June 28

so the downside first - Grammy is still in the hospital. She got moved once - no explanation from the medical staff.... and is now in a rehab/nursing home so she can get her strength back. Come to find out she lost 2 quarts of blood, so she's still really weak. Aunt Sally called me and basically said unless I told her that I was on her side, that she was going to commit suicide and then we could all talk about her all we wanted. "I have to get home, I have a house that must be tended to!" Did not have the heart to tell her that her house has been WAY tended too already. My aunt and uncle didnt' feel it necessary to tell my cousin Mark that Grammy is in the hospital, I am really pissed about that. Suffice to say he knows now.
Now the trip to Maine. Phoenomenal. Great to get away. small sunburn, but I finally have some color, which always makes you feel better, doesn't it? Ironic. "Ah poor AJ she died of advanced skin cancer." "Well, at least she looks good, she went with color. " The tip cookoff was awesome - I won thanks in no small part to Sharrie and Bobbys AWESOME Big O BBQ sauce. We were in the pool all day except during the wicked awesome thunderstorm. Derek and Debbie have 3 German Sheperds, who were really cute. Adorable 11 year old named Demi, whom I now adore. After the BQ on Sunday we decided not to go home and stayed over in the Super 8 in Sanford, near Wells. We got up yesterday and went strawberry picking, went to Kennebunkport, saw Bush's estate - turns out former Pres Clinton and the senior Bush were out sailing - right when we were there and we didn't even know it! Really cool. Walked all around - had a wonderful time. Ate a lobster salad sandwich that was incredible. Then home to go right back out and meet up with Dianne and Kimmer for dinner at Fajitas and Ritas. Yum! Hoem to apply lotion and collapse. :)

Another weekend is upon us

And I have a three day weekend! Joy and Rapture!
Tomorrow is the baby shower for Kacie, and Rob and I are leaving from there to motor north to Derek's in Maine. We're staying over and sitting poolside on Sunday (HEAVEN!) before heading back on late sunday early Monday. It's the middle of nowhere - 2 1/2 hour drive from here.
I have Monday off, and my only plan is to meet up with the Pallys for dinner around 6 PM It's "gonna be a scorcha here" this weekend, so the next time I write I may well have a little sunburn. Grammy is still in the hospital - she got really combative and all confused. Poor Grammy.

Good Bad Worse

Bad: You can't find your vibrator. Worse: Your daughter "borrowed" it.
Bad: You find a porn movie in your son's room. Worse: You're in it.
Bad: Your children are sexually active. Worse: With each other.
Bad: Your husband's a crossdresser. Worse: He looks better than you.
Bad: Your son's involved in Satanism. Worse: As a sacrifice.
Bad: Your wife wants a divorce. Worse: She's a lawyer.
Bad: Your wife's leaving you. Worse: For another woman.
Bad: Your wife's leaving you. Worse: To enter a convent.
Bad: Your wife's arrested for soliciting. Worse: She implicates you.
Good: Hot outdoor sex. Bad: You're arrested. Worse: By your husband.
Good: The postman's early. Bad: He's wearing camos and has an AK-47.
Good: The secretary said "yes." Bad: Your wife says "no."
Good: The teacher likes your son. Bad: Sexually. Worse: He's gay.
Good: You came home for a quickie. Bad: So did the postman.
Good: You came home for a quickie. Bad: Your wife walks in.
Good: You get a three-day weekend. Bad: You get the flu on Friday.
Good: You get tickets to the theatre. Bad: It's performance art.
Good: You go to see a strip show. Bad: Your daughter's the headliner.
Good: Your boyfriend's exercising. Bad: So he'll fit in your clothes.
Good: Your car conveniently "runs out of gas." Bad: For real.
Good: Your child's "waiting for Mr. Right". Bad: Your son, that is.
Good: Your daughter's on the Pill. Bad: She's eleven.
Good: Your neighbor exercises in the nude. Bad: She weighs 350 pounds.
Good: Your son's doing extra credit work. Bad: Making a sex ed video.
Good: Your uncle leaves you a fortune. Bad: It's counterfeit.
Good: Your wife bought a porn video. Bad: Your daughter's the star.
Good: Your wife likes outdoor sex. Bad: You live downtown Boston.
Good: Your wife meets you at the door nude. Bad: She's coming home.
Good: Your wife's kinky. Bad: With the neighbors. Worse: All of them.

June 22

Well I got a call from my mom that my grandmother was taken to Emerson Hospital - apparently they went to test her blood levels this morning - she was still in bed - and she started coughing and got a nosebleed which wouldn't stop so they took her by ambulance to the hospital. I have a strange feeling about all this.
Mom just called to say that she is OK - she was afraid to go home in case it happened again so she is admitted overnight. She's dehydrated (she forgets to drink and eat sometimes) and still dizzy but apparently she broke a blood vessel in her nose - which happens really easily with older folks - the vessels are so thin they can be broken with just a turn over in bed. She's also on Coumadin, which is a blood thinner which just turns any cut into a faucet. Her BP was 122/65 - which is phoenomenal for a 93 year old.
On top of all that, I went to Babies R Us this morning to get diaper pins for my cousin's wifes baby shower on Saturday. I was cooing over a baby and this woman asked when I was due. I know she was just trying to be nice but it really bothered me. Rob was stunned at the comment and was trying so hard to get me out of the store before I lost it. I think sometimes he really regrets my not being able to have kids, but he'd staple his lips shut before he admitted it to me. Anyway, I ended up getting the jolly jumper thing for mom and she can pay me back, as well as really cute wrist rattles and diaper pins.
Going in that store (Babies R Us) is starting to bother me more than I care to actually mention. I haven't really grieved in quite some time for the loss of ability to have a child, but boy when it rears it's head...yikes. I thought I had come to terms with it, I guess I hadn't. Part of the downside of dating a younger man who, though he doesnt want to admit it, has children on the back of his brain. Usually I can get a "fix" of hanging with a baby and I'm OK, but this is really bothering me. I don't know maybe it's just that I was already worried and on edge from Grammy.
I told Rob that I was getting tired of planning other people's showers. He initially said I was in the wrong line of work - as I love to do wedding shower and party planning. Then I came right out and said it - "NO! You don't get it! I want my own shower. I want to be the one in the spotlight, getting the cool gifts and having people oohh and ahh over what I picked out." He was taken aback just a little, but he said he does understand. Have I pushed him too far? I worry about that sometimes. For fucks' sake I am going to be 39. I know I'm not going to be a blushing bride but come on already. Shit or get off the pot. Damn Am I brutal today, or what?!

man speak

This is so borrowed, but so funny.

THINGS MEN WILL NEVER SAY:
1. I think Barry Manilow is one cool motherfucker.
2. No, I don't want another beer. I have to work tomorrow.
3. Her tits are just way too big.
4. Sometimes I just want to be held.
5. That Rosie O'Donnell chick gives me a boner.
6. Sure! I'd love to wear a condom.
7. We haven't been to the mall in ages, let's go shop and I'll carry your purse.
8. Screw Monday Night Football, let's watch "Ally McBeal".
9. It's late. Put your clothes back on and I'll take you home.
10. Honey, I'm going to the store, do you need more tampons?
11. I know you just blew me, but I need a kiss.
12. I'm sick of beer, give me a fruit juice with a lemon twist.
13. Great, your mother's coming to stay with us again.
14. I wonder if my gorgeous neighbor knows that her drapes are open when she's getting ready for bed? Maybe I should tell her.
15. No way, you weeded the garden last week. It's my turn.
16. Better get rid of these old Penthouse magazines. I don't look at them anymore.
17. I understand.
18. This movie has way too much nudity.
19. Damn, we're late for church!
20. No! I don't want to see your sister's new tits.
21. Damn these onions, pass me a tissue.
22. Put some panties on for Christ's sake.
23. Eat something!! You are starting to look like a Victoria's Secret model!!
24. Don't pick that up, I got it.
25. Happy Anniversary!!!
26. Hey, isn't today your mothers birthday?
27. Let's talk, I miss talking.
28. Gay men have rights too!
29. I am just too tired to have sex again today!
30. Are you losing weight, sweetie?

balls

I truly believe when someone cooks a wonderful dish, one that they enjoy making and that tastes good, they should be commended. To that end, there's Sharrie's hubby who in addition to mouthwatering BBQ makes the most wonderful Italian meatballs. I enjoy comparing recipes, and am known in my circle of friends for sweet and sour meatballs. Given that I like to brag about my favorite recipes, there's no reason why I should not compliment someone else on theirs. Shout it to the highest hills, even. Here are some compliments I bestowed recently. Feel free to share them with your favorite meatball chef.

Some balls are rather dry, I like my balls to be moist. Your balls are nice and moist.
I love when balls are sweet rather than salty.
Great flavor in those balls.
Wow, I love the sauce on your balls.
Your balls are juicy and meaty.
I love the way your balls feel in my mouth.
I can't wait to get my lips around your balls.
I like when balls have good spice.
I like to nibble on some really good balls.
I prefer my balls warm, not really cold or really hot.

Side note - my uncle is also known for making meatballs. But somehow saying, "God I can't wait to taste my uncle's balls" just seems so wrong? Dontcha think? Ya not so much.

super human powers

So a great time was had up at Sharrie's on Saturday. Great food, awesome actually...! Quotes and movie lines were flung about like so much confetti. Fabulous (lethal) punch was served. We laughed so hard I almost threw up. At one point late in the evening someone pointed out a spider on the ceiling. Rob immediately went and stood under it and asked it if it was radioactive and could give him super powers. I commented back that not even a succubus could do that. I heard a snorting sound and there's Sharrie bent over the counter laughing so hard there is no air, only snorting sounds. Her legs were crossed. I think she might have peed herself laughing. The whole way home, Rob was asking what a succubus was. I thought maybe it was a female vampire. Boy was I surprised:
In medieval legend, a 'succubus' (plural succubi; from Latin succubare, "to lie under") is a female demon which comes to men, especially monks, in their dreams to seduce them and have sexual intercourse with them, drawing energy from the men to sustain themselves, often until the point of exhaustion or death. This legend was an explanation for the phenomena of wet dreams and sleep paralysis. Lilith and the Lilin ( Jewish), Belili ( Sumerian) and Rusalka ( Slavic) were succubi.
Incubus and Succubus: In medieval lore, a succubus was a female spirit that would lay with men to steal their seed: it was given as an explanation of night arrousal and wet dreams. It was also paired with the incubus, the male form, sometimes transforming between the two forms to pass along the stolen seed to unknowing women. In later stories, especially in contemporary horror writing, both would be given hypnotic powers that would give them the ability to command and compell members of the opposite sex.
A lewd female demon or goblin which takes on the illusory appearance of a female human being and seeks sexual intercourse with men, usually while they are asleep. The princess of all the succubi (plural) is Nahemah. Its male counterpart is called Incubus. A semi-human offspring is called Cambion.
According to the view of most medieval theologians, incubi outnumbered succubi by nine to one, but the ladies made up in menace for what they lacked in numbers by being alluring and persuasive, using their considerable charms to seduce men and lead them to eternal damnation.
The succubus is a demon from legend that supposedly preys on mortal men while he sleeps; a sexual vampire of sorts. The actual name has its origins from late Latin- succuba meaning prostitute, which in turn comes from medieval Latin sub cubaire meaning 'that which lies beneath'. The male version is the incubus (from Latin- 'that which lies above'). There are some sources who claim that the succubus and the incubus are one and the same creature who can change form at will to prey on mortals.
In medieval times, the succubus was seen as a fearsome creature who killed her victims by drinking their breath. This is interesting in that, at the time, the breath was seen as a part of the person's spirit, and in doing so, the succubus was thought to be stealing the victim's soul. Later, the habits of the succubus were deemed to of a more sexual than vampiric nature, and this notion probably arose from the change in social climate that saw sexual deviancy as a mortal sin, and so, those who committed such a sin against God, were deserving of their fate in some way.
I never got this memo. How the hell do I add this in a professional way to my resume ? :)

gearing up for the weekend

Father's Day is almost upon us. Which means spending time with Dad, right? WRONG. For us it means running hither and yon to see both my dad and his dad. But it's all good. The weekend's festivities actually begin today - tonight when Rob picks me up at work to go up to Sharrie's house for a BBQ party for her husband as well as her younger daughter, Sheridyn. Good friends, plenty of booze, and I'm sure lots of wonderful food. (I hope they save me a rib!) From there, we go back to Rob's place (he lives with his folks) and stay over there.
Staying over with a boyfriend at his parents place is always a little weird to me. Maybe it's just different for boys and girls... but I can't see my parents being cool with a guy staying over with me. Of course we're both adults, but I don't know. There's still a little bit of high school gal in me, I suppose. Anyway I digress.
We are planning a breakfast with his dad and grandpa, so Rob's doing the gorcery shopping for that this afternoon. Armed with a list ("buy 2 each of the following muffins....get bacon....can you look for par boiled potatoes in the cold deli section?") he will endeavor to get breakfast items. Then it's on to Lexington to visit my Bumpa (my grandfather) and then onto Arlington for a BBQ. (I came to work today complete with a cooler, which contains NY strip steaks and other delicious items) Mom's making strawberry shortcake. YUM.
Let me talk for a second about Dad's gift. My father only wears one type of cologne - Jovan Musk for Men in a hideous orange container. ("Hello the 1970's called, they want their cologne back!") He is panic stricken that they are going to stop selling it (I think he's the only guy who wears it), so in the drawer of his bureau there are **********7*********** bottles, and 3 containers of Jovan deoderant. After looking on eBay ( a new addiction for me) I found Jovan shave cream! He is going to be so excited! I also found Jovan body wash - shower gel, but that's coming from England and jsut will nto make it here in time. Oh well. He'll get a little extra gift after the fact. Mom said that he needed cargo shorts, so she got them for me which is really cool. Should be a fun day. To be honest I cannot wait for the day when I can be in a home and everyone comes to ME instead of running around trying to please everyone on both sides. All part of being in a relationship, I guess. Hey, it could be a lot worse. I'm not complaining.

sunburn

So my most beloved boyfriend went on Sunday to a ribfest with his buddies. To drink beer, eat pork, and then watch wrestling (insert Tim the Toolman Taylor grunting noises here) We stopped on the way to him dropping me off to get him some sunblock. I bought him 45 SPF. He applied it. Once. And never again. Hence he has the impression of a wife beater, in pale white skin, outlined with red. "Ow, I have to go home. Ow. I have to leave work early" "Why, what's wrong?" "Weren't you listening? I have a sunburn." Oh dear God. A sunburn. I feel like a heartless bitch sometimes but if the future of the human race was dependent on him having children - plan on us dying out rather quickly. And he gets so mad if I say that he exaggerates. "You're a hypochondriac." "Uh no - no I'm not I just have alot of serious ailments." Good god. So last night was spent with him moaning and making sure I was watching him as he winced and moaned. Then came the application of aloe and lotion. That was a wincing extreme. And then, the kicker: "Make sure you really apply the lotion well to my tattoo. I am nervous about losing the color." So I apply lotion. "Jesus, why are you applying so much?" I give up. Like I've said before, I love him to the extreme, but sometimes....

Sunday

So I decided that I would go down to my aunts and contribute towards the cleaning of her home. Both my auncle and mom were unavailable this weekend, and Rob was planning a guys day - going to a ribfest and then watching a pay per view ECW wrestling thing - so I decided to save myself getting some skin cancer (I thought about going to the beach by myself) and go to Sallys instead. It felt a little creepy to be there alone, but mostly because she has not passed. It was way different going to Aunt Marge's after she died. Anyway, I got there and just walked through the place, to see what had been done thus far, and what remained. Lots of work had been done in her bedroom, soiled clothes that had been stuffed into plastic bags was removed...stained clothing removed, bed stripped down... all that good stuff which so contributed to the odor. Anyway I decided to tackle the den which was piled high with paper - all kinds of paper. Bills, statements, grocery receipts, journal notes, birthday cards, blank cards, grocery lists, some old, some new all mixed up. As I was sitting at the desk, several times I thought I noticed movement out of my eye but when I looked up there was nothing. Very strange, but I thought little of it. Then the lights in the hallway began to flicker, very randomly and faintly. I continued working. I began to feel the strangest feeling, like there was someone in the doorway. I walked up the hall, checked the doors..of course all was fine. Walking back to the den, I had the oddest sensation. Not evil, not cold, but...confused. As if I was being questioned why I was there, and what was my purpose. Very unsettling, nonetheless. I continued plugging along at my task, and managed to clean off the entire desk, the TV stand, and the card table, all loaded with paperwork. It's such a shame - she has such lovely things in her home - but many have been so neglected that they may well be unable to be repaired or restored. I went into the 2nd bedroom - which was her mother's room - as my mom asked me to search through a cedar chest for her. Going in the room is like stepping in a time capsule. I sat on the rug and opened the chest to find hundreds of coins, silver dollars, half dollars, silver dimes, really old pennies, buffalo nickels, all sorted and stored in little boxes. I felt something brush my hair, several times, and then I felt a pressure on my shoulder, not pain, but a slight warmth. I decided at that point that I had looked at the coins long enough. I finished up and headed out shortly thereafter. Once I got home, and took a bath, I called my mom to update her as to what had gone on, and asked if my great grandmother had died in the house. Mom did not remember, but she thought maybe she had. Apparently she had been quite ill and was in and out of the hospital. She did, however, tell me that my aunt's husband, Joe, who I had never met, had in fact died in the home - in the breezeway actually- of a massive heart attack. Explains a heck of a lot.

Air...

Such a wonderful thing, air. We need it to breathe. But let's discuss the wind that moves, or breaks. I bring this up in the true spirit of humor. Everybody.Passes. Gas. My least favorite time of a relationship is when you cannot pass gas. At all. It's uncomfortable and quite frankly it's stupid. We all do it. So let's just admit it and move on. When someone says "Phew! Was that you?" Say yes. Hold your head up high. Old folks do not apologize for breaking wind. They just do it, and are unashamed. Now I am not saying to ignore a really smelly one. One came my way the other night - and not from me mind you - and it woke me out of a sound sleep. "The kind of fart that could end a marriage" in the words of George Carlin. Wow. Thank God for my Bath and Body Works addiction so I could spray. Which really doesn't help - just makes fruity minty or citrusy smelling gas. That's when you know it's love, when you can break wind in front of one another without A turning purple with embarassment B not apologizing and C having your fart rated on a 1-5 scale for sound quality, butt rippling capability, and similarity in tone to a popular song.
Like a really good fart, that felt good to let it all out. Thanks.

June 10

Well not much has gone on this week - aside from the fact that I've been working my ass off at work. I've received a "promotion" of sorts - and I am eternally grateful for the opportunity. Bascially we have a potential new client for whom we are doing "trial" calls. And the "powers that be" selected myself and two other co-workers (whom I adore) to be part of this trial. Very exciting! The requests themselves have been fairly simple, but the follow-up has been... intense. Lots of spotlight time, the calls are recorded, and I've never done this. So I'm nervous as hell, but excited all at the same time.
Had to reschedule Pally night with Kimmer and Di, which was a real bummer because we havent seen eachother in awhile, but it was, after all, just a dinner with my Pallys, not a birthday or anniversary.
Aunt Sally has finally been moved into a nursing home but of course there's been drama associated with that as well. First she refused to go, then my mom and uncle got temporary guardianship, then a judge decided she was no longer deemed and elder at risk because she was in a nursing home and she was served papers which she now had to sign appointing Mom and Unk her guardians. Getting her to agree to sign that will be like... getting a heavy metal band to wear ballet tutus.....like getting Hitler to be invited to a Seder.....name your own impossible challenge. Jesus, I stand a better chance of giving birth next week and I am without uterus.

OUCH

I have a very dear friend Sharrie who wrote at length recently about "summer shaving" and Gold Bond powder being a deadly combination. I've copied it in it's entirety as it's REALLY funny:
"Holy crap. To put things as delicately as possible.. I recently did my 'summer shave' and inevitebly became uh... itchy a few days later from the stubble growing in. This always happens the first few times. I usually just use a little powder and all is well. Because I have an almost 2 year old who is addicted to powder and the throwing of such powder (so much so that she has encrusted total rooms in a layer of powder), we are out of my normal supply of Johnson's and Johnson's lavender cornstarch powder. So when my mom had moved out, she left a bottle of Gold Bond Medicated Powder in her bathroom (which is now my bathroom), and I spotted it on the shelf. I shrugged my shoulders and tossed some in my nether regions after a shower. I dressed and then laid down in bed to watch some tv. And then all hell broke loose in my pants
This stuff gets like, HOT. It must be the "medication" in it, I'm guessing is like camphor or something that gives that "cooling sorta scorching" feeling like IcyHot or BenGay. Yes, that is what this is. BenGay for your crotch. Holy christ. I lay there watching TV not wanting my hub to think I was a total dipshit and just sort of put on a slow burn, if you will. At one point, I think I may have felt a drop of sweat on my brow. But I can't confirm as the sensation of having my lo-lo on fire has scorged my memory. After about ten minutes (or it could have been two-when your lo lo is on fire, you tend to think that time has no true meaning) it subsided to a dull heat and actually felt fairly good. I think that probably that was the endorphines kicking in, causing me to be able to handle the pain better, but I digress. The one thing I do know.... the itching didn't bother me any more. Mission accomplished! Hooray for fucking Gold Burn..er I mean Bond Medicated Powder."
This is quite possibly one of the funniest things I have ever read.
Now I knew this had happened, like over a week ago. I read it with tears streaming down my face. So what do I do the other day? My own "summer shave". No problem. Here's where the "dipshit" part comes in. I have an addiction. It's name is Bath and Body Works. They have this True Blue Spa Line called Island Getaway. One of the products is "Need a Margarita" - a citrus sugar scrub. What makes it "scrub" is huge grains of salt. Into the shower la la la Open up the scrub la la la Smells wonderful! Citrusy, delicious. Apply the scrub to arms no problem... tummy no problem. Down to "there". On freshly shaved skin. Applying ROCK SALT paste. To. The. Groin. Owwwwwwwwwwwwww! It burns! It stings! It is a paste and will not wash right off! Dance around the shower trying to get as much of my lo-lo in the stream of water as I can. Almost fall. Slip! Bang my elbow. Swear really loud. Curse every employee of Bath and Body Works, and their offspring. Alphabetically. Fuckers. Now my skin is exfoliated, my lo-lo is throbbing and burning - and not in a good way - my elbow hurts and I smell like a lime.
I love my life.

Family Pride

www.mollybeckferguson.com - My cousin Molly - the very talented actress and singer. Perhaps you've seen her in the Angel Soft Commercials? http://angelsoft.com/bathroommoments/votesweeps.html her moment was titled "scale"

www.shapeshifterstudios.net - My cousin Charlene who is an amazing artist. Fantasy art, wild use of color and texture - truly gifted.

Funny stuff

I was looking for quotes from popular TV shows in the 60's and I found this gem:

"Robin: When you think, Batman, with those four supercrooks hangin' around, it's amazing somebody hasn't already reported this place to the police!
Batman: It's a low neighborhood, full of rumpots. They're used to curious sights, which they attribute to alcoholic delusions.
Robin: Gosh, drink is sure a filthy thing, isn't it? I'd rather be dead than unable to trust my own eyes!
Batman: They may be drinkers, Robin, but they're still human beings. "

Little known trivia facts:
Every single hamster in the U.S. today comes from a single litter captured in Syria in 1930.
The United States has never lost a war in which mules were used.
The reason firehouses have circular stairways is from the days of old when the engines were pulled by horses. The horses were stabled on the ground floor and figured out how to walk up straight staircases.
In the Caribbean there are oysters that can climb trees.
Emus and kangaroos cannot walk backwards, and are on the Australian coat of arms for that reason.
It was discovered on a space mission that a frog can throw up. The frog throws up it's stomach first, so the stomach is dangling out of it's mouth. Then the frog uses its forearms to dig out all of the stomach's contents and then swallows the stomach back down again.
"Evaluation and Parameterization of Stability and Safety Performance Characteristics of Two and Three Wheeled Vehicular Toys for Riding." Title of a $230,000 research project proposed by the Department of Health, Education and Welfare, to study the various ways children fall off bicycles.
Chewing gum while peeling onions will keep you from crying.
Non-dairy creamer is flammable.
There is a town in Newfoundland, Canada called Dildo.
The Boston University Bridge (on Commonwealth Avenue, Boston, Massachusetts) is the only place in the world where a boat can sail under a train driving under a car driving under an airplane.
Los Angeles' full name is 'El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina de los Angeles de Porciuncula' and can be abbreviated to 3.63% of its size, 'L.A.'.
The world's youngest parents were 8 and 9 and lived in China in 1910.
The Main Library at Indiana University sinks over an inch every year because when it was built, engineers failed to take into account the weight of all the books that would occupy the building.
More people die annually from donkeys than plane crashes
Only 6 people in the whole world have died from moshing.
You have a better chance of getting struck by lightning twice a year for the rest of your life than you do winning The Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.
If everyone China lined up infront of you and you started walking past, you would never see the end due to their reproductive rate.
The first contraceptive was crocodile dung used by the ancient Egyptians.
Lime Jell-o gives off the same brain waves as adult males (true!)
The national anthem of Greece has 158 verses. No one in Greece has memorized all 158 verses.
The longest one-syllable word in the English language is screeched.

Rob

How can I possibly put my feelings into words about Rob? Never has a man made me laugh so hard, cry so much, share so much, and fall so deeply in love. In one moment he infuriates me to my last nerve, and in the next moment I am a starry eyed swooning teenager. When we first started, the road was rocky, to say the least. We worked together at Cross Country (the only good thing I got out of that job was meeting him) and started out as friends. He was dating Dawn (whom I have renamed "she who shall not be named") and I was dating ....... - - - jesus who was I dating? Damn it's tough getting old. OH! I remember! Raven! Yep leave it to me to date a man who LEGALLY changes his name to Alucard - Dracula spelled backwards.
OK back on track.
Rob. So we would go to lunch, chat about relationships, friends who happened to be of the opposite sex. And then Christmas came, and with it the holiday party at work. Now I swear to God you will not believe me - but I asked Rob - as friends - if he wanted to go together and share a hotel room - to save money.......... Quit saying "yeah right you were hoping to get some!"!!! I am serious! See your reaction? thats just the reaction Rob had - although I was such a dingbat I didn't get it. So he agrees to go and we motor north to Burlington to attend the event. It's snowing, freezing cold - his heater doesnt work in his car - and we are running really late. We have like 10 minutes to get ready and get downstairs. I am flitting around getting dressed in front of him - totally treating him like one of my gay friends and forgetting that he has never seen me in underwear. He says he has something for me - and pulls out a corsage. Sheepishly he says "My mom says when you take a girl to a dance, you get her a corsage. It's good manners. ". This is three huge red roses with evergreen - a ginormously huge wrist thing which totally does not go with my dress at all. I wonder for a moment if we've reverted to high school, but then realize it is one of the sweetest gestures as I cannot remember the last time I got flowers at all. So down we go to the party which is in full swing. We sit with some of his work colleagues, one of whom is staring at me with daggers. WTF? I think until Rob leans over and says "oh yeah about her, well she sort of has a thing for me and I think she's mad that I didn't ask her." WONDERFUL. So the dance goes on we have a nice time then retire upstairs to our ** two bed** hotel room. As it turns out we did *sleep* in separate beds. So we start to casually date for a bit and then....I don't know I just wasn't feeling it..... Mark and I - who were roommates - start considering the possibility of dating. So being upfront, I tell Rob, who looks totally crestfallen but wishes us the best and gets us this big card for two great friends. Turns out Mark and I are not meant to be, so I'm back to being single and no Rob. Some times goes by and I am moving from Medford to Somerville. Haven't talked to Rob in like 6 months, maybe more. I have the old phone on for like a week while I finish up my move. Day the phone is being turned off at the old place I call for messages one last time - and lo and behold, there's one from Rob. So I call him back, and we agree to get together for a drink at my new place at the end of the week. When he gets to my place he is bearing roses - red roses, three of them as I recall. "You were always such a sweet girl", he says to me. So we begin dating. I meet his parents, whom I adore. He meets my gay friends, who grow very fond of him. He meets my family. I meet some of his, those whom he gets along with. We attend weddings, parties, social events. We are a bona fide couple. We even say the L word to one another. Still cautious creeping along. Friends and family start to drop hints about "our future". Rob panics, and we reluctantly agree to part ways as he has no idea when or if he will be ready for marriage and I am pretty much measuring myself for a veil. Worst week of my life not with him. He emails me to tell me how sorry he is and I call him. We agree to go to nuetral ground - the beach - and talk it all out, both of us a bit misty eyed. OK I was a blubbering idiot. And since that talk last year, we havent' been apart from eachother for more than 2 days. We talk every day - sometimes more than once. We always end our phone calls with "I love you". Even if we are angry. Somedays if the mood strikes him he mentions marriage as a "when" rather than an "if". Which is why the whole Phantom, strawberries and wine in the hotel thing (see May post) had my knees knocking so hard - I thought POW this was it. Not so much - but that's OK. He's not going anywhere, and neither am I.

A beautiful bright sunshiny day here in Boston. "The sun is shining, the tank is clean, THE TANK IS CLEAN!" ~Peach from Finding Nemo
I've just found out that My Aunt Sally - who is 94 - is being transferred to a nursing home tomorrow having been in the hospital for several days for "evaluation". I tell you - if I ever get to that point in life - just take me out. As in out back and shoot me. She is such an anachronism - the best way to describe her is she got to 1940 and stopped. As a young girl, I would be taken over to her home for luncheon, never lunch. Mind you this was with my polished Mary Janes, lace socks, pressed dress - and even gloves. It was an old lady house, even 30 years ago. No children's toys - nothing for a little girl to do but stare at a painting.
Let me clarify a bit - as this is one of my earliest memories. You would always enter through the front door, into the foyer and carefully wipe your feet. There was a short hallway in front of you which lead towards the kitchen and the living room to your left. To your right was the rest of the ranch style home. In the living room, there was a huge Oriental rug on top of which were austere looking pieces of furniture including a sage green couch, which was overstuffed in the back. As" children were to be seen and not heard", I would sit on this couch and brace myself with my arms to avoid sliding off. Sometimes I would bring a doll, but most times I just sat quietly. Over the back of this couch there was a painting, which I would stare at for what seemed like hours on end. I would make up stories about the painting which portrayed a man - with what looked like a Three Musketeers style hat- leaning forward on his knees and looking at a young baby whose arms were oustretched reaching towards him. In the foreground was a young woman. I dreamt that he was a pirate, meeting his daughter for the first time. A dashing rogue who could turn to mush on seeing a baby. If I thought about it hard enough, I could almost put myself in the picture - wearing a long dress of rustling material. (As one who believes a great deal in past lives this was not so hard to do!) It wasn't until several years ago that I finally told my aunt about my love for this painting. She was very surprised to learn this, as she thought "you youngsters didn't like things that were old." Are you kidding me? Aunt Sally has told me that when she is gone, the painting is mine as I love it so much. To seem less like a vulture, I commented back that I would be happy to have the painting come and visit my home when it was done visiting hers. She like that - alot. :)
I can also recall another visit where I wandered out in her backyard to look at the flowers. Not pick them, mind you - just look. I seem to recall that I had sandals on, and must have tracked in some sand from the backyard. She seemed to descend upon me, much like the Wicked Stepmother in Cinderella, with flashing eyes and a stern expression. "You wicked little girl just LOOK what you have done!" I don't remember if she suceeded, or just threatened, to spank me but I do remember being picked up and driven to my grandfather and grandmother's house. Now you must understand my grandfather was a HUGE man - size 13 shoes, over 6 feet tall with a shock of white hair who drove a small tank cleverly designed as a car. When my mother told him what had happened, he got in his tank (car) and drove from Lexington to Wellesley in 10 minutes, maybe less. Striding to her front door (mind you this is his sister in law) he told her if she EVER "touched his granddaughter again - she would answer to him. Was that clear?" Meekly, I am told she replied "yes".
Now that I am grown, her house is still magic - but unfortunately now one has to hold one's nose upon entering. She has let so much of it go... which is a true sin. My mom and uncle have tried nearly everything to get people in to help her- for my aunt is as stubborn as the day is long. She has fought them every step of the way but it seems there is an end in sight - in that she is being transferred. Now the true headache commences - cleaning out that house will be a full time job for many of the family. When all is said and done, my tiny apartment may just take on a new painting.

Grandparents....

As a young girl I took life pretty much for granted. I thought everyone lived as I did - with both sets of grandparents as well as a set of great grandparents. As I grew older and went to school, I was very surprised that my young peers had maybe one or two grandparents total. Yet today I still have one grandmother and one grandfather still with me on this earth. Having grown up with all of their insight and life experience has been one of the most important factors in who I am today, and I am profoundly grateful to all of them. My maternal grandfather was the first who's leaving affected me quite deeply. He fought a valiant fight against cancer, but when the end came, in a weird twist of irony ended up in the very same hospital where I worked at the time. I was in my early 20's at the time. Although you think you are ready you never are. And it is never as dramatic as movies and TV make it out to be. He was in ICU, stuggling for every breath. We were only able to go in the room for 10 minutes each hour. As I worked there, they bent the rules a bit for me, or maybe it was because they knew what was to happen, a fact I blinded myself to. I had fallen asleep in the waiting room, and my dad had left the hospital to go get coffee. My mom was in there alone, praying, talking to him, I am not sure. I was woken up by one of the nurses who said it was time. Walking hurriedly into the room, I heard alarms and dinging bells, the alarms signaling in a strange mechanical symphony that all was not well. My mother was holding his hand and crying. Walking with leaden feet, I approached him and looked down at him, but his eyes were looking elsewhere. I remember he smiled that little enigmatic smile of his and then looked away. "Look at the monitors!" my mom cried over and over. I watched the spiky lines draw closer together and begin to warp up and down with less intensity. And then, they just...stopped, and the indicator drew to a straight green line on the monitor. I heard a high pitched noise and really believed it was the monitor, but later realized it was me. It all went black for me then. I lost it. OK to be honest, I freaked the fuck out. I do not recall any of this but apparently I was screaming and saying over and over "I will be a good girl". My mother and one of the nurses dragged me from the room and into the waiting room where I think they injected me with something I have no idea what. There's 10 minutes of my life that I have no idea or recollection of. I went outside to wait for my dad, I have no idea why I left my mom alone, after all this was her father. All I know is that I wanted mine. He walked up the parking lot and toward me, and he just knew without me saying a word. We went back upstairs and I stayed in the waiting room while he went in with my mom. A little while later we all left. I got into my car and said I would meet them in Lexington, where they were going to tell my grandmother. My car was old but it started well. I drove down the street and it just stopped working. Drifting to the curb, I remember thinking Oh God, not now. I sighed and looked out the window at the sunrise just peeking over the horizon. Inexplicably the car just started up on it's own. When it came time to attend the funeral, all the cousins were in one limo and "grownups" in the other. This limo went slower than anything, even on the highway. When we got there, the Catholic priest, who managed to mispronounce my grandfather's name at the service and who would not allow our priest to take part, was standing there waiting for us. He had never visited my grandfather and our priest, who is Episcopalian, had been over every week. At any rate he walked towards my mother with his hand outstretched. No words of solace or comfort, just "I've been waiting here forever. Why are you so late? Where is my money?" My mother, with her teeth clenched very clearly said "You haven't finished your job yet, go bury my father and you will get your money. Now leave before I say something I really do not want to say to a priest." Go mom! Since then he has appeared to me in dreams several times, assuring me that there is a better place. (I promise I will write more about that later). Several years later my paternal grandmother died, and what a void she too has left in my life. Her passing took several years to happen, but I was not with her when she left. As she was dying she kept asking my mom to help her up. Mom kept scooting her up in the bed, but that was not what she wanted. "Help me up" she pleaded. Mom asked her "What do you see? What's up?" "Over that hill." was the reply. My mom asked her who was there. With a beatific look she said "there's Momma, Daddy, Bertha," (her sister) and named off other people who had long since passed. This black look of anger then came over her face. Pointing she said "You BASTARD!" There was someone there whom she clearly felt did not belong. Who it was she did not say. When my aunt, uncle and dad had arrived, it was like she had waited for them. She just stopped breathing, and everyone began to cry. Then she took in a gasping last breath and everyone jumped and began laughing. As she passed, the last sound she heard was laughter. What a wonderful way to go. She has come to me many times over the years in dreams, and continues to make her presence known.
Not only was I blessed with grandparents but their siblings, who are like surrogate parents to me. On my mom's side, my grandmother's sister (Aunt Sally) is still with us at age 94 still going strong with her sister, my grandmother, who is 92. She's a whole separate blog. :) My grandfather's sister is my beloved Aunt Marge, who just died last year. She has had many monikers over the years, including Gigi, Aunt Cupcake, Auntie Macgyver, and finally Yoda. Now you must understand she was never a tall lady, I doubt she reached 5'5. As she aged, she shrank. She had a round little body and bright red hair, hence Auntie Cupcake; for she looked like a little treat with a cherry on top. She was very creative at making appliances work longer than they had a right to, hence Macgyver. Yoda... well... it was a little mean but she did resemble the wise old little character and she always was full of wisdoms. "And even though Greenough Ave was in a large apartment building, it was never her apartment, it was her house. From the high ceilings, to the stern photographs of family members I had never met, to the claw foot bathtub, to the green bedroom with the Japanese panel, to the knick-knacks; it was a magical place where the normal rules never applied and what time it was never mattered. It was a place locked in time, where the “older ways” were revered. She always kept in touch, she was always elegant, and though she may have been short of stature, her heart was without measure. I will so miss her chatty phone calls, her unique views and opinions, but most of all her warm hugs and kisses. She had told my cousin Charlene that when she died, she wanted a party; she didn’t want a lot of grieving. " I wrote this ( and more) at her eulogy. I still miss her, just as much as I miss my grandmother and grandfather. I don't think it gets easier to lose a family member as you get older, its harder. I still have two grandparents left, on on each side, and for this I am profoundly grateful. However, watching my grandmother's slow decline into a blank cloud without memories has been one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Witnessing my grandfather's struggle with a body that no longer wishes to comply with simple instructions is heart wrenching. It seems so much more simple to remember them at their most vibrant. Maybe I'm not so grown up as I thought I was, for that seems somehow so childish and selfish of me. It's like a petulant child stamping her little foot and pouting. "No! I want them as they were. Not fair!" Indeed, but where is that written that life is fair and just all the time? "There are bigger things on Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy." I think that's how the quote goes.

Don't you just hate....

...when you are not at home and you realize that there is going to be a "bathroom emergency" and you just make it to the toilet, and let it all go only to realize A. there's no toilet paper B. someone walks in and hears the horrific sounds emanating from your ass C. There's no spray to remove the noxious fumes from the air D. All of the above
...when you are the only one who gets a joke thats really not funny to begin with and cant stop laughing?
....when you skip dinner and are looking forward to the leftovers you put in the fridge only to come home and find that your roommate has eaten them?
...when a one hit wonder song gets in your head and there's not a damn thing you can do to get rid of it?
....when you get dressed up for a big night out - do your hair, your nails, your makeup, your outfit and realize you have a stain right in the middle of your shirt that you did not see previously?
...when you lose some weight and people comment on how GREAT you look and you cannot help but think - "was I a heifer before?"
...when you dress up once for work and people all gush over how wonderful you look and you find yourself thinking "WTF, do I normally look like a wombat?"
...when you come in after a long day at work and click on the TV only to find your favorite movie is 5 minutes from the end?

Speaking about friends

People come into my life all the time, it's just how these things go. What amazes me is how some stay for a lifetime, yet others seem to drift away for no reason. I am also amazed by the wide diversity in my circles of friends. I think their differences are what makes me a better person, to try and see the world through others lives. I've remained friends with Stacey the longest, since fifth grade. We have gone through so much together, it staggers the mind. She has overcome and endured so much - a poor upbringing, a mother stricken with crippling arthritis, abuse by former boyfriends, her ex boyfriend dying by electrocution during a freak accident in their home... so much sadness. Yet now she is married to a wonderful man and has a beautiful home in New Hampshire. Through her I have met some wonderful friends - her husband Stephen, as well as Gene, Steve S, Michael, Andrew, Kenny all great people from different walks of life.
And then there's Eddie. My Eddie in every way save one - he's gay and barring that we would be married. We've known eachother since high school, when I was a starry eyed sophomore and he was a dashing senior. He asked me to the drive in, and never put the moves on me, we just fell into this best friendship immediately. Took him two years to tell me he was gay but in that time, wow what memories. Skipping school and eating Chinese food. Drinking some vile concoction made up from combinations of licquors we had pilfered from our parents supply of booze. Going to gay bars early to avoid the cover and having to stay the night in a sleazy motel because we were too bombed to drive. Going to concerts like Paula Abdul, Madonna. And all the while growing up and ever closer. We've lived together so often it's sometimes hard to tell where I end and he begins. We've gone on countless vacations together, held eachother's heads over the toilet when we had imbibed too much, seen horrible times together like his car accidents, his parents divorce, deaths of family members and friends...but we've seen many more wonderful times together like watching my cousin Jessica be born and grow up into a lovely young lady, experiencing weddings of friends, and laughing so hard over stupid saying and expressions that there was no noise coming from our mouths, only doubled over laughter with tears streaming down our faces. He's been there for everything for me. He was the first person I called when I lost my virginity. The person I called when I questioned my sexuality for a brief time. The one I cried with when I realized I had to have a hysterectomy at age 28 and would never have children. The one who cried with me when my grandmother died. The one opinion that mattered most when I met a man. He's one of the only people I know who just gets me, completely. When I get all excited about some new project, he's always supportive, unless he thinks it's really stupid. I don't know how I can love someone so much who can infuriate me until I am shaking with rage, yet still want to hang out with. He's changed over the last few years, it's bound to happen. I mean we are still roommates and still have silly expressions and fun times, but he is in a relationship (with Angus, whom I adore) as am I. I wonder sometimes what will happen to Eddie - and to he and I - when Rob pops the question and he and I move forward in our lives together. We've enabled eachother so long we are like extensions of one another.
And then there is Joe. Handsome as the day is long, he is the music and style aspect of my life. He's had his struggles as we all have, but he's always managed to come out on top and always look (and smell) fabulous. He's gay - but it doesn't rule his life. Wasn't always so easy - it never is for any gay person to admit to themselves and others - that they are different from the norms of society. He had a very strict Catholic upbringing; his mother called me once soon after he had "come out" and said "tell me he's doing drugs." I told he he didnt do drugs. Her comment back was "drugs I can handle. That other thing - I cannot." Even she has come around over the years, and thankfully now accepts him wholeheartedly. He got married last year - on my birthday - to a wonderful man named Dimitri. Joe has been all around the world as a flight attendant and is now very sucessful as a Realtor. I am always amazed by him, he always looks good, smells good, is never unglued (even when his father died) and always has the best style. For fancy dressup occasions he always does my hair, which always comes out fabulous. He always pours the best cocktails, and his parties are legendary. He is generous to a fault. He's made me realize so much about myself and my life, and has never given me bad advice. He's the one I go to when I need to take off the rose colored glasses and see the reality of the situation.
Then there are newer friends who have only been in my life for a short time, yet they seem to have been there forever. Mark, whom I dated for a brief time but then realized we were more like brother and sister than we were lovers. Mark with whom I can unleash the heavy metal beast that lurks in me, and whom I am proud to think of as a brother. Mark who has married a wonderful lady named Cheryl and had the two most beautiful babies Charlie and Chloe. Angus, whom I met through Eddie, is the reason I got the Concierge job. Angus, with his wonderful sense of humor, his Irish brogue, his class and style. Sharrie, who is now my boss whom I can make laugh so hard I once made her nose bleed. Sharrie whose life so closely mirrors my own it frightens me. Kaitlyn my coworker who in her young life provides me with great insight and great humor.
God it's a full time job to be a friend. But it's a job I relish and would never release. I wonder if the diversity of friends is in some way related to the fact that I am an only child, and yearned for sisters and brothers. Who knows.

People say the strangest things

And never was this statement more true than this job I currently hold.
I took a call from one of my "repeat callers" who asks for me by name. He's a pretty rich guy and tells me he is in Vegas and came over in his friend's Gulfstream but said he doesn't think the Bellagio likes him much as he lost $10,000 last night at the casino and wants to go home a day early. (Excuse me - you blew $10,000? In one night?) So I tell him I will work on getting him a flight and he says he can't hear me over the pinging and clinking of the casino noise. He walks outside. The noise dissipates. "Holy shit it's fucking daylight" is his comment.
One of my coworkers took a call from a man who asked her to find her a strip club nearby where he was. When she stated adult entertainment was something we did not provide assistance with, he returned with "What do you expect me to do, jerk off?"
I had another repeat customer who asked me to call her husband on his cell and pass on a message. A little strange, but sure, why not. She was new to the service and was testing the waters. Her message? "Last night was the best I've ever had and you are the greatest husband in the world."
I had another lady who told me she absolutely had to get her grandson a Playstation 2 by the weekend. The weekend after Christmas. Hot gift last Christmas, I understood completely, aside form the fact that Christmas had passed. "Let me tell you why it's so important to me. Two years ago my son was murdered the week prior to Christmas. He was shot, stabbed, and set on fire. I don't celebrate for obvious reasons, but he's only 7 and he deserves whatever he wants and I am going to make it happen." (Ya right I am going to let her down after a story like that!)
It's amazing the world that many of these folks live in, the things they take for granted, and the things they ask of me. Yet I must confess I do love my work, but more I love the people I work with. They truly make the job worth doing.