Wednesday, January 30, 2008

random question

I wonder if, when I die, I can
 ask God if  I can have back all the hours I've spent watching "American Idol"?

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Nascar...Porch style

Hi, all...
we went to New Orleans for a cheer leading convention this weekend
lots of screaming girls with ribbons
the best part was visiting with my BIL and SIL  Mitch and Cheryl.
They should run a bed and breakfast
they are the best hosts.
we spent the night

We're lounging around in our pj's talking
we get a call from Mariah
"You remember Caitlin has got to be here at 3 to go to the Foofighters concert"
No, I didn't remember...
It's 12:00
It's a 3hour drive for normal people.
Remember my Interstate phobia?
Tom and I drive 55
we stop every 20 minutes for me to pee ,
 for him to smoke
and for Caitlin to dither about hyper actively...
we take unknown side roads
we stop to examine interesting roadkill
we are not a fast traveling bunch.
It also takes at least an hour to say goodbye to anyone in our family.
we all have to hug
everyone thinks of something they just have to tell you right now even though you have been there for days
no one EVER knows where their stuff is
People have to show you something in the attic..."well, I know I had it here somewhere, let's look in that other box"
I hugged Mitch while he was in the tree cutting grapefruit for me to take home,,,
("just one more, this is a good one")
pulled Tom by the arm
and threw Caitlin's suitcase in the back
we're still in our pajamas
I took two Valium
wrapped my head up in my sweat shirt
and told Tom to let 'er rip!
Every now and then I peeked out with one eye to ask, "I'm not making you nervous , am I ?"
We made it by 3!
Watch those side roads,

Thursday, January 17, 2008


I pretty much got over that funk I was in a while back.

I started Yoga

working out at the gym

volunteering with families in crisis

going to a community church group

and I am better.

I still am scared of Interstates, though.


all this got me thinking

I remember almost nothing from my childhood....


Maybe I need therapy.

Then my mom had a fall.

She wasn't hurt badly, thank God

but she had to stay with me for 4 days

during which time I actually jumped up and down in frustration 3 times!

So I went to a therapist

(right after I took Mom home)

They asked a lotof questions

was I suicidal?


was I homicidal?


Did I ever hurt myself?


Did I ever cut myself?


Again, pointedly...Was I SURE I nver cut myself?


The therapist gave an extrememly significant glare at my leg.

Sure enough, there was blood soaking my jeans, down into my shoe....

I had a little cut shaving and thought it had quit bleeding.....

only me....

I swear, I'm just having a little problem dealing with an aging parent.......

Sunday, January 6, 2008

War Story

A bright blue sky over the grave yard.
Taps is being played.
A young man lies in a flag draped coffin.
The honor guard folds it and presents it to his young widow.
her belly swollen with a child
that will only know his dad in pictures.
She knocks the flag to the ground
"I don't' want it! I don't' want it I don't want it"she screams,
the tantrum of a child
reflecting the grief of a woman.

The Lottery

Tom always likes to tell people he won the lottery.
He can still tell you his lucky number
. It was 295.
Those of you who are old enough to remember Viet Nam know what he means.
For the rest of you...
 they drew the birth dates of every young man who was 18.
365 dates
A low number meant you were drafted.
The higher the number, the better your chances.
Tom watched it tensely on tv with his mom.
"I don't' care what number you get, you're not going,"she exclaimed, "I have already sent two sons to this war and one came home shot."
Tom looked at her through his long blonde hair"well, Mom, should I go to Canada?"
"no"she vowed"I'll write you a note".
Can you see my 18 year old hippie future husband coming up to the draft board with a note in his hand...
"Please excuse my son from this war."?

A boy Becomes a Man

Cas and I talk a lot.
We always have been philosophers, since he was a scrawny nine year old.
He has been well and lovingly brought up by both the Lagoonatic joyful indulgence form of child-rearing and by his equally loving but (luckily) stricter grandma.
His mom, a lively, funny, intelligent woman, has struggled with substance abuse since before his birth, so has never been able to have custody of him.
His dad died shortly after he was born from drug-induced hepatitis C.
I settled down beside him at New Year's
"so", I said, "what are you gonna do to celebrate your 18th birthday ?"
"oh, I'm getting a tattoo!"
"Really? What will it say?"

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

2008 here i come

This whole gang spent the night at Stacey and Craig's house in Mississippi
Brave souls

Stacey and I met at a New Year's Eve Party, the night we rung in 1981.

This is Molly, who is 20, second in line after Mariah of the next generation of Lagoonatics.

I'm loving the laughter of Leah, 16 and my Caitlin
I just wish to point out that the pictures that look as though we are all suffering from a seizure disorder are actually us dancing
 in the morning

at breakfast

 stone cold sober as the proverbial judge
so we have no excuse.

The one in which I look like I am delivering a sermon is me giving the New Year's toast...

With the magic math of friendship
Joy shared is doubled
Sorrow shared is halved.

Happy New Year,