Now, about that smog check

I woke up, looked at my alarm, and promptly decided that I needed more sleep. Twenty minutes later I decided that I needed a valid driver's license more, so I hauled my cookies out of bed, got pretty, and drove my illegal self over to the DMV where I did NOT have an appointment. That's me, folks, living dangerously.

While applying mascara, my overly sensitive left eye began tearing. I dropped some eye stuff in there and finished the beautification process. Then, I was gathering materials for a quick knit project and could not for the life of me read the size printed on the set of DPNs I picked up. I needed size 6. I think they're 7's. No matter how far away I held them, I couldn't really see it. I know, I know--Get thee to the optometrist, woman!

The DMV was moving at a good pace. I didn't have to wait that long at all, maybe 30 minutes to be seen, then wham-bam-$28, ma'am. The woman processing my application told me to "step to the next window to read the eye chart." Uh-oh. I'm screwed now. Fortunately, there was a girl at that window and I had to stand back a bit so as not to crowd her. I read all the lines perfectly and the woman told me, "Oh, your vision's fine if you can read it from back there." Little did she know it's the up close that gets me in trouble. Then, she said the most wonderful thing she could say--"Just step over to the Camera line and get your picture." [a chorus of angels sang]

My current license picture is hideous. Yeah, I know, everyone's license picture is hideous. But seriously, mine looks like a mug shot, like I've been arrested for drunk & disorderly conduct. I'm talking Nick Nolte's mug shot looks better than my license photo. I hate having to show it the officer who just pulled me over (not that I get pulled over a lot, yo; just saying) because while I'm trying to be all cute and flirty, he's holding proof positive that I have THOSE days and it distracts him from my ample assets. (God help me if I ever get pulled over by a woman) And today? I look damn good, if I do say so myself. I even remembered to apply lip gloss. Now, I haven't seen the new photo so maybe she caught me blinking, but it's got to be better than the current one. Doesn't it?

Now, I only have to deal with my past due registration, which is being held up on account of me being drastically poor and needing the smog check this year. I should have it done by January. And they don't start impounding your car until you're six months overdue anyway.

My head's a mess

Yesterday afternoon I took a nap. It was going to be a quick one since "She's Crafty" comes on at 4:30 and I'm obsessed with that show. Three hours later, I woke up dazed with a headache. I went to brush my hair to put it up and--OW!--there's a bump on top of my head. Not quite a goose egg, mind you, but definite swelling and pain. What the hell happened while I was sleeping?!?

I took some Excedrin and settled in for some bad TV. I fell asleep later and woke up at exactly 3:20 from a dream in which I was helping to remodel some house and accidentally let a priceless fish go down the drain while cleaning the aquarium. Okay.

I went to bed for real and woke up every hour at exactly 20 minutes past the hour with dreams of living in some dystopian society, but different scenes each time. At one point I remember some renegades had my mother held hostage. They were returning her and all the adults in the house were coming out front to show support and to show the bad guys that we had greater numbers than they did. There were children in the house so I shouted, "No, some of you have to stay here and guard the other entrances. Haven't you ever seen that Billy Jack movie*?" Yeah, weird, I know. But sure enough, the renegades had people trying to sneak in the back way to steal the kids. You can't fool dream me.

Finally, at 8:20 I gave up and just stayed up. My head still hurts and it's cold like the Tundra in here. I've inadvertently discovered that when the temperature in my apartment drops to 63 degrees and below, one of my smoke detectors starts beeping. Once the temperature rises above 63, it stops. I wonder why? It's just the one detector, too. None of the others join the chorus. Curious.

*In the movie, the bikers make a big scene in this guy's front lawn and when he runs out to see what's going on, some of them sneak in the back door and kidnap his daughter.

My Favorite Turkey

Thanksgiving Day, 1981--It was early morning when we got the call. "Evelyn's in labor." Mom was preparing for the big meal. I was getting ready to go to the annual Turkey Day Game, a 65-year-old rival football game between East Stroudsburg and Stroudsburg high schools. It was a home game that year (Eastburg), as it is this year. Just before halftime, as the East Stroudsburg High School Marching Show Band (as they were called in those days) was about to take the field, I found my best friend, Joann, who was in the Silks squad (you may have called them Color Guard at your school). "Evie's in labor!" I shouted to her. She gave me an excited thumbs up.

After the game, we were all on pins and needles. Even though our team lost, something bigger was on the horizon--a new baby! We waited all day for the good news call. Dinner time came but no baby. Dessert was served, still no baby. Dishes were done, but no calls came in--well, not the call we were waiting for. Everyone else was rushed off the phone immediately. Leftovers were being picked over and for crying out loud we still didn't have a new baby in the family!!!! What the hell, child? Just follow the yellow brick road out of the womb already so we can relax!!

Finally, sometime after 7:00pm EST*, my brother Roy called to tell us that Evelyn, my lovely sister-in-law, had delivered a bouncing baby boy. The Roy had arrived. Mother was exhausted; baby was chillin' having taken his good ol' time getting here.

So, on Thanksgiving Day, 2009, when the East Stroudsburg South (because we now have two high schools) Cavaliers defeated the Stroudsburg Mountaineers by a shameful 42-0, I wish my favorite little Butterball a very Happy Birthday!! I love you, Roy.

*I may be wrong on the time. It could have been around 9pm, but I seem to remember 7ish because my brother called at 7ish am. Anyway, the kid took his time, but we still love him.

It's my birthday, yo.

And this is what I look like today.Not much has changed except the additional padding and gray hairs, which you can't see thanks to Miss Clairol. I tried to do some eye makeup today for a glamour shot, but my left eye decided to be all sensitive and teary, so all my efforts were washed away. Hence, the not-so-close-up photo that makes me look cross-eyed in the sun, with my ghetto-fabulous work neighborhood in the background, as seen from P4 parking. But it's a lovely day today, as it always is on my birthday.

Just want to give a few Shout Outs:
Thank you, Mom, for not being satisfied with just one daughter and trying again. Thanks for teaching me to be crafty. Thank you for the sacrifices you made to keep us safe and sound and for everything you've done to get me this far in life. You're a keeper, Joanie.
Thank you, Dad, for the sense of humor you instilled and for my knowledge of tools and home repairs. Because of you I've been able to impress the shit out of several men with my ability to do basic electrical work. Sorry about all those folding rulers I ruined.
Thank you, Kate, for sharing a room with me all those years, for waking up to turn the bathroom light on because I was afraid of the dark and for talking me through the nightmares. You're my hero.
Thank you, Roy Sr, for being my rock through the hard times (you know what you did) and for having the infinite patience to teach me how to drive a stick. You succeeded where others failed.
Thank you to all my siblings and my best friend Joann for having beautiful children and making me an aunt many times over, thereby alleviating the pressure for my own procreation, which, let's be honest, is never going to happen.

And a very special thanks to all of my friends, both personal and Internet-based, who enrich my life in so many ways.

They grow up so fast

My youngest niece, the beautiful Mary Kate, turns 14 this November 21st. She just goes by "Mary" these days, or sometimes Mae, or The Mae. We're apparently fond of putting "The" in front of our names. Anywho, this lovely thing is 14 years old and I can't believe it.

This girl has always had a mind of her own. She wrote short stories when she was 4 years old. Okay, so she couldn't write then. She dictated the stories to her loyal audience, who dutifully wrote down every word, then she illustrated the pages. And they were full stories, too. Oh, I'm not talking Caldicott winners, but I couldn't have been prouder. All of my nieces and nephews have caused me to marvel at the child's mind but Mary made me realize just how advanced their minds can be. I remember one day shortly after her 5th birthday, we were drawing on MSN Paint, a rudimentary medium at best. Mary became increasingly frustrated at not being able to draw a proper hand for her character. I tried, and while my hand was pretty good, it was not good enough for her. I told her, "Honey, it's really hard to draw with a mouse. Just do the best you can." She tried, erased, tried, erased, and tried again, but couldn't get it the way she wanted it. In her frustration, she threw the mouse, which being tethered came back at me. I scolded her and sent her away from the computer. I was so angry at this willful child. Later, as I replayed the events, I started thinking what she must have been feeling. I know the frustration of not getting things just right. I can't imagine how hard it must have been to be a child and have the vision but not the dexterity to pull it off.

So, on your 14th birthday, Mary, I hope you never lose your vision. I hope you always have that mind of your own, regardless of what your friends are doing and saying. And I wish you the very best day.
This photo stolen from her mother's Facebook page. She'll kill me for it.

Vintage Photo Friday--Sucker for a man in uniform

Today's (OMG, this is long) post comes with a tale of innocence and chivalry. It was October 1980. Jimmy Carter was barely holding on in the White House. Fifty-three Americans were still being held hostage in Iran. And I was but an innocent girl of 15 (going on 16) who still believed in white knights and Prince Charming, and who apparently thought hair in my face was sexy. My parents had been officially divorced for about a year and my sister's class had just gone off to college. A family friend, Billy, had been accepted at West Point Military Academy and that October his parents invited my mom, sister and me to join them for Parents Weekend. Billy's sisters, Suzi and Debbie, were friends of mine as well, so it was a fun little getaway.

We arrived on Saturday and Billy was scheduled to take watch that night. While the parents and Debbie, who was a bit younger, stayed back at Cullum Hall, Billy, Kate, Suzi and I headed over to Eisenhower Hall (aka Ike Hall) to find someone to cover Billy's shift for the evening. There was a cafe/ bar at Ike Hall where the cadets congregated. While Billy was busy finding a replacement, Suzi and I were in teenage girl heaven gawking at the fine young specimens of manhood. Suddenly, the lights flickered off and on. Billy told us this was a signal that meant closing time. It was early in the evening, so the cadets were confused, but obediently began making their way to the exits. As we were leaving, two young men ran up to Billy and said, "Excuse me, sir. We couldn't help noticing that you seem to have too many ladies to escort. We would be happy to assist you by escorting these two (indicating Suzi and me)." There was a dance that evening and they asked if we would like to join them. We looked at Billy with what I'm sure were pleading eyes, who replied, "We'll have to ask the folks."

So we did and, naturally, they said yes. Who wouldn't allow their daughter to be escorted by a fine upstanding member of the Corps of Cadets, with their strict rules about public displays of affection and their tradition of gentlemanly behavior? *cough cough*

The two plebes were handsome, to be sure, and Suzi and I had noticed them earlier. Suzi had a fondness for the blond, while I found the brown-eyed gent perfectly dreamy. Too bad they didn't see it our way. Oh well. Their choices were made obvious as they took our hands, neatly tucked them into the crook of the elbow, and led us off to the dance--which was a bust. The academy had invited ladies from a nearby women's college* so there were lots of single women and lots of chaperones (not the least of which was my sister who was doing her best to bring the Holy Spirit between me and my date). We headed back to Ike Hall, which hadn't closed early after all. Turns out the cadets just wanted to meet us, knew the guy in charge and asked him to flip the lights so they could have an excuse to escort us somewhere. Awwwww. I know, it got me all kinds of giddy.

My date, one Phillip Eric Anderson, was from Oklahoma and as sweet as they come. His friends back home called him Sweet Pea because of his initials. Suzi's date, his last name was Wolf, looked like the kind of boy who was up to no good. Public displays are forbidden and cadets are supposed to escort their dates in the traditional crooked arm pose (think wedding cake topper). Punishment for PDAs included marching around the large quad area, called "walking the yard." This did not stop the menfolk from getting a little frisky in the shadows. As we walked across campus, any shady area was an excuse to drop the arm into hand-holding position or to sneak a smooch. My very first real kiss was with my handsome cadet behind a statue of some famous general. Many more followed.

Curfew came too soon and the cadets brought us back to our parents, who were happily playing cards all night long. Mrs. Kuchinski (Billy's mom) invited the men to join us the next day for a picnic by the river. Suzi's date had to work, but Phil readily agreed. Um....I was kind of hoping he wouldn't. You see, he was cute and all, but even at 15 I had commitment issues and would have been happy to just leave it at that one night. Oh well, it's just an afternoon.

So, after mass and a champagne breakfast (woo hoo! guess who got a little tipsy?), we drove down to a picnic area by the Hudson River. Phil showed up right on time and he was perfectly adorable. What I really enjoyed about West Point was the respect commanded by just wearing the uniform and the respectful way the cadets treated others. Phil, Debbie and I took a walk up the river and around the campus and everywhere we went, picnickers and hikers said hello; some even invited us to join them. Phil and I held hands whenever we could, which wasn't often but still often enough. At lunch, Phil held my hand under the table, which had my mother in a fit of giggles. Also, he was telling a story about his apartment back home and how he had a "huge 36 inch (pause to swallow) oak table." The pause was too much; I got stuck on the "huge 36 inch" part and giggled, which made my mother kick me under the table. After lunch, we all toured the museum and the library on campus before it was time to say goodbye.

Dusk was beginning to fall, casting long shadows across the yard. Just before climbing into the car to leave, I leaned in and planted a lingering kiss on Phil's lips in plain view of several officers. I think I was worth a few trips around the quad.

Epilogue: Phil and I corresponded for a short time until I received a letter from him that was just filled with declarations of true love. Really? You knew me for two days, pal. I wrote back that I was not really looking for that kind of relationship and never heard from him again. Poor Sweet Pea. I broke his heart.

*Women had only been admitted to West Point for four years at this time and their numbers were still very few, so they still had to import them.

Ferris Wheel of Ick (and other things that are catchy)

I was sick for pretty much two weeks before the cough finally left. I still had residual scratchiness and my voice was kind of off, but otherwise I felt fine. Others in the office ran the gamut of sickness as well, but as of last Friday, the day before the fundraiser, all were feeling fine. Then, we ran around all day without coats, and while it was warm in the afternoon, by evening it was darn chilly. On Monday, Mirna, who sat next to me all night Saturday, announced she wasn't feeling great. Tuesday, she had a slight cough. Yesterday, she went home early and called back at 4:00 to say she'd be out today. Today, I woke up with a little roughness in swallowing. Drat! Will it never end? Every time I feel better, someone else is sick and spreading their Ick to the whole office.

I also woke up 15 minutes before I was supposed to be at work, which is 30 minutes away. Uh, I was dressed and out the door in 10 minutes and only slightly late to work, thanks to my extensive use of back roads. Fortunately, one of the gift bag items from Saturday's event was Activate water, which we still have tons of in my office. I grabbed a bottle of Energy (with yerba mate and other fine extracts) and later a bottle of Immunity (with vitamin C, echinacea and zinc). I'm feeling fine now, and hopefully I can continue to ward off the evil spirits.

Know what else I'm hoping to ward off? Babies! One of our directors has a 3-month old son, and now there are three more women in our office expecting, all just about the same number of weeks along, not to mention a few offsite ladies in the family way. Apparently, pregnancy is contagious. Who knew? Now I know that certain events are necessary to become pregnant (Shut up! It could happen.), but I am not taking any chances and have been careful not to get too close to these gals. Maybe it's something in the water?