Back on track......

The sick one is feeling better today and it appears that the trek north will commence Saturday morning as planned. I attempted to redeem the bad karma of yesterday. Do the lords of karma reward you for an attempt, even if it is not well received?

Jeff (http://www.thewvsr.com/) mentioned people who butcher the language by pronouncing certain words incorrectly. I added my 2 cents to the comments and I will post them here as well. A woman whom I knew quite well years ago always said beef as "beeth", and she referred to K-Mart as K-Mark, as well as calling the crevice tool on her vacuum the "cervix tool".

My Mom always said "Chick-a-fil" for Chick-fil-a. My husband's Mom called doilies "derlies" and the toilet "terlit". He claims that was due to her Irish ancestry.

A friend talked about going on a diet and eating her "Lean Cruzines". I have always had to stifle a laugh when hearing the above butcherings.

I just got my comeuppance............

Oh, boy, I should have read my horoscope early this morning! If I had, I might have acted a little differently. Here's what AstrologyZone said for me today:

"You have an important job today, dear Scorpio. Go out of your way to protect a loved one. Wrap yourself around someone who needs a warm and sheltered cave to sit in. Bring out the loving and nurturing part of you. More than likely, there is someone close to you, either a friend or romantic partner who needs your special warmth to feel protected and loved. Adopt the role of the loving caretaker. "

Sounds like I should have given in and been more responsive to the whims and whines of the sick one, instead of creating more bad karma. Can I catch up tomorrow?

A sick husband.........

A sick husband is to be avoided at all costs. That is impractical, of course, no matter how desirable. Why are men such babies? Why do they whine and act as though they have been mysteriously singled out for attack by whatever germ assails them at that moment?

To be fair, my guy is hardly ever sick. But when he is, my main thrust is to get lost as soon as possible and for as long as it takes him to get well. He cannot believe he has a temperature of 99.9 (as if that is near to dying). His main objective is to have me holding his hand, awaiting his beck and call, ready to serve his every whim. I don't do that when he is well, so why should he think I will when he is sick? If he were ill with a serious problem, I would actually be much more solicitous than I appear to be now. A simple cold or flu does not create in me a great compassion. The best I can do is buy orange juice and cough drops.

I do feel sorry for him in one way. Twice recently he was supposed to go to DC to see Georgetown University play basketball, and both times he was prevented from making the trip; first by the weather and now, by illness. I reminded him that since nothing happens without a reason, the fact that he cannot go may be saving his life. He liked that.

More of the same.....

In honor of Brenda, here are more names:

Bubie Gooch
Odessa Crumble
T. Fud Pucker Tucker
Zoda Viola Glontz Gazola
Magnetic Love (Could she be related to Brenda??)
London L. Bridge
Melissa Getzoff Daly (from wedding announcements)
Shannon Lay Offut
Early Byrd
Elda Berry
Anna Lovely Day
Rose Rose
Nigel Earthworm III
Carlotta Dick
Shiela Dikshit
My Cherie Bush
John Bigmeat
Robbie Gobble
Dick Holder
Lotta Dick
Truly Boring
Chandler Chandler (Mrs. Patrick Chandler)
Harry Cocks
Hutch Earp
Fecilous M. Blango
Ova Swiney
Stacy Macy

More tomorrow...........

Odd, amusing and downright funny names.....

Before I start the list, let me say that if your name or that of a relative shows up here, I am hoping you will not take offense. Some names just strike me funny, and there is no need to get up-in-arms about it. Some of them have a peculiar rhythm, and that can be amusing. I always imagine these names being pronounced by Barney Fife, and that makes me laugh a whole lot!

Quessie Mae Knuckles
Positive Wasserman Johnson
Molester Jones
Cantwell F. Muckenfuss, III
Voncil Shindledecker
Cash Register
Fannie Cheeks
Mittie J. Pigg
Annie Flucker
Ophelia Rump
Bonnie Craps
Major Michangelo Boyd
John Fairey
Heiner Krapp
Charles Fagg
Arizona Feaster
Sioux Furmeister
Bisco Fairbetter
Sedona Shindledecker
S. Moochly Small
King Solomon Hurdle
Lunda Mungo
Golden Keys
Lemoine Morecock
Basil Smallpiece
Dillard Pickle
Brockenbrough Lamb
John Barf
Rose Hips
Theartrest Valentine
Mandy Pandy
Pensacola Moseley
Bernice Blow
Toppie Smellie
Herman Sherman Berman
Magdalena Babblejack
Carl Fillinger, DDS
Turley Curd (say that 3 x fast!)
Prister B. Tealie
Wendall Mendall
Groover Blitch
Woody Dicus
Zilpher Spittle
Eppley Veach Pridgen
Strong Boozer
Ozell Fluck

That's all for today, but I'll write more if anyone is interested.

My most embarrassing moments......really.

When I was about 12, our local YWCA had dances on Friday nights for junior-high schoolers. One hot summer, I remember my group deciding to leave the Y and walk down the street to a theater where a "racy" film from Sweden was playing, called "Wild Strawberries". We did not have permission to leave the Y, of course, so little did we know that as soon as we left, they called all our parents and told them where to find us.

We had been in the theater about 40 minutes, watching what passed for soft-core porn in those days, but would probably be PG-13 now, when suddenly I saw my Mom enter from one of the side exits. She scrunched up her eyes trying to see me and I didn't duck quickly enough. Spotting me, she marched up the aisle like a storm-trooper, grabbed me by the ear and literally pulled me from the theater. Up to that time I had never been so embarrassed, but I topped that one many years later.........

Embarrasing moment number two came after I was married and had my first child. My husband and I had been invited to an event sponsored by a group to which his bosses' wife belonged, and then we were to go to breakfast afterward, at the home of another work associate. My babysitter was a married woman, who told me that she shouldn't be out too late due to her husband's back trouble; he had a slipped disc. As we were preparing to leave the breakfast, someone asked me why we had to leave so early - and I assure you I was stone cold sober, though you may never believe it - I replied that my babysitter's husband was in bed with a "stripped dick".

People rolled in the floor, holding their bellies and so did I. The laughter didn't die down for an hour.

Old Friends, Camp and Kisses

An old song I used to sing at camp goes: "Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other's gold." How true. I had a call from an old school friend tonight; bearing tidings of another classmate who has had a rough time of it physically and has lost down to 124 lbs., probably less than she weighed while in school. I suspect we all want to lose weight - but NOT that way. Get well, D.

Speaking of camp, as a child I attended summer camps that were built and maintained by Union Carbide (you had to be the child of an employee). After a posting a comment recently on another web-log (wherein I mentioned the camp), I received an email informing me that there is a web-site devoted to the camps, with photos, maps, song sheets and reminiscences. How unimaginable to me that there is someone who remembers so fondly his days at summer camp that he would devote an entire site to them. But - I am glad he did - as it may be able to put me in touch with fourth grade chums. My family moved around quite a bit when I was small, so I knew these people for 3-4 years and then we moved and I had to go to another school. The camps have been having reunions in July, and I may attend just so I can see my old friends again. I remember countless hours spent with them, cutting out paper dolls and sitting in a dark closet telling ghost stories.

I also remember my first kiss. It was from an older guy of 12 and a "man of the world" to us girls, who lined up and kissed him one after another, time after time. The trouble (which we didn't know then) was that he really didn't know how to kiss any more than we did! I still remember the feeling of his teeth smashing into my bruised lips, which were cut on the inside by my braces. His idea of a kiss was to bang mouths together like you might hit a nail with a hammer. At the time we thought this must be how it is done; most of us did not have TV then, and we were not taken to see movies in which people kissed. My movie fare at the time was westerns, with Hopalong Cassidy and Gene Autry being the favorites, and they only kissed their horses. At 15, I met someone who did know how to kiss and that was the end of westerns for me.

A Gluttonous Stupor

My extravagant birthday dinner for my son produced in all of us a gluttonous stupor. I amazed myself, as I am not usually an excellent cook, but everything turned out well and there were not many leftovers. Even my granddaughters were complimentary and cleaned their plates; they of mundane tastes running to peanut butter and jelly or grilled cheese. It did my heart good to see them enjoying their meal. I suppose I am after all the typical mother/grandmother; with nuturing instincts I never thought possible when I was young. So be it - it is my role nowadays.

Why do we write blogs?

I saw on a blog where some are speculating why people like to write blogs. I suspect many are written as a way to keep in touch with friends and family without having to write multiple letters. Some I have run across are definitely not written for any families I know, as the language is so rough as to curdle your ears.

When I began writing, I thought it would be a vehicle for me to help brides and their mothers with questions about wedding planning, especially as it pertains to flowers. But since no one of that persuasion contacted me, I began to write whatever crossed my mind, or sometimes other blogs would spark me to write about a particular subject.

I've been thinking about how little I really knew about my Mother's Mother. If she had written a blog, maybe I would know the real person and not just what someone told me about her or what I, as a child, could ascertain for myself. Perhaps my grandchildren will one day read these musings and be happy that they are able to see a side of me that they might not otherwise have been able to know. Of course, that precludes writing about SOME subjects - and I guess I should keep the language clean (although in life I can really make the curse words get up and dance, as my Mom used to say).

To that end, I will have to give someone other than my friend David in FLA (via WV) the link to the blog. I think I will write the link on an index card and put it in my safety deposit box - so they can find it after I am gone. If I knew they were reading it daily, it would hamper my ability to write easily.

So children (and grandchildren) if one day you are reading these words, know how much I loved you and that I wish you all well in the future.

Death (almost) by Chevy Lumina

I had a scare yesterday; a litle old white-haired lady ( "Grammy", as she proudly announced on her license plate) proceeded to blast out of a gas station lot at full speed without even looking to see if anyone was coming up in that lane. Thank God there was no one in the lane to my right, otherwise, I might have been dust in the wind by now, taken out by a Chevy Lumina. (How unremarkable to die by Chevy!)

Today is my son's birthday, and he and his family are coming for dinner. I am cooking all his favorites: Marinated London broil with Darby sauce, mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, green beans with onions and lemon juice, crowder peas, spinach salad with sliced strawberries and home-made poppyseed dressing, and a pineapple upside-down cake. Wouldn't you like to come too? Actually, he has probably never tasted crowder peas. A friend gives them to me; she grows them in her garden, and I love them. There are really only 2 people in the world whom I really love to cook for; one is my son and the other was my father. Either of them would eat anything that was put in front of them, without complaint, and be damn glad to get it! People like that make me want to cook for them - and cook better than usual. Go figure, since they would be happy with ordinary everyday food.

Lost in cyberspace.

Computer problems have kept me off-line and stewing about it for two days. I could get connected, but not signed in, therefore: no email or web surfing. MSN Tech Support was about as knowledgable and helpful as my cats would have been on the subject. They pronounced it a virus software problem and suggested that I disable anti-virus software and contact the company. I doubted that was the trouble, and so last night I played around until I was able to do a "system restore". I chose the restore date of Feb. 7th, not realizing that I would have to once again download and reinstall every update that
had come in since then, so I was at it until 2:20 am. Next time I have to do the restore, I will choose the latest possible date for it.

My husband, who sold computers for many years, but has less of a clue than I do (and that's about what you could pack into a thimble) on how they work or how you cure a problem, blamed it on all the "crazy" blogging I do. Yeah, right. Nothing he ever does could have caused the problem, he declares. Actually, he thinks that of his whole life: nothing he has ever done has caused a problem. He's Mr. Wonderful (in his eyes only). But that's a whole 'nother post.

Don't like my attitude?

Someone sent me an email today with a lot of "Maxine" cartoons and sayings, and my favorite is: "Don't like my attitude? Send me an email at www.likeIcare.com (I don't think anyone relly has this web-site but maybe we should check it out?)

Brenda Love at http://planetbrenda.blogspot.com mentioned quitting smoking this morning and since every blog I read prompts me to write on the same subject, I decided this is the topic tonight.

I should have had www.likeIcare.com tatooed on my forehead when I was quitting smoking! I started smoking when I was 15, just to impress the crowd I was hanging around with at that time. They were all a little older and once I asked to try a cig and of course, I coughed and sputtered and hacked for an hour afterward. That should have been my clue to never try it again - but no - I had to prove I could do it. So I bought a pack of Winstons, locked myself in the bathroom at home, and lit every damn one of them until I could inhale without an immediate coughing fit. I swear by then I was hooked (I am, no doubt, the most addictive personality in the history of humankind). I couldn't smoke at home, so I had to content myself with having one on the way to school in the a.m. and whenever I was out with my friends. I even took a job from noon to 12:45 at the local sandwich shop across the street from my school and bought cigarettes with my pay. By the time I was in college, I had a minimum 2 pack a day habit, and 3 if I was up late studying or partying. I smoked all throughout my pregnancies (shame on me!) and when I was about 37, my kids started begging me to quit. They really hated it when I smoked in the car with them, and I just thought they were exaggerating about the smoke and irritation.

By the time I was 38, I had had a lot of sinus infections and colds. I never thought they were attributable to smoking, but now I am certain they were. I began to have the feeling every morning like a bowling ball was resting on my breastbone, and little by little I realized that I really needed to stop smoking. On the day I decided to do it, I was very nervous and grouchy. The next morning, I did not light up before getting out of bed, as I had done every other day for 2o years. By noon, I had cried so hard my face was red and swollen. At 3pm, I had to pick up my younger daughter from school and take her to the YMCA after-school program. When she got in the car, she said something that "gave me an excuse" to light up - and I did. She knew that I had been trying to quit that day and after I lit up and took the first puff, I turned around to look at her and the look of sheer terror and disappointment on her face made me more ashamed of myself than I had ever been before. I threw the cig out the window and I have never lit another one since.

It was not easy; in fact, it was the single hardest thing I have ever had to go through, including childbirth without anesthetics and a root canal while I was pregnant, also without anesthetics.
I alternately cried, prayed, cried, yelled, screamed, cursed, prayed and cried for about 2 weeks.I referred to it as my "dark night of the soul". I don't know how I managed to get through those 2 weeks and still have a husband and family at the end of it. They really must love me, because I am pretty sure I could NOT have put up with me during that time. I can say now that quitting smoking is one of the best accomplishments in my life and one I am most proud of. Immediately, my coloring improved; I went from sallow grayish to pinkish and healthy looking. My stamina improved tremendously too, and I had never realized before how much cigarettes sapped my energy. Everything smelled better and tasted better - plus I had a lot more spending money! I did gain weight, but since I had always been built like Kate Moss (or Twiggy, for you older folks) it didn't matter that I put on a few pounds.

Smokers take heed to my story, and quit while you can make it worthwhile. You will never regret it!

Termite tunnels and worse.

Something I read over at WVSR prompts me to write about my discovery of termites. We had a dog who thought the dining room floor was her bathroom. For fifteen years, she peed in there, and we could not train her to do otherwise. The odor was horrible - and we never used the dining room at all. Then the dog died, and I pulled the carpet out and took it to the dump. We found termite holes and tunnels in 3 places, and the pest control company told us that we had the three best conditions for termites: we had moisture, darkness and wood, their only requirements.

After cleaning, replacing some wood, sanding and refinishing, we finally had a decent dining room again. Suddenly, entertaining loomed as a possibility; my excuse of 15 years had disappeared and I was ripe and ready for dinner parties and soirees. Too bad I don't have time to cook!

Why do men procrastinate?

Why do men wait until Valentine's Day to order flowers? It totally defies common sense, but many of them do it. I worked in a flower shop all day; making arrangements. You can't believe how many men came into the shop after 5pm looking for red roses for their wives and girlfriends. We ran out of red roses at 2 pm today, so anyone who had not placed an early order for red was out of luck (at least at our shop). It never fails that the later they come into the shop, the more money they are likely to have to spend. Guys - here's a hint for next year: order early and be sure to get what you want, with a lot less hassle at the last minute.

Belk's loss is K & S's gain

When the cafeteria at the Crabtree Valley Belk's closed, there were many disappointed people, and I was in that group. In fact, that cafeteria was just about the only reason I have even gone to Crabtree in years; it is the one place in the world where I feel claustrophobic.

But little by little, the old cafeteria staff has been appearing at the K&S behind Six Forks Station, and they are improving K&S a great deal. For about 5 years, the desserts at this K&S had tasted like paste (and had the same consistency). Tonight, as I went through the line, the pecan pie called my name. I noticed it looked different and decided to try it. Imagine my surprise when I bit into the first bite: crusty, toasted pecans on top and a wonderfully creamy, syrupy sweet inner filling! It was heavenly and an ample reward for the time spent on my feet arranging flowers for Valentine's Day. I recommend it!

I got word today that my blog has been accepted at blog of the day, and will be featured on March 23rd. They asked me to put a permanent link to their site on my blog - and I wish I could - but I don't know how to do it. I am so totally computer illiterate that I can't do much more than basic stuff. However, you can find them at:

http://theblogoftheday.com

and I hope you will check them out and see all the interesting blogs they have listed.

The aria is finished and so am I.

The fat lady sang her aria and the first load of leftovers has gone to Goodwill. I don't have the energy to haul another load now - so they will have to wait for the rest. It was fairly successful, but I think that if I divide the proceeds by the number of hours I worked to get ready for the sale it may work out to about 10 cents per hour! I am happy with the $$$ I netted and it was better than just giving it all to Goodwill, especially since you can only deduct $500 per year for donations to Goodwill.

Several people did comment on how neatly I organized everything. Maybe that is a new profession for me to consider: organizing garage sales for people. HA! There is not enough money in the prospect to make me start that! Plus, haggling gets on my nerves. When you price a $200 appliance at $20 and then someone offers you $10, it is a little insulting. Part of the problem was that the offer was made about 35 minutes into the sale and that is too early in the day to be considering cutting the prices by half. But I guess I cannot fault a person for trying. The squeaky wheel may get the grease after all!

The Fat Lady Sings Tomorrow !

The garage sale will begin at 8 am tomorrow (although we all know that people will be in the driveway well before that). Hopefully, I will be too busy to notice the cold seeping into my bones, or making so much money I don't care how cold it is.

The fat lady's concert will start at 1:00, and I for one will be very happy it is over. Whatever is left after 1 pm will be carted off to Goodwill or the dump (I promised myself!). My cats will be ecstatic; they will once again be able to lie on the tables in the garage and survey their domain, safe from the neighborhood dogs, and I will have 3 weeks to get the garage back to working order for the first flower job of the year. Hooray!

In honor of Valentine's Day and in spite of the sour poem I posted earlier, I am leaving you with a poem I always wished had been written about me:

My girl's tall with long, hard eyes
as she stands, with her long hard
hands keeping
silence on her dress, good for sleeping
is her long, hard body filled with
surprise
like a white shocking wire,
when she smiles
a long hard smile it sometimes
makes gaily go clean through me
tickling aches,
and the weak noise of her eyes
easily files
my impatience to an edge - my
girl's tall
and taut, with thin legs just
like a vine
that's spent all of its life on a
garden wall,
and is going to die. When we
grimly go to bed
with these legs she begins to heave
and twine about me,
and to kiss my face and head.

by e.e.cummings

No syrupy valentines here.......

For those of you who have lost loves, a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay:

(An antidote to all those gushy love valentine cards floating in the mail now)

"What my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain under my head till morning,
but the rain is full of ghosts tonight; that tap and sigh
upon the glass and listen for reply......

I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me a little while,
that in me sings no more."

Garage Sale Hell

Anyone who has a garage sale must be nuts, and I am included in the bunch. I have had 4-5 of them over the years, but this time I have enough junk to fill a semi. If it doesn't sell, it will take me 4 van loads to get it all to Goodwill and the dump.

Rule Number One: clean out the garage before you transfer the junk to it. I went about it all bass-ackwards this time and it has meant working longer and harder to get it organized.

Rule Number Two: Have plenty of containers (boxes or bins) to put the stuff into, so that you can quickly pull most of it out onto the driveway just after you open the garage door on the morning of the sale. I do have plenty of boxes and bins, in fact, I have so many that there is less room for the junk. You also (it goes without saying) need tables to put stuff on. If it is all in boxes, most people will not sift through it.

Rule Number Three: Whatever start time you advertise in the newspaper, be prepared to open the door one hour earlier. The last sale I had was supposed to start at 8 a.m., and by 6:30, people were parking on my street and loitering in my driveway. One woman even had the nerve to show up on Friday night. It was in the summer, and I was making last minute preparations to the junk, trying to price and make it look neat. She walked up to the garage and said "I can't come tomorrow, so I thought I'd see if you would let me see your stuff tonight." I decided she had a lot of nerve, but to turn her away might have cost me a sale - so I let her look. She turned out to be an antiques dealer who was searching for old linens. She bought almost every piece I had (which was a lot, because I was selling the contents of my parent's home), but I had not priced it yet, so I almost certainly let it go for much less than it was worth. I will not make that mistake again!

Rule Number Four: Get as many $1 bills and small change as you can; I like to have at least $100 available. You wouldn't believe how many people come to a yard sale and try to pay for a 25 cent item with a $20 bill. Make sure you have a secure way to keep the cash close to you so it won't get stolen. An apron with pockets is good. Get friends and family members to help; you must watch to see that nothing valuable is stolen. If you are busy talking to someone about a piece of junk - someone else will see that you are distracted and take the opportunity to steal.

Rule Number Five: Call your neighbors the day before to warn them about what they are up against. Garage sale aficionados will park wherever they can: in other people's driveways or yards. If you see that happen, tell the customers to move their cars and be considerate of your neighbors.

Rule Number Six: Make a pact with yourself about what you will do with stuff that does not sell. If you don't, all of it may come right back into your house and clog up all those nice clean closets you just took all the stuff from.
Besides, you need to keep those closets cleaned out so that you can fill them up with all new stuff.

Rule Number Seven: Price everything in advance. Trying to decide a price for something after someone asks about it is a sure way to cheat yourself.
And if your garage is home to stuff you don't want to sell, either move it to a safe location or cover it with sheets. Otherwise, you will spend all day telling people that your lawn mower is not included in the sale.

Rule Number Eight: Try to place like objects together; have a bin for kitchen/cooking items and one for picture frames, etc.

This is all I can think of at the moment. If you are planning to enter garage sale hell and have any questions I have not answered here, feel free to leave a comment and ..........justaskjudy!

2-9-05: I thought of something else; when you are writing the newspaper ad for the sale, take time to think of everything you want to say. I got in a hurry this time and forgot to put the start time in the ad. Fortunately, I was able to call the classifieds and add it. If you can think of a catchy line to start the ad with, you will get more attention.

How I met my birth mother..........

Some background first: the adoption was arranged by my Adoptive Mom's (hereinafter known as AM) doctor, and I was taken home within an hour of my birth. That would never happen today, of course. My AM told me when I was age 6 that I was adopted - she called itbeing a chosen child - and later on, when I was about 10-12, she told me the circumstances of my conception. I was told that my BM and BD (birth mom and dad) got married 3 days after my birth, but since she had already signed the papers, they could not get me back. BM was age 17 and BD was about 20, and in college. When I was about 33, my BD's obit was in the hometown newspaper, and AM gave it to me. That was the first time I knew their names or anything else about them. They had 2 children.

I was curious about them, as all adopted kids are, but I knew that if I ever expressed any interest in them, my AM would go nuts. She used to ask me if I had any interest in finding them, and I sort of did, but I always told her no, as I knew that was what she wanted me to say.

Years later, AM died and 10 years later, AD died. AD had married about 6 years after AM passed away. My family and I went back home for the funeral, and on the trip back to our home, I mentioned that I had the feeling during the funeral that my BM might have been there. Dad's new wife and I did not get along very well and so I had never had any interest in talking to her. But 2-3 days after I got back home, I had a very strong urge (and I mean VERY strong) to call her. I had never expected to speak with her ever again - so you realize how odd this was to me. She told me that she had something to tell me: the day that my AD's obit was in the paper, she answered the phone and a woman identified herself as my BM. She wanted to know where I was, and if it was okay for her to come to the wake and/or the funeral. Dad's wife said the only smart thing I had ever heard her say, and she told BM that she could come, but please not to speak to me or my family, since I had enough to get through with AD's death. I am so happy she said that as it was very true.

I told Dad's wife to get her phone number and address for me - and to tell BM that I would contact her when I was ready. Now here comes the really eerie part: Dad's wife told me that BM had 2 children - who had been living in the same town I live in for 10 years! It is not in the same state, either. I had not contacted BM yet, and a few days before my birthday the following year, I got a letter from her telling me that she was coming to my town and she wanted to see me. I have to say that I felt just like a deer in the headlights! There was not enough time to get used to the idea - but I called her and told her I would meet her in a local restaurant. That way, if I did not like the experience, I could leave at any time.

We did meet; my husband went with me and her daughter brought her to the restaurant. I found out that her children were adopted; after she had me, she was never able to conceive again. I felt sad about that (for her) but I was almost glad to know that I had no blood siblings. Even though I have always wanted a brother or sister, I didn't want to find or have them this way! She brought photos of herself and BD, and told me a history that bore little relationship to what my AM had told me. When BM told BD about being pregnant, he panicked and ran away and joined the Navy. He was not in college, as I had thought, but was working and saving money for college. BM's Dad and step-mom made her give me away. Supposedly, she wanted to keep me, but they said no, and she had no other choice. Then when I was 2 years old, my BD contacted BM for the first time since she told him about me, and he said "I want you to make an honest man of me". He came home on leave at Christmas, and they married. When he died, they had been together 30 years. He did eventually go to college, and she became an LPN.

I met her in 1998, and since then have visited with her 3-4 times. Her children eventually moved back to our hometown, so she has no reason to come here anymore. She started trying to put a guilt trip on me about not coming to visit her more often (it is 350 miles away) and I haven't said anything about it to her, but I hardly think she has that right, since she waited a hell of a long time to find me. Of course, she did say that she promised AM when I was born, that she would not try to contact me until both AM and AD were dead. She kept that promise, so I guess she has integrity, but it is small consolation for an adopted child to learn many years too late that she was really wanted.

The photos she brought were very interesting. She says I resemble my BD's side of the family, and that I am the spitting image of one of his sisters. That is another eerie thing, I almost went to college in Ohio where one of them lives and I lived for 5 years in Norfolk, where another brother lives. Of course, I knew nothing about it then. My son is almost identical to the photo I have of BD, even though the photo has dark contrast, you can see the resemblance. One of my daughters looks a lot like BM did when she had me. It is nice to know where those traits come from and it ws great to find out about the medical history. The only other synchronicity I can remember to say is that she and I have one trait in common:
we both do crossword puzzles in ink - and we do them everyday. How's that for genetics?

Any questions? Just ask Judy....................

The Aviator

I saw Aviator today and it was excellent, if a bit too long at 3 hours. I can't remember if he was nominated or not, but Leonardo De Caprio should win the Oscar for this performance. It is very interesting to watch Hughes's descent into mental illness and Leo does a great job showing it. Cate Blanchett is a very believeable Kathryn Hepburn and Kate Beckinsale gives good Ava Gardner. It ws an altogether good way to spend a rainy afternoon. I recommend it!

The only downside was that we found ourselves in the midst of a bunch of old ladies from one of the local "retirement" homes. They were not too distracting though, except when they swayed and tapped their feet to the bouncy 1930's music.

Here's a good quote for you:

"Strive always to reach that time when you can say:
There is not one who sins,
there is not one who suffers,
there is not one who weeps - through any act of mine".

from "Winged Pharoah" by Joan Grant

The shadow knows..............!

The Shadow was an old radio program in the 50's. The intro line was something like...."What evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows..........hahahahaha."
I was reminded of that today because of Groundhog Day. Too bad that Punxatawney Phil saw his shadow because everyone I know is ready for some spring-like weather.

Jeff at the WVSR had a line in his blog today that made me laugh. He said his dog pooped on his shadow this morning. One of the comments he got questioned Jeff on whether he was able to get the shadow clean. I snorted coffee through my nose on that one!

We have an amazing series of coincidences in my family - some would call them synchronicities - and it is eerie. I think you may be amazed by them also.

I am adopted. My first son-in-law was adopted. His mother was adopted. His mother and I both had the same surname.
My second son-in-law is adopted. His mother is adopted. (Thank God she didn't have the same surname!)
My husband's name is Jim, the 2 sons-in-law's fathers are both named Jim and the only thing they know about the 2nd son-in-law's birth father is that his name is Jim.

Don't you agree that it is an odd collection of circumstances? It boggles my mind,
but since nothing happens without purpose..........maybe someday we will be able to see why we were all "thrown" together, so to speak.

Remind me to tell you about the time I met my birth mother..........Bye for now.

The Poop Patrol?????

I was driving down the road today when a truck pulled along side at a stop light. The sign on the truck said "The Poop Patrol". I kid you not. The sign further mentioned that this company will contract to clean your yard of dog crap on a weekly basis. Can you believe that there are enough dog people with money enough to hire someone to police their yards every week? I can't believe it - but I do know a yard that needed the service badly!

Years ago there was a person in this area who was advertising her home as a rental site for weddings and parties. A bride who was getting married there hired me, and I went to the house to check it out. The woman was saying how they could have outdoor ceremonies and indoor receptions, and I was trying to walk through the yard to scope it out and about every 6 inches, there was a pile of dog poop. Now, I ask you, how many people would like to have an outdoor wedding in that mess? Not too many, because the house went off the rental market pretty quickly.

I hate when that happens.........

I am depressed, grouchy and downright mean today and my poor husband (have you noticed this is the second time I've referred to him in that way?) has borne the brunt of it. That's ONE thing husbands are good for! The weather is contributing to it; maybe I am developing "Seasonal Affective Disorder" and I just need a trip to the Caribbean to get me out of the doldrums. Too bad I can't do that every time I want to.

Business is slow this time of year - and that does not help the doldrums one bit. There are few weddings in January or February, except for those who think Valentine's Day would be the perfect anniversary. Unfortunately, it is not the best time to order wedding flowers - think of the competition! When wedding season revs up again, I will not have time to be depressed. Can't come too soon for me!

One thing that cheers me up is my book of funny names. It is "Even More Remarkable Names" by John Train. Some of his best examples are:

Aurora Borealis Belsky
Betty Burp
Buster Hymen
Cashmere Tango Obedience
Cistern Brothers
Easter Buggage
C. Matthews Dick
Constant Agony
Fairy Clutter

How do you think their mothers ever came up with those names? I would be ashamed to name my child something that will require explanation, spelling and/or laughter all the days of their lives, not to mention being made fun of in a book.

I once heard an actor on Johnny Carson talking about funny names and I wrote to him and sent him my list. His name was James Hampton, and he was most memorable for a commercial he did for the Egg Council. He answered my letter and told me that Rue McClanahan (Golden Girls) had a long list of very funny names and that I should write her. I never did, and now I have misplaced my list. Hope it turns up soon.

If you like funny names too, leave a comment and I will print some more.