Happy Holidays! Hope that you and yours are having a fabulous holiday season!
Last week, we received (another year in a row) a Christmas card for our neighbors across the street with our address. I circled the address (thinking the neighbors would notify their friends of their correct address) and had my son run it across the street and put it in their mailbox.
Today, we received the card in the mail...AGAIN.
While mail courier service is dying and it has been suggested to mail back empty SASE envelopes from credit card companies to charge their dime as well as keep mailmen busy, that wasn't our thought for the Christmas card!
So my son ran it back across the street and put it back in their mailbox. This time they should get it as the mailbox has mail in it - too bad it is after Christmas!
Cheers! =)
Monday, December 27, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
'Tis the Season to Give Thanks
'Tis the Season of Christmas. Christmas and holidays can be very difficult and stressful times. I am feeling absolutely fortunate and blessed. I do feel that I am never given more than I can handle, despite questioning and wondering the validity of that statement at times. I have a survivor mentality and personality and most of all the best mother and friend I could ever want or ask!
I am so very thankful for my mom and her husband. For their love, support and faith. For their selflessness and their unconditional love. For their acceptance and guidance and nurturance. For their ability to listen, console and advise. For their ability to be fabulous grandparents, parents and friends.
I am thankful for my health, my son, my employment, my sanity, my family and my friends to name a few. I know that silently I give thanks. I recognize who I am and the opportunities and experiences I have endured. The road less traveled, the road of speed bumps and the Sunday scenic drives along the path that often seems like a six-lane expressway.
At this holiday season, I feel blessed. I AM blessed.
I wish and hope for you: Wishing a blessed, safe and happy holiday season to you and yours!
Date Night Results 2010
Last week I posted about our Annual "Date Night" here. Here were our results from 2009. I definitely do better painting rather than trying to use some creative juices and mojo.
Without further ado, here is my frog toothbrush mug for the bathroom:
Yes, I am THIRTY - SIX. Not. SIX. I am the first to admit that my artistic talents were suppressed when I was in grade school but if you want to be reminded of my experience, read here. But date night isn't about the final product per se, it's about the fun, experience and memories created!
Without further ado, here is my frog toothbrush mug for the bathroom:
Yes, I am THIRTY - SIX. Not. SIX. I am the first to admit that my artistic talents were suppressed when I was in grade school but if you want to be reminded of my experience, read here. But date night isn't about the final product per se, it's about the fun, experience and memories created!
Father: Not a Eulogy, Not What I Wanted...Acceptance? Deliverance? Diatribe?
I've yet to find the words to express about my dad, my father, the man who shared a life with my mother and raised me. A man that I idolized and hoped to one day find in a partner. A man that when I was a Senior in High School shattered my world by treating me as an adult and confidant and disclosing information to a daughter that she should have never had to hear because he was divorcing my mom. Words that have left permanent scars and have me questioning every relationship I ever have.
When I was 19, I went to my aunt's house to celebrate Christmas. My dad stepped out of the room and came back with a check for me for Christmas. He spelled my name wrong. He was still hungover from the night before. He. Spelled. My. Name. Wrong. My dad also told me that as an adult I could choose to have a relationship with him and I knew where to find him.
When I was 22 years old, two years after graduating college, I found myself living with my boyfriend and pregnant. I was disappointed in myself. I was scared. I felt alone. I feared telling my parents, even though I graduated High School at 17 and other than the first summer after college, I never again lived with my parent(s). When I told my dad, he said, "I'm not surprised. What do you expect when you are shacking up with your boyfriend."
Maybe I should rewind...I've posted it before - the year of 1982. Sometimes, I think my mom makes excuses for my dad, his health and that he isn't the father and dad and man he once was. I want to believe that. I want to believe that. I try to keep low expectations to not be disappointed - but the truth is, I expect things from my dad, my father - in sickness - as I did in health. I was disappointed. I continue to be disappointed.
I believe my dad gave up on living when he reached 55 (and even before). He turned 64 this summer. He had outlived his paternal male relatives. He was on borrowed time and wanted to live life to the fullest. Forget to take the routine medication and injections for his diabetes. Eat and live and be merry. Or just eat whatever you want, move from bed to kitchen to couch and succumb to the illness. My dad has too many ailments to list - from diabetes, COPD, heart failure (heart functions at 11% - bypass, stints, catherizations galore), high blood pressure, high cholesterol, etc.
My dad remarried in 1999. I was invited to his wedding, but not included in a father-daughter dance. His wife and I have always had issues (she is a "welfare" recipient - never maintaining a job much longer than 6 months, feeling entitled for everyone to care for her, not being able to budget/finance/see reality but living in the moment of self-gratification). They have little relationship with my son. They rarely if ever call and never ask to speak with my son. Some years, when they have money for stamps - they may send a holiday gift or card. They don't call. We have visited them. The relationship is strained.
On Thanksgiving in 2008, I posted this. The relationship hasn't been the same. I stopped receiving her monthly calls that he was back in the ER and was dying. Sometimes I would get them, more often not. His wife would call my brother and then expect him to call or tell me (he has been "dying" and admitted to the hospital almost monthly for years). I had been deleted from her FB page. As hurt and upset as I was by everything, for my own sanity, I had to remove myself from the drama and the lies. I no longer received email updates and I would sometimes receive them third-handed from family members. My brother and I would share stories based on phone calls we each had had with my dad and/or his wife. My dad was always the most coherent when hospitalized and appropriately medicated. It was always the best time to talk to him. He almost seemed able to communicate and knew what he was saying.
This summer, I was informed that my dad needed a heart transplant (and had to get one before his 65th birthday, the deadline of transplants). Phone calls with his wife were always different. From them moving back to Michigan so she could live with her family while he recovered, to the following month having a transplant in Jacksonville Florida because her daughter got a job and was moving there from Michigan, to the next month when he was leaving Tampa after a doctor appointment to consider a transplant or VAD. I never heard where Tampa came into the picture. I still don't understand. Tampa is 4 hours from where they live. They have no friends or social support in Tampa or even in Florida (with the new exception of Jacksonville). My dad isn't healthy enough to drive himself and she can't legally drive. Why would she pick a hospital 4+ hours away? Why?
I supported her and her decision. I didn't understand it. Maybe she was ready for him to die. I can't be of any social support, neither can my brother - we live across the country. A week later, he was admitted into Tampa General for extensive testing to see if he was a candidate. After almost a week they couldn't get his sugar stabilized, and it was up in the 500 range. My aunt emailed me (and my brother) and said that she had seen him and she felt he was dying. If we wanted to see him alive, we needed to visit and do it soon. She had driven over from Texas to say her goodbye.
Of course I was recovering from my hammer to the face adventure. I hadn't heard anything from my dad or his wife. The email was news to me. I called my brother. He had heard from my dad's wife the night before that they also found a lump in his neck that they were biopsying (which was non-cancerous). We talked about the severity of the situation (having heard the Boy Who Cried Wolf so many times previously) and trying to understand. Having our Aunt there made the situation different - having a neutral non-threatening, non-manipulative voice to discuss his condition. I attempted to talk to hospital staff. Within 30 minutes of receiving the email, my brother and I had booked plane tickets and made arrangements and were going to be in Tampa that evening.
In the morning, we went to the hospital to visit our dad. He had no idea that we were coming. We spent two days at the hospital. We were part of a very difficult family meeting with the Social Worker and RN who informed us that because of lack of social support, transportation and financial issues - a transplant consideration was not possible. We accepted our fate. My brother gave my dad's wife his blessings to find housing in the retirement community they have moved from several times due to financial constraints. We broke the news to my dad that he was not a candidate for a heart transplant or a VAD. My brother and I had time with him, what we anticipated would be our last time with him. The IV he was on, was pumping his heart for him. Slowly, he was dying. His heart would cease. The good news, he was approved for Hospice with his IV and would be discharged later that week.
Without being at the hospital, I wouldn't have known what was going on (like the months my dad has lived without bathing because he battles depression and lack of motivation). His wife sent out mass emails while we were there - I had my aunt forward them. Her email after we returned home in summary was that the hospital and his children left him to die but that she is going to fight for her husband. He needs money and a transplant. Please send money or well wishes if you can't afford to send money. Of course I wasn't a recipient of those emails either.
I was lost. I felt paralyzed. I felt numb. I was there. I was in the hospital. What was going on? What were these emails that I purposely wasn't copied on (or emails for almost two years prior)? I'm a realist. I have become cynical. I'm not the only one. Is this her attempt to relieve guilt? To say she did everything? Or is this her way to raise money to fund her own hopes and dreams?
The next thing I know, Hospice is no longer coming daily, they come once a week and she has enlisted the assistance of a national transplant fund for fundraising. They have been denied a transplant in Jacksonville as well. The latest and last option, a transplant in Orlando. Orlando, 40 minutes from where they live. FORTY. MINUTES.
Sunday I spoke with my dad. He told me he has an appointment at the hospital in Orlando. He has no idea how long he will be there - if he will be admitted. Orlando has his file. He told me that they have received $2000 in donations but at $100 per transport (he's saying 4 a month AFTER the transplant) that the money will have little impact. This is their last chance at a hospital and transplant. Why wasn't Orlando their first option? Why was Tampa that was logistically impossible for them? During the conversation he told me that they were denied for mortgages in the retirement community (they would need two: one for an older trailer/home they will demolish and then one to build the new home on the property) - as he receives Social Security and she receives Disability. Why they need a new home, I don't understand. Why they can't live in the apartment you ask? Because she isn't a senior citizen and without his income of Social Security she couldn't live in the retirement community without his income. She needs to move in while he is alive. She has to. She refuses to talk to me. She hovers in the background on the phone and attempts to answer questions my dad is relaying because he doesn't know or care to know the answers. He does what he is told. He gets up when she tells him to and goes where he is taken.
Today in the mail, my son received a Christmas card. My son. Not my son and I. My son. I had had it. I called my dad again and asked what was going on. That I was hurt. That years ago when he said that I had to accept them as a package or not at all, that I did. That I have been respectful and civil and not received the same. That I am not notified of his health and happenings. That him calling back yesterday to ask for my email address that all of my email addresses have been the same for over seven years was ridiculous. He said he had no idea. He suggested I talk to her. After a good two minutes, she finally got on the phone. She was passive-aggressive.
I thanked her for my son's Christmas card. She told me my card would arrive in a few days. I then inquired that she had sent separate cards. She said she had - first time EVER. I then asked her why she wasn't copying me on emails and notifying me. She told me that she didn't have my email address. I told her that she did and they have been the same for seven years. She told me that I use my son as a pawn. I had no idea what she was talking about. She yelled that I don't allow him to talk to his grandparents. They have never called to talk to him and he has NEVER asked to call them. (They are not active grandparents and as close as he is to my mother - unless she calls him, he doesn't talk on the phone.) This woman then went on to say, "If you didn't know, your dad isn't well." I replied, "Oh really? I didn't know that. Maybe if you told me, I would know." She then started yelling more and I hung up on her.
I started to call my boyfriend back who had called during the conversation and I hung up after two rings. I sat in my basement stairwell and I sobbed. Sobbed uncontrollably. I cursed in my head. And when I collected myself, I dialed my mom. And when she got on the phone, I sobbed uncontrollably again and cursed. And while I sobbed and I cursed, his wife called me back. I let it go to voicemail.
This was the voicemail, "Hey X. Ok since you hung up on me. Uhhh...That's pretty mature. Umm...but besides the point. Do you have any idea what I'm going through? Do you have any idea? I hope you never ever have to find out because I know you don't care about your dad. You basically just kind of wrote him off. That's what you did. You came to Florida. It was a pity fuck trip. And you came there and you basically wrote him off. That's all you did. You never. You don't call your dad. You don't do anything for your dad. You don't even, you your, your mother. Or you could live here in Tallahassee and I'll guarantee that you would never see your dad. You wanna know why I don't keep you in the loop? Because frankly X, I'm sorry, Let me just let it all hang out BABY, don't stop calling your dad. I think you are a BITCH and so do a few other people I know. So whatever HONEY. Just a, your card is in the mail. You are going to get it. I didn't leave you out. I'm not that cruel. I'm not that big of a bitch. I'm really not. So ah you know. Go ahead and use T against us because I know you do. And ah whatever. Just keep in touch with your dad. Don't not keep in touch with him because of me but I know you've done that before, stupid things. He didn't spell your name right and you didn't talk to him for two years. That was kind of juvenile. But Ok, whatever."
My father is physically ill. He has been for a very long time. He doesn't call me. He doesn't call his grandson. He hasn't for over a decade. It's a fact of life. It just is. Many years ago, I accepted the fact that my dad is ill. That his life could have been different. It isn't. I don't want him to get a transplant. He doesn't deserve it. He gave up on his life over a decade, almost two ago. A heart is a sacred thing and should be given to someone that wants to live. Someone that deserves to live. As difficult as this is for me to acknowledge, my father is not that person. On a side note, less than four months ago my mother's sister was taken from this world due to cancer. Her husband has now been diagnosed with cancer. Tragic. They loved life and lived life. They deserve life. So many people do not and yet those are the ones that seem to feel entitled and receive the opportunities. Yes he is my father. Yes he was my dad. I am a taxpayer like you, I can see the big picture. Right or Wrong, I see it. I live it. I have accepted it.
Can I accept to move on? Can I accept that I may not be informed of his health? Can I accept that I may not be informed of his death?
I can only control what I can control and who I am. Sometimes the hardest thing to do...is to walk away. I've walked away before, but love and family and hope bring me back. I don't want to live in the negativity and the darkness and the lies. It is hard to turn your back on family...right now, I stand still and I wonder and I wait. Will fate decide for me?
When I was 19, I went to my aunt's house to celebrate Christmas. My dad stepped out of the room and came back with a check for me for Christmas. He spelled my name wrong. He was still hungover from the night before. He. Spelled. My. Name. Wrong. My dad also told me that as an adult I could choose to have a relationship with him and I knew where to find him.
When I was 22 years old, two years after graduating college, I found myself living with my boyfriend and pregnant. I was disappointed in myself. I was scared. I felt alone. I feared telling my parents, even though I graduated High School at 17 and other than the first summer after college, I never again lived with my parent(s). When I told my dad, he said, "I'm not surprised. What do you expect when you are shacking up with your boyfriend."
Maybe I should rewind...I've posted it before - the year of 1982. Sometimes, I think my mom makes excuses for my dad, his health and that he isn't the father and dad and man he once was. I want to believe that. I want to believe that. I try to keep low expectations to not be disappointed - but the truth is, I expect things from my dad, my father - in sickness - as I did in health. I was disappointed. I continue to be disappointed.
I believe my dad gave up on living when he reached 55 (and even before). He turned 64 this summer. He had outlived his paternal male relatives. He was on borrowed time and wanted to live life to the fullest. Forget to take the routine medication and injections for his diabetes. Eat and live and be merry. Or just eat whatever you want, move from bed to kitchen to couch and succumb to the illness. My dad has too many ailments to list - from diabetes, COPD, heart failure (heart functions at 11% - bypass, stints, catherizations galore), high blood pressure, high cholesterol, etc.
My dad remarried in 1999. I was invited to his wedding, but not included in a father-daughter dance. His wife and I have always had issues (she is a "welfare" recipient - never maintaining a job much longer than 6 months, feeling entitled for everyone to care for her, not being able to budget/finance/see reality but living in the moment of self-gratification). They have little relationship with my son. They rarely if ever call and never ask to speak with my son. Some years, when they have money for stamps - they may send a holiday gift or card. They don't call. We have visited them. The relationship is strained.
On Thanksgiving in 2008, I posted this. The relationship hasn't been the same. I stopped receiving her monthly calls that he was back in the ER and was dying. Sometimes I would get them, more often not. His wife would call my brother and then expect him to call or tell me (he has been "dying" and admitted to the hospital almost monthly for years). I had been deleted from her FB page. As hurt and upset as I was by everything, for my own sanity, I had to remove myself from the drama and the lies. I no longer received email updates and I would sometimes receive them third-handed from family members. My brother and I would share stories based on phone calls we each had had with my dad and/or his wife. My dad was always the most coherent when hospitalized and appropriately medicated. It was always the best time to talk to him. He almost seemed able to communicate and knew what he was saying.
This summer, I was informed that my dad needed a heart transplant (and had to get one before his 65th birthday, the deadline of transplants). Phone calls with his wife were always different. From them moving back to Michigan so she could live with her family while he recovered, to the following month having a transplant in Jacksonville Florida because her daughter got a job and was moving there from Michigan, to the next month when he was leaving Tampa after a doctor appointment to consider a transplant or VAD. I never heard where Tampa came into the picture. I still don't understand. Tampa is 4 hours from where they live. They have no friends or social support in Tampa or even in Florida (with the new exception of Jacksonville). My dad isn't healthy enough to drive himself and she can't legally drive. Why would she pick a hospital 4+ hours away? Why?
I supported her and her decision. I didn't understand it. Maybe she was ready for him to die. I can't be of any social support, neither can my brother - we live across the country. A week later, he was admitted into Tampa General for extensive testing to see if he was a candidate. After almost a week they couldn't get his sugar stabilized, and it was up in the 500 range. My aunt emailed me (and my brother) and said that she had seen him and she felt he was dying. If we wanted to see him alive, we needed to visit and do it soon. She had driven over from Texas to say her goodbye.
Of course I was recovering from my hammer to the face adventure. I hadn't heard anything from my dad or his wife. The email was news to me. I called my brother. He had heard from my dad's wife the night before that they also found a lump in his neck that they were biopsying (which was non-cancerous). We talked about the severity of the situation (having heard the Boy Who Cried Wolf so many times previously) and trying to understand. Having our Aunt there made the situation different - having a neutral non-threatening, non-manipulative voice to discuss his condition. I attempted to talk to hospital staff. Within 30 minutes of receiving the email, my brother and I had booked plane tickets and made arrangements and were going to be in Tampa that evening.
In the morning, we went to the hospital to visit our dad. He had no idea that we were coming. We spent two days at the hospital. We were part of a very difficult family meeting with the Social Worker and RN who informed us that because of lack of social support, transportation and financial issues - a transplant consideration was not possible. We accepted our fate. My brother gave my dad's wife his blessings to find housing in the retirement community they have moved from several times due to financial constraints. We broke the news to my dad that he was not a candidate for a heart transplant or a VAD. My brother and I had time with him, what we anticipated would be our last time with him. The IV he was on, was pumping his heart for him. Slowly, he was dying. His heart would cease. The good news, he was approved for Hospice with his IV and would be discharged later that week.
Without being at the hospital, I wouldn't have known what was going on (like the months my dad has lived without bathing because he battles depression and lack of motivation). His wife sent out mass emails while we were there - I had my aunt forward them. Her email after we returned home in summary was that the hospital and his children left him to die but that she is going to fight for her husband. He needs money and a transplant. Please send money or well wishes if you can't afford to send money. Of course I wasn't a recipient of those emails either.
I was lost. I felt paralyzed. I felt numb. I was there. I was in the hospital. What was going on? What were these emails that I purposely wasn't copied on (or emails for almost two years prior)? I'm a realist. I have become cynical. I'm not the only one. Is this her attempt to relieve guilt? To say she did everything? Or is this her way to raise money to fund her own hopes and dreams?
The next thing I know, Hospice is no longer coming daily, they come once a week and she has enlisted the assistance of a national transplant fund for fundraising. They have been denied a transplant in Jacksonville as well. The latest and last option, a transplant in Orlando. Orlando, 40 minutes from where they live. FORTY. MINUTES.
Sunday I spoke with my dad. He told me he has an appointment at the hospital in Orlando. He has no idea how long he will be there - if he will be admitted. Orlando has his file. He told me that they have received $2000 in donations but at $100 per transport (he's saying 4 a month AFTER the transplant) that the money will have little impact. This is their last chance at a hospital and transplant. Why wasn't Orlando their first option? Why was Tampa that was logistically impossible for them? During the conversation he told me that they were denied for mortgages in the retirement community (they would need two: one for an older trailer/home they will demolish and then one to build the new home on the property) - as he receives Social Security and she receives Disability. Why they need a new home, I don't understand. Why they can't live in the apartment you ask? Because she isn't a senior citizen and without his income of Social Security she couldn't live in the retirement community without his income. She needs to move in while he is alive. She has to. She refuses to talk to me. She hovers in the background on the phone and attempts to answer questions my dad is relaying because he doesn't know or care to know the answers. He does what he is told. He gets up when she tells him to and goes where he is taken.
Today in the mail, my son received a Christmas card. My son. Not my son and I. My son. I had had it. I called my dad again and asked what was going on. That I was hurt. That years ago when he said that I had to accept them as a package or not at all, that I did. That I have been respectful and civil and not received the same. That I am not notified of his health and happenings. That him calling back yesterday to ask for my email address that all of my email addresses have been the same for over seven years was ridiculous. He said he had no idea. He suggested I talk to her. After a good two minutes, she finally got on the phone. She was passive-aggressive.
I thanked her for my son's Christmas card. She told me my card would arrive in a few days. I then inquired that she had sent separate cards. She said she had - first time EVER. I then asked her why she wasn't copying me on emails and notifying me. She told me that she didn't have my email address. I told her that she did and they have been the same for seven years. She told me that I use my son as a pawn. I had no idea what she was talking about. She yelled that I don't allow him to talk to his grandparents. They have never called to talk to him and he has NEVER asked to call them. (They are not active grandparents and as close as he is to my mother - unless she calls him, he doesn't talk on the phone.) This woman then went on to say, "If you didn't know, your dad isn't well." I replied, "Oh really? I didn't know that. Maybe if you told me, I would know." She then started yelling more and I hung up on her.
I started to call my boyfriend back who had called during the conversation and I hung up after two rings. I sat in my basement stairwell and I sobbed. Sobbed uncontrollably. I cursed in my head. And when I collected myself, I dialed my mom. And when she got on the phone, I sobbed uncontrollably again and cursed. And while I sobbed and I cursed, his wife called me back. I let it go to voicemail.
This was the voicemail, "Hey X. Ok since you hung up on me. Uhhh...That's pretty mature. Umm...but besides the point. Do you have any idea what I'm going through? Do you have any idea? I hope you never ever have to find out because I know you don't care about your dad. You basically just kind of wrote him off. That's what you did. You came to Florida. It was a pity fuck trip. And you came there and you basically wrote him off. That's all you did. You never. You don't call your dad. You don't do anything for your dad. You don't even, you your, your mother. Or you could live here in Tallahassee and I'll guarantee that you would never see your dad. You wanna know why I don't keep you in the loop? Because frankly X, I'm sorry, Let me just let it all hang out BABY, don't stop calling your dad. I think you are a BITCH and so do a few other people I know. So whatever HONEY. Just a, your card is in the mail. You are going to get it. I didn't leave you out. I'm not that cruel. I'm not that big of a bitch. I'm really not. So ah you know. Go ahead and use T against us because I know you do. And ah whatever. Just keep in touch with your dad. Don't not keep in touch with him because of me but I know you've done that before, stupid things. He didn't spell your name right and you didn't talk to him for two years. That was kind of juvenile. But Ok, whatever."
My father is physically ill. He has been for a very long time. He doesn't call me. He doesn't call his grandson. He hasn't for over a decade. It's a fact of life. It just is. Many years ago, I accepted the fact that my dad is ill. That his life could have been different. It isn't. I don't want him to get a transplant. He doesn't deserve it. He gave up on his life over a decade, almost two ago. A heart is a sacred thing and should be given to someone that wants to live. Someone that deserves to live. As difficult as this is for me to acknowledge, my father is not that person. On a side note, less than four months ago my mother's sister was taken from this world due to cancer. Her husband has now been diagnosed with cancer. Tragic. They loved life and lived life. They deserve life. So many people do not and yet those are the ones that seem to feel entitled and receive the opportunities. Yes he is my father. Yes he was my dad. I am a taxpayer like you, I can see the big picture. Right or Wrong, I see it. I live it. I have accepted it.
Can I accept to move on? Can I accept that I may not be informed of his health? Can I accept that I may not be informed of his death?
I can only control what I can control and who I am. Sometimes the hardest thing to do...is to walk away. I've walked away before, but love and family and hope bring me back. I don't want to live in the negativity and the darkness and the lies. It is hard to turn your back on family...right now, I stand still and I wonder and I wait. Will fate decide for me?
Monday, December 6, 2010
Saturday Shaving - A First
T turned 13 in early Spring. Thirteen. In several months, he will be Fourteen. Yes, I know how to count and I know you do too. Bear with me, I'm trying to grasp the magnitude that my son is not just entering the phase of teenage years and leaving pre-adolescence behind. He will officially have survived his first teenage year. Anyway, I'm jumping the gun.
A sore subject for my son, his facial hair. He has had visible facial hair since he was approximately nine years old. So not cool for a nine year old. Unfortunately, T's father is a direct ancestor of a grizzly bear or Cro-Magnon Man. Truth be told, I'm probably not too far removed from my ancestors either.
A sore subject for my son, his facial hair. He has had visible facial hair since he was approximately nine years old. So not cool for a nine year old. Unfortunately, T's father is a direct ancestor of a grizzly bear or Cro-Magnon Man. Truth be told, I'm probably not too far removed from my ancestors either. For T's birthday I asked if he wanted a razor. He asked, "Do I need one?"
Saturday, T and I purchased his first razor. I actually didn't anticipate that he was going to want to use it immediately. I was wrong. So we had to run out to another store to pick up some shaving cream.
T picked out shaving cream and after shave. We headed home for his first shaving adventure. He lathered his upper lip with shaving cream. His hand unsteadily held the razor as he looked in the mirror getting ready to make his first shaving draw. Nervously, he made his first cut and then again and again. I took several pictures and offered advice of sticking his tongue into his upper lip to tighten the skin. And then...he nicked himself. Blood. Blood. More Blood.
Of course, it was my fault. I told him he didn't have to use more shaving cream if his face was still wet. He survived and actually didn't hold a grudge either.
On the drive to dinner, T reminisced on his shaving experience. He asked if he would now have to shave more than before. More than none? Yes, he will. A few hours later, T stated he wanted to shave again.
I wonder how long it will take for the initial excitement to wear off. I know I hate shaving.
Is the love-hate relationship of shaving different for men/boys and women/girls?
Lake Effect & Blowers Revisited
Sometimes, thinks seem to resurface as if time stands still. When it seems like time flies in the blink of an eye, I confirm why I enjoy blogging...because I can go back and read things I wrote and it is as if it were today. Somethings just don't change.
Living in West Michigan, I am blessed to live near the lake. For those of you that don't know, that's means I have the benefit of "Lake Effect". So in the summer, it is wonderful to be near Lake Michigan and yet in the winter, that means that the bi-polar Lake Effect is in full force and dumps some nasty snow in large quantities to punish those that enjoy the water.
I am the not so proud owner of two identical snow blowers with two completely different functioning issues. I continue to believe that my snow blowers are male, as posted here in 2008. In 2009 I posted about karma and snow and my issues with my snow blowers/throwers. This year I was able to get both up and running before the first snow fall.
Since yesterday, I have cleared the driveway FOUR TIMES. FOUR. TIMES. Granted, I had to switch blowers since the one decided that after one time, it needed to take a hiatus. I still smell like gasoline after I clear the driveway. The blower that decides to work doesn't shoot both directions and is temperamental and occasionally stalls.
I'm considering purchasing a new snow blower in the hopes that it will maintenance and hassle free; however, my step-dad gave me both as gifts and I don't want to offend him by replacing the two I have. I know that I am 36 years old, but sometimes convenience isn't worth the disappointment of a parent or the impending lecture that new isn't always better!
So for Christmas, I'm asking that "Lake Effect" share the love and snow with inland areas that have been less fortunate! Don't tell me I'm not greedy or bah humbug. Tis the season and I'm all about sharing!
Living in West Michigan, I am blessed to live near the lake. For those of you that don't know, that's means I have the benefit of "Lake Effect". So in the summer, it is wonderful to be near Lake Michigan and yet in the winter, that means that the bi-polar Lake Effect is in full force and dumps some nasty snow in large quantities to punish those that enjoy the water.
I am the not so proud owner of two identical snow blowers with two completely different functioning issues. I continue to believe that my snow blowers are male, as posted here in 2008. In 2009 I posted about karma and snow and my issues with my snow blowers/throwers. This year I was able to get both up and running before the first snow fall.
Since yesterday, I have cleared the driveway FOUR TIMES. FOUR. TIMES. Granted, I had to switch blowers since the one decided that after one time, it needed to take a hiatus. I still smell like gasoline after I clear the driveway. The blower that decides to work doesn't shoot both directions and is temperamental and occasionally stalls.
I'm considering purchasing a new snow blower in the hopes that it will maintenance and hassle free; however, my step-dad gave me both as gifts and I don't want to offend him by replacing the two I have. I know that I am 36 years old, but sometimes convenience isn't worth the disappointment of a parent or the impending lecture that new isn't always better!
So for Christmas, I'm asking that "Lake Effect" share the love and snow with inland areas that have been less fortunate! Don't tell me I'm not greedy or bah humbug. Tis the season and I'm all about sharing!
Monday Moving Muse
I haven't blogged about movies on a Monday since April 2008! Lately I haven't had much luck in movies, well lately meaning the greater part of the past two years. Saturday T and I went and saw Unstoppable at the theater and I found myself on the edge of my seat. Of course, I am a huge fan of movies based on actual events. T really enjoyed the movie as well and was googling to find out the actual details of the runaway train 777, with little success.
I am really hoping that my luck in movies has changed. Tonight I picked up Going the Distance, Knight and Day, and Eat, Pray, Love. I wanted to see all three movies at the theater but never got around to it.
If nothing else, maybe I can manage to stay awake and actually watch all three movies from beginning to end without falling asleep or turning it off! Baby steps...
I am really hoping that my luck in movies has changed. Tonight I picked up Going the Distance, Knight and Day, and Eat, Pray, Love. I wanted to see all three movies at the theater but never got around to it.
If nothing else, maybe I can manage to stay awake and actually watch all three movies from beginning to end without falling asleep or turning it off! Baby steps...
Date Night 2010
T and I had our annual "Date Night" this past Friday. Here was our date night in 2009. I picked up T from practice and we headed to grab dinner at a nearby restaurant. Dinner was the best we have had at that restaurant, EVER.
We then went to our painting location and met up with my girlfriend and her two kids so T could make my mom her Christmas gift. I was seriously like a kid in a candy shop. I was so excited by the latest trend of finger and thumbprint art and how I wanted to paint everything I saw, although completely hindered by a lack of artistic ability (as previously disclosed here.). I couldn't decide so I went with my free mug and another toothbrush holder for the bathroom. Of course I was running through every shower curtain I own (admitted obsession here) and wondered what theme and colors would work best.
I finally opted to paint thumbprint frogs, because I actually have frogs in my bathroom. Although not so obnoxious that they aren't all that obvious. I painted frogs of colors that would pull out colors in some of my shower curtains. I have to admit that I don't think the project was an epic fail, but definitely not as cute as I wished it would be. I'll find out the real truth, Friday.
T and I finished the night by returning back to the restaurant for dessert. I had the most fabulous peanut butter pie. So delish...the end to a fantastic date night!
We then went to our painting location and met up with my girlfriend and her two kids so T could make my mom her Christmas gift. I was seriously like a kid in a candy shop. I was so excited by the latest trend of finger and thumbprint art and how I wanted to paint everything I saw, although completely hindered by a lack of artistic ability (as previously disclosed here.). I couldn't decide so I went with my free mug and another toothbrush holder for the bathroom. Of course I was running through every shower curtain I own (admitted obsession here) and wondered what theme and colors would work best.
I finally opted to paint thumbprint frogs, because I actually have frogs in my bathroom. Although not so obnoxious that they aren't all that obvious. I painted frogs of colors that would pull out colors in some of my shower curtains. I have to admit that I don't think the project was an epic fail, but definitely not as cute as I wished it would be. I'll find out the real truth, Friday.
T and I finished the night by returning back to the restaurant for dessert. I had the most fabulous peanut butter pie. So delish...the end to a fantastic date night!
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