I have a wedding to go to soon. September 5th to be exact. While I am happy for the bride and groom, and the chance to get out with Hubs, I have also been dreading it. Why?

I have to dress “nice”.

I am a jeans and tee shirt girl. I also like sweats. But Metalmom + dresses = hot mess. Usually. I got lucky. This time it won’t be a pitiful sight.

My BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD came through for me.

We had planned on dress shopping today. It was a job I dreaded with every atom in my body. I was prepared for disappointment, anger and depression. Instead, when she picked me up, we stopped back at her house to pick up her daughter. “Hey, why don’t you try on the dress I wore to  my nephew’s wedding?” she asked.  Usually this trick doesn’t work. She likes her dresses long and I like mine short. (Hey, I have great legs! I like to show ‘em off!)  She likes browns, tans, and black. I like reds, blues, and even yellow.  She will cover up as much as possible and I will show it all off. We don’t normally agree.

Well, if you knew her, you’d know that we weren’t going to get out of the house until I humored her and tried it on. So we went to her room. She searched the closet for the black dress (I was only marginally interested. I knew it was sexy, but I didn’t think it would fit me.) Guess what? IT DID!!!!  Not only that, but she pulled out another dress for me to try on for shits and giggles. THAT FIT TOO!!

So now I have two dresses to choose from. Yay!

Plus! Just so we didn’t waste the rest of the afternoon, we went to the mall anyway and I found shoes! And other things to wear with the dress (underwear) I was more than happy because I didn’t have to try everything on for her approval.  She is a girly-girl who likes to shop. She loves to try on and she loves to see what I try on. She will go to a bazillion stores just to see what her options are. Not me. So I was blessed that I didn’t have to shop in eight different stores because I “might find something better in store three or five”. I went into store one, found shoes, bought ‘em and walked out. I went into the next store, found a bra that I liked - in my size!- and again, I walked out.

Done! Just like that!

That kind of shit never happens to me. It may take a month of constant searching for me to find something that I can tolerate putting on let alone wear into the public eye. It is a rare thing to find an entire outfit with the minimum of aggravation. You ladies know what I’m talking about.

She’s coming over tomorrow so that she can see the whole shebang. You know, the dress, the shoes, the foundations…. I’ll put them on. Not to humor her this time. This time I’ll try them on like a fashion show so that she can help me choose. Maybe I’ll let her take pictures and I’ll let you guys help me too.

Hmmm…there’s an ideer!

I got a new vacuum.

It’s about freaking time too. About 15 years ago, a friend gave me his old one when he….um…was ‘going away’ for an extended ‘vacation’. Since he wouldn’t need an apartment, he gave away alot of his belongings. Since my own vacuum was a piece of shit, I was hella happy to get his!

After many years of use and abuse, the vacuum was shot. The bag no longer zipped shut. The bristles of the beater bar were damn near non-existent. The creamy beige color? Uh, was that beige at some time? You’d never know it now.

Last summer, Hubs the Benevolent got me a new one. Actually, we got it at a liquidators. (This translates into refurbished and reboxed) I loved it. It had attachments that the old vac lacked. I could reach the top of draperies –not that I did, but I could if I wanted to. I never knew how much suction the old one had lost. Now, I only vacuumed half of my downstairs before the dirt canister needed to be emptied! Not only that, but the beater bar needed cleaning right away.

You see, Metalmom and Babygirl both have long hair. Babygirl’s friends and Son1’s girlfriend all have long hair. This means that it ends up EVERYWHERE no matter how dilligently we try to keep it in the bathroom or the bedrooms.

The first month was the honeymoon. I faithfully took the bar out to untangle the hair that could burn a rotator belt in no time. And then one day…….

I was in a hurry.

I was careless with the bar. While it was off, I managed to lose the ball bearings that help it roll. It no longer worked.     Since it was refurbished, there was no warranty. Since it had been a discontinued model, there were no replacement parts readily available…even from the manufacturers!

So there it sat, in the corner of my room, waiting for ‘Big Trash Day’ when it could be carted away. And that day came and went. But I forgot to put it out. There it sat, mocking me with its glorious attachments. It taunted me with it’s unused power. It reminded me daily of my carelessness.

But I had kept the old vac. I don’t know why, but I did. And it was recalled into service. Only Old Faithful now lacked a certain vitality. Things just weren’t the same between us. He could no longer get the job done. We drifted further and further apart.

Wednesday night, Hubs surprised me and we bought a new one. He’s a handsome devil, I’ll give him that. (The vacuum…..well, Hubs is too, but I’m talking about the vac here!) It is every bit as strong as the other. It’s lines are sleek and younger looking. It came with a warranty! I can get replacement parts easily by calling a toll-free number!

Somehow, I can’t seem to bring myself to put Old Faithful out to the curb. I think I will tuck him into a corner of the basement. Soon, it won’t hurt so much to see him wasting space.

Soon, I’ll be ready to say a permanent goodbye.

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.

I was on the phone tonight with my brother (the older of the two) and it was so weird, but natural at the same time. We don’t usually talk unless it’s important. We both believe that “no news is good news” and we are content to leave things that way. The strange thing is, that even though we don’t ‘chat’ often or even visit (He lives 5 minutes away), we never seem to be missing anything that is going on in each other’s lives.

His kids are new teenagers. (13 and 14) I have been there, done that. My kids are older. He hasn’t grown up so much that he doesn’t remember what it’s like. Therefore we have a ‘touch’ spot for reference. He gets what I am going through and I get what his life is like.

We are the “responsible” ones. We have families. We have good kids. We have wonderful relationships with our spouses. When it comes to the other brother and the sister, we both get equally frustrated with their choices in child rearing, relationships, drinking, womanizing, you get the drift… I get to deal with her and he gets to deal with him. It is as fair as you get in that situation.

We were on the phone for an hour and a half, talking about the kids growing up so fast, How is work?, How’s your honey?, Have you visited Mom lately?, Did you watch the Phillies the other night? Nothing and everything.

We got ready to hang up and just before good-bye, he said, “Love you, Sis.” I said “Love you too.”

I know how he feels. He knows how I feel. We don’t say it often, but we know.

It was nice to hear it tonight.

Remember when you were a kid and you spent a day or two home sick? Remember what it was like to go back to school and everything was ‘normal’ but it felt ‘different’?

That’s how I’m feeling today.

While things were busy happening here at home, other things were happening in the blog-world. I missed it. Not all of it, mind you, but a bit. I didn’t have time to read every post every day. The majority of my ‘regulars’ were read. A few were commented on. But more than a few, I read and immediately forgot. This isn’t because what was written was forgettable. I would say that it is because there were other more immediately pressing things intruding on my thoughts.

I missed whatever went on among my friends that caused a rift. Was it serious? Was it irreparable? I don’t know.  I hope it is all better. Someone’s computer was sick and it left them offline for a while. Did I notice? No. Someone wrote posts trying to relay her feelings without actually “saying” what it was (for reasons all her own.) But did I “hear” what she was saying? No. Someone went to a convention and reported all the goings-on  that he saw. But I missed that too!

(At this point, I will say that I’m not linking these friends because I seriously don’t think I can remember who wrote what! And besides, we’re such a tightly entwined cyberfamily, that I think we all know who is who.)

ANYhoo…..

I kind of feel like I have returned to school only to hear that so-and-so broke up with her boyfriend, or Mrs. Teacher had a meltdown, or what’s-his-name got suspended. I hear it, after the fact, too late to weigh in,  too late to be part of the surprised, too late to comfort, too late to be “in the loop”.

And now it is time for summer vacation. What will I miss in the week ahead? I hope that all that I miss is good news. I hope that when I get back, I can catch up on things more easily than this time!

Once upon a time, Hubs did a job that required him to get up in the middle of the night to go to work. He worked in businesses that had to be closed in order for him to work, or in areas where motor traffic would be a danger to him. The point is, he’d leave me alone in the wee hours.

Babygirl had just been born, but she was a very good newborn, who slept through the night. In fact, she slept through the night until she was two. This meant that even though I was awake at two, three or four am , I had nothing to do.

Why did I need something to do? Because I find it hard to sleep alone.

I can sleep in the bed alone when I am sick or when I am exhausted. I know that Hubs is in the next room and it’s comforting. I can go to sleep when I know that he is getting up to go to work. He will leave at five or six and I can definitely go right back to sleep. But those late night jobs were sometimes in areas that left him vulnerable to crime or where he was working alone with no backup in case of injury and that thought kept me awake.

He left a short time ago. He left to work in another state and he will stay overnight and come home Friday. It is raining, so I will sit here typing this while I worry about him driving on the highway. I will most likely fall asleep again around 8am. That is when I expect him to call and let me know that he made it to his destination.

After all this time being married, I certainly enjoy being able to stretch out on the bed. I like the comfort of the “middle”. I can fall asleep with the TV on if I feel like doing so.  But  I miss the certainty that come with knowing exactly where he is. Not in a “hovering wife” kind of way, but differently. I find it hard to explain.

Tonght (or more precisely this morning), I have finished doing laundry and will now fold it. I am just about finished packing for vacation. My house is pretty much clean and the dishes are done. What is left?

What’s left is to snuggle with my puppy and wait for the phone call that will finally put me back to sleep.

Today I realized that  I have bounced. Not the straightforward, up/down bounce, but more like the “bounced off a pebble and skewed off to the left” kind of bounce.

The guys returned to work and I have Son1’s girl, J, here with me. Laundry is getting done, clothes are folded and are making it into the drawers, and other signs of routine are beginning to unfold. But it’s not the same.

We’ve spent the past week or so with family. Some traveled up here from Maryland and Florida and others have traveled down from State College. Weddings and funerals as the saying goes…..

Hub’s routine will slowly change. He can’t pop in to see Dad before or after work. Dad always felt like part of the business when Hubs described the  day-to-day grind and when he mentioned the names of the builders that Dad had done business with.

My routine is easier to get back into. The kids take my mind off of things. The little chores can be done with little thought.But still, the mind tends to wander…

My husband lost his father and best friend. It has been devastating to watch.

I, on the other hand, still have both of my parents. My paternal grandfather died when I was nine. I really didn’t understand. My paternal grandmother is still alive. She will be 96 this year.My maternal grandparents lived to the ages of 103 and 105. I met them only once in my life.

As I tried to comfort my children, I never said that “I know how you feel”. I don’t. They were incredibly close to their grandparents. I cannot imagine.

When my own parents die, will I be able to bounce ever again? As much as I can’t stand Mom’s attitude sometimes, she is still MOM. I dread seeing my Dad live without her. I would miss my Dad horribly. He understands me deeper than I think I understand myself. What would I do without him? What would Mom do without him?

Losing someone is like opening a gate into the mind. The ‘what ifs’ come forward begging to be considered. The fears hidden in the deepest recesses catch a glimpse of light and are visible. I feel like a child in the middle of the night, wondering what is lurking behind the closet door.

It is scary.

A few months ago, I asked for your strength and you guys came through with gallons. I will need to go to the well once more.

My father-in -law has been in the hospital since before Father’s Day. There are so many medical issues going on with him that there is no way for me to get into it all. But I need to share this.

Dad has gotten to the point where medicine cannot help him, other than to keep him comfortable. The hospital has declared him stable and wants him released to a nursing home or to private in-home nursing care. Neither of these things will last long because his heart is also failing. This means that we’d have to call 911 repeatedly and have him returned to the hospital over and over.

Therefore, he is coming home today. He is stopping his dialysis. His doctors are giving him two weeks (that is optimistic) We are hoping that it will only be for a weekend. I can’t bear for it to take much longer than that.

I love him. As simple as that. I am crying as I type these words. I need to hold up my husband. I need to hold up my children.

I need you to hold me up.

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. 

Hubs and I took a ride on Saturday. This was our annual “Ride to the shore to find a place for our vacation” This is something that just the two of us do.  We never share this with our kids. We have always gotten babysitters for them. Now that they are older, we just leave. Maybe we will stay overnight, or maybe we’ll come back that  evening.

We drive along in companionable silence. We’ve been together for almost 28 years, so we don’t always need to talk. We can still look at roadkill and suddenly crack up laughing because we thought the  same thing. “That’s a strange place for a raccoon to take a nap.”

We are trapped. If there is something major that needs discussion, this is the time to do it. No one can walk away. No one can slam a door. No one will walk into the room to disturb us.

We are trapped. After only 20 minutes of driving, we lose the major radio stations. It is either silence or CDs. Sometimes we choose CDs. Normally there is a heated debate about which CDs will join us for the ride. It is something that we both need to agree on or else we don’t  bring it.  Saturday, we left quickly, so there was no debate. I grabbed the CD case, added a few Hub’s newer CDs and we ran.

We were trapped. I listened to the oldies. We drove along with Roy Orbison, Del Shannon, and Percy Faith. We were serenaded by Little Eva, Martha and the Vandellas, and the Supremes. I didn’t get annoyed or want to tear out my hair.

We were trapped. Hubs listened to Rammstein, Megadeth and Violent Femmes. He didn’t complain. He didn’t tell me to turn it down. I noticed that his fingers tapped the steering wheel in time to the music.

It is interesting the things that you can learn about another person when you are trapped together. Even after nearly 28 years, we are learning about each other. It took this long for us to actually enjoy the other’s taste in music. We talked about what he enjoys about running the business. We talked about what I like about blogging. Yes, we talked about you. He asked what draws me to your writing. He was interested.

We were trapped, yet not trying to escape.