THE LONG GOODBYE

On April 28, 1945 in Giulino di Mezzegra near Lake Como, Mussolini attempted an escape to Switzerland with his mistress Clara Petacci. Italian partisans captured and shot them.  Among the crowd that witnessed this event was a young Italian girl named Felicita.  It would prove to be a defining story in her life, one that changed her forever.

Felicita went on to marry and migrate to America, where she settled in Forestville California.  Her husband went to work for Bohemian Grove as an accountant.  Felicita stayed home raising a daughter, a son and invested her husband's earnings, slowly building a small fortune.

Felicita's daughter Lily (Liliana) would grow up locally and first cast her eyes on my older brother Michael from across the dance floor at a Santa Rosa hot spot named Refectory.  She was underage, but it didn't stop her from persuing a relationship with my brother, who was almost 10 years her senior.

It was the same place where my brother introduced me to Rich for the very first time.  So many people I know, met and married from going out dancing at the Refectory.  Well ... Sparks was a great band.

I don't remember when I first met Felicita, being a strong "old school" Italian, she was all about meeting the families.  I know I liked her immediately, as she reminded me of the only Nonno (grandpa) I ever knew, Isidor D'Angelo.  My mother's father died when she was three and my Irish Grandma married a Sicilian.  Seems he had left Sicily to escape joining the mob.  My two uncles are half Irish/ half Italian.

I was right at home in the craziness that was to be the other Italian side of my family.  From the very beginning Felicita would say, "What you doing width him (pointing to Rich)?  He no Italian.  He no love you and provide for you like a Italian man.  We need find you a good Italian!"  I would always laugh.

Lily and my brother married in 1983 and Felicita became like an aunt to me.  Every time she saw me and Rich she would complain that he was "No right for you!"  Until finally one celebration night where the entire family was having dinner at Cattlemens restaurant.  Felicita was seated directly across from us and as usual, she poured the wine and began to tell me of the latest Italian man she found for me.  Not able to take it anymore, Rich cleared his throat and said, "I AM Italian!"  Felicita stops, and stares at him.  "You no Italian.  Johnson no Italian name!"  Rich presses on, "Johnson is my adopted name, my real last name is Cichello".  Felicita stares at him for a moment, gets out her purse and a piece of paper and says, "How you spell?"  "C I C H E L L O" Rich slowly answers as his face turns red from containing his anger.  She writes it out, stares at it and says "He's ok Cathi - you can marry" and from then on Rich was good enough for me.

Through the years she watched Mike and Lily have children, Shannon and Jonny.  She was there for my wedding shower and baby shower and held Brian in her arms.  Once I was divorced she mailed me money from time to time, saying she saw how hard I worked and wanted "Just to help a little".  Every Christmas she spoiled Brian rotten.  We saw the death of her husband from cancer and the marriage of her son.  Over a 25 year span, we saw many Easter picnics, Christmas dinners, birthday parties, Thanksgiving banquets, funeral processions and Italian club dinners.

At every function she would look to see if I brought a new man.  If not, she would tell me about some Italian restaurant owner who is single that she wanted to fix me up with.  From time to time I would get a call from some 75 year old man asking me out for a blind date.  When I would tell Felicita he was too old she would always say "Oh pshhhh, he owns blah blah and drives this and that etc etc and will take good care of you and Brian. I no worry about you no more then!"  I would refuse the date and receive a lecture from Felicita about being "too fussy".  But she would often go on to say, "You are amazing bright girl who always find good job - you no depend on no one.  This is good.  My daughter could learn much from you!"

Two years ago we got the news that Felicita had cancer.  The news arrived along the same time that Mike and Lily's marriage began to fail.  Once Lily and Mike filed for divorce Felicita said, "It was the end to me". She was right about that point.

Felicita left this world on Saturday May 27th 2006 at 9:30 in the morning. She died at home, in her king size bed surrounded by family and paintings of Italy.

Once again, I have lost family to cancer and our family is forever changed.  It is a constant theme in my life that life is gone in a moment and we must all seize the day. So few people really get it.  

I will sure miss her and all her Italianess...

A brief candle; both ends burning
An endless mile; a bus wheel turning
A friend to share the lonesome times
A handshake and a sip of wine
So say it loud and let it ring
We are all a part of everything
The future, present and the past
Fly on proud bird
You're free at last.

Until next time-

C

PS.  My son Brian's birthday is April 28th ... imagine what Felicita thought of this ... and ... what are the odds?  Brian was born EXACTLY 50 years to the date that Mossallini was shot in front of Felicita.

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AIRBORNE EARLY WARNING

Does everyone remember my term “Guydar”?

 

Guydar is a name I gave to the event when guys you haven’t heard from start contacting you again just as you are getting on with your life.  Guydar is a system that uses some sort of special guy frequency waves to detect, determine the distance or speed of which a female object of their affection is pulling away and target said female. Detection of another man by the guy is measured by the amount of interest the object of their affection’s frequency shifts off them.  Some sort of secret transmitter emits the “female is distracted” waves, which are reflected by the female target and detected by the x boyfriend, x husband, x lover, x dog etc (typically not in the same location). This transmission forces the guy to call, email or in some way begin contacting the target once again.

 

GUYDAR.

 

So John has a case of Guydar…

   

In a message dated 5/30/2006 7:22:51 A.M. Pacific Standard Time

 

Subject:  I am coming for you girl......

 

John_____@_____________.com writes:

 

I hope you will be there the weekend of 6/30 - 7/2.

  

John

VP - Controller

Investment Management Co.

 

So what’s your secret John?

 

C

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REDHEADISMS

A husband had just finished reading a new book entitled: "Guide to living with a redhead: You Can Be the Man of Your House."

 

He stormed into the kitchen and walked directly up to his redheaded wife and said sternly, "From now on, you need to know that I am the man of this house and my word is law! You will prepare me a gourmet meal tonight, and when I'm finished eating my meal, you will serve me a sumptuous dessert. After dinner you are going to go upstairs with me, and we will have the kind of sex that I want instead of what you want. After that, you are going to draw me my bath so I can relax. You will wash my back and towel me dry and bring me my robe. Then you will massage my feet and hands. Then after that's
done, guess who's going to dress me and comb my hair?"

To which the redhead replied, "The funeral director would be my guess..."

ILLUSION

Magic can be defined as something that seems to cast a spell.  I am spellbound by what is unfolding before me in my life - pure magic. 

After such a long arduous journey, I suddenly find myself basking in the sunlight again.  It is so bright, in fact, that I must put my hand above my forhead to filter the happiness that is reigning down on me.  Otherwise I wouldn't be able to focus, let alone breathe.

McYummy and I have chatted almost every day and I find him quite facinating ... almost the male version of me ... yet strong in the areas I am weak.  I know God brought him into my life - I feel it in my bones.  Now if I can only remember to breathe when he is around.  That's all I need is to pass out and hit my head on a chair as I fall to the floor...

Side bar: Old friends are coming to work with me and suddenly I am finding I am accidently starting a small Mortgage Company.  How did THAT happen?

Maybe they all want to rescue me from having to be around my x husband ... a buffer.

They are very positive, spiritual people.  Wow...to work around people that are happy all the time ... what a concept.

Of course, they in turn, are forced to be around the redhead...

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

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HAVE FUN, EVEN IF IT KILLS YOU...

Ok, so as the Lucille Ball of erotic redheads I think there are some of you out there who can appreciate the start to my weekend.

After Friday's craziness I decide to postpone leaving for Folsom until Saturday.  I bring home Sushi and pull out a movie to relax.  I have a nice evening and retire to bed early.  I decide to flip on the dishwasher as I go off to bed.

Once in bed I can't sleep, so I decide to riffle through my own personal toy chest, settling for one of my old electric standards.  I close my eyes, relax into the rich fantasy that is a redheads brain.  Midway into my erotic fantasy, a loud boom sounds and all the electricity goes off.  KAPUT.

At first I thought all the electricity on the block was out, just MY luck - mid fantasy.  I rise from the bed and look outside to a fully lit street.  Curious, I walk out my front door (yes I put on a robe people) only to find neighbors lights and the outdoor lights are all on.

Seems I blew a fuse - how is that for some powerful redheaded mojo?

I go back inside to a black home and riffle around searching for a lighter.  When I can't find one to light a candle, suddenly I begin to get a little scared, just like when I was a little girl alone in the dark.  It's funny the things that can come up in the middle of the night - even as an adult.

I finally find a lighter and light a few candles. Great, now I have ambiance and no batteries.  I am not going to the store.  I find my way to the indoor breaker switches and trip them all - nothing.  To hell with it - I go back to bed and fall asleep.

The next morning I awake to no electricity.  I go out to the outside box and I can't get the outside breaker switch to stay on.  I tell you - that is some old "toy"  I've got.  No wonder I am not remarried.

Now I can't go to Folsom, because I have to call for an electrician to come out and get my electricity turned back on.  Thank GOD there is a Starbucks two blocks away.  The electrician tries to tell me to just flip on the outside switch.  I hate it when men treat women like we can't tie our shoes on our own.  I explain that I have tried that SEVERAL times.  The electrician has no idea what I will do for my first cup of morning coffee...

So he agrees to come out and take a look.  I go off to Starbucks and stop by work to complete some leftover loan problems from Friday.  While I am there, the electrician calls me on the cell "All fixed" he tells me.  I go home and find the lights on ... and my toy vibrating away under the covers in my bed.

You know, you just can't make this shi* up...

Until next time-

C

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ONE NEED NOT BE IN A CHAMBER TO BE HAUNTED...

It was an eventful week, well in the terms of my life. 

I joined the gym and worked out.  I still get tired after the work out, but I sleep like a baby.  Baby sleep is heaven after almost three years of waking up, or staying up most of the night, and finally getting my best sleep at 6 am.

I was thinking about this on Thursday evening, when I saw Oscar at Brian's Back-To-School night.  He was sitting on a stone wall at the edge of the garden, just off the playground.  He was in jeans and a blue shirt.  Somehow my eyes always find him in a crowd.

Oscar and I were dating as I just came into the disease.  He was hurting, really bleeding from his own divorce, and there I was slowly deteriorating before his eyes. His wife had left him for someone else, and no matter how hard he tried to be a good guy, he was permanently damaged material.  In spite of this, he did manage to chase me around my living room to lots of laughter.

Once when the doctors were still scratching their heads as to what was wrong, Oscar calls and says, "I know you feel like shi*, but I have this movie your son would like, and if you tell me what you both want, I'll bring it over and feed you both dinner."  Brian wanted pizza, so Oscar ordered Brian's favorite and came over with some blood thirsty movie that Brian loved.

I layed on the couch in my jammies under a blanket while Oscar sat at the end, watching Brian and me.  It was kind, because Brian must have been confused about what was happening to his once very lively mom, and there was Oscar bringing a normal Friday night into our home.  I hate violent movies, so I spent most of the movie hidden under my blanket with Oscar and Brian making fun of me.

Once the movie ended, Oscar picked up the plates and bid us farewell and went on home.  It was truly a kind jesture.  I am not sure I ever really thanked him.  I was so caught up in fear about what was happening to me and my body.  My father was diagnosed with cancer when he was my age and was dead at 48.  Every time a drop of my blood was drawn, an x-ray crossed my body, a sonogram, or an examination, I would remember my dad.  It was hell.

Eventually I couldn't handle Oscar's hurt and my fear of what was happening to me and I pushed him away with all my might.  He wasn't the guy for me, but that is not to say that I didn't find him wonderful.  I loved our long phone conversations in the middle of the night,  He would always seek me out online, and ask, "Can't sleep?"  To which I'd reply, "No".  He then would say "Want me to call you" and I'd say, "Yes please".  The phone would ring before I could turn out the lights.  I'd crawl in bed and Oscar would begin to tell me a story.  I love a good story.

He'd get me to laugh and forget my fears.  We'd talk of Mexico and business, work outs and chocolate, boys verses girls, children, you name it until he would wear me out with laughter.  Exhausted I would begin to drift off.  He would then say "It's time for sleep" and say good night.

He understood the hard time my x husband had given me.  He told me that some men just don't ever forgive you for leaving, and since he thought I was especially sweet, he surmised that my x would attempt to haunt me forever.  The prospect of this didn't seem to bother him much since he is twice my x husband's size.  My x once said, "Gee that guy is big enough to kick my ass".  Of which I responded "One can only hope..."

Oscar often would say, "Catherine you are like a beautiful fast train pulling out of the station and I am the guy left on the platform watching you speed off into an amazing future."  I used to answer, "Then just get on before I leave".  But he couldn't.  He was too broken.

So there he was, the man I run from in Albertsons, who God with his sick sense of humor seems to enjoy throwing us togther, sitting just beyond me at my son's school night.  I knew he had seen Brian perform, but I couldn't look at him.  I couldn't go talk to him.  It is just the way I am.  I wouldn't talk to my x if it weren't for Brian.  The women who come around him at the office think that he must be wonderful if his x wife is around.  I am often amazed at how clueless women are to the fact that I am only around for Brian.  All of this is about Brian,  Oscar got that.  He would say,  "The kids come first".

I wonder if he could tell that I am doing better and am on my way back from hell.  I saw him watch us we walked away to my son's classroom.  He has this way of looking at me with these haunting gazes. (Maybe he is really thinking oh shit there she is - that redheaded nut! lol).  Life is often so much about timing.

Brian is counting the days to the end of school.  I am right there with him. 

A woman I know in the business brought in 17 construction loans to the office on Thursday.  I wanted to go away to Folsom and play this weekend, but it is looking more and more like there is too much work here.

I did manage to start painting the bathroom...

Hey - sex could be next.

Until next time-

C

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THE FUTURE LOOKS SWEATY

Oh, and yes - I joined the gym.  My first trainer-kill me session is at 8:30 tomorrow morning.  TA DA.

I would rather take pole dance lessons (and I am not kidding) but there is no S Factor studio in podunk Santa Rosa (www.sfactor.com).  The closest is in SF.  Actually, there aren't any good dance classes for older women in Santa Rosa - or even Sonoma County for that matter.  I think if a woman opened a dance studio for women over 35 that incorporated the S Factor and Yoga to dance music, etc etc she'd make a killing.

I'd love to move to music in a way that doesn't involve fake steps, lunges, or running in place.  DANCING - real DANCING to burn those calories.  Teach us club moves where we don't look like we are in the Army Boot camp.  Even better, how about some sexual position strengthening exercises?

But hey - I'll just have to start with the usual.  If my place was bigger I'd buy that pole from S Factor with the video and start the classes myself.

Until next time-

C

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SYMPOSING THAT...

McYummy and I had lunch today.

He makes me think of Von Meck's statement, "...I am conscious that you are near; your presence seems  to inhabit the air  about me ...your nearness is a never-ending delight..."  I cannot find the words to properly express how relaxed I feel when we are together.  It's nice.  It is like he can say anything to me, and I to him.  I have found a shady spot away from the heat.

McYummy dear, in honor of our lunch conversation in regards to Plato I post the following ... in case you should stop by here for a read:

According to Plato's creation story in the Symposium... In the beginning there was only one human. And this human was "created perfection." The strange thing was that this first "created perfection" human had all the "necessary" male parts, as well as having all the "necessary" female parts. But this perfect human felt they had everything and did not need the Gods.  So Zeus tragically split the human apart – and since then, the two halves have been forever searching for one another in order to join together and regain their sense of original created wholeness. "Each of us when separated, having one side only... is but indenture of a man, and he is always looking for his other half."

McYummy, you still must admit ... it's a great story.

Until next time-

C

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SUNSHINE IN THE MORNING

It was a sweet Mother's Day weekend. Brian and I went out on a "date" dinner Friday night.  I love doing this with him.  We like to go to this local Japanese restaurant where we brush up on our chop sticks skills.

Saturday we attended the annual Operating Engineer's Picnic at the fairgrounds.  All the state and local politicians were there schmoozing before election season.  My mother was eyeing the group for my next husband.  No thank you.  My redheaded background would create a media frenzy.  Besides, I can't take that kind of sales man.

My brother is a union official with the operators union - thus why we were there in support.  Plus, he was the bartender. 

I awoke Sunday morning with a hug from Brian wishing me a Happy Mother's Day... and a cold.  Seems I somehow managed to catch a head cold.  I guess it was my Mother's Day gift.  Laying in bed, wishing to sleep the day away, the phone rings and Brian brings it to me.  To my surprise, it's McYummy wishing me a Happy Mother's Day.  There I was, laying in bed with the sweet sound of his melodic cheerful voice over the phone.  How kind of him to call.  He is a great guy.  Yes ladies, they do still exist.

After the call, I forced myself to get up and face the day.  I invited my mother for dinner, so I needed to get my place in order.  No rest for mommy. 

In the end I grilled prawns, made a seafood ceaser salad and some small sushi pieces.  We ate in my patio under the warmth of the California sun.  We sipped Pino Grigio with ice and opened gifts and cards.  Brian enjoyed being the only man among the girls.  He kept it real by wiping his hands on his shorts.  A guy can't have too much estrogen in the room - have to balance it with some 'guy' behavior.

I collapsed into bed after Grey's Anatomy.  Brian and Boonie were snoring in Brian's room.  It was a nice day - cold and all.

I am joining a gym this week - doctor or no doctors orders.  I can't take it anymore and I have to go back to a regular work out.  The meds seem to be working and I am feeling so much better.  So here I go ignoring my doctor again...

Hey - it's Mother's Day week!

Until next time-

C

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HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

..."Before you were conceived I wanted you
Before you were born I loved you
Before you were here an hour I would die for you
This is the miracle of life" ... ~M Hawkins

HOMEWORK BLUES

Is there EVER a night that kids do not have homework?  I am so sick of it I could scream.  Brian has yet another large project that will come due by the end of the year.  Enough already people.  The kids are mentally done - I am done - we all are done.

I am tired of teachers saying that homework should only take 45 minutes (at the longest) each night.  Really?  I just want to decapitate a Barbie doll every time I hear that statement.  Have they ever seem my son do his 45-minute-takes-two-hours homework?  And he is not the only one.  Even as a math whiz, the math part is 45 minutes alone - then add on the other crap.  It is an easy hour to three hours a day depending on the subject.

How many of you have an extra 45 minutes a day?  Brian isn't coming home and watching TV, surfing the net or playing videos.  He goes out and rides his bike, plays with the dog - boy things - experiences he needs at the end of a day of being cooped up in a classroom.  This also varies depending on swim lessons, football practise, catechism and any extra curricular activities.

I have dinner to prepare, laundry, and the usual nightly rituals that seem to make the night a blur.  8:30 is the bedtime, of which I use the time after to write, read, paint or watch an adult show. 

Brian needs help with everything but math and i usually have him sit at the dining room table while I work in the kitchen, close enough to stop and help him.  Tonights project was long and difficult.  I reflect on the fact that college was not this complicated.  What are we doing to our kids?

I try to contain my dislike of school, but I can see why boys are not entering college at the pace women are now.  If this is what we are doing to boys in the name of education, then no wonder they run from school as fast as they can as soon as they are out of high school.  I don't blame them.  College was much more rewarding to me than my son's grade schoolexperience.  How sad is that for him?

My own mother, a brilliant scholar, who often tutors Brian says, "I look at his homework and wonder what this is suppose to be teaching him."

It is attempting to teach Brian to sit in a cubicle without windows and stare at a desk all day long, make lots of money, never see his kids, then cheat on his wife while searching for his lost life's passion and die of a heart attack at age 50, wondering what his life was for.

But we all know me - it will be over my dead body.

Sigh...Brian and I need a vacation.

Until next time-

C

PS.  The government and media fear would have us believe that we are "falling behind" in the global economy with our education standards.  I heard the same rhetoric when the Japanese started making cars in the 70s and we were told how great the Japanese work ethic was and how lazy we were.  Everything was about Japanese schools and their educational system and how lacking we were in comparison.  Their children started school at 7 and ended at 5 - blah blah blah.  Now correct me if I am wrong, but is Japan not ending one of the worst recessions in history?  How is this possible since in the 70's we were told THEY would be the economic power??

The best part of America is something that it does to people that live here in that we create amazing feats from nothing - which the world copies.  There is something about us that we shake our fists at the sky and take on the impossible.  Everyone else rides our coat tails.  I don't think it will ever change.

VROOM VROOM

Mr. McYummy has a motorcycle.  OH OH.  My weakness.

SHOTS OF FUN

I was thinking about my mother tonight, while laying in bed, recounting this weekend's events in my mind like a short film.  She is the queen of subtle and I don't know what I'd do without her steady stream of unwavering support.

It's Brian's birthday party weekend and I was in full swing from Thursday on, making sure no detail was too small.  I love to throw a good party - even if it is a children's affair.  I like parties to be the type where the neighborhood feels welcome.  However, in my zeal to get my x husband's place ready for Brian's day I pulled a muscle in my lower back.  By late Friday evening aspirin was not taking the edge off the shooting pain in my right hip.

Looking through my medicine cupboard I came across some Vicodin I never used.  There were only four, given to me for when I broke that toe last year.  A sample from the doctore 'just in case'.  I never took them, because I don't like Vicodin, and as with aging, could not remember why.  Like some freak gift from the gods I took one in the hopes I could sleep well on a heating pad and wake up refreshed and ready for Brian's party.

Oh hell no sista.

You see, I did not realize Vicodin is synthetic codine and I am allergic to codine.  Give me tylenol with codine and I will puke up the skin off the bottom of my feet just as sure as the sun comes up.  An hour into sleeping on Friday night and I awoke to the most terrible stomach ache that I could remember.  There was no tums in the house, but I did find the pink bottle of chalk mixed with Beech nut gum, metal and elmers glue, more popularly known as Peptol Bismol.

Out comes a dusty old shot glass, which I proceed to clean and begin the ritual of Pepto-Bismol 'shots'.  Oh what a glamorous life I lead, there in the kitchen in my sweat jammies doing pink shots of chalk on a Friday night.  Unfortunately for me, unlike alcohol shots that work on getting one drunk, the pink shots from hell were not curing my belly ache to the same degree.  It was beginning to feel like the alien was about to pop out through my stomach wall.

I take the heating pad, move to my writing chair and begin drinking straight from the peptol bottle, using a seltzer water chaser,  Certainly this has to work.  I would doze off for a few minutes from exhaustion, to be jolted awake by a stomach spasm.  There was no way I was waking Brian and going to the hospital, so I paced the floor, sure I could walk it off.  I stayed up all night.

As I stand  drained, rubbing a sore belly, Brian awakes at 7am excited that I am already up and ready to go.  The pains have died down somewhat, but I am not about to risk coffee.  Coffee seemed like adding a fork stab to an open wound.  Into the shower I go.

Now my redheaded Irish luck doesn't stop here, as my phone begins ringing at 9:30.  It seems one boys game will end early, another changed his plans, Brian's grandma contacted an old friend and he is coming - oh my God - suddenly Brian is having a big birthday party.  Do we have enough food?

In my usual style I arrive at my x's and swing into action decorating and getting things ready.  One might wonder why we are having it at my x's and not at our place since I am doing all the work.  Brian's dad's place has a pool in the condo complex, his place is larger and Brian wanted a swim party.  Sorry men, but most of you are not great at doing the party thing.  You'd throw a bucket of Kentucky fried chicken on the table and call it a day. 

And of course when we arrived, nothing was in place as he had promised, so I began to do the last finishing touches on preparing for the party.  I worked my ass off to say the least.  With the exception of poor little Andrew and his 104 temperature, all the boys managed to come to the party after all, plus Sam from Brian's old school (who Brian hasn't seen in three years) plus some neighborhood kids Brian found to invite but forgot to tell me.

And my mom. 

My blessed mom arrived, chairs and food in hand, who was quick to tell me that Vicodin is synthetic codine and what the hell was I thinking??  Do I not remember that I am allergic to codine?  The nurse in her looks me over.  How I am managing is anyone's guess - pure love for Brian makes it's own energy for me.

The party was a complete success and in my usual grand style, the neighbors walk over and enjoy the barbecue and pieces of cake.  Boonie the dog maneuvers the party using her tongue as a magnet, secretly stealing bits of tasty treats from boys plates while they are distracted.  The fat kitty follows Boonie around, but uses a more effective, sweet "Meow" and a leg rub to get someone to give her treats from their plate. 

My mother gives Brian several movies as a gift, but there's one in particular she wants Brian to watch "to see his mother" as she puts it.  The movie is: The Prize Winner of Defiance Ohio.  I thought she meant that I look like Julianne Moore, which people tell me from time to time depending on her latest movie role.  I decide to bring the movie home with me because I was curious what mom's reason was to give it to Brian.  As exhausted as I was, I put on PJ's and put the movie in the DVD at 9:30pm.  I was soon to find out the Julianne Moore resemblance was not what she was referring to at all.

Transfixed, I watched this movie tell the story of a woman, who's husband always spends all the money, and shows her way of coping and raising her children.  I then realize how much my mother sees in me, and how wonderfully kind she thinks my actions are.  You know, you  often wonder how your parents see you and how much of the "real you" they really see.  My mother sees more of the "true me" than I ever imagined.  Funny the things a girl can learn at 45...  It was a wonderful compliment.  I relaxed in the thought of " if this is how my mother sees me, then I have done all right by her".  It was like getting an A+ in Motherhood from the top professor.

The movie was hard to watch at times, although my x husband is not a drinker, the similarities in the dynamics of their relationship hit a little too close to home.  Somehow I always manage to 'fix it' in Brian's world.  I paused after the movie ended and thought of my day ...

Hell, there I was in front of my mom running around managing my x at the barbecue, chasing kids, fixing corn, salad, rolls and traditional outdoor fair, while negotiating swim sessions with the boys.  I made sure everyone had a great time.  Brian was in heaven, and as with each year, hugged me as I left him for his sleep-over, "Mom, this was the best birthday party ever!" 

Well my dear Brian, you are simply the best boy ever.

And I woke up at noon on Sunday...

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

http://www2.oprah.com/index.jhtml

BIRTHDAY TOKENS

As you can see I am messing around with the look of my blog.  I really need to paint the bathroom ... well ... and the walls of my living room ... and....then the ceiling ...

 

Coloring the blog seems less of a project.

 

I was trying to think of a humorous quote about birthdays, since Brian's birthday party is this Saturday.  The only quote I can think of is by Phyllis Diller, "I'm at an age when my back goes out more than I do."  Somehow I don't think it quite applies to Brian.... maybe to me...

 

We had to postpone Brian's party from the Saturday of his birthday to this weekend, of which he was not real happy.  Like the boat that sails as you arrive at the dock, it seems most of Brian's friends have sailed out to sea this week.  With each developing day we loose one more boy to something planned or a 104 fever.

 

I am feeling like the parent from hell.

 

Usually we plan a pretty neat party for Brian, but this year it caught both me and my x husband off guard.  I am watching Brian grow more disappointed as the party grows near.  I feel like calling all my friends and say that I am having a birthday disaster.  They'll come, bring wine and great gifts.  But I am afraid Brian was looking for a bunch of boys, up-all-night-playing-games kind of a party.

 

This brings up the same conflicted feelings I have about what I want to next with my career.  As is stands now, on most sunny days, I put on walking shoes, walk down to Brian's dad's house and grab Boonie the dog.  I then walk to Brian's school and walk back to work with Brian and Boonie.  We always stop at the little creek by the school.  Brian and Boonie play in the water as Brian shouts out his day to me. 

 

I know this is becoming the last years I will be able to do these kinds of things.  It is my favorite part of my day.  Like on Tuesday when Brian stopped throwing rocks in the creek, looks up at me and says, "I don't like the way some boys treated this girl today when we were playing dodge ball."  "Oh?" I look down at him as water begins to move around his shoes.  "Yeh, they all said she was out, but she wasn't.  I saw where her foot was - so did they - she wasn't out.  I don't think they wanted her to play."  he says as he throws a rock. "What did you do?" I ask.  "Well she is a good player, and she argued that she was in.  I agreed, but everyone kept shouting that she was out.  I felt bad for her." he continues.  "So as she was walking away I called to her and I gave her my token."  "Your token?"  "Yeh, it alowed her to come back in the game and I went out."  he said pushing the water with his shoes.  "Did she thank you?  I ask.  "I don't know", Brian replies, "I just left because I was mad at them for cheating."  "Brian I  think you are amazing." I say, fighting back tears of pride.  "I love you son" "I love you too mom."  he smiles.  Now I could have been working in a cubicle for some corporate company who is going to eliminate everyone's jobs in two years and missed this Brian moment.

 

A moment when I see how rough it is being a man with a heart of a lion.

 

Each day this week, I have to tell Brian the lion hearted that one more boy can't come ... this one is going fishing with his dad ... that one is on restriction... another one has a baseball tournament ...

 

I am in parent hell.  Now what  do I do?  I don't have any magic tokens to make this right.  I can't post a sign and buy boys.  I could go to jail for that.  All I can do is help him process this part of growing up and it just sucks all to hell.  It is a powerless feeling when you can't magically make something right for your kids. 

 

This year I wanted to give him the plans and booking for Ireland next year and that hasn't worked as I had hoped either. 

 

And this damn loan I am working on - will it EVER close????

 

Another birthday quote: "We are all born naked and screaming and if you're lucky that sort of thing won't stop there ".  Hmmmmm this one won't work for Brian's birthday week either.

 

OIY.

 

A fat kity resembling Annabelle has wandered into Brian's dad's house this week and has decided she likes it.  Boonie likes her too.  I think she is pregnant looking for a place to have her kittens.  Brian is transfixed, like itis some sign from God (he gets this from me).  I think he is hoping either the cat will stay or the cat and kittens will stay - but some sort of major kitty deal in his favor.  His dad shakes his head no.  Yeah his dad is sure a toughy - he is the reason we have Boonie the terrier dog.  I am staying as far away from this one as I can.  But I know his dad and if Brian's birthday is a big disappointment I am seeing kitties in his future and NO!! I AM NOT HAULING KITTIES BACK AND FORTH TOO!!!

 

Please tell me a new kitten is not a token...

 

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

You know, Miss June Spoon you and I should just post our conversations to each other back and forth.  We could call it "The June and Cat chitchat" or "Gabfest 2006", "The Spoon and Red palaver", or "Junespoon and Cathicutie rap trap", or "Two for too much small talk", or "Two babe's tête-à-tête"...

HOT FUN IN THE SUMMERTIME

It was a beautiful sunny California day today.  Many little fun things happened along with the great weather.  I can feel the itch of summer growing near.

I am just as excited as Brian to no longer have to think about homework and rigid evening schedules.  True freedom is long lost summer days.  How I love them deeply.

McYummy is back from his vacation and called me today about the trainer job that I got mad about. (laugh) How our lives seem to cross in this intricate, delicate pattern that springs up randomly when I least expect.  He is a fine man and a delightful person.

God smiled at me the day he decided to keep putting us in each other's lives.  My soul soars when we talk, as I never feel scared, foolish, anxious or hidden.  I am relaxed, completely myself, without my usual wall of defenses.  There is a peacefulness about him ... it was a nice chat.  Musical.

Another venture capital opportunity fell into my lap today, depending on it's timing, maybe this will be the answer to my prayers.  I am finally getting to docs on this loan from hell I have been working on.  Borrowers often have no clue how hard their loans can be and how much time they take.

Summer is coming ... summer is coming...

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

MAY DAY

It was illegal immigrant's day.  We didn't see much of anything in Northern California (North of SF). A march down a street in part of town everyone tries to avoid for fear of gangs so no one really watched.  I disagree with pulling children out of school.  It angers me to use children to financially punish the school system that is drained from the illegal immigrant children who need assistance.  I think it is the ultimate FU to a system that allows their children to grow up and have a better life. 

Before I see illegal immigrants get amnesty, I think those that have been doing it legally, waiting and waiting (did I say waiting?) should be first.  When I worked at Continental Savings I saw first hand the heart break of mothers separated for years from their children while they come here legally, wait and follow the rules of the "system".

One woman who worked next to me did not see her children for more than five years.  She was saving every penny, working to become a citizen and bring her family in from the Philippines.  I wished every day I could help her.  So many of us shared our lunches, gave her money on the holidays - anything we could think of to help her speed up the process.  She was a wonderful person.  I understand the "system" still works very slow.  I would like to help people like her FIRST.

She was a hero to me and made me feel lucky to have been born here.  I think we should help the LEGAL immigrant who is waiting and waiting.

I couldn't get Brian the special services for which he qualifies (at his old school) because the district was over-strapped with English-as-a-second-language issues.  Brian loved the kids there, but I transferred him to the school district (where I live) to get the help he needs.  I have an issue with the fact I was forced to pull him from a school in the neighborhood where his Grandma watched him, where he was with a group of wonderful kids, and loved by all.  Only to transfer him into this 'yuppified" school on this side of town, where kids are spoiled and detached.  I was forced to do this so I could get him the services he needs to make him a success in school.  I should have been able to do this at the other school.  English as a second language is a problem, and unfair to other immigrants who come here from Asia, India and the Pacific Islands. 

Ialso don't agree that illegals do jobs that "others" won't do ... "others" tend to hold employers accountable for paying a living wage and do not allow abuse because of fear.  Employers exploit the illegal immigrants.  We see it here in Northern California where the grape pickers are barely paid a living wage, but the winery owner lives beyond opulent.  What...?... if they pay workers a living wage they can't buy another 20 thoroughbreds and that 894th pair of shoes...?...

And if we allow illegal behavior of one kind, is it not then fair to excuse the marijuana grower who supplies the medical pot...?... the kid who is caught speeding for the first time...?...DUI's that hit just the .08 mark...?... someone who shop lifts groceries to feed their family...?...the single mother who leaves her children home alone at night to go work a second job to support them...?...the worker who takes postits, staples and supplies home from the office...?... the grocery shopper who samples fruit without paying for it...?...the mother who carries her crying infant on her lap in the passenger seat, instead of putting the baby in the car seat (but she is only going three blocks...)...?  the college kids who create fake ids to go dancing in the clubs...?...the under sixteen who buy cigarettes...?...the parents who allow children wine with dinner...?...the couple that writes 'hot checks' just before payday to survive...?...

Hmmmmmm

If you have a DUI in the US and try to enter Canada, according to Canada’s Criminal Code, the offender is deemed an “inadmissible” person, in violation of Section 19 (2) (a.1) of the Immigration Act of Canada.  In other words, the DUI offender has committed a crime considered an indictable offense in Canada, and, because of that, banned.  I don't seem to notice a lot of people marching on Canada, waving wine glasses.  Come to think of it, Canadians don't seem to have a large desire to come live in the US.  Why is that?  Is it because the Canadian government works in such a way that people love living and working in Canada..?...  and if this is part of the key with our closest neighbors then why aren't we putting more pressure on the Mexican government with regard to this issue?

Everyone seems to have a strong opinion on this subject.

Funny how we aren't boycotting Cinco De Mayo...

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/