Random Honest Scrap

Many, many thanks to Lori of Tiny Little Reveries for bestowing a wonderful blog award upon me on February 18th. I have had a couple before and totally forgot to acknowledge/thank and follow the instructions (probably because I am likely a bad case of adult ADD.) This time I decided I needed to be a good girl and do what I'm told and maybe focus...yeah, good luck with that one.

This is the Honest Scrap award, which means that I have to write 10 interesting, random facts about me. Really? I'm not sure I can come up with one intersting, random fact about me but I will try. I'll try for some that you, my beautiful blog world sweeties, don't already know.

Here goes nothing:

1) I am technically an identical twin. Allegedly. When I was 17 and had my first gynecological exam, I was diagnosed with a huge cyst on my ovary. It was so big that it was pressing on other organs and causing major problems with bladder infections and intenstinal stuff. The cyst contained hair, teeth, sweat glands, bones, etc...Apparently, it's not an unusual thing. In some schools of medicine they believe it is an absorbed twin. Anyway, I thought it was gross. It was removed right before my 18th birthday. My dad thought it was cool and called it my "cyst-er." Get it?

2) I am 1/64th Blackfoot Indian, descended from Jemimah Boone, wife of Daniel.

3) I have a severe and paralyzing fear of heights. At any moment all I have to do is think about being high on top of a mountain or somewhere super high and I will feel vertigo and severe panic coming on. I went to Bryce Canyon in Utah (beautiful) but when the wall disappeared on either side of me down a hiking trail and either side jutted down (what seemed like) hundreds of feet, I froze and could not go on. I had to crawl back up the hill on my hands and knees to get back. I went to the car and read a book. Needless to say, flying is not my favorite thing.

4) I spent one summer in my teens in Eagle River, Alaska, with my Aunt and her family. It's the coolest vacation I've ever been on. I'm thankful to my Grandma (who just turned 84 on Monday) for making the trip possible. She sent me during a time of some family turmoil and I really needed it.

5) A couple years ago I ran into Jack Kevorkian (aka Dr. Death) on the streets of Royal Oak, MI. I was with another blogger, K. of Mind the Gap. She took my picture with him. And yes, he was wearing the famous blue sweater (in the summer.) And he was a lovely man who was very gracious about having his picture taken with me. What a tiny little man! Those hunger strikes really worked!

This is hard!

6) I used to sing lead in an 80's/90's rock tribute band called Moneyshot (don't blame me, the rest of the band was a bunch of guys and they all unanimously picked the name.) We specialized in hair bands. My favorite songs to belt out were 18 & Life by Skid Row or Kiss Me Deadly by Lita Ford.

7) When I do things - whether it be housework or work-work, I work in very rapid, very efficient bursts of energy. I cannot do one thing for a very long time. Which is making this list of 10 hard for me. Some might call this ADD. I call it genius.

8) I am a Golden Girls savant. I can tell you anything you could possibly want to know, or maybe not want to know, about those gorgeous ladies of Miami. It's not normal, but it's me. I watch them on my 7 season DVD collection every single night and have done so for almost three years straight. Miami is nice - so I'll say it thrice....

Seriously, I am not that interesting of a person. Let me try to squeak out two more.

9) I was such a goody two-shoes when I was in high school that the local newspaper actually published an editorial that I sent in criticizing a comic strip for the use of the word "hell"....for real? What a friggin' dork!

10) Though I am not the least bit religious, I am trying to give up swearing for Lent because I think it's probably a good idea to cut down and act more like a lady. A friend of mine informed me the other day that I should give up something I like. I informed her that I LOVE swearing. I love it very much. Is that wrong? I think it's funner than a sonnofa...pup.

Now I get to share this blog award love with 7 other bloggers. Some of you may have already gotten this, so if you don't want to acknowledge it, no prob. Here are my picks:

1. Brenda at Mummytime - because she is hilarious and I love her little Australian bootay.
2. Pampers & Pinot - Great new blog that I just discovered.
3. Natural Girl - my pal from New Zealand. I guess I'm a sucker for a cool accent.
4. Momma's Gone City - my NY, west coast transplant fav
5. The Ida'vases - great, honest scrap!
6. If Mom Says Ok - Tara always rules!
7. Mountain Momma - exceptionally honest scrap....love this woman!

Phew! Ok, enjoy!

When He's Sick

It's amazing when my kid is sick how my mind floods with memories of my own childhood. Being sick and being alone. That's what I remember. There was the time I had the chicken pox and had to stay with Connnie, the evil bitch babysitter from hell. That was no fun. Imagine having chicken pox and having no one there who wants to hold you and tell you it's all going to be ok. She would put me in the bathtub at 4 years old and leave me there until the water was cold and I shivered.

I can recall another time with a different babysitter (whose name I can't remember) and I was throwing up. This woman was so grossed out by the vomit that she was complaining when my puke ended up on the floor and she had to clean it. She made me clean some of it myself. No hugs or rubbing my back. I think I was maybe 5 or 6. Can't remember exactly.

So for me it is a priority when my kid is sick that I am with him the entire time. I don't feel comfortable having him with anyone else but me because I feel like no one can give him the love and attention that I, as his mother, can give him. Today we're home sick because he threw up in bed last night. He woke up today acting fine and probably could have gone to day care. But just in case, he needed to stay home with his mom and get hugs and kisses and lots of attention. He will always feel comforted when he's sick. Always.

A Post About My Dad

This post is about my dad. He died eleven years ago this very evening at Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit from complications following cancer surgery. He was 52 years old. The older I get, the younger I realize that is. His death was a huge blow to me. Did I know it was coming. Yes. I knew. Even though nobody else semi-close to us really knew, I knew because I took him to the doctor all the time. I took him to the emergency room at least once every couple of weeks toward the end. I knew. Still, it was hard. I was 25 years old and I lost the best friend I ever had.

I still want to see him. Put my head on his shoulder. Hug him. Talk to him. Oh, how I would love to talk to him. He had a way of making me feel like we were equals and not really like father and daughter. We were friends. We talked about everything. Well, almost everything. Ok, so he would get uncomfortable when we watched TV and a tampon commercial would come on. Actually, most times he would leave the room. Aside from that kind of stuff we talked about everything.

I would be remiss if I talked about my dad as though the sum of who he was involved the six years that he fought a rare form of pancreatic cancer. There were things about him that were funny and charming and, though he could be a quiet guy, he was a kick to be around most times. I have some stories I would like to share. Some of you may have heard some of these, others maybe not. At any rate, they bear repeating. Without further ado, some random memories about my dad.

My dad was obsessed with getting a savage tan. In the summers, he spent all of his time (and I mean ALL) wearing a 1970's short-shorts bathing suit. No shirt. Flip flops. He claimed that it was nice to just wear a bathing suit because the underwear was built in. Eeeew...thanks Dad, couldn't done without that piece of information.

To match perfectly with his tan and bathing suit ensemble, dad would wear a gold rope chain necklace on which he had an Italian horn charm. Very cute, Dad. Lovely. I truly believe that it was much to his chagrin that he only had a very small patch of chest hair. I believe he would have gladly rocked an oh-so-70's hair sweater.

Ok, so in keeping with the above theme, once my dad decided it would be a great idea to experiment with ways to accelerate his tan. He had tried baby oil and it worked great so he decided to take it up a notch. Peanut oil. What a brilliant idea! Dad rubbed peanut oil all over his body and decided to do outside and cut the grass. Half way through the job, I heard dad exclaim, "oh shit, I'm burning..." He came flying through the door like a flash and headed straight for a cold shower. You see, if you know anything about peanut oil you know that it just keeps cooking. That's why people use peanut oil to cook Thanksgiving turkeys. The oil just keeps penetrating. So maybe not such a great idea after all, Dad.

Until the end, my dad would puff up his cheek so I could kiss it and make all the air blow out his mouth. So, I got to do that with my dad until I was 25.

Dad called my childhood dog, Muffin, my sister. When he felt like I hadn't seen him in a while, he would call me and say that my sister was missing me.

The first time I ever danced with a man, it was with my dad and I stood on top of his feet. I sure wish I could do that now. Of course, if I did it now I would crush his feet.

So, as I said, my dad was my total BFF. After all this time he enters my mind every single day. Sadly, he never got to meet my husband in person. I met my now hubby about 3 months before Dad died. He was invited to have dinner with us but he was studying for his law school exams. I know it is one of his biggest regrets.

A couple of weeks after my dad died my brother, my hubby and I were at my dad's house cleaning some things out. We came across my Dad's old brown bomber jacket. When hubby saw it, he turned white as a sheet and asked me if that was my Dad's jacket. I said, "well, of course it's his jacket." He then told me that he'd had a dream a few nights after my Dad's death. In it we were at an intersection. I was on one side, my dad on the other, hubby on another. He said that my Dad was wearing that very jacket in the dream. (and I assure you that my hubs is not one to exaggerate.) A jacket that my hubby had never, ever seen before because he'd never actually met my Dad. My Dad crossed the street and told him that he was handing me over to him now and that he wanted him to take care of me. And he has been taking care of my ever since. That would not be the only time Dad would visit in dreams, but it was the only time he visited my hubby in dreams. It's been a while but I sure would love for him to come and see me in one of mine again. Even if he is wearing that damn bathing suit.

More Random Crapola

I am SO bad! I have not had much motivation to keep up with Twitter and Blogging and barely the energy to keep up with Facebook. And then here is the real question – is that bad? Is it bad that I am so wrapped up in my REAL life that I have lost the passion to keep up with my virtual one? Well, ok, I haven’t lost the passion exactly. Otherwise I would not be preparing this entry. But I just needed a little break. But the downside to that is that my peeps – those of you who read this blog – are missed. You are the only reason that I keep this up. I have developed a fondness for this huge group of people that I have never even met. How weird is that? What would I do if I could not read about Brenda at Mummy Time going batshitcrazy? Or reading some more Thought Vomit, courtesy of (Jen) Huckdoll? Or catching up with a few people that I actually know in real life, like K. at Mind The Gap? It’s been MONTHS since I have actually seen her and I miss her terribly. If life would just slow down a little…. But then I remember that it’s actually cool to have the blogging and the Tweeting and the Facebooking…otherwise we may lose touch and that would just plain suck.

Ok, enough of my bellyaching. Since a wee bit of time has passed - you guessed it, time to be random yet again. Here I go....

First off - my belief system. Someone asked me this week about my beliefs and was shocked when I did not profess to be a Christian. I guess because I'm not Jewish and I'm not Muslim then I MUST be a Christian. Right? Now listen, people...I think Christianity can be a beautiful and powerful religion. I've even dabbled in it myself. But I also think it can be destructive and volatile. And I kind of think that about just about every religion there is. They are all beautiful and frightening. I take what I like and toss what I don't and never take any of it too seriously. My bottom line is, I have no idea what happened over 2,000 years ago or more. And you know what, I'm not gonna act like I do. If you want to do that, be my guest. I will respect your beliefs. Now, can you please respect mine? I love the IDEA of going to church and having a community...but just without all the Jesus and sinner junk. But no thanks, I am not into self-deprication if there is no humor in it. I don't want to feel guilty all the time about being a shithead sinner. I know, I know, I'm totally hellbound. Cheers. See ya there! (Actually I think quite the contrary, but pray for me anyway. Prayer can only be a good thing. XO)

Hmmm....I'm on a roll. Hope I didn't lose any readers but if I did, at least I know where we stand and I'll wish you well. I am who I am. Ok, next topic.

My friend who writes this fantastic blog called Rants and Raves of a Lunatic posted about Howard Stern possibly being on American Idol. I have to tell you that is the one thing that would get me to watch. Now, before you go and unfollow me for this one, hear me out. I like people who are REAL. 100% real. And I don't think there are too many people who are as real as Howard Stern. I used to listen to his show every day before he moved to Sirius. For those of you who only know him by reputation, don't hate. There are some really wonderful qualities in this guy. Yeah, he has a perverted mind. But he is totally up front about it. That I admire. And when it comes down to it, most of us have a lot of crap going on in our noggins that we never share with anyone. Not even in our lovely little blogs. Much better than my former choice for president John Edwards, who has totally disgusted me beyond belief. His wife is dying of cancer and he's getting a little strange on the side. Totally unforgivable. Especially since it took him two years to man-up and admit that he is the father of that baby.

Ok, next topic. Back to mommy-hood...my favorite topic by far.

My son is the most adorable little stinker on the planet. He's getting to that age where he has such a funny little sense of humor now. He's just a little man. Oh, and his favorite music is Madonna. Have I mentioned this before? He LOVES her. To the point where we get in the car in the morning and if there is anything else on the radio but 'donna (as he calls her), he says, "Mommy, fick the mugag" (translation - fix the music.) By "fix" he means that he wants 'donna. So yesterday when I was dropping him off at day care I said to Bam-Bam, "Tell Miss Jodi what kind of music you like." He looked at her square in the face and such pride and shouted, "I yike 'donna!" I clarified that he was talking about Madonna and all of the ladies in the place just started cracking up. Too cute. In case you're wondering his favorite songs are Vogue and Justify My Love. That's my boy.

The other day I was flipping through the channels and landed on (of all things) Cribs. I've never watched an entire episode from start to finish and this was no exception. It was some rapper guy and his gorgeous wife and they were showing off their kitchen. What a super cute kitchen, I thought. It was painted lemon yellow. I excitedly informed the hubby that we MUST paint the kitchen this color. He looked at me like I was retarded (and no, I will not stop using that word...I don't mean it in a mean way so get over it.) We finally compromised and went with a color called "Bicycle Yellow." Well, he had the day off yesterday and he did the painting and oh.my.god....NOOOOOOOOO! It looks bad. Really bad. It's like someone colored my walls with a neon yellow highlighter. Oops, my bad. You see, I failed to note that the rest of our kitchen is woefully out of date so it looks like a goddamn disaster. In order to keep this color, we would need to replace the countertops, at the very least paint the cabinets another color and change out our stove and microwave for sure. Great excuse to re-do the kitchen, right? Wrong. We live in suburban Detroit. Need I say more. You never know when you're going to need some extra money. We can't be spending all that money on our kitchen. Especially when our property values have dropped by about 50% in the last two years. Yeah, the walls are getting re-painted. That's the end of that phase.

So, my lovelies....that's all I have in me for now. This weekend will be filled with a bunch of busy running around. My least favorite kind of weekend. Nonetheless I am thankful to have it. And to have all of you who love me just the way I am. (Or not if you unfollowed me.) Safe journeys, people. XO