Mothers & Daughters

I'm the oldest child in a family with a very old world, old school mother--think Joy Luck Club. To understand this story you'd need to know a bit about my mom. My mom is not only old school Asian from the old country...she also married my dad at 17 and had me at 19...so she's not exactly the most worldly of souls...and she's pretty religeous. If you know anything about how Asian families work, you know that all responsibilities lie on the oldest child's shoulders...as does all blame. And you're guilty till proven innocent.

Now those of you who know me know that my dad is actually very Anglo...however, my dad wasn't around much...especially not for my teenage years. I won't lie and say I wasn't a bit of a hellion teenager...though I kept my carrousing to boys...but since my mom married young, she had some concerns about my exuberant nature. I admit...I was kryptonite for more than my share back in the day...(some even fondly nicknamed me "jailbait")...but I was mostly a tease...Yeah, I can admit it now that I'm all grown up.

So anyway, one day, I'm getting ready for school when my mother's voice blasts me hard, screaming at me about my sexual activity and how sinful my behavior was and how I'd better repent. She was yelling about my "birth control pills" and wanted to know how and where I'd got them. I was confused as hell. I wasn't ON birth control and had NO idea what in Hades she was talking about. I kept trying to ask, but asking only made her angrier...which meant her volume got louder and her screaming became incoherent.

My little sister sauntered out of our shared bedroom to see what the ruckus was about... Even SHE was shaking her head...and then it all came together.

Sis: Where did you find this birth control?
Mom: In the bathroom, just sitting on the counter!
Sis: Was it wrapped in a metal foil square with about 6 to a sheet?
Mom: Yes!
Sis: MOM! That's my cleaning enzyme for my contact lenses!!!
Mom (looking sheepishly at me): Well? How was I supposed to know! You're always flirting with boys.
Me: You know, you could at least apologize.
Mom: Go to school.

And then about a year or so later my mom comes up to me and tells me that she doesn't want me hanging out with one of my girl friends anymore because she thinks that she's a bad influence. Considering how wholesome and clean cut this girl was in high school, I was confused, so I asked why. "Because she's influenced you to use marijuana!!!" my mom explodes.I looked at my mom like she'd lost her mind and told her that I'd never USED marijuana. I could see by the look on her face that she didn't believe me, so I started thinking...what on earth could have made her think I was on pot? And then I realized...and started laughing hysterically.Mom: It's not funny! Drugs are bad for you!

Me: I know, Mom. Were the "drugs" you found wrapped up in plastic wrap and sitting on the ironing board in your bedroom?
Mom: Yes!
Me: Mom, that wasn't marijuana...that was Catnip!!! Couldn't you tell by the smell?
Mom: OH!!! (like she understood everything now) Well I've never been around marijuana, so I don't know how it smells. What's catnip?
Me: It's this stuff that you give cats and it makes them all hyper. Brad White gave it to me as part of my Valentine's Day gift. Did you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to leave drugs on YOUR irnoing board in YOUR bed room? Come on, Mom. I'm at LEAST smarter than THAT!
Mom: Oh. (and just like that she walked away)

Brad, the boy I'd been dating at the time, had given me two red roses for the two weeks we'd been dating, a card, a mix-tape he'd made where he'd also dictated why each song made him think of me before he'd play the song...AND, thinking he was clever...he bought me a box of catnip as a play on my names...because it makes "Kats go crazy." Ha-ha! There was only one little ball to put catnip in, so I'd wrapped the remaining catnip in plastic wrap so that it wouldn't spill everywhere and make a mess...and I'd forgotten it on my mom's ironing board.

I guess it couldn't be easy, being a single mom to a daughter prone to being an incorrigible flirt, especially since she'd never really experienced much of life. I've got to give her credit, though... She tried. Poor thing, I think she spent my teenage years terrified of what could happen next.

The Man WE Called Elvis

This is probably one of the only pictures of Uncle Don I have, but it says it all. There he is, walking his best girl (next to her mom) down the aisle as she gets ready to get married. You can all but see the pride on his face as he looks at her...to him, she's perfect, just the way she is. I imagine he's also whispering words of humor and encouragement, because that's also who he was. He loved us all with all his heart...and we always knew it. He just had that way about him.

As children we all called him Uncle Elvis. He wore his "greaser" 'do with pride...and that never changed...only his hair color. He had a way of setting each of us kids at ease...which is no small feat considering that there were 18 of us...all with very strong, very different personalities. There was NO question in our clan that we were all pretty rowdy, outspoken, unruly bunch...especially when we got together. But he always took it in stride...always with a smart alleck comment, a hair pull...something to let us know that each of us was special and unique.

As a child of a broken home, I used to watch his relationship with Aunt Carol (and Uncle Steve's with Aunt Julie) and hope that I'd be lucky enough to find someone who loved me like that. Last fall when my grandma died, these feelings were cemented...by some old home videos that they'd had digitally transferred onto DVD. It showed them in high school...and later... I saw the way Uncle Don looked at Aunt Carol as they prepared to leave for the prom...like she was the most beautiful girl in the world. I watched him steal a kiss from her during the holidays as gifts were being handed out and exchanged... And I realized...It's a love like that...one that's stood the test of time...one that's just bone deep...one that simply IS... THAT's what I want.

Everyone was blessed to have Uncle "Elvis" in their lives. The cousins from the "divorced" side of the family never felt like "misfits" when he was around. We just somehow knew we'd be okay...and that he knew it too. Honestly, sometimes I think he spent a little extra time with us just to make sure we knew just how much a part of the family WE were...no matter how screwed up our parents' relationships were. Honestly, even now, I think the best move Aunt Carol ever made was marrying him and making him a member of our family. I couldn't have asked for a better uncle.

It's gonna be tough without him. I can only imagine how Aunt Carol, Amy, Donnie, and Barry feel...I mean, Aunt Carol has had him there for over 45 years... I really HATE Cancer.

Simple Faith

I turn 34 in 7 days. Back when I was about 27-28, the thought would've terrified me. I would've been concerned, wondering why my life plan is so off course... I mean, 34 and still unmarried, no prospects, and no kids? How could this be? The biggest flirt of my junior high and high school class...still single?

But times have changed. I've changed. I can't count how many times in the last 5 years I've had people misguidedly accuse me of being afraid of committment. The truth is I'm not. With the right person. I just haven't met him yet....or maybe I did...a long time ago, but I wasn't ready for it at that time...and neither was he. And it's not as though I've never been hurt or heartbroken or disappointed. I've been devastated by love that hasn't lasted. Hurt by men who either wanted to change me or who dated me, then realized they wanted someone else or something else. And yet here I am...

The funniest part is that what people tend to read as fear of committment is actually something much more surprising. Despite everything, all my disappointment, my heart break, breaking other people's hearts...I've somehow managed to hold on to my idealism. I still believe in true love. How that happened, I have no idea, but there it is. And I'm not talking about that head-in-the-clounds, dreamy eyed love that most of us girls dreamed of in high school and younger...

Why do I call myself a romantic? Because I still believe that it's possible to find a guy who will listen to me, who loves me as I am, a man who knows I can fight my own battles, but is always in my corner for moral support or back up if I ask for it. Someone who's not intimidated by my intelligence or my successes, but cheers me on and has his own. I believe I should be the most important woman in his life, though not necessarily the only one...(and I'm talking friends, family, etc.) I want a man who will stand up to me as quickly as he'd stand up for me, who supports my dreams as much as I support his. Someone who can make me laugh, who can hold me if I cry, and is not afraid to share his own laughter and tears, but trusts me enough to realize it won't make him any more or less a man in my eyes. Someone who still believes that marriage is a lifetime committment that takes a lot of hard work and won't take easy outs just because things get tough. More importantly, someone with common interests who also has plenty of interests that we don't have in common and isn't afraid to do those things without me...and with his friends...and will afford me the same kinds of freedoms.

How is it I haven't yet given up on this man? I don't expect perfection...just someone who shares the same general values and who will make a good parent if we were lucky enough to have children...but is smart enough not to lose ourselves in the lives we build...or allow the children we may have to define the people we are. And through it all...I want a man who will recognize when I need my man, not my husband.... I think that's why, though I'm not married...Andy Griggs' song is one of the sexiest songs I know....and is something I hope for one day.

Tonight I Wanna Be Your Man

Baby light a couple candles
Lock the bedroom door
Put on some sweet soul music
Throw a blanket on the floor
Surrender to my patient hands
All week I've been your husband
Tonight I wanna be your man

It hit me just this morning
When I passed you in the hall
I swear I caught you looking
Like you don't know me at all
Let me show you who I am
All week I've been your husband
Tonight I wanna be your man

I'll always be your cover when your cold
When the world lines up against you
I'm the safe place you can go
Now and then we need to find some time to be in love
Just be in loveNow the whole world's in bed sleeping
I think we're finally alone
If the telephone starts ringing
We'll pretend like we're not home
Cause any fool would understand
All week I've been your husband
Tonight I wanna be your man

Let me show you who I am
All week I've been your husband
Tonight I wanna your man
Just forget about that wedding band
All week I've been your husband
Tonight I wanna be your man

And you know what? One day, when I least expect it, someone is going to manage to sneak up on me...and I'll finally take that plunge... Once I know he's the right man to for my heart. And I truly believe my heart will know him. Okay, go ahead and laugh now...I know. 34, single...and oddly idealistic. Who'd have thought? After everything, I still believe in a forever kind of love!

A Brighter Future

I'm tired. Tired of letting my past control my present. The truth is, not all my childhood was bad. For a little while I had the childhood we all hope we can give to our children one day. So it didn't last. Does that make me a victim? Hell no. That's a conscious choice that we make. There's a difference between being victimized and being a victim. Lately I've realized that the thing that's been driving me is "not being a victim". The problem with that? It guarantees that you WILL become one....because your fears are wrapped up in being a victim. You inadvertently gravitate to it. So, as they say...if you close your eyes to see your future and you don't like what you see...change your future. It's really as simple as that.

I could sit here crying over spilt milk...and for a time I needed to do it...to let the poison out. But I'm looking at things differently these days. My past, present, and future are like a car. My future is the headlights...it just shows me where I want to go. No more, no less. My present is the steering wheel. It's what heads me in the right direction or allows me to change directions if I don't like the direction I'm headed in. My past? That's my rearview mirror. Now I can sit there and look back and see all the near misses or mistakes or missed opportunities...but you know what? I can't change the past. So instead, when I look back, I see all the ground I've covered and how far I've come. And it's made a difference. I'm happier with what I see, and I realize...I've come a long way! Not only that, I've grown. I've gotten better...and I've had a lot of successes along the way. I think that's a hell of a lot healthier to focus on.

So on this Father's day, instead of whining about what I didn't have, I'm gonna be glad for my step dad who has always tried to be there for me...even though he came into my life much later. And I'm going to celebrate all the father figures that I've had along the way that have shown me what I want for my own kids...if I were to have them. And I'm going to celebrate the fact that I still have my dad, and I love him, and that he's made less mistakes with my youngest sister.

In celebration of my positive outlook, I'm going to post a song that reminds me that we all make an impact on the people we touch...and that this is what I want for any future children I may be blessed with someday. And now I'm one step closer to knowing the kind of man I would share my life with.

RODNEY ATKINS LYRICS

"Watching You"

Driving through town just my boy and me
With a happy meal in his booster seat
Knowing that he couldn't have the toy
Till his nuggets were gone
Green traffic light turned straight to red
I hit my breaks and mumbled under my breath
His fries went a flying and his orange drink covered his lap
Well then my four year old said a four letter word
That started with "s" and I was concerned
So I said son now now where did you learn to talk like that
[Chorus one]
He said I've been watching you dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo,
I wanna be like you
And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are
We got cowboy boots and camo pants
Yeah we're just alike, hey ain't we dad
I wanna do everything you do
So I've been watching you
We got back home and I went to the barn
I bowed my head and I prayed real hard
Said lord please help me help my stupid self
Then this side of bedtime later that night
Turning on my son's scooby doo nightlight
He crawled out of bed and he got down on his knees
He closed his little eyes, folded his little hands
And spoke to god like he was talking to a friend
And I said son now where'd you learn to pray like that
[Chorus two]
He said I've been watching you dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo,
I wanna be like you
And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are
We like fixing things and holding mama's hand
Yeah we're just alike, hey ain't we dad
I wanna do everything you do
So I've been watching you
[Bridge]
With tears in my eyes I wrapped him in a hug
Said my little bear is growing up
He said but when I'm big I'll still know what to do
[Chorus three]
Cause I've been watching you dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo,
I wanna be like you
And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are
By then I'll be as strong as superman
We'll be just alike, hey won't we dad
When I can do everything you do
Cause I've been watching you

On Mother's Day...

I think every mother/daughter relationship is probably complicated. Even if you're close, with love comes those conflicting emotions of wanting to hang on yet needing to let go. I don't think it probably gets easier with age, either. It's tough for mother's to face that you're all grown up...because the instinct is to look out for you...to protect you.

Now, I'm not a mom, so I won't pretend to know... I just know how my mother and I are. Our relationship is tempestuous at best. That doesn't mean we don't love and respect each other. As the matter of fact, you won't find a daughter more proud or respectful of her mother than me. I know all the obstacles she's overcome...and how much the odds were against her when it came to survival, much less parenting...but she made it happen. She made it work because in her eyes, there were no other options. Her love for us overrode all the statistics. With zero college education and not much more than faith...she took care of us. She was an amazing example. And after we lost my youngest brother, she was still there...pushing forward, harnessing her heartbreak and pain into more faith and a steadfastness that never failed us.

She was a single mom, but she made sure we always had everything we needed...especially emotionally. She supported us in our endeavors. She never laughed at our dreams or told us we weren't good enough. She was simply there. She never missed one of our school performances even though she was working fulltime and picking up whatever overtime she could. She made every single one of our parent/teacher conferences. She made sure we did our homework and that we knew that she expected nothing less than our absolute best at all times. And we gave it to her. The last person we ever wanted to let down was her. Even with all that freedom because of the hours she worked...we didn't abuse it. We didn't stay out all night. We didn't do drugs. We didn't throw wild parties. We rarely attended them. We never got drunk. We were good kids with good grades...and we worked as soon as we were old enough.

She's the strongest woman I know. When I was ten she dealt with the loss of my brother, my dad cheating on her-again, moving from the Philippines to the states, divorcing my dad, then my sexual abuse...and not once did she falter. She was unflappable in the midst of all that chaos...the strength that her other 3 children needed. And when she lost my other brother when I was 14, she still maintained her faith and steadfastness. She's been my rock most of my life....and my example.

The funny thing is, we fight like cats and dogs when we're around each other for too long. I live thousands of miles away from her and it works. We're closer when we're further apart. Why? Because although she taught me to be strong and independent, she always kinda figured it was independent of everyone but her. I've got a mind of my own...and I've had a great example of what tough should look like... I share many of her strengths... How could I not? She's an amazing woman. The problem is, I share some of her biggest flaws, too. Her stubbornness. Her singlemindedness...all those traits that can be both good and bad.

And then there's the generational thing. She's very old school Asian. I'm an All-American tomboy. I frustrate the hell out of her. I'm not quite ladylike enough. I'm too outspoken. I'm too brash, too cocky. And yet she's so proud of me and my accomplishments. I've never doubted that or her love for me...even at our most difficult times in our relationship.

As complicated as our relationship can sometimes be...I love her. She's my hero!

Attitudes

It usually takes a lot to get me heated. I'm generally a pretty laid back person. But not this last Tuesday. Don't get me wrong, part of it had me laughing. The other part. Grrr.

See, I didn't have to work until the afternoon. It happens every once in a while. So when Kirk got ready to leave for work, I took Izzy out to go potty and to say goodbye. She loves doing that. Since I wasn't going anywhere, I left my cell phones and keys in the house. Out of habit, Kirk locked the front door. Doh!

Okay, so the second I realized it I screamed his name...and not in that bedroom voice way. More aggravated humor. It was funny. It was also an accident, and I knew it.

For a second I thought about freaking out. My first thought was...Shit! The one time I don't bring my phones! Just my luck. Then my thoughts shifted quickly to resolution questions. How was I going to get in the house? How was I going to contact Kirk to let me into the house? What now? That's how I work. Probably why my friends all think I thrive on chaos...i.e. work.

And then I remembered. Amber. She has a copy of my house key. She's had it since Izzy was attacked because she'd check on her or sit with her, or take her out. I looked in their driveway figuring worst case, I'd be able to call Kirk if Amber was gone. But all the cars were there, so I knocked on the door. No answer. I rang the doorbell.

Angie came to the door. She's Mike's new girl.

Angie: Yeah, what's up?
Me: Is Amber home? Kirk accidentally locked me out of the house and went to work.
Angie (with a bit of an attitude): I don't know. Is her truck here?
Me: Yeah it is. She has a copy of my key. Can you please just let her know what happened and that I need it?
Angie: Hang on.

She came back to the door with the key, handed it to me, then slammed the door in my face.

Now I know it was a little early. It was around 8am. But I don't randomly just show up on their doorstep for no reason. And Mike, Ben, Kirk and I have been friends for a long time now. Mike chose to purchase the lot next door to us after Kirk picked his lot. Mike's been accidentally locked out of their house on several occassions by Ben. He's hung out at our house while he was waiting. We all have history.

I don't point fingers at this girl or give her attitude...despite the fact that a bunch of our friends feel she's using Mike. I give her the benefit of the doubt. I've been cordial to her. I've been friendly and respectful. So what gave her the idea that it would be acceptable to me for her to get all snooty with me? I definitely didn't appreciate it or find it humorous. Especially considering that just a few days before Mike took her to the Daytona 500...a race that he'd already invited Kirk to. (He uninvited Kirk in order to take her...and then approached him about possibly watching her dogs while they were gone). And Kirk never once said anything because he wants Mike to be happy.

But she'd better watch her step, because she's starting to tread on very thin ice. And I'm not nearly as nice when crossed as Kirk is.

Daddy Issues

My father called. Two days after all the tornadoes hit Florida (where I live) my father called. If it weren't so pathetic, it'd be laughable. Really. Except I have a hard time laughing. There are times when hearing his voice is like rubbing sand in my wounds. I hide them well, but I still have them. None of them are lethal, so I've managed to go on with minimal damages to my self esteem.

The funniest part was, he called me on the pretense of being concerned for me and whether or not I'd been impacted by the tornadoes. And then he asked if his sisters, my aunts, were impacted. Because, of course, I've kept in touch, though he couldn't be bothered most of the time. He's got their numbers, he chooses not to use them. So suddenly he's concerned...ironically enough, it sounded more like small talk than it did actual caring.

Then the real reason for his call came through. He's worried about my youngest sister. Apparently, she's now acting out. She's turned 19 years old and she's been going crazy on freedom since she turned 18. She's dating this guy, she's not coming home, she's not checking in. Her reasoning? "I'm an adult now, I can do what I want and you can't stop me." And they are worried. They bought that crap. Nevermind that she has a part time job that doesn't even make her enough money to pay her cell phone bill, not to mention her car, etc.

He doesn't know what to do. It's funny, really, if it weren't so sad. He never had to worry about my sister and I. Of course he didn't worry anyway. He left that to my mom. He barely remembered we exhisted...with the exception of Christmas and birthdays (and on birthdays he had to be reminded by my grandmother). But now, he's got problems with the only child he DID have a hand in raising, so he turned to me and my sister. Yeah, found out he reached out to her, too. Because apparently he's at his wit's end. He feels helpless.

I don't think he realizes that once upon a time I would've given anything to have him care about me that much. To care enough to check on me, to worry about me, to think of me and wonder what I was doing and if I was okay. I didn't get that. Never have. Not even when he found out that I had been sexually abused. But he had it for Vanessa. I know I sound a bit angry. Really, I'm not. I'm just sad. I'm glad he cares about what is going on with my sister.

On top of everything, he has no idea how to fix the problems that he's worried about. Neither does his wife. As the matter of fact, he put her on the phone with me to give her pointers. And then they both begged me to talk to her...because she loves, respects, and looks up to her big sister. I guess I should be grateful. I always knew where the boundaries were with my mom. As for my dad? Oh, yeah....I feel the love. I guess I matter to him when he needs something. I really feel sorry for him. He missed out.

Touching Lives

I've never been an Anna Nicole Smith fan. I guess I really didn't take into account that there would actually be people who looked up to her and admired her. To me, she always seemed like a bad parody of "White Trash Barbie". Not that I didn't feel for her, especially lately. No one deserves to outlive their children...or to be the one who finds her son dead. No one. My heart went out to her. She hadn't had an easy year. Add that to losing the Trimspa account and several other hard blows, and you really felt badly for her.

So when I heard of her death, I was a bit indifferent. My immediate thought was..."Aww, that's too bad." And I meant it. First she lost her son. Now her baby is going to grow up without her. But overall, it was surreal to me.

It wasn't until this last Friday, where at a team meeting I was holding, one of my employees requested we have a "moment of silence" that I realized that there were some people that admired her brash, brazen nature. And then hearing that one of the message boards I used to frequent were "bashing" her. Personally, I thought that was in poor taste. She may have been a bit crass, but I don't think she deserved that.

It got me thinking back. I realized I remember the first time I'd heard of Anna Nicole. It was when she'd married that old millionaire guy and his family sued for his money, siting that he wasn't in his right mind to will her all of his worldly possessions. And then I saw her in Playboy and though...she really doesn't look too bad for a "plus sized" model. And then there was Naked Gun 33 1/3. She cracked me up in that one. I saw it with my mom and two best friends. I remember admiring the way she could poke fun at her whole sex symbol facade and laugh.

I realized that even though I may not have thought too much of her, she did touch my life...even if it was for a few laughs. Her poor baby, she left behind. I guess I'm not so indifferent afterall.

Mad World

You know, sometimes I wonder what this world is coming to. This last week, I witnessed a child left alone in a car while the mother rushed into the grocery store to pick up whatever was more important than her child's safety. I wouldn't even leave my puppy alone in the car. I was all set to call the cops. She should be grateful I didn't notice right away.

What posesses people to take a chance with something as important as children? I don't have children of my own, but I remember how my mother was. There is no way in hell she would've left a defenseless 2 year old in their car seat in a busy parking lot to fend for himself from whatever sicko or pervert might have been roaming.

Welcome To My Insanity

Two days before Christmas Kirk came home with a gift for me...an adorable puppy. After much playing with her, fawning over her, and just general fun, I decided to name her Isabella...or Izzy for short. She is a Shiba Inu...and when I got her, she was 8 weeks old and 4 lbs 6 oz.

She's a feisty little puppy and quickly won my heart. How could she not? She's smart, stubborn, energetic...and very friendly. It literally took me about 3 days to get her housebroken. She responds well to positive reinforcement....and she's a healthy eater. Well, and she terrorizes my next door neighbor's girlfriend's full grown shelties (they actually love playing with her)...not to mention his cat(she borrowed his toys as they were perfect for her tiny size)...but in a friendly way. (Some have even commented that she's very much like her owner) Why did this make my blog, you wonder.... Well, here's why.

Many of you know that because I'm a retail electronics manager with multiple locations, the holiday season is my busy time of year...so everything slows down for me. The blog writing, the myspacing and cherrytapping, the message boards...yes, even the hanging out with friends. Well, on the 30th...I took a few hours off to attend a friend's wedding about an hour north of my home. While waiting for the wedding to start I got a panicked call from Kirk. Isabella had been attacked the big dog across the street and was headed to the emergency animal hospital. The second I realized what he said I felt my stomach just drop and my heart rate rise. I threw my card at a friend who was there and told her to wish the happy couple well for me and to give them my gift. I'd had an emergency and needed to get home. All I heard from Kirk was that this bigger dog went for Isabella's throat area and that he'd had to punch Ziggy hard in the head to get him to let her out of his mouth...and that a neighbor was driving him to the hospital.


It turns out that Alan, our neighbor across the street, had brought his big German Shepherd/Chow mix dog into our yard. Isabella had just woken up from her nap and had to potty...so Kirk had her outside. Alan thought Ziggy should meet Isabella. After Kirk expressed some concern because Ziggy's not particularly friendly, Alan said everything would be fine...they'd just sniff each other. So Ziggy sniffed her...and when she went to sniff back, she found herself in his mouth. Fortunately Kirk reacted quickly and went to pull her out of his mouth as he punched the 40+ lb dog in the head. According to the vets...it saved her life. That big dog filleted the side of Isabella's face. He managed to bite almost from her eye (he narrowly missed that spot) all the way down past her mouth, pulling off fur, skin, and fat. If Kirk hadn't pulled on her...there would've been muscle damage, too...or possibly death. So at 9 weeks, she had her first surgery...that required her to stay overnight. Kirk and I were a wreck.

They'd had to put an irrigation tube in the side of her face for leakage and to prevent infection. She'd had stitches all up and down the side of her face. She was on antibiotics and doped up on pain meds. The vet bill was over $1000. And now I had to confront the neighbors..fortunately for them and me...they decided to do the right thing and pay since it was the owner's judgement lapse. He'd been drinking, we found out later. Did I mention I was also grand opening a new store? Yeah...I had my hands full and my mind was worried. They weren't sure if the trauma from the injury would cause the skin that they'd tried to sew back on to die or what would happen.

As it turned out...she developed an infection and the skin around the trauma site died. So back to the vet we went. She'd managed to gain weight through the whole thing and went up to 4 lbs 9 oz. But she was gonna have to have a second surgery. This time they cut out all the dead skin and had to pull the skin from her neck up to the skin on her upper face and sew them together...hopefully healing that way. She's a baby, so they said that although it was a traumatic incident, she couldn't-healthwise- have picked a better time because she's still growing and her skin is elastic. But still...more stitches, more time in an e-collar.



She's been a very lucky girl...because this time the wound healed. After nearly bi-weekly visits to the vet...she doesn't have to go for another few weeks. She's also gone up to nearly 8 lbs. My pup is growing like a weed. And I was told that after about a week, once the wound was pretty much healed, I got to take off her e-collar. So yesterday...finally...I got to take off her e-collar. She's still on anti-biotics...and some meds to keep her from being too hyper that she tears open her wound again...but otherwise she's fine. She's even been going for walks/runs around the block...and playing with a lot of the other neighborhood pups again. She's back to her energetic self. Thank GOD!

You know...I took for granted how tough a parent's job was...until she got hurt. I can only imagine how much harder it is on a person when it's their child. Worrying about the puppy was hard enough. Now it's back to the normal stuff...like her teething...and thinking that Kirk is her own personal chew toy. You'd have no idea she'd even been hurt, now...well, except for the shaved hair and the scar...but that will all grow back or wind up covered by hair. Now maybe the rest of the year will go more smoothly.

Go Bears!...since the Cowboys tanked.

Rambles

I'm an open person. What you see is what you get. That's the illusion I've gotten so good at creating. I'm brutally honest, I don't back down, I don't run away. And yet somehow I've gotten very adept at protecting myself. Someone once told me that she thought I was afraid of committment. This was her reasoning for why...after all these years...I've managed to remain single.

I guess my mind has turned to love lately because it's the holidays...because I'm watching a very close friend teeter on the brink...and because everyone's been asking me about it lately. The truth is, I make a great Dear Abby. I dole out advice, honesty, and support in equal doses. I'm terrific at being able to see into someone else's life and help them see things more clearly. And then there's my life. Isn't that always the way it goes?

In business I have a single minded dedication that helps me be successful. Personally speaking I have a deep, dark secret. I put up a lot of walls on purpose. The truth is, I'm cautious when it comes to my heart. The reason? Because I already know....I do everything with intensity...and I never say die. I know that applies to love, too. My closest friends already know that deep down where it counts, I'm soft and loving despite my hard outer shell.

I guess I'm kinda like M & M's that way. And despite my sunny, cynical exterior...I'm a forever kind of girl. So I don't give my heart away...not easily anyway. Playing with boys and flirting...toying with them...that's easy. And it keeps them at arms length. But for me, marriage...that kind of committment...I don't make lightly. To me that's a lifetime thing, so I distance myself...shielding with flirting, and playing, and honesty. So why NOT have fun in the meantime. Nobody's tempted me to share forever yet...

A Piece Of Me

A friend of mine had me thinking about things lately...and because of him, I found myself exploring me...well, the one that used to have time to write. Doing so, I started to look at some of my old things...and I came across something I'd done years ago... It made me nostalgic. I think maybe I need to pick up my pen again. I wrote this back in '94. It might be interesting to see what kind of polish I've gained...not to mention insight...over the years.

Gifts

There aren't many people
I let inside my heart;
Too often they don't care enough
To see beyond the start.

They don't see past externals,
They don't look past my face.
I hide myself away from them
In a very private place.

When I thought I fooled the world
I found you standing there,
Looking past my outer self
Finding my heart bare.

You gazed inside and saw the truth
My hopes, my dreams, my fears.
You, alone, understood
I laughed to hide my tears.

I tried hard not to love you,
I fought so hard to hide.
You would not be pushed away;
You never left my side.

You're the only one who's loved me
through the good and the bad
And so I gave my heart to you,
The most precious gift I had.

Melancholy Moments

I remember when I was young, I couldn't wait to grow up. The time couldn't come fast enough. I think I thought that once I grew up, I'd have all the answers...and that I'd have no one I had to listen to or answer to.

And now that I'm grown? I miss that innocence. I miss when life was so simple. The reality is, the older you get, the more complicated life gets. As you get older you realize that you're a mere mortal...you can be hurt. You can die. Life doesn't last forever, and neither do friendships. Time changes things, as do circumstances and distance.

Looking back, I think of all the people who've made an impact on my life...my grandmothers, my best friend Melanie, and several others....who are no longer a part of my life. I miss them, dammit! And I'm feeling it more deeply today. I just hope to God, regardless of the circumstances that have taken us away from each other...that they know that they mattered to me...and that I love them. They've indellibly impacted my life and my heart. That will never change.

The upside to life today is that we all have the opportunities to reconnect with people, too. Places like Classmates and Myspace have made it a very distinct possibility. For me, myspace has been a blessing...giving me back the gift of several friendships I'd thought I'd lost to time and distance...that have been rekindled. I guess every dark cloud has a silver lining.

What Mattered To Her

Time sure changes...and quickly. Sitting on the ground in this picture is me. Age six. I know this because this was the year we moved from Germany to the Philippines. It was also the year we spent a few weeks in Michigan before we left for the Philippines. The year I met my cousins. The year my grandparents, the two in the back, met my brother Jonathan...seated on my mother's lap. The last time they'd seen Christina (on Dad's lap), she was a baby. My mom is pregnant in that picture...with my brother Paul.

It's one of the last pictures that ALL of us took with my grandparents. Time changed quickly after we left. Now I look at that picture and become so nostalgic. Paul died before we even left the Philippines, Jonathan passed away in '88. Grandpa died in '92. And Grandma? She died September 27 of this year. Somehow I can still look at this picture and feel the love and the warmth.

After Paul died in '82, my mother moved Jonathan, Chris, and me back to the states. And our relationship with our dad deteriorated to stranger...his choice. It's funny, I'm not even angry anymore...it isn't worth it. But I think things would be very different if it hadn't been for Grandma. She's the one who made sure that we got to know that side of the family...even without my father being around. She made sure to have somewhere for us to go during the summer for a few weeks to spend time with her, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins. She made sure we knew we were loved and a part of the family. Because to her....that's what mattered. Love and family. Her life and her needs were simple. And I love her for it.

I was keeping my cool...for the most part. Until the morning of the funeral. Because I didn't get a chance to say goodbye I went early. I thought I'd be fine. Till I saw her, touched her hand, and said goodbye. At that moment I cried like a baby. So many things rushed into my head...things I'd wished I'd said, wished I'd done. And then it was like I could hear her voice telling me to stop. That she loved me...and she knew how much I loved her. Despite all the challenges in my life, she made sure I knew I was loved and accepted...as a child...and she'd not have me questioning that as an adult. And in walked my cousin, so like her mom, so like our grandma with her big heart...to give me a hug. And I let her go.

She had a grandmother's charm bracelet. They were popular back in the day. For every grandchild born, she'd buy a head (boy or girl depending on gender) and she'd have the child's name and birthday engraved on it. And on September 30, 2006, the day after we laid her to rest...I got my head back. She had that head for 33 years. And now it's mine. Getting that made everything seem so final somehow.

She will always be there with me in my memories. I'm just glad she's not in pain anymore and that I'd gotten a chance to know her.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

I'm not a big fan of reality shows. Really, I'm not. I do enjoy talent shows, though. Since I was a little girl I've loved shows like StarSearch... As an adult I fell in love with Nashville Star...and although it's nearly sacreligeous to say, I'm NOT an Idol fan. Mind you, after a few years of seasoning I've come to like Kelly Clarkson's music...and Clay Aiken isn't bad. I also enjoy the music of Carrie Underwood, Kimberly Locke, and Josh Gracin. I think maybe it's the judges and the format of Idol that turned me off.

Anyway...there was one show that intrigued me from the beginning. Maybe because for as long as I remember I've thought Ballroom Dance was beautiful...and Latin was not only gogeous, but stunning and dramatic and sensually, unapologetically sexy. So, of course, when Dancing With The Stars first aired I KNEW I was going to tune in. It called to me.

And then I watched Kelly Monaco grow, improve and win...only to have that wussy, pansyass John O'Hurley whine and cry foul and beg for a re-match. What a joke. I'm guessing he was never taught about what consists of unsportsmanlike conduct...or class. And adding insult to injury, Kelly wound up losing the re-match. That was season one. Which had me saying I wouldn't watch again next year.

Then they announced the players...and Stacy Keibler, Lisa Rinna, and Jerry Rice...and I say to myself...this should be GOOD! And I tune in. I fall in love all over again. And I cheer Stacy on...only to find her lose in the last round because she showed herself to be so good from the beginning that the judges expected "more" of her in the final dance. Bull crap. Especially with how long losers like Master P got to stay in because of his fan base...even with his blatant lack of respect and effort. Or the fact that Jerry Rice, although okay, didn't deserve to be in the final three...and I watched more talented dancers get knocked out simply because of his star power. And I found myself once again saying that I wouldn't be watching next year.

Until they announced that Emmitt Smith was going to be competing this year. I'm a HUGE Emmitt Smith fan. And an even BIGGER Cowboys fan. So I thought I'd check it out...and pray that he didn't look nearly as stiff as Jerry. Imagine my surprise and enjoyment to find that Emmitt had some style...AND rhythm...and that he knew how to play the crowd. And he had some good competition in Joey Lawrence and Mario Lopez... Against all protests...I'm once again drawn in.

I should have known better and followed my own advice..."Never say never..."

In Threes...

They say they come in threes... People dying. The thought has had me holding my breath. Grandma Plass passed on a few weeks ago, Grandpa has been ill, and he's not a spring chicken anymore...so..I've been concerned...and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I didn't want to think it, but I've been through a lot of loss in my life, so I realize it's just another part of the cycle. I'm able to be realistic about it, but it doesn't change that wish that maybe...just this once...things wouldn't have to be this hard.

And then I got the phone call. My sister called to tell me that my grandma was in the hospital. Now my grandma has a history of diabetes and heart issues. But she'd been doing pretty well. Somehow she must have fallen or something, because they took her into the ER complaining of pain on top of all her other issues. It turned out that she had a fractured Thoracic vertebra. Unfortunately it wasn't going to heal...and it would degenerate...pushing downward on her spinal column...eventually paralyzing her and leaving her in a lot of pain.

A decision had to be made. Do we put her on morphine to ease her pain? If we put her on morphine, are we ready to accept the consequences? The results would be that it would negatively impact all the meds she's taking for her heart and the rest....meaning that if we put her on the morphine, she'd be declining and eventually die...but she'd die painlessly, rather than live longer, but in more pain and paralyzed. So the family had a meeting and the decision was made. We took her off support, put her on morphine, and moved her to hospice.

The first day or two she did really well, and it looked as though she was going to be lingering for a while. But then the last few days she took a drastic decline...until this morning when my sister was visiting her and she woke up...grabbed her face, kissed her...and said "I love you, Christina." And then..."See you next time."

And this is the first time in about a week that she's been lucid. And she appears to be rallying...which strongly suggests to me that she's coming back to say goodbye and give everyone closure. In my gut, in my bones, I know that's exactly what this is. It weighs on me, making me wish I could be there...to say good bye...to let her know how much I love her. To make sure she realizes that I know that if it weren't for her I'd never have had a chance to know my dad's side of my family. That I appreciated her standing up for us, and fighting for us...even with my indifferent father. And yet I'm not able to be there. I have responsibilities here...and we don't know how long she has...and I need to be there for her funeral. So I'm torn up on the inside, aching...hoping and praying she knows just how much I absolutely adore her. She was the softest...gentlest...most loving anchor to the family. I'll be just a bit more devastated when she's gone...

I'm so grateful that she loved me... I'll always love her.

A Petty Bit Of Venom

I'm a die hard Cowboy fan. They were the first team I saw when I moved back to this country. I'm also a rabid sports fan...my favorite sport being football. I was absolutely thrilled to find out that the 'Boys were actually gonna be playing in Florida this year. On opening day in Jacksonville. Awesome. My roommate and I decided immediately that we HAD to get tickets and make the drive to see the game. The drive was over 4 hours, so we figured we'd get a hotel room.

As we made our plans, my next door neighbor chimed in that he'd like to go to the game and bring his girlfriend. Not such a big deal...he doesn't really follow sports, barely follows pro-football, and the only football he even half way knows (and I used that term lightly) it would be collegiate because he's a Gators fan.

To better understand my irritation I should probably elaborate. This is an example of how clueless he is about pro ball.

Him: What's that yellow line on the field out there?
Me: What yellow line?
Him: That one that goes across the field.
Me: (walks to the screen and points at the first down marker) You mean this?
Him: Yeah.
Me: That's the first down marker so that you know how far your team has left to go.
Him: Wow! Those guys paint it there awfully fast! How do they wash it away so quickly?

So I spent time explaining to him that it only appears on TV so that the fans at home can follow and that there isn't an actual yellow line that goes across the field.

Anyway, so we agree to go with him and his girlfriend. And the other neighbor guy gets in on the action despite being a Rams fan. We discuss getting 2 hotel rooms or 1 suite with 2 big beds and a sleeper sofa and booking the room for two nights. We decide to go with 2 nights so that we're not rushed. The initial idea was that we'd get to Jax early, hence the hotel, giving us time to relax and goof off. And we'd stay the night after the game so that we wouldn't have a long drive immediately following.

And this was planned MONTHS ago. So, of course, since it's not as important to THEM, this is what happens. Both guys wind up working. Neither bother to get the time off. The Rams fan has his own business and could've planned around it. The other guy...he says he's got a couple of jobs to do. So instead of leaving at 2 or 3 like roomie and I wanted, we wind up leaving after 6...which meant we got here after 11. Without having had supper. And I was fuming. It was inconsiderate of them. Had we known they were gonna pull this crap, we could've left on our own and met them here. Even more irritating is that the neighbor guy and his girlfriend haven't paid for their tickets or share of the hotel yet. And I know if this had been important to them, nothing would've kept them away. Worse, we HAD to wait for them because if we hadn't...they just wouldn't have bothered coming...and we would've been out the few hundred dollars, etc.

So I was already irritated about that, right? What else could piss me off? The fact that this guy decides to "be" a Jags fan today. Of all days. Not because he knows anything. Simply because he used to live in the area as a child. And then he was sitting there trying to act and talk like he knew what he was speaking about. It took quite a bit to hold myself back from making a fool of him and proving just how little he knows of football. And he was getting arrogant like he had a right because a team he suddenly claimed was winning. There we die hards were in the rain, cheering our team, and he was rubbing our noses in the fact that our team was losing to "his team"... As if!

I'll say this much...Going forward, he can decide to go to his own damned games. Because he really is clueless...and his disrespect was grating. And no, I'm not reacting that way because we lost. We deserved to lose with the shitty way we played. I'm saying this because I didn't appreciate his arrogant attitude and his flaunting a game his team was winning although he couldn't, not in a million years, explain how. I could've accentuated to the world what an ass he was, but I didn't. I behaved.

But I'm not inviting him to a football game again.

It's In The Rain

Tonight it's raining out, and it's got me restless, wreckless. It's always done this to me...the rain. The tap, tap, taping against my window pane, the light howl of the wind, the way the lightening cuts across the sky. It's always seduced me. Even before I understood just what it meant...the way I reacted.

When I was younger it was great for drifting off into my own little fantasy world...opening my mind to daydreams, to stories. I loved curling up in bed, letting my imagination soar into whatever book I was reading...or whatever story I was creating in my head. The rain was a comfort, a friend. It opened me up to endless possibilities. I was just a little bit more bold when it rained. And when I'd finally drift off...it was the most relaxing sleep.

And as I got older I noticed...the rain gave me that itchy, twitchy feeling...a different kind of restlessness. I'd ache for something I wasn't quite sure I fully understood. Until Shawn. Don't get me wrong...I wasn't naive. I've never been naive where boys were concerned. If anything, I was all too aware. I noticed that my "gentleman callers" called a bit more frequently and kept me on the phone a bit longer when it rained. Where I was a natural flirt, when it rained I was downright uninhibited. I was open to whatever you wanted to talk about. And they loved it.

And yet it was Shawn that drew me out. I still remember...he'd moved away by then. I missed him. He got me on a level that no one else came close to. Then or now. So his moving away affected me. And I looked forward to those days when he'd come back to visit. They were few, but priceless moments to me. On that day I was coming home from work...it was misting out...and I was walking through the courtyard of our apartment complex to my apartment when I saw him. Standing in the mist...near my door...in his jeans and black trenchcoat. Looking at me. It had only been months since I'd last seen him. How was it possible he'd gotten so tall? He towered over me.

God, there was nothing that got to me quite the same way that quiet, shy smile did when it lit up his face. Knowing that I'd put that gleam in his emerald eyes. Knowing that look was all for me. That was powerful. And then he opened his arms to me...that's all it took. Pulling me into that welcoming hug...hearing the comfort of his heart beat, seeing that mischevious gleam in his eyes. I missed him. I knew he'd only be mine for a few hours...but I asked anyway.

So we went for a walk around town...the way we used to when he lived there. Hand in hand, his arm around me. He asked me if I was sure...it was starting to rain. I looked up at him and knew. I was sure. I wanted nothing more than to kiss this boy in the rain. So he took my hand. We walked. The mist built slowly into drops...cool against our skin. I still remember what I was wearing. A T-shirt and jeans and sneakers. As the strength of the downpour grew, the cooler it got. He pulled me into his side...sharing his trench with me. He felt me shiver, turned and pulled me flush against his chest...warming me with him, wrapping us up in his coat. The rain continued to drip down our faces, we just smiled...he kept me warm...and then he kissed me. There in the rain, he kissed me. And if my heart hadn't already belonged to him...I'd have lost it again. Right there. In that moment. Nothing ever felt sexier to me than kissing him in that cool Chicago spring rain.

Now as an adult, so many things have changed. I've lost touch with Shawn, but never with that memory. Thoughts of him still make me smile. And now, it never fails, rain entices me and seduces me. There's not much that's sexier to me than the rain. And it doesn't matter how much time has passed...for me, Shawn and rainy days are indellibly intertwined.

Celebrate Life

This picture was taken a couple of months ago. It was Grandma and Grandpa's 60th Anniversary celebration. I was fortunate enough to be a part of it. I got to give her a hug and kiss and tell her I loved her. She looked damned good for 92...and grandpa kept going on and on about how he caught himself an older woman.. He's 90. I got to hear stories about their wedding day...the double wedding with her cousin. I got to see her cake topper. She still had it after all these years. Her love for her family unshakeable. Her pride in her kids and grandchildren evident. And I was lucky enough to be a part of her life.

Time changes so quickly. People come and go. And although I'll miss her...and a part of me is sad...there's another part that's grateful. She lived a full life, a happy one...not to mention a long one. Would that I'll be able to do it half as well as she did.

The memorial is set for the 20th. I'll be headed back home to be there for it. I don't wonder if I'll have the strength...I know I will. And I know I can celebrate her life, and be happy she's not suffering. I can get through anything. I always do. I'm tough...but sometimes I wish I was just a bit weaker. I wish I had it in me to cry like a baby and be selfish. Just this once. But I know I won't. It would dishonor her. And it's just not me. But yeah, sometimes...sometimes I wish.

And Still...

She was in her nineties. She'd had a good life...a long life. She'd seen her sixtieth wedding anniversary. Logically I know all this. Logically I appreciate all this.

But emotionally...my heart is a bit torn.

I'm a bit shell shocked...bewildered. A few weeks ago, Grandma P had a heart attack. They said it was pretty severe. They took her off her intubation...and she got BETTER! She was always the fighter. Quietly supportive. Vocally hilarious...filled with stories of family and old days. She didn't understand words like political correctness. She just said what she thought. She loved her family...even those of us who she gained through marriage. She was thrilled when her son married my mom...and accepted us with open arms. More grand kids to love. She always made us feel as though we were hers...as much as anyone related by blood. She always had a hug and a kiss and a story made to make you roar with laughter about her crazy escapades.

And now, suddenly, she's gone.

And the world just seems a bit darker for it.