These are my old posts from my AOL Diary.
My new blog is still in production, but I started http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com so come check out the new site and let me know your thoughts.
Catherine
I also Tweet at: http://twitter.com/Rapieress
I also have another blog: 8 Women Dream about making dreams come true.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
Double The Blogs, Double The Redhead
I am posting at the new site, still dealing with construction issues, but come visit it and leave comments:
http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com/
I also Twitter at http://twitter.com/Rapieress
Catherine
I also started a dream project at 8 Women Dream
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Who Else Wants Synchronicity
Merriam Webster describes synchronicity as the coincidental occurrence of events -especially psychic events (as similar thoughts in widely separated persons or a mental image of an unexpected event before it happens) that seem related but are not explained by conventional mechanisms of causality.
I describe synchronicity as the coincidental occurrence of strange events which typically happen to redheads only.
Yesterday, I enjoyed a redheaded synchronous event, one right out of Carl Jung's a causal connecting principle. It reminds of the time my "First Kiss" short story was read on radio Alice in San Francisco. There I was, driving down the street, (following KB to a coffee shop) when I felt this overwhelming urge to tune my radio to 97.3. I was just in time to hear the producer say she has this great short story she wants to read over the air. Something in my gut said it was going to be my story. All the breathable air seemed to leave the car, as all I could do was wave and honk at KB, who pulled over, sure I was having a heart attack.
There, over my car speakers, like a whisper from the Gods, was my short story being read to thousands of bay area commuters, while I jump up and down in the middle of the street yelling, "KB they are reading my story! I wrote that!" She stands grinning outside her car, as if to say "I am not surprised" with the twinkle in her eyes that knows we are in the middle of a Catherine adventure.
So there I was yesterday driving to Rite Aid to buy Brian allergy medicine, because I swear this boy of mine is allergic to air at this time of year. His eyes look like something from a Hannibal rising horror film, all puffed and red, and little wads of Kleenex are found in small piles throughout the house. Fed up, I decide to go buy him some Claritin.
On my way to Rite Aid I begin day dreaming about my next vehicle, imagining myself driving a 2007 Mercedes-Benz GL 450:
And I think, "Hmmm I really should go test drive one, or find one to take a photo of..." Just then in the distance, parking in front of Rite Aid is my dream car. A tall, good looking businessman gets out and walks into Rite Aid. Bless my over-boiled potatoes, here is my chance.
I park and walk over to his car and for a time am lost in the thoughts of driving it, when I decide I should get Brian his allergy medication. I stand in line at the pharmacy to buy medicine that I used to be able to pick up in the isles, but I guess we are all future crack whores to the government. After allowing my drivers license to be swiped for a whoppin' 10 pills, I exit towards the electronic doors, where the Mercedes man is standing at the edge of a counter.
"Is that your beautiful Mercedes?" I ask, pointing outside.
"Why yes," he grins.
"It's my dream car. I have a photo of it above my desk. Do you love it?" I inquire.
"Here then", he continues, "Take my keys and go sit in it and check it out for yourself."
I am stunned as he hands me his car keys and directs me out the door. He does not follow, and leaves me to go check out his car on my own - ME the perfect stranger. He stays inside Rite Aid, as I press the buttons that open the driver's door. I am experiencing that elated, excited feeling as I slide across the seat, placing my hands around the leather steering wheel. It feels surreal.
I imagine myself driving the freeway to my other dream home in Los Gatos:
I thoroughly enjoy the moment, taking it all in, then slowly I exit the drivers seat, gently shut the door and walk back into Rite Aid.
I am sure my grin was as wide as my ass. I pass him back his keys and say, "WOW. How kind of you. Thank you so much!"
"Did you like it?" he grins.
"I loved it" I laugh.
He takes a package from the Rite Aid employee at the counter, turns to me and smiles, "If I was not on my way to an appointment I'd let you take it for a test drive." With that he shakes my hand, winks and exits to the parking lot. I'd move my feet to follow - if they'd only move.
God I love redheaded synchronicity.
Now if someone invites me to that house, I'll pee my pants.
Until next time-
C
This post was migrated from:http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife
I now write at: A Week In The Life of A Redhead
Tags: Redheads, Los Gatos, Mercedes, synchronicity
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
TWO PLACES AT ONCE
Can I say creating one's own blog and webpage takes the patience of... of ...
well … not me.
I am slowly figuring it out. One problem is trying to be a creative writer while trying to be a creative blog developer. Jaysus, if you’ve been watching (http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com )I think I uploaded 46 friggin’ banners before I decided on one. I swear, the experience reminds me of getting dressed for a date. You start with the outfit you think you are going to wear, change another 40 times and then end up back in the first outfit.
I think I am done with the banner for now. THANK THE GODS.
Now, the bigger problem … what to write.
I built it … will they come?
I guess I have to get back out there and take more photos.
Until next time-
C
http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com
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Saturday, March 17, 2007
HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY
And, Happy 50th birthday to my older, wonderful brother Michael. Pictures from the party will be posted later. Names will be changed to protect the innocent.
(Hit your reload button every time you land on this page, as AOL still has not figured out it's photo problem...)
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Friday, March 16, 2007
SWEET SWEATIN MAMAS
So ... naturally the very minute I decide to begin the migration of this blog over to the web site www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com I become abnormally busy.
It starts with some loans - a good thing. Then, I begin attending this woman's dance class on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays. I guess I can call it a dance class, but it is some sort of odd combination of belly dancing, jazz, aerobics, kick-boxing and stand- up comedy. Lori A., the ex-president of Club Bitch (yes that is what we were called) decided to start this hilarious work-out class for women "our age". If I were to look up the word 'Bliss' in the dictionary, Lori's photo would be there. I don't know what it is this woman has had all these years, but she is consistently more fun than driving a Maserati, with a leggy Italian man, on the Autobahn 125mpr. Yes, THAT much fun.
And I am VERY sore.
Of course, Brian's baseball coach decides to up the practice schedule, so we live part-time at the baseball field. Don't you just love dropping your pants over a port-a-potty? ... Especially one used by little boys, or as my son will tell you, "young men". It's enough to make you hold it until you are 80. Is this what parental love looks like?
Add in a night spent with fellow writers at the wonderfully talented Writers Forum in Petaluma, plus an evening spent hearing a great lecture and somehow I have managed to get a life.
What the f***over?
So, this afternoon I am wondering around the garden section of Home Depot, thinking of how sore my calves are, and if I have to take just one more step I am sure I will scream out loud for an aspirin - wait no - vicodin, and my thoughts turn to a "war" class I once attended for three years after my divorce. It was this everyday boot- camp work-out class where I religiously showed up for torture, and, as I was remembering THAT pain, I am mauled by two women.
It's the ex-drill sergeant (she calls herself the "teacher" (HA)) of that damn war class, and a fellow participant, who I was once very close with, and have lost touch over the years.
Jen is on the left, and the ever so lovely Susan-the-drill-sergeant is on the right.
I was rather blown away, since I was remembering the pain of that class, and having no idea they worked at the Home Depot. Life always seems to provide just what we are looking for - don't you just love it?
God's gotta' do something about that port-a-potty problem though. Could He\She\It show up there in the form of a nicely tiled bathroom with a sink?
Needless to say I am behind on my blog development at www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com and hope to have it fully functional by the end of next week.
Unless, of course, we start sleeping at the ball-park.
Until next time-
C
http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/
Monday, March 12, 2007
PRAY FOR US
Only five more days until St. Patrick's day...
Hide yer valuables ... the Irish are comin'.
C
THIS SITE IS A MEMBER OF JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING
Thanks for supporting Brian!
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Friday, March 9, 2007
DEAR MS/MR/MRS/GUY AUTOMAKER
Can you please make the parts of a car a child comes in contact with removable and dishwasher safe?
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Catherine, the redhead mom
Thursday, March 8, 2007
PERSONAL TRANSFORMATIONS
Since I own www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com I have decided it is time to move this blog off AOL to it's own web site. Next week I will begin the migration process. While working on the new site I will try to still write here to keep things fresh.
You will notice AOL seems to be having trouble with their picture section of blogging this week. On any given day I have no control over whether or not my photos show up or show up correctly. This frustrating problem will go away on the new site along with other issues too many to list here.
I cannot completely be negative about AOL, as it was easy and available when I first started down the road of writing my life and thoughts online, but like many things, I have outgrown it's limitations and find that I am increasingly frustrated more and more each day.
I also have advertisers who's HTML code I cannot make work within AOL. I have some very big plans for all of this, so I need a site that can keep up. I thank all of you for your emails, comments, and for just showing up to read my words. Some truly beautiful things are happening in my life and I hope to share much of it with you at the new site. I wish all of you much love and happiness... and
I hope you will follow me.
Until next time-
C
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
TRANSFORMATIONS
Be quiet; be motionless
For it is approaching
I wish to suppress
These feelings bubbling of
self-contained protests.
He’s mine
From me conceived
I wish to whine
This fare-haired child
but I resign.
Can it be true?
This unstoppable fate
I wish to cling to
My little one
bidding childhood adieu.
Bring back age four
His trucks and tears
I wish for more
Time spent rocking on my hip
pointing at the door.
Be quiet; be motionless
Teenage years approaching
I wish to express
These feelings bubbling of
future teenage parent stress.
(I thought up this poem after noticing the shift in Brian's room at his dad's house. Slowly the dragon pictures are giving way to baseball posters. Toys are being replaced by video games and sports equipment. The teenage years are coming...
SIGH.
How I love this little boy who is not so little anymore.)
Until next time-
C
Monday, March 5, 2007
WELL LOVED
If you ever have any doubts about love, go look at a child's favorite stuffed animal.
This is Brian's bear, who received plenty of love in his day (gave it too). Brian keeps him on a shelf in his bedroom. It is the one toy he never wants me to get rid of-
This teddy is rather special though. It was given to Brian by my step-father when Brian was born. In all the young photos of Brian he is dragging around this bear. God forbid we'd try to go anywhere without his "Teddy". I'd drive 30 miles out of my way to make sure Teddy was in the car! Nothing like a little hyperventilating with tears the size of marbles to send a parent madly looking for the magical "binky"...
His Grandfather, our "Papa Dick" died of heart disease when Brian was almost 4. He adored Brian and the feeling was mutual. So, Teddy is rather special.
He screams L O V E.
Thanks for the reminder Teddy.
Until next time-
C
http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/
http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com
Tags: Redheads, writers, teddy bears, love
Friday, March 2, 2007
How I Made A 12 Old Boy Complete A Scrapbook WIthout Killing Myself
Whenever I pick Brian up from school and the first thing out of his mouth is, "I have A LOT of homework!" which means, 'there is a problem and I am about to get blind-sided'. “What kind of homework?” I ask. “The A LOT of kind Mom!” he retorts. Yeah ... I am sure I studied that in school too. In plain English, there is a project he has been putting off for some reason and now it is due. I can feel it in my bones.
We go back to the office and Brian begins to pull what looks like the entire Dead Sea Scrolls out of his backpack. There are papers, packets, photographs, construction paper, books on Egypt and his colored pencil case. He heaves a big sigh followed by a, “I HAVE TO DO A SCRAPBOOK!” shout as he stares at me with the ‘this is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of in my life’ look.
Before I can ask anything further, my ex-husband looks at us like we have just exposed him to poison ivy and makes a quick exit to his office. (Coward) “What is this scrapbook suppose to be about?” I inquire. “Egyptian grave sites and what is a scrapbook anyways? It sounds pretty girlie", he moans. Hey I resent that – I don’t like scrap-booking either and last time I looked in the mirror I was still a girl. I equate scrap booking to quilting bees and My Little Pony unicorn figurine collections.
He sits down at the desk and lays the items out in front of him like they are laced with some sort of virus he might catch. Then, I ask the million dollar question, “When is this due?” “Tomorrow,” he grumbles. Nothing like putting off something until the last minute hoping it will magically disappear.
Now it is my turn to sigh. “Let me see the assignment sheet.” I ask. Brian picks up this packet that looks like a small book and I think “Holy shi*, I don’t blame him for postponing this pain.” I could get mad, except I am confused as to why in the hell a teacher would assign boys a project which involves scrap-booking. Give me a friggin' break here. Only certain female teachers would think of this for an entire classroom project and include the boys.
I am thinking there is the story of the Battle of Kadesh, which begins with the army of Ramesses II advancing upon the city of Kadesh in four corps. Ramesses II himself was with the lead element of the corps, known as Amun. The teacher could have given the class a choice ... scrapbook the grave sites of the Pharaohs or map this battle. Brian would have mapped the battle in a heartbeat with plenty of red penciled blood. And for those girls, like me – they could have mapped the hell out of the battle too.
But no.
It’s a scrapbook.
It takes a painful two hours for Brian to complete his scrapbook with a great deal of complaining and misery. I help him organize the pages as my ex-husband makes comments about how he would have blown-off such an assignment in school. (HEY! You are no help there, sparky). I am beginning to believe the only reason my ex married me is because I don't scrapbook. I doubt Brian will ever date a girl who scrapbooks either. I can see it now ... he’s dating a girl, who he thinks he likes a lot. She invites him over, he hopes he’ll get a kiss and BAAM she whips out a scrapbook. Brian is never seen or heard from again.
I have to show the finished pain:
You will note the mistake he REFUSED to correct, as he proclaimed, "I don't care. I'm done with it!" Where he gets his stubborn streak from I have no idea...
My ex-husband is no help as all he can do is proclaim what a stupid project it is and how no son of his will ever be into scrap-booking. BLAH BLAH BLAH. But it did make me laugh as I thought what a scrapbook might look like if men like my ex husband actually had one:
Note the mistakes, which he would refuse to correct (Brian has to get that from someone other than me).
It is said, "That which does not kill us makes us stronger"
Although to hear Brian tell it, you would be convinced he died a slow torturous death last night doing a "girlie" thing. And he isn't quite 12 yet ... OIY.
Until next time-
C
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