I Think My Closet Might Be a Stargate

At least that’s what I’m hoping!

We have a very large mirror in our bathroom. It spans the wall over the double vanity. Directly behind it and off at a slight angle is our closet.

The other morning as I was drying my hair I saw Husband (in the mirror) walk into the closet.

This is not unusual.

It’s a walk in closet and quite large so we use it for storage as well as clothing.

The strange part was he didn’t come out.

I didn’t think too much of it. I just thought he was taking slightly longer to fish something out of the depths.

I kept waiting for him to emerge.

And waiting

And waiting.

I finished drying my hair and went to look in the closet to see what he was up to. (You know, just in case of “Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”)

He wasn’t there.

There was no way he could have emerged without me seeing him.

I went out to the living room to find him watching TV.

“Were you just in our room?” I asked.

“No.” was his reply.

I KNOW I saw someone go into the closet!

I'd much rather entertain the idea that my closet is a Stargate than to consider the other possibilities...................lol

It Was Inevitable

We stopped for a late lunch the other day.

The teenage cashier took one look at us and didn’t even ask! 

Hahahahahaha!

Husband Stories

Husband doesn’t recall very many childhood memories.

I think it’s a guy thing.

But the few he does remember are winners!

When he was a teen he was in the habit of eating a bowl of cereal as a snack.

He would bring it to his room and when he was finished shove the dirty dishes under his bed.

After a while his parents found they had no more bowls or spoons!

His mother would find them piled under his bed growing a fine crop of fuzz.

He was ‘reminded’ over and over to return the dirty dishes to the kitchen, but being a teen, well, we all know how that goes.

One day his father, having had enough,  went to the garage, got the garbage can, brought it into Husband’s room and said, “You want to live in a dump, HERE, live in a real dump!” and emptied the garbage can all over Husband and the bed! (This was before we put garbage in neat little plastic bags!)

The lesson must have stuck, he is downright fastidious now!

Stuck in the Middle with You

This is what happens when the muse takes a holiday in the middle of a project! LOL

Waiting for the Muse

So here I sit, drumming my fingers on the table, waiting patiently (ha!) for the return of my muse.

I’m tired, impatient, depressed, disgusted, discouraged………..think of a negative adjective, I’m feeling it.

I know she’ll return when she’s ready. 

I’m just not a patient person.

And while she’s away I feel alone, inadequate, small, undeserving.

And fat, did I mention fat?

When I get discouraged it’s in all aspects of my life! LOL

This too shall pass……eventually.

In the meantime, I’m going to go play some Bubble Buster!

Bro’s Before Ho’s

I might be prejudiced but I think they were (are still) two of the cutest kids I’ve ever seen! LOL

Then, as now, they ‘got each other’s backs!’

The Magic of Grandpa

Son1 was a colicky baby. 

As in he cried/screamed for hours on end at precisely six PM every evening. 

Of course it was when I was alone with him. Husband was at work and my backup (aka my mother) had gone home.

One evening as I was pacing the floor rocking, cuddling, burping, cradling Son1 ……. my father-in-law walked in.

He took the baby from my arms, handed me my car keys and told me to go to a movie and not come back for at least two hours.

The minute, no the SECOND Son1 was in his arms he stopped crying!

I have no idea what Grandpa’s magical powers were, but whenever he held any of his grandchildren in his arms they always stopped fussing.

I will be forever grateful for Grandpa!

The Vomit Queen

We dubbed my mother ‘The Vomit Queen’.

I never knew anyone so eager to throw up in all my life.

One of her favorite sayings was, ‘Better an empty house than a bad tenant!”

(I, on the other hand, sold my soul to the devil to never throw up again. I have what is commonly known as “if I hear it or anyone even talks about it I start to feel queasy myself’ syndrome.)

Which is why she would gleefully retell the stories of her pregnancy with BigBrother.

Over and over.

She would tell of standing on the subway platform puking up that morning’s bran muffin.

And how, when she went into labor, she had a craving for a black and white soda so she stopped off at Schrafft’s on the way to the hospital.

She said it was good going down, not so much coming back up!

“Aw, geez, Mom!” I would say.

 And she would giggle at my green complexion.

When she was recovering from open heart surgery and living with us, the boys would run screaming out of the room when she even LOOKED like she was going to hurl.

Which she did on a regular basis. With great flourish and boisterous retching.

There were times when she exhibited an exceedingly twisted sense of humor. :->

Recurring Nightmare

Since the day I graduated high school I’ve had a recurring nightmare.

It’s always the same.

I dream I haven’t really graduated and I have to go back.

I hate the dream.

As I grew older I was also older in my dream and it was harder and harder to fit in.

I would get lost in the hallways, not be able to find the right classroom, come into class late so everyone would stare at me.

Classic anxiety dream.

Over the years I had it less and less and it finally stopped.

Until last night.

Only this time it was different.

When ‘they’ told me I hadn’t actually earned my diploma and I would have to go back, I replied, “I’m ‘effing sixty years old! I don’t care if you think I need a high school diploma or not!”

I’m hoping ‘they’ will leave me alone now!

Right Here, Right Now

Right here, right now is just right.

I’m writing, people are reading.

I’m not rich or famous (or infamous.)

I get to bask in obscurity and still express myself artistically.

It’s a win win situation!