The husband is quite global, unlike me. He can fit in on either coast or overseas. I would be the one with my tongue clamped between my teeth. He has a man bag which I love to refer to as his purse. I like to announce very loudly, "Don't forget your purse!"
We're experiencing a rash of break-ins at our club. My friend and several others had this happen on the 4th of July. Today was our turn. Three people had their windows shattered and possessions taken. Big Daddy is one of them and he is not amused.
Our home phone is still out due to the latest storms but I try to keep my cell phone with me. I forgot to take it with me while I showered. Big Daddy is not amused.
Date night turned into phone calls -- we've cancelled things and notified our banker. We've talked to the insurance company. His passport was in there so now we need to tend to that. We know they have our address so we will be diligent about setting the alarm.
Lots of the oldies paperwork was there too. You go thief! Have a good time with that.
We are missing nothing that can't be found, copied or recreated. Yes, it's a hassle. But, I'm a little giddy that the man bag went away.
Showing posts with label Big Daddy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Daddy. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Best or Worst Hostess
My niece is here. She is visiting before she starts a new job on Monday. I am thrilled to have her but I'm constantly fearful that she is bored.
Depending on how you define it, I could be the poster child for best or worst hostess. On the good side, my home is open. I will show you where everything is and you could not offend me in the slightest by helping yourself to anything. On the bad side, I will show you where everything is and I sort of expect you to help yourself. (Of course, I will run around behind you asking, "Do you need anything?"
We have fun plans for tomorrow and Saturday. Today, she got to experience the extra fun stuff of running errands, exchanging my cell phone (which she programmed,) and putting gas in the car. Yippee! Well, we did go out to lunch.
She is smart and aware. I like that description because so many of us bumper car our way through experiences. In the 24-hours that she has been here, she has picked up on many things about this city and our culture that I never bother to notice.
The dog greeted her by jumping on her and then throwing up on the carpet. I suspect she was getting an early start on Digestive Disease Week.
Big Daddy took us to dinner last night and a delightful tour of homes in our area. Then we did some singing around the piano. The baby will be over tonight so she'll have someone remotely close to her own age to converse with. Cousin time is always good.
Depending on how you define it, I could be the poster child for best or worst hostess. On the good side, my home is open. I will show you where everything is and you could not offend me in the slightest by helping yourself to anything. On the bad side, I will show you where everything is and I sort of expect you to help yourself. (Of course, I will run around behind you asking, "Do you need anything?"
We have fun plans for tomorrow and Saturday. Today, she got to experience the extra fun stuff of running errands, exchanging my cell phone (which she programmed,) and putting gas in the car. Yippee! Well, we did go out to lunch.
She is smart and aware. I like that description because so many of us bumper car our way through experiences. In the 24-hours that she has been here, she has picked up on many things about this city and our culture that I never bother to notice.
The dog greeted her by jumping on her and then throwing up on the carpet. I suspect she was getting an early start on Digestive Disease Week.
Big Daddy took us to dinner last night and a delightful tour of homes in our area. Then we did some singing around the piano. The baby will be over tonight so she'll have someone remotely close to her own age to converse with. Cousin time is always good.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Bursting!
The daughter is one of the smartest women I know. She has a spine of steel and a work ethic I aspire to. (I also aspire to have her looks but I think those days are bye bye.)
Here's what I admire most: She is not afraid of a challenge.
In high school, she was quite the social director. She began the same path in college until Big Daddy stepped in with some ultimatums.
I am not a big fan of standardized tests. But, it is funny how some people excel at them and others freeze. The baby seems to ace every standardized test. The daughter struggles and works extra hard. Yet, she pursues her goals and marches on.
We were so proud when she graduated from law school. We were so proud when she passed the Indiana Bar Exam (on the first try.) Then, she moved to Texas. Another Bar Exam loomed. This one covers things like oil and immigration laws -- things she didn't have to study in law school in Indiana.
We share some qualities and one of them is preparing people for the worst. She repeatedly told us that she probably did not pass.
Look out Texas! There's a new licensed attorney in town and she will kick butt.
When I heard the news, I burst into tears -- although I never doubted her for a minute.
Here's what I admire most: She is not afraid of a challenge.
In high school, she was quite the social director. She began the same path in college until Big Daddy stepped in with some ultimatums.
I am not a big fan of standardized tests. But, it is funny how some people excel at them and others freeze. The baby seems to ace every standardized test. The daughter struggles and works extra hard. Yet, she pursues her goals and marches on.
We were so proud when she graduated from law school. We were so proud when she passed the Indiana Bar Exam (on the first try.) Then, she moved to Texas. Another Bar Exam loomed. This one covers things like oil and immigration laws -- things she didn't have to study in law school in Indiana.
We share some qualities and one of them is preparing people for the worst. She repeatedly told us that she probably did not pass.
Look out Texas! There's a new licensed attorney in town and she will kick butt.
When I heard the news, I burst into tears -- although I never doubted her for a minute.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
Are you singing yet?
I'm a voyeur. A few years ago, a friend of mine decided to change her life. In her terms, it meant no more bullsh** and I'm not going to do anything I don't want to do. I respected it but I also kind of brushed it off as a mid-life thing. As an outsider looking in, I remember thinking the people who give her the most problems and the most pleasure are the people she values most. She married one of them. She gave birth to a couple of them. One of them gave birth to her. You cannot control these relationships. I hate this expression but, they are what they are.
When the oldies moved in with us, the elephant in the room was the alpha male position. Hangdog was used to being the head of the household. So was Big Daddy. The Belle was used to doing things her way. So was I. We worked our way through the maze and usually found compromise.
As you know, I tend to tell my parents everything. I'm not sure this is normal. We disagree on many things but Aretha would be proud, we do it with respect. (Or we just hang up.)
I'm taking a lesson from my friend. You (my friends, my parents, my relatives, the children, the husband) can tell me anything and I will listen. I will try to learn and correct my faults. There's one caveat: Please speak to me with respect. For who I am and who I want to be. For what I've given you and what you've given me. Respect our history. Respect my phase in life and expect the same in return. Actually, demand it.
Mothers get a free pass on some of these things. Every once in a while, I try to dodge a question. There's a reason Wild Bill called her, "The Prosecutor." She will get it out of me. It takes about 20 seconds.
Aretha would be proud. All it takes is a little prodding...
"Sock it to me, sock it to me..."
I'm a voyeur. A few years ago, a friend of mine decided to change her life. In her terms, it meant no more bullsh** and I'm not going to do anything I don't want to do. I respected it but I also kind of brushed it off as a mid-life thing. As an outsider looking in, I remember thinking the people who give her the most problems and the most pleasure are the people she values most. She married one of them. She gave birth to a couple of them. One of them gave birth to her. You cannot control these relationships. I hate this expression but, they are what they are.
When the oldies moved in with us, the elephant in the room was the alpha male position. Hangdog was used to being the head of the household. So was Big Daddy. The Belle was used to doing things her way. So was I. We worked our way through the maze and usually found compromise.
As you know, I tend to tell my parents everything. I'm not sure this is normal. We disagree on many things but Aretha would be proud, we do it with respect. (Or we just hang up.)
I'm taking a lesson from my friend. You (my friends, my parents, my relatives, the children, the husband) can tell me anything and I will listen. I will try to learn and correct my faults. There's one caveat: Please speak to me with respect. For who I am and who I want to be. For what I've given you and what you've given me. Respect our history. Respect my phase in life and expect the same in return. Actually, demand it.
Mothers get a free pass on some of these things. Every once in a while, I try to dodge a question. There's a reason Wild Bill called her, "The Prosecutor." She will get it out of me. It takes about 20 seconds.
Aretha would be proud. All it takes is a little prodding...
"Just a little bit... Just a little bit."
Saturday, March 22, 2008
The Ties that Bind
I've been with Big Daddy a long time. We're bonded in good and bad ways. Like most couples, we've balanced the line between love and hate. The best gift of hanging in there is you get the knowledge and realization that you never actually hated the other person -- just some words, choices or actions. I'm a little embarrassed that it took me so long to figure this out.
(Tomorrow, I will lose all reason and write a blog post about how crummy husbands can be. Let me have this moment.)
Like most of us, a ring was slipped on my finger when I wed. Mine is simple and beautiful. Inside, the inscription says, "Forever." The only time I take it off is for routine cleanings or to have the settings checked. I'm tied. I'm blissfully tethered.
Years ago, I wanted a toe ring. We were on vacation in the Caribbean and the husband was patient enough to walk from store to store in search of my perfect ring. I refused to get one that wasn't a perfect circle; I didn't want the pinch-it-together kind. We didn't find one.
Several weeks later, I received a Valentine's Day gift of a simple gold ring that could be sized to my toe. My mother tells me that no one wears a toe ring any more but I do and it has special meaning to me.
For Christmas, I received a necklace with interlocking circles and the story of how it represented us.
Don't get jealous. He can be mean and obnoxious. We've had problems and I'm sure there are more to come. I am annoying. He can be a **##!! But he's my **##!!
Today we were flying back from Hangdog's funeral and the family festivities. The husband was listening to his iPod and I was making some notes. Then he took one ear plug out of his ear and put it in mine. The cord connected both of us and we were listening to the same song.
Tied and tethered and holding hands.
(Tomorrow, I will lose all reason and write a blog post about how crummy husbands can be. Let me have this moment.)
Like most of us, a ring was slipped on my finger when I wed. Mine is simple and beautiful. Inside, the inscription says, "Forever." The only time I take it off is for routine cleanings or to have the settings checked. I'm tied. I'm blissfully tethered.
Years ago, I wanted a toe ring. We were on vacation in the Caribbean and the husband was patient enough to walk from store to store in search of my perfect ring. I refused to get one that wasn't a perfect circle; I didn't want the pinch-it-together kind. We didn't find one.
Several weeks later, I received a Valentine's Day gift of a simple gold ring that could be sized to my toe. My mother tells me that no one wears a toe ring any more but I do and it has special meaning to me.
For Christmas, I received a necklace with interlocking circles and the story of how it represented us.
Don't get jealous. He can be mean and obnoxious. We've had problems and I'm sure there are more to come. I am annoying. He can be a **##!! But he's my **##!!
Today we were flying back from Hangdog's funeral and the family festivities. The husband was listening to his iPod and I was making some notes. Then he took one ear plug out of his ear and put it in mine. The cord connected both of us and we were listening to the same song.
Tied and tethered and holding hands.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
A Trained Killer
Until the Belle died, I lived with three military people. The military regimen is about as foreign to me as getting a tattoo or jumping out of an airplane.
Military stories make me weepy. I can hardly watch or read them.
My cousin, John, was in town a few years ago. The husband, the parents and I all went out to dinner. (This was before we had possession of the oldies.)
During our conversation, the husband talked about his military experience and his training as an Army Ranger. (It's like the equivalent of a Navy Seal.) John is a keen communicator so he kept the questions and stories flowing. Later, my parents commented that they knew about his military history but had not heard the embellishments of his Ranger days.
So I asked Big Daddy, "Why didn't you tell my parents about being a Ranger?"
He said, "I wasn't sure how to word it. I'm a trained killer and I plan to marry your daughter."
For the record, he never killed anyone. Even though he could snap me like a twig, I think he's occasionally afraid of me. The mind can be mightier than brawn. And my mind is twisted like a twig.
Military stories make me weepy. I can hardly watch or read them.
My cousin, John, was in town a few years ago. The husband, the parents and I all went out to dinner. (This was before we had possession of the oldies.)
During our conversation, the husband talked about his military experience and his training as an Army Ranger. (It's like the equivalent of a Navy Seal.) John is a keen communicator so he kept the questions and stories flowing. Later, my parents commented that they knew about his military history but had not heard the embellishments of his Ranger days.
So I asked Big Daddy, "Why didn't you tell my parents about being a Ranger?"
He said, "I wasn't sure how to word it. I'm a trained killer and I plan to marry your daughter."
For the record, he never killed anyone. Even though he could snap me like a twig, I think he's occasionally afraid of me. The mind can be mightier than brawn. And my mind is twisted like a twig.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Visiting
Big Daddy and I had a date tonight. We visited Hangdog in the Home. He is still adjusting but we came loaded with candy and stuff for his little dorm frig. I mentioned that today is my father's birthday so I suggested he visit his father and I would go visit mine. To his credit, he said, "Let's do both."
After a visit with hangdog, the husband is in a funny mood. This is a good match with my parents.
We had brownies and coffee. We shared stories, some laughs and some gossip. But my parents are way too healthy and sane for Big Daddy. On the way home he asked me, "Isn't there a hospital, a hospice or an orphanage we need to stop by?"
After a visit with hangdog, the husband is in a funny mood. This is a good match with my parents.
We had brownies and coffee. We shared stories, some laughs and some gossip. But my parents are way too healthy and sane for Big Daddy. On the way home he asked me, "Isn't there a hospital, a hospice or an orphanage we need to stop by?"
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Ring Tones
When I call my girlfriend, her cell phone ring is REO Speedwagon's "Time For Me to Fly." (We were listening to it on 8 track in high school.) That was one of our favorite groups and one of our favorite songs. Her phone could be buried in the bottom of her handbag but she knows instantly that it's me. I'm impressed and jealous. She programmed my phone so when Big Daddy calls, instead of his phone number, it says, "Husband."
The baby has different ring tones for different people. I have no idea what mine is but we've joked that maybe it should be that old song, "The Bitch is Back." Yet, he still answers.
Big Daddy and the daughter text each other. Learning text messaging is next on my technology agenda but I'm not sure I have the dexterity. How did I get so far behind?
The baby has different ring tones for different people. I have no idea what mine is but we've joked that maybe it should be that old song, "The Bitch is Back." Yet, he still answers.
Big Daddy and the daughter text each other. Learning text messaging is next on my technology agenda but I'm not sure I have the dexterity. How did I get so far behind?
Time Flies
Last night I was supposed to meet a few of the golf widows. Their husbands are on the same trip as Big Daddy. I was iffy about it because the weather was crummy and I get nervous driving on sleet and snow. Idiot Sheri came into play and said, "Go." So, I went and I'm glad I did.
While I was trying to find these friends, I ran into at least five people that I know. (Yes, one of them was probably your ex.) I ran into one of my wives-in-law. Why are all these people out on such a crazy weather night?
One person who I had not seen in years gave me a gigantic hug and then had to take a call from his daughter. I know his ex-wife. I remember when they called with the news that they were expecting twins. I have vivid memories of her baby shower and visiting when the babies were newborns. Their babies are now 12-years old. Time flies.
Do you ever hear a song on the radio and then the DJ will tell you the name of the group and the year? If I'm singing along, chances are it's an oldie. But when they announce the year, I'm usually taken aback. Time flies.
It's been a month since the Belle died. Time flies whether you're having fun or not.
While I was trying to find these friends, I ran into at least five people that I know. (Yes, one of them was probably your ex.) I ran into one of my wives-in-law. Why are all these people out on such a crazy weather night?
One person who I had not seen in years gave me a gigantic hug and then had to take a call from his daughter. I know his ex-wife. I remember when they called with the news that they were expecting twins. I have vivid memories of her baby shower and visiting when the babies were newborns. Their babies are now 12-years old. Time flies.
Do you ever hear a song on the radio and then the DJ will tell you the name of the group and the year? If I'm singing along, chances are it's an oldie. But when they announce the year, I'm usually taken aback. Time flies.
It's been a month since the Belle died. Time flies whether you're having fun or not.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Exes
If you live in my city and I have known you for any length of time, chances are that I run into your ex.
It doesn't have to be an ex-spouse. Many times it's someone you dated. And trust me, that person wants to ask about you.
Big Daddy's exes are my wives-in-law so running into each other is not a problem. We plan it. We look forward to it.
People slip into a comfortable vocabulary, i.e. "my ex-husband or my ex-boyfriend." Does that negate the rest of the relations? Are they ex-stepchildren? Do brothers and sisters-in-laws become exes? It can get quirky. I need the relationship with my first in-laws. Big Daddy is still very close to his brother-in-law from his first marriage. The legal status may change but the love does not.
Several years ago, we went to hear my (ex)brother-in-law perform. We do this several times a year. I was standing in line for the restroom and a lady asked me how I knew the family. I answered, "I am family." It completely freaked her out. Some people live a much more sheltered life than I do.
It doesn't have to be an ex-spouse. Many times it's someone you dated. And trust me, that person wants to ask about you.
Big Daddy's exes are my wives-in-law so running into each other is not a problem. We plan it. We look forward to it.
People slip into a comfortable vocabulary, i.e. "my ex-husband or my ex-boyfriend." Does that negate the rest of the relations? Are they ex-stepchildren? Do brothers and sisters-in-laws become exes? It can get quirky. I need the relationship with my first in-laws. Big Daddy is still very close to his brother-in-law from his first marriage. The legal status may change but the love does not.
Several years ago, we went to hear my (ex)brother-in-law perform. We do this several times a year. I was standing in line for the restroom and a lady asked me how I knew the family. I answered, "I am family." It completely freaked her out. Some people live a much more sheltered life than I do.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Fighting over the Dog Pillow
Houseboy and his family took great care of my dog while we attended to family matters. He and his wife brought Gabby back today and the first thing she did was head for my office and her pillow. I suspect their dog gave her a little run for her money.
I am still weepy and emotional. I am also one of those weird people who likes dog smells. Puppy breath? Bring it on. I wanted to curl on the dog pillow and wallow in my sorrow.
So, I decided I would just put my head down for a second and reflect on the last few days. Like me, the dog is an only child (in this household) and she doesn't do the sharing thing well.
She pawed me and I kept saying, "Move over Fungus!" Then we fell asleep for 10 minutes or so.
I am used to sprawling with Big Daddy and griping about pillows and covers. I have reached a new arena. Gabby and I are wrestling for the dog pillow.
I am still weepy and emotional. I am also one of those weird people who likes dog smells. Puppy breath? Bring it on. I wanted to curl on the dog pillow and wallow in my sorrow.
So, I decided I would just put my head down for a second and reflect on the last few days. Like me, the dog is an only child (in this household) and she doesn't do the sharing thing well.
She pawed me and I kept saying, "Move over Fungus!" Then we fell asleep for 10 minutes or so.
I am used to sprawling with Big Daddy and griping about pillows and covers. I have reached a new arena. Gabby and I are wrestling for the dog pillow.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Writing an Obit
In Journalism school, one of your first assignments is learning to write an obituary. It's good writing experience, plus you learn to do a little research. Every journalist (with credible training) has written numerous obits.
The husband (the boss of me) is handing out assignments. Call this person! Figure this out! Then he said, "Would you please start a draft of her obituary?"
I am a writer by trade but in this moment, I am the daughter-in-law. I'll do it for Big Daddy but I am struggling. I do not want to write about her military experience, her nursing career, her stellar ability to maneuver wifedom and motherhood. Here's what I want to write:
So, I must get back to the regular obit. We probably won't include much of the above. But, I've said it.
The husband (the boss of me) is handing out assignments. Call this person! Figure this out! Then he said, "Would you please start a draft of her obituary?"
I am a writer by trade but in this moment, I am the daughter-in-law. I'll do it for Big Daddy but I am struggling. I do not want to write about her military experience, her nursing career, her stellar ability to maneuver wifedom and motherhood. Here's what I want to write:
Sheis the ultimate southern belle.She did not give birth to me but I am losing a mom.
Trying to out cranky each other made us laugh and cry.
She's a clothes horse and I will miss watching her shop or try on clothes.
There is no wife on earth who has been a more fierce protector of her husband.
She's been the "leap the fence" kind of Mom and Grandma.
Her huge family always knows that the sister is there for them any time.
She is cute, kicky and sassy.
So, I must get back to the regular obit. We probably won't include much of the above. But, I've said it.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Favorite Parent
I don't have a favorite parent. Sorry to be gushy but I think they're both pretty wonderful. As the user that I have become, I rely on both of them for different things.
The husband is kind to both parents but his loyalty is to his mother. His brother is the constant defender of the father. It's interesting to eavesdrop on those conversations. They both defend their views like they're in a court of law. (He has two other brothers but ... when you can't say something nice, say nothing at all.)
We adopted this crazy, maniacal dog a little over a year ago. I feed her, walk her, provide the treats, and see to her every need. She treats me like a litter mate. Big Daddy is her favorite parent.
The husband is kind to both parents but his loyalty is to his mother. His brother is the constant defender of the father. It's interesting to eavesdrop on those conversations. They both defend their views like they're in a court of law. (He has two other brothers but ... when you can't say something nice, say nothing at all.)
We adopted this crazy, maniacal dog a little over a year ago. I feed her, walk her, provide the treats, and see to her every need. She treats me like a litter mate. Big Daddy is her favorite parent.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Driver's License
Do you remember passing the test and getting your driver's licence? I do. But even more so, I remember when Jan got hers. Who cares who is driving? One of us had the freedom and flexibility to take on the world.
This is the way the doctor explained the oldie's situation to me. (Remember, he has been instructed by me to speak to me like I'm a 5-year old.) "This is the antithesis of the day you get your driver's license. That day represents an open world, open choices, everything is an option. The day you go into (or are put into) a Home, it is the complete full circle. Your options are narrowing. The road is limited. You are no longer in the driver's seat."
I could use some military training. Both Hangdog and Big Daddy are keeping a stiff upper lip. I'm still spending a lot of time on the dog's pillow.
This is the way the doctor explained the oldie's situation to me. (Remember, he has been instructed by me to speak to me like I'm a 5-year old.) "This is the antithesis of the day you get your driver's license. That day represents an open world, open choices, everything is an option. The day you go into (or are put into) a Home, it is the complete full circle. Your options are narrowing. The road is limited. You are no longer in the driver's seat."
I could use some military training. Both Hangdog and Big Daddy are keeping a stiff upper lip. I'm still spending a lot of time on the dog's pillow.
Running into People
I swear Big Daddy knows every person in this city, the Midwest, and various other cities. I learned long ago to either step it up a notch or be prepared to be without makeup, clad in sweats and run into several people we know. A lot of these people don't really know me, they just know me as the wife of someone they know.
Usually I get caught at the drug store or the grocery store. Those are the destinations I am most likely to run to without giving a thought to my appearance. I don't think I've been in an airport in my life without running into someone I know but at least when traveling, I've made a minimal attempt at being presentable.
Yesterday, Big Daddy was taking Hangdog to the Home. I went to visit the mother-in-law. Still in sweats, not a stitch of makeup on my face. (She wouldn't notice or care.) I brushed my teeth and ran a brush through my hair. That's about all I could manage.
I ran into Cynthia. Thank goodness she is my friend.
I can give up worrying about running into people in the grocery or the drug store. Now that we have two places to visit, I am guaranteed to run into someone I know at one of the Homes.
Usually I get caught at the drug store or the grocery store. Those are the destinations I am most likely to run to without giving a thought to my appearance. I don't think I've been in an airport in my life without running into someone I know but at least when traveling, I've made a minimal attempt at being presentable.
Yesterday, Big Daddy was taking Hangdog to the Home. I went to visit the mother-in-law. Still in sweats, not a stitch of makeup on my face. (She wouldn't notice or care.) I brushed my teeth and ran a brush through my hair. That's about all I could manage.
I ran into Cynthia. Thank goodness she is my friend.
I can give up worrying about running into people in the grocery or the drug store. Now that we have two places to visit, I am guaranteed to run into someone I know at one of the Homes.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Comfortable Things
The oldies are back. If you could photograph relief, I should have taken a picture of both of their faces. If you could capture panic in a photo, I should've taken a self-portrait. How could I forget so much in nine days?
They were pampered and spoiled on their trip. The sister-in-law cooked elaborate meals and tried to tend to every need. She's a great cook. I think of the kitchen as that room I walk through to get to my office. Upon returning here, they announced they were hungry so I made soup (from a can) and grilled cheese. When they wanted a cup of coffee, I nuked some that was leftover from breakfast. (It was EXCELLENT! Best meal they've had in days.)
They couldn't wait to crawl into their bed but after a few hours, I was on call again. They are exhausted and there is difficulty with getting around. Plus, I had to personally inspect every bump, bruise, etc. She uses her cell phone to call our home phone. (I have asked her to do this so she doesn't fall but it makes Big Daddy insane.)
Like a blankie, I am one of their comfortable things.
They were pampered and spoiled on their trip. The sister-in-law cooked elaborate meals and tried to tend to every need. She's a great cook. I think of the kitchen as that room I walk through to get to my office. Upon returning here, they announced they were hungry so I made soup (from a can) and grilled cheese. When they wanted a cup of coffee, I nuked some that was leftover from breakfast. (It was EXCELLENT! Best meal they've had in days.)
They couldn't wait to crawl into their bed but after a few hours, I was on call again. They are exhausted and there is difficulty with getting around. Plus, I had to personally inspect every bump, bruise, etc. She uses her cell phone to call our home phone. (I have asked her to do this so she doesn't fall but it makes Big Daddy insane.)
Like a blankie, I am one of their comfortable things.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Riley
Like most children, I didn't give much thought to my name. It is what it is. (I can't believe I just typed that -- I hate that expression.)
Then, I went to college. There was another Sheri/Sherri on my dorm floor. We had the same initials. Her last name was Reid; mine was Riley. Different spellings don't matter when you're screaming down the hall. So, she became Reid and I became Riley. I spent four years with that name.
When the husband and I married, it was important to him that I took his name. I was a little weird about it but it was the right choice.
There's a reason I am Sheri Riley Roman. I refuse to give up the Riley. It speaks to me. I have been married and divorced. The name Riley is constant. It is my identity. It's also a little bit of rebellion. I may love you. I may marry you. I may take your name -- but I'm keeping a little bit of myself in the process.
When I met a friend from college earlier this year, he said, "Hello Riley!" My heart swelled.
Then, I was at the state fair and someone asked, "Weren't you Sheri Riley?"
Yes, I was. I still am.
Then, I went to college. There was another Sheri/Sherri on my dorm floor. We had the same initials. Her last name was Reid; mine was Riley. Different spellings don't matter when you're screaming down the hall. So, she became Reid and I became Riley. I spent four years with that name.
When the husband and I married, it was important to him that I took his name. I was a little weird about it but it was the right choice.
There's a reason I am Sheri Riley Roman. I refuse to give up the Riley. It speaks to me. I have been married and divorced. The name Riley is constant. It is my identity. It's also a little bit of rebellion. I may love you. I may marry you. I may take your name -- but I'm keeping a little bit of myself in the process.
When I met a friend from college earlier this year, he said, "Hello Riley!" My heart swelled.
Then, I was at the state fair and someone asked, "Weren't you Sheri Riley?"
Yes, I was. I still am.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Baby Stuff
The baby has almost completed his first semester at college. His room remains untouched. The mother-in-law goes in there to play on the computer. A couple of nephews have slept in there while visiting. Other than that, it's just the way he left it.
Closets and drawers are stuffed with items that no longer fit or he has no interest in. Stuffed animals that he could not sleep without have been moved to high shelves. They're left like little orphans. Their time is over. The bookshelves are a trip down memory lane. His favorite childhood books mixed in with some of my childhood books. All of his golf trophies and certificates from church are displayed. My baby shoes were bronzed and turned into bookends. Big Daddy's baby shoes were bronzed and they're propped on the top shelf. (Does anyone bronze baby shoes anymore?)
There's a pretty solid collection of VHS tapes -- everything from the Disney Classics to pre-teen favorites. I'm thinking I should put them on eBay. The video game machines are stilled plugged in.
I'm working up the emotional stamina to go in there and start the purge. What to save? What will be important to him later?
As long as we live here, it will always be his room. But, it's time for the clean up to begin.
I'm pretty sure someone will have to wring me out like a dishrag.
Closets and drawers are stuffed with items that no longer fit or he has no interest in. Stuffed animals that he could not sleep without have been moved to high shelves. They're left like little orphans. Their time is over. The bookshelves are a trip down memory lane. His favorite childhood books mixed in with some of my childhood books. All of his golf trophies and certificates from church are displayed. My baby shoes were bronzed and turned into bookends. Big Daddy's baby shoes were bronzed and they're propped on the top shelf. (Does anyone bronze baby shoes anymore?)
There's a pretty solid collection of VHS tapes -- everything from the Disney Classics to pre-teen favorites. I'm thinking I should put them on eBay. The video game machines are stilled plugged in.
I'm working up the emotional stamina to go in there and start the purge. What to save? What will be important to him later?
As long as we live here, it will always be his room. But, it's time for the clean up to begin.
I'm pretty sure someone will have to wring me out like a dishrag.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Running Away
Even though I love to poke fun at my parents or tell revealing stories about the early years, I must admit that my childhood was bliss. I was loved and protected. We always had the essentials and if there were things missing, they weren't important. We didn't go to Europe on vacation. We didn't belong to a country club. I didn't notice; I didn't care. The laughter to tears ratio was 95:5. My parents are extremely funny people. That's part of their magic.
I was not one of those children who ran away from home. It never occurred to me. I ran TO home.
There's this television spot that's running nationwide right now for The Invisible Fence Company. It's haunting and more than one girlfriend has mentioned that it gives her nightmares. It's about your dog running away because you don't have an invisible fence. What the commercial doesn't tell you is the line is buried about 1/2 inch under ground and the likelihood of it being cut when you mow your yard or edge your lawn or shovel snow is pretty large. Then you get to pay a big fat bill to have it repaired.
Now I have a wireless system. It works and the only thing that can destroy it is a power outage. So, I don't think the dog will run away from home any time soon. Actually, she's a little like me, she runs TO home.
The oldies have been running away from home in the past couple of days. I think she's trying to make a point: We're not infirm; We're very busy people! I suspect this has something to do with conversations with Big Daddy but I'm not asking.
I never ran away as a child. Every once in a while, I consider it now. But, I'm taking the dog and Big Daddy with me.
I was not one of those children who ran away from home. It never occurred to me. I ran TO home.
There's this television spot that's running nationwide right now for The Invisible Fence Company. It's haunting and more than one girlfriend has mentioned that it gives her nightmares. It's about your dog running away because you don't have an invisible fence. What the commercial doesn't tell you is the line is buried about 1/2 inch under ground and the likelihood of it being cut when you mow your yard or edge your lawn or shovel snow is pretty large. Then you get to pay a big fat bill to have it repaired.
Now I have a wireless system. It works and the only thing that can destroy it is a power outage. So, I don't think the dog will run away from home any time soon. Actually, she's a little like me, she runs TO home.
The oldies have been running away from home in the past couple of days. I think she's trying to make a point: We're not infirm; We're very busy people! I suspect this has something to do with conversations with Big Daddy but I'm not asking.
I never ran away as a child. Every once in a while, I consider it now. But, I'm taking the dog and Big Daddy with me.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
A Different Kind of Date
The husband and I planned to have a dinner date last night. It didn't happen. He was caught up at work and by the time he came home, we got into an endless (and pointless) discussion with the oldies. I'm being kind by using the word "discussion." At 10:00 P.M., I'm lying on the sofa and he asks, "So what's for dinner?" I pointed toward the kitchen and said, "Knock yourself out."
We steal our moments. We go for walks and we definitely meet up with friends on a regular basis. The hardest part about living with the oldies is the lack of privacy. They are completely kind about it but you can't start a discussion without someone walking into the room. They hide out from us; I know they are trying to stay out of the way and that makes me sad. But, I get a little antsy when I can't have a conversation with the husband. Lots of nights, we sit in the garage or spend hours on the patio. Sometimes, we go in my closet. How bizarre is that?
He needed some routine blood work done and we both needed a flu shot. We went this morning. We had car time together and a couple of quick discussions. It wasn't the date I had in mind but in some weird way, it was still fun.
We steal our moments. We go for walks and we definitely meet up with friends on a regular basis. The hardest part about living with the oldies is the lack of privacy. They are completely kind about it but you can't start a discussion without someone walking into the room. They hide out from us; I know they are trying to stay out of the way and that makes me sad. But, I get a little antsy when I can't have a conversation with the husband. Lots of nights, we sit in the garage or spend hours on the patio. Sometimes, we go in my closet. How bizarre is that?
He needed some routine blood work done and we both needed a flu shot. We went this morning. We had car time together and a couple of quick discussions. It wasn't the date I had in mind but in some weird way, it was still fun.
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