I’d anticipated the stork’s delivery 2 weeks prior…but alas…the little prince kinda liked his roost & was reluctant to abandon it…at all costs.  After several discussions with the Doc, the date of August 3rd was set.  But due to the full moon & since my delivery wasn’t exactly “medically necessary”, we got the old brush-off.

It wasn’t until late that evening I was called by an apologetic Dr. Grey, who promised I’d be able to gaze into a most heavenly set of eyes on Sunday, August 4th 2002.

Jake & I had already developed a rapport with each other the whole time he was cooking.  I would talk to him & he would resoundingly kick in response.  When I laughed, he would twitch as though he was chuckling right alongside his Mum.

It would be the last of my children.  Loved no more, loved no less.  But had his Mother’s sense of humor, sense of style and keen sense of impeccable timing (not to mention the incredible good looks).

And while his turning 7 makes me swell with pride…all the things he’s been able to accomplish in his short stint on the 3rd rock from the sun….its these same accomplishments that take him just a teensy step further away from being the baby he once was….totally dependent on Mom.  But in those same eyes that I gazed into on that sultry afternoon 7 years ago….I can see the amazing potential and brilliancy that will one day take him far beyond his Mother’s grasp.

Time and tide wait for no man or Mom for that matter.  Its bittersweet watching him grow and everyday has been a pleasure and a joy-ride.

Thank you, my Jake for all the laughs, for all the hugs, for all the kisses, for all the fun.  No matter how old you get…you’ll always be my baby boy…my Boo-Boo-Kitty.

Happy 7th Birthday Boo-Boo.

Eternally grateful and with undying love and support,
Mommy

I’ve come to a conclusion…as I approach what will be my 37th trip ’round the big old yellow ball in the sky…that every day is going to be SOMETHING.  Who knows?  Dunno.  But I will come up with an idea…let me keep writing.

There is method to my madness.  (Note to Peanut Gallery:  HUSH!  You know who you are)

Today I decided that it was Cuban Dinner Saturday.  So I did what I think I do best.  (Note to Kristin:  No…not THAT!)  I cook.  And any man who can attest to being able to hold my fancy for long, hasn’t remained thin whilst in said company.

So yes…Cuban Dinner Saturday.  Replete with picadillO (Carlos likes to make sure I am grammatically correct in my latin diction), congris, croquetas de jamon, yuca, plantanitos, cuban crackers y ensalada.  (And because for some strange reason…they, meaning most Cubans I’ve known, use correct Cuban terminology on everything…except crackers.  Why?  Dunno.)  We even had little plantain chips.  My Abuela would be very proud.

And probably happy cause she just got home from a cruise with my Abuelo, Tia Julie, Tio Juan, Pop & Mom.  So she wouldn’t have to cook.    I love my Abuela.

Dessert was Banana Creme Pie, courtesy of Marie Callendars (I miss living on the West Coast sometimes….I said some.)

Like I said…this coming November 25th will officially mark my 37th trip.  They seem to get closer & closer to one another each year.  Why is that?  Dunno.

And I ask, why is all the rum gone?  Because we indeed have lack of rum in said abode…and I just thought of the conversation I was having with Dale yesterday.  Why am I thinking of it today?  Dunno.  (Besides…I love it when Jack Sparrow says it.  ::SIGH::  Johnny Depp.  Who woulda thunk from 21 Jump Street to a Pirate.  Weird how the gears in life work out sometimes, right?)

I’m telling you…there IS method to my madness.  Yes, there is Kris…hush already.  Before I have to duct-tape you.  And I’m a Southerner so you KNOW its in my tool box.  And glove compartment.  And kitchen junk drawer.  And on my dresser.  And in the laundry room.  Yeah…I think that’s about it.

Its been an arduous year in the life of Me.  6 bouts of pneumonia, 2 surgical procedures, 4 hospital vacations, 10 hospital visits, probably about 100 meds filled and now 1 nasty case of bronchitis.  Did I mention the 2 near brushes with death?

Yeah…I’m a maverick.  And no, I’m not stealing it from the McCain ‘09 Campaign.  Just read along more & learn.

I’ve always lived each day to the satisfaction of someone else.  My mother.  My brother.  My sister.  My Dad.  My Pop.  The kids.  The ex.  Old bosses.  The mechanic.  Former In-Laws.  Friends.  Bill collectors.  You follow the wash.

Being the eldest in my household, and being the daughter of my parents…there came a certain level of responsibility & duty.  And while I shirked my share of it from time to time…I’ve always come back to toe the line.  And somewhere along the way….I lost that joie de vivre that made me unmistakably me.

And with all I’ve endured this year….I miss me.  And as Cache Seel just so eloquently put it, “Life sucks.  But the alternative is unacceptable”.  (Why yes, my dear Discovery Channel viewer friend, I AM watching Deadliest Catch right now, thanks for asking!)

So here I am….full circle.  Back to my original thought and main post (Yes…I have gone off on a tangent…no, don’t look at me like that).  I’m trying to make everyday SOMETHING.  Be it a meal.  A way to clean the house.  A music groove.  A movie marathon.  A channel watching.  Weather chasing.  Read a Blue Book.  An indoor picnic.  Whatever.

And since I’m still in a cooking mood…tomorrow is SOUTHERN FISH-FRY SUNDAY.  Yes…I realize I’ve done lots of fried shit this weekend.  I also drank Pabst reminiscing about my Dad, and stealing beers from him & my Grandpa & Uncle’s while they didn’t know I was doing it.  Did I mention I was like 4?  Yeah…I was cool even back then.  And I’m back on the yoga in the morning.  I promise. With my mother coming up here in a few weeks…I don’t need no shit about the size of my ass when she first walks through the door.  I still know who to be afraid of in this world.  And her initals are:  ETM (remember…she did marry Pop…and now she’s a Martinez)

I guess I’m sitting here cracking jokes & shit…but still trying to tell you dear reader, to make everyday memorable.

Even if it is just a bit silly to those around you, make everyday count.

OK, so things here in the hacienda aren’t back to the status quo.  DC is still unemployed (and I’m terrified about what will happen if he doesn’t procure employment & October gets here…that money runs out), and I’m waiting to hear back on my financial aid.  I filed about 5 days late because I was in the hospital…again.  And when I was sent my verification packet, I did all that & sent it in within the allotted time.

Having checked on my FA every day since about mid-June, I’ve got nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch.

Now…I’m panicking.  Fall ‘09 semester is rapidly approaching and I’ve got nothing to pay my classes with.  And the fact that I had to drop all my courses this past Spring, they’re being assholes.  They don’t know IF they’ll put a hold on my classes (which means I may lose cause this campus is now getting crowded) and IF they approve my FA, I’m going to have to pay out of pocket for the Spring & wait for a reimbursement once all the Fall grades post.

It doesn’t matter that I was on the Dean’s List, doesn’t matter that I was recommended for the honors program.  They’re just pissed that I dropped in Spring & they don’t care that I almost took the “long dirt nap”……twice.

Considerate of them to be so understanding, huh?

On the medical front, my MD is battling my health insurance for everything.  They don’t want to cover my reduction, they don’t want to cover a new MRI of my lower back, they didn’t cover my last visit to the PT (which I have to go see because its part of the recommendation process).

I will applaud myself because I haven’t been back in the hospital since May.  Which is wonderful.  Sad that I’m excited over that.

Otherwise, kids are back in school & loving it.  And my parents will be here sometime in August (which I am SERIOUSLY dreading).

That’s the update & I am out of here.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

UPDATE: Just received word from my FA counselor that they’re going to hold my classes & I should report to school on August 17th!!  AND the insurance thing is being looked into by the HR contact for Union Pacific.  WOOHOO!!  Maybe things ARE looking up!!

Since I don’t want to post about all the crappity-crap-crap going on in my life any longer (because it seems the more I bitch about it, the more it seems to pile up…seriously), I’m going to do one of them answer quiz things you find all over Facebook.

Yeah…I know….boring.  But the alternative is even worse.  So here we go.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

1.)  Seven states you’ve been to?
FL, CA, NV, NC, AZ, TX, LA

2.)  Six things you’ve done today.
put crap in the dryer, put in a load of laundry, got Jake dressed, brushed Lea’s hair, brushed Jake’s hair, logged into Facebook

3.)  Five favorite things in no order
my friends, my kids, history, facebook, my cell phone

4.)  Four people you last talked to
Mom, Pop, Bubba, DC

5.)  Three wishes?
for DC to find a good job, my FA to get approved TOTALLY, to feel better mentally

6.)  Two things you want to be when you grow up?
history professor, egyptian paleoanthropologist/archaeologist

7.)  Has anyone ever tried to ruin a relationship you were in?
Yes

8.)  This survey gets a little personal .. can you handle it?
Sure

9.)  When were you last picked up from the ground?
It has to be a while now.  I think it was when I fell on the floor in the garage.

10.)  When did you last go in a car with a boy/girl?
Yesterday.  Dale drove me to my PT appointment.

11.)  When were you on the phone last and with who?
The other day & it was with both my mom & pop

12.)  What are you excited for?
Well, I was excited for the upcoming school semester…but FA is being stupid.

13.)  Are you scared to fall in love?
Nope.

14.)  How fast does your mood change?
Too quickly.

15.)  I bet you miss someone today?
I do.

16.)  Can you honestly say you’re okay right now?
If by OK you mean, being broke, having only 1 car that works currently, not knowing when my FA will get approved, wondering how much longer it’ll be before DC finds a new job…then yes, I’m OK.

17.)  What were you doing at 4am?
I think I got up to get a drink.

18.)  Where do you live?
Raleigh, NC.

19.)  What do you drive?
A 2000 Nissan Quest

20.)  Are you a jealous person?
Nope.  I feel you can do what you want.  Its your life & you’ll have to live with the repercussions of your actions.

21.)  What are you listening to?
The ending credit music to Harry Potter.

22.)  Would you go in public looking like you do right now?
Yeah, but I’m pretty sure I’d get arrested, since I don’t have any pants on.

23.)  Is there someone in your life that can always make you smile?
My kids.

24.)  What’s something you really want right now?
More than I want to go back to school, I want DC to get a job.  I feel better when he feels better.  And right now we’re both caught in a vicious cycle of making the other feel worse.

25.)  Are you slowly drifting away from someone?
Yes & no.

26.)  Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?
Depends on my mood.

27.)  When is the last time you saw your sister(s)?
Like 5 years now?  We don’t see one another because she lives in Miami.  But she’s also dating an incredible butthead, so even if I WERE in Miami, I wouldn’t see her.

28.)  Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?
Oh yeah!  Famous:  Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio.  Non-famous:  Todd, my niece Amber & my great-nephew Julian.

29.)  Where did you get the shirt you’re wearing right now?
Old Navy.  That’s where I get most of the shit I wear.

30.)  What are you doing this week?
Being depressed, playing Sims, trying to clean the house, go bitch to Sprint

31.)  Do you put ketchup on top of your french fries or on the side?
On the side.

32.)  How many 20 dollar bills do you have on you right now?
None.

33.)  How is your relationship with your mother?
Dysfunctional is a good term for our relationship.  Tense is another good way to describe our relationship.

34.)  Does anybody hate you?
Not that I know of.

35.)  Ever been out past your curfew?
I was known to ALWAYS bust my curfew. 

36.)  Anyone of the opposite sex been on your mind lately?
Yep.  But not in that sex/love way.  Cause I’ve been thinking about my Bubba

37.)  Are you nice to everyone?
I try to be.

38.)  Do you like funny people or serious people?
Both.

39.)  What is your biggest regret?
I’m going to plead the 5th on this one.

40.)  Would you ever date someone who was gorgeous but they had a conceited attitude?
Nope.

41.)  Expecting something to change in the next month?
I’m hoping something will change, but I’m not holding my breath.

42.)  Yesterday night, what did you do?
Pretty much cried myself to sleep.

43.)  What is your favorite color?
Black…it matches my mood.

44.)  If you were kicked out of your current residence whom would you call?
My mother….unfortunately.

Everything in life is cyclical.  Its a proven fact.  Climate change, religion, fashion, etc.

So here I sit.  On the eve of my children’s first “OFFICIAL”  concert, it takes me back to my old high school days.  Billy Idol, Whitesnake, Bad Company, Right Said Fred (yes…I actually went to that one, I am ashamed to say…and some of my Face Booking friends did too…LOL!), The Monkees, Weird Al Yankovic, Wham! (another of those WTF moments now that I’m older…), Chicago & Zeppelin (which I don’t actually remember, since I was an infant at the time…proof positive that my mother & father are both morons) & not to mention countless others that have come between infancy & now.

And tomorrow the kids will be introduced to something far cooler than Wham!;  That was my first REAL concert I did, that I really, really, REALLY wanted to go to & desperately tried to win tickets from Y-100 for days on end…only to find out that my mother got the tickets for us to go with Dale (not DC, but my other Dale friend) at Bobby Maduro Stadium.

While I was as happy as a june-bug to see Katrina & The Waves along with Wham!, I’ll admit…I’m a far cooler Mom than my own mother (and there are countless of you out there who can attest to this theory!)

Living in Raleigh not only gave us the opportunity to live in one of the most historic parts of the United States (13 colonies ROCK!), its greatly improved the children’s educations (and lets face it…you can get a better education reading billboards along the interstate than you can in most Southern California school systems), it will help with their future schooling (as we have some of the BEST colleges all conveniently located within like, 30 minutes of one another!), they also offer a wicked, FREE concert series in the summer down at Moore Square Park.

Now I know that there will be like TONS of people there & its supposed to be about a million degrees, but that will not deter me on my quest to educate my children in the School of Rock-n-Roll.  (See…I’m a COOL MOM)

While they will be introduced to some local bands & such, which is always a good thing because EVERYONE should have a diversified musical profile, the headliner is none other than Joan Jett & The Blackhearts.  Yes, they will be rocking out to “I Love Rock N’ Roll”,  “Crimson and Clover”, “I Hate Myself for Loving You” & “Bad Reputation”, just to name a few.  The kids have been rocking out to “Bad Reputation” since its on Rock Band & cannot WAIT to experience it all LIVE & IN PERSON.

It’s kinda cool, watching my progeny follow in my footsteps.  And tomorrow, they will come out tired, sunburned & hopefully extremely satisfied.

LONG LIVE ROCK-N-ROLL!!

Yes, I have great lookin chillins (that’s what they’re called here in the South).  But that’s not the reason for this post.

All of my children attend year-round schools (which are AWESOME) and they are currently tracked out until July 7th.  Its nice, they get 9 weeks of school then a 3 week or 4 week vacay (it alternates).

So since we’ve got 4 of the kids home 24/7, there are only so many sessions of Rock Band, Zelda, Mario Party, Sims Racing, Ghostbusters, Call of Duty 3, SimAnimals & the like we can take in this household.  There is only 1 family TV and they’ve got the Wii hooked up to it.  And NO ONE watches my TV (yes…I’m stingy with my toys…I don’t share well.  Oh & I just got Obscure: The Aftermath & if anyone knows how to get out of the frat house…I’d appreciate a tip or two.  Thanks.)

Anywho…the point of this post.  Those two you see to the left of this post kept pestering me & DC wondering what a blog is, what purpose does it serve & can they have one.

So not wanting to be the uncool parents, we relented and gave them each their own blog.

Claudia, the one who looks a hell-a-lot like me & my sister can be found at:  Claudia’s Thoughts.  She’s very handy with writing, I know she has several of those spiral notebooks filled with stories, poems & SONGS.  Yep, my 13 year old progeny writes songs.  But check her’s out.  Right now its a little “Pepto” for my taste…but there are design changes in the future.  It’ll be cute.

Gabe, the 4.5lb kid who has a question for every answer we give also had to have his own blog & you can find him at: Video Game Inc.  Which knowing my son, is very apropos.  If they could mainline Zelda, my son would be more of a junkie than he already is.  Stop by and see his stuff.  I dig the original Mario theme, cause I learned to kick ASS on that game back in the day. 

Mostly, they just wanted an outlet, to vent, chat, question, etc.  And don’t we all?  I love the idea of blogs and have since DC turned me on to them eons ago.  (Sometimes I write some pretty funny stuff…other times…not so much).  But stop by, let them know you were there.  They’ll appreciate it.

And I’ll appreciate the break from the Wii.  It’ll give me a chance to play a game or two. 

Two birds, one stone.  This is me thinking.  Scary, huh?

By now you, dear reader, know that I have a slew of children.  Last count was 5.  This number may dwindle, rest assured. But with this bevy of progeny, comes the usual ups & downs of child-rearing.  At least that’s what I’m told.

I’m not sure either the 21 year old or her 13 year old counterpart will live to see another birthday, let alone another sunrise.

I’m dead-ass serious.

As far as the 21 year old goes…there isn’t much Momma can do any longer for her, as she’s of legal drinking & gambling age (the proof is in the pics at her 21st birthday bash where her birth mom took her to Vegas.  Screams CLASSY, huh?)  Anywho…I digress.  This child of mine I have begged & plead with for the past FOUR FUCKING YEARS to get her ass into college or some trade school, so that she can make something of her life other than just another ELA (that’s East Los Angeles…for those not in the know) loser.

Yes, I called my kid a loser.  Get over it & continue reading.

Anyway…the male parental unit of all 5 spawn comes-a-callin tonight looking for last years & this years tax returns because (drum roll please…..) THE PRINCESS NOW WANTS TO GO TO SCHOOL.  And I’ve got to get off my sick ass to locate last years 1040 (I have it on my laptop, but don’t have the 2007 TaxCut program to open it with) and make sure to include this years 1040 so Her Royal Fucking Highness can go to school…NOW.

Not when it was more convenient for everyone else, but now that it fits in HER GD schedule, we all need to step lively & move our collective asses and get her the proper paperwork…OR ELSE.

I’d LOVE to know what her idea of an “OR ELSE” would be.  Really.  Cause my version of an “OR ELSE” involves some buckshot & a long ass trip out into The Everglades.

You know, there is a Federally protected animal preserve inside The Everglades named after my grandad.  There are PLENTY of great “dumping” spots. 

So here I am, trying to locate TaxCut 2007 so the Princess can FINALLY get her ass in school.  It only took me 4 fucking years of trying.

Color me oh so fucking happy.  (I think that color is black.)

Lest we forget the OTHER idiot child that sprung from the loins of the idiot ex, I absolutely loathe my 13 year old.  And I fully blame the 21 year old for it.

Since about the age of 13, the 21 year old started acting like her shit don’t stink and the world SHOULD revolve around her.  (She’s had a terrible time coming to grips with that one STILL).  At 15 she got worse.  At 17 worse still and so on & so forth.

I think I’ve paid my dues when it comes to hellacious teenagers.  Really.  Ask anyone.  I’ve put in the time & the effort.  I even put my life on the line about 3 years ago, when my beloved child gave me my very first stroke.

Good times…good times.

Anyway, back to what I was saying…I’ve paid my dues.  I lived through my mother’s curse.  You know the one.  “One day you will have a child & it will be JUST LIKE YOU!!”

OK, so I didn’t give birth to her, but I went through all the shit like I HAD given birth to her.  So I’m thinking I don’t have to put up with this curse shit anymore.

Seriously.

I’m about 4 nanoseconds from splitting the 13 year old’s head in two.  To use teen speak, “Fo reals”.

If I tell you that you’re grounded from watching TV…would you blindly ignore my punishment & watch it just for the sake of pissing me off?

What if I then grounded you to your room so you can’t POSSIBLY watch TV, but then you watch it on the computer in the room instead?

What about asking you to do the simplest of chores in the house, load & unload the dishwasher.  And yet, every time I want to drink out of my favorite tiki glass, its either in the cesspool of crap soaking in the sink, or unwashed in the dishwasher?

How about making your bed & keeping your room relatively clean.  I’m not asking for the white glove clean, but somewhere between quasi-livable and semi-clean.  How about just plain non-nasty?  I have 2 boys who have a vivarium (both water & land tank) in their room & most days…its just a smidge dirty.  The girls room?

Jesus AND Jimmy Hoffa could be in there & no one would know due to the filth.  Yep…I’m that serious.

I’d love nothing more than to have someone kidnap the elder 2 and take them to a nunnery in…oh, say…Switzerland.  I think I can still salvage the younger 3.

Possibly.

But with all that has transpired today, I can seriously see justifying the devouring of a cub.

I was brought up with the “spare the rod, spoil the child” and the “children should be seen & not heard” philosophies.  Isn’t there one that says “teenagers should be shot full of thorazine until they reach adulthood & then swiftly placed on the outside doorstep, house locks changed (of course)“.

You know what I would love?  Andre Linoge.  You know…the evil guy from Stephen King’s Storm of the Century mini-series.  He comes to Little Tall Island and asks them for something & they have to give it or he’ll kill them all off just like he did the Colonists from Roanoke (I personally love that part of the story…gives the Lost Colony a superbly sinister ending).

Yeah, I’d love Andre Linoge to come here & make my evil children jump off a cliff, hell…pitch them into a volcano for all I care.  (Shameless plug for Volcanic Sacrifices…yeah, I know).

In reality, I’m at my wits end with both elder girls.  I’ve got a little more patience for the boys & for Lea, that kid knows how to take a punishment & deal with it.  Which is evidently something I wasn’t & haven’t been able to instill in her elder sisters.

Oh well…tomorrow is another day…and I’m sure another opportunity for either one of the monstrous duo to screw up my life even further.  Oh happy day.

Who ever coined the phrase that “Children are a blessing & a joy” should be shot.

-Crazy lady out.

First off, I’d like to thank my Mom.

Yeah…I trash talk her.  But she’s my mom…I’m allowed.  Yeah…she pretty much fucked up a lot of my childhood, but she did the best she could, given the situations we were in.  And all in all…she didn’t have to have me, but she did.  And man, is the world a worse place for it.

But I’m here.  And its because of her.  So, for all my bitchin’, moanin’, groanin’ & complainin’……Thanks Mom.

You DO rock…even if I don’t tell you so.

As for my Mother’s Day…we took a trip…to the OBX.  And for those of you NOT in the “know”…that’s the North Carolina Outer Banks.  Home to the most pirate ship wrecks in the world.  Pretty fricken cool.  Its also home to the first manned airflight thanks to the Wright Brothers.

Thanks to my kids, for allowing me the opportunity to celebrate today.  My sister is jealous.  LOL!!  Not much to be jealous about….lack of sleep, lack of funds, the patrolling, the disciplining, the constant worry….its no glamour job, but its mine.  And that’s OK.

Thanks to my DC for making this weekend…not as cool as the infamous “Neverending Frisco Trip”, but it was still fun as all hell.

I am writing to you today from Room Observation 2-11.  The phone number here is 919-350-3751, if you have the inkling to talk to a looney.

Reason for this new visit to the hospital….well, I kinda think I missed the incredible moving bed.  (In reality, I hate this fucking bed.  It moves to help “those that cannot move on their own” from developing bedsores.)  I, of course, CAN move on my own and have managed to rearrange my room & entertain my own personal hospital staff that consists of 3 nurses, 3 pulmonary specialists, 1 respiratory therapist & some poor schmuck who brings me my food.

I’m quickly becoming sick of hospital food and think that may be the way to lose weight FAST.    Since I can’t workout in that old “Kate & me workout days” way back when, because since then I’ve managed to rupture a disk or two and I have the thyroid of a dead person, I’ve packed on the pounds even when I don’t eat.  I swear, fat flocks to me like sheep to Bo Peep.  But she lost her sheep, didn’t she?  Bad analogy.  But you get the jist.

For those of you that have never had the opportunity to have a blood gas test done…AVOID IT AT ALL COST, unless of course, you love pain.  Then I HIGHLY recommend it.  They get to draw blood from an ARTERY.  Which is TONS of fun if you happen to be the Marquis de Sade.  Otherwise, it hurts like the bejesus.  Then to top that off by having just your regular old run of the mill blood test done, ON THE SAME ARM within a span of, oh…say 5 minutes.  They payoffs are GREAT.

They’d better be giving me fabulous pain pills for this shit or I’m going to rip out someone’s jugular.

I have removed myself from the moving bed because I was getting sea-sick.  Now where was I?  Oh yeah….jugulars & shit.

Frankly, they don’t have the slightest clue as to what’s wrong with me.  I mean, I know what’s wrong with me…but that has to do with growing up with my mother as my sole parental unit & that’s a psych case I just don’t feel like delving into right now.  (Sorry Mom…but you did suck.)

They know I have asthma (as does 1/2 the freaking world by now since all air quality sucks in some form or another), they know I have OCD (that one is to blame SOLELY on Mom), I have Migraines (again Mom, but that’s genetics), I have TIA’s associated with said Migraines (not Mom entirely to blame, but hell…lets blame her anyway), I have reflux (which I can blame on my children, because before them…I never had that.  Ever.  So its their fault.)  But it is getting better since they removed my gallbladder on St. Patty’s Day when I should have been getting schnockered, and according to the Blood Gas Doctor guy, my blood is too acidic.  Or not acidic enough….I don’t know how to read the monitor, although he was very nice in showing me all my numbers & shit.  I do know that my O2 levels are spot on.

You know, I really miss the days of being young & thinking I was invincible.  And getting sick meant getting wasted on bad tequila (Kate…that was JUST for you!).  That once upon a time I was thin, I was cute, I was irresistible & I was funny as hell.  Sad to realize I’m just funny…and even then, not so much.

Time takes much more than it gives back.  It takes your youth & leaves you with wrinkles.  It takes your vitality & leaves you with teenagers who hate your guts because, “NO YOU CAN’T WEAR YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT & I DON’T CARE IF EVERYONE ELSE IS & DON’T ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME MISSY!!!”, thus turning you into your mother (which in my case SUCKS ASS, cause who in the hell wants to be like her?)  It takes your fun & turns them into memories…which one day you’ll forget & that’s just as sad…hell, even sadder cause you can’t remember shit.  So maybe (for some) it might be good.  But for folks like me who relish their memories…its going to be killer to one day not remember the time we all got drunk on tequila and had one hell of a party in my old apartment (then again…maybe I DO want to forget that one, huh?)

Being in the hospital surrounded by sick & dying people makes your soul sick.  Especially if you’ve had someone you love die in said hospital.  I know he’s here…somewhere, telling me to quick being so sad, don’t I have some stupid function for Hedingham I’m supposed to be planning, quit feeling sorry for myself & for the love of God, stop dying & start LIVING.

Its that last part I really have trouble with.

Wow, this is turning into one bummer of a post, huh?  Well, fuck that.  Lets get back to the lighter side of this.

I looked at all the pictures of this past weekend’s reunion/regatta and I’m so sorry I missed it.  Seeing my girls again brought smiles to my face that I had long thought had died.  You all look absolutely beautiful.  Kate, you glow with a radiance of none other.  Debbie, how I’ve missed that broad smile that on so many occasions brought a smile to my sour puss.  And Tina, did you make some deal with the Devil, cause shit woman…you look EXACTLY the same as you did when we were kids.  Shit.  I want your secret.  I promise, if they do it next year, I’ll be there…even if I’m at death’s door.  I’ll be there for one last hurrah.

Well, its late here in hospital time (yes, 6PM is late for us sickly folk).  So I’m going to pop in yet another LOTR movie and see if I can’t become even nerdier than I already am (bet some of you didn’t know I took a course in elvish, did you now?  Great…I’ve outed myself as THE biggest nerd in the bunch).

Until tomorrow…..I love you all, I miss you all & most of all I miss a bed that doesn’t move (well….when its NOT supposed to <insert very evil sexy laugh here>)

Kisses and hugs to those who know me & love me best. My friends.

XO,
Me AKA The Sick Person in Room 2-11

Do you know what a dance card is?

The dance card originated somewhere in the early 1800’s and was used by women during dances (balls, etc) and held the list of songs that were to be played that night by the orchestra.  The fair maiden would wear this card on her sleeve and it was up to the gentlemen attending that particular night’s dance to seek out his beauty fair, and sign his name by which song he would like to dance her to.

This was highly considered a popular form of courtship right up into the 1900’s but began to see a waning in popularity immediately following WWII.  Although you may still find some “Card Dances” here and there, this form of courtship has unfortunately gone the way of the dodo.

Now, a gentleman could sign his name to one particular maid’s card and fill it in completely, monopolizing her for the entire evening (this is where you get the phrase, “My dance card is full”).

Sometimes (especially during the USO dances during the war) a lady would turn in her dance card for a variety of reasons.  She wasn’t getting any takers, she had found her “Prince Charming” and wished to no longer dance with another or she was just simply tired and through.

This latter answer is the point of my post here today.

I think pneumonia is trying to kill me.  Either that or Dale and the kids have a “hit” out on my ass and have reduced themselves to biologicals, which we all know is dirty pool.  I wouldn’t put it past them….they’re sneaky little shits, the lot of them.

I’ve been through, God knows HOW many varieties of antibiotics in the past 4 months, tons of steroids, too many hospital visits and just when I think I’m in the clear…..I hear that old, familiar rattle in my chest this morning.  Ahhh….the soothing sounds of loose bolts rattling around in my lungs.  I’ll tell ya, there isn’t a more comforting feeling.

I’m at a point in my illnesses that seriously, I’d like to either get better or just die and get it over with.  Either will suffice, because frankly…I’m tired of fighting.

In addition to finances being UBER (and I use that term sternly) tight around here, my beloved pneumonia kept me from doing something I’ve wished a million times I could do since….around 1998.

Go to Miami ALONE and have FUN with my friends.

And thanks to pneumonia, I was able to miss out on something I will probably never be able to participate in again…unless they decide to do this again next year and my friends who came in from out of state decide to come back for their “REUNION…THE SEQUEL” (imagine some cheesy news station “storm watch” intro music here).

And it wasn’t just to visit with my friends.  I miss my parents (yes, even my mother, and if anyone TELLS her that I miss her…I will find you and I will kill you), I miss my sibs (even if my sister is both dating a tool and IS a tool), I  miss my grandmother, I miss my father (notice I left out the step-monster), I miss my old streets, miss my old neighborhood, miss the familiar sights and sounds that only The Springs and VG can provide.

My Great-Uncle Bob (who has since gone on to the great hereafter and man does that suck ’cause he was cool as all hell) used to tell me that I, “had the stuff the pioneers were made of, fire in your belly and strength in your bones”.  That I could conquer just about anything, handle any situation, fight any fight, climb every mountain…you get the jist.

But I’m beginning to realize I can’t anymore.  Even though my brain tells me I’m still “sexy & 17″ (gotta love The Stray Cats), my body more resembles an 80 year-old invalid, rather than the 37 year-old that I am, wracked and riddled with pain, overthrown by illness upon illness.  I sincerely think I take more meds than MY OWN 80 year-old grandmother.

I’m tired of being tired.  I’m sick of being sick.  I’m done with being angry.  I’m finished with it.  I’m through with having to deal.

Now off to choke down some more meds, lay in bed doing absolutely NOTHING (well…I am playing Harvest Moon) and wish that things would get better…for everyone in this house, city, state, country.

And just when you were wondering why I began my post with a lesson in history….

Here is my dance card.  I’m turning it in.