THE LEADER OF THE BAND HAS DIED.

Last weekend, December 9th, Dad passed away with many of us surrounding him, urging him on to his next great adventure with God. Here's a small snippet out of our life with Charlie: Charlie O!

I'M A SWINGER.

When I was a kid, we had a huge rope swing that became sort of a rite of passage. Finally climbing along the tree limb, balancing sideways, feet dangling, getting that rope between our knees and taking that leap was one of the most memorable events of my childhood. When was the last time you had time to even think about swinging? Time, in my world, is a thing of the past. "Time" is the answer to the Jeopardy question, "What is there never enough of?" or "Where did it go?" or "What is the thing you miss most about your youth?" Okay. Perhaps "time" isn't the answer to that last one, but it gets an honorable mention. My last post here was in January of this year. It's October now. We just had our final great 'blast-o'-summer" last week with our screwy Michigan weather making me more convinced than ever that I was NOT meant to live in warmer climes. Especially now. Why especially now? Because now I'm going through that wonderful time in my life called "change." I don't mean "change" in terms of my kids no longer needing me. (Don't they always need something?) And when I think of "change" it's not in terms of retiring from my sedentary job as a court reporter to open my own yarn shop where I live six out of seven days a week; I see that as more of a metamorphosis of lifestyle for me. No; for me right now "change" means my 50+ year-old body has betrayed me, pure and simple. It's not the one I grew up with. It now has a built-in furnace with a broken thermometer. It has sweat glands where I never knew sweat glands were. It stopped making brown hair and eyebrows. It places red spider veins on my chin and little patches of itchy exzema on places like my fingers or my calves. What's with that? Daily I've been trying to think of positive things to get me up and going, such as I only have to shave the very front of my legs now, and not all that often, either. I'm learning fashion by having to dress in layers -- summer layers under winter layers. I spend much less time looking at my reflection. I no longer care if it looks cool to wear sandals in the winter. I'm collecting lots of cute little hand fans that say things like, "Is it just me or is it hot in here?" Red and purple are part of my wardrobe. I've gotten past the irritable stage and have arrived at apathy; no one listens anyway. "Grateful" doesn't even begin to describe what I feel to my parents for my sense of humor, one of the single things that gets me through my busier-than-ever days. Honestly, how do people manage this period of life if they take themselves too seriously? This is funny stuff! This particular misery loves company. We're reassured we're not losing our minds when we learn other 'mid-lifers' are having the same issues. When we hear from those who are on the other side of it, their own stories either encouraging or downright dreadful, we realize they are here to tell us that there is life after 40...and 50...and menopause. I think I'm adjusting, though quite slowly. Now, more than ever, I believe that men will never know how good they have it because they are simply different creatures, as different as cats are from dogs, birds are from fish. That's fine. They couldn't handle this stuff anyway. For now, I'm making every attempt to enjoy the ride. If I discover myself finally on the other side of this "change," I'll let you know. In the meantime, there's a knot tied tightly at the end of my rope, and I'm swinging!

THERE'S A HOLE IN OUR HEARTS TODAY.

CALI - BORN AUGUST 1991, DIED JANUARY 2007

NO, I DIDN'T FALL OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH.

All righty, then. Seems I've been missed. Hard for me to believe, even if only one person missed me. But you, my loyal reader, have been heard. It's Thursday. I know it's Thursday because I had my 'BIG NIGHT OUT' with my fellow Red Hatters at our annual Christmas get-together. What a lovely way to spend an evening. Of course, getting there was a challenge because I had to bring a gift to pass. Seems like that shouldn't be that big a deal seeing as it is the gift-buying season. So, okay. I had the gift. But before I could leave, I had to wrap it. With a bow. Ever try finding a nice Christmas bow in a Michigan basement? A bow that doesn't reek of kitty litter and carry extra strings of webbing? Our basement is about five blocks high. Maybe six. It's maybe 12-foot square, and it holds -- get this -- our furnace, humidifier, water heater, cat box and bed, leftover paint cans, vintage luggage (I say "vintage" because I can hardly recognize it for the dust), wrapping paper, Easter baskets, and various other sundries covered with dust and webs. Suffice it to say, it ain't pretty. But I digress. Finding a lovely bow turned out to be the easy part. Getting the gift wrapped while trying to give my unplanned guest the hint that I was in a hurry to leave was challenged only by my cell phone ringing quickly followed by my home phone ringing. I was pretty popular around 5:15 this evening. Even my normally aloof cat was rubbing against my leg insisting I feed her yet again this week. Waving my guest away with the wish for a safe drive, I ran up the stairs to find something "Christmas-y" to wear and put my eyebrows back on. (I won't even mention the phone call from the gal to whose home I was headed asking me, "Is the party tonight?" She's in way worse shape than me.) I grabbed my red hat, bounded down the stairs, headed for the door, remembering at the last minute I might want to bring that gift I wrapped. Oh, and my coat. I threw my gift in a bag along with my purse, loaded my arm with three more little bags of things I needed to bring, and then headed again for the door, only to stop short realizing I had to move the wet jeans from the washer to the dryer. Heaven forbid I put down the bags. Finally getting myself into the car, I remembered my camera, ran back into the house to retrieve it, slammed a couple doors on my way out, and breathed a HUGH sigh of relief that I could DO NOTHING for a couple hours. More later.

TURN YOUR SOUND UP! PRICELESS!

MARYELLEN, THIS ONE'S FOR YOU.

I want to grow old gracefully. Really; I do. Who wants to grow old UNgracefully? But, damn. It's harder than I thought it would be. Maybe it's because I'm fighting a cold. Maybe it's because I'm not getting enough exercise. Maybe it's because my husband put one of those magnifying mirrors in the bathroom and now I'm aging in 12X. All I know is a year ago I wasn't really A-G-I-N-G. I mean, I was getting older; sure. But I still had a waist. My knees were higher; so was my butt. And my cleavage wasn't in my back. Then I had a hysterectomy. That seemed to kick-start menopause. Now I have hairs on my face and not under my arms. I realize my cheeks and boobs CAN get longer. I have knee-thighs, and they know each other intimately. This is only the beginning! Is this what I'm in for? Lately I'm compelled to talk to my younger, toned -- and therefore better-looking? -- friends only on the phone or through e-mail. I seek out people older than me and hopefully in worse shape. Then I see those women on TV shows and ads with their cat-like eyes and their motionless smiles talking about how wonderful the fifties are, and I want to throttle them. "AGE GRACEFULLY, you hypocrite!" I yell at the screen. "Show us it's REALLY okay!" Give me Jamie Lee Curtis and Katherine Hepburn and Diane Keaton any day. Show me that that's what aging gracefully is all about. Quit pushing Pilates, jogging, gyms and fad diets on me, and instead tell me about yoga and meditation and relationships and acceptance. I haven't done this before, you see. I need guidance from real people who haven't just come from their plastic surgeon to tell me how life can, in fact, start at 50. I know you're out there. Please get to me while I still love my laugh lines. No one ever told me, though, that laugh lines can go all the way down the neck.

WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?

28 YEARS OF BLEDDED WISS!

LABOR DAY and the BIG FISH TALE!

LOOK AT THIS!

Look at this thing! Not my mom. (Though she does look mahvelous, dudn’t she?) She’s there for perspective. I’m talking about these hibiscus…or hibiscii? Whatever. These are some amazing flowers for here in Michigan! And before anyone wonders…no, these are not mine. Well…the mom is.

REUNION 2006!

WHAT THE HECK???

What (might you ask) is this? It's pretty obvious when you see it in context. (Click HERE to get the whole picture.) This was found after returning from kayaking the Jordan River last Sunday. Can you say "OUCH"?!?

UP A RIVER WITH MANY PADDLES!

Last Friday found us on the beautiful Jordan River where a dozen hearty souls enjoyed kayaking and canoeing on one of the hottest days of the year. It may have been in the 90's, but we were cool and comfortable making our way down the very cold river. Some of the guys went ahead (the boys had to reconnoiter their ambush spots -- poor Meg) while we women took our time enjoying the peace and quiet of a wonderful day. Thanks, Sarah, for arranging such a great afternoon! Here's a few "action shots" from our adventure: Album.

I'VE FOUND A RUT, AND I'M STAYING IN IT!

Things are quiet in the ol' town right now. We just finished with Alpenfest, our town's annual week-long festival. It was hotter 'n blazes -- well into the 90's and sunny, sunny, sunny. Who'd figure back in the throes of winter we'd all be complaining about the heat a few months down the road. There's just no pleasing Michiganders. OS*1 and bride are settling into life as Okie's. He's started his new job, she's busy getting her bidness off the ground, and we're looking forward to our first visit there come fall. OS2 will start her second job in about a week and then fall classes will begin shortly. We'll see her next weekend when she comes to march in a parade in support of a friend running for re-election. OS3 is busy busy busy doing -- what, I'm not sure. Well, he works, he plays, and he listens to his scanner to keep current on the pulse of this fine metropolis town. The SU* is off flying the unfriendly skies over the Middle East making sure our boys in blue and brown and camo get all the mail we can send. Me -- I'm holding down the fort, as it were, cleaning up after bloody cat fights, tripping over a doting dog, and making sure there's something and someone for everyone to come home to. And I'm NOT leaving my rut. *OS=Offspring *SU=Spousal Unit

CLICK TO SEE KAYAKING ALBUM!

HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!

ANYONE ELSE HAVE ONE OF THESE?

IS SHE A SEA-GOIN' DOG?

We're not really sure yet...

ISN'T SHE BEAUTIFUL?

Isn't this just one gorgeous animal? I introduced her on this blog a couple months ago, and I have to say this little girl has come a long way. She was SO timid when we first rescued her. It used to be she'd try to hide the entire day under the bed. If she was downstairs and heard my DH or any male in the house, she'd bolt. But after lots of exposure to lots of people and simply not allowing her to hide from us, she's beginning to let the guys pet her and give her treats and will even run in the back yard with the boys. We take her out to the cottage and have her sit with us in the yard. She finally relaxes (once she's ignored), and she ends up really enjoying herself. Hopefully she'll learn to associate people with GOOD things instead of scary things.

WHOA. IT'S JUNE.

In case you didn't know it (and, heck, why would you?), I'm from a pretty big family -- 10 sibs; eight of them being the boy kind and the rest girls. That makes -- right -- 11 of us. The only reason I'm even bringing this up is because it's June. I love June. But there are eight birthdays in June. Eight! I'm not exactly complaining about them. I'm glad each of them were born and all. But have you any idea how hard it is to keep up? There used to be two anniversaries in June, but, well, now there aren't, if you get my drift. Anyway, I'm just saying I'm really thankful for E-cards. I put everyone on Hallmark's email reminder list. It took me weeks. But now I just add 'em as they come. It's SO handy! And the nice thing is I can do them all at once and set the date to send them, and people actually think I'm doing this all month long! So, ya know, I have that goin' for me.

I'M ALL 'BASHED' OUT

Here we are. It's two weeks since the BIG EVENT. It's still hard to believe it's behind us. It was such a grand and wonderful time! Even Mother Nature got all mushy and gave us sunshine and warmth until everyone was dancing in blissful ignorance during the evening rain. The kids (the newlyweds) seemed to really enjoy themselves while they were completely and totally surrounded by the love of their family and friends. There were a few happy tears, some really tender moments, and hours of laughing and dancing and laughing some more. It's so fun to relive it in my mind! In the meantime, the new Mr. and Mrs. decided to postpone going anywhere so they could concentrate their energies on their upcoming move to Oklahoma next month. Never in my wildest, weirdest dreams did I ever expect to spend my son's honeymoon period with him. I mean, sure; I've heard we're kind of a fun couple. But, ya know, there must have been some kind of line I forgot to draw in the sand or something. Thankfully we could get out to the cottage for some R&R of our own. And I know once they're "Okies" I'll wish they were back on the other side of the bedroom wall. For now, I guess we'll just take what we can get and be flattered that they even want to stay with us!

Woo-HOOOO!!! They're MARRIED!

THEY DID IT!

NOT LONG NOW, B'WANA.

Okay. Here I am, the Mother of the Groom -- in three more days! It's hard to believe it's really upon us. I'd have to say all the preps are done. Favors; music, seating arrangements, programs, fittings, manicures, pedicures, and hair appointments. The first of the out-of-town guests have arrived (from California). More are heading in tomorrow. The bride and groom are at their respective homes now just waiting for the big day. I think it's safe to say that the bride has more on her mind right now than the groom. I can say that because I'm the MOG. He's here. His buddies are around. They're laughing, talking, kidding around, knowing that all they really have to do is show up in good form. The bride, on the other hand, is exhausted, not eating, not sleeping. The MOB is, too, but she's more worried about her daughter than herself. She's been through this many years ago, and she knows how it ends:   Everyone has a great time, no one is aware of any glitches, and the party is talked about for months. But the weather is not cooperating for the rehearsal dinner cookout. No one probably cares except me, and intellectually I know it'll work out no matter how we do it. But I have a vision of how I'd like it to be, and I'm not sure Mother Nature is aware of my wishes. If she is, she's stringing me along in hopeful disbelief as I watch our tv weathermen try and predict guess the weather two evenings from now. I'm convinced these meterologists are not aware this is Michigan, where weather cannot be forecast. The Great Lakes belly-laugh at "doppler radar" and "zone forecasts," knowing full well they can influence just about anything that comes our way. I think I should just stop looking at tv and accept the fact that there are simply some things I have no control over. I'll again live by my motto: Make a plan, but don't plan on it!

DISTRACTION INACTION

Yup. I'm a little distracted. It's countdown to the wedding, of course. But it's also countdown to our west coast company arriving (6 days!), and it's countdown to our youngest's high school graduation. But that's a whole week after the wedding, so, you know, I've got that goin' for me. Have you ever been just a bit paralyzed by the sheer number of things you want to get done? Has someone ever compared your look to "a deer in the headlights"? The groom-to-be is moving home tomorrow (along with his cat Gregor), and with him usually come "the guys." Don't get me wrong. I love "the guys." Known 'em forever. It's just that I'm a bit distracted. And if I have enough distractions, there is total inaction on my part on what needs to be done. Sort of like if I just ignore it all, it'll magically be done next time I look. I feel a bit like Scarlett O'Hara: "Fiddle-dee-dee. I'll worry about that tomorrow!"

ON SECOND THOUGHT

Yeah. On second thought, I should mention we tried that shower thing (see post below) for already-marrieds quite awhile back. It was great for the first married couple at their 15-year anniversary. By the time the second couple had made it to 10 years, nobody seemed all that interested in spending the $$ on a shower. When the third and fourth couples reached their milestone, number 1 couple was divorced. Kind of put a damper on future shower events. I'm just saying, it sounded like a good idea at the time. We're going on 28 years of bledded wiss. So, you know, I've got that going for me.

LET THE COUNTDOWN BEGIN!

Okay. I've added a cute little ticker countdown to -- well, I suppose to add to my stress levels! (I wonder if they have one for stress levels!) Another shower for K & A gifted the kids with some beautiful items from their registries. Lucky ducks! I once had an idea that we should give anniversary showers for couples married 10, 20, 30 years. Wouldn't that be a great idea? You know what you like, you know what you use, you know what you need -- or what needs replacing -- and it kind of rejuvinates things for the old married couple. It doesn't have to be extravagant; just fun, And with the divorce stats the way they are, hey, one more incentive to stick with it (at least until after the milestone,) might not be a bad idea! Everybody likes new stuff! So next on the agenda is meetings regarding music and seating, then another hair appointment (not sure I liked how the last one went), and then PROM for Senior-Boy. LET THE COUNTDOWN BEGIN!

I'm such a wuss.

Things are gonna start happenin' now! Easter is over, so now we're on the final stretch to THE BIG DAY! For those who don't know, our oldest son is getting married May 20th (see previous posts). While I'm only the MOG (Mother of the Groom), I'm finding the stress related to this position plentiful and am eternally grateful Number 2 Child didn't marry first (yes; a girl). I'm someone who works best under pressure. I like to put big projects off till the last minute and then act like a crazy-woman trying to get it all done 'by tomorrow'! However, I'm certainly not going to let that happen with this wedding. I have found the dress, though I have yet to receive the phone call telling me the alterations are finished. I've got the shoes and the total body sucker. I'm going this week for a dye-job and a sample hair styling. I've got my calendar filled with appointments, showers, pre-events, post-events, guest arrival and departure dates, etc. I've started a honey-do list for dh that will keep him busy for weeks. My problem is direction. I feel like I'm being pulled six ways to Sunday every day. Transcripts need typing, my house needs deep cleaning, my garden needs raking, laundry needs laundering, phones need answering, dogs need walking. But all I really want to do is escape into my knitting, and hide behind needles and patterns and yarn. Can you say "avoidance"? I really am such a wuss.

This MOG is Stylin' Now!

Yup. I found my dress for the upcoming nuptials of our eldest son in May. If you've read any of the previous posts regarding that most disturbing of shopping experiences, you'll know that this wasn't nearly as fun as it seems like it should have been; you know, going from dress store to dress store, trying on gown after gown, getting a full-length look at that aging body in bad lighting. Yeah; you catch my drift. It was definitely not for the faint of heart. But after pretty much exhausting every "local" dress shop (as in within a 75-mile radius), I found a very beautiful dress from the Mon Cheri, Montage line that is not quite so MOG-ish. In fact, the blurb on their site actually says, "For that Mother of the Bride who doesn't want to look like the Mother of the Bride" -- or Groom, as it were. I'd post a picture of it here, but then you might think I'm actually supposed to look like the model who's wearing it. Since the models in the photo are in their 20's, that's not gonna happen. I've got the Spanx, I've got the Miss Groovy undergarment. I'll just leave it to your imagination that I'll look ... well, at least not quite MOG-ish.

FAIR IS MIDDLING.

Life really does begin after 45, it seems. And if you want the proof, here's a recent report from the Journal of Advanced Nursing, in which researchers from the College of Nursing at Arizona State University measured the stress levels and personality traits of 299 women of various ages. What they found is encouraging: Women between ages 18 and 29 were under high stress, and had poor personality traits. Result: poor health, both physically and emotionally. Between ages 30 and 45, stress levels generally went up, but women with strong personality traits saw their way through it all, and they were healthier than when they were younger. Once past 45, emotional stress levels declined, while the healthy personalities became better still.

WELCOME, SADIE!

Meet Sadie (above photo album).

Meet Sadie, (above) the newest member of our family! We rescued Sadie from the local shelter. She's a four-year-old Spitz mix (which would account for the wolf-like appearance) who was not treated well by her former owner. She was left outside on a chain and has not been socialized at all. She is timid and fearful of strangers, loud talk, big men, and unfamiliar noise. She doesn't bark, doesn't know how to play, but she has a heart of gold and has stolen mine. She's totally devoted to me and is at my feet constantly, mostly lying down keeping my toes warm. I know she'll eventually come around, because her need to please is more than obvious. She seems eager to learn, and every day she opens up a little more. It hasn't even been a week, and already our cat, Cali (see other posts), has accepted her, which is amazing since Cali hasn't accepted another animal in the house in over 14 years. Could it be she senses a wounded soul?

Andrew, this one's for you!

Galveston, Oh Galveston (to music...) !!!

So, hey! We did the Houston and Galveston, Texas. thing. It was kinda nice. Not that Houston is necessarily anyplace I would 'vacation,' but it sure was nice to get out of the cold and snow and into some warmth and sunshine. We were even able to stick our feet in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico and see how people live in the winter when there's no ice and snow to contend with. They live nice! (See short photo album.) BTW, can anyone tell me what that is on the beach in Galveston? (See photo #5.) Yes, I'm afraid I could get used to not hauling layers of Thermafill in my outerware. And sandals! You could probably wear sandals MOST OF THE TIME! (Think of the money I'd be spending on pedicures, though.) You're outside more, too, and that HAS to be good for you. Where we were in Houston (right by the airport) the scenery left a bit to be desired, but I'm sure once you head north a ways past the 'burbs, it's probably quite nice. Anyway, though the time was short, it was well-spent. I needed that. And I could use it again.

This is Amazing!

Multi Touch Watch Video

Cottage Living

In August 20, 2005, we bought a cottage! I'm so thrilled! We laugh and say it's "up north," but it's only three miles from our home -- albiet two miles NORTH! It's just a two-bedroom, one little bath place, but it has the most perfect kitchen, decking, view, and amenities ever. It's more than I could have asked for, and it's our compromise. With all the traveling my husband does, he rarely wants to go anywhere once he's home. Now I can get away without actually getting away, and he can relax and unwind by kayaking around our little lake and putzing around the cottage. The entire family has enjoyed it with our little 'fleet' of boats: two kayaks, an aluminum fishing boat, and a two-seater paddle-boat. We've met some wonderful neighbors who don't come up nearly enough! It was so lovely last fall in the peace and quiet of no tv, no phone, and no computer. One morning I woke to a thunderstorm and sat at the table eating my bagel, drinking my coffee, and watching the little hummingbird outside my window as he drank his breakfast. It had such a calming effect on me -- nothing like it. Just the thought of it and the anticipation of spring makes me happy.

It's the 23rd -- No, it's the 24th...

You'd think I'd be tired. You'd think I'd be worn out. I went shopping again today. The MOB and I left here at 9:30 in the morning to drive 70 miles to a town where there are a few more options in mothers-of-the-couple wear. The roads were dry, the sun was trying to make an appearance, and we were both armed with numbers and pictures of dresses we wanted to try on. And this time I wore the tummy-sucker I'd bought over the weekend to relieve my ab muscles of holding in my belly all the time. As an added precaution, I made sure not to drink too many liquids. We even braved the 30-degree weather and left our coats in the car so as not to be too encumbered during our quest. Our first stop didn't pan out, although we both discovered the high school girls should be shopping for prom dresses right now. ($25 bucks for last fall's designs!) We put a couple things on hold knowing we probably wouldn't be back for them. We made our way to the bridal shop in the mall, none too confident that we'd find anything there after seeing bright, bushy, teenage-styled gowns in the window. Entering the place and taking it all in changed our minds. In 15 minutes I had 35 dresses to try on; the MOB had maybe 15. Of course, never sure what size is really accurate and being ridiculously size-gunshy, I actually had pretty good luck with straight 10's and tried on gown after gown. Dashing in and out of the dressing room, trading mirror time with the MOB, I was once again amazed and appalled at the creature looking back at me. I can't say I found nothing; I did find a couple things I liked. But when I shop for something like this, I really have to love it before I can buy it. And these babies aren't cheap. Plus the gal is now telling us they'd have to put a 'rush' order on the one dress I was considering in order to get it here by the wedding in May. Lucky, lucky MOB, though! She found the most perfect dress for her that you could ever imagine. Nothing she would have taken a second glance at normally, this dress really was made for her -- with some alterations. (Did I mention she's a size 2?) It's stunning, really. So gorgeous, in fact, that I feel the bar has been raised so high that I just can't get near it. So now the pressure is really on. That's why I'm sitting up at 3:00 in the morning clicking through collections of dresses trying to find something to wear in May. I ordered a bunch of dresses online that can be returned, but I want to try them on. I ordered them all in a 12. (I bet I'm at least an 8 with this company!) Finally, having never fallen asleep in front of a computer before, the little clock reflecting on the wall is telling me to JUST GO TO BED! Okay.

When Did I Become A MOG?

Okay. So I'm thrilled and excited that our oldest son, Andrew, is getting married this spring to a wonderful, beautiful young woman who adores him. Isn't that what every mother wants for their boys? Well, sure! They can't be just ours forever. And, hey; it's not about me anyway. But since shopping for a dress for the upcoming nuptials, I've suddenly become a "Mother of the Groom." What the world?!? How can this be? Can I be a MOG when inside I'm still their age? I look at the dresses on the racks and online. I love all the shape-hugging, flirty, shoulder-baring designs with their wavy hemlines and soft-as-a-cloud material that pass the 'twirl' test. And the shoes! Every color, every style, leg-flattering and strappy -- why, I remember wearing those shoes many years ago! How many years? Well, just enough to allow me to believe, somewhere in the deep recesses of my aging mind, that I could still look darn good in them. Wouldn't you think, in the world of high fashion (or at least expensive-for-me fashion), that vanity sizing would have found its niche? Me, too. I found so many beautiful dresses to try on, grabbing 8's and 10's (though surely 10's would be too big) in beautiful shades of pastels named "sage green," "persimmon," "ice pink," and "buttercup." This would be a piece of cake. And I came prepared. I wore easy-on, easy-off clothing. I had on nylons with belly-hugging spandex. I wore a strapless beige bra. What fun!! Catching sight of my pale pink, half-naked body in the wall-sized mirror only made me throw the dresses on faster. Trying to reach around my back to pull up zippers seemed harder than normal -- until I realized with embarrassing horror that it wasn't the zipper. It was the start of BACK CLEAVAGE!!! That zipper wasn't going anywhere! Peeling off the size 8, I grabbed a size 10 to try to gain back what little self-esteem I still had. What the -- where are the straps? Are these STAYS in the bodice? Do they expect us to BREATHE with these things pressing against our ribs? What twisted male designer decided we women yearned once more for the 14th century? And when would this start to be fun? As I watched my daughter in the next dressing room model dress after dress, style after style, I turned back to that wicked, dreadful mirror reflecting lousy lighting and wondered where had all my curves gone? Where was my glowing skin? My perky breasts? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED??? So, yeah. That was the beginning of a slow and rude awakening. I might feel 25 inside. My mind still knows what it feels like to slide something over my head and have it fall around me and fit like it was made for me, the silky material glancing against my legs. I remember twirling with my arms outstretched, in strappy heels, peeking in the mirror over my shoulder as I'd spin, looking like a ballerina and feeling beautiful. Beautiful! I guess I had my time. I guess now it's their turn. It's a bitter pill to swallow. Thankfully they make dresses for MOGs like me who aren't quite ready to give it up completely. There are some lovely, elegant gowns out there, beaded and silky, more suited to my age and in shades that won't make me disappear. Maybe next time I'll take my mom, or maybe my older sister. I'll find it. I'll make it work. It's not about me, anyway. It's about my son and his fiancé; about them starting their lives together. But now I know for sure: Youth is definitely wasted on the young.

Quotes I Love

A perfect parent is a person with excellent child-rearing theories and no actual children. ~ Dave Barry There's nothing so tragic as seeing a family pulled apart by something as simple as a pack of wolves. ~ Jack Handey To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world. ~ Unknown Beware of running with scissors and other pointy objects. It's all good fun until someone loses an eye. ~ Jack Handey Remember, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but she did it backwards and in high heels. ~ Faith Whittlesey The loneliest woman in the world is a woman without a close woman friend. ~ George Santayana For two people in a marriage to live together day after day is unquestionably the one miracle the Vatican has overlooked. ~ Bill Cosby Laughter rises out of tragedy, when you need it the most, and rewards you for your courage. ~ Erma Bombeck It takes a village to raise a child. ~ Unknown Suppose you were an idiot; and suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself. ~ Mark Twain People will forget what you say. People will forget what you do. But people will never forget how you made them feel. ~ Unknown It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt. ~ Mark Twain My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk until I faint. ~ Erma Bombeck If you can't be a good example, then you'll just have to be a horrible warning. ~Catherine Aird The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them. ~Mark Twain Life is difficult. This is a great truth; one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult - once we truly understand and accept it - then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters. ~ M Scott Peck Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. ~Unknown

Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty!!!

Here's my Cali -- an unoriginal name for a very original cat, at least IMHO. When she chooses to, she'll avail herself of the kitty bed I knit up for her. She found us when we moved into our house over 14 years ago. She was just a kitten, probably 5 or 6 weeks old, looking for some food in all the boxes in our garage. It was love at first sight, and she's been with us ever since. She's very independent (natch'), and will take any attention she can get, as long as it's on her terms. She absolutely HATES anything else with four legs. We had a small dog for awhile, and she tolerated her with disdain. My mom has a long-haired calico kitten who comes to visit occasionally, but Cali thinks she's a complete and total idiot. Bertie Kitty will tease her, sneak up on her, follow her around, and poor Cali has to hiss and swat at her to tell her to "back off!" Then Cali will turn to me with a look of complete disgust, as if to say, "What's the matter with you, woman? Why would you let this thing in my house?" Once little Bertie gets the snot kicked out of her, she finally gets herself worn out enough to take a little 'cat nap.'

Charlotte Has Left The Building ...Well, sort of.

My wonderful, beautiful spider, Charlotte (see below) has finally died. I wondered how long she'd live in the house. In the late fall we found her on the ground and, thinking her dead, I picked her up and brought her inside with some wooden tongs. While examining her up close and personal for about 10 minutes, darned if her legs didn't start to move and spread out. SHE WAS ALIVE! Naturally, I freaked out, made some sort of high-pitched squawking sound, soundly dropped her, then smacked myself in the face with the tongs. Eee-YEWWWW! I rather surprised myself, because I really did think I was over being squirmy about her; apparently that was only true while I had the door between us. In any case, my son and I put her in a little fishbowl, covered it with some screening, and fed her crickets until they died. She eventually stopped eating and went to spidey heaven -- or something. Here's hoping one just like her returns next summer.

ION (In Other News)

BTW, here is my oldest son, Andrew, and his fiance, Kristin. They're getting married in May! Hmm...a knitted garter, perhaps?

Teensy, weensy, spider...NOT!

Well, this is Charlotte (surprise!). She came to our back door in July of 2005 about the size of a sunflower seed with legs, and she lived with us until December. (We did bring her inside and fed her crickets for awhile, but she still didn't make it.) Charlotte is an Orb Weaver, and you can see why. Once I was able to get past the shivers whenever I looked at her, I started really examining and studying her and discovered she was actually pretty darned interesting. It would take her about 45 minutes to spin these webs, then she'd hang upside down and wait for her next meal. I learned that there were three types of silk that made up her web, and that only the ladder-style strings of silk were sticky. I was truly hoping to come downstairs one morning and see "TERRIFIC!" written inside her beautiful design. No such luck.

Charlotte is alive and well.

Books I Hope To Read

The new Dr. Phil book about finding a guy or fixing the one you got, or something like that. The Road Less Traveled. I've started it three times because I love the first line: "Life is Difficult." It's my mantra. Sue Grafton's latest book, S is for ... Something. Some of the umpteen magazines I get in the mail every week. There's just not enough bathroom time anymore.