This week, my fingers will be silenced to honor the deaths of some dear friends. This morning, Mike, Lorna, and Hayden lost their lives in a house fire. Hayden was going to start the 5th Grade with Jenna tomorrow. Jenna and Hayden have been friends their entire lives (9 Years). We are so very sad to hear that Haydens' father Mike, a Waterford Police Officer, may have been the one to send himself and his family to their untimely deaths. Jennas' words of comfort to me were: "Papa loved Hayden and now he gets to see them in Heaven". I told her that maybe Papa greeted them at the door. We pray for their souls. We miss them already!
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Yes, I am Wonder Woman
Diana Prince:
*Black, wavy hair
*Buxom figure
*Blue eyes
*Flashy smile
*Invisible Jet Plane
That was me, age 10 years-old. At least in the mind of my 6 year-old cousin, Nester. So I was a bit more developed than my 10 year-old peers, OK, I was a bit more developed than the 15 year-old girls too.....THAT didn't mean I was the Goddess incarnate......or did it? With my invisible jet, magic rope and little cousin at my heels, I was Wonder Woman! Funny how having one person to believe in you, can lift you so high. I became a natural at the Wonder Woman Spin used only in case of emergency to magically transform from the average Diana Prince, to a super-human Goddess. I was astonished at my talent for flying the Invisible Jet Plane (although troubled that I was STILL VISIBLE to everyone including my enemies while flying in the invisible jet....minor detail). At the age of 10, I was able to defeat even the most horrific monster that Nester would conjure up. Today, I recalled being Diana Prince, and thus, Wonder Woman. I was marveling at the feats I was able to accomplish in just one day. They were feats of a domestic nature, but amazing nevertheless. At least now I know the monsters by their first names: Josh, Jessie, Jenna and Juliet.
*Black, wavy hair
*Buxom figure
*Blue eyes
*Flashy smile
*Invisible Jet Plane
That was me, age 10 years-old. At least in the mind of my 6 year-old cousin, Nester. So I was a bit more developed than my 10 year-old peers, OK, I was a bit more developed than the 15 year-old girls too.....THAT didn't mean I was the Goddess incarnate......or did it? With my invisible jet, magic rope and little cousin at my heels, I was Wonder Woman! Funny how having one person to believe in you, can lift you so high. I became a natural at the Wonder Woman Spin used only in case of emergency to magically transform from the average Diana Prince, to a super-human Goddess. I was astonished at my talent for flying the Invisible Jet Plane (although troubled that I was STILL VISIBLE to everyone including my enemies while flying in the invisible jet....minor detail). At the age of 10, I was able to defeat even the most horrific monster that Nester would conjure up. Today, I recalled being Diana Prince, and thus, Wonder Woman. I was marveling at the feats I was able to accomplish in just one day. They were feats of a domestic nature, but amazing nevertheless. At least now I know the monsters by their first names: Josh, Jessie, Jenna and Juliet.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Revealed! My Personality Twin!
You're My Little Pony!! Sweet and innocent and
happy, you make people want to spew burrito
chunks. Even a Care Bear could kick your ass.
What childhood toy from the 80s are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Hitting: a new drug?
My son, the spaz. He loves to hit, people, that is....
He goes into a trance-like state, eyes rolled back slightly, nostrils flared, and he begins his reign of terror. No one is ever certain when or where this "trance" will occur, but it comes on like a potent, illegal drug....
Without provocation or reason, there he goes..... He is going to hit and someone is gonna get hurt (maybe even cry). Look at him, you might be the next victim. Laugh, cough, sneeze, smirk, send him a birthday card, pass gas, inhale, exhale, speak, eat, sniffle, feed him dinner -- you are at risk and might get hit. Walk past him while he is playing his PS2 and you are almost certain to get hit. (I have since learned that walking past him ALWAYS causes his guy to get killed!)....So you must pay the price and get hit!
Pondering on this strange quirk that engulfs my son, I look for the positive side as taught to me by my dear friend, Kathie. I have found that yes, there are positives to his behavior! The most MAJOR positive is that my son is NOT prejudice in any way, shape or form. It matters not to him if you are black, white or purple, if you are young, old, or in-between. He doesn't mind that you are suffering from major cramps, a broken bone, syphilis, or a brain tumor, you can still be his target and you might get hit!
p.s. Thank you Kathie! Your positive methods have worked wonders! (Now, DON'T hit me, ok?)
He goes into a trance-like state, eyes rolled back slightly, nostrils flared, and he begins his reign of terror. No one is ever certain when or where this "trance" will occur, but it comes on like a potent, illegal drug....
Without provocation or reason, there he goes..... He is going to hit and someone is gonna get hurt (maybe even cry). Look at him, you might be the next victim. Laugh, cough, sneeze, smirk, send him a birthday card, pass gas, inhale, exhale, speak, eat, sniffle, feed him dinner -- you are at risk and might get hit. Walk past him while he is playing his PS2 and you are almost certain to get hit. (I have since learned that walking past him ALWAYS causes his guy to get killed!)....So you must pay the price and get hit!
Pondering on this strange quirk that engulfs my son, I look for the positive side as taught to me by my dear friend, Kathie. I have found that yes, there are positives to his behavior! The most MAJOR positive is that my son is NOT prejudice in any way, shape or form. It matters not to him if you are black, white or purple, if you are young, old, or in-between. He doesn't mind that you are suffering from major cramps, a broken bone, syphilis, or a brain tumor, you can still be his target and you might get hit!
p.s. Thank you Kathie! Your positive methods have worked wonders! (Now, DON'T hit me, ok?)
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Primal Instinct
My encounter this morning was entered into with much naivete. I was overly tired from a late evening/morning and managed to just walk through the gate as if I belonged there. Obviously not functioning on all cylindars, I looked the emu straight in the eye (only one eye was visible). My gut instinct told me that the eye was a psychotic eye, capable of murder or worse! (witnessed by me once before in my ex-husband) Then my ears honed in on the war drum sound....surely this couldn't be happening! Now, there were two emu, standing side by side. They were a team and had found their victim. I stumbled through hundreds of ducks, geese, chickens, rabbits and a couple of deer, looking for a safe haven. With certainty, I determined the emu could and possibly would peck me in the head, thus causing a slow, messy death......Paul was two football fields ahead of me, by the time I were to call for him to help, I would be pecked and kicked to a bloody pulp!!! The war drums kept on, taunting me, torturing me. Do emu eat meat? I could hardly remember. Where is Steve Irwin when you need him??? All of the animal documentaries in the world couldn't save me now. Suddenly, Paul appeared with lettuce and grapes. The emu ran to him and devoured the offering. I guess emu are vegetarians after all!
Orphan Socks
I must be overwhelmed with responsibility. How can socks ruin my day? Next stop, the looney bin. Jessica is going hiking today, but she is ready to leave without socks, just tennis shoes. "Put on your socks", I demand. "I have no socks" she replies. Am I crazy or did I just place a steaming hot pair on her bed last night? Well, those made it to the floor, which then made it to the dirty clothes hamper. They had no opportunity to pass go, nor to collect $200. Those poor socks, they spend day after day waiting to be worn, but constantly re-placed into the dirty clothes hamper, then to the wash machine. It must be easier to throw them into the hamper, unworn and clean, than to put them in the sock drawer. I must be old, because I don't get the logic there.....
Now I sit here staring at two large baskets of "orphan" socks. I am usually blamed for being incapable of matching up the pairs. I say the other family members have some responsibility in this matter. They take them off, manage to place one in a hamper and leave one on the floor, which eventually goes on a journey underneath the bed, leaving me with one sock in the dryer and thus, an orphan. The events leading to the separation of the pair are never taken into consideration when the judgment is passed down to me. And the judgment is swift and harsh. "Mommmm.......none of us have socks!!!!! When are you going to do laundry?????" Good thing they didn't give a Parenting Exam prior to my becoming a mother, surely I would have failed....my saving grace....Thank God it is summer and bless the man who invented the sandal!
Now I sit here staring at two large baskets of "orphan" socks. I am usually blamed for being incapable of matching up the pairs. I say the other family members have some responsibility in this matter. They take them off, manage to place one in a hamper and leave one on the floor, which eventually goes on a journey underneath the bed, leaving me with one sock in the dryer and thus, an orphan. The events leading to the separation of the pair are never taken into consideration when the judgment is passed down to me. And the judgment is swift and harsh. "Mommmm.......none of us have socks!!!!! When are you going to do laundry?????" Good thing they didn't give a Parenting Exam prior to my becoming a mother, surely I would have failed....my saving grace....Thank God it is summer and bless the man who invented the sandal!
Monday, August 02, 2004
Five Loud Knocks - a story
I was awoken by the five loud knocks. They were coming from inside my closet door. I immediately closed my eyes to fall back to sleep, I was certain I imagined it. The knocks started up again, this time more aggessive, maybe even urgent. I smiled and acknowledged the knocks by whispering "Yes, I hear you." I hoped the knocks didn't wake the baby in the crib next to me. How odd to have such a "visit" in my house. My experiences of the past occurred at my parents' house. My dad swore the place was haunted. He was often times home alone and would hear voices and music in other rooms. When he would go to investigate, the room would become silent, only to start again when he walked away. He would tell of door knobs moving and doors opening or locking without human assistance. One Halloween night, my six year-old daughter became "spooked" while sitting next to me in the basement. She proclaimed that she had to get upstairs so the man would stop starring at her. Once we got upstairs, she described a gentleman in a tuxedo (tails) with a white tie, cumberbun and black tophat to my parents and I. We decided it was bedtime and looked at each other convinced that Jessica saw "something". Shortly after that evening, I was staying at my parents house and awoken one night by loud clapping. Clap! Clap! Clap! I could feel the breeze on my face and was quite paralyzed with fear. The sound was so loud, it echoed against the walls. When I tried to sleep again, the clapping started up. Quite frightened, I spoke out that "we have lived here for many years and are aware of you, we expect to never be harmed by you". That was my last experience at my parents "haunted home". I wish I could sit here and tell you that I have psychic powers and have the ability to speak to those on the other side, but I can't. I am merely a curious person with an open mind. As a young child, I was enthralled by the "olden days". My fire was fueled by my Grand-dad who was a great story teller. I would sit on the floor next to his rocker and soak it all in. He sat in a large, wooden rocker with thick armrests. He would place his hands down- fingers first and rhythmically roll each finger off the edge. I would count; one, two, three, four....and again......Once I sat in the chair and tried the technique for myself, just to see how it would feel. I decided to remember that odd habit forever, along with this song that Grand-dad taught me:
I dreamed a dream the other night I dreamed that I could fly. Flap my wings like a butterfly and fly up to the sky. Met old Master Peter, he looked so nice and neat, asked me in for dinner, and this is what we eat: Turnip Greens turnip greens good ol' turnip greens, cornbread, buttermilk, good ol' navy beans.
I never really understood the meaning other than someone died and went to Heaven to eat Turnip Greens and Cornbread. At the youthful age of 10, I would listen to my "old" Grand-dad tell of the good ol' days. He was in his 80's and lived before 1900! My favorite story was the one of his great-grandfathers' funeral, John Bell. Grand-dad was only three years-old at the time but he remembered the horse-drawn hearse, the rain, the mud and throwing dirt on the casket. I almost think he told me the hearse ran over a small child and got stuck in the mud, but I can't be certain. As if that story wasn't exciting enough, I learned that John Bell was the only person in US History to be officially listed as being killed by the magical powers of a witch! This witch is now known as the Bell Witch. I investigated this witch at my Junior High School Library. Much to my delight, the library had three books dedicated to this witch! I learned the Bell Witch was madly in love with my great-great-great grandfather, but he was married with children and, I suspect, not very interested in hooking up with a witch. She tormented him and his family for years until she finally killed him....with a curse to come back and torment the 3rd generation (my Fathers' generation)! I hit pay dirt. My dull existance was now infused with a real and deadly witch! Which somehow leads me back to the five loud knocks. I guess I will never know why or how they happened, but that morning, my life was profoundly changed....forever.
That morning, I was up early and went for a workout at the gym. My workout was typical, marred by my mental self-abuse. Then things started going in slow motion. I was chatting with people and feeling unusually social. I told one woman that I was going to make Easter Dinner for my parents at their house because they had both been under the weather.....I was worried because being a vegetarian, I had never cooked a ham. The woman and another woman stopped their primping in the mirror and turned to me and told me how nice it was for me to do and that my parents are very lucky to have me as a daughter. This was a wierd conversation, but it touched me in a strange way. I felt energized to go to my parents house and begin the dinner process, as Easter was the following morning. I called mom and dads' house while en-route and found the line busy. This was not uncommon as my parents believe that "call-waiting is very rude!" At a stoplight, a few minutes from their house, I finally reached my mother. She was screaming hysterically, and I could barely make out her words. "Get here quick, you dad is dead, oh God, get here, call Gabby, get Gabby!" At this point a fireman got on the line to confirm this horror and told me they needed to restrain my mother and were worried about her heart condition. I began to pray. I called my husband (Gabby) and my friend Kathie. I found many fire trucks, police cars and an ambulance at my parents home. I asked God to give me the strength to walk in the door. He did.
We aren't sure what caused dad to leave us that day. Mom couldn't wake him that morning and she thought he might have had a stroke because he was still warm. I guess it never occurred to her that he was already gone. As the EMS guys just stood by the bed, my mother yelled at them "help him! help me! do something! why aren't you helping him?" It took three hours to remove dad from the house and it was on that day, I finally grew up. Time will no longer be measured in years for me, but measured by moments. Before dad died and after dad died.
I dreamed a dream the other night I dreamed that I could fly. Flap my wings like a butterfly and fly up to the sky. Met old Master Peter, he looked so nice and neat, asked me in for dinner, and this is what we eat: Turnip Greens turnip greens good ol' turnip greens, cornbread, buttermilk, good ol' navy beans.
I never really understood the meaning other than someone died and went to Heaven to eat Turnip Greens and Cornbread. At the youthful age of 10, I would listen to my "old" Grand-dad tell of the good ol' days. He was in his 80's and lived before 1900! My favorite story was the one of his great-grandfathers' funeral, John Bell. Grand-dad was only three years-old at the time but he remembered the horse-drawn hearse, the rain, the mud and throwing dirt on the casket. I almost think he told me the hearse ran over a small child and got stuck in the mud, but I can't be certain. As if that story wasn't exciting enough, I learned that John Bell was the only person in US History to be officially listed as being killed by the magical powers of a witch! This witch is now known as the Bell Witch. I investigated this witch at my Junior High School Library. Much to my delight, the library had three books dedicated to this witch! I learned the Bell Witch was madly in love with my great-great-great grandfather, but he was married with children and, I suspect, not very interested in hooking up with a witch. She tormented him and his family for years until she finally killed him....with a curse to come back and torment the 3rd generation (my Fathers' generation)! I hit pay dirt. My dull existance was now infused with a real and deadly witch! Which somehow leads me back to the five loud knocks. I guess I will never know why or how they happened, but that morning, my life was profoundly changed....forever.
That morning, I was up early and went for a workout at the gym. My workout was typical, marred by my mental self-abuse. Then things started going in slow motion. I was chatting with people and feeling unusually social. I told one woman that I was going to make Easter Dinner for my parents at their house because they had both been under the weather.....I was worried because being a vegetarian, I had never cooked a ham. The woman and another woman stopped their primping in the mirror and turned to me and told me how nice it was for me to do and that my parents are very lucky to have me as a daughter. This was a wierd conversation, but it touched me in a strange way. I felt energized to go to my parents house and begin the dinner process, as Easter was the following morning. I called mom and dads' house while en-route and found the line busy. This was not uncommon as my parents believe that "call-waiting is very rude!" At a stoplight, a few minutes from their house, I finally reached my mother. She was screaming hysterically, and I could barely make out her words. "Get here quick, you dad is dead, oh God, get here, call Gabby, get Gabby!" At this point a fireman got on the line to confirm this horror and told me they needed to restrain my mother and were worried about her heart condition. I began to pray. I called my husband (Gabby) and my friend Kathie. I found many fire trucks, police cars and an ambulance at my parents home. I asked God to give me the strength to walk in the door. He did.
We aren't sure what caused dad to leave us that day. Mom couldn't wake him that morning and she thought he might have had a stroke because he was still warm. I guess it never occurred to her that he was already gone. As the EMS guys just stood by the bed, my mother yelled at them "help him! help me! do something! why aren't you helping him?" It took three hours to remove dad from the house and it was on that day, I finally grew up. Time will no longer be measured in years for me, but measured by moments. Before dad died and after dad died.
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