Here are the rules and regulations for all who reside at, or visit the residence of 145 Crazy Road:
I the Mama, In order to form a less crazy household,Establish Justice, Ensure domestic tranquility, Provide for the health and happiness, Promote the General Welfare, Secure the Potential for a few minutes of peace each day, For Ourselves and Our Guests, Do Ordain and Establish this Constitution, For The Family and Friends of Crazy Road.
1)You have the freedom of speech, but no naughty words, or "bathroom talk" is permitted. I'm not a fool, I know you try to whisper and call each other names, like "stupid meanie" "poophead" and other bits of random profanity heard and copied after certain moments of frustration, but upon hearing such language, however funny it may be, you will face consequences.(See #4).
2)You must seize all activity, or complete whatever direction(i.e:"get your pajamas on right now," "let her hair go!" "stop fighting," "get back here," "this mess better be picked up in 5-4-3..." upon hearing "the countdown."
3)You should not ever whine or complain to me before I have had at least one FULL cup of coffee.
4)A few drops of hot-sauce is NOT considered cruel or unusual punishment. Remember that the next time you feel like repeating "di@*head," or any other words you may have heard on the bus.
5)You should understand that sliding down the stairs on the futon mattress is permittable, but not before 6am. And Tyler, even though whispering in my sleepy ear, "But Mama, it's so fwiggin fun!" is hilarious, your right was initially denied. You did it anyway. Not okay.(but still, funny).
6)Laughter is ALWAYS permitted, even if you have a mouthfull of milk.
7)You have the right to be in "comfy clothes" at any point in the day. Especially in yucky weather.
8)Farts are considered funny here at Crazy Road. With the understanding that they are not acceptable everywhere.
9)Please help me keep this place clean. Sheesh!
10)Snow days are considered holidays, and celebrated as such. Except in April. Then I'm just pissed. See #3.
11)Manners. Here and everywhere. Thank You.
12)Hugs, kisses and poochies are available to you at all times. UNLESS the door is closed to the bathroom. Then, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, just give me a minute.
13)Be respectful of others. If you are "hanging out" in Nick's room(and I know, it's cool)You are ABSOLUTELY NOT allowed to steal his Easter candy and proceed to eat it in his bed when he isn't there. That is a NO-NO.
14)Brush your teeth before bed, but do not GARGLE. I know Bup taught you, but until Bup comes over every night to wipe up the un-GODLY mess of toothpaste and water all over the walls, mirror, sink and floor, stop doing it.
15)Eat your dinner.
16)Do NOT answer the phone if the caller i.d. says "unknown" or "800 Service."
17)FLUSH.
18)Do not try to get me to like frogs. Don't tease me with "Kermit," Don't try to convince me that they are cute. And understand that if I see a mouse or other rodent in and/or around our home, I will scream and run. You will be left to fend for yourselves.
19)Know that you are loved unconditionally, and that there is nothing in the world you can't talk about, ask or wonder aloud about...except how babies are made...I'm just not ready for that.
20)You will have Twinkle-Twinkle sung to you until you are 30(Kiki), if you wish. You may also select any Christmas Carol to be sung at bedtime(Tyler)to you, 365 days a year. You will be provided with "Fresh" water at bedtime as well. And Nick, as long as you live under this roof, I will come in and say "Goodnight," and straighten your covers. I will also kiss you on your forehead. I don't care how old or how tall you are. You are still my baby.
21)Understand that Life here at Crazy Road is just that: CRAZY. But I promise to make every day fun. To keep you healthy and happy. To read to you and help you with homework, if necessary. Except math. Then you're on your own.
This Bill of Rights will be ammended as needed. By me. Because I am the Mama. And because I said so.
Thanks for Reading
funny.crazy.love
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
You Want Fries With That Shake?
"Good Morning.(cracklecracklecrackle)Welcome to Dunkin Donuts. Would you like to try a cheddar cheese, sesame glazed, bacon stuffed(crackle)bagel twist this morning?"
"No Thank You. I would like a medium coffee with just milk."
"Will that be hot or iced?"
"Hot, please."
"Would you like a flavor shot?"crackle.
"No. Just a plain coffee."
"Skim milk or regular?"
"Umm. Skim."
"No Sugar(crackle) or Splenda?"
"Nope."
"Would you like to add a muffin or donut this morning?"
"No Thanks." Sheesh.
"Would you like to try a chocolate frosted, coconut sprinkled, double toasted waffle-wich?"
"Nope. Just the java.
"Was that a medium hot coffee?"
"YES. A medium HOT coffee with just skim milk. NOTHING else."
"Please drive up."
"Really?" I felt like asking. "Mother May I? Can I just drive up and get my SIMPLE coffee?"
Today was FILLED with OPTIONS. Starting with my coffee.
Then while trying to order a birthday cake for Mackenzie.
"I need a marble cake for about ten people. I need it Tuesday morning if that is possible."
"Sure. What kind of frosting? Traditional or Whipped?"
"What's the difference?"
"Traditional is more dense...blahblahblah"
Is what I heard. It's FROSTING for goodness sake.
"Traditional is fine."
"How do you spell her name?"
Here we go...
"Macke..."
"Is that a big C or small?"
"Small."
Etcetera. Etcetera...
"Do you want a number 6 candle?"
"Sure."
"What color?"
"I don't know...green?"
"Do you want the lettering on the cake or on the border?"
"On the cake?"
"Would you like a double layer or sheet?"
And the questioning went on and on..
Then, later in the day, I decided to go and have my nails done. Kind of a Mother's Day treat for myself...
I was greeted by a young man wearing a surgical mask, as I know many nail techs do now. But I could barely understand him anyway, and the mask over his mouth was going to make for difficult communication. This happened once before and I wound up with a floral mural that resembled, um, "hooch" across my toes.
I sat in the chair he directed, and put my wallet and keys down.
In almost impossible to decipher English, I thought he asked, "pig alright?"
"Excuse me?"
"Pig ALRIGHT?"
"I don't understand."
He gestured to a plastic hand....
"OOOHHH! PINK AND WHITE?!"
I was so proud I finally understood.
"No thanks. Just a regular set."
"French manicure?"
"Nope. Color."
"Really? No French?" He seemed horrified.
"No. No FRENCH."
"You want design?"
What am I? Fourteen?
"No. No design." Here we go with the menu offerings...
"You want suncreen?"
Now I was being upsold, and I was no longer in the mood.
"No. I do not want ANY extras. Just color. JUST COLOR."
He hated me.
I was not too fond of him, either, but I was already wrist deep in Palmolive, and wasn't going anywhere.
All of these menu offerings have filtered into our life here at Crazy Road.
And it starts at 6:45 am every.single.morning.
"Mom. Do we have bagels?"
"I think so."
"Did you get regular cream cheese or did you get the 'light' stuff?"
"It's regular."
"Mama? Can I have waffles?"
"Yes, Tyler."
"Can I have the ones that are cut in strips? Not the round ones?
"I guess."
"Mama?"
"Hi, Mackenzie."
"Can I have cinnamon toast? But with more sugar than cinnamon. And can you cut off the crust?"
As I shuffle around the kitchen, I realize that I alone have created this "menu" mentality for my kids. They understand that there are always options. Lots of them.
Tyler will not eat pork chops. So as an "option" I offer chicken nuggets.
Mackenzie will not even entertain the idea of putting peppers into her mouth. As an "option," she can pick them out. And now I barely make anything with peppers. Or pork chops.
Nick barely likes any meat. But he's twelve. He can choke stuff down. I know he won't throw a fit. Thank GOD for Nick right now.
And they know they have options. They've been to McDonalds. They've been with me when going through the drive-thru. They see and hear millions of options and offerings...and guess what? They now expect options. Menu selections, if you will...I know. I know. MYFAULT.
I don't remember, as a child, being offered options. We ate what was put in front of us. No questions. No whining. We didn't KNOW back then that there were options. There was no menu at our house.
When we went to McDonalds, we got a burger and fries.
When they added Chicken Nuggets to the menu, It was National News. Now you can get gourmet salads, gourmet lattes...I don't even know if they still make cheeseburgers.
And at Dunkin Donuts, You could order coffee and a donut. That was about it. Now its like ordering an Olympic event.
"I'll have a half/caf/half hot/half cold/part skim/vanilla twist with a double shot of caramel and half packet of raw sugar..."
It's out.of.hand.
I know I sound old when I say, "It used to be so simple."
"Buy One Get One Free."
"Do you want whipped cream?"
"If you spend another $10 you get a free gift!"
"Do you want a girl toy or a boy toy?"
"Would you like a hot apple pie, today?"
"White or Wheat?"
humminahumminahummina.
So many options.
Let's keep it simple, people.
And No. I don't want a pig, ALRIGHT?
Alright.
Thanks for Reading.
funnycrazylove.
"No Thank You. I would like a medium coffee with just milk."
"Will that be hot or iced?"
"Hot, please."
"Would you like a flavor shot?"crackle.
"No. Just a plain coffee."
"Skim milk or regular?"
"Umm. Skim."
"No Sugar(crackle) or Splenda?"
"Nope."
"Would you like to add a muffin or donut this morning?"
"No Thanks." Sheesh.
"Would you like to try a chocolate frosted, coconut sprinkled, double toasted waffle-wich?"
"Nope. Just the java.
"Was that a medium hot coffee?"
"YES. A medium HOT coffee with just skim milk. NOTHING else."
"Please drive up."
"Really?" I felt like asking. "Mother May I? Can I just drive up and get my SIMPLE coffee?"
Today was FILLED with OPTIONS. Starting with my coffee.
Then while trying to order a birthday cake for Mackenzie.
"I need a marble cake for about ten people. I need it Tuesday morning if that is possible."
"Sure. What kind of frosting? Traditional or Whipped?"
"What's the difference?"
"Traditional is more dense...blahblahblah"
Is what I heard. It's FROSTING for goodness sake.
"Traditional is fine."
"How do you spell her name?"
Here we go...
"Macke..."
"Is that a big C or small?"
"Small."
Etcetera. Etcetera...
"Do you want a number 6 candle?"
"Sure."
"What color?"
"I don't know...green?"
"Do you want the lettering on the cake or on the border?"
"On the cake?"
"Would you like a double layer or sheet?"
And the questioning went on and on..
Then, later in the day, I decided to go and have my nails done. Kind of a Mother's Day treat for myself...
I was greeted by a young man wearing a surgical mask, as I know many nail techs do now. But I could barely understand him anyway, and the mask over his mouth was going to make for difficult communication. This happened once before and I wound up with a floral mural that resembled, um, "hooch" across my toes.
I sat in the chair he directed, and put my wallet and keys down.
In almost impossible to decipher English, I thought he asked, "pig alright?"
"Excuse me?"
"Pig ALRIGHT?"
"I don't understand."
He gestured to a plastic hand....
"OOOHHH! PINK AND WHITE?!"
I was so proud I finally understood.
"No thanks. Just a regular set."
"French manicure?"
"Nope. Color."
"Really? No French?" He seemed horrified.
"No. No FRENCH."
"You want design?"
What am I? Fourteen?
"No. No design." Here we go with the menu offerings...
"You want suncreen?"
Now I was being upsold, and I was no longer in the mood.
"No. I do not want ANY extras. Just color. JUST COLOR."
He hated me.
I was not too fond of him, either, but I was already wrist deep in Palmolive, and wasn't going anywhere.
All of these menu offerings have filtered into our life here at Crazy Road.
And it starts at 6:45 am every.single.morning.
"Mom. Do we have bagels?"
"I think so."
"Did you get regular cream cheese or did you get the 'light' stuff?"
"It's regular."
"Mama? Can I have waffles?"
"Yes, Tyler."
"Can I have the ones that are cut in strips? Not the round ones?
"I guess."
"Mama?"
"Hi, Mackenzie."
"Can I have cinnamon toast? But with more sugar than cinnamon. And can you cut off the crust?"
As I shuffle around the kitchen, I realize that I alone have created this "menu" mentality for my kids. They understand that there are always options. Lots of them.
Tyler will not eat pork chops. So as an "option" I offer chicken nuggets.
Mackenzie will not even entertain the idea of putting peppers into her mouth. As an "option," she can pick them out. And now I barely make anything with peppers. Or pork chops.
Nick barely likes any meat. But he's twelve. He can choke stuff down. I know he won't throw a fit. Thank GOD for Nick right now.
And they know they have options. They've been to McDonalds. They've been with me when going through the drive-thru. They see and hear millions of options and offerings...and guess what? They now expect options. Menu selections, if you will...I know. I know. MYFAULT.
I don't remember, as a child, being offered options. We ate what was put in front of us. No questions. No whining. We didn't KNOW back then that there were options. There was no menu at our house.
When we went to McDonalds, we got a burger and fries.
When they added Chicken Nuggets to the menu, It was National News. Now you can get gourmet salads, gourmet lattes...I don't even know if they still make cheeseburgers.
And at Dunkin Donuts, You could order coffee and a donut. That was about it. Now its like ordering an Olympic event.
"I'll have a half/caf/half hot/half cold/part skim/vanilla twist with a double shot of caramel and half packet of raw sugar..."
It's out.of.hand.
I know I sound old when I say, "It used to be so simple."
"Buy One Get One Free."
"Do you want whipped cream?"
"If you spend another $10 you get a free gift!"
"Do you want a girl toy or a boy toy?"
"Would you like a hot apple pie, today?"
"White or Wheat?"
humminahumminahummina.
So many options.
Let's keep it simple, people.
And No. I don't want a pig, ALRIGHT?
Alright.
Thanks for Reading.
funnycrazylove.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A Crazy Ride
I turned 40 this week.
I know, I know.
Its just a number.
Its the end. Its the beginning. And over the last few weeks things have happened that have surprised me, made me cry, made me laugh, made me pause, made me crazy...
Life.
A crazy ride, isn't it?
I was with my mom one evening last week. Poor thing. She and my Dad have literally had to endure ALL of the craziness that my sister (yes, my sister has delivered crazy to their door, too) and I have brought to them over the years. I know, they wouldn't trade a second of it. But I am certain they might pay money to get a few of the sleepless nights back...
On the ride home that night last week, we were talking about these crazy times over the past 40 years...I was surprised at some of the things that my mom remembered...events I haven't thought about for some time now...but the story she remembers as the worst, craziest thing I ever pulled off, would be a perfect tie in to my "Crazy Ride" story.
Buckle up.
In 1993 I was a Senior in college.
I got a call one night from Julie~my level headed lifelong friend.
"Jess and I are driving to Florida for Spring Break. We want you to go too!"
Of course.
Of COURSE!!
I was sure I could make it happen. I can't remember the details of making it happen, I'm sure I was helped out by the Bank of DonandLinda, and I had some cash from my bar tending gig(heehee, that's right).
i.was.in.
Now, there couldn't have been 4 more different girls stuffed into Jess's little white Toyota Celica.
Julie~the relatively quiet-unless-you-know-her gal who likely preferred to stay closer to home than leave the state~
ME.
Jess~the model, actress, flamboyant, dramatic Syracuse co-ed who taught me how to over-pluck my eyebrows without even looking in a mirror~
And her friend~Julie and I still argue about what her name was...but she was never without a full face of make-up, had ruby red hair and lips and nails, and wouldn't let her keyboard or her hair spray leave her side. I'll call her Ruby for the sake of the story.
So Julie and I took a bus to meet up with Jess and Ruby in Connecticut. We were so excited, and feeling quite proud that we were saving so much cashola by driving. We were staying in Jess's parents time-share and were excited for a low-key, sunny vacation in Paradise. Cocoa Beach, to be exact.
We met up as planned, with Jess driving, Julie as passenger and me in the back with the keyboard-playing-not a hair-out-of-place-way-over-perfumed-girl-from-the-city.
The first thing out of the gate: Jess backed into another car in the McDonald's parking lot. Not just a tap. A crash. Oddly, there was no damage to either car...but there WAS damage to Jess's already over-caffienated nerves...I took over as driver of the first leg.
Keep in mind as the story goes on~Only Jess and I were able to drive "a stick."(thanks, Dad).
The trip down was fun. No major stories about that~we had a "TRIP TICK" from AAA. Remember those? We didn't have Google, or cell-phones, or GPS...and we made it safe and sound to Sunny Florida.
We had a decent time...it wasn't a BLAST, as other spring-breakers were likely having, but it was nice. Gorgeous weather, cheap crab-legs...some beers, but not too many...just a really good time with the girls.
Except for Lola~Ruby~Mona~Lisa, who would not let a speck of her white skin see a bit of the sun...she wrapped herself in robes and towels and practiced "opera" all day. She gave us plenty to roll our eyes about, but to each her own.
We were supposed to be there for 6 days, if I remember correctly, we were going to leave on Friday, and planned on being back in Maine by Sunday...
But on Thursday, the calls started coming in to our room..no cell phones, you know...our parents:
"HAVE YOU SEEN THE WEATHER FORECAST?"
"GET PACKED! MAYBE YOU CAN BEAT IT!!"
"ARE YOU ON THE ROAD?"
What the???
NO. We hadn't seen any forecast~we had been on the sunny beach by 9am and sleeping soundly by 10pm...we weren't watching the news!
But that Thursday we found the Weather Channel and sat side by side on the end of the bed and watched the MONSTROUS WHITE SWIRL move in its creepy, slow satellite graphic BLANKET the entire East Coast.
we.were.screwed.
If we waited, it would be another week before we would be able to leave Florida. Our money was just about gone..the time share would be ovah...we had to split.
Like a band of bank-robbers, we began throwing our stuff into bags. Bumping into each other and making a getaway plan...EXCEPT for Gina-Lola-Brigitta, who couldn't be bothered as she applied her stupid lipstick and yodeled or whatever...
We were literally trying to beat the storm of the century.
We loaded up our bags, and sprinted down to the lot, where we found dozens of other vacationers doing the same thing. Panicking...
We shoved everything into the hatch-back of the teeny white "Celley," still in our flip flops and cut-offs, our "TRIP TICK" in hand and we peeled out of the hotel lot and didn't look back...
Almost immediately we could see the massive dark storm clouds racing in the sky...we had only been driving for an hour and it started sleeting. The wind was already gusting, bending the palm trees that lined the highways right over sideways...We really didn't know what we were about to drive into.
By Friday evening, we hit Georgia...still driving in sleet and freezing rain, and then...SNOW.
In Georgia.
Now, being a true Mainer, I felt like a few inches of snow was easy to drive through...but in Georgia, a few inches of snow meant 10 car pile-ups, highways closing, detours and general pandemonium.
We were forced to take some off road that put us off of our plan, and we ended up somewhere in the middle of NoIdeaWhere, Georgia.
It was late, so we stopped at a gas station and one of us called home on a pay phone.
I can't remember which one of us, likely Jess...tried to calmly discuss the situation with parents who were already freaking out. The end of the discussion concluded with the notion that we should find a Holiday Inn somewhere and sleep a bit. Hopefully things would lighten up in the morning. Right?
Oh, this was just the beginning...
There were no Holiday Inns, Howard Jonson's or any other recognizable establishments within miles. It was now really hard to see. We were tired. And nervous. Our brazen, optimistic attitude had started to wither. We just wanted to go home.
After driving for hours, we found, ahem, a "motel."
As Julie describes it, "It was depressing and dark."
To say the very least.
We had no idea what time it was, what town we were in, or if we were even heading North.
The very cute, very tanned girls who left Florida less than a day before, were now hungry, tired and not really caring about tan lines.
We got a room.
None of us really slept. It was not a place where we dared to sleep.
We kept our eyes on the clock~we wanted to be on the road when the sun came up...
Thankfully we made it out of that "place." I'm certain that it does not even exist anymore.
At the break of dawn, we were shocked to look out the tiny, dirty window to see...WHITE.
The car was buried. The snow blocked the swinging door.
Sh*&.
We forged ahead.
We cleaned off the foot of snow, piled in, and headed North.
We figured as long as we were heading North, we would be fine.
We drove and drove. It was a complete white-out.
When I drove, Julie was co-pilot.
When Jess drove, her friend sat in front.
But we were not going North. We were going North West.
Welcome to West Virginia.
That's right. West frickin Virginia.
And West Virginia was seeing more snow than it had seen in decades. So were we.
We drove into nothing but white. We were essentially the only vehicle on the roads.
There were moments we weren't sure if we were even ON a road...we drove over massive snowbanks if we thought there was any sign of life on the other side of it.
I'm pretty sure this was when I started cussing.
Where the #$%^ were we?
How the $%^* were we going to get home?
!#$%.
I was fairly certain that Little Miss Broadway had never heard such profanity. Her somehow still eyelinered eyes bugged out and her already alabaster skin got even paler if that was possible.
We soon realized we were in some mountain range. We hit the gas to make it up steep hills, around sharp, curvy turns...it was then we really started to think we just might not make it...
It was so blinding white...I literally took my hands off the wheel...
I cussed.
Julie cried.
Madame Butterfly practiced her vowels:
"LAA-LEE-LII-LOOO-LUUU..."
Then Julie, my mild mannered friend, turned around and very calmly said something like, "if you don't shut the %^&* up, I'm going to take your stupid keyboard and your stupid lipstick and throw it right out the window."
And we didn't hear a word from her glossy lips again.
And we somehow made it off that mountain.
But we had no idea where we were.
We continued on...East this time...Virginia? Washington? No effing clue.
Everything was closed. Gas stations. Convenience stores...not that it mattered. We had almost no cash...
We FINALLY found an IRVING'S that was open. I think it was in Maryland.
I used a little money to call my folks, who were now tracking our journey with push pegs on a map of the United States...they were uneasy even as I tried to convince them that I was OKAY. I used a little more money to buy a bag of SMART FOOD...it was like a bag of pure gold to me...
I made my way out to the parking lot, when the gusty wind not only took me by surprise, but took my precious popcorn, too.
OH NO YOU DON'T!!
I ran after that bag and pathetically collected the kernels from the ground. I was not letting one piece get away.
Julie was crying again..."Where's Jess?" I asked.
Julie motioned to a parked 18 wheeler..."What the hell is she doing?"
Let's just say that there were no working rest rooms, and behind the big rig was going to have to do...
We collected our "dinners" of popcorn and Snapple and again, hit the road.
The trip tick had left the building, somewhere back in the mountains.
By the time we made it to New Jersey, we were warriors.
With no other traffic on the roads, we were fending for ourselves...
"ROAD CLOSED" signs meant NOTHING to us, as we drove over snowbanks and around detour signs...
The visibility was ZERO as we skidded onto the Garden State Parkway...ooohhh...guess what? There was a State Trooper! We hadn't seen a single rescue vehicle in the 48 hours that we had been driving.
We pulled up along side of him in our crusted over, ice-covered Celley.
He looked shocked~and we didn't even take a breath trying to explain our situation, where we had been, what we had driven through, and where we needed to go!
We needed 95 NORTH...
He told us that we couldn't get there, that the roads were all closed.
This storm, if you remember, was THE BLIZZARD OF '93. The entire East Coast was paralyzed.
Ya think?
We convinced him to "escort" us onto the closed road. We had to get home. And a couple of us had, well, started our...well, forget it. You don't need to know THAT.
And so we went...following the State Trooper, over the median and onto 95.
The snow and freezing rain was now making it impossible to see.
The windshield was covered in a thick sheet of ice...I rolled down the window and stuck my head out...I worked the clutch and wheel while Julie shifted...ice covered my face, but we cruised out of New Jersey and into yet another road block...
I think it was in Rhode Island?
All roads were closed...
We were frazzled to the point of psycho...
We FINALLY found this diner that was open...it looked like heaven!!Just to see lights!!
We slid our unrecognizable car into a random spot...we probably were parking on the highway for all we knew...roads could no longer be distinguished from parking lots or rivers, for that matter.
We fell over ourselves trying to get in that diner...we had to call our folks!! Maybe get some coffee!!
It was loud in that diner, we couldn't hear our worried parents on the old pay phone...I needed to get directions on HOWINHELLWEGETNORTH!!!!
We were filthy. Stinky. Tired. Cranky. No one would listen to us...
I took control.
I jumped up onto the diner counter and started yelling at the coffee drinking, over-easy-egg-eating, plaid-flannel-shirt-wearing truckers...
Julie loves to tell this part...
"CAN ANYONE TELL US HOW TO GET TO 95 NORTH??AND DON"T TELL ME WE CAN'T!!WE HAVE BEEN DRIVING FOR THREE GoDaMnEd DAYS...WE NEED TO GET NORTH!"
The drivers stopped talking. Looked up at the wild-haired-wild-eyed-no-longer-tan crazy person that was me, and then all at once, started shouting their directions at me.
"You've got to go here..."
"NO NO NO..." they argued..."If they go there, they're gonna hit so and such..."
There must have been 30 rusty trucker dudes trying to help...It brings a tear to my eye thinking about it...
After we left our new friends at that truck stop, somewhere on the East Coast, we finally found our way to Albany, New York. We rolled and bumped in on fumes. So effing relieved.
So happy.
We were almost home.
THATS where Julie and I were supposed to say Goodbye to Jess and her pal, and meet up with her boyfriend's brother(now her brother-in-law). But when Julie used her last quarter to call him to pick us up, she told him the wrong place, and we ended up waiting hours and hours for him to find us...
I barely remember that part...
The next leg of our "trip" was the bus to Portland.
I don't remember talking the entire bus ride...Julie didn't either...I think shock was starting to settle in...
What the hell had just happened?
Needless to say, we made it...
Needless to say, we scared our poor parents and half the community to death...
Now, almost 20 years later, we still tell the story...and when we tell it together, we laugh so hard we can barely breathe. When we tell the story, and we frequently do, my mother still goes berserk, my dad leaves the room, and Julie's mom still starts expressing her dismay in French...
That was a Crazy Ride...
Like life...
We never know what the next day, the next hour, the next minute will bring...
We have to be strong, and believe in ourselves.
Do what needs to be done.
Ask for help sometimes.
Hold onto your shit when the wind is gusting.
Rely on your instincts...
And ALWAYS find humor in your days.
Life is a Crazy, Wonderful Ride.
Bring on the next 40!
Love you Julie.
Mom and Dad~Thanks. Sorry for that. I love you.
Thanks For Reading.
funny.crazy.love.
I know, I know.
Its just a number.
Its the end. Its the beginning. And over the last few weeks things have happened that have surprised me, made me cry, made me laugh, made me pause, made me crazy...
Life.
A crazy ride, isn't it?
I was with my mom one evening last week. Poor thing. She and my Dad have literally had to endure ALL of the craziness that my sister (yes, my sister has delivered crazy to their door, too) and I have brought to them over the years. I know, they wouldn't trade a second of it. But I am certain they might pay money to get a few of the sleepless nights back...
On the ride home that night last week, we were talking about these crazy times over the past 40 years...I was surprised at some of the things that my mom remembered...events I haven't thought about for some time now...but the story she remembers as the worst, craziest thing I ever pulled off, would be a perfect tie in to my "Crazy Ride" story.
Buckle up.
In 1993 I was a Senior in college.
I got a call one night from Julie~my level headed lifelong friend.
"Jess and I are driving to Florida for Spring Break. We want you to go too!"
Of course.
Of COURSE!!
I was sure I could make it happen. I can't remember the details of making it happen, I'm sure I was helped out by the Bank of DonandLinda, and I had some cash from my bar tending gig(heehee, that's right).
i.was.in.
Now, there couldn't have been 4 more different girls stuffed into Jess's little white Toyota Celica.
Julie~the relatively quiet-unless-you-know-her gal who likely preferred to stay closer to home than leave the state~
ME.
Jess~the model, actress, flamboyant, dramatic Syracuse co-ed who taught me how to over-pluck my eyebrows without even looking in a mirror~
And her friend~Julie and I still argue about what her name was...but she was never without a full face of make-up, had ruby red hair and lips and nails, and wouldn't let her keyboard or her hair spray leave her side. I'll call her Ruby for the sake of the story.
So Julie and I took a bus to meet up with Jess and Ruby in Connecticut. We were so excited, and feeling quite proud that we were saving so much cashola by driving. We were staying in Jess's parents time-share and were excited for a low-key, sunny vacation in Paradise. Cocoa Beach, to be exact.
We met up as planned, with Jess driving, Julie as passenger and me in the back with the keyboard-playing-not a hair-out-of-place-way-over-perfumed-girl-from-the-city.
The first thing out of the gate: Jess backed into another car in the McDonald's parking lot. Not just a tap. A crash. Oddly, there was no damage to either car...but there WAS damage to Jess's already over-caffienated nerves...I took over as driver of the first leg.
Keep in mind as the story goes on~Only Jess and I were able to drive "a stick."(thanks, Dad).
The trip down was fun. No major stories about that~we had a "TRIP TICK" from AAA. Remember those? We didn't have Google, or cell-phones, or GPS...and we made it safe and sound to Sunny Florida.
We had a decent time...it wasn't a BLAST, as other spring-breakers were likely having, but it was nice. Gorgeous weather, cheap crab-legs...some beers, but not too many...just a really good time with the girls.
Except for Lola~Ruby~Mona~Lisa, who would not let a speck of her white skin see a bit of the sun...she wrapped herself in robes and towels and practiced "opera" all day. She gave us plenty to roll our eyes about, but to each her own.
We were supposed to be there for 6 days, if I remember correctly, we were going to leave on Friday, and planned on being back in Maine by Sunday...
But on Thursday, the calls started coming in to our room..no cell phones, you know...our parents:
"HAVE YOU SEEN THE WEATHER FORECAST?"
"GET PACKED! MAYBE YOU CAN BEAT IT!!"
"ARE YOU ON THE ROAD?"
What the???
NO. We hadn't seen any forecast~we had been on the sunny beach by 9am and sleeping soundly by 10pm...we weren't watching the news!
But that Thursday we found the Weather Channel and sat side by side on the end of the bed and watched the MONSTROUS WHITE SWIRL move in its creepy, slow satellite graphic BLANKET the entire East Coast.
we.were.screwed.
If we waited, it would be another week before we would be able to leave Florida. Our money was just about gone..the time share would be ovah...we had to split.
Like a band of bank-robbers, we began throwing our stuff into bags. Bumping into each other and making a getaway plan...EXCEPT for Gina-Lola-Brigitta, who couldn't be bothered as she applied her stupid lipstick and yodeled or whatever...
We were literally trying to beat the storm of the century.
We loaded up our bags, and sprinted down to the lot, where we found dozens of other vacationers doing the same thing. Panicking...
We shoved everything into the hatch-back of the teeny white "Celley," still in our flip flops and cut-offs, our "TRIP TICK" in hand and we peeled out of the hotel lot and didn't look back...
Almost immediately we could see the massive dark storm clouds racing in the sky...we had only been driving for an hour and it started sleeting. The wind was already gusting, bending the palm trees that lined the highways right over sideways...We really didn't know what we were about to drive into.
By Friday evening, we hit Georgia...still driving in sleet and freezing rain, and then...SNOW.
In Georgia.
Now, being a true Mainer, I felt like a few inches of snow was easy to drive through...but in Georgia, a few inches of snow meant 10 car pile-ups, highways closing, detours and general pandemonium.
We were forced to take some off road that put us off of our plan, and we ended up somewhere in the middle of NoIdeaWhere, Georgia.
It was late, so we stopped at a gas station and one of us called home on a pay phone.
I can't remember which one of us, likely Jess...tried to calmly discuss the situation with parents who were already freaking out. The end of the discussion concluded with the notion that we should find a Holiday Inn somewhere and sleep a bit. Hopefully things would lighten up in the morning. Right?
Oh, this was just the beginning...
There were no Holiday Inns, Howard Jonson's or any other recognizable establishments within miles. It was now really hard to see. We were tired. And nervous. Our brazen, optimistic attitude had started to wither. We just wanted to go home.
After driving for hours, we found, ahem, a "motel."
As Julie describes it, "It was depressing and dark."
To say the very least.
We had no idea what time it was, what town we were in, or if we were even heading North.
The very cute, very tanned girls who left Florida less than a day before, were now hungry, tired and not really caring about tan lines.
We got a room.
None of us really slept. It was not a place where we dared to sleep.
We kept our eyes on the clock~we wanted to be on the road when the sun came up...
Thankfully we made it out of that "place." I'm certain that it does not even exist anymore.
At the break of dawn, we were shocked to look out the tiny, dirty window to see...WHITE.
The car was buried. The snow blocked the swinging door.
Sh*&.
We forged ahead.
We cleaned off the foot of snow, piled in, and headed North.
We figured as long as we were heading North, we would be fine.
We drove and drove. It was a complete white-out.
When I drove, Julie was co-pilot.
When Jess drove, her friend sat in front.
But we were not going North. We were going North West.
Welcome to West Virginia.
That's right. West frickin Virginia.
And West Virginia was seeing more snow than it had seen in decades. So were we.
We drove into nothing but white. We were essentially the only vehicle on the roads.
There were moments we weren't sure if we were even ON a road...we drove over massive snowbanks if we thought there was any sign of life on the other side of it.
I'm pretty sure this was when I started cussing.
Where the #$%^ were we?
How the $%^* were we going to get home?
!#$%.
I was fairly certain that Little Miss Broadway had never heard such profanity. Her somehow still eyelinered eyes bugged out and her already alabaster skin got even paler if that was possible.
We soon realized we were in some mountain range. We hit the gas to make it up steep hills, around sharp, curvy turns...it was then we really started to think we just might not make it...
It was so blinding white...I literally took my hands off the wheel...
I cussed.
Julie cried.
Madame Butterfly practiced her vowels:
"LAA-LEE-LII-LOOO-LUUU..."
Then Julie, my mild mannered friend, turned around and very calmly said something like, "if you don't shut the %^&* up, I'm going to take your stupid keyboard and your stupid lipstick and throw it right out the window."
And we didn't hear a word from her glossy lips again.
And we somehow made it off that mountain.
But we had no idea where we were.
We continued on...East this time...Virginia? Washington? No effing clue.
Everything was closed. Gas stations. Convenience stores...not that it mattered. We had almost no cash...
We FINALLY found an IRVING'S that was open. I think it was in Maryland.
I used a little money to call my folks, who were now tracking our journey with push pegs on a map of the United States...they were uneasy even as I tried to convince them that I was OKAY. I used a little more money to buy a bag of SMART FOOD...it was like a bag of pure gold to me...
I made my way out to the parking lot, when the gusty wind not only took me by surprise, but took my precious popcorn, too.
OH NO YOU DON'T!!
I ran after that bag and pathetically collected the kernels from the ground. I was not letting one piece get away.
Julie was crying again..."Where's Jess?" I asked.
Julie motioned to a parked 18 wheeler..."What the hell is she doing?"
Let's just say that there were no working rest rooms, and behind the big rig was going to have to do...
We collected our "dinners" of popcorn and Snapple and again, hit the road.
The trip tick had left the building, somewhere back in the mountains.
By the time we made it to New Jersey, we were warriors.
With no other traffic on the roads, we were fending for ourselves...
"ROAD CLOSED" signs meant NOTHING to us, as we drove over snowbanks and around detour signs...
The visibility was ZERO as we skidded onto the Garden State Parkway...ooohhh...guess what? There was a State Trooper! We hadn't seen a single rescue vehicle in the 48 hours that we had been driving.
We pulled up along side of him in our crusted over, ice-covered Celley.
He looked shocked~and we didn't even take a breath trying to explain our situation, where we had been, what we had driven through, and where we needed to go!
We needed 95 NORTH...
He told us that we couldn't get there, that the roads were all closed.
This storm, if you remember, was THE BLIZZARD OF '93. The entire East Coast was paralyzed.
Ya think?
We convinced him to "escort" us onto the closed road. We had to get home. And a couple of us had, well, started our...well, forget it. You don't need to know THAT.
And so we went...following the State Trooper, over the median and onto 95.
The snow and freezing rain was now making it impossible to see.
The windshield was covered in a thick sheet of ice...I rolled down the window and stuck my head out...I worked the clutch and wheel while Julie shifted...ice covered my face, but we cruised out of New Jersey and into yet another road block...
I think it was in Rhode Island?
All roads were closed...
We were frazzled to the point of psycho...
We FINALLY found this diner that was open...it looked like heaven!!Just to see lights!!
We slid our unrecognizable car into a random spot...we probably were parking on the highway for all we knew...roads could no longer be distinguished from parking lots or rivers, for that matter.
We fell over ourselves trying to get in that diner...we had to call our folks!! Maybe get some coffee!!
It was loud in that diner, we couldn't hear our worried parents on the old pay phone...I needed to get directions on HOWINHELLWEGETNORTH!!!!
We were filthy. Stinky. Tired. Cranky. No one would listen to us...
I took control.
I jumped up onto the diner counter and started yelling at the coffee drinking, over-easy-egg-eating, plaid-flannel-shirt-wearing truckers...
Julie loves to tell this part...
"CAN ANYONE TELL US HOW TO GET TO 95 NORTH??AND DON"T TELL ME WE CAN'T!!WE HAVE BEEN DRIVING FOR THREE GoDaMnEd DAYS...WE NEED TO GET NORTH!"
The drivers stopped talking. Looked up at the wild-haired-wild-eyed-no-longer-tan crazy person that was me, and then all at once, started shouting their directions at me.
"You've got to go here..."
"NO NO NO..." they argued..."If they go there, they're gonna hit so and such..."
There must have been 30 rusty trucker dudes trying to help...It brings a tear to my eye thinking about it...
After we left our new friends at that truck stop, somewhere on the East Coast, we finally found our way to Albany, New York. We rolled and bumped in on fumes. So effing relieved.
So happy.
We were almost home.
THATS where Julie and I were supposed to say Goodbye to Jess and her pal, and meet up with her boyfriend's brother(now her brother-in-law). But when Julie used her last quarter to call him to pick us up, she told him the wrong place, and we ended up waiting hours and hours for him to find us...
I barely remember that part...
The next leg of our "trip" was the bus to Portland.
I don't remember talking the entire bus ride...Julie didn't either...I think shock was starting to settle in...
What the hell had just happened?
Needless to say, we made it...
Needless to say, we scared our poor parents and half the community to death...
Now, almost 20 years later, we still tell the story...and when we tell it together, we laugh so hard we can barely breathe. When we tell the story, and we frequently do, my mother still goes berserk, my dad leaves the room, and Julie's mom still starts expressing her dismay in French...
That was a Crazy Ride...
Like life...
We never know what the next day, the next hour, the next minute will bring...
We have to be strong, and believe in ourselves.
Do what needs to be done.
Ask for help sometimes.
Hold onto your shit when the wind is gusting.
Rely on your instincts...
And ALWAYS find humor in your days.
Life is a Crazy, Wonderful Ride.
Bring on the next 40!
Love you Julie.
Mom and Dad~Thanks. Sorry for that. I love you.
Thanks For Reading.
funny.crazy.love.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Vehicle Violation
Thought you might enjoy a quick story that has NOTHING to do with the weather...
Well, it has a little to do with the weather. And this will be quick...
Yesterday I was leaving a business meeting.
While I was in the meeting, it started to snow...not that much, but enough to dust the vehicles that were waiting patiently for their owners...
I had parked in the lot across the road and was quickly, but carefully...(did I mention I fell a couple of weeks ago and ended up in the e.r. with a concussion? I didn't? Well then, this might not be so quick)...
I approached my car and hit the "meepmeep" unlock button on my key chain...
Got to my office on wheels and clumsily loaded my bag and folders onto the passenger seat, my blackberry into the cup holder, kicked the snow from my boots and slipped into the driver's seat...
What the??
My seat was WAY out of position...Did I do that for some reason??
And I looked down and noticed the floor mats were different than I remembered, but...not surprising, I guess..
I reached for my bright green mittens...no mittens? Didn't I leave them on the seat??
And jeez...it looked much cleaner than I remember...
I turned around...I must have tossed my mittens into the back...
Nope.
No mittens.
ANDNOCARSEATS!!!
Holy %$^&
I was in someone.Else's.car.
I could picture alarms blaring and being surrounded by police if I didn't get my sh&* together fast...
I hustled to jump out with my bag, my phone, the stuff I had strewn over the front of this poor soul's unlocked car...I felt like I had committed the crime of the century...
So there I was, unzipped, un-mittened, un-calm...standing in the middle of this parking lot...hoping the owner didn't come out and try to get into his/her vehicle...I "adjusted" the seat to suit my vertically challenged self...and this person MUST have been tall...that seat had been WAAAAAY back...and in my haste to vacate, I didn't re-adjust...
With what must have been a look of sheer panic, I looked around for my car...
Where in the hell did I put it?
Was it stolen? I KNOW I had locked it...I am a bit OCD about locking it...
I started back toward the office building...looking...searching...
Ha.
HAHAHAHA!
There it was...
In another parking lot in another direction...
Hmmm...think I've got a lot on my brain?
I just about broke out into a skidding run toward my filthy, muddy, snowy, crusty vehicle.
meepmeep.
I opened the door.
AAAHHH. Thank goodness.
There were the dirty floor mats. There were my green mittens. The car seats were in place. The seat was perfectly close to the steering wheel.
I put the key into the ignition and started it up.
Homeward.
I drove by the car that I had victimized..it really did look just like mine...ugh. Should I go back and put the seat back?
Naaaah.
Is there a moral here?
Well, I guess...make sure you lock your cars.
There are crazy, preoccupied, short people like me out there wandering the parking lots...
So if you ever get into your car and notice your seat out of whack, or if you find a bright green mitten on the floor under the back seat...don't worry, it was probably me.
Sorry bout that. hehe.
Thanks For Reading.
funny.crazy.love.
Well, it has a little to do with the weather. And this will be quick...
Yesterday I was leaving a business meeting.
While I was in the meeting, it started to snow...not that much, but enough to dust the vehicles that were waiting patiently for their owners...
I had parked in the lot across the road and was quickly, but carefully...(did I mention I fell a couple of weeks ago and ended up in the e.r. with a concussion? I didn't? Well then, this might not be so quick)...
I approached my car and hit the "meepmeep" unlock button on my key chain...
Got to my office on wheels and clumsily loaded my bag and folders onto the passenger seat, my blackberry into the cup holder, kicked the snow from my boots and slipped into the driver's seat...
What the??
My seat was WAY out of position...Did I do that for some reason??
And I looked down and noticed the floor mats were different than I remembered, but...not surprising, I guess..
I reached for my bright green mittens...no mittens? Didn't I leave them on the seat??
And jeez...it looked much cleaner than I remember...
I turned around...I must have tossed my mittens into the back...
Nope.
No mittens.
ANDNOCARSEATS!!!
Holy %$^&
I was in someone.Else's.car.
I could picture alarms blaring and being surrounded by police if I didn't get my sh&* together fast...
I hustled to jump out with my bag, my phone, the stuff I had strewn over the front of this poor soul's unlocked car...I felt like I had committed the crime of the century...
So there I was, unzipped, un-mittened, un-calm...standing in the middle of this parking lot...hoping the owner didn't come out and try to get into his/her vehicle...I "adjusted" the seat to suit my vertically challenged self...and this person MUST have been tall...that seat had been WAAAAAY back...and in my haste to vacate, I didn't re-adjust...
With what must have been a look of sheer panic, I looked around for my car...
Where in the hell did I put it?
Was it stolen? I KNOW I had locked it...I am a bit OCD about locking it...
I started back toward the office building...looking...searching...
Ha.
HAHAHAHA!
There it was...
In another parking lot in another direction...
Hmmm...think I've got a lot on my brain?
I just about broke out into a skidding run toward my filthy, muddy, snowy, crusty vehicle.
meepmeep.
I opened the door.
AAAHHH. Thank goodness.
There were the dirty floor mats. There were my green mittens. The car seats were in place. The seat was perfectly close to the steering wheel.
I put the key into the ignition and started it up.
Homeward.
I drove by the car that I had victimized..it really did look just like mine...ugh. Should I go back and put the seat back?
Naaaah.
Is there a moral here?
Well, I guess...make sure you lock your cars.
There are crazy, preoccupied, short people like me out there wandering the parking lots...
So if you ever get into your car and notice your seat out of whack, or if you find a bright green mitten on the floor under the back seat...don't worry, it was probably me.
Sorry bout that. hehe.
Thanks For Reading.
funny.crazy.love.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Call Me Crazy
Yesterday I was surprised by life once again.
You'd think that nothing much would surprise me after some of the things that have happened, things that I've experienced, events that I've been witness to...
But yesterday was kind of funny. And kind of not funny.
And it all has to do with the telephone.
So yesterday was an all-out, old-fashioned blizzard here in Maine. I had a feeling the night before that there would be no school...and like a kid, I was psyched.
I was up at 5:45 am~and hurray! There was coffee in the new red pot...I sat down and watched my beloved weather. Right away, I heard the Tinker-bellish tones...I HAD A TEXT MESSAGE! It still thrills me a little to get text messages...It was my hubby letting me know that schools in Augusta were cancelled...which meant that I didn't have to trek into my meeting..."aahhh." Sweet Relief.
So I watched the cancellations roll across the screen..."JAY SCHOOLS~CLOSED."
HURRAY!!
Even though I would be working from home, I was going to have the whole day with my babies cozied up together in the house.
I relished the quiet morning. The kids were sleeping~I made chocolate mini-muffins from scratch (well, scratch from a box...I added the eggs and water, though).
Then...the phone rang.
Piercing the silent house. It wasn't even 7am!
It showed up as a cell phone number...I didn't recognize it, but I didn't want the ringing to wake the kids...
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
There was a pause.
"Zack?" A male voice asked me.
"Uuuum. Nope. You must have the wrong number." I explained in most un-Zack-like voice.
"Is this 555-5555?" He asked.
"It is but there is nobody named Zack here."
"Well Amber gave me this number..."
"I don't know Amber and I don't know Zack." I said.
"Oh. I must have the wrong number."
As I hung up the phone I heard the toilet flushing, doors opening, footsteps coming down the hall...
"Happy Snow Day!" I said to the three of my kids. And they took the muffins and headed downstairs to plop in front of Spongebob. The day felt kind of like a holiday...why not?
My husband called to check in.
My mom called to see if I had to go anywhere.
US CELLULAR CALLED to remind me that I needed to pay the bill. Riight. "I'll get right on that." I thought saracstically.
It was barely 8am.
What would we do without phones?
riiing.
diiing.
tinkerbell.
the ding-dong letting me know I have email.
a blackberry message.
a voice mail.
I got to work emailing~It would have been fruitless to try to conduct sales over the phone, people were too pre-occupied with the snow, or businesses were closed all-together. (But I did get one sale, miraculous).
I was working downstairs when my first surprise hit.
My oldest son...
Whenever I see him lately, I'm surprised by how tall he is. He just turned 12. And when he speaks, I have to turn around to be sure that there isn't some strange man in the room...
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Is it okay if I give 'my girlfriend' our home phone number?"
SURPRISE!
"You have a....(choke, but try to hide the choke) girlfriend?"
"I do." He said with a huge smile.
oh.my.lord.
I chug-a-lugged my coffee.
"Wh-who is it?" I asked. Trying to stay calm, but wanting to pass out right over the side of the chair.
He told me the name of the young lady that was now "his girlfriend."
"Didn't you like her last year?" I wanted to talk to him, but found myself trying to remember exactly when he stopped being interested in Pokemon or Bakoogan or whatever used to have his attention.
"Yeah, but she broke up with me, remember? She asked me out again."
I actually saw a few of my own strands of hair turn grey. (I just cut my own bangs. You'd think I would have learned my lesson).
"Look, honey." I tried to be calm. "I understand that you like her, but I think you're kind of young to be 'boyfriend/girlfriend.' I really think seeing her at school is enough."
"Soooooo....No?" He looked horrified.
"Right. No. No for now. Okay?"
Now, my son is a gem. He has never, I mean NEVER given me attitude, or argued with me or disrespected me in any way. BUT... I know when the kid is disappointed.
He just stood there.
Looking at me.
"It's just talking on the phone, Mum."
"I know. But really, I think you are too young. I mean, you can't even cut your own meat! I still have to remind you to brush your teeth!!"
I wanted to scream..."You are still MY BABY!!!"
But I didn't. And he left the room. My heart was pounding. "Here we go." I thought.
The next call was a work call.
Then my husband again.
Then Julie.
And then...
"Private Number."
To me, that means either my husband calling from the station or a doctor's office.
"Hello?"
"Um...Hi....is...Mackenzie there?"
MACKENZIE? My FIVE year old?
"Ummm. Yes...can I ask who is calling?"
And the little voice gave her name "Mary."
"Sure. Hold on please."
I called for my daughter, playing dress-up in her room.
"Mackenzie! You have a phone call!!"
She came running down the stairs, hair bouncing around her shoulders, head to toe in "faux" baubles. Her favorite sparkly "guitar" shirt that she wears when she is pretending to be Taylor Swift...She took the phone like she had been expecting this call all along...
"Hello? Oh, Hi Mary! What are you doing?...Really?...Cool."
Now, Mackenzie has had this imaginary friend named Stacy for about a year, with whom she frequently converses via "cell phone." The conversations she has sound so real, I've said before...I swear there is really a girl named Stacy on the other end, wearing purple nail polish and picking her nose...
But this time, there was really a friend on the other line...
As I listened to her giggle with excitement, I swear my life fast forwarded ten years, when she would really BE fifteen...Not just SOUNDING like she was...
I shook off my reverie and listened as she was making plans for her friend to come over...
"WAAAAITTAAASSECOOND!!" I rushed to her, tripping over my leopard snuggie. (I love that thing).
"Honey, you can't make plans without asking me. I am working today, and there is seventeen feet of snow...I can't invite guests today." I whispered in a hushed panic.
"That's Okay, Mom, she just called to talk." She explained to me.
Of Course. Silly me.
Surprise.
Are kids really doing this at age 5??
And on went the ringing. ALL day.
So much for my quiet day at home. The phone literally kept me on the edge of my seat, or completely off of it, all damned day.
The last straw was this one...
RIIINGG..
Is it just me? Or my aging ears? But as the day begins to wind down, sounds get louder and louder.
I didn't even bother to look at caller i.d.
"Hello?"
Pause.
"Hello?" I asked, irritation tumbling out with the greeting.
"PLEASE HOLD FOR AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM...."
Really? Someone is calling me and asking ME to hold? Are you effing serious? After my lovely snow day was marred by my son, (who, by-the-way, announced on Facebook that he is "IN A RELATIONSHIP")
who was disappointed and likely angry at me for putting the ka-bosh on the boyfriend-girlfriend-phone-thingy. By the realization that time really does fly by...that chocolate-chip-mini-muffins won't always thrill my babes...that Kiki will soon not want to be called Kiki, because she will be too grown up? And she will be chatting on the phone, making plans, without checking with me...
I may have vented all of this to the "important message" recording, I don't know.
So as my day wound to a close, and the kids were in bed, I sat down in my again quiet house.
The phone rang.
And as I jumped to answer it, so the ringing wouldn't wake the kids, I was surprised again.
I stepped right on one of Nick's Pokemon.
Thanks For Reading.
funny.crazy.love.
You'd think that nothing much would surprise me after some of the things that have happened, things that I've experienced, events that I've been witness to...
But yesterday was kind of funny. And kind of not funny.
And it all has to do with the telephone.
So yesterday was an all-out, old-fashioned blizzard here in Maine. I had a feeling the night before that there would be no school...and like a kid, I was psyched.
I was up at 5:45 am~and hurray! There was coffee in the new red pot...I sat down and watched my beloved weather. Right away, I heard the Tinker-bellish tones...I HAD A TEXT MESSAGE! It still thrills me a little to get text messages...It was my hubby letting me know that schools in Augusta were cancelled...which meant that I didn't have to trek into my meeting..."aahhh." Sweet Relief.
So I watched the cancellations roll across the screen..."JAY SCHOOLS~CLOSED."
HURRAY!!
Even though I would be working from home, I was going to have the whole day with my babies cozied up together in the house.
I relished the quiet morning. The kids were sleeping~I made chocolate mini-muffins from scratch (well, scratch from a box...I added the eggs and water, though).
Then...the phone rang.
Piercing the silent house. It wasn't even 7am!
It showed up as a cell phone number...I didn't recognize it, but I didn't want the ringing to wake the kids...
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
There was a pause.
"Zack?" A male voice asked me.
"Uuuum. Nope. You must have the wrong number." I explained in most un-Zack-like voice.
"Is this 555-5555?" He asked.
"It is but there is nobody named Zack here."
"Well Amber gave me this number..."
"I don't know Amber and I don't know Zack." I said.
"Oh. I must have the wrong number."
As I hung up the phone I heard the toilet flushing, doors opening, footsteps coming down the hall...
"Happy Snow Day!" I said to the three of my kids. And they took the muffins and headed downstairs to plop in front of Spongebob. The day felt kind of like a holiday...why not?
My husband called to check in.
My mom called to see if I had to go anywhere.
US CELLULAR CALLED to remind me that I needed to pay the bill. Riight. "I'll get right on that." I thought saracstically.
It was barely 8am.
What would we do without phones?
riiing.
diiing.
tinkerbell.
the ding-dong letting me know I have email.
a blackberry message.
a voice mail.
I got to work emailing~It would have been fruitless to try to conduct sales over the phone, people were too pre-occupied with the snow, or businesses were closed all-together. (But I did get one sale, miraculous).
I was working downstairs when my first surprise hit.
My oldest son...
Whenever I see him lately, I'm surprised by how tall he is. He just turned 12. And when he speaks, I have to turn around to be sure that there isn't some strange man in the room...
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Is it okay if I give 'my girlfriend' our home phone number?"
SURPRISE!
"You have a....(choke, but try to hide the choke) girlfriend?"
"I do." He said with a huge smile.
oh.my.lord.
I chug-a-lugged my coffee.
"Wh-who is it?" I asked. Trying to stay calm, but wanting to pass out right over the side of the chair.
He told me the name of the young lady that was now "his girlfriend."
"Didn't you like her last year?" I wanted to talk to him, but found myself trying to remember exactly when he stopped being interested in Pokemon or Bakoogan or whatever used to have his attention.
"Yeah, but she broke up with me, remember? She asked me out again."
I actually saw a few of my own strands of hair turn grey. (I just cut my own bangs. You'd think I would have learned my lesson).
"Look, honey." I tried to be calm. "I understand that you like her, but I think you're kind of young to be 'boyfriend/girlfriend.' I really think seeing her at school is enough."
"Soooooo....No?" He looked horrified.
"Right. No. No for now. Okay?"
Now, my son is a gem. He has never, I mean NEVER given me attitude, or argued with me or disrespected me in any way. BUT... I know when the kid is disappointed.
He just stood there.
Looking at me.
"It's just talking on the phone, Mum."
"I know. But really, I think you are too young. I mean, you can't even cut your own meat! I still have to remind you to brush your teeth!!"
I wanted to scream..."You are still MY BABY!!!"
But I didn't. And he left the room. My heart was pounding. "Here we go." I thought.
The next call was a work call.
Then my husband again.
Then Julie.
And then...
"Private Number."
To me, that means either my husband calling from the station or a doctor's office.
"Hello?"
"Um...Hi....is...Mackenzie there?"
MACKENZIE? My FIVE year old?
"Ummm. Yes...can I ask who is calling?"
And the little voice gave her name "Mary."
"Sure. Hold on please."
I called for my daughter, playing dress-up in her room.
"Mackenzie! You have a phone call!!"
She came running down the stairs, hair bouncing around her shoulders, head to toe in "faux" baubles. Her favorite sparkly "guitar" shirt that she wears when she is pretending to be Taylor Swift...She took the phone like she had been expecting this call all along...
"Hello? Oh, Hi Mary! What are you doing?...Really?...Cool."
Now, Mackenzie has had this imaginary friend named Stacy for about a year, with whom she frequently converses via "cell phone." The conversations she has sound so real, I've said before...I swear there is really a girl named Stacy on the other end, wearing purple nail polish and picking her nose...
But this time, there was really a friend on the other line...
As I listened to her giggle with excitement, I swear my life fast forwarded ten years, when she would really BE fifteen...Not just SOUNDING like she was...
I shook off my reverie and listened as she was making plans for her friend to come over...
"WAAAAITTAAASSECOOND!!" I rushed to her, tripping over my leopard snuggie. (I love that thing).
"Honey, you can't make plans without asking me. I am working today, and there is seventeen feet of snow...I can't invite guests today." I whispered in a hushed panic.
"That's Okay, Mom, she just called to talk." She explained to me.
Of Course. Silly me.
Surprise.
Are kids really doing this at age 5??
And on went the ringing. ALL day.
So much for my quiet day at home. The phone literally kept me on the edge of my seat, or completely off of it, all damned day.
The last straw was this one...
RIIINGG..
Is it just me? Or my aging ears? But as the day begins to wind down, sounds get louder and louder.
I didn't even bother to look at caller i.d.
"Hello?"
Pause.
"Hello?" I asked, irritation tumbling out with the greeting.
"PLEASE HOLD FOR AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM...."
Really? Someone is calling me and asking ME to hold? Are you effing serious? After my lovely snow day was marred by my son, (who, by-the-way, announced on Facebook that he is "IN A RELATIONSHIP")
who was disappointed and likely angry at me for putting the ka-bosh on the boyfriend-girlfriend-phone-thingy. By the realization that time really does fly by...that chocolate-chip-mini-muffins won't always thrill my babes...that Kiki will soon not want to be called Kiki, because she will be too grown up? And she will be chatting on the phone, making plans, without checking with me...
I may have vented all of this to the "important message" recording, I don't know.
So as my day wound to a close, and the kids were in bed, I sat down in my again quiet house.
The phone rang.
And as I jumped to answer it, so the ringing wouldn't wake the kids, I was surprised again.
I stepped right on one of Nick's Pokemon.
Thanks For Reading.
funny.crazy.love.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Merry Christmas
Among the crazy piles of boxes
And the tape and wrap and bags
I thought about the woman
That I saw was dressed in rags
She was standing on the corner
Midst the traffic and the snow
Holding up a sign that said she had no place to go
And could I give a little
To help this holiday
The sign said she was homeless
And had no job that gave her pay
I doubt the change I gave to her
Helped her out too much
But doing so helped me to see
I had gotten out of touch~
The worry and the hustle
And the rush and all the baking
To pile up all the presents
For my kids as they are waking
On Christmas morning as my kids come flying down the stairs
I want them to remember
All the blessings that are theirs
And so I wrapped and prayed for all of those who are in need
And I promised not to forget
The reason for my deed~
So remember as the hustle and the bustle cloud the reason
To be grateful that we have enough to celebrate this season
Its not about the presents or the stress to which it lends
Its sharing in the spirit with our families and friends.
So Merry, Merry Christmas
To all of you and yours
And may the Beauty of This Season
Come flowing through your doors.
Thanks For Reading
funny.crazy.love.
And the tape and wrap and bags
I thought about the woman
That I saw was dressed in rags
She was standing on the corner
Midst the traffic and the snow
Holding up a sign that said she had no place to go
And could I give a little
To help this holiday
The sign said she was homeless
And had no job that gave her pay
I doubt the change I gave to her
Helped her out too much
But doing so helped me to see
I had gotten out of touch~
The worry and the hustle
And the rush and all the baking
To pile up all the presents
For my kids as they are waking
On Christmas morning as my kids come flying down the stairs
I want them to remember
All the blessings that are theirs
And so I wrapped and prayed for all of those who are in need
And I promised not to forget
The reason for my deed~
So remember as the hustle and the bustle cloud the reason
To be grateful that we have enough to celebrate this season
Its not about the presents or the stress to which it lends
Its sharing in the spirit with our families and friends.
So Merry, Merry Christmas
To all of you and yours
And may the Beauty of This Season
Come flowing through your doors.
Thanks For Reading
funny.crazy.love.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Mourning Coffee
It became a part of our family, sort of by accident a bit over 6 years ago.
When we got married, we got this gift certificate for a pretty large amount to a pretty swanky store, that we pretty much would never have stepped foot in, unless of course we had a pretty penny to spend on things we really didn't NEED. You know?
But we DID have this gift certificate. So we took a little trip to the big city.
Inside this store, we both, I mean, my husband and I, wandered around, looking for something on which we could spend this gift certificate. The things in the store were beautiful~don't get me wrong~but one thing that we both have in common is that we don't spend money on things that we don't NEED. (Well, at least I don't. My husband has been banned from "stopping to pick up milk" due to his recent "impulse" buys, like 12 boxes of light bulbs, or new "funnels" just in case they would ever come in handy, anyway...that's another story)...
So again, this particular store was filled with unnecessary items~pottery, massive candles, hand-crafted sculpture-like-things-that-you-put-on-your-mantle-if-you-have-one, things that I would not likely spend money on...except we had this "fun" money...
We walked slowly around the store...picking up one thing, shaking our heads, "No." Stopping in front of another thing. "How about this?"
"Uuummmm....not so much."
It really wasn't our kind of stuff.
"Can I help you find something?" The hippy-ish clerk asked.
Neither of us had any idea.
"Have you been upstairs? There is a whole other department up there..."
Coffee.
Rich people coffee. Java. Espresso machines. Cappuccino makers. Stirrers. Grinders. Beans. Mugs. Spoons. Mixers. Coffee books. Coffee magazines. Coffee experts in fancy coffee aprons...
Coffee pots.
Not just your average department store brand coffee makers. Not that there was anything wrong with average department store brand coffee makers... I mean, we had a perfectly good, well-functioning, Mr. Coffee at home...
We were happy.
We had coffee every morning.
It was fine coffee, too.
But these machines were different. They looked different. They were stainless steel trimmed, sleek black and sturdy. Stallions.
Guaranteed to brew the perfect cup o' joe.
We peered over the models.
They were spectacular.
And we had a gift certificate.
Did we need one of these beauties?
Nope.
Had we ever even discussed the notion of owning one of these masters of coffee makers?
Never.
They cost almost as much as two car payments for heaven's sake!!
But here we were...standing face to face with owning one of the best...
What the hell else were we going to buy? A forty pound beeswax candle? A miniature sculpture of "The Thinker?"
We had to spend it on SOMETHING!
So we did. AND we had enough left over to buy the "Burger Bible" cookbook.
This coffee pot had an instruction manual the size of the dictionary. We learned the basics, plugged it in, and pushed start.
And THAT was the beginning of our beautiful relationship with our coffee pot.
The coffee that it produced was better than any I had EVER had. DD, Starbucks, here, there...wherever. This was superior java.
If our guests had it, they all commented. It was GOOD. It was SO GOOD.
I looked forward to it every single morning. The best was when my hubby made it before he left for work and it was waiting for me when I padded into the kitchen, poured, and sat to watch the weather before the kids came trampling down the stairs. It was pre-perked heaven in a cup.
For 6 years.
Then, in the last couple of months, it started taking a little longer than usual to brew.
It would sigh and heave and gurgle sounds that it never made before.
Oh...it still tasted great, but it was certainly showing its signs of aging.
THANKSGIVING MORNING, 2010.
I was so excited to make my coffee and start the holiday traditions: cinnamon buns for the kids, coffee for me while I started baking...
I put the coffee in the filter. I poured the water in. I pushed "on."
Nothing.
I stood there and stared at it for a good 3 minutes.
Nothing.
I gave it a little "love tap."
Still Nothing.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
Oh, Dear God, NO!!
I pushed the button to "off."
Unplugged it. Plugged it back in.
Nope...
I was in a state of complete panic.
My husband came in and saw my face.
"What's wrong?"
"ITSNOTCOMINGON!"
He came over and gave it a smack on the side.
"I know...it's been like this for a while." He said.
I gave it a smack. Then another.
Then, the life giving "HIIISSSSSSSSS" sound graced my ears as it started brewing.
A collective sigh of relief blended with the percolating sounds of our beloved machine.
But we knew it then.
Its days were numbered.
In the days that followed, we took turns smacking it, shaking it, cussing at it, plugging-UN-plugging-plugging it into different places around the kitchen, trying to set the timer, using hot water, colder water...cleaning it, praying in front of it, cleaning it again, standing in front of it with our ears next to the base of it...hoping for it to brew...
At first it would go after a couple of shakes and smacks...but as the days passed, we had to beat it longer and harder. Shake it to the point of crazy. The kids were waking up to one of us literally beating the crap out of the coffee maker. We knew it was not long before we would have to buy a...
dun-duh-dunnnn...
replacement.
So, we searched high and low...on-line, in stores, in the holiday fliers...for a respectable, yet practical, new maker.
We found one.
It looked like a beauty. Decent price.
Sturdy. Not too many options...12 cup...and RED. (I like that. It looks sharp).
My husband asked before he hit "send" on the order..."You SURE?"
"I'm sure."
"Really sure?"
"Ugh. I guess so."
SEND.
It was done.
I can't help but feel oddly sentimental about it.
It was, after all, a wedding gift. It was REALLY nice. It made excellent coffee every.single.day.
So for the past few days, we had waited for the new machine to arrive. And, of course, yesterday, our trusty old maker started brewing at the first push of the button...much like the day of a scheduled hair cut, you have a great hair day...anyway...it was almost like it knew...I know that sounds crazy. I 'm tearing up...
But this morning...OH!THIS!MORNING!
It would NOT start. I was trying to figure out how to make a DD run in my jammies...My husband was pacing in front of it...he had to leave for work...it was not gonna brew. it was over.
I unplugged it for the final time.
Then the doorbell rang...
It was our new coffee pot. (IT didn't ring the bell, the UPS guy did...)
I took it from him like it was a newborn.
I tore it out of the box and placed it on the counter, where I hope it will remain for many years.
I called my husband. "It's here."
When he got home this evening, we just stood looking at it. He filled it and set the timer.
"I feel like going to bed now, so morning will get here faster." He said. (Love him).
And so it goes. At least, I hope.
Thanks to my Uncle Jim for the inspiration for the title of this...Thanks to the friends-who gave us the gc in the first place-Thanks to the folks at KRUPP'S...It was a hell of a ride.
I love my coffee.
Oh, and we still have the "Burger Bible."
Books are forever, you know.
That is all.
thanks for reading.
funny.crazy.love
When we got married, we got this gift certificate for a pretty large amount to a pretty swanky store, that we pretty much would never have stepped foot in, unless of course we had a pretty penny to spend on things we really didn't NEED. You know?
But we DID have this gift certificate. So we took a little trip to the big city.
Inside this store, we both, I mean, my husband and I, wandered around, looking for something on which we could spend this gift certificate. The things in the store were beautiful~don't get me wrong~but one thing that we both have in common is that we don't spend money on things that we don't NEED. (Well, at least I don't. My husband has been banned from "stopping to pick up milk" due to his recent "impulse" buys, like 12 boxes of light bulbs, or new "funnels" just in case they would ever come in handy, anyway...that's another story)...
So again, this particular store was filled with unnecessary items~pottery, massive candles, hand-crafted sculpture-like-things-that-you-put-on-your-mantle-if-you-have-one, things that I would not likely spend money on...except we had this "fun" money...
We walked slowly around the store...picking up one thing, shaking our heads, "No." Stopping in front of another thing. "How about this?"
"Uuummmm....not so much."
It really wasn't our kind of stuff.
"Can I help you find something?" The hippy-ish clerk asked.
Neither of us had any idea.
"Have you been upstairs? There is a whole other department up there..."
Coffee.
Rich people coffee. Java. Espresso machines. Cappuccino makers. Stirrers. Grinders. Beans. Mugs. Spoons. Mixers. Coffee books. Coffee magazines. Coffee experts in fancy coffee aprons...
Coffee pots.
Not just your average department store brand coffee makers. Not that there was anything wrong with average department store brand coffee makers... I mean, we had a perfectly good, well-functioning, Mr. Coffee at home...
We were happy.
We had coffee every morning.
It was fine coffee, too.
But these machines were different. They looked different. They were stainless steel trimmed, sleek black and sturdy. Stallions.
Guaranteed to brew the perfect cup o' joe.
We peered over the models.
They were spectacular.
And we had a gift certificate.
Did we need one of these beauties?
Nope.
Had we ever even discussed the notion of owning one of these masters of coffee makers?
Never.
They cost almost as much as two car payments for heaven's sake!!
But here we were...standing face to face with owning one of the best...
What the hell else were we going to buy? A forty pound beeswax candle? A miniature sculpture of "The Thinker?"
We had to spend it on SOMETHING!
So we did. AND we had enough left over to buy the "Burger Bible" cookbook.
This coffee pot had an instruction manual the size of the dictionary. We learned the basics, plugged it in, and pushed start.
And THAT was the beginning of our beautiful relationship with our coffee pot.
The coffee that it produced was better than any I had EVER had. DD, Starbucks, here, there...wherever. This was superior java.
If our guests had it, they all commented. It was GOOD. It was SO GOOD.
I looked forward to it every single morning. The best was when my hubby made it before he left for work and it was waiting for me when I padded into the kitchen, poured, and sat to watch the weather before the kids came trampling down the stairs. It was pre-perked heaven in a cup.
For 6 years.
Then, in the last couple of months, it started taking a little longer than usual to brew.
It would sigh and heave and gurgle sounds that it never made before.
Oh...it still tasted great, but it was certainly showing its signs of aging.
THANKSGIVING MORNING, 2010.
I was so excited to make my coffee and start the holiday traditions: cinnamon buns for the kids, coffee for me while I started baking...
I put the coffee in the filter. I poured the water in. I pushed "on."
Nothing.
I stood there and stared at it for a good 3 minutes.
Nothing.
I gave it a little "love tap."
Still Nothing.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
Oh, Dear God, NO!!
I pushed the button to "off."
Unplugged it. Plugged it back in.
Nope...
I was in a state of complete panic.
My husband came in and saw my face.
"What's wrong?"
"ITSNOTCOMINGON!"
He came over and gave it a smack on the side.
"I know...it's been like this for a while." He said.
I gave it a smack. Then another.
Then, the life giving "HIIISSSSSSSSS" sound graced my ears as it started brewing.
A collective sigh of relief blended with the percolating sounds of our beloved machine.
But we knew it then.
Its days were numbered.
In the days that followed, we took turns smacking it, shaking it, cussing at it, plugging-UN-plugging-plugging it into different places around the kitchen, trying to set the timer, using hot water, colder water...cleaning it, praying in front of it, cleaning it again, standing in front of it with our ears next to the base of it...hoping for it to brew...
At first it would go after a couple of shakes and smacks...but as the days passed, we had to beat it longer and harder. Shake it to the point of crazy. The kids were waking up to one of us literally beating the crap out of the coffee maker. We knew it was not long before we would have to buy a...
dun-duh-dunnnn...
replacement.
So, we searched high and low...on-line, in stores, in the holiday fliers...for a respectable, yet practical, new maker.
We found one.
It looked like a beauty. Decent price.
Sturdy. Not too many options...12 cup...and RED. (I like that. It looks sharp).
My husband asked before he hit "send" on the order..."You SURE?"
"I'm sure."
"Really sure?"
"Ugh. I guess so."
SEND.
It was done.
I can't help but feel oddly sentimental about it.
It was, after all, a wedding gift. It was REALLY nice. It made excellent coffee every.single.day.
So for the past few days, we had waited for the new machine to arrive. And, of course, yesterday, our trusty old maker started brewing at the first push of the button...much like the day of a scheduled hair cut, you have a great hair day...anyway...it was almost like it knew...I know that sounds crazy. I 'm tearing up...
But this morning...OH!THIS!MORNING!
It would NOT start. I was trying to figure out how to make a DD run in my jammies...My husband was pacing in front of it...he had to leave for work...it was not gonna brew. it was over.
I unplugged it for the final time.
Then the doorbell rang...
It was our new coffee pot. (IT didn't ring the bell, the UPS guy did...)
I took it from him like it was a newborn.
I tore it out of the box and placed it on the counter, where I hope it will remain for many years.
I called my husband. "It's here."
When he got home this evening, we just stood looking at it. He filled it and set the timer.
"I feel like going to bed now, so morning will get here faster." He said. (Love him).
And so it goes. At least, I hope.
Thanks to my Uncle Jim for the inspiration for the title of this...Thanks to the friends-who gave us the gc in the first place-Thanks to the folks at KRUPP'S...It was a hell of a ride.
I love my coffee.
Oh, and we still have the "Burger Bible."
Books are forever, you know.
That is all.
thanks for reading.
funny.crazy.love
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