Thursday, March 29, 2012


I feel my pulse quicken...My breathing becomes shallow.  My palms sweat.  I can't breathe fully.  I can't move fast enough, but it seems the world is in vertigo.  My mouth runs alternately moist and dry.  My head pounds..I can have more, it stops the pounding but the thirst and hunger only worsen.

I can drink water, it slakes the thirst but nothing cures the matter how much I just gets worse.  Then when the inevitable happens and I run out, I'm inconsolate.

The colors have tastes, the colors have smells, the colors the colors the colors!!!

It starts about mid March and lasts until at the VERY latest early April.

I am an addict.....

I am addicted to Jelly beans, Cadbury caramel eggs, Speckled Robin's eggs (malted milk balls), Bunny basket eggs, peeps, black jelly beans and several other Easter candies!!!!  I am addicted to the scent of Easter basket grass too and will often huff handfuls while filling a basket.

I've said it!!  I'm not ashamed!  I also like chocolate hollow bunnies, reese's peanut butter eggs, I miss those little green Russel Stover green coconut nests like nothing else.  I wept when they discontinued them or when they stopped carrying them or whatever....stupid candy facists!!!!

I am sitting here on the floor in my shame, surrounded by jelly beans, bunny basket eggs, speckled robin's eggs...the only reason I don't have any caramel eggs is.....I ATE THEM ALL!!!!

This time next month, you may not want to be too near me, unless you're holding...then I may frisk you for some peeps or something those bunny basket eggs!!  DARN them and their candy coated marshmallow goodness....

I need some pepto now :(

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

The Eyes

The last time I saw my Aunt Sallie I was 28.  My son was 5 months old.  I sat beside my wonderful Aunt on her sofa in the same living room I had visted when she was in the autumn of her years.  My Aunt, then well into the winter of her years welcomed my son onto her lap.  That same lap I had been welcomed to many years before.
I walked to the spot in front of the fireplace where about a quarter century before,  I had taken the cherished eyes off the headlights on my orange toy VW bug with the flower stickers on it.  I stuck them carefully on her floor.  I forget what made me do this.  I must have loved that spot very much to have shared such an important thing.  I felt the loss, especially during the spanking my grandmother gave me.
I smiled as I touched the floor.  They were no longer there, I'm sure the linoleum was different too.  I asked her how long it had taken her to scrape the eyes off.  She said " I just kept mopping, I never tried to scrape them off because I loved you so much and they reminded me of you". 
I smiled back the years and the tears which now flow freely. 
She had me pile the table high in the usual manner. My heavens it had been so long, but being at her table erased the years and the badness, the madness...all I felt was welcome and love.  She kept having me sit as she gave me directions, she stood over my shoulder as I peeled the tomatoes.  She fed my son his first pickle, of course she'd canned it.  She fed him some strawberries from her homemade strawberry pie.  He fell asleep on the floor on a pallet of a blanket she'd made.  He threw up a bit of strawberry on his outfit.  I put it straight in the dryer to set the stain and never washed it.  Memories.
We spent the night in the room which shared a wall with her bedroom.  Three of us in a double bed.  I showed my husband on instinct a thing I'd long forgotten...potatoes under the bed.  That night there was a storm.  A wonderful loud booming thunder, whip crack lighting storm.  I felt new.  I stayed awake most of the night listening for her sounds, feeling the years unfold around me. 
I snuck up and got dressed about 30 minutes before my son usually cried.I wanted to catch my sneaky Aunt in the process of trying to make us breakfast.  I lied (sort of) to my aunt.  She asked what I was doing up and I told her I was fixing a bottle that he had cried...(ok it was only a whimper). She said, as she bored into my soul with her eyes, " he's a good baby and I didn't hear that baby cry".  I confessed it was only a whimper but I wanted to head him off before he really got hungry.  I further confessed (ok a small fib) that I always wanted to cook breakfast with her, to learn how she made her biscuits so good.  I caved in under those probing eyes and further confessed that I was worried she would try to do too much for us and I really did want to know how she did it.  It was the truth so she let it fly.
I knew the recipe but not her "Aunt Sallie-ness"  I now know.  I wore her apron. I made biscuits with her, she patted my hip and told me I'd always been a big girl.  She taught me to fry her potatoes.  She fed my son his first scrambled eggs.  My Uncle Bobby and Aunt Pat came down to visit.  We hadn't seen each other in 23 years.  It was the last time I ever saw him. 
It was the last time I ever saw Aunt Sallie, but not the last time I spoke with her.
I now taste her biscuits in my mouth on really bad days.  Not the way I make them, but hers from when I was small and life was perfect.  I feel loved and comforted then. 
Some people and places make you feel like you can always go home.

Friday, March 16, 2012

To bean or not to bean.....

I used to detest all beans aside from green beans.  Specifically my Aunt Sallie's canned green beans, barring those regular green beans in the can.   I detested it when people did weird things with green beans and added sugar or something else suspicious.   Eventually more beans were forced upon me.   Black-eyed peas from the can were ok.  If pressed I would also reluctantly eat butter beans or lima beans, again without sugar and other weirdness.  I really like pork and beans.  I liked chili from the can with beans.  One magical day we (Mama and I) got either Patio or El Charrito frozen Mexican dinners.  They had odd things in them called enchiladas, and the weirdest....refried beans!?!  Mama could figure out what enchiladas were....but we didn't understand refried beans. They weren't crispy and didn't seem very fried.  Southern folk have crispy fried things.  We just didn't understand how they were fried the first time, much less refried.   I didn't care much for them at first.  I think Mama was disgusted.  TV dinners came in metal trays and there was NO escaping the metallic taste when fork or spoon scraped tray.  The metallic taste wasn't too bad, I guess we were used to it.  We decided we liked Mexican food well enough, despite the confusing beans.  Then something happened....the next time I added Louisiana red to them.  They were better!!!  I also started my love affair with spicy food then.
Soon I was flat out addicted to refried beans.  I had them with and without sour cream and cheese.  With and without jalapenos.  But always hot.  Sometimes they would taste like chili if I added some of the enchiladas or tamales to them. 
I had homemade chili after Mama died and I moved in with Mom.
My Mom made the first and best homemade chili I had ever tried.  I learned there were other toes of beans.  Pinto's, kidney's, navy's, lentils...etc.  I also learned we were supposed to ruin perfectly good cornbread by covering it with boiled beans.  I adapted, but I still prefer my cornbread and beans separated.
Later living in Pensacola FL.  I tried the mysterious Red beans and rice.  I had seen it on the Popeye's Chicken menu but always ordered dirty rice.  This time Popeye's was out, or they screwed up...(whatever)  and I ended up trying them.  They were good!  I got a Cajun cookbook and tried my hand at red beans and rice.  We had to eat them in a hotel because a hurricane was coming forcing us to evacuate.  The next time I made red beans and rice another hurricane was in the gulf and hit.  Being slightly superstitious I stopped making red beans and rice during hurricane season.  My bean cooking career started in earnest.
When we had a son and the small, trusting child would ask innocently and trustingly "What's for dinner?"  with beans on the menu,  unfailing my husband (terrible sense of humour...feel my pain) would answer "oh hundreds of good things!"  Trusting child would become all excited about this.  He soon wisened up and no longer got excited.  I blame my husband for the current level of skepticism our surly 13 year-old has.
Recently my husband nearly wept in a thrift store.  I thought it was with joy at the lovely item I held aloft.  He then gasped out, "Why?? What did they ever do to deserve that?"  I was holding this lovely serving tray:

<<<<<<Beans forever immortalized!

 Beans from New Zealand!!  Yes I've eaten foreign beans!!  >>>>>>>

<<<<<Bowl of beans!

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

You once thought of me as a white light up a tree....

Those were some of my first loudly sung misheard lyrics.  I proudly and loudly skipped my way home from high school in the mid-late 80's singing Monkees songs.  I had the same routine, old tv shows and a bowl of Kix. 
Everything could be solved with friendships and songs.  Harmless capers were good, dancing was imperative yet fun.  Little did I know that just a few blocks away a dear friend was also "taking the last train to clarksville"  we could have joined forces to celebrate our secret obsessions. 
I had fantasies of Mickey Dolenz or, (*gasp* *perish*)Davy Jones whisking me away to some magical time and place.  I would have gladly shared them with her.  We could have become roommates and lived in sin with them.
When I heard the news that Davy Jones had mind screamed 'No!'.  That means that everything in life is tenuous.  It means I'm not 16 anymore and that time waits for no one.  It means that one day all my teen heartthrobs will pass on.  It means that life is fleeting; we have to jump in with both feet, hold on with both hands and ride this baby to the end.
You once thought of me
As a white knight on a steed.
Now you know how happy I can be.
Oh, and our good times starts and end
Without dollar one to spend.
But how much, baby, do we really need.
Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
I'm still 16 with my bowl of Kix.....but now I watch my 13 year old and know his life is just beginning. 

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

just whining

I never write two blog posts in one day.  But today is no ordinary day.  I had a bad day.  Just like the song...I had a bad day...

It wasn't the worst, but it really could have been much better.
I decided to go out errand running before I picked my son up from school.  I've had an issue with dislocated ribs lately and a lot of fatigue.  I thought going out might help me.  Someone pulled into the last handicapped slot.  I cussed a bit and parked further out. I had no room to get my chair out so decided I'd be ok with the cane despite the rib issue.  I saw the person going in...I got kind of miffed.  I won't go into details, everyone has a reason why they have handicapped parking.
I finally got inside the store...things were ok, I found my malted milk balls and a sale on strawberries too!! I got the things I needed found a sale on boca burgers also a needed item and the 80 calorie wheat hamburger buns were buy one get one!! yay!!! I was doing well on time and feeling successful but getting tired.
Then I saw it...the person who cut me off for the slot, the person I was a bit ticked off with (ok really angry with) filling the basket of the store electric cart with chips, little debbie snack cakes, and other fast/processed food.  OK i'm not the food police either.  They could have Grand children right???  I stated to feel slightly (very) judgmental.  I tried to let it go, it's not my life to live and anger helps no one.

The final straw in my already straw filled judgmental evil eye was them cutting me off for the last check out lane with a real person at it, to check out my groceries.  Self check out was my only option if I wanted to pick up my darling son on time.   I don't have very good hand control at was a bad day.  Walking quads are not known for speed or finger dexterity even on a good day.  I got my groceries checked out, a lady had to come help with a bag not scanning,  I told her I needed help and she just walked away.  There were 4 people standing around at the end of these lanes.  They saw me hobbling around with a cane trying to get the stuff bagged, they also saw me crying I'm sorry to say. A lovely gentleman and his equally lovely wife came to the lane while I was trying to bag this stuff.  I looked up and said, "i'll be a minute, my hands don't work and no one will help me" he said "no problem lady take your time I have all day".  His wife said, something about waiting too long and she was going to go sit down.  The lady working self check out next to me decided to help a friend of hers bag her groceries after looking at me and ignoring me.  They chatted it up and really had a great time.  If you've never tried to open plastic bags with little finger function to put things's's harder through tears, it's harder through red faced embarrassment and much harder through a panic attack and anger.

I loudly thanked the guy for his extreme patience (tapping his foot and sighing no less) I also loudly thanked the lady bagging her friend's groceries for her help...then I headed back to my car.  I almost got hit because someone decided I wasn't making it through the crosswalk fast enough and they didn't want to stop at the stop sign to wait.

I got the groceries in the trunk.  I called my friend to let her know I was running late, to corral my son if I didn't get there on time.  I got friends boosted my mood.  Then I got back in my car to wait for my son...and wait...and wait...
I sat there for 30 minutes waiting.
He had taken the bus home despite me reminding him I was picking him up (normal routine, the bus is a rarity in the afternoon.) I needed that time with my girlfriends it's the one really bright spot in my day.  My friend time, my normal time.

He called to ask where I was.  I was nearly home by this time and angry.  He had no key, he had no cell phone, there is some bully jerk at school threatening him with a knife...I was worried, I was scared, I was feeling my disability, I was feeling so much and I was spent emotionally.  I don't really think much about what's going on with me as far as labels, but certain days I do feel disabled, or different, today I really felt different, alone and adrift and I was angry that no one seems to care or help anyone. I've raised my son differently and I hope that somehow people who help others, slow down and see the world around them somehow save this world.  I needed a light today and the only light I had were my friends and I love them so much for being my light, my laughter in the tears and my strength in weakness.

The last song I heard in the car today was Stronger by Kelly Clarkson ....I felt stronger, but I still needed a good cry before I felt stronger.  I am stronger but have my moments.....


I never never never thought in my wildest preteen and early teen life that I would be swearing at inanimate objects on a regular basis, shaking inanimate objects and expecting them to work better or fighting with my own body for possession of movement.

How how how can a computer just all of a sudden decide it doesn't want to be connected to the internet even though nothing has changed?  Some stupid screen flashes telling you it's safe to unplug something and won't go away, I click it then all of a sudden the wireless receiver is no longer plugged in even though it's still plugged in.  I didn't ask it to not do wireless receiving things.  I didn't say, "gee you poor wireless usb thingy, please rest now and no longer leave me connected"  I didn't agree to time off or a vacation day.  I just decided to stop.  I unplugged it and plugged it back in again.
When my darling teenage son was 2 or three he had a screaming hissy fit to "UNPLUG IT AND PLUG IT BACK IN AGAIIIIIIIN!!" about his nightlight.  I now use that tactic when things are just not computing right.  It worked and online banking was saved! Yay.
Now onto the cell phone.  I have the lovely data plan.  I am often seen standing there shaking the stupid phone like it's an etch a sketch.  I'm not sure why I do this.  Maybe I'm hoping the ashes of the damned living in my etch a sketch phone will somehow contact an ethereal presence and make my phone do phone things faster.  Either that or it's a recessive trait that we shake things to make them work.
While this is going on my body is rebelling at doing the things it should do, such as move forward at the same pace.  After careening into a table shaking my phone I have decided I can't do two things at once.  I've known for a year I can't do two things at once.  I yell at my son for his intelligent response "I fergot" yet here is Mommy trailblazing through the kitchen and falling into things because she "fergot"

Stupid computer!!!

What price sanity???

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Red faced

The things we do for friends sometimes embarrass us in ways that ultimately force growth and a new awareness on us.
I've been blessed with some amazing friends this past year.  Friends who've lit a winding rutted out path for me.  My path is fairly easy in the scheme of the wild and beautiful rainbow that is life.  I can't name names at the risk of leaving someone out.  I treasure so many of you!  I'm sorry I met many of you the way I did, but so grateful you're in my life, if only for a while.  I hope we make the most of each other and don't leave things unsaid.  I read a story about a Blogger who decided life was no longer worth living.  My heart ached for her.  I felt bad that she didn't have friends to torture with bad song links, friends to laugh with over body malfunctions, friends to virtually hug and hold her hand, friends so deeply entrenched even though they might never meet. Friends you love enough to embarrass yourself for by sharing things you wouldn't just to make them laugh or smile.
That's what so many of you have become to me.  The friends I can tell things to, the friends who know I get blue but don't see it.  The friend who lowers my guard so I end up sending silly recorded songs and or readings to (bless your ears my dear)  The friends who laugh with and about body malfunctions and send me sleuthing.  The friends who assure me I will survive the teens with a son alive.
I will embarrass myself anytime for loved ones like you!  I might be red faced with nerves at first but soon the nerves give way to tears of laughter, then we're both red faced.....thank you my zany, creative, cuddly, smiling, Skype-ing, pantsless, wobbling, rolling, limping, dancing, and all together normal friends and family.