Because I ramble, that's why. Unlike my fellow blogger and good friend, Deb, who even in her first week home with two kids can whip up timely, witty, cute individual topics to blog about, complete with pictures and video of her ADORABLE son, The Ambassador, I seem to be unable to commit to one topic per title, for whatever reason. I come up with only word salads and toss them in here together for you to decipher and sort out at your leisure. I will say, however, that it's consistent with the rest of my life right now, which is in physical and mental chaos. My house looks like a tornado hit it (seriously this time), my laundry has taken over, my fridge is overflowing with healthy food and yet I can't find anything I want to eat, my cupboards are a disaster, my closets an eyesore, and I'm constantly trying to keep my head above water to get ANYTHING done. Sorting out and doing one thing at a time seems impossible anywhere, and that apparently includes here at FMFO. I hope to do better soon.
ANYWAY...
Birthday Dinner We took Samantha to Famous Dave's last night, one of hers and Daddy's favorite spots, and they had good eats and I muddled through. Uh, pretty much NOTHING beachy on the menu. So I ordered a grilled chicken salad and a cup of chili. The chili tasted like it used to be chili before somone dumped an entire bottle of chili powder in it (cheap chili powder to be exact) and then let it simmer for about, oh, 23 days. That took care of the chili. The salad was fine, but I mostly ate the chicken and noshed on the lettuce a bit. I did steal about four bites of a cornbread muffin (my only true love at Famous Dave's), but other than that...however, Samantha ate so much she gave herself a stomach ache, and that SELDOM happens with our string bean, so good for her, it was her birthday and she enjoyed it! I will NOT be asking for Famous Dave's for my birthday, by the way...
TGPMo20082009
Well, I think we all could have called this one, yes? We've rolled it over, it's like a big ball of Cingular minutes now, we just keep ROLLING IT OVER and not doing it. Nice. The boxes are like a fixture in the office now, I'm not even acknowledging them anymore. I really suck at this organization thing, despite what anyone thinks. I really, truly do. If you saw my office you would never see me in the same way again, I'm not kidding. Don't make me show you. I do hope to begin soon. I really do. Except now I'm up to at least another box of CRAP that has collected since I started organizing the boxes I already have, which now have to be integrated into the boxes already waiting to be filed. You don't even know.
Random Thoughts Not Long Enough for Their Own Sub-Heading
Why does me walking past my back door make my dogs need to pee?
The smell of dill pickles can linger on a toddler's face despite numerous washings.
Healthy food poop smells worse than junk food poop. I have no idea why, so don't ask.
There is not one, single, tiny part of me that EVER wants to be pregnant again.
I need to pay bills today, but seem to be ignoring it. I also need to write a preschool tuition check. Will be glad to have that nearly $200 a month back in June.
My husband and I need a long, long weekend, away from anyone else on the planet we know. I have NOT, however, figured out how to take my brain along and not leave it here, thinking about my kids the entire time.
Two-year olds WHINE. They learn it from their big sisters. They take it to a higher level than even she did.
Five-year olds can climb up on the toilet and get down things from atop the cabinet that were previously out of reach. So said the five-year old this morning, with demonstration included.
I found a neighbor's mail laying in the street yesterday. Makes me wonder how much of mine is blowing down towards the river.
Whoever said that veggies are filling and keep you full longer was a liar and a dirty bitch and they should be hung up and shot. McDonald's for breakfast = I'm full for hours. Veggies and dairy for breakfast = I'm starving in two. Every time.
I am down more than four pounds this week. I will now stop bitching about veggies.
I have successfully frittered away most all of my "me time" while he sleeps and she's at school. I think I feel another sabbatical coming up. For real. Like, mail the mouse to myself, by way of Ireland or something.
Better get at it, then, folks. After I check FB. B wants to know if I'm up for another garage sale this spring. That'll be a big fat YES, by the way, B. I'm messaging you now.
Speaking of "You don't even know" (which I used in my previous post, that's what reminded me of this), did I ever tell you I wrote to Dane Cook on myspace? Well, I did. He manages his own page, does a podcast reguarly there (the Danecast, I think it's called), etc. Generally if a celebrity's page is managed by someone else, it states it on there, or at least doesn't purport that it IS self-managed, and he's always been pretty forthright about handling his own page.
Why, you ask, did I write to him? Well, Aimee was a HUGE Dane Cook fan. As in, not only did she want to bear his children, she wanted to have to practice for about five years with him before the kids came along. You get the drift. She had the big L-U-V for Dane. And he's a damn funny guy, and we both got a lot of laughs quoting him through the years, going back to the first time she ever called me and said "OH MY GOD -have you heard that new comic Dane Cook? He is so funny I almost peed myself!" We used his lines in our everyday conversations, and they became part of our friendship. So after she died, it felt weird to NOT tell him. So I did.
Dane,
Hi. Gosh, it seems really weird to write to tell you this; it's not like we know each other, and maybe you don't even handle this page on your own any more.
My best friend is a HUGE fan of yours. Or was, rather. She died last week. Sorry, that was blunt. I'm not even sure how to explain it. She was fine, celebrated her and her husband's one year wedding anniversary on Labor Day. They had just found out they were expecting their first child, and we were so excited. She went into convulsions and died in their bed on Tuesday morning. No word yet on why or how, autopsy results are pending. We buried her last Saturday.
It's the most awful thing I've ever been through. She was my best friend for more than ten years, and I guess I'm writing to tell you because you were a part of that friendship. I became a fan because of her, and we laughed about all of your great stuff. "You don't even know" was our own private joke, and we stole it from you and used it often. I will miss her so very much, and will miss laughing about Christ Chex, your description of going to the movies, and all the other things that you gave us to laugh about.
She would have wanted you to know this happened, funny as that sounds. She really, really loved you.
I then included links to her obit and her myspace page, so he would know I am not some nut making crap up.
So if you ever have a day where you wonder if what you do matters...it matters, Dane. It's all funny and fun and a riot, but it matters. You were a part of something that meant more to me and to Aimee than I can ever explain. Thanks for reading. I hope you're blessed with a long, beautiful life.
Cathy
I sent it, not expecting a reply, and being OK with that. I had sent it, and knew that Aim would be pleased. Within a few minutes, actually, I got a notification that I had a new message...from Dane Cook.
His reply:
My prayers are with all of you. Thank you for sharing this with me. I am so glad I brought laughter to you and your friend's life.
Respectfully,
Dane Cook
Very cool of him to reply*. I suspect that Aimee, at watching from the other side as Dane Cook looked at her mypace page, and obit pages and talked to me of her on email, may have, in fact, peed herself. I almost did when I saw it. But she would have dug it so much. And I will always be grateful to Dane for taking the time to care enough to reply and offer up prayers for us. He's good people, that Dane Cook. In that dirty, raunchy "who's-your-warden", sexy, funny way.
*Uh, yeah. If you're one of those cynics who doesn't think ANY celebrity manages their own myspace page, and you think some intern named "chad" answered my email, good for you. Just keep it to yourself. I gave him an out to tell the truth if it was someone else, in my letter, and he didn't so we're going with it really having been Dane. So zip it if you disagree. Or I'll email Dane again. I'll do it. You don't even know.
This will be short, as I have kitchen stuff to do and laundry awaiting before I can hit the sack.
Colds We have them. 3 out of 4 members of the FMFO household are sick as dogs, and #4 is probably feeling crappier than he will let on. Sucks to be us. I need more Lysol.
The Beach I am back on it. As of today. Even worked out - love my Wii Fit! Expecting good things, and soon. My ass was expanding by the day. Side note: Treadmill for sale. It just can't compare to the Wii, dude. Seriously.
Birthday Samantha's is Wednesday - the big number FIVE. Seems impossible, as each one does, and yet I struggle to remember my life without her. She is wanting a "Pinkalicious" party, based on her favorite book of the same name. And so, in whatever capacity we are able, she will have it.
Facebook Really having a hoot seeing old faces on there and catching up with school days chums. And I'm also loving seeing current faces from my life showing up there. B, glad to see you on there finally. L, I can't believe I didn't know you were on there for so long. E, why aren't you on there yet? Even my mom has a FB page, for pete's sake!
M*A*S*H Still love it. Still funniest show ever. No other point, really, just that. Good stuff.
That is all. Check back soon for a post of actual substance. I promise, there'll be one coming.
...GET THE FUCK OUT. Buh-bye. See ya. Don't let the door hitcha where the good Lord splitcha. Deuces. Make tracks. 'The fuck OUT. Seriously.
Tonight I toast William, Aimee, my right arm which will never be the same, and all the other losses we have suffered this year. These last 365 days, I should note, have been speckled with some beautiful things - the birth of several good friends' children, hundreds of good times with our kids, a marriage that grew stronger through adversity despite our weakest moments, and the opportunity to learn new things about myself. But speckled as it was with good things, it was seemingly covered, doused, drowned with a veritable flooding of moments that sucked the wind out of me, and left me feeling sad and hurt and hopeless. I do not question my blessings, nor do I discount them, but reveling in them has been difficult with the burdens I have spent the year bearing.
I hope for fewer moments like that in 2009. I hope for more joy, more gratitude, more reasons to cry tears of joy, more smiles, more laughs, and more blessings for all of us. Not perfection, I am not selfish - but more moments of happiness than tragedy will suit me just fine.
Baby New Year, 2009, come on in. Welcome. Please bring the joy and hope we seek. Please.
Oh, I am clever with the cute little alliterations with the days of the week, huh?
Anyway, since I missed my last chance to do a Monday Memorandum for 2008, this is what we've got. (I guess I could do one and back date it, but I'm all about keeping it real around here. Mostly.)
Aimee She's still dead. I still miss her. Her baby would have been about 1/2 baked by now. She would be getting uncomfortable and we would talking about names and nursery themes and swollen feet. My heart still aches for her, and the loss we have suffered is still breath-taking and overwhelming. The thought of this being the last year she will have been part of my life makes for ONE tiny reason I'll be sad to see 2008 go. I know she'll always be with me, and I know she's watching, but that's not enough. We should have had a lifetime to watch each other's kids grow up, to grow old together, to laugh at how foolish we were as youngsters, and to value decades spent loving one another in the special way that we did. That will always feel a cheap shot from the powers that be. So as I've said so many times since September 2 - hug your loved ones. Kiss your family and friends. SAY I love you, even if it feels weird. You won't be sorry if you do, but you might be sorry if you don't.
Gosh, suddenly I don't feel like writing anymore. A good cry sounds great, though, I may go for that.
