Don't Say That Word!

Is it just me, or are there certain words that you just don’t like to hear or say?  My family and friends think I’m nuts but I’m sorry, here’s my list of words I’d rather avoid:

Let’s start with the word nipple.  I didn’t even like typing the word!  I never say it: I’ll say something like, “I saw a guy at the beach and he had nice n-words.”  Yes my friends look at me strangely but they should be used to it by now.  Trust me: I never purposely try to bring it up in conversation!  The weird thing is, everyone has them, babies sometimes use them to get nourishment, but I want no parts of hearing it.  Well, except maybe for “pillow talk” and that’s a whole other subject!

The next word is magma.  Magma is what lava is called before it exits a volcano.  There’s just something about the way it feels in your mouth when you say it: magma, like you have a mouthful of mud or something. Yuck!

Moist is another word that works during “pillow talk”, but not in regular conversation.  It just sounds seamy and smarmy, regardless of what you’re talking about.  Plus it makes your lips assume a strange shape when you say it.

Her Majesty has her list of words she doesn’t like either; and at the top is the word suck.  She isn’t in situation where she engages in “pillow talk” so she doesn’t even have that as a saving grace.  She’s never been able to tell me why she hates the word: I’m just careful not to say it around her!  She also doesn’t like any type of foul language.  Not that she hears any from me, of course…

Brie doesn’t seem to have any words that bother her, but the cats do.  That word is “no”, because that means they can’t get in my lap, or get in the bathtub, or knock all of the Monopoly pieces on the floor when we’re trying to play a game.  They also object to certain tones of voice.  They love when we talk to them like they’re babies: “Oh loony-loony-loony, mom’s tootie-tootie-tootie!”  That has to be said in a high croon that if you used it in public, people would point and laugh.  But think about it: if I said that in a baritone, wouldn’t that be kind of scary?  They don’t like when you use a low tone or even your normal voice.

You know what I think?  They’re secretly laughing at me when I talk like someone demented!  I bet when I go to work, they prance around the house imitating me: “Luna, who am I?  Loony-loony-loony mom!”  Then they fall out and kick their little furry feet in the air while they laugh!  My cats are certainly rude enough to do that, and then greet me like they love me when I come home.  That settles it: I’m getting a kitty-cam!

The Official Greeter Greets...

As many of you know, my father passed away in 2004. Knowing the type of man he was, I'm sure that one of his roles in Heaven is to be the Official Greeter, to show newcomers around and familiarize them with their new "home". Recently, he got to greet someone special to me: my friend Rosa.

It isn't my place to go into the details of her passing: I'll sum it up by saying complications from a heart attack.  Sadly, she was taken off of life support on Christmas Day.  It was a very difficult decision, but ultimately the right one considering her circumstance.

Rosa and I became friends approximately 14 years ago working for the same company. We were both single mothers raising two children, had...interesting families that drove us nuts, and bonded over lots of things that women bond over.  We socialized outside of work too: in later years not as often as we would have liked but this didn't interfere with our friendship.

Rosa was one of those women who was tough as nails on the outside, but that only disguised the heart of gold she had on the inside.  She had to be strong for her family, and had to not take any crap from various aspects of her job. But at the end of the day, I don't know anyone who didn't respect Rosa and admire who she was.

Every year my company holds a very nice holiday party for the employees and most years Rosa and I would attend. We'd sit together with her boyfriend Aaron and whomever I'd manage to scare up: my daughter, my best friend David, or whomever, haha. And we always had the best time of any table in the room. This was true because each year we would have people beg us to let them sit with us; and we'd have to carefully orchestrate who got that privilege and who was relegated to table 2, or 3!  Yes, Rosa was a lot of fun and I loved being at these gatherings with her. Let the good times roll!

Last year though, we went to the holiday party and had a terrible time. We didn't like what we wore, we didn't like the venue, we didn't like the food or the deejay. We're just not sure what the problem was but figured part of it was our friend Annette and her husband weren't able to attend.

But this year guess what: Annette and her husband did come, as did Brie! It was the same venue but there was something different in the air: the food was great, the deejay was awesome and they even got me up on the dance floor a few times!  Afterwards we were all talking before we went our separate ways and decided it had been the best holiday party we'd attended in years!  Everybody hugged everybody and we left, This was on December 7th.

I talked to Rosa on Thursday at work, December 19th. Just the usual casual conversation and work talk; and she was excited to have her daughter and new grandbaby home. We were both looking forward to time off over the holidays and to having a Merry Christmas...

But we didn't get the Merry Christmas we were hoping for. Instead, we have a void where Rosa once was. I don't hurt because God wanted her with him. I just hurt for those she left behind, who are devastated and not quite ready to accept that Rosa needed to be with God.  Especially her boyfriend Aaron, who loved her like each one of us dream of being loved.

So Dad: I'm glad that you got to greet Rosa when she arrived. I'm glad that you were with her when she got to see her father again, who died just this summer, and that you got to witness her seeing Jesus face to face.

So when I read the poem "The Mansion In Heaven" at Rosa's funeral on Wednesday, I'll know that one day I will see Rosa in her rightful place in Heaven. I'll know that she's in the arms of the Heavenly Father, who is building mansions for us all.

Aaron and Rosa: I love you both.

Christmas Memories - The Best Present

I have to apologize for being so remiss. I had a lot of posts I wanted to do for Christmas, but due to my hand surgery, typing has been really rough and painful the past few weeks. However, I did want to share with you one of my favorite Christmas stories. I thought of this when a couple of weeks ago Bob and Sheri, on their morning radio show, asked listeners to call in and chat about the best Christmas present they ever gave. This made me think of the best present I ever received:

When I was little my parents, 2 older brothers and I used to travel "down home" to North Carolina a few times a year; but the most special time was always for Christmas vacation.  It was good to see the aunts, uncles, cousins but especially my grandparents.

My grandparents weren't rich: granddaddy was a tobacco farmer, grandma was a seamstress and they lived on a little farm in Chowan County. But when it came to love: that's where their richness came from.

So: I'm a little girl and of course every kid looked forward to their presents on Christmas.  My parents would smuggle our gifts down there so "Santa" would arrive. But my grandparents didn't have the money to buy Santa gifts. However, my grandma always made the grandkids an outfit each for a gift, and we were young enough to enjoy it and wear it.

But that wasn't the best gift.  Even the "Santa" gifts weren't the best gifts. Nope: the BEST gift we'd receive from grandma was always the same every year. And if anyone was forgotten or she miscounted: the neglected one would be heartbroken until they received one.

What was this magical, mystical, fought-over gift that we coveted each year? Believe it or not, it was a little brown paper bag. Inside would be...an apple, an orange, some pecans, almonds,brazils and walnuts in the shell and some hard filled Christmas candy: like Brach's used to make. Granted, sometimes the candy would be sticky and stick to the fruit but we didn't care! It came from grandma's heart. We would eat that fruit and in my case have someone shell the nuts and I'd be soo happy! We looked forward to that little paper bag all year.

Even now I really love those little brown lunch bags that parents used to pack their kids' school lunches in. I smile when I see a pack of them on the bottom shelf of the supermarket. I love Brazil nuts, almonds and walnuts, And I love my grandparents.

They've been gone for many years now, but each Christmas I always take a moment and remember them and that little bag of love.

May your days be merry and bright...

I Am Not A Poet

This isn't the post I planned to write tonight. But since I had hand surgery and can't really type, I'm cheating. So here's another poem (copy and paste is great)!

Don’t tell me your tale of woe about that ‘ho that let you go.

That’s more than I need to know but I won’t say, “I told you so.”

There is not a sadder sight than one who cannot see the light.

Trust me, hold me nice and tight.  Kiss me: let our souls take flight.

 

From your soul there comes a sound, saying that it won’t be bound.

No strings ‘round your heart are wound.  With me, freedom can be found.

Banishing your endless night will take my strength and all my might.

You shouldn’t even try to fight; I’ll make everything all right.

 

Our souls have known each other well.  We’ve been through our own brand of hell.

It was almost a death knell but we survived, as you can tell.

Your power I don’t want to take.  A puppet of you I won’t make.

My feelings for you are not fake.  In you, emotions I’ll awake.

 

The thought of this makes your heart quake.  To love again makes your knees shake.

Please be brave for your own sake: deep emotions are at stake.

On your terms I will agree to have you unconditionally.

What you have to do is see that it’s not I or you: but we.

 

In our hearts our love does shine.  A new relationship’s designed.

Here’s my hand: put yours in mine.  Finally, our course is fine.

Don’t tell me who you used to be.  Just show me what I need to see.

Please don’t be afraid of me: for my love shall set you free.

 
~*~

 

Marie's Birthday

My mother's birthday was Friday, November 16th. I was pretty tired and just wanted to go home after work, but knew I needed to pick up a card for her. Brie was on a time constraint, so after we picked out the cards I dropped her off at our house, got the gifts, and went to Marie's house to make the delivery.  I was missing one of her gifts but figured she wouldn't know anyway because she didn't know what or how much I had gotten for her.

I got to her house and her brother was visiting. I just love Uncle Tom because he's so funny and entertaining! Anyhoo, I went in bearing gifts: candy, her favorite word-search books, her cards. She was so happy! I stayed to visit for a few minutes, and then went home feeling good.  That was day 1.

On Saturday, I went over to her house to pick up Robin for our hair appointment. I went in for a minute to give Marie her big gift: a brand new watch with a gold band and diamonds around the face. "Oh daughter, this is too much." "No it isn't, I know how much you love gold and figured this way you wouldn't keep taking my watches."  "Well I must say: I love this watch and this is the best birthday I've ever had." Then her eyes got big. "You don't suppose this is my last one, do you?" I had to laugh. "No Marie, it isn't your last one. Enjoy your day and I'll see you later." That was day 2.

Today, she didn't go to church because she was a bit under the weather. Plus it was the annual Holiday Parade. So after church I had to stop at Hannaford, go home to change and then try to beat it back to her house (right along the parade route!) before they closed the streets.  I was sitting in the chair next to her and she happened to glance at my wrist. "Oh, what's that you're wearing?" "Um, it's my watch." "Oh it's so pretty. Can I try it on?" "Okay Marie." I took it off (it was a simple bangle) and handed it to her. "Oh daughter, that's so fancy. I don't know if I can operate it." Sighing, I just slipped in on her wrist. "I just love this! I really like the one you gave me yesterday, but I might want this one instead."  Sighing, I said, "But you love gold. Don't you like the one I gave you yesterday?" "Yes, but I haven't tried it on yet."

So she took hers out of the box and had me buckle it on her wrist. "Oh I really do like this one. Maybe I'll just keep it. Look at the diamonds! I'll just have to practice putting it on.  You can keep your silver one. Thank you daughter." "You're welcome Marie."

That was today, day 3, and I managed to keep my OWN new watch. Happy Birthday Marie: you still drive me crazy, but I'm glad you're here to do so!

Things That Go "Bump" In The Morning

I used to consider myself a relatively fearless person.  I liked scary movies, or at least what passed for scary when I was a kid. Looking back at those movies now makes me laugh at how really bad and obvious the special effects were.

But for the past few years, I just haven’t had the nerves of steel of my youth. I remember one morning I was alone and lazily flipping through the channels looking for something to watch. I landed on a channel that showed a pleasant-looking lady talking to a clergyman. Ah, I thought, this seems like it could be a nice movie. After a couple of minutes the scene shifted, and it was Linda Blair’s crazy face from the exorcist!  Ahhhhh!!!! I screamed and couldn’t get away from the channel fast enough! I had to sleep with the lights on that night!

Sometimes I think there’s safety in numbers, and if I watch a scary movie with someone else, I’ll be safe. Now that might work in theory, but not necessarily in practice.  I had wanted to see the movie “Scary Movie” but missed it in the theatre. It was on TV one night and I really wanted to watch it.  However, Brie was sleeping on the couch. As long as she was in the room it counted, right? So I turned it on and settled in my recliner to watch it with my cat Sam on my lap for added reassurance. I prided myself on how well I was doing. Then suddenly Sam jumped on the back of the chair and alertly looked toward the kitchen, which was ensconced in darkness. “What is it Sam?” With his ears pricked forward, Sam peered around the doorway and then jumped down and went into the kitchen. Nervously I went back to watching the movie, because at least I still had Brie. I saw the killer in the movie lurking around the corner with his knife, waiting for his next victim. As the killer raised his knife as the hapless victim was rounding the corner, all of a sudden something landed with a thud on the top of my chair. Screaming, the remote went flying and I jumped out of the chair before the killer could get me…um, it was just Sam back from the kitchen…But my nerves were shot and my poor daughter was awakened from her sleep. Needless to say, I turned the TV off.

There was another movie I wanted to watch on TV: Devil’s Advocate with Keanu Reeves, who I loved at that time. But again: any movie with the word devil in it is bound to be scary. However: I liked the cast and figured if I watched it during broad daylight with the curtains open and sunshine streaming in the windows, I’d be safe. I asked Brie to watch it with me but she said she wanted to nap. So again: she was on the couch asleep while I was in my recliner watching this movie.  I was doing okay but whenever I thought a scary part was coming up, I’d reach over and wake her up. This got old real quick for her, so after the 5^th dirty look, I decided to be a big girl and just watch it. That worked until the dressing room scene where it looked like demons were moving under the skin of one of the women. That was it: the TV went off and I was done!

It isn’t just movies, and it isn’t just me. Sometimes it’s real life occurrences that turn out to be scary, when they shouldn’t be.  When we were thankfully moving from 441 to our lovely new abode, we were packing and trying to clean up so we could leave as quickly as possible. Kitty was in her room and Brie was in the living room “helping me”.  I was sweeping the floor and Brie was by the wall when suddenly something black and wiggly skittered across the floor. Before I could say, “What’s that?” Brie had pushed me through the front screen door to get outside, effectively ensuring that I fell as she practically climbed over me to reach safety.  Realizing that we had to go back inside, at least to save Kitty, I cautiously approached the screen door to peek through to see what monstrous critter had chased us out. It turned out to be one of Kitty’s fuzzy Slideyz toys that had moved from the breeze elicited by the broom! We laughed and laughed as I rubbed my bruised ribs and cracked elbow.

I’m going to close with something that happened just a couple of weeks ago. I listen to the religious station at night, and they were doing a series on the Book of Revelation, or end-time prophecies. I’ve read and known about this all of my life, but I still like to listen because sometimes you hear something you might have missed. So that night they were talking about the anti-christ and the beast. The next morning when I was waking up for work it was another dark, dreary early morning. Brie came into my room to chat for a minute and sat on the bed by Pumpkin. Suddenly, the door to my closet creaked and slowly opened a little. All conversation stopped. “What’s that?” Brie asked. “Um, maybe a breeze from my window.”  But my window was only opened a crack and there was no wind. The closet door creaked a little more, which is strange because my door doesn’t creak!  “Uh, where are the cats?” I asked.  “They were both lying on the bathroom floor when I was in there,” Brie whispered, moving closer to me. I looked at Pumpkin, our guard Chihuahua. “Pumpkin, go see what it is,” I said, putting her on the floor. Pumpkin happily wagged her tail and scampered toward the closet door, and then stopped: her tail stiff as she just stared at the door.  By this time Brie was ducking behind me. “Mom, do something!” “What am I supposed to do??” Then the door creaked again and Pumpkin raced back to me. I screamed when I saw something big and black gliding across the floor and lifted my feet to the bed. Brie screamed too and then I realized…it was Victoria, our big Maine Coon cat!  She had somehow slid in the door unseen when Brie came into the room. We laughed in shaky relief as I picked Pumpkin back up.  “You were going to sacrifice the dog??” Brie said. “Actually,” I replied, “I was going to sacrifice you to give me time to get out!”  Thank goodness that bump wasn’t a precursor to the end!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! J

School's In!

Today was the first day of school where I live, and this got me thinking about some things I remember very vividly from when I was going to school.

When I was in elementary school, there was this boy in my class named Philip. We were best friends until the day he turned his eyelids inside out, right in the lunch line. Horrified, that put an end to our friendship! To this day, I still think that turning your eyelids inside out is disgusting. So naturally Kitty can do it!  Thankfully she only does that to scare her sister J  I also remember the hot school lunches, which in reality weren’t so hot.  I think my dislike of pizza comes from what they classified as pizza in elementary school: a hard ½ English muffin with a little square of American Cheese and a dollop of ketchup. Yum! Not!!  Or their odd little hamburger, which I know was comprised of neither ham nor burger…yet surprisingly we still ate it.  Hey: little kids aren’t known for their discriminating palates!

When I entered Junior High (“middle school” hadn’t been invented yet!) I knew it was going to be awesome, because there were 4 different elementary schools in our area, and 7^th grade was where they all came together. We got to meet kids from the other different schools, you could reinvent yourself and you finally got to go to different classes throughout the day. Sure it was a little hairy at first with making sure your locker would open, memorizing your friends’ locker combinations and timing yourself so you’d have time to get from locker to classroom. But all in all it was definitely to my liking. Especially seeing all the cute boys from the other schools J As for the hot lunch: better than elementary, but still had flaws. Like the day a girl found a bug in her spinach because the vegetables came in big industrial-sized cans.   That’s why I didn’t eat the vegetables!  And also why sometimes my friends and I would sneak out and walk to Carroll’s, the precursor to McDonald’s, for lunch.

Junior High also introduced me to the school dances. I don’t like to brag, but I’ve been a great dancer ever since I was a toddler. I had been hearing about the dances from my older brothers. And now I was going to be able to take part in them! Or so I thought…my parents had no intention of letting their sheltered daughter go to any school dances where she might be in contact with boys in a darkened auditorium from 7 to 9 pm.  Good thing I perfected the art of making up a different story to tell them, so I could occasionally sneak to the dances. Sorry Marie!  I still remember one particular Friday night dance, where the guy I liked slow-danced to “Superstar” by the Carpenters with another girl. I was heartbroken! To this day, that song still gives me a pang of bitter-sweetness when I hear it on the radio. 

On the first day of my freshman year, I remember how excited I was because for the first time I got to pick out whatever I wanted to wear. In 8^th grade, on the first day I remember Marie made me wear this sleeveless dress that had a brown plaid faux scarf around the neck, the dress’s torso was solid brown, and the skirt was pleated brown plaid that matched the scarf. This was what my friends were used to seeing me wear. But the first day of 9^th grade: I was wearing the groovy outfit I picked out myself. It was a 2-piece set: the top had a purple paisley collar, the short sleeves were the same print, the rest of the ribbed top was black, and the skirt was the same purple, white and black polyester print. Whoo hoo! You couldn’t tell me anything in this short-skirted outfit, complete with white knee socks and black shoes. My friends were so amazed when they saw my transformation, and I was very pleased by their reactions. And it’s a good thing I picked out my own outfit because we got some new students who transferred from the Catholic school. St. Michael’s only went up to 8^th grade, so as freshmen some of the kids came to Junior High instead of going across the bridge to St. Mary’s. And St. Mary’s loss was our gain because those boys were c-u-t-e! I loved my freshman year!

The best part about high school? The Glen Lake Casino! I was 16 when I was a senior, I didn’t have a fake ID, but I never got proofed and my friends and I were there pretty much every weekend. Hey Marie: that’s what you get for not letting me go to junior high dances; and the club was sooo much better (plus the guys were older and cuter).

Oh, how I miss those days sometimes! But at least I’ve got plenty of good memories.  And parents: if you don’t want your kids to attend school dances, just volunteer to be a chaperone. That’s guaranteed to take all the fun out of it for them! And if you don't believe me: ask Brie! I chaperoned all of her dances and Teen Towns to make sure any fun was kept to a minimum!