Crown Brush Rocks

I can't believe I haven't blogged since April!! And now I am inspired by makeup brushes, lol. Anyway, that this sort of symbolic of ny life right now, SO. The point of this blog is to tell you that I only, ONLY use Crown Brushes. Kandee Johnson recommended them, and got a special deal, I think in 2010, around Christmas. I bought a pro set and that is all I use. I need a few more just because when you have something great, YOU WANT MORE. ;) So, Thanks Crown Brush. And pick me!! #crownbrush

An Imagined Life

If you had not died, you would be 44 now. Because you aren't here, I have always thought about endings, and what we missed. I did not get to know you mother to mother. You didn't get to meet my girls, and I didn't get to talk to you about how frustrating and great husbands can be. We missed a lot. But recently I thought that I can decide to give you (in my mind) any type of life that I want. And because you are in Heaven, maybe it's close to what you have. Maybe one day I'll see if I've got it right. So. You would have lived in in a house on a slight rise, leading down to a big pond at the bottom. Maybe in a valley. Somewhere kind of in the country, but not super way out. Your light gray house has a porch that goes all the way across the front, and has a swing and those metal chairs that bounce. Their are lots of plants, because you have studied and followed up on the horticulture interest that you showed when you worked at Opryland. On one side of your house is a fruit orchard with different trees, that you take care, but sometimes forget. We all do. In the evenings, you sit on your porch and listen to the bugs and eat ice cream. You would have maybe 2 horses, in a small stable, fairly close to the house. You would not want your animals far away because you would always want to hear if anything got to them. You always loved any animal, and will continue to do so. I imagine you would have lots of yard cats and a golden retriever. Some ducks and geese in the pond, and maybe some chickens. I think you would probably have had whatever animals your kids wanted in FFA, so a pig, or a calf, or maybe a sheep would likely be in residence. There may be some argument about whether the winning ribbons would hang in the living room or the owners bedroom, but that would get worked out. Inside your house. You never got past the initial "just starting out with not much" portion of your marriage, so it's harder to imagine what your married home would be like. I'd give you a warm home. Lots of rugs, pillows, throws, and comfy furniture. Chocolate browns, and blues, maybe a denim sofa. Definitely a stone fireplace. You would have family pictures and wildlife and nature prints on the walls. It would definitely be a house where people actually lived. I imagine your kitchen would be a little lighter, maybe some creams and green. With a big butcher block table and a milk glass chandelier. The perfect place for a late night card came. Your kitchen would be a working space, but where you did what you needed to do for love. Some people LIVE in their kitchen, you were not really that type, but you liked to cook. I still doctor my Campbells potato soup the way you taught me when I was 11. Your fridge would be papered with everything your kids handed you, notes, receipts, pictures, recipes, whatever. Then there would be your family. Your husband would work hard, and then come home to the simple life that he wanted. Dinner, maybe walk down to the pond to fish for a little bit. You would mainly be a homemaker, but with a lot of side interests. Maybe some volunteer animal work, or something like that. Some days, dinner might be grilled cheese and everyone would be ok with that. You are not Donna Reed, and they know that and love you more for it. Your oldest son is hard to talk about, because he IS here. He is great. I do think he would be a different person if you had not left, though. He is very technical, but does like some of the things you did, so you are still here. Your youngest son would be a boys boy. A tree climber, bike rider, scabbed up dirty handed boy. But he would still have a sweet side, and would defend his mother to the ground. And because this is my imagination, you're having a girl. She will be sweet, but tough. A tree climber in a dress, with a dog and a doll at her side. You will raise them all to have roots and wings, just like the cheesy plaques say to. But you really mean it. You laugh all the time at their sillyness. As for you, there are only a few days when it feel like you sold out. Not going to college. Not becoming a vet. You went down another road, where the scenery was not as glamorous, but the gas was a lot cheaper. Having a family does make you happy. And you don't have to worry about how your house will be too big for just the two of you once the kids have gone, because you are already gone.

Not A Cop Wife

For most of my adult life, I was a police officer's wife. That was a title, no, a job that I was PROUD to have. I took it very seriously. I did it well. I did not complain (well, not often) about the time away, the missed holidays, the pagers in the middle of the night, the bad moods when calls went wrong, and the whole political circus that goes along with law enforcement. I handled the chickies that follow men in uniform, the nicest nickname of which is "badge-bunnies", the rest, I won't print here, but make me blush. That was not really an issue for me because Ray is not that kind of guy, and I trust him. He does not even notice when I am flirting with him, much less a stranger! Then the wreck happened and things changed. We tried to take things in stride. He recovered, and went back to work. His first night back in uniform I was so, so proud. I had no doubt he could do his job. It did not work out. Nothing work related, but that is another story for another day. So he went to another department. Again it did not work out. We are trusting God that Ray is just not meant to be in law enforcement any longer. And that means that I am no longer a cop's wife. He had to learn a new trade, and is adapting well. So while I feel like I can totally support Ray in learning a new career, I DO NOT know how to be a crane mechanics wife! There is no cool club. No T-shirts. It is what it is. If I did not work in law enforcement myself, I think I would lose my mind. It is addicting, this whole helping people thing. You really can't walk away.

Time. You Greedy B&$*#C!

18 months. That's about how long before my oldest child will be leaving my house for college. At least that's the plan. I don't know if it is the loss we experienced this past year or what, but it all seems like a snowball going down a really steep hill. I have always internally laughed at people who talked about how fast their kids grew up, and thought "Yeah whatever. You are whining because you can sleep whenever you want, your groceries are where you left them, and you do 2 loads of laundry a week? Get over yourself." But now I find myself wanting to stuff my youngest into a toddler bed because it's cute. The oldest is on her way, so I can't stop that, but maybe I can stop the youngest? No? Dammit. Anyway. I find myself frequently frustrated at my job, especially when dealing with kids. Well, not really the kids, but their parents. It seems to me that a lot of parents today have forgotten that their job is to RAISE their children to be adults. It's a process. Not just to keep them alive until they magically become great people, but to teach them how to be productive citizens. This involves skills that do have to be taught. And when parents are lazy, they then want the police, or teachers, or anybody else to fix their children, and that ticks me off! I don't claim to be the perfect parent by any stretch. We are feeling our way, and making mistakes just like many others. But we are present and actively raising our girls. And as hard as it is and as frustrating as it can be, sometimes I do get panicky thinking that in just a few short years it will all be over. It really does go too fast.

I Want To Love Like An Italian Mother

My heritage is a bit Heinz 57. I have German, Polish, American Indian, and who knows what else. While each of these have their perks, except for the Polish, which all I can tell is joke fodder (sorry Granny), what I'd like to be is Italian. At least in two aspects.
One aspect is food. Duh. Who doesn't love Italian food? Anyone who has seen Under The Tuscan Sun, or read the book which is even better, would want to be an Italian cook. And eater of Italian food. And not just pasta. Get a real Italian cookbook and read it, for FUN.
But the main reason I would like to be Italian is the way Italian mothers love. They love outrageously. Loudly. Obnoxiously. All the time, over the top, squeezing til their little heads almost pop off. But the thing is, their children never ever doubt that they are loved. I have struggled with showing physical affection to my children as they have gotten older. As babies, no problem. As teenagers, WTH?! My mother was just not that way with me, and is not now. My sister and I don't hug each other often. My grandmother was not physically demonstrative with my mom or my aunts, as far as I can remember. This was never a reflection of whether she loved them, or how much. She loved them ferociously, just as I know my mom loves us. They were just not taught to show it with hugs and kisses beyond childhood. It's not like it was forbidden or anything like that, it just wasn't done. Unless you were leaving the house. For some reason, my kids are sort of like puppies. They want you to wrestle, and hug, and drape themselves on me like a polyester shirt. And it bothers me that that bothers me sometimes. I want to relish that physical affection and return it. And squeeze them until their little heads pop off. Just like an Italian mama would. But for now, as with many other things, I will have to settle for recognizing what in my life doesn't work the way I want it to, and fix it. So I hug my puppies and tell them I am proud of them, and when I have had enough, I grab them by the neck and put them in their kennels..... er, rooms.

How My Life Is A Country Song-- A Good One

Yesterday, a few girlfriends and I took a BADLY needed mental health day off. We loaded up the boat with some drinks, snacks, cd's, and off we went to the river. All kids were accounted for for the entire day, no curfews for the mommies! It was a beautiful day, no traffic on the water. It was perfect.

Until.

We went to move from one location where we had stopped, to another to pickup another girlfriend, and uh, oh. No GO! Batry dead, as we say here. Thus began the odyssey of the return trip. I will summarize thusly: 6 episodes of being towed, 411 attempts to crank a dead batry ('cause dammit, Tammy is no quitter), $20 cash, and a gas can that the 2 guys could have easily split with but didn't (bless you Brandon wherever you are), multiple cases of indecent exposure (and a few of them weren't even Amy!), and some minor trespassing. Greater fun could not have been had!

I was reminded yesterday again how very, very special friends are. I think we can take them for granted if we are not careful because they are just there. But we need to nurture each other and our friendships more. These are the women who are there for me. And I hope I have been and will continue to be there for them. Our spouses are awesome, no doubt, but these relationships need attention sometimes too. Even if they do have to come tow us out of the river in the dark!

Reflections-- Yep, I'm doing that too.

Today is the 6 year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. And while my story is way less dramatic than some, partts of it are still way too personal to get into yet. Let's just say that I did not lose anyone, my house is intact, FEMA and Farmers Insurance did what they were supposed to for me, and anyhting beyond that is cake.

Some of the things I did learn:
1. If you pull the string out past the first part of resistance, even a girl can start a huge generator. (Thanks, Dego!)
2. Beer pays electric workers.
3. Park your car on your neighbors property. Park theirs on yours, homeowners insurance does not cover yours, but will cover someone elses if a tree falls on it.
**Not responsible for results for legal advice** LOL
4. Car alarms get really annoying after approx 3 hours. 2 hours, ok.
5. MRE hamburgers are the worst. The dog won't eat them.
6. Pull over to cry. Don't do both when there are trees in the road.
7. When hanging your undies on the fence to dry, check for squirrels FIRST.
8. Shampoo smells awesome when you don't have any for a few days, so don't be surprised when people are following you around sniffing you. (right Lynn?)
9. Some days, you just have to cry, and then move on. That's ok.
10. The limit for how long the motorcycle can stay in the kitchen is 30 days. I made this one up.

These rules are flexible for any natural disaster, and can be modified as needed. Hoping our neighbors on the east coast are well.:)