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Showing posts from November, 2013

My Life Is a Lifetime Movie

Happy Seventh Anniversary, HoneyBunch. Being married to you is the easiest, most fun, and most magical time of my life.  I feel as if we have always belonged to each other; the forty-five combined years we spent with others fade into nothing when we are together.  I never knew what being truly in love was like until I married you. Baby, you complete me. You are my clone; my soul mate. Scary thought, but true. The person who was just a friend is . . . suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with. You know me better than I know myself.  I, of course, am the prettier one. It was the million tiny little things that when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together.  It is like . . . magic.  In the movie of our lives, you get to play Tom Hanks and I get to play Meg Ryan. I’m your density.  You know how to make laugh, how to make me happy, and how to encourage me. I am the only one who gets (and appreciates) your jokes.  I am here to care for you and make …

On November 22, 1963

Sister Mary Gisela was admonishing the eighth grade choir for not projecting loud enough when the Mother Superior of our Catholic school ran in and whispered something into her ear before running out again.
Sr. Gisela looked horrified, then she announced that our President had been shot.  We needed to kneel and pray for his recovery – now! 
She led us in prayer as we wrapped our minds around the incredulity that people existed in this world who would dare shoot a President.  
We remembered the celebration of the day before when President Kennedy had visited our city and the love we all felt for our charismatic, Catholic president.
Soon after, Mother Superior walked in again and we listened as she addressed us.  Our President was dead, killed by an assassin’s bullets. 
School was being called off and our parents were coming for us. 
I was too numb to cry. I was thirteen.  I didn't understand that such ugliness could exist in the world.  Not then.

Christmas Gift Exchanges

Last year, my three grown up kids asked if they could swap names and do a Christmas gift exchange.It was so successful that they decided to it again this year. We number fifteen now in our “immediate” family and that becomes a lot of individual Christmas presents to buy.  We all have blended families so my kids and I have other “immediate” family circles on our Christmas list. Believe me; the grandkids have done the math, and they may wish we hadn’t.  They are kids, after all, and they love getting stuff. They may not like what their parents decided, but I applaud their solution. As grandparents, HoneyBunch and I are not included in the name swap, but I have claimed myself the grandmother who always buys the grands a set of pajamas at Christmas.  I might throw in a snuggly or a book, but I stay away from anything more expensive or complicated. I’ll leave that for Santa (their parents or the other grandparents) to buy.  My present may not get oohs and aahs, but I want them to know I care…

Someday

When I told HoneyBunch that I am fast running out of time, he scolded me and called it nonsense.  He said if I take care of myself, I should live well into my nineties in good health. That is exactly my point – the road ahead is much shorter than the road I leave behind. HoneyBunch didn’t want to hear any more of my morbid thoughts, but then he is five years younger and is still in his fifties. He holds on to his youth as prudishly as a heroine holds on to her virginity in a Jane Austen novel. If I mention his graying hair or his bushy, grandpa eyebrows, he takes offense. His family putters well into their eighties; mine lives long too, but we sputter and backfire, requiring quite a few expensive tune ups and engine overhauls all the way. Our heredity and genetics differ, and I am glad for his sake.  I do not wish him the ailments that come with age for so many of us. I tried again to share with him my observation that my “someday” list is limited by the number of days left in my life…

No Pets, Thank You!

I respect any couple (or single person) who decides to be childless.Hey, breeding is not something one should do without serious study.It is quite a commitment. I feel the same way about acquiring a pet.  Don’t get me wrong, I love most of God’s creatures, except for those that might bite or sting me.  Okay, maybe also squishy and ugly things do not make my list. I am not immune to cute.  I “share” forward plenty of Facebook pictures of cute puppies and kitties, but I have lived long enough to know that the shelf life of cute is short, and the responsibility of having a pet is long. Cute wears off when the puppy grows up and digs up the landscaping in the back yard. Cute is not how I would describe a kitty who claws and scratches the few nice things you own. There is nothing cute about poop or piss or hairballs. Pets are expensive.  They have to be fed, taken to the vet, groomed, cleaned up after. You cannot go off on holiday without finding a sitter for Pooch or Tiger.  A visit to the…