Everyone knows my favorite number is 13.  I was born on Friday the 13^th at 13:13 military time.  My Grandmother with whom I was extremely close was born in 1913. My house number growing up was 9313.  My husband and I purchased our first home and the number was 8131.  So when 2013 rolled around I was pretty excited.  I had the feeling that this was going to be THE YEAR.  A year full of travel and new experiences.  A year where I could finally take time, relish in visits with faraway friends, and not worry about getting back home so the kids don’t miss school.  I was also graduating from a program I have been involved with for the past 4 years and was looking for some new direction for the wind to take me.  Little did I know I needed to put my seatbelt on and take a Dramamine……………..

January 14, 2013….a normal day like any other.  I attended my evening class where we had a guided meditation.  I prayed for God to light my path this year.  Show me where I am going and where I am called to be. I came away from my class that evening invigorated on the promise of a new beginning and a new direction for my life.  As I turned down my street, I noticed that my daughters’ car was parked in front of my house.  That is not unusual, but the car was parked facing the wrong direction and it was 9pm in the evening.  A little too late for her to be there just hanging out with her father.  I came in through the garage, hung up my coat, was accosted by the dogs and finally made my way into the family room where my 25 year old daughter and her boyfriend of 9 years were sitting on my sofa with my husband blinking and smiling like a freak.  Well, my meditation really worked that night.  My vision was blinded.  God had sent up flares, spotlights, fireworks, high beams, and any other light source swirling around the room and my path was lit.  My sweet beautiful daughter Emma was pregnant.  Yay.  I think that is what I said.  Yay.  I’m not really sure of the rest of the evening and what was said or done.  It was all pretty much a blur.  The next morning, my husband and I looked at each other and said at the same time “oh shit”.  Partially because Emma was pregnant and that is disturbing on a few levels, and that we were going to be GRANDPARENTS.  How did time go by so fast that we were at that age? Granted a little early, but as my daughter points out on a regular basis, “It’s not my fault you had me when you were 21”

 Emma was at the house when I came home the next day.  Mommie, I need your help she said and started to cry.  Poor thing, she was overwhelmed, and truthfully, so was I.  But I had gone into MOMZILLA mode earlier in the day and had already met with our parish priest and talked to a reception venue to get open dates.  The look in her tear filled big green eyes absolutely sealed my fate for the year.  My year was to be about family and my daughter needed me in so many ways, I needed to be all for her at that moment and beyond.  Within 4 days, I had her wedding date, reception venue and wedding dress secured. 

 I was all consumed with this wedding for the next three months.  I bought a binder, a wedding organizer type thing, I carried it everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE.  I even brought it to bed with me.  As the weeks progressed, the binder became fatter and fatter with reception menus, limos, florists,  dj info, addresses, phone numbers, invitation information……….literally every moment of every day(sorry my work friends and bosses)was spent planning the perfect wedding I was determined to have for my little girl. Eventually I did become a MOMZILLA.  Although with no hissy fits and minimal crying.  Well maybe one hissy fit when I had to tell the florist for the 5^th time NO HYDRANGA in the flowers at church!

 Then I got a phone call.  It was a Sunday morning early, mid March, a few weeks away from THE DAY.  It’s my Mom.  Did I already remind you to fasten your seatbelt?  She had just gotten home after spending the night in the emergency room with my Father.  He had not one, but two strokes the evening before.  He always was an over achiever.  Fortunately they were small and only affected his vision slightly and the strength in one arm.   Dad also needed to have surgery on his carotid artery to de-clog it since that is where they think the cause of his strokes came from.   While testing in prep for surgery, the doctors noticed a spot on his lung.  Really!?!? But they can’t attend to that until he gets the vein in his neck fixed.  Dad had his surgery, but had low blood pressure and couldn’t leave the recovery room.  Of course, nothing is easy in this family.  We only got to see him for a few minutes at a time.  I walked into the recovery room and my Father is lying in the bed, bloody neck, bloody ear (you think they would have cleaned him up), bruised where the clamps were, and pale as pale can be.  I start crying, and he told me in a loud raspy voice to call Trantolo and Trantolo (a local attorney office) as he feels he has had his neck ripped out by a pit bull.  The look on that nurse’s face made my tears turn into laughter.  My Dad was going to be ok. 

 The responses for the wedding come rolling in and I finally make up my mind on the dress I would wear.  Emma has had her fittings, tuxedos ordered; flowers and venue are all set.  We are ready for a wedding.  The day before the big day, I welcomed friends and family from far.  The rehearsal went off without a hitch and we hosted the dinner after.  When I opened my eyes, Friday April 5, I thought, this is it.  I have done it all and hopefully, HOPEFULLY, Emma will have the wedding of her dreams.  My friend Laurie came over to do our hair and my neighbor did our makeup.  One thing I did forget was to have food and beverages for the wedding party and my friends.  I don’t know how I missed that detail.  Regardless, we made do with leftover barbeque from the night before.  The florist came by with the flowers, which were spectacular.  The boys started filtering home; they had all been out while we were getting ready.  All of a sudden, the limo was out front.  WHAT!  We weren’t even dressed, yikes!  EMMA!!!!! It took her bridesmaid and me 10 minutes to get her into her beautiful gown.  And due to her increasing size, took me 10 more minutes of sweating and cursing to get it hooked and laced up the back!  I had to get to the church to hand out all the boutonnieres and make sure the groom was there, etc…………The wedding was short and sweet and the reception amazing. Music was perfect, food was good, and being surrounded by our family and friends was the best.  It was “Lizzie Perfect” according to my sister-in-law.   When all my friends and boys left on Sunday morning, I curled up on the sofa and cried for the rest of the day.  The stress was over.  My job was done. 

 Two weeks after the wedding, my husband, aunt, uncle, and I met friends of the family in St Martin for 14 days.  It was just what I needed.  We woke up in the morning, walked the beach and then sat in the sun and did nothing.  Didn’t talk, didn’t read a book, it was heaven.  The only big thing we did was go on a catamaran ride and I had mahi mahi for the first time.  My husband called it big girl food.  Thanks.  We hit a bit of a snag on the way home, delayed flight, mini sleepover in North Carolina, back to CT a day late.  However, I came back with a refreshed mind and body looking forward to becoming a Nana. 

 Then it happened.  I opened up my Facebook one morning to see a frantic message from my oldest and dearest friend’s husband.  Call me, it said, Trisha is dead.  I sat and read it a few times, thinking this must be a cruel joke, someone has hacked into his account.  I tried calling Trisha’s cell, please pick up, please, please please! But she didn’t.  I called Mike.  It was true.  The only person who knew me better than I knew myself was gone.  Trish and I met in eighth grade and didn’t become fast friends until our junior year of high school.  I always joked I got her into college by putting her down as my roommate before she sent her application in!  We lived at school together first in the dorm, than an apartment.  We had so many adventures in North Carolina, too many to tell and not to tell! She was always there for me and me for her.  My whole world fell out from under me that morning. 

 It was hard telling the kids.  How do you tell them their auntie, their “fun mom” as my daughter called her, has died?    Calls were made, hotel rooms reserved, and I cried the whole 7 hour drive to Washington, DC.  The funeral was so hard.  Seeing her 8 and 9 year old beautiful girls so lost and sad, and her 20 year old son being so strong for them just ripped my heart out. Sitting waiting for the funeral to begin, I looked up and saw my very first friend I had at Lake Braddock, Kathy.  We both made eye contact and the tears wouldn’t stop.  Kathy had introduced Trish and me all those years ago.  Kathy and I lost touch after I had Emma.  I hate to say that Trisha’s death has brought us back together but it has.  I am truly grateful for that.

 On the drive back to Connecticut, my head hurt something awful.  It actually hurt to move my eyes and it felt like my brain was throbbing.  Of course, my husband had to work on a report so I got to drive the Jersey Turnpike.  By the time we made it home I was toast.  The next morning my throat was sore and I had a dry cough.  I felt worse and worse as the week went on.  Went to the doctor on Saturday and he gave me antibiotic and cough syrup with codeine to help me sleep.  Well, can I say that this was the beginning of 9 weeks of cough HELL??!!  I got through the antibiotic and felt fine, I just couldn’t stop coughing.  And it turned into an ugly cough too.  It sounded like I was going to cough up a lung or possibly both.  I coughed at work, sorry coworkers, and coughed all night.  The cough syrup with codeine just didn’t work.  Had numerous trips to the doctor, chest x-ray, all sorts of pills and elixirs.  Nothing worked.  By the middle of July, I was still going strong.  Then one day, it was gone.  The strangest thing ever.

 August was uneventful.  We had a week at the cape with family, my birthday dinner that included a personal serenade and a flamenco dance by a woman who probably should have hung up her castanets years ago.  I was at work one day and just happen to glance at the calendar.  OMG my husband is turning 50 in 5 days and I have NOTHING planned!  Earlier in the year before all things hit the fan, I was planning on having a HUGE catered party for him, get his brother up from Tennessee to surprise him, and have the old gang from Parkdale Court here as well.  OOPS.  Well that isn’t happening.  I quickly sent out e-vites, which I hate to do, but I had no time for snail mail.  Fortunately, Connor had the foresight to buy a ticket and fly home that weekend to surprise his Dad and Gallegos’ friend Bob Hauser, or Hauser as we call him, had bought a ticket as well.  Phew, two people at his party!  I somehow got a group together and had a great birthday weekend for him.  Crisis averted. 

 However, his birthday was quickly overshadowed by the arrival of Odin David Bergsbaken on September 3, 2013.  My sweet reason my path was lit was finally here.  Emma had gone into labor on Labor Day, how appropriate!  We spent the day together walking and timing contractions.  Sent her off to the hospital early evening and they sent her home.  At 3:30 the next morning I got a frantic call—mommie it hurts—well yeah!  Go!  Go back to the hospital! 11 hours later I got a text from her husband with just a photo of Odin and he looked MAD!  a half hour later I was at the hospital holding that sweet little bundle.  And let me tell you,  Emma having a baby was ok, I was cool with that.  It was the title “Grandmother” that really bothered me.  But holding him that very first time I could care less what I would be called.  The world that had fallen out from underneath me was coming back. 

 The rest of the year has been spent with my grandson every chance I get.  I made his Halloween costume, the first time I have sewn in 15 years.  Came out pretty good if I do say so myself.  We had a quiet Thanksgiving with him and an overindulgent Christmas.  Odin had more gifts than anyone else did of course.  Towards the end of December, our 13 year old golden retriever Jersey wasn’t doing too well.  She couldn’t stand without assistance, had trouble eating and generally looked like she was done.  The kids and I decided to take her in on New Year’s Eve.  Well, the three kids would take her.  I just couldn’t do it.  She went peacefully and we all had a quiet night reflecting on the end of the year and the end of my kid’s childhood.

Woke up on New Year’s Day to it raining in our living room due to a leaky radiator. Love living in an old house, don’t like the repairs!.  Guess 2014 has gotten off to a 2013 start….thankfully I have my grandson.  Having him around, having him smile at me, having his little hand hold my finger, I know I can get through anything that life is going to throw at me this year.  Bring it on!

The Wizard of Oz is scary....

I remember the very first time I saw the Wizard of Oz.  I was five years old, sitting on the navy blue and white sofa in our apartment in Bristol, CT.  My mother made a big deal out of the movie. She made a special dinner, popped popcorn and I even got a name brand soda to drink. With my baby brother in bed, the three of us gathered around the tv the air heavy with anticipation.

Let me just say, for a five year old, this whole movie was frightning!  From the tornado in the beginning; the house falling on a witch, her legs curling up and disappearing when her sparklie shoes are taken off, and then the Wicked Witch threatening poor Dorothy who didn’t ask to be in the Land of Oz to begin with.  But wait! There is a solution, Dorothy can go ask the Wizard for help.  Please go, anything not to have the Wicked Witch come back to the screen.  I did ok with the talking apple trees, but when the unlikely foursome got into the dark forest and started singing about lions, tigers and bears, oh my! my sense of security that the wizard was going to fix this was gone. I remember crying and hiding behind my father who was laying on the sofa.  When the flying monkeys swooped in, that was it!  I was terrified!  I jumped up from behind my Dad and at that exact moment, my father decided to stretch his arm and clocked me in the left eye with his elbow.  Now I am traumatized for life.  As a parent myself looking back, I can say with almost surety that my parents were laughing.  My mother calmed me down, and I sat in her lap the rest of the movie. Poor Dorothy, all she wanted to do was to go home and all I wanted to do was stop watching the movie.  Every year when that came on, my parents had me watch it in hopes I would get over it.  I would have nightmares for weeks. 

25 years later, my daughter was obsessed with The Wizard of Oz.  When we would go to the mall, she would stand and stare at the sparkly red Dorothy shoes at Nordstroms, her hot breath fogging up the case.  Please Mommie, I want those shoes.  We really couldn’t afford them at that time plus it freaked me out a bit, so my answer was always no.  I did make Emma a pair using white slip on sneakers and red glitter for her Dorothy Halloween costume one year.  Which to this day, she still talks about and weren’t good enough. I also made Eddie a wonderful tin man costume he refused to wear and for Connor, my nightmare child, I sewed the cutest flying monkey costume complete with gold lame wings, red vest and fez with tassel.  I suppose sewing the costumes for my kids and having Emma obsessed with the movie has helped ease my trauma.  A bit……

Recently, one of my coworkers shared with me that she didn’t understand why Abby, her 9 year old, was afraid of the movie.  My blood turned cold in an instant.  Well, I said, let me tell you…..scary mean witch, sentry guards with big hats and you can’t see their faces, flying monkeys, dark forests, talking trees and the room which Dorothy is locked in with the big hourglass--very scary.  I get it.  Abby and I decided to get together over hot cocoa to share our fears in hopes to help us not to be so frightened.  It’s funny how neither one of has committed to a date yet………

 

 

I Hate Food 2

So, I finally went to a nutritionist.  That is funny, I hate food, but I went to someone to tell me what to eat.  I had to.  With all my food restrictions I feel like I eat all the same things over and over again.  Boring.  It was nice to have someone listen to me and all my food issues and not think I am a freak.  Well, that and the fact that I am paying her helps. 

We originally corresponded by e-mail.  I had told her that I had gained 50 pounds in the past 20 years.  She asked me if I could do stairs since they are located on the 2^nd floor.  WHAT!!  I’m not THAT heavy…well, she didn’t know that 20 years ago I was underweight and probably look “normal” now to everyone else but me.  When I met her, I had old ugly feelings come out.  She was so tiny, like a little pixie.  There I am following her back to her office like Godzilla chasing Tinkerbell.  Arrgh, Arrgh!  I was in her office for a good hour and a half going over my history with food starting as far back as I can remember.  From grazing off  TV tables as a toddler , to the Mommie Dearest scenarios in high school staring at my dinner on the table until it was time to go to bed (my parents took pictures, they thought it was funny), ending with my husband leaving me in Whole Foods (he really did) because I wrinkled my nose at his dinner suggestion.  She reviewed my food diary/log I had kept for the past two weeks.  Some days I did real well with eating(yea!) and other days I wasn’t eating enough.  She also said I tend to eat the same things all the time.  Duh, that is why I am here.  I need help.  I am going back to see her next week for my updated food meal plan.  She is putting together a list of all the foods I can eat with suggestions on when to eat them. 

The next day I went and saw my allergist for my once a year check in and epi-pen refill.  She checked me out, said I didn’t look too bad but was obviously suffering during this ragweed season.   I told her about my newest symptom in grocery stores; I can’t go down the bread aisle or anywhere near the pastry department without having heaviness in my chest and it feels like I have inhaled spikes into my lungs and nose.   She whipped her head up from taking notes and said “that’s not good”.  Well I didn’t think so either.  (For all my dislike of all food, I actually graduated from pastry school a few years back.  I do like making cakes and treats for family and friends and occasionally sell a cake/pie or two around the holiday season.) The Dr said that I need to stop baking right away….well, that isn’t going to work out for me this year.  I have desserts to cater on Friday for a party of 150 people and then there is the holiday tea at church where I run the kitchen.    So, so, so, they drew blood from me to do further testing and I am going back next week for the skin tests.  Great.  Let’s find out how allergic I am and let’s see what else I can’t eat.  This is becoming really kooky. 

And the results are in!  I have new food allergies to add to my growing list: barley, oats, bananas, avocado, kiwi, and of all things, carrots.  I knew I didn’t like them for a reason.  Now where do I go from here?  I just ate my lunch, arugula salad with grilled chicken and balsamic dressing.  My face is all red and splotchy.  This is madness.  All foods I can eat and have a reaction to that??!!  Maybe it’s time I consulted a different doctor.  I feel bad because I really like my allergist.  I don’t know what anyone else could tell me.  If I am testing positive with a skin/blood test, what is another doctor going to say? 

As I have said before, it would be so much easier to take a pill for breakfast, lunch and dinner along with 8 glasses of water a day.  Since that isn’t happening any time soon, I guess I will muddle through this mess I am in looking for solutions.  I’m afraid that one day I will have the BIG reaction and have to use my epi-pen.  Actually, that is what my daughter is hoping for…..any excuse to stab me with a needle.  For a nurse, she really doesn’t have any bedside manner with her mom!!  Until then, the battle with food continues………..

Grocery Stores

I hate grocery stores; a few more than others, but hate, HATE them.  We all know I don’t like food, so it isn’t a stretch that I would feel that way about supermarkets.  They are a necessary evil, I mean, how are people supposed to get their food and various sundries?  The problem with living in a smaller town is the choices of where to shop are pretty limited.  I’ve started going out of town to shop.  There is a nice grocery by my office I go to pretty often.  The other grocery is in Hartford.  I like that one, but I can’t tell my Mother I go there, she gets all upset because it is in a not so nice part of town.  But with the choices I am presented with, it makes the most sense.

Waldbaums is at the top of my places I don’t like to go to EVER.  First off, it is located by a senior community, nothing against senior citizens, but they can get pretty cranky.  The parking lot is a mess and if I were to get into an accident it would be there.  If you make it into the building, the inside is pleasant enough, but the aisles are wicked narrow. And when friends bump into each other in the aisle and start talking, it is amazing how they can completely ignore anyone trying to get by.  In one particular aisle, there is a pole right in the middle so you can’t get your cart around it.  What is up with that?  There is also a ramp that I can’t figure out.  Was someone lazy and didn’t want to make the ground level?  It’s also pretty warm in there, I’m guessing to accommodate the seniors.  One time, my husband I were in there doing a mother load(buying two weeks worth of groceries)and we went through the self check out.  Big mistake.  There were a gazillion people there and they were all at the registers.  My husband had a brilliant idea to go to the self check out.  The 12 items and under express lane!  Really?  Jeeeeeze, so here I am in my ski jacket that will keep me warm in the Arctic Circle in this HOT grocery store swiping bar codes that aren’t swiping, putting my items in the bags, my husband taking the bags off the stand, then having the computer tell me not to take off the bags causing an error to happen and the unhappy girl from behind the supervising desk to come over and put a key in the register to fix it all the while glaring at us for taking up too much time in the express lane.  At some point, I had my jacket off, sweating up a storm and my husband and I having words loudly over how to properly go through one of these self checkout lanes.  I got myself in such a twist, my husband very quietly and politely asked me to leave the store, which I did in tears.  After an extended period of avoidance, I eventually succumbed and went back.  Then there was the hummus incident.  I had a positive attitude about the store that day—I will shop here, I will be pleasant, I will enjoy this time to myself without the kids.  Well that got cut short.  In the front of the store when you walk in is the deli and produce.  I had a few things in my cart then walked away to look at the hummus.  Grabbed a big tub for my vegan son, plopped it in my cart and started off towards the meats.  All of a sudden, this very senior woman shouted, “Hey, that’s MY cart” and slapped my arm!  Ohmygosh, I am so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.  She grunted and walked away in a huff.  I didn’t do it on purpose I called after her.  No response.  I tried to shrug it off, but my arm really stung!!  L Later that afternoon, my son cracked open the hummus container.  MOM!!! He shouts, come here quick!  He thought he was eating the skin of the chick pea when in fact it was either a mealworm or a maggot.  AACCKKK! I didn’t look at it too long to figure out what exactly it was, all I knew is that it wasn’t right.  I drove back to the store to return it.  It really wasn’t about the money, more of like, this is what happened to me today, one of your patrons slapped me and I have maggots in my hummus.  I told the poor girl at the customer service counter that I would NEVER step foot in her store again.  She said she didn’t blame me. 

Then there is the grocery store on Farmington Avenue that the whole town shops at.  I can never get in and out of there without seeing at least 3 people I know.  We also have a Trader Joe’s and two Whole Foods.  TJ’s is great but not a lot of variety and Whole Foods can get pricy if you are trying to feed a family of 5.  Now that it’s just my husband and I most nights for dinner, I do shop there out of laziness.  If I want to do a big grocery load, I’ll go to the store that is on the edge of the bad side of town.  Its clean, has wide aisles, really nice looking produce and friendly staff.  And most important, they carry a whole range of Hispanic foods.  My husband can get the chorizo he likes and I can get my cheesey arapas.  Full of carbs but oh so good for a once in a while treat.  But not a good place to be in the first of the month.  That’s when peoples get their check.  The grocery stores are packed then and I stood in line for 45 minutes once just to check out! 

Now, as luck would have it, I might be banned from all grocery stores.  My wheat allergy has gotten much more severe.  When near the bread aisle or in proximity to the bakery department, I feel like I am breathing in nails, my nose and lungs just ache.  When I told my allergist that, she had a freak out.  Well I guess that answers that.  No more craziness in parking lots, no more dodging people I don’t want to talk to. No more standing in check out lines forever.  My husband will have to man up and do the shopping from now on.  I think I can live with that!

Things

Birthday gifts.  Christmas, Anniversary, Valentine’s Day gifts...and we can’t forget the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.  Is anyone else besides me having trouble buying for people nowadays?  Kids especially, they have everything already.  And my parents, good grief!  If they want something they just buy it, so shopping is that much harder to do.  My biggest nightmare question is when my parents start asking what to get my kids for birthday or Christmas.  They don’t need or want anything.  They already have it!

What happened to saving your allowance to buy the Sweet 16 Barbie that smelled like strawberries or to buy the really cool t-shirt at Spencers?  All three of my kids are different with money.  My daughter used to get $1 allowance per week when she was little.  The first thing she would want to do is run to the Dollar Store and buy plastic fingernails.  I’d sit and meticulously put those on her and they would fall off in 10 minutes tops.  The middle child was pretty thoughtful with his allowance.  He would want to buy something to share with either his siblings or the whole family.  My youngest holds onto his money, I think he could start his own bank. 

As they have grown, gotten jobs, they want for nothing.  Cell phones, lap top computers, game systems.  What happened to calling someone on a land line or playing a game with an actual person.  My daughter started amassing kitchen appliances, tools, gadgets, pots, pans a year before she moved out.  Lest I forget to mention the new bedding, towels, pillows, lamps and furniture she bought herself.  My house was starting to look like a cross between Pier 1 and Williams Sonoma.  Because she kept buying her own things, that left nothing for the rest of us to get her.  The day she moved in, I asked her where her vacuum was.  Oh, I don’t have one.  What??  I picked up my Mother then ran to Target to get her cleaning supplies and toiletries.  I don’t think I have ever seen my Mother so happy to buy someone a vacuum!  Now the question is; does she actually use it?

My middle child has a townhouse apartment across from the campus of his university.  Talk about not needing anything.  He and his roommate are all set up.  His roomie is graduating this December and the lease on the apartment is up in January.  My son is graduating in May so we decided not to renew the lease.  That means Mr is moving home after exams in December and will commute his last semester.  He has three floors of used furniture.  I told him he has to have a tacky tag sale and get rid of things he does not need.  All that crap is not coming in my house.  I just got rid of a department store, I don’t want another coming in! 

My youngest is the one who wants nothing.  When he was seven, we asked him what he wanted for Christmas.  A penny he said.  A penny?  Yeah, I don’t need anything mom, a penny will do.  He has his clothes, phone, lap top and Playstation.  That is all he wants or needs in his life.  I am helping him pack up for school and everything that boy wants to take can fit in one suitcase.  Where did he come from?  He is certainly not like the other two. 

My husband is a big culprit of spending money on himself.  He just bought himself a brand new high end car and pampers that thing like it was alive.  The man also wants for nothing as far as his guitar/music studio is concerned.  There is always new equipment being snuck in down the basement stairs.  And he says I’m bad about spending money! For all you inquiring minds out there, I DO wear all the shoes in my closet and use all the handbags as well!!  Not all at the same time. 

When is this spending going to end?  How long can we sustain this?  Pretty soon everybody is going to have everything, then what?  When I say everybody I mean EVERYBODY.  What is going to happen when there is nothing left to buy?  Hopefully people will start to realize that life isn’t about having things.  I was thinking about going to the mall this afternoon to scope out fall fashions and pop into the craft store to get a few things.  Instead, I am going to spend the afternoon with a friend.  We are going to bring her paintings to a gallery and set them up for a show.  Afterwards, we are going to “the meadow”(what the boys call the river bank) for cocktails while we watch our husbands fly fish on the river.  Next time my parents ask what we need, I think I am going to ask for their time.  Time spent together going over old pictures, time to hear stories about their childhood (who knew Auntie could get a bicycle up a tree?) and time creating new memories.  Because at the end of the day, it’s all we really have.

Home Depot Madness

I stopped in Home Depot today to pick up a few things.  I decided to opt out of the self check-out.  If you don't know me, I cannot deal with self check-outs.  My husband had to ask me to leave the store once I was getting so bent.  I pick the register with no one in it and our conversation went like this...........

Girl-How are you today?  Find everything you need?
Me-Fine thank you, yes I did.
Girl-Would you like to open up a Home Depot card today and save 10%?
Me-No thanks, we already have one.
Girl-Do you want to open a NEW Home Depot card? You can save 10% today and have no finance charge
       for 12 months, it's a great deal, blah blah, blah(I stopped listening, it was like school)
Me-No thank you.
Girl-Are you sure?
Me-Yes, I'm only spending $12!
Girl-RELAX!
Me-Inner horror and a shocked look on my  face

Now, I don't know if she was telling herself to relax or me, I don't think she was all there to begin with.  I mean, if you already have a credit card to the store, why would you open a NEW one?  And why would a person want to open up a card for $12? I don't know, it just struck me as odd.  And I walked out of there feeling like I needed to take a shower.  Why does that always happen?  I purposely didn't touch anything I didn't need, I chose items that weren't dusty and I still walked out of there feeling gross.  Not to mention the creepers in there staring at me, its like they have never seen a girl in a hardware store before.  I think I'll let my husband go from now on.....

The Rental

My husband and I recently flew to Raleigh, NC to settle our youngest in at NC State University.  Our flight was relatively uneventful, unless you count my purse having to go through the screening/x-ray process 4 times.  We landed in Raleigh to bright beautiful skies and one of the most efficient airports I have ever been in.  On our way to get the rental car, my husband kept asking if my son really rented the smallest car.  Yes dad, he replied, you told me to rent the cheapest one.  Really?  Really! 

My son and I stood outside Hertz waiting for my husband to secure our transport.  As time ticked by, I looked at Connor then we both looked at the shiny orange and black sports car and said at the same time—he’s upgrading to that car!  Not 2 minutes later, a Hertz employee bursts out of the front door, leaping like a gazelle towards the car and exclaimed loudly in a sweet southern accent, “the Challenger’s hittin’ the road!”  Connor and I busted out laughing.  Leave it to boys and their toys, and my husband and his cars. 

The Hertz guy fired up the engine of the 2011 Dodge Challenger RT and it was LOUD!  He pulled the car around for us and was almost giddy with excitement.  Do guys really get that excited about cars like that?  My husband came out of the building with a Cheshire cat grin on his face.  I just rolled my eyes.  I crawled into the back seat and had my son sit in the front seat so he could help my husband navigate—he had been to Raleigh several times before and knew his way around.  By the time we made it to the hotel, I had leg cramps from being folded up in the back.  Not much room in those kinds of cars!

We parked at the hotel, unloaded our stuff and came back out to go see the college campus before dinner.  As we were walking towards the car, I noticed a gentleman following us.  Then we heard him address us—Hello there!  My name is Scooby.  I have a motorcycle club and our colors are orange and black.  You have a pretty sweet car there and we would love for you to ride with us tomorrow.  I have a bunch of friends who would love to have their pictures taken with your car.  Okayyy, sure we will think about it, thanks!  

We tooled around Raleigh in the Challenger, capturing attention where ever we went.  I could see people looking and pointing from my back seat cubbyhole window.  Of course, my husband has to drive like a maniac, chirping tires and putting the pedal to the metal.  After our dinner, we drove back to the hotel and parked in the middle of Scooby’s motorcycle club.  At least if we parked by them, they would be respectful and mind the car—no dings.

The next morning, we took off for breakfast.  Boy, those Southern people sure do love to eat breakfast out!  Could not find a table anywhere, so we ended up at the local K-Mart to get Connor hooked up with school supplies.  When we came out, I noticed a giant scratch on the front bumper, like someone backed into us.  OMG!  What do we do now?  Go find somewhere to eat of course; doesn’t everyone do that after they discover a scratch on their bumper?  We ended up at Golden Corral.  Ick, but it was food.  We took the rental agreement in with us and sure enough, there was no indication that the car was previously scratched.  Fortunately my husband signed up for extended rental coverage through American Express and was able to submit a claim for the bumper.  I think I was the only one who ate that afternoon….my husband was on the phone the whole time and Connor was so nervous he looked like he was going to barf.  Poor kid could barely choke down a small salad and two onion rings.  He’s my child that will eat anything that isn’t nailed down, live or not.  I was loving the chocolate fountain!  Anyway…

On our way to my son’s dorm, we heard a couple of shout outs to us—love your car man!   Good grief!  As we pulled up to the dorm, the young man assisting in the parking lot had my husband unroll the window.  “Dude, first I want to say, I LOVE your car!  And you can park in the lot over there”  He parked, we unloaded and both boys left me standing next to the car as one went to find a dolly and one, well, I don’t know where he went, but I was there alone.  At least three people told me how much they liked the car.  Really?  Its ORANGE!  But I guess people like orange cars with black stripes and a racing fin on the trunk. 

We got Connor all set in his dorm, said our good-byes, had some tears(all mine)and set off to the airport to drop off our scratched rental car.  After a bit of rough navigating(my husband and I could never be on The Amazing Race together)we made it to the Hertz return lane.  A pimply faced kid is standing there all smiles with return sheet in hand. Wow, did you have fun in this car?  It’s a great car, you were lucky to drive it.  Yeah, ok, but we noticed something when we came out of a store.  Oh the scratch? Yeah, that was there! They just forgot to mark it on the sheet.  Phew.  My husband gave him the keys real quick and caught the shuttle to the airport before Hertz could change their minds! 

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that my husband rented this car.  When we were in Virginia for a family wedding in December he upgraded to a high end Cadillac.  He took our two boys to Miami in January and rented a Mustang convertible.  This time, the Challenger.  We don’t have any trips planned anytime soon where we will need a rental.  But there has been chatter about, can you guess?  Buying another car for him to drive this winter.  He is starting to worry about the snow and his Jaguar…..I knew it would be a problem even though he insisted it wouldn’t be.  Maybe he can rent one for two months.  I bet that Challenger would be available!

Window Monogram

I did it!   Well, I didn't actually put my window sticker on myself, the directions were too complicated, I had my girlfriends daughter come over and do it for me.  She wanted to put it on the Jag instead, but I didn't think it would be a good idea.  My son came home and took one look at it and said "Mom's got a trampstamp!!"  And it took my husband a week to even notice my new window monogram.  For a psychologist you would think he would be more observant.  I have to be even more careful driving around town and not give into road rage.  Not only are my license plates easy to remember, now I have my initials on the back of my car!  I love it though, and am pretty proud sporting my trampstamp!

Bumper Stickers

Bumper stickers....they are kind of like tattoos.  I think you either like them or not.  They can be permanent like a tattoo, you can have many of them, and they both fade over the years.  Some people have them, some don't.  I'm really undecided if I want to put a window sticker on my back window.

Growing up, my parent's cars were devoid of any stickers whatsoever.  No small sticker advertising the dealer where they bought the car, no "Give Peace a Chance" or "Go 'Skins" Pristine surfaces on both cars until I started to drive, then our cars were littered with dings and dents.  My father bought me a VW Fastback when I was in college to spare my mother's new Pontiac Sunbird.  I decorated that VW with at least 5 Grateful Dead window stickers and a few bumper stickers as well.  I'll never forget the day he had to borrow it to go to work.  He came home and said that he was so embarrassed to be driving around a car with skulls, roses and dancing bears all over it.  How could people take him seriously when the car gave people the impression he was a stoner?  Since that day, I refrained from having any bumper stickers on any of our cars.

Fast forward 25 years.....my really good friend here in Connecticut went out of town and came back with the whole back of her car COVERED with bumper stickers.  They all have to do with peace, love and understanding.  Actually, I think she has that on one of her stickers!  They don't look bad on her car and much like a tattoo, they suit her personality, and she is easily identified if you are driving through town or looking for her in a parking lot.  I must admit, I felt a bit of peer pressure to put a sticker on my car.  I had an older vehicle at the time, so I thought, what the heck, and put a Spanish flag bumper sticker on.  My husband is of Spanish heritage and had his growing up years in Madrid, hence the Spanish flag.  It held up pretty well, didn't fade or curl up.  We have since sold the car and it has been sighted in another part of the state!  Like a tattoo, that sticker isn't going anywhere!

Now on to my conundrum.  I have a new car.  Well, a new-used car.  It's beautiful, no dealer labels, no real identifying marks except for my license plates.  The plates belonged to my grandmother and before her, they were her father's.  So, what to do.  Recently another girlfriend of mine wanted to get a monogrammed window sticker for her car.  OOOOHHHH, I'm all about having things monogrammed and that sounded like a sticker I could do.  Not the "My kid is on the honor roll at King Phillip" or "My kid can beat up your honor student".  I ordered us our respective monograms and they came in a few weeks ago.  She put hers on right away and it looks fabulous.  I have been staring at mine.  Do I do it?  I don't know.  What if I put it on crooked(always a danger with tattoo's), what if the back wiper wipes it off?  I just don't know.  My husband recently bought himself a new car and I told him I was going to put my monogram on his car.  He didn't think that was funny. 

And here I sit, filled with so many questions.  Questioning myself even, why is this such a problem??  Diving to work today I saw lots of cars with lots of stickers and lots without.  I guess it would be ok to put it on, it would be on the glass, and I could scrape it off easier than a sticker on the bumper.....I know!  I'll put it on tomorrow......maybe.

It's been 2 weeks.....

and my husband has officially gone mad.  He washes the Jag every other day and he must have wiped the car free from dust 15 times on Saturday.  Heaven forbid I leave the garage door open....it lets in the pollen and we can't have that now, can we.  I caught him on line looking on the Jag website at "snow socks"  Snow socks!!! Really??!!  They look like booties you wear into an operating room but instead of putting them on your feet, you put them on the rear tires whilst wearing orange latex gloves.  Apparently they add some sort of traction while driving through ice and snow.  I laughed so hard at the video that I hope I have dissuaded him from looking into those further.  Oh, and the biggest news is that the car has a chip in the windshield, the heated windshield, already.  Good grief, and I thought I was high maintenance....

The Jag is here................

And boy, is it lovely.  I came home from work Monday afternoon and I saw a key, well more of a clicker looking device, on the counter.  I asked my son if his dad had gotten the Jag...yep.  Went at noon time. My husband pulled the car into the garage that evening, and wow, that's about all I could say.  He took me for a spin around the block with my girlfriend in the back seat.  I looked back at her after we made the first turn....she had her shoes in her hand(God forbid we get dirt on the new floor mats)and a big grin on her face.  The seats are soft buttery leather that seem to form right to your body, holding you in such comfort that you don't want to get out.  The interior has ambient lighting and a kick ass stereo.  Well, it better!  I haven't driven it yet, I am afraid of the power, I think it has 450hp, alot more than my BMW.  And I thought that was fast.....Tuesday morning around 4am, my husband got out of bed and went downstairs.  What is he doing?  Then I heard the mudroom door open to the garage, creeeeeeaaaaak--OMG he's down there looking at his car!  Wack job.  He is so happy, he has thanked me a billion times for letting me let him buy it. My husband works so hard, has driven junk cars for so long, its about time he had something special. 

Alas, no Jag today.....

My poor husband, he's been counting down the days till he gets his new car.  It looks like the car fairy hasn't made it to CT yet.  And the out look isn't too good for tomorrow either.  Especially if the end of the world happens....he will never get his dream car.  Unless he's not raptured and is left behind to endure the 6 months of hell on earth.  Then he will be riding in comfort through the hailstorms of fire and brimstone. Stay tuned for updates as they happen....

The 2011 Jaguar XF Supercharged

For the 28 years that I have known my husband, he has always driven the clunker car.  The “good’ cars were reserved for me since I primarily toted the kids around.   He’s driven cars without brakes or gas caps, cars that overheat just by looking at them and cars that should have never been on the road in the first place.  About ten years ago, when we finally had two reliable vehicles, he bought himself a 1986 Jaguar XJ 12 cylinder red rocket.  The Jag was fun for a while but soon the novelty wore off.  It had one problem after another, would overheat just by turning it on, leaked oil and housed many a mouse.  It was a happy day when that car went bye-bye.  A few years ago, my husband started frequenting the Jag dealership in town, checking out the new models, dreaming about the day he could buy one.  I’m not sure exactly when but sometime last year he started becoming serious about buying one.  I just fluffed it off, saying yeah, yeah, whatever.  Not thinking he could possibly be serious.  We have 2 kids in college and tons of things to do around the house, how could we afford this??  Please….

We went to Singapore in March to visit my brother and his family.  While we were there, my husband kept showing my brother a video on YouTube featuring the Jaguar XF Supercharged driven and reviewed by the guys on the BBC show “Top Gear”.  He and my brother ended up in a Jag dealer IN Singapore—Good Grief!  He came back giddy like a schoolgirl, busting at the seams to tell me all about it.  In Singapore, everything is heavily taxed and cars especially.   The Jag he is interested in is $435,000 in Singapore but under $75,000 in America…..it’s a bargain, right?  He has to buy it—NOT.

Back home in the states, I was hoping that the Jag issue would fall by the wayside.  He can’t be serious, he just can’t.  He’s been known to tell tales and fantastical stories to me.  I would fall for them and he would get a good laugh.  I was thinking this was one of those times and wasn’t going to fall for it this go around.  Instead, it became an obsession with him.  Late at night when I would think he was working, I’d take a peek at his laptop and he would be looking at Jags on e-bay or watching that damn BBC video.  Jeeze man, stop!  And then it happened.  I was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes and my husband came over to me and said he was going to by a Jaguar.  Wh-wha-WHAT??  No, I don’t think so.  We need a shed, finish the dining room, redo the bathrooms, pay for the boys college……so many other things to do and buy.  And my biggest argument against this purchase was that he wouldn’t be able to drive it in the winter.  Not the winters we have here in the Northeast!  He’d have to buy another car and that’s another added expense.  After my meltdown, I thought he was done with this.  The next Saturday I had gotten up early to run some errands.  When I got home, my husband caught me off guard asking me to go with him to test drive a Land Rover.  Oh, ok.  Then he continued with, well after we do that, let’s drive down to Woodbridge to test drive the Jag.  Oh for goodness sakes, if it will make you shut up!  So off we go to the Range Rover dealer.  Drove a lovely truck, but it would be like buying another Suburban.  It would be just too much for what we need. 

We got to the Jag dealer and-wow-those cars really are beautiful.  I can see why my husband is so taken with them.  They are all like works of art.  While we were waiting for the dealer to wash the car we were going to test drive, I sat in a convertible.  Now THAT I could buy with no argument.  Out on the road, I checked out all the interior stuff, radio, navigation system, all the buttons on the console.  Hmmm, what’s this button do?  It was a button with a picture of a car and a snowflake.  My husband answered slowly, “I don’t know” in a tone like he did know but wasn’t saying.  Whatever.  We got back to the dealer and with great flourish my husband says “hey Rob, what’s this button with the snowflake do?”  “Why come inside and I will show you a 3 minute video on the Jag’s WINTER mode”.  Winter mode?  Are you kidding me?  Since when do Jag’s have a winter mode??!!  You can’t drive those things in the winter.  This felt like a total set up.  My husband knew I would never believe that he could drive it in the winter unless I saw it for myself.  We watched the video set in New Hampshire on a closed icy snow covered road with professional driver.  Oh good grief, now what am I supposed to say, that video just took away my biggest argument!  After the video was over, my husband looked at me, Cheshire cat grin batting his big brown eyes and said “You can pick the color”

Later on that week, we had a serious sit down.  Laid out all our expenses, no holds barred discussion.  Can we really afford this?  There is no way I am sacrificing any of my expenditures for this car.  Although I did give up my gym membership—I never go.  But I decided that before all this.  We stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, but had a zero meltdown adult conversation.  In the end, with all that we want to do to the house and the boy’s education, it looks like there is enough money in the till for the car.  The next few days we didn’t talk about it.  I was at work having a particularly bad day and got a phone call from my mother.  She for one was not in favor of the car.  I forgot what she said but our conversation ended badly--we hung up on each other at the same time.  I promptly called my husband and said “are you going to pull the trigger or not?”  He called back later and said he had put a deposit on a 2011 Jaguar XF Supercharged Ebony black, London tan interior(my choice) and the upgraded XFR seats(his choice).  Apparently the seats are the shiznet.  Oh boy, here we go….

It’s been a few weeks since he ordered the car.  Rob couldn’t find one made to my husband’s specifications in the States so he special ordered one from England.  The car wouldn’t be ready until July or later.  A few days ago, I got THE call.  The ETA on the Jag is this Friday, Rob found one in Michigan.  Yesterday I was getting ready for work and needed help with a zipper.  My husband asked if it was a new dress….why yes it is, and you can never say anything again about me spending money when you have just spent the most of all—and all for YOU!  He held his head low and mumbled some sort of agreement.  Today we are all anxious about tomorrow; is the car going to be in?  Are we crazy for buying this? What have we done?  Are you really going to drive the Jag in the snow with all the gunk on the roads?  And no, I am not taking my shoes off and wearing slippers in the car, that’s just cuckoo!!  But I will keep all of you updated and promise to put up pictures……………………..

Sugar

I don’t like food in general, but I do love sugar.  Sugar in any form will do.  Candy, chocolate, ice cream, custards, puddings…..yum.  I don’t care for sweet tea or coffee, which is strange for a human fly, but do love a good milk shake.  Upon occasion, I’ve been known to eat candy and sugar products in place of meals.  Nothing like having a handful of Hershey kisses for lunch, especially the caramel filled ones. 

As I was downing my third sleeve of Peeps the Saturday before Lent, I thought to myself, I need to stop; this can’t be good for me.  So that day I decided to give up sugar for Lent.  I’ll just stop eating all the candy and really pay attention to the sugar content in all other foods and try not to be so excessive.  Piece of gluten free cake, right?  That evening, I told my daughter what I had decided to do.  She looked at me and said “Mom, isn’t sugar your major food group?  You can’t eat much of anything else.”   Oh my gosh, she’s right.  It is my major food group.  I’m allergic to so many foods.  What am I going to eat?  After my mild panic attack, I thought ok, I can do this.  There are plenty of things I can eat……right?

Do you ever read the labels in the grocery store?  Do you know how much sugar is added to pretty much everything?  Unbelievable.  And do you know how hard it is to give up candy?  The very first night I was at my parent’s house for dinner.  I stood in the kitchen talking to my father absent mindedly tossing M & M’s in my mouth.  It was such a habit.  I collected myself and told myself to stop.  I did much better for the next week or so, only eating things that had low or no sugar added.  I even tried the sugar free Peep.  I’d like to say I took one for the team, the Peeps people need to pull those atrocities from the shelves across the world.  I didn’t even bite all the way into the fake Peep before I was dry heaving into the garbage bin.  While I realize people have dietary/health issues and there is a market for sugar free candy, sugar free Peeps are just wrong.  I immediately fired off a scathing e-mail to the powers that be at Peeps.  They must have been thinking who is this crazy woman??

Alas, I have fallen a bit off the wagon.  On the flight to Singapore a few short weeks ago, the stewardesses handed out ice cream bars and it would have been rude of me to say no, right?  Vanilla ice cream topped with caramel covered in what was like a Nestle Crunch Bar.  They were so good that my husband made me keep the package it came in to see if I could find them here in the States.  Of course not, probably for the best.  I have been good at work though.  Work is a place where I would have most of my sugar.  It’s really hard to walk into my supervisor’s office and not pick up a mini Reece’s or a Rolo.  Today I was in Target and figured, while I am here, I might as well get the kid’s their Easter candy. Well, our Target just upgraded to include a grocery store and they have moved everything, so I was all over the place.  Zip lock bags were not near the dog food aisle anymore and it took me a while to find the kitchen department.  I ran down my list and totally had forgotten to pick up a few stuffed bunnies.  (At work we are collecting bunnies to give to the kids at Connecticut Children’s Hospital.)  I had to wander the store again to find them.  For all my efforts, I grabbed a Reece’s peanut butter egg….I thought it would be better for me than three sleeves of Peeps.  Don’t know about that, but it sure tasted good. 

Well, Lent is almost over but my quasi sugar fast is not.  I really don’t need to be eating so much candy, no one should. I’m not saying I won’t eat all the kids stale Peeps or the left over Reece’s bunny in the four pack, but I am really going to try to monitor myself.  No candy at work, no Gummy Bears(the good ones in the gold pack)in the car, and no ice cream in the freezer.  I think I can do it, I think……