my, my, my

Wow! I can't believe today is here. Okay, so I can, it's not like I thought the world was ending yesterday or something, but my, my, my, time sure does fly.

Today, Samantha is going to her first prom! Eek! Dad is pretty nervous about this (his baby girl is growing up too fast, sometimes), but I'm sure she'll have a blast. And look gorgeous doing it, natch. Sam's mom has things set up so her date should have to meet the entire extended family on that side before heading off to the dance. That's a good way to start a first date, right?

Next week, Michael will be running in his first track meet. I remember my first track meet and being terrified of the gun they shoot off at the beginning of the race. Luckily it was startling enough to get my butt moving. Also, luckily, Mike has none of my genetics because I wasn't the fastest...

Oh, and today is Bridgette's 6th birthday. Next year, she'll have to switch to "mature" dog food, according to the Iams label. Our sweet, sweet girl almost wasn't here, as I found her at the pound on her last few days on death row.

Thank goodness for the small miracles that have allowed today to be reality. I love my family.

Think Teal

My mom was named after Elizabeth Taylor, and they shared today as their birthday. And I was named after my mom. Elizabeth Taylor was my grandmother's favorite actress.

My grandmother was named Elsie Lee. Apparently she and her sister were both named by nurses because their mom (my great-grandmother) either didn't want to name them, or couldn't come up with names. I think my Nana came out better on the deal than her sister who is named Vesta Gertrude (she goes by "Emma," and I can't imagine why...).

Nana, Gramps, Alison and I

When I told Nana I was getting married, her advice to me was,

"I am going to tell you the same thing I told your mom and your sister when they got married. DO NOT name any children you might have after me. I hate my name, and wouldn't wish it on anyone."

She was quite the character. For proof of that, here Nana is, with balloons under her shirt, and wearing her dentures as earrings:

Nana, being Nana

Mom was a character, too. But they were characters on different levels. I doubt she would have posed with balloons and dentures!

I have so many stories about them. I'll save some of those for a different day, though. Part of their stories are sad, but necessary to tell to hopefully save others. My grandmother had breast cancer, and had to have a mastectomy. When she went in for surgery, the doctor found that she had drawn a smiley face on her chest in permanent marker - and that's not even the wackiest story I have about her (as is probably evidenced by the above photo). She passed away years later, however, it was suspected her cancer had returned. My mother passed away from ovarian cancer. It was only one month after the tumor was found and she was gone.

My baptism: Mom, the pastor, me, and my dad (isn't he handsome?)

Today, in honor of Elizabeth and Elsie, please click the teal ribbon below to visit the National Ovarian Cancer Coalition's website to learn more about ovarian cancer and its signs and symptoms, as well as it's possible links to breast cancer. You may just save a life. It may be yours.

Wicked Writing Tips

I love reading and writing, and my blogs are just another way for me to exercise that hobby. In searching for grad schools, I stumbled upon Southern New Hampshire University and was added to their email list-serv. Here is some excellent - and easy - advice from an amazing author via SNHU.

Author Gregory Maguire: 5 Wicked Tips for Writers | SNHU

His tips sure make me feel better about what I'm doing. Maybe it means I'm on the right track.

remembering you

For most people, I think February symbolizes love, hearts, flowers, candy, pink, red. February reminds me of all the missed opportunities. Not only that, but all the memories that I am terrified will fade away, that I'll no longer be able to recall. The memories we had together. The memories you had that I never knew. My own memories that I fear no one will know if I don't write them down.

Like your favorite color. You used to tell me it was pink, but mine was pink, so I wonder if you were just siding with a toddler rather than reasoning difference with one. How can you know someone 21 years and not be positive what her favorite color was?

I never knew your father was an attorney. Not until last year when it casually came up in a conversation with dad. Did I miss that somewhere? All I ever knew was that he was in the military.

I wonder about how you and dad met. I know the basics, but not the specifics. I have asked him, but there's two sides to every story, but this story is now forever one-sided.

Remember when you used to cut my hair in the kitchen when I was little? I'd sit on those milk jug stools that Dad brought home from Bordens before my time and you painted yellow. Then, when I was older, how I'd cut your hair in the kitchen as you sat on the very same stool.

I remember how you used to tape the Astros games that would air on TV in Rock Springs, and how you'd yell at anyone for telling you the score until you'd watched it, even if it was days later.

Or when the huge box of knitted baby clothes and a handmade ring pillow for a wedding arrived in the mail from your mom, when I was just in high school, along with a note that she might not be around when I had kids, and she wanted me to have them. I thought she was just being her crazy self. The one that made a sock into a purse and wore it to Alison's wedding. But it turned out neither of you made it to my wedding, although that pillow did.

I wonder what you'd think of me now. You never met my husband, my kids. I think you had a lot in common with all of them, and that you'd really get along. Hell, I think even dad likes Harry. Nana thought that was quite impressive. Sometimes I wonder what you'd do in a particular situation or how things might be different. I know it's useless, because you aren't here, but my mind wanders.

February brings your birthday. You'd be 57. Almost exactly 30 years older than me. It's still so weird you aren't here. There's still situations where I am thisclose to picking up the phone to tell you something or ask about your day when I remember.

I remember so many Valentine's Days with you. Even your last. I still have the stuffed puppy dog you brought home to me, not able to bear parting with it. Remember you and dad helping me make my Valentine's card box for the contests at school when I was little. Sharing dinner with you at the French Quarter, not knowing we'd never have another Valentine's date together.

I laid awake late last night with tears streaming down my face for no apparent reason. I guess February really makes me miss you.

I need a full length mirror

I spent all Saturday morning getting ready for an afternoon wedding. It's not that I was in the wedding or had some big responsibility that day. Nope. All I had to do was show up dressed, and my job was pretty much done. The problem was no one was home but me. And 4 dogs. 

Have a mentioned that we don't have any full length mirrors in the house? This was never an issue before, because we had one of those huge mirrors in our master bathroom that pretty much went from the sinks to the ceiling and spanned the whole length of our stylish seashell-shaped sink faux marble countertops. You know the kind, the ones that the designers on HGTV joyfully rip out immediately. And so of course, a few months ago when we updated the bathroom, out that mirror went. No big deal, right? Right, until I have to dress up for something. 

The last wedding I went to was my own, and I was pretty much set on what to wear. I also had about ten other women sharing a hotel suite with me, so I was good to go as far as advice. Before that I think the last wedding I was at was five years ago, so my fashion etiquette was rusty. Ripping dresses off hangers and digging for shoes, scarves, purses. Can I wear a black dress? Or does that scream "I got confused and thought I was going to a funeral!" Maybe not. Kate Middleton wore black to a wedding. I saw it, and she's golden, so I'm probably okay there. Should I throw that blazer on over my strapless dress or is that too job-interviewy? Mmm...never saw Kate do that, better not. Nylons? Tights? She can pull them off. I better get my ass to Target and find some. Can't wear anything that has a significant amount of white or ivory, so that rules out the cute dress with peacock feathers on it. I thought about texting a friend to find out what she was wearing, but thought better of it deciding that "what are you wearing?" is too junior high. 

So I resorted to trying on each dress, with the coordinating tights and shoes, then standing on one leg on the fourth stair up, holding onto the railing with one hand and stretching out my other leg and half my body over the bottom three stairs so I could catch a glimpse of my outfit in the mirror mounted over our fireplace. Let me tell you, I looked classy. It only would be a better mental image for you if I fell off my perch and tumbled down the stairs in my black dress, with my blazer flying up over my head (which, incidentally, almost happened).

My flying-squirrel-in-front-of-the-mirror gig wasn't working for me, so I thought I'd see what my dogs' opinions were. Yep, that's how desperate I was getting. Outside I went, so they could check me out. Charlie couldn't have cared less. He's what I like to call our "simple" dog. All you have to do is say "Chaaaaaar-leeeeee" in a baby voice and wave at him and he's on cloud nine. He'll wag his tail, but only to one side, because that's how he rolls. Lola just ran right past me and went over to pee next to Charlie. She's nice like that. Two down, two to go. Bella thought my dress would look better accessorized with two muddy paw prints right up front. Um no. And then Bridgette moseyed on over. "Excellent," I thought. Bridgette actually has opinions. She prefers green over all other colors, she likes toys that can float in the pool, she even likes wearing clothes herself. The thing with Bridgette is that she really loves me AND she thinks she's the size of Lola (7 lbs) when really, she's about 10 times that, and she enjoys the pool more than anyone else in the family so she's wet ninety percent of the time. Bridgette was all smiles as she came up to me. I thought, "wow, she really likes my outfit." By the way, I know everyone reading this started to think I was crazy by the time they started reading this paragraph, but I promise, I'm mostly not. Moving on. Bridgette started to turn and circle me. "Checking me out," I thought. Wrong. At this point I should mention that Bridge was hit by a car and broke and dislocated her jaw when she was about 6 months old. As a result, her lower jaw sits about a half inch off-kilter and one of her favorite pastimes is having her muzzle scratched. Anyway, she made her way around me and immediately started rubbing the sides of her muzzle on my backside. And her head is right at about the same level as my butt. "Okay, well I see you like this dress, Bridgette, but now I CAN'T wear it, since my butt is now covered in a gloppy mess of your saliva, your hair, and pool water." Yum.

Gray and black dress, with black shrug and patterned tights it is. As it turns out, my friend I almost texted was having the same (albeit probably not as dramatic) issues picking out clothes as I was. Moral of the story, you ask? It's two-fold, it is. 1) Do not ask your dogs for advice. If they care, and that's a big if, when they like something, it will most likely become unwearable, so don't bother (and when you tell others about it, everyone will think you've gone off the deep end); 2) Own a full-length mirror. It will make your life so much easier. Or at the very least, spare you the trouble of nearly ricocheting down some stairs. In my personal experience anyway...

Blessed

Today I rang in my birthday surrounded by love.  I am so blessed to have the most wonderful family and friends.

Twenty-seven things I loved about today:

1. Being woken up at midnight so Harry could tell me happy birthday
2. Sleeping in
3. Orange roses from Harry
4. A piece of homemade cake from my hubby (funfetti with sprinkle frosting - yum! - the first cake he's ever made!)
5. A second piece of cake
6. Sharing cake with my dogs
7. Watching Charlie try to lick the frosting off his nose
8. Gym membership so I can get back to yoga class - yeah!
9. New clothes
10. A singing voicemail from my dad
11. Messages and posts from friends
12. Go-karts with Harry
13. Passing Harry in the go-kart, even though I know he slowed down so I could
14. Having Harry convince the go-kart guy that my niece and nephew should be able to ride go-karts with us for free.
15. Erianna screaming, "this is awesome!!!" on the go-karts
16. Batting cages
17. Missing every pitch at the batting cages
18. Mini golf with the whole family
19. Dinner and drinks
20. A third piece of cake
21. A message from my stepdaughter that said, "Happy birthday Skarin! Love you"
22. A text from a great friend that said, "Shit I just remembered you're old as hell today :)"
23. A text from my love, "I love you birthday girl, sweet dreams"
24. A fourth piece of cake
25. Being old enough to appreciate the day
26. Being too young to care about being older
27. The love of family and friends

Happy birthday to me, thank you to all of you!

another day, another dollar, another year, still look 15?!?!

That's right, folks.  Next week will be my 27th birthday and just a few weeks ago a good friend of mine told me I could probably pass for 15.  Physically, I don't really feel much different than I did when I was 15, except for a little back pain, but that's been around since 16 when I got dropped a few too many times from the top of the cheerleading pyramid, so whatever.

I've been told that I should embrace looking young and love the fact that people think I'm a kid.  "I will appreciate it when I'm older," they say.  Easier said than done.  This issue has been especially frustrating when I answer the door of my house and a salesperson asks if my mom and dad are home, or when the YMCA told me I couldn't get a family membership without my parents present.  Or when a barista at Starbucks mistook me for being my stepson's sister.  However...now that I think about it, perhaps I could use this to my advantage (wicked, nefarious laughter inside my head).  My 10-year high school reunion is coming up.  It's going to feel damn good when all the dudes I graduated with are rockin' their salt and peppered thinning hair, with their beer guts hanging over their pants (trust, I've seen the pictures on facebook), and I'm carded for drinks, sitting next to my husband who has a nice head of hair.   Yeah.  I think I can make this work for me.

I'm not going to get all corny and say "age is just a number, blah, blah, blah...", because, well, no shit.  But it's for sure a state of mind.  I don't feel like I'm in my late twenties (I'm thinking 27 falls into that category).  Pre-thirties sounds cool.  I mean people say pre-teen, so why not?  Pre- anything sounds better than late- something.  I mean, I'm not gonna lie about it and be one of those freaky women that tells everyone they are 30 for 15 years.  I'm totally okay with my age - ask me, I won't lie.  See, I'm putting it out there for everyone to see.  But whatever.  If people want to think I'm in high school, I think I could have some fun with that.

Happy birthday to me.