Stealing From Oprah

If I kept one of those gratitude journals that Oprah used to talk about, this is what I would have entered in for today:

Don’t Tell The Bishop! (Ten On Tuesday)

You will never guess the conversations we had at Ladies Night Out last Saturday!  And I’m not going to tell you, either, because then you’ll tell the Bishop and he’ll never let us have Ladies Night Out again.

Here are 10 things we may or may not have talked about during our evening together:

1. Flatulence, a.k.a “Barking Spiders”
2. “Nickles” (a.k.a. n*pples) - There’s a funny story in there, don’t worry.  My youngest pointed at my chest one morning and said, “Mom, what are those red things?” to which I nonchalantly replied, “Oh, those are my n*pples.”  “Oh, ok, your nickles!  Look, I have some too!”
3. People from our past who used the word “chicken” whenever the word “ass” was in a reading they were doing from the bible in Sunday School.
4. Sex cures migraines (or causes them, depending on whose doctor you ask).
5. Daddies who say “dammit” in front of the two year-old while playing video games and what could we teach the kid to say instead of that?

Ok, I guess it was more like five instead of ten, but I was laughing so hard all night that some of my memories must’ve fallen out!

Additional Revelation

Although most of you know this story, I’m going to tell it anyway.  When I first moved here, I cried every day for two weeks.  And not just a little bit.  All day, every day.  It was terrible.  I knew we were supposed to be here, but I could not figure out why God would take me away from somewhere I loved and put me here in this forsaken town.

As I’ve journeyed through my life here these past few years, I’ve come across definite reasons why we are supposed to be here.  I had to meet one of my closest and dearest friends, Rosana.  Even though she ditched me a year later and moved to Idaho of all places!  But she’s very happy there so I’ll move on.  I needed to be saved from myself by joining the MOMS Club and meeting some of the greatest, most hilarious women I know.  If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be the 1,600 lb. woman who can’t get out of bed because she never did.  Because of them, I had somewhere to go nearly every day for two years and could survive on the occasional day when there wasn’t an activity.  I also had to be here when Bananarama moved to Merced with her family.  As I compare our lives, they are very different.  And if I concentrate hard enough, which most assuredly I never do because it requires too much brain activity, we are less alike than I think we are.  She is way smarter than me, more professional than me, has a stronger work ethic than I could ever have, a full-on feminist (in a good way, not in a femi-nazi way), and she’s much better at making people feel good about themselves than I am!  But she was there for me when B was born, and she has been there for me countless times as I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression these past few years, and really - the best thing about her is when she looses her cool with her kids.  I’ve always felt like such a crappy mom until the day I heard her yelling at them.  I cannot tell you how fabulous it made me feel about myself to see someone so ”with it” just lose “it” for 30 seconds!  She is also always so positive and funny and loves food and the beach as much as me, so how could we not be friends? 

Well, today I got to see another reason we are here.  There’s a family in our complex that’s been here longer than we have (if that’s possible!).  We’ve always been friendly, but especially in the past year we’ve become more neighborly with them.  Honey tutors their son twice a week in math, we hang out at the park when the weather’s nice, and we’ve helped them out with some other stuff.  Today, Neighbor B (that’s the Mom) called to see if she could borrow a couple of bucks.  I wasn’t home, but I told her to feel free to break in and grab some of our laundry quarters.  I called her when I got back to see if she’d been by yet, and she sounded terrible.  Her cat has attacked her a few times recently, so I offered her some Benadryl to get the swelling down.  This family has just had the rottenest string of luck, ever.  They are (or were) hardworking people, good neighbors, just wanting to get through life but B has fibromyalgia (sp?) and can’t work.  She’s in such incredible pain all the time, plus she has depression (who wouldn’t with all that pain?) and some other health problems.  She’s almost died twice.  Neighbor T (that’s the Dad) had some accidents at work and is pretty much permanently disabled.  And not the fake kind where you’ll find him out washing his boat or dancing at the clubs, but the kind where he’s had 4 surgeries on his neck & spine and probably has to have more.  They have no health insurance and keep getting denied disability every time they turn around.  So I really feel like they’ve been put in our path so that we can show them that life doesn’t entirely suck, and that someone is out there rooting for them.

Well, it’s getting late-ish and thanks to the much-needed rain I’ve got to go pick up the boys from school.  I hope everyone had a fabulous Easter or Passover, and that you all had a chance to revisit the reason we celebrate it.

Where’d It Go?

A good friend of mine who doesn’t know me as well as some of you wasn’t happy with my little episode yesterday.  I used the Lord’s name in a way that I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry if I offended any of you.

I told her that this is a place for me that I feel safe to be who I am, no matter how I feel.  I don’t apologize for who I am or what I feel.  I try not to hide anything here, regardless of who I know (or don’t know) is reading.  I actually hesitated before putting that post up because I didn’t want to alarm anybody, but I was feeling more hurt than I could handle and I knew you would all be there for me and help me out of it.

I suppose that’s something I should rely on the Lord for.  I suppose that by coming here; in a way, I am.  He gave me this gift of writing, and he has given me my friends who bring me through the darkness.

Thanks everyone.

Lucky!

“Mmmy…. what a happy day!”  Remember that song at the beginning of “Mickey and the Beanstalk”?  It’s buzzing around my head this morning. 

That’s what I got from Honey for my prezzy.  It’s a keychain, with my initials engraved on it.  Isn’t it lovely??

Today looks to be more of yesterday.  Blissfully sunny, a balmy 62′, marshmallow clouds in the sky.  The buds are starting to open on the almond trees.  I’ll post some photos soon.  I need to do that more, post photos.  I mean, take the photos in the first place.

D and I went to a valentine’s party at our friends yesterday afternoon.  It was so nice of her to invite us!  It was a potluck that her other mommies group was having.  Everyone was really kind, and they even gave D valentines, even though they didn’t know us!  It was wonderful.

Also wonderful, was that I saw that the house next door to my friend is for rent.  I know the person that’s in the house now, what I didn’t know is that they had also been renting.  BUT… the owner of the house?  Is my friend’s dad’s mailman.  So they know each other.  And my friend had recommended the gal that’s living in the house now.  So she’s going to put in a call for us.  He’s asking $1300 (which is a freaking steal because it’s 2200 sq. ft. and fairly new, with a GINORMOUS back yard) but there’s no way we can do that.  Well, we could but then we couldn’t eat.  Or we could eat, but then we couldn’t put gas in the cars.  So really, we can’t.  But if the guy will go down to $1000/mo….. WE’RE TAKING IT!!!

I know, I know.  The chances are slim to none.  But a girl can hope, can’t she?  And after all, I did get a four-leaf clover for Valentine’s Day.

Ketchup

We were having brats for dinner a couple of weeks ago and to my horror, there was no ketchup!  Which I personally would be ok with, but the kids… they would’ve gone to bed hungry.  So we borrowed the neighbors.

It was DEL MONTE.  Not Heinz 57, but DEL MONTE.  Banana will testify to my food snobbery, but it is particularly severe when it comes to my condiments. 

Being the great neighbors that we are, we didn’t return the ketchup but kept right on using it until it was half-empty from the level we had recieved it.  I figured we definitely needed to replace it.  Against my better judgement, I spent the 88 cents on the blasphemous ketchup.  It burned my skin to hold the bottle so I had to bag it right away.  I wanted to save my neighbor from ruining her palet with this… stuff, but we’re not that close.  She’s unaware of all my special little quirks.

Maybe next Christmas I’ll leave a bottle of the good stuff on her doorstep from Secret Santa.