Just When I'm Berating Myself For Wasting Time...

... I read a post somewhere that kick starts my memory, creativity
or touches me in a way that reminds me why we're all out here.

One of the recent "Oh, I'm so glad I read this!" posts was over at (surprise) (again) Woman in a Window' s place, with Reverential Dwarf.

It gave me reason to reflect on the people who have passed through my life, maybe just briefly, but who really need to be credited with a little of what makes me, me.

The most predominate memory for me today is of the woman who would let me sit at the bar in that small desert town that was baking in the sun (before laws said 6 year-old children couldn't sit at the bar) eating her maraschino cherries (regardless of the formaldehyde stories attached to their sticky wonderfulness) while my dad drank icy cold Budweiser from a can.

The inside of her home was orange. The brightest orange walls you ever saw and I was enraptured by the boldness. I had never seen such a color anywhere other than in an LA diner where we quickly inhaled our greasy eggs and bacon before retrieving my runaway sister from the juvey detention center. I use bold colors on my walls now.

My first spanish words were spoken in her home. "Uno Blanco Lobo" was her dog's name (and I'm pretty sure the adjective was in the wrong place, but who am I to say what someone names their dog?).
Her name was Neva and she made up one part of the timeline that was my childhood-- her children made up many more (it was her son, Larry who crushed the Christmas "Jolly Elf" myth and ruined the surprise of a bicycle waiting under the tree).

It's like that Orange commercial...

oh, go ahead, watch it and then tell me...



...who from your past or present popped into your mind?

Share,

you know you want to.

My Drug of Choice

I read on someone's blog how comments left on a post is her "crack". I wish I knew where I read it so I could give her credit for such an accurate comparison.
I can be having one of my moodiest mornings and with a quick check of the email -- VOILA! mood gone.
You know who you are... to see your name in my mailbox brightens my day. I love "getting to know" you through your stories of your children, the trials of a parent's illness, the sad passing of your beloved cat, your struggles and accomplishments.
Here's something silly about me you may (not) want to know:
I almost got to the point of hero worship of one blog. I lurked for weeks, eagerly clicking on the quick link I made in her honor, anticipating what was going to happen with the dawning of each brand new day. I was never disappointed... well maybe once when she made several jokes about Republicans (wait! Don't go away, I'm a good person, really!)(oh, and the jokes were hilarious). I loved her wit and admired her great writing style.
So imagine how silly I (should've) felt when I yelled from my cold, little computer room, "Hey! I have a comment from ____!"
I was beaming (She knows me! She knows who I am! She read my blog!).
My dear husband, who occasionally has that look on his face (the look of 'is-this-normal-or-is- she-about-to-fall-of-the-edge?) smiled... it didn't reach his eyes.
I just couldn't expect him to understand. He doesn't drink, smoke or do any kind of recreational drugs---come to think of it, with his job, he rarely does prescriptions--- so it would be hard for him to understand how the woman who just had a mouth-frothing tirade over a box of tea cakes being opened (meant for said woman's Mum in the States) could come out of the room with a silly little euphoric smile on her face--over a stranger's comment.

So comment away.
I do look you up and I usually discover that there's a reason we were drawn to one another's blog.
I should warn you though, that I am pretty hard to get rid of.

I once met a nice lady on Ebay whose daughter's love for Disney's The Little Mermaid almost matched mine (she was only 6, there was still time). She purchased a Tyco Ariel doll from me that I had 6 of (don't ask). We've been pen-pals for 7 1/2 years now. We send birthday cards, photos of the kids, Christmas letters and I can't even list all of the thoughtful things she has done for me. How great is the internet? And how great is blogging?!

And another thing... Happy Birthday Lori

I grew up in a small town (can you say "Horton Hears A Who" small?) and my closest friend for most of my growing up years was Lori. When I first met her she was wearing pigtails and horn-rimmed glasses and I can still see her that way 30-something years later.
We played "Ding Dong Ditch", held tennis matches in the street, played hooky from school (to paint ceramics-- how pathetic is that?) and sang along with Shaun Cassidy into a cassette recorder. She made Shrinky Dinks and had the Little People and Barbies I always wished I had. I cried with her when her dog Dinky died because she had been left unknowingly in the car. We went our separate ways about the time that she met the man she would eventually marry. Every once in a while, some news will trickle my way about her, but for the most part I have no idea what she's doing with her life or whether or not she's happy. However, not one December 11th has gone by in all of these years that I didn't think to myself "Happy Birthday Lori".