Archive | December, 2008

The Ghost Strikes Again…

31 Dec

We have a ghost in my house.  Well, not a real ghost, but the fictitious one who is always losing things, or breaking things, or just generally creating a hassle for someone else to deal with.  You know, the things that happen that “nobody did”. 

Well, I must admit, the ghost stuck again (this time I’m going to blame something on him, dang it!).  I ordered a cool techie toy for Christmas on December 7, and got a great deal – it was on sale, and it came with a $50 rebate.  Cool, I said to myself (probably prematurely).  I printed the rebate  and put it in a safe place – on my weekly mail stack, where else?  Anyway, I saved the damn thing for three weeks until I’d opened my techie toy box, and activated my techie toy, and was ready to mail it in, except ….

Yep, you guessed it, the ghost had misplaced the form. 

Don’t know about you, but this aggravates the hell out of me.  I always love having to search through the entire house, looking for something you can see in your mind’s eye.  It’s just that your real eyes can’t see it anywhere (and unfortunately when you’re looking for a rebate form, that’s what counts). I went through every piece of paper I owned, and the  multitude of stacks in which they reside.  No rebate form.

And my recycle sack (in which I stick my weekly mail-trash) was crammed inside a thousand other pieces of paper, and Christmas wrapping, and a jillion flattened boxes strapped together with duck tape.  It was a mountain of recycled trees!

Of course, I went through every piece, only to discover that my mail recycle sack was not stuffed somewhere inside.  I surmised that it must have gotten mixed up with the regular trash, and been hauled away on Monday.  AAAAAGGGHHHH!

I again searched the house and file cabinets, and re-searched, until I just couldn’t take it any longer.  Then emailed Amazon for a copy of the rebate form.

Ping!!  It was waiting for me in my email this morning.  (And believe me – I’ve saved it several different places).  I guess I just could have waited on the reply from Amazon before knocking my brain out trying to find it, but ….

Apparently I have a compulsive side as well.

Hopefully this misadventure is not a sign of the middle age thing!

A Cool Blog to Browse…

30 Dec

I happened upon a cool blog today, created by Donna Miller.  I enjoy her sense of humor and I think you will too (oh yeah, she’s a reader!!).  Check her out – her site is below.

http://readanygoodbooks.wordpress.com/

I know what you’re going through.

29 Dec

One of my friends is with her father this morning, waiting for him to pass away.  Holding his hand and saying good-bye, just like I did in June.  Hopefully, he is able to hear her, as mine was not.  Hopefully, he is able to feel her last touch, as mine was not. 

Hopefully he can hear the words “I love you” one last time.

Waiting for the machines to stop, waiting for the breaths to stop.  Waiting, and wondering what will come next.  And how you’ll be able to get through the days without him.

We know death is always  waiting around the corner, but that knowledge doesn’t lessen the pain.

I’m saying my prayers for you.

Does it mean you’re middle-aged when….?

28 Dec

…you buy a new vacuum with your Christmas money??

(But I’ve always liked electronics!)

Spontaneous Crying

27 Dec

Just a few thoughts that hit my brain this morning:

Have you ever felt so fragile that the slightest thing turns the waterworks on?  You’re filled with joy one minute and crying the next?

I was opening gifts with my husband last night (yes, he and I usually save ours and open them in peace and quiet, instead of the crazy house we call our home on Christmas morning – it drives the kids CRAZY), when I unwrapped one of his gifts to me.  It was the dress that I thought I’d returned because I just didn’t think it was flattering enough when I tried it on (for some reason, dresses look great on the size 4 mannequins, but when I try my size (  ) on……UGGGGH!!).  He had been given the job of taking the return package to the post office for me, but had wrapped it for me instead.  He said I looked beautiful in it (bless him) and wanted me to put it on (at midnight in the family room, no less).   My twenty-year-old son then comes into the room, seeing me wearing a dress when I’d just been wearing jeans, and said, “What the……?  You look like an 80-year-old woman ready to go to church!”

And what can you say to that?   Nothing.  So crying was the next best thing.  Add my son’s comments to the fact that my husband bought me a larger size of sweaters (which I noticed, and obviously he had noticed, and I was happy he noticed, but not happy I needed the larger size).  Then you have a waterfall!

One good thing about it – I made my son feel VERY, VERY GUILTY (and it’s always nice to make a young adult who’s fairly spoiled feel a little guilty for a change – makes them appreciate you more! – so that was fun).

Another thing I do need to add to my list of what should make me cry (but didn’t, I’m happy to say) – a sweet thing.  My seven-year-old son dictated a letter to Santa on Christmas Eve, which I, as mother, dutifully wrote down for him.  However, later I saw his letter sitting on the hearth, but it had a staple in the corner, and the word “turn” with an arrow, pointing to the back.  The addendum was entitled “What I Really Want for Christmas” .  Included on it was the Gorilla he wanted to help  because they are being killed in the wild (of course, being in a cage would not be the best help we could give it, but he didn’t quite get that).  But then his major request was for a picture of the girl at school he likes.  He also asked Santa to please come up with a few questions to subtly ask her if she liked him as well, with “yes” or “no” answers to circle.

So I guess love won out over toys, and video games, and all the other junk we get.  Yes, this is enough to turn the tears on again. 

Just remember – Spontaneous Crying is really, really good, cheap therapy.  (And you don’t have to get the insurance company involved).

Merry Christmas! Please take my Santa poll.

24 Dec

Merry Christmas to all!   (No, I’m not a plagiarist, I swear!)

Please let me know your vote on the following important questions.  Thanks!

. 

Quote of the Year…(and possibly of the century!)

24 Dec

    You’re not crazy;  you’re just unique.

(Perfect!!)

Fatherless This Christmas…

23 Dec

Six months ago,  if someone would have told me that I wouldn’t have my Dad much longer, I would have laughed – he’ll live to be two-hundred, maybe even three.  Six months ago, my Father was nagging me about getting him the manuscript for The Cuckoo’s Cry, which had already been delayed…and delayed…and delayed.  He was going to be one of my editorial critics (he truly believed in me).  Six months ago on Sunday, I promised him I’d FEDEX  the draft within  a week.  Six months ago on Tuesday, he was dead.

My Dad was a little hard to get along with; and I must say, I have to admit to the claim of being almost just like him.  The rest of my family totally agrees (believe me – this is both a good thing and a not-so-good thing).  But as you can guess, my Father molded me into the person I am today – fiercely independent, and outspoken, yet deeply concerned about humanity’s path, and those who can’t do for themselves.  He was a psychiatrist – the real, listening-and-I’ll-talk-you-through-it kind;  the kind you can hardly find anymore.  And as an added bonus, he was really funny (crude sometimes, but funny nonetheless).

And he still liked to call me “kid.”

On Sunday, I promised him the manuscript would be in the FEDEX box very, very soon.  On Tuesday, I was frantically driving two hours to the hospital where they’d finally cleared his throat after not getting oxygen for almost an hour-and-a-half.  He had choked to death.

They had him hooked up to a ventilator, and tubes, and whatever else that keeps a body alive when the soul has already departed.  Just until they could run tests and know for sure.  But I knew he was already gone.  One day there – to make me laugh and call me “kid” and tell me I was the slowest writer in the universe;  two days later gone from my life.

So I sit here in my office every day, looking at his cushy, green armchair next to my desk.  The one that could accomodate his size, that he sat in every single weekday, having not had a sick day in 37 years, listening to his patients and helping them sift through their problems, throwing in humor along the way.  I see it every day, and wish that one day when I open the door, he’ll be there, just to say “Hi”.  At least once.

When we were little, Dad had convinced us that Santa was tired of just eating cookies and milk, and he would much prefer a Big Mac, fries, and a Diet Dr. Pepper.  So that’s what we left on the mantle – real food for the already fat man in red.

This is the first Christmas he won’t be here, reading The Night Before Christmas from the little red book with the padded cover that we got when I was eight.

My Dad loved cold weather;  he loved Christmas (guess that’s where I get it from). And he loved to say “Bah, Humbug!”.

Merry Christmas, my kindred spirit!  I miss you!

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You Suspect You’re Middle Aged When…

21 Dec

… you are really, really tired, and you fall asleep at 9:30 when you’ve gone to a fancy hotel with your husband for your 28th wedding anniversary.  But we had fun anyway!  (What can I say – I guess I have to admit – I AM MIDDLE-AGED!)  I will accept that fact gracefully (and take a nap later today).

Thank You AMCV!

21 Dec

I also want to thank a fellow author who posts his writing on AuthorNation – A Man Called Valance (AMCV – he loves Westerns!).  He has continually read my posts (from The Cuckoo’s Cry – chapter by chapter).  And he has consistently given me enouragement.  Can’t tell you how much this means, AMCV!  Thanks again!

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