Letters From Heaven Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely, but rather to skid in sideways yelling "YAHOO! What a ride!"
"When I am no longer here and can not comfort you or touch you or wipe away your tears, remember that my soul will gently caress your heart through the soft breezes of springtime."
P. Schultz
Okay, so I've had two days of quiet (except for the dog barking at every little sound) and I still have a list of things I want to get done before Tom gets home tomorrow evening.
I spent the first day enjoying the feel of the TV remote in my hands. Of course, now that I have complete control of that 50"-super-plasma-flat-screen-majesty-that-every-man-in-america-dreams-of, there is absolutely nothing interesting to watch. Go figure.
There's nothing on the to-do-list that is extreme. They're all small things, such as organize the garage, give the dog a bath, finish organizing the computer room, scan old pictures ... easy-breezy little tasks.
Somehow though, I just can't get motivated enough to spend several hours in a 200 degree garage putting together a shelving unit and figuring out what goes on which shelf.
The dog bath is another story however.
Angel loves to swim in the pool. I can't swim alone. She has to "help" me. As soon as I push off from the side and head to the other end, she jumps into the water (well, she doesn't "jump" ... she walks down the stairs) and her little legs start dog-paddling like crazy. When she catches up with me, she climbs up into my arms wanting to be held, all the while her little paws still paddling away.
This sounds really cute, I know. But remember, Angel is a 60 pound lab-retriever mix.
And she hates baths.
Now I'm thinking, why not just douse her with doggy-shampoo while I've got her in the pool, right? It's like a huge bath tub anyway.
Wrong. Doggy-shampoo and chlorine do not mix well. It's not a chemical reaction. It's trying to dunk a 60 pound dog covered with slick, soapy, shampoo, who is convinced that you are trying to drown her and all she wants to do is get away and hide.
**FLASH** My father, welding something on the side of an old pickup, my sister sitting on the top of the pickup rail, the welding tank exploding ...
**FLASH** Standing at the top of a double, spiral staircase overlooking a grand ballroom, my father standing in the doorway, telling us not to slide down the banisters ... just as we did ...
**FLASH** Seeing the baseball bat coming straight at me, hitting me in the mouth, crying as I ran inside to my mother, being picked up by the giant, red-haired doctor that made house-calls and promised me that I was not going to die ...
**FLASH** My father beating the crap out of my step-brother and his friend because they took me into town at 10:00 at night to get a milkshake and my father thought they had evil intentions ...
**FLASH** My stepmother handing me the wool coat on a hot summer day and telling me it was my turn to mow the half-acre front yard ...
**FLASH** Running inside a new house and being greeted by a huge, fluffy, gray cat ...
**FLASH** Skinny dipping in the lake with mythree best friends and hearing a whistle high up on the rocks ...
**FLASH** Sitting on the hood of a maroon corvette and daring the guy that owned it to tell me to get off ...
**FLASH** Walking down the aisle with the guy that owned the maroon corvette ...
**FLASH** Heaving up my guts for three weeks in a dark, rank hotel room in Rapid City and realizing it wasn't the flu ...
**FLASH** Waking up in the middle of the night on a dark highway outside of Rawlings, Wyoming and knowing that I was having a miscarriage ...
""FLASH** Hearing the doctors say I had lost a lot of tissue and it was my choice to either terminate the pregnancy or continue and responding that I would keep my baby ...
**FLASH**Two months early, three hours of labor, one big push and my baby girl took over every beat of my heart.
It was my worst subject in school and I avoided it like the plague. Oh, I took all the prerequisite math courses - the ones required for graduation - but to voluntarily sign up for anything math related, forget it.
Which makes it pretty ironic that I ended up in a career in accounting. I never have figured out just how I managed to become a Senior Project Accountant and a Project Analyst, and I can only attribute it to the advent of computers. If i had to rely solely on using my head and my fingers, I would have been in trouble a long, long time ago.
Which is why, when this was sent to me in an email, I could fully relate to it. Ma and Pa Kettle's math makes perfect sense to me. It's much more logical than all that other crap they teach you in algebra or calculus or trig.
Heck, using this math, even I could have been an engineer!
1. Jim Baker and Jimmy Swaggert have written an impressive new book together. It's called "Ministers Do More Than Lay People."
2. Transvestite: A guy who likes to eat, drink and be Mary.
3. The difference between the Pope and your boss...the Pope only expects you to kiss his ring.
4. My mind works like lightning. One brilliant flash and it is gone.
5. The only time the world beats a path to your door is if you're in the bathroom.
6. I hate sex in the movies. Tried it once. The seat folded up, the drink spilled and that ice, well, it really chilled the mood.
7. It used to be only death and taxes were inevitable. Now, of course, there's shipping and handling, too.
8. A husband is someone who, after taking the trash out, gives the impression that he just cleaned the whole house.
9. My next house will have no kitchen - just vending machines and a large trash can.
10. A blonde said, "I was worried that my mechanic might try to rip me off. I was relieved when he told me all I needed was turn signal fluid."
11. I'm so depressed. My doctor refused to write me a prescription for Viagra. He said it would be like putting a new flagpole on a condemned building.
12. My neighbor was bit by a stray rabid dog. I went to see how he was and found him writing frantically on a piece of paper. I told him rabies could be cured and he didn't have to worry about a Will. He said, "Will? What Will? I'm making a list of the people I want to bite."
13. Definition of a teenager? God's punishment for enjoying sex.
14. As we slide down the banister of life, may the splinters never point the wrong way!
After reading sister-friend Stephanie's recent post about the Hollish language, I couldn't help but think about some of our travels.
As I've mentioned before, driving across the country with sister-friend was a real experience. There were numerous times we would be cruising along, watching the scenery, enjoying each other's company and suddenly, she would wake up, wipe off the window sludge, and yell "Pissarooni!"
Well, that definitely was a clue that we needed to stop ... soon. Occasionally, it was due to her need for one of those tampoon things but more often than not, it was just the pissarooni. However it never failed that once we were back in the car, heading back out on the highway, I would look at her and have to give a subtle reminder to hook up that trappy thing. And after I ran over a few braille bumps, she got the message.
One evening in New Orleans, we were standing in a crowded bar listening to people make fools of themselves singing on a stick, and trying to carry on an intelligent conversation above all of the flabbity-blab. No sooner had we finally snagged a table than some drunk wobbled over and tried to push his way in.
"Hey! Smally-up!" he warbled, sloshing his beer and spitting something out of his mouth on to the floor.
At this point, we decided it was time to make our exit. As we got up to leave, my left foot decided not to follow the rest of my body! I was adhickled! The drunken bozo had spit a huge wad on gum right under my left foot! After much anti-adhickling, I finally managed to remove my shoe, and hobbled outside.
I remember it was a warm, autumn evening and as we made our way back to the hotel, the sound of those outside dongy-things ringing in the air and the fragrant smell of fluffers invading our senses, we both looked at each other and almost in unison, said "Damn! I am so flabberbaffled! Where in the hell are we, anyway?"
Somehow, we actually managed to drive all the way from California to Maine without getting lost once.
"... Had it been a real emergency, you would have been directed to your local ..." okay, I'm only kidding.
It isn't really a test. I had my test yesterday and after half an hour of listening to a bunch of b.s. and inane excuses, I don't care to repeat it. At least not for myself. I will however, repeat it for all of you.
Brother Allan (yeah, that again) actually returned a phone call after I sent him a message. I'm sure he probably thought I was going to tell him when my flight was arriving - in fact, that was the first thing he asked ... HA! Sure fooled him! Instead, I began blasting him about not keeping his word on that Trust issue.
See if you can pick the actual excuses he gave me:
A. "This is different from when Uncle Joel died. He was like a father to us."
B. "Robin gave us her word that she would share and then she didn't."
C. "I have to put my kid through four years of college and that's going to cost me $20,000 a year."
D. "I thought you were living with your boyfriend and he made a lot of money so you didn't need anything."
E. "Well, we never actually sat down and made any agreement."
F. "I don't even know how much more I'm going to get."
G. "I don't know what you want me to do."
H. "The Trustees told me they gave you $XX,000 so I didn't think you still wanted me to send you anything."
I. "I don't know how much you want."
J. "I'm just a selfish asshole and I never planned to actually do anything."
K. All of the above
If you picked K - "All of the above", you would be wrong.
Know what I really hate? Okay, "Hate" is such a strong word ... Know what I really dislike?
I really dislike anger. Anger is such a waste of time. It's a waste of energy. Anger makes you unhappy, unpleasant, ugly and just downright mean,
Anger takes up too many brain cells; it creates tension in your muscles; it makes your eyebrows furrow and you lips mush together; it makes your hair follicles stand on end and turns your ears red; Anger makes people look really strange. And ugly.
Not only that, anger can destroy the best relationships in the world. It can make you retaliate against someone in ways that you would never think of if you weren't angry. It can make you resentful and, if carried with you for a long time, it can make you loose precious moments ... moments that can never be recaptured.
Moments that will eventually be lost forever. When suddenly, it's too late to take back the anger, you realize what you've missed. What you will never be able to regain.
SO ... in the words of the great wizard:
"Drizzle, drazzle, drozzle, drome ... time for this one to come home!"
I was sitting outside under the patio cover, the ceiling fan providing just the right amount of cool wind to push the heat back. I was admiring the numerous pots of flowers surrounding the pool, the crystal clear water sparkling in the sun and the bright red cardinals enjoying a snack at the bird feeder,
Life was good. After several months of decorating and planting, the yard was complete. The interior was also looking good and everything had finally found a place in this new home we had created in our little corner of the world.
When I heard Tom's car pull into the garage and the doors shut, I knew he would be joining me in a few minutes, probably ready for a quick swim and a little relaxation before dinner. We had finally settled into this comfortable routine and I saw no reason for anything different.
Which is why it struck me as odd when he opened the back door and asked me to join him in the living room for a moment.
I walked in behind him and came face to face with his ex-wife, sitting on the couch, sipping a glass of wine and smiling like a cat that had eaten the red cardinal I had just seen outside. As Tom walked over behind the couch, smiled at her and put his hands on her shoulders, I shook my head, trying to clear this image and thinking 'what's wrong with this picture?'
When he looked up at me, he was still smiling.
"We want to thank you for all the time you've spent, decorating the house so nicely for us. "
He then kissed her hand, walked me to the front door, opened it and handed me my suitcase, saying "Keep in touch."
When I woke up this morning, I hit him. He still has no idea why.
Graduation. It's that time of year again, when seniors across the country are chomping at the bit to grab those diplomas and run off into the world to create an entire new generation of lawyers, doctors, scientists and football players.
I remember my graduation.Mid-June, a warm scorching hot summer evening, every body gussied up in suits and nice dresses under those heavy robes (we weren’t allowed to wear shorts), marching into the football stadium to the jeers cheers and applause of hundreds of family and friends; sitting on those hard fold-up metal chairs, sleeping waiting through all of the speeches for our turn to walk up the steps and grab that little blue cardboard holder that contained proof of our twelve years of dedicated study.
Nobody told us that the little blue cardboard holder was empty, however.And of course, the first thing every body did once they returned to their hard metal chair was open that little blue cardboard holder.
There was a stadium full of seniors gasping and thinking they had not graduated until they read the little note inside: “Diplomas will be handed out when you return your cap and gown after the graduation ceremony.”
Return the cap and gown? You mean we worked our butts off for twelve years and we don’t get to keep the cap and gown? We burned the midnight oil, gave up our weekends to study instead of play, and all we get is a piece of paper?
As soon as we were dismissed, there was a rush to the gymnasium to gather our proof and off we went into the world.This was before the days of “Sober Graduation” and I can guarantee there were a lotof few parties to be found, though I didn’t attend any of them.
Nope, I wasn’t going to go get drunk with all those people. Not me.
Instead, I walked into the house, had a couple glasses of champagne (compliments of my mom and her husband at the time), said something like “See ya in about a week!” walked back out and hitch-hiked to Carmel.
