I like a joke as much as the next person. I don't take things very seriously and I hope you don't either. Hope you didn't come here to whine 'cause I don't wanna hear it!
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’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.
*I washed Babygirl’s favorite pillow (it was covered in drool). After washing it, it got that “sour smell”. I’m hoping I can get the smell out because I spent $16.oo on that damn pillow 4 years ago!
* I thought I finished all the laundry…and then I found a full basket of dirty stuff hiding behind a door. Why does that shit always happen??
*I forgot to thaw out a roast I wanted to make for dinner. Instead we are having eggs and bacon.
*There were trucks all over the street but not a man was to be found working……what the fuck is up with that??? Maybe that’s why we’re still waiting for the street to be finished!
*I made a doctor’s appointment for Babygirl to get a physical……at 9am on the day after an evening wedding and reception! Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Now I have to reschedule it! What the hell was I thinking?
* I am in desperate need of a shower. My hair is greasy and I’m sweaty from playing and walking with the kids and my shit-eating dog. So I think I’ll end this and get into the shower before someone else steals my idea!
The other day, Alex and Mark were here. Since my allergies have been kicking my ass, I took Benadryl and lay on the couch for most of the day letting them watch movies. As I lay there, the house began to shake. My ears were assaulted by a most ungodly noise.
The trucks had returned.
One after another, they came. They came to dig, to haul, to tamp. They came to scoop, to pour, to level.
And yes, this is still the work that we were told would be finished by mid-July!
My niece, who knew I had taken pictures before, asked if she could use my camera. “Sure! Why not?” was my reply. It was a way to pass some time since we could no longer hear the television. Little did I know that she would outdo me in the photography department.
All of the following pictures were taken by my six year old niece Alex. (Who wants to be a photogaffer–or a pitcher-taker)
I think she did an awesome job. I swear I did nothing to help her!
The men smiled as they watched her take picture after picture. I think she has some talent. I think she got it from her favorite aunt in the whole world!
What the fuck is happening to the Metalmom I used to be? Where is my edge? Where is my sarcasm? When was the last time I had a good bitch on a Monday morning?
All of a sudden I’m like a girl…..
Love this, and love that…..I miss this, I miss that…..Isn’t this wonderful?……I’m discussing FEELINGS for crying out loud!
Go ahead. Tell me that it must be hormones……SHUT UP! I’m allowed to get girly…..
Shit! Now I’ve gone and done it…..I’m crying. Snot running out of my nose. What a wuss!
I wrote a post about connecting with my brother and Amber said:
“It just caused a chain reaction of emotions:
Jealousy - you can talk to your brother, hear him laugh, hug him, yell at his kids… whatever.”
She is jealous because her brother is no longer with her. Knowing this, when I read her comment, I had a “heart-twinge”.
I get this feeling often when I write a post. I may write about my relationship with my kids, but I know that someone out there doesn’t have that. I may write about being in love with Hubs, but I know there is someone who doesn’t have a partner. I may write about playing with my dog, but I know that someone has just lost their little buddy.
Every so often I find myself …. not necessarily censoring myself… but holding my tongue, so to speak. I do this in person too. I won’t tell someone about a recent purchase if I know that they are flat broke. I won’t talk about the incredible sex I had last night if I know that they haven’t gotten any since the last millennium. I won’t talk about the indescribable cheesecake I had for dessert if they are battling diabetes.
How do you deal with this? Do you stop discussing? Stop sharing? What if you share something and the other person suddenly bursts into tears? But then again, what if, by bringing up the subject, you are enabling someone to re-evaluate their feelings? What if, by sharing, you evoke the wonderful memories that someone holds locked in their heart?
A) Four places that I go to over and over: The Library (for the books), Acme (for the food), CVS (for the drugs), the Co-Op(local market for anything I forgot at Acme).
B) Four of my favorite places to eat: Charlie Browns, the Olive Garden, Neil’s Steakhouse, and Mom’s house
C) Four places I would rather be right now: Amsterdam - with Dutchbitch and Jill showing me around, In the mountains of New Mexico, visiting the sites in Japan, On a beach in Tahiti.
D) Four people I think will respond: Any man will respond if you cup his balls.
E) Four TV shows I watch over and over: Saving Grace (Love Holly Hunter) Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Leave it To Beaver, LA Ink
Since I cheated with (D), I’ll throw in an (F)
F) Four Movies you watch repeatedly: The Princess Bride, City of Lost Children, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, The Devil’s Rejects.
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.
RSS Atom
I wish it wasn’t true!
