Bittersweet

Today is Jan's birthday! I hope she listens to Lynrd Skynrd. I hope she knows that she is one of the most treasured people in my life.

On her birthday eve, I was listening to music and the husband was trying to figure out chords on the piano. Time flew by and the next thing I knew, it was 11:15 or so. At night! (I am the Queen of early to bed, early to rise.) Then it became a mission -- I will stay awake until midnight so I can call Jan.

I have my own special ring tone on her phone. She always knows it's me. Here I'm thinking I'll just leave her a sweet birthday message but SHE SLEEPS WITH THE PHONE AT HER EAR! Instead of voicemail, I hear, "Hi Sheri, What's wrong? You never call me at midnight." I felt kind of stupid saying, "I just wanted to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday."

The bittersweet part is that today is also Patsy's birthday. I still miss her. It's one of those aches that will never go away, although the pain has changed from stabbing to a dull throb.

The photo above was taken at the beginning of my sophomore year of college. We're not discussing how many years ago that was. We're upbeat. It's our birthday week.

Opposite Coasts

Part of the reason the husband and I were trying to steal a little time last night is that we are headed to opposite coasts next week. We've got to coordinate some time with baby while he's home on break and my rock & roll husband has two band gigs coming up this weekend. Throw in work issues and Hangdog ... well, we're trying to be a well-oiled machine. We're failing but don't we get credit for trying?

The husband is going on a business trip to California. Several of my girlfriends are going to Florida for a winter escape. I did not plan to attend but the husband has concluded I must go. Secretly, I think he's deciding between sending me on a girlfriend trip or visiting me in the nut house. (I am not making fun of mental illness.)

So, I will go to Florida for a few days. The husband will go to California. Hangdog will be in the Home. Hangdog will call me at least five times each day.

I'm taking books and lots of work stuff. I will never turn off my cell phone. I may fed ex the dog pillow to Florida. Curling up on it gives me a strange comfort.

Cross check and call forward. I'm out of here for a few days. Of course, I will still blog.

Determination

Determination is an admirable quality. Most people who achieve their goals do so through hard work and a lot of determination. I am surrounded by a lot of people who use determination to do great things for their families, their companies and their lives in general.

With some people, determination crosses the line to selfishness. I'm not sure how to define it but I know it when I see it. I saw it last night and I'm living it this morning.

That wacky husband of mine thought we might steal a couple of hours together last night. (You know what they say about the best laid plans?)

We stopped for gas and I ran in the convenience store. My cell phone rang. Yep, it's Hangdog. He's obsessed with the husband scheduling the eye surgery. So, I ran outside to hand my phone to the man in charge.

On the way to dinner, my cell phone rang again. (At this point, I just wanted to go home and crawl into bed.) But we soldiered on. We tried to have a quiet dinner and a conversation but at some point it became pointless. Even if you don't answer the phone, you hear it or feel it vibrate and it's distracting.

I know you're thinking, "Why didn't she just turn it off?" I don't know. Mostly I worry about someone at the Home needing to reach me. When the Belle died, we learned of it through a call to my cell phone. I didn't know when the baby was headed home for his break and what if he needed to reach me? T have two clients that often call after their office hours and I needed some answers for projects I am pursuing so turning it off just didn't seem like an option.

We came home and eventually found slumber. Oh no! Now the home phone is ringing. For once I was sleeping so soundly that I didn't hear it. But I felt the husband kicking me and saying, "Get the phone."

Trying to shake the cobwebs from my brain, here's what I remember of the conversation at 1:00AM:

I cannot stay here.
They're trying to kill me.
Please come immediately.
I think I'm going crazy.
They won't give me my medications.
That woman is going to murder me.

Think I went back to sleep? That determined soul called twice more but I did not answer. I'm sure God will have some questions for me about that decision.

At 5:45 this morning, our phone rang again. We were up. I read the caller ID and shoved the phone toward the husband. It wasn't Hangdog; it was one of the nurses.

Hangdog fell and insists on being taken to the hospital for an x-ray. He's certain he's broken a hip. He's the man who cries "Wolf" so we're pretty sure this is an elaborate plan to make things go his way. I want to scream, "This is a plot!"

Determination may be a stellar quality but when it crosses the line, it's selfish and annoying.

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?

You Can't Get Away From Me

The oldies are in Texas and she has called me three times in 36 hours. Each conversation begins with a giggle and, "You can't get away from me."

Thankfully, she sounds strong and lucid so she must be recovered from traveling.

This morning's call was about some bills and paperwork that need addressed. I can handle it. I asked her about the gash on her arm. She forgot to have her son look at it. Gangrene has probably set in. I made her promise to have it examined.

Also, she can't find the charger for the new cell phone. I told her exactly where I put it. It's in the big carry-on bag that I stuck stickers all over with the words "CARRY ON." She will look again but she's not convinced it's there. Later, I will call my sister-in-law and tell her where to look.

The mother-in-law is right. Out of sight, out of mind is not a remote possibility.

To the Rescue

It took me almost two years to impress on the mother-in-law that she needs to take her cell phone when she leaves the house. Then many people started complaining that they couldn't reach her or they left a message on her cell phone which she didn't retrieve. So I suggested that she might want to keep it handy.

Me and my helpful tips!

They are leaving in four hours. She informed us last night that she dropped her cell phone in a sink full of water. Our attempts to dry it out have failed. It's toast. Her grandsons have to be able to reach her since they're all arriving on different flights. Well, I guess they could request a loud speaker announcement: Two young men looking for two oldies!

Once again, I have been rescued. My neighborhood angel is headed to the vicinity of the cell phone store so she offered to take it and see if they'll swap it out. Or just get a new one with the same number.

I realize I could've gone but I am on patrol. The packing will be completed. No one is going to fall on my watch today. They must get on that plane.

Mean to My Mom

I've saluted Mean Moms. This is a different subject. I can be mean to my mom.

When she wants to talk about my bad habits, I can quickly change the subject to her bad habits. When we're going to meet, I send her mean emails listing topics that I do not wish to discuss. When she hangs up on me (usually accidental,) I hunt her down and give her a hard time. When I can't reach her at home or on her cell phone, I leave extremely obnoxious messages: "HELLO! HELLO! Why do you have this phone?" Yet, she always calls back.

I come by this honestly. I am 44-years old and she almost always knows where I am. If she calls my cell phone, the first question is usually, "Where are you?"

My personal favorite is her driving. (I used to only worry about the mother-in-law driving.) My mother has taken safe driving to the level that it's unsafe. If I'm in the car with her or in the car behind her, I'm singing the carol, Winter Wonderland. "Getty Up, Getty Up, Let's Go."

I was following her today. As we both hit the intersection where we would go opposite directions, I rolled down my window and said, "Hello! Do you realize that you were in the wrong lane for the last two blocks or so?" I was hyperventilating -- watching for oncoming traffic or cars that might turn.

We both found this funny and yes, she called me later. "I can get away with nothing!" The husband does not understand how we can be in the same room and go through the same experience and yet, we hit the car and call each other. Then we get home and one must call the other to dissect the experience. Then, I must check my email before bed because Mom might have thought of something else.

We make each other crazy occasionally but in reality we keep each other sane.

Hunting

I went hunting today.

Not like when my cousin Scott goes hunting ... he goes to Africa or South America. He sends me amazing photos and although I don't share his passion for the sport, I am in awe. He's also pretty talented with hunting lucrative business deals.

My hunting is a lot more tame. I don't even need my bullet.

I was supposed to meet my mother for lunch. Something came up with the oldies so I discussed a possible postponement until tomorrow. I said I would call in an hour.

The issue was resolved and I headed out. I called her home. I called her cell phone. I started leaving LOUD messages: Hello! Hello! I know it's going to a recorder but it made me feel better.

I drove to the other side of town, sat in her driveway for a while and then came to a decision: I will find her.

She and my Aunt Judy were having lunch in a cafe that she had mentioned to me. This occurred to me after I'd run through Kroger, stopped at the church, drove through the parking lot at Wendy's and Red Lobster. Finding the little cafe was tricky. I wish I had a photo of the look on her face when I walked in the door.

Scott has nothing on me. I'm a pretty good hunter too.

Without A Net

I like knowing how to reach people. I can become a little obsessive.

When the oldies are here, I call my/our doctor at least twice a week. (He tolerates me.)

I don't have a lot of legal issues but I like knowing that I can walk next door and get my attorney's advice.

The husband is my sounding board and my touchstone. I need his opinion, even if I don't agree.

The husband is on a trip this week. I have no problem with that. But, he's going with my doctor and my attorney. Some business; some golf.

You know how the president and the vice president are not allowed to travel together? Heirs to the throne are not allowed to be on the same plane (although Princess Diana broke this rule.)

I don't think the husband, my attorney and my physician should leave me like this. The oldies will roll in and I'll be left without my support network.

But, I have faith. If disaster strikes, the girlfriends will save me.

The good news is I have ALL of their cell phone numbers.

I've (Almost) Run Out of Teenagers

The baby is happily off at college. My next door neighbor's child (and my friend) is there too. My elder goddaughter is attending a different college, but she's out of here also. I'm a mess.

I don't know how to throw a party without some teenagers to help with errands and hauling. If I go brain dead with some computer issue, I need a teenager. When work calls me away for hours at a time, I could count on a teenager to help with Gabby or the oldies. Why can't I program my iPod or my cellular phone? My usual answer would be provided by one of my teenagers.

The teenage years are when the young ones test the waters. It's a little dance. The rest of us who survived the teenage years cha cha back. We've been there. We remember. That's especially scary for parents, even parents of "good" kids.

I need my teenagers. I want them to have this great experience of college and the big, wide world. But, I hope they come home for the holidays because I need some help.

Cell Phones: A Love/Hate Relationship

Do you know anyone who doesn't own a cell phone? Other than a few 5-year olds, I don't think I do. Mine is attached to me most of the time. I rarely turn it off. (A couple of years ago, it rang during Good Friday service at church and my girlfriend glared at me. Last week, it rang in the movie theater and my mother glared at me. I'm human! I forgot!)

Several years ago, when my mother first got a cell phone, she would forget to turn it on, forget to take it with her or let it be buried in her handbag. I used to leave hateful messages like, "Hello! Your bag is ringing! Pick up!" Now I can usually reach her. Anytime the oldies leave the house, I make sure they have the cell phone. She still can't check the voicemail so you have to call repeatedly.

I can track down the husband if I need him. I can usually track down the kids and even if they don't answer, they both call back immediately. It's a luxury and a relief, especially with one headed off to college and one living in another city.

That's the love part. Here's the hate:

Sometimes you just don't want to be found. There might be an opportunity for a quiet moment or you might be truly involved in something else. It's an interruption. I have started new rules for myself, like not answering when I'm brainstorming or writing. It doesn't work. Even if I put it in another room, I still hear it. Like Pavlov's dog, I run to see who's calling. I'm trained.

When I was a teenager, we didn't have cell phones. We didn't even have cordless phones. Some of my friends still had party lines. I'll never forget the day my friend (J) got her driver's license. She showed up at the front door, waved it in front of me and we bolted. Freedom!!! I don't remember what we did, where we went or any other details. I remember we were gone for seven or so hours. It was a rite of passage, much to the dismay of my parents. Kids today don't get to experience that -- as a parent, I'm glad -- but I get a little nostalgic thinking of that time. Ha Ha! You can't find us!