On Tuesday Hubs turned 48.

We searched for a gift that he’d think was great.

We searched all over, both high and low

But the perfect gift? It didn’t show.

Son1 said, “Let’s take Dad on a trip”

But where to go? A coin we’ll flip!

If I tell you where, can you keep it hush?

Well, we’ll see a Garden that’s named Busch.

We’ll ride some rides and we’ll have fun

On our weekend trip out in the sun.

So now I’m off–we’ll be seein’ ya!

We’re taking Hubs down to Virginia!

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I’m packing today. We leave tomorrow and return Sunday. Have a great Labor day Weekend. Have fun and stay safe.  

On Monday, August 18, at 12:01 am, an event of epic proportions will commence.

No….not the Summer Olympics. That was last week.

No….not the X-Games.That was the beginning of the month.

Miss Britt and Karl will be quitting…..not blogging!! SMOKING!! Yep, you heard me! Some of you out there will be joining them in this endeavor. And y’know what I have to say about that?

 FUCK YEAH!!!  YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!!!  YOU CAN DO IT!!!!

I am a former smoker. And I know it takes a lot of hard work. My Hubs still smokes, that assho–well, this isn’t about him.

It’s about all those who will soon be turning into edgy, bitchy, nasty animals. Nicotine withdrawal is horrible. So bear with them when their posts get nasty. Stand by them when they twitter about how much they want a  smoke in their mouth. And don’t give up on them when their only response to your encouraging comments is “BITE ME!”.

** Seriously, can anyone imagine what it will be like to talk to

Britt and not hear the deep, lung-exploding

inhale???   Me neither! I can hardly wait!!

Really, everyone who is quitting is deserving of my respect. I hope it isn’t too stressful for you. I wish all of you success.

Oh, and if you do succeed?…….I will stick my tongue down your throat, allow you to video it and put it on your blog.  Now go forth and smoke no more!

It was a hot day in August. Just like most of those days, it was sweltering and extremely humid. But oh, the sun was shining.

I woke up at 6am because it was something I had done for the preceding 4 years. Once I got into the habit, my internal clock didn’t want to be reset. I showered. I ate a bowl of cereal and threw a few things into a bag. I’d be needing them later, because I wasn’t coming back once I left. I putzed around some more, walked our Great Dane, and then got down to business.

After planning for little over a month, I was getting married at noon.

I did my own hair. I put on my own make-up. Mom knocked on my bedroom to ask if I needed any help getting ready. My answer was No. If I had been a more girly-girl, I might have known that it was something moms did with their daughters on the day of their wedding. If I could go back to that day, I’d have said Yes.

The photographer (the brother of my future BIL) showed up and began taking pictures of my family, including my Mom-Mom and Great Mom-Mom. I got annoyed as the humidity began to muss my hair. (What’s hairspray?) Finally we headed for the church.

The first thing I saw when I got out of Dad’s car was an ex-boyfriend. He wanted to see if I’d go through with it. “I can drive you away if you want…” , he said. I declined the offer. The next person I saw was a guy I had known since third grade. He was also a friend of Hubs. “Who’da thunk I’d be watching you marry one of my best friends?”, he said. Two years later, I’d be saying “Who’da thunk you would be my BIL?” He is still my BIL.

Finally the moment came. The organ started and I watched my sister, who was also my maid-of-honor, walk down the aisle. At that second, Dad whispered to me that the car was gassed and outside of the church doors. “You don’t have to do this.” I wasn’t great at taking advice and I didn’t do it then either.

Then the clock struck twelve. The bells of the church began to ring the familiar “Angelus” of prayer. It rang every day at noon and that Saturday was no different. I didn’t care. It was a sign. I felt that they were chiming for me. I walked down the aisle with my father to attend my meeting with destiny.

Hubs isn’t from a Catholic family. We decided to get married in my Church but with an abbreviated ceremony. (Blessings, readings and vows.) My brothers were the altar servers. As they made faces behind  the priest’s back, I tried my hardest not to laugh. A girl I had known since the age of six sang “Morning Has Broken”. We vowed to ’love and honor’ each other. (I made sure there was no ‘obey’!) The entire service lasted twenty minutes.

Hub’s godfather catered our reception. It was held in a local firehall.  Our mothers decorated with streamers and bells and paper table cloths. Only our family and very few of our friends were there. The kid I played stickball with was there and my best friend from high school was there. Another friend, who said “she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to be invited to her friend’s wedding” crashed the party. Aunt Helen took off her slip and waved it above her head as she danced. The best man passed out while dancing with one of our cousins. One of the waiters got drunk on the free booze and threw up all over the rest room. It was one hell of a party. It is still remembered fondly by everyone who was in  attendance that day.

We left early with the intention of changing our clothes and going back to our families houses. Instead, we sat down on the couch in our little apartment and promptly fell asleep. We let everyone make their own assumptions as to what we were doing. Eventually, we made our stops and said goodbyes. We spent the night in a hotel near the airport and left for the Chesapeake Bay the next morning.

Every detail of that day is etched in my mind like it was yesterday. Hubs can recall the guest list, what people talked about and what music was played. Friends often recall the fact that once the music started, the dance floor was never empty.

Our wedding cost our parents almost $2000. Seriously. My gown and my sister’s gown were $20 each. They were simple prom gowns-the same style-mine white, hers blue. Someone had ordered them, had them tailored and never picked them up. I wore a wreath of baby’s breath in my hair and that was only because my godmother insisted. (You can’t get married in the house of the Lord without your head covered!) I carried daisies. I wore Great Mom-Mom’s pearl earrings. Mom-Mom made the cake.

I remember that I never got nervous. I remember that I never had a doubt.

I remember it all because it was the best day of my life.

A funny thing happens during a vacation, holiday, or long weekend. You know what it is because you  have all felt it at one time or another.

It is the “Time Warp”.

I was able to hang out on the Fourth doing nothing in particular. I played on Facebook and played with Bandit. I visited my FIL in the hospital. Later on in the afternoon, my son gathered up his single friends who had no plans and held an impromptu barbecue. All in all, it was a great day.

After sleeping in a bit on Saturday, I got up, showered, and went out to breakfast with my girlfriend and my daughter. It was a good time. I napped in the afternoon and when I woke up, it had happened. Time shifted.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were things that I had to get done because “tomorrow is a work day.” I felt like I had to finish other things because the radio shows that I listen to were coming on soon. I thought my son had to go to work because it was Sunday night.

It was no such thing. It was only Saturday.

This particular ‘time warp’ is different from wishing that time would move faster.”It’s only Wednesday??” Doesn’t apply. It’s the warp where you realize that you  have an extra day. You can sit down and relax or finish the job that you have been putting off.

It is kind of related to the feeling when you eat dinner early or finish a task way ahead of time. “Why, it’s still early! I still have time to ___!”

When the holiday happens to fall on a Monday, it makes the week whiz by. Thursday comes along and all of a sudden you realize that the weekend will  begin tomorrow!

It’s a time warp and it’s a bonus.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdu7xoHU9DA

I don’t usually pay a whole lot of attention to the Fourth of July. Well, yes I do, but in the superficial way. You know, barbecues, fireworks, parades and such. But I don’t usually think about it.

This year, America is beating me over the head with it’s significance.

I watched Good Morning America yesterday and I saw Senator McCain spout alot of incomprehensible bullshit when asked a direct question by Robin Roberts. He rambled on and on about South America and the drug problems.He never addressed the question posed to him….”Why are you there at a time when the American public is in such financial straits?”

I’m not saying that I am for either him or Senator Obama, but I am glad that I have the right to choose.

I watch the news and see the horrors playing out in other countries. Women are unheard and unseen. There are no freedoms. And I am glad that I am living here.

A man is being arraigned in Philadelphia today on charges of  aggravated assault, making terroristic threats and corruption of a minor for making a  video for YouTube detailing the correct way to shoot a cop . He allegedly showed this to his son too.  I was appalled by the hatred spewed by this man. I was disgusted that anyone could feel this way about our protectors. But he is using his freedom of speech. And as much as I disagree with him, I am glad that the right exists.

And every day, you and I make use of our freedom of expression by writing whatever we want on our blog. We choose whether or not we want to read the words put down by others. We choose the topics we wish to blog about. And I am glad that right exists.

So when you head off to your parades, your barbecues, and your fireworks, thank your forefathers for all that they did to ensure that we have a country like this.

Have a safe and happy Fourth. 

My Dad is just a normal man. Six foot, three inches of blue-collar EveryMan. He is honest as the day is long. Smarter than one might think. Wickedly funny. And secretly sensitive. Growing up, Dad was always working or napping. He was the man to be feared. When Mom said,”Wait til your dad gets home”, you shook in your shoes.

When I reach into the past for some of my clearest memories of my dad, this is what I come up with….

I remember my Dad walking into our apartment, sweaty and tired after a long day of work, and kissing my sister on the top of her head as she sat in her high chair. (Mom said I had to be close to three years old.)

I remember sitting at the table sobbing, as my dad tried for the umpteenth time to teach me long division. I remember that I started right after dinner and we finished past my 8:30 bedtime. ( I passed math that year with flying colors)

I remember getting suspended for drinking in high school. He had to take the day off to meet with the nuns. He defended me and denied the possibility that I was guilty…even though he knew I was guilty as sin!

I remember the humiliation I suffered when he picked my sorry ass up from a kegger.I couldn’t even stand up between my friends who sheepishly dragged me to his car. And he never blinked an eye when I claimed to have only had 2 beers.

I remember waiting my cue to begin walking down the aisle at my wedding. My arm through his, he squeezed and whispered “The car is right out that door beside the curb. We can get into it and drive if that’s what you want. No questions asked.” I never loved him more than at that moment.

I remember when Son2 was born. Hubs had pneumonia and was banned from the hospital. Mom and Dad came to get me at 2 in the morning. Mom was my birth coach. We got to the hospital and I was put into a wheel chair. As they wheeled me away, Dad kissed me and said “See ya later” and he turned away quickly so that I couldn’t see that he was crying.

I remember five years later, as I was home alone and miscarrying. I called him and couldn’t even breathe through the pain. He charged into my house, and lifted me from the floor in his capable hands and carried me to the waiting car. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up in the recovery room.

These are not the only things that come to mind. They are just the most vivid. Last month we celebrated his 65th birthday. Yes, he is still young. Apparently he gives Mom a reason to buy lingerie at Victoria’s Secret (AAH!! TMI, MOM!!!!)  He is still the one I’d call in a pinch.

And I’m sure he could still find a way to pick me up if I needed it.

I love you, Dad.

Sunday is my one year Blogaversary,but since it is also Father’s Day, I’m posting this today.

One year……It seems to have gone by so fast, which is strange because when I was waiting for the holidays or for vacation, it seemed to c.r.a.w.l. by. I have learned alot of things about my blogging friends but more than that, I have learned about myself.

I have learned that even though everyone complains about memes and never wants to be tagged, they sure do jump at the opportunity to do one  and thus save themselves from a “dry day”.

I have learned that I have been to the doctors alot this past year, mostly for myself. Thankfully, I got the job done and I’ll be cool for another year or two.*knock wood!*

I have learned that although I have considered myself to be a fairly easy-going person, alot of things piss me the hell off. The difference is that before I blogged, many of these things went unexpressed. This led to mood swings that were borderline psychotic. Now that I can spew forth through my keyboard, I find myself relaxing more than I can ever remember doing.

I have learned that when your world comes crashing down around you, your friends are there to help pick you up. I have seen the depths of despair and the heights of joy through the eyes of my friends. I have seen the generosity of strangers. And I have seen you open your hearts to me and to each other.

I have learned that I am crazy in love with my family. Only the ones you love can make you become a raving lunatic. Only the ones you love can hurt you so very deeply. Only the ones you love can make your heart swell with pride. Only the ones you love ever see you in your jammies, with last night’s mascara running across your eyes, with that white gunk on the side of your lips, while dragon fumes escape your mouth and all the while STILL give you a hug and kiss in the morning!

Blogging has become so personal and simultaneously public to me. I have made some of the best friends. You make me laugh. You make me cry. You let me know that I am not the  only one out there who feels like a dork.

And you let me know that some days,  though I may be the only one in the house, when an outburst of laughter is heard, it’s just me….being silly with my friends.

I was visiting my buddies and the title of one post jumped out at me. “We Are Family” by the Pointer Sisters. Once upon a time I kinda like that song. Notice- I said once upon a time.

This is just one of the songs that is banned from the weddings of my kids (and I believe they feel the same way)

1.  “We Are Family”  — Oh come on! Played at every wedding as though nobody knows that it is a FAMILY event! Even worse is the one person that goes to every table grabbing someone not dancing and screaming “BUT IT’S THE FAMILY SONG!!”

2.  “Old Time Rock and Roll” — Bob Seegar. Cool song, great beat, and you can’t top that sexy gravelly voice. However, every time I hear it, I have visions of every old person alive “rocking out” and I mean literally rocking. Doing that old person dance that consists of a shuffle and wiggling the arms from side to side.  Blech!

3.  “Celebration” –Kool and the Gang. Um…am I wrong but isn’t it understood that parties are a celebration?? Isn’t there another song that’s acceptable?4.  “Wonderful Tonight” –by Eric Clapton. Lovely song, lovely sentiment, and Eric Clapton. But could it get any slower? I always feel like he is going to fall asleep in the middle of a verse. I have seen too many people dancing to this at the end of a reception and practically pass out while leaning on their partner.

4.  “YMCA” –by the Village People. Why does Aunt Sadie always have to risk a broken hip trying to keep up?

Before everyone gets mad that one of their favorite songs is listed above, just remember that the name of my blog is “Don’t Wanna Hear It”.  Besides, I didn’t say I flat out hated all of them. I just think that just once, I’d like to attend a wedding in which these particular songs were passed over. Although my kids have said none of these will play at their weddings, I just know that one of them will include EVERY.ONE.OF.THEM. just to piss me off. How do I know this? It’s what I would do!

 PART I

 I have FINALLY gotten the pictures of the Friday Fiasco downloaded. And here we now have the ongong saga of the burn.

This is the sad strap. Near the point of the arrow, we have actual hole. The rest is melted sash. This was  after the strap was fixed.(See the hasty stitches in white?)

This is my lovely daughter Babygirl. Isn’t she beautiful? I love the way she looks when she’s not wearing black Chuck Taylor Converse sneakers and torn jeans. She cleans up well! ( Like her mama!) Just pay no mind to the mess in the background!

And these? This is a picture of the future. It’s so bright ya gotta wear shades!

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PART II

Good news everybody!  Well, it is for me. Starting next week, the needles into my spine will begin and continue for the following six weeks. Whoop-dee-fuckin-doo!! But I got a promise that since they will be done on Tuesdays, I will be okay to drink myself into a coma, dance on bars, and brawl in the alleys  by the time Friday rolls around! So that means parties with my girls!!! (And you know who you are!!)

The unthinkable happened.

Before Babygirl could come running through the door after softball to shower and dress for the Soph Hop, I looked at her dress. Hm… a few wrinkles. As long as I’m ironing her brothers’ shirts, I might as well just touch up the dress too.

I pulled out the ironing board and plugged in the iron. I sipped my coke and put down the cup……and spilled it!!!

The icy cold  tasty beverage crept closer and closer to the dress but I snatched it up and threw it on the floor. Crisis averted! No soda made it onto the white dress. I cleaned up the soda and lay the dress out to iron it.

The satin straps were scrunched up from hanging on the hangar. I started there.

But I never checked the setting. The strap melted!!  

Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Metalmom burned the dress TWO HOURS before she had to leave! I called the dress store to see if they had another in her size……no such luck. What will I do??

I cried. I called Mommy. (Mommy had no idea, other than to suggest that I run out and buy her a new one.) Now I am sobbing. Since Babygirl is going with my best friend’s son, I called her. She spoke the four most beautiful words anyone can say to their best friend….“I’ll be right there.”

She took off the offending strap, flipped it over and sewed it back on. If you didn’t know it was there, you wouldn’t notice it unless you were looking very closely. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Major crisis averted!

I took pictures. Of the dress, of the burn, of my baby and her Handsome. Yes, I did, because I needed proof of my ineptitude. I was going to show you all.

She borrowed my camera and it’s  with her right now being filled with her memories. So I guess no pictures will get posted until Monday. 

How did Babygirl react to this situation? She looked at the dress and began to cry. And I started crying again. And then she said “It’s okay Mom. It isn’t too bad.” and with those words she began to comfort me! As we hugged it out, she turned her head and whispered into my ear, “You are NOT allowed to iron my prom gown!”

Well, DUH!