Funerals and other parties

I want my funeral to be a big party. After all, I’ll be 103 and I’m pretty sure people will have an easier time with that whole letting go process. My 50 year old blind lover will probably take it the hardest but he’s still young and quite fit so I don’t doubt he’ll find someone else in time. Hmmm, my daughters will be around 70 and their kids will be probably in their 40’s; he could go either direction. That’s kinda gross and a little twisted. Oh well, I’ll be dead, I won’t care.

A bunch of years ago I started planning my funeral party in my head. Just for fun. It revolved around music, food & laughter…and my body over there in the corner for viewing and making snarky comments. Even though I know I will be at my funeral party and probably affect some sort of shenanigans, it made me a little sad that it would just be my spirit. And family & friends that are older than me and a bunch that are younger will already have died.

Sidenote: I’ve had conversations with the funeral director in town and he said it’s never too early to start planning your funeral so if anyone thinks I’m weird for thinking about this, well, I’m not. I’m normal, dammit!

So anyway, when Gary and my 25th wedding anniversary was looming on the horizon my brain also became aware that I would be turning 50 that year (Yay for the Golden Year; break out the bottle of Goldschlager!). If these aren’t two huge reasons not to have a party, I don’t know what is! You may already be dead if you don’t agree. It was at that moment that a huge 3000 watt light bulb went on over my head. My world became crystal clear…I WAS going to be at my funeral party…in the flesh. It would be the perfect trial run (only with a live person, not a dead one…and probably a lot cheaper). We were going to celebrate with family & friends, right now, while we’re all alive!

The party took place and it was wicked good fun! It revolved around music, food & laughter and just like any big party you obsess about and take over a year to plan, it was over in the blink of an eye. The first half of the party celebrated our 25 years of marriage with a loosely-based ceremony & food. The music & dancing was all about me; my birthday gift to myself with family & friends. The funeral party trial run was a grand success and I haven’t done any funeral planning for myself since. I’m glad I was able to party with the people I love…in the flesh. I danced all night until I could barely walk. Good Times! I appreciate all the people who came to my ‘funeral party.’ Thank you!

Our daughters walked us up the ‘aisle’

Our ceremony was way more fun and a lot less serious this time. My sweet eldest sister officiated (she’s ordained on the Internet…how fun is that?!) and we had a ceremony for our girls and gave each of them a Tree of Life pendant

Happy 25th to us!

We started off the dance with an anniversary dance

And then…it was all about me!

Happy Father’s Day Dad…Olive You!

I paid my dad a visit today. I was going to make it official on Sunday but it was a beautifully sunny day so why wait for potential rain to muck things up. I brought him one of his favorite gifts…a jar of olives, the queen size olives! He loved eating olives but my mom always yelled at him if he ate the ones in the cupboard that were reserved for holidays, when guests came. I always thought that was a silly rule; same as the one where you don’t use ‘the good silverware & dishes’ for every day. So I broke the rule (I do that sometimes) and bought him big jars of queen size olives for any special occasion I could think of…and mom wasn’t allowed to have any control over them. He got pretty excited over having his own jar of olives. It didn’t take much to please my dad.
My dad was quite a talker and storyteller. It could be why I likewise have a tendency to talk a great deal. Today we were both pretty quiet. I toasted him with the jar of olives; a thank you for what a great job he did helping mom raise me. Then I silently ate olives while memories of my life with him ran through my head like a black & white filmstrip. The tears come with the understanding that there will be no more hugs & kisses, no more sharing our humor & stories, no more tender moments of dad’s love. It’s quite a conundrum, this sense of loss despite the feeling that he hasn’t left my side.

I watched the busyness of the ants for a while streaming across the fresh dirt and across my legs. I poured some of the olive juice over the grave and told dad I loved him and then I did what any self-respecting gardener would do…I picked the weeds out of the dirt. It’s all nice and tidy again waiting for the grass to grow back in. I’m not much of a grave visitor, I think everyone should be cremated, but maybe just for now, maybe Sunday, flowers would look nice on that little patch of dirt.

UPDATE: It’s the next day, Saturday the 15th, and #3 and I have gone shopping for supplies each of us need for our overseas adventures. We finally stopped for lunch; our stomachs had become quite unruly with their growliness. While we were waiting for our food the Kansas song Dust in the Wind started playing, to my surprised enjoyment. “Hi Dad, glad you could have lunch with us!” He loved going out to eat, always asking us to go along. “I’ll pick up the tab this time Dad. Thanks for coming along.”

Have passport…time to rock & roll!

With the prospect of 3 of my kids leaving the country for study abroad this summer in Mexico, Ireland, Germany & Spain; it became somewhat necessary that I ought to get a passport for myself. While at city hall last Fall, with #3 to apply for her passport, the elderly lady taking care of us highly recommended, “…at least one parent should also have a passport because, well, on the off chance you need to leave quickly to the country your child is in.” Mrs. Elderly Lady was trying to be discreet in her implication but we both knew what she was saying. “Lalalalalalalalalalalalala…I’ve been trying NOT to think about that scenario, thank you very much! How about rephrasing that into something a little more positive, like, “Hey! Now the 10-year passport clock is ticking for you to get your keester to Ireland!” My ancestors have been patiently calling to me since before I can remember, wondering when I’m coming back to the motherland.
So a month before #1 headed off to Mexico I finally applied for my passport; my initial baby step to Ireland.

The day after my Dad’s funeral I received my passport in the mail. How very appropriate, Dad. After all, I did tell him I was going to bring him to Ireland. But by the time he died my heart was numb and my life had changed in a weird discombobulated way. I had already formulated a list of why I wouldn’t be able to go. It was the customary list of ridiculousness that most people have in these scenarios. Enter…my guardian angels; they got the ball rolling again in my head. A couple close goddess friends of mine exchanged all the excuses I had created with reasons of why I had to make the trip. And then my niece entered the picture…

My niece sat across from me by the side of my Dad’s hospital bed when I announced my intentions on taking him to Ireland. The seed was planted and three weeks later she became the catalyst that propelled us to take the leap. She turned into a rabid lioness who stalked me day & night via e-mails, texts & phone calls with plans for going to Ireland. Meanwhile, my SweetPea was paying attention quietly in the background to the drama unfolding. Unbeknownst to him, he was an important key player in my final decision. We don’t tell each other what to do or not to do and that has worked out pretty slick in our many years of marriage. But if he had not been on board with all of this or had not been happy for me…it would’ve been a deal breaker. He’s still able to surprise me with how immeasurable his love is for me.

I’M GOING TO IRELAND!

I’m trying to contain myself by directing my energy on the every day stuff and the rites of passage my kids are making. I’m focused on #1 leaving for Mexico and returning safely home as #4 leaves for her own adventures in Ireland. The excitement of seeing her online pictures makes me a wee bit giddy of what’s to come. In three more weeks #3 heads to Spain and #4 will be in Germany; then the countdown begins for my trip of a lifetime. Not to be outdone, #2 will also be accompanying my niece and me to Ireland. It doesn’t seem real yet. So, along with the wait for my Dad’s death to finally hit home, I will be waiting for the excitement of Ireland to take hold. Somehow it feels like the two will be going hand in hand. And I smile inside at the bittersweet appropriateness of it all.

I promise you I will learn from my mistakes

Life is an unending succession of learning. People come into your life and sometimes it’s, “What the hell were my lessons supposed to be in all THIS?!” Hopefully you figure it out so you can let them go and carry on with life. But sometimes the people who come into your life are the ones with a lifetime of lessons for you because they’re your parents. The past couple of years the lessons thrown my way have been confusing and difficult; life’s version of tragicomedy. Thank goodness for my dark-humor gene that keeps me going when life is less than fun.

My dad. My dad gives unconditional love. No matter what you needed; whenever or wherever…he was there for you. He never judged you even when you did really stupid stuff and, just like me, he has a wicked sense of humor. My earliest memories of him embrace his gift of music. He would play his guitar and sing in the upstairs hall when we were wee tots trying to go to sleep. I loved listening to him sing. Our camping adventures always included him & his guitar with music & singing around the campfire. Good times. I respected him a lot while growing up.

I remember the first time during a post college conversation when I thought, “Wow dad, you’re a really intelligent man but I totally disagree with you on some of your views.” I have no idea what we were talking about but I laugh now at how I felt; with my disillusionment that my dad was no longer ‘perfect.’ It’s good to let your parents be human with flaws…which brings me to the current life lesson. Parent’s become elderly and ancient…roles get reversed, even if you go into it kicking and screaming like a two year old.

I was still raising my own kids when it started. The ancient’s mental age seemed to regress. At one point it felt like they were the same age as my teenagers. They needed guidance but were stubborn with my sage words of wisdom. Advice they should be following but not doing. Thank god my kids had already taught me how to let go of the people you love. It’s their life and their life lessons. It can be painful watching them learn the hard way but…it’s their life, not yours. I’m a strong believer in consequences and what they can teach you. My dad’s refusal to take care of himself for health’s sake has ended him up in the hospital, long term.

The steady decline of his physical & mental health has been nerve-wracking to say the least. I did not and do not like the role of being parent to my parents; much like the early years of parenting when you want to pull your hair out. Thank god for Gary. He tag teams with me and when I’m ready to have a meltdown he takes over so I can decompress or cry. I had a hard time accepting that my parents are no longer the people who raised me. It was a hard lesson to learn and move on. Yesterday I learned another valuable lesson.

My anger at my dad has been transferred to the medical personnel that don’t know how to fix him anymore because their drugs no longer work. As a natural healer, I want vitamins & minerals put back into a body that is probably deficient at this point of a necessary balance for a human body to function properly. That won’t happen in a hospital. Natural remedies could heal what the drugs can’t. They don’t do natural. I can’t do anything about it so I have to let go. It hasn’t been easy, it’s been painful. I don’t want to be angry anymore with the man my dad has become. I still love him. I finally realized that after a lifetime of taking care of his large family, he wanted to be taken care of. The sad part is, the route he chose is killing him…slowly. I’m no longer angry with him. I’ve had time away while other family is taking over so I have breathing room to think…and let go.

I love you dad. Thank you for all you’ve taught me.

My heart aches for my sweet baby Stellaluna

Most people don’t know it but I actually gave birth to Stellaluna on December 4, 1999. You may not believe it, even I didn’t know, until that moment on a cold winter night. Our new puppy needed to go outside for the umpteenth time for a potty break. I’m standing outside with her, dressed in my black & white tennis shoes, black pants, black leather coat with a fur lined hood and my brown hair blowing around my face. After she finishes, she toddles over to me, crawls onto my shoes, curls into a ball and looks up at me. At that moment I realized that to her I actually WAS her mother…and since then she was a momma’s girl through and through.

Stellaluna & Echo 001

Her best friend, Zoe, came to us 2 years later and they became inseparable. They sounded like race horses when they chased each other around the yard. We tried landscaping one year and gave up afterwards. Our design areas seemed to always overlap with their play areas. I loved just watching them play together. Zoe got cancer when she was six and Stella never got over the loss of her. I felt so sorry for her.

It’s been hard the last 2 years to watch Stella slowly get old. Her joints gave her grief and the meds seemed to only give mild relief. She would get anxious whenever I’d leave and not eat. I recently found out that when I would go to work she would lay in the chair by the window all day until I came home. Sometimes she would howl in a soft, low, eerie way that freaked out the kids. Her love for me was intense and sometimes overwhelming yet unconditional. Our love for each other was deep. I feel sorry for people who never experience the love of a pet.

When we came home last night Stella was in the back hall, sitting but in a goofy way. She had urinated and when I helped her stand up realized that her back end was paralyzed. All my fears of this moment hit me full force. We called the 3 girls that don’t live at home and then waited for #2 & PoohBear who were 5 minutes from returning home. We decided on an emergency room in the city that #3, #4 & my eldest sister live in so they could be there; #1 lives too far away. We spent an hour with Stella, petting her, crying, reminiscing of all the wonderful memories we have because of her. I’m so grateful that I have Gary, my girls, my sister, my family…and the Simply Sleep sleeping pills that kept me asleep all night.

I’ll miss how her mouth would go up into a smile when I would come home and her obvious joy that I was back. I’ll miss her companionship. I’ll miss her meeting me at the door. I’ll miss her on our camping trips. I’ll miss all the things that have become habit with her & me. I know she’s with me. I wish it didn’t have to hurt so much. I know she was in pain…and now she’s not. I know she’s with Zoe and they’re racing & happy again. It’s just all so bittersweet…

I love you so much Stellaluna.
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I’ve never had a time in my life that there wasn’t a dog in it. I loved all of them and each was special in their own way but Stella was the closest thing I can imagine to having a soul mate in a dog. My heart feels that she will be the last dog for me. So thank you for the unconditional love Stella, Zoe, Madison, Minka, Gypsy, Brandy, Pixie & Katie.

Carry On…

I received the ultimate compliment from a teacher the other day. She said she wished she could spend more time around me because I’m always smiling and ‘spreading cheer’ throughout the school. I told her that even if I’m having a bad day, the kind you wish you could spend in a dark room under the covers, it always turns around when I’m at school with the kids & staff because there’s so much positive energy here. It’s great therapy!

One example happened this week Tuesday. I was with my first group of kids, 8:10 in the morning. Before we got started on their reading work I chatted with them about their Easter weekend. I questioned them if they knew that candy has sugar in it and that, blech-gross, they shouldn’t eat it. The reaction I get from the kids is always entertaining. The conversation worked its way around to age and I asked them, “Well, how old do you think I am?” The first boy, “Somewhere in your 30’s.” Second boy agreed, “Yeah, you’re in your 30’s.” The third boy must’ve noticed my eyebrows rise & the smirk in the corner of my mouth, “You’re 40.” The last kid and only girl said, “I think you’re 36.”

I told them what any old sane woman would say, “I LOVE you guys! I love each and every one of you and if I had candy I would give it to you!” (Yeah, I know, sugar is poison…blah, blah, blah). Then I told them that I was really 53. *insert dead silence & the sound of crickets* I wish my eyes could take pictures; it was a Kodak moment. The shocked look in their eyes & their open mouths seemed to say, “And, and you’re still alive?!” The girl was the first to speak, “You don’t look that old at all!” Which I replied, “And YOU are my favorite!”

I love working with the kids; I love the interactions with the staff. I love my job.

And then I have to go home.
And deal with responsibilities in life that just aren’t fun; stuff that’s emotionally draining.
And during a moment last night of just letting some of the emotion out through my tears, the Universe (via my favorite radio station) reminds me…

…to carry on.

We all have hard-hitting crap happen in our life that tests us. I remind myself that some people have it so much worse than what I’m experiencing. It doesn’t make my problems go away but it does make me think of all that I’m grateful for. I like my life. I especially love having fun & laughing so I do it every chance I get; it balances out the sad times where you just have to take a lot of deep breaths, cry (to wash away the toxic chemicals) and carry on…which I believe most of us do very well given the circumstances.

And that’s why I seem to be happy all the time to some people. I’m not always happy…but the alternative isn’t nearly as fun.

Now where’s that little vixen hiding?

HAPPY SPRING EQUINOX!!!
Hey!
Where are you?
Byam Shaw Rising Spring
Byam Shaw “Rising Spring”

She’s just harder to see with the blanket of snow covering her but she IS under there…somewhere
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Okay, I admit…I love winter…I love the pretty snow…but even I was hoping for a balmy 30 40 degrees and a lot less snow.
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So here’s my ray of sunshiney hope. Hang on to your sanity, if not for the sake of yourself, do it for the apples. Last year this time while we were shaving off our gorilla growth to wear shorts & t-shirts again, Mother Nature was budding out into the false security of spring. And because we live in the Midwest…what happened next? We froze our butts right back into our winter coats! And all the produce that was blossoming out froze. No apples on our trees AND other produce died a horrible flash frozen early death. I’m not keen on how much my apples are costing us right now.

For those of you that are going to respond with, “Blah, blah, blah, blah!” here’s a nice video with warm weather pictures.

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That’s me lucky charms…they’re magically delicious

I love St. Patrick’s weekend, it’s a happy little holiday.

I love, love, love Irish music! The fast, loud stuff makes all the cells in my body dance like whirling dervishes; the quiet stuff makes me calm and soulful. Either way, their affect creates happiness for me! After last night’s celebration I decided I’m going to have to move to Ireland for a year. There just aren’t enough Celtic bands around here; great sadness (& I’m pretty sure Ireland would have a whole bunch of people who could teach me how to really play my bodhran drum). So for now I’m gearing up for the Irish Fest celebrations this summer to get my next fix of the good stuff and continue to improve on my ceili dance steps. I can’t wait!!!


Byam Shaw “Rising Spring”

I love Irish beer & whiskey. Usually I drink them straight up & separate from each other. This year my sister-in-law was with me and she insisted (strongly) that we have an Irish Car Bomb. So after I had a couple of my token Guinness’ we moved on to shots. A good idea? Hard to say at this point so let’s wait and see. Not a lover of the Irish Car Bomb. Let’s analyze. Exploding cars don’t promote happiness…I like to promote happiness. If people would drink their beer & whiskey separate like I do maybe there wouldn’t be exploding cars in Ireland. Just sayin.’ Then we tried a Nutty Irishman…sweet & tasty! At this point I decided I wanted to try all the Irish drinks/shots on their menu. Next up was The Sheriff of Nottingham. I told the bartender (from Ireland with his cute little accent) that the sheriff was a naughty guy so the shot was changed to The Sheriff of Naughtyham. For being naughty it tasted rather nice.

I took a break at this point and switched to water where I became *poof* instantly sober again. That’s my story. I’m stickin’ to it. This is the point in the night that I found out that the rugged man in the kilt was wearing only his lucky charms underneath. I love kilts. Let’s all raise a glass for the kilt!

One more shot to go…The Slippery Leprechaun. It was creamy golden deliciousness! I rinsed the sweetness out of my mouth with a glass of Smithwick’s and more water before we left for home. It was a great night of music, friends & fun (& a lot of sober giggling).

In the dark quietness of our bedroom:
Me, “We need to move to Ireland for a year. I’ll do my energy healing & you can fix people’s stuff.”
Gary, “Okay.”

Betsy, Elizabeth & Tebazilena smiled, did a happy jig…and fell asleep.

Welcome to…my Twilight Zone

I talk a lot.
Not all the time, sometimes I’m actually quiet, but for the most part I like talking.

I had a number of people comment on Facebook that my posts were fun to read but more like blog posts because they were so long (It was a happy day when Facebook stopped limiting how many characters a status post could be). A blog seemed a lot easier than the supposed book the Universe has planned for me to write. So, I read Blogging for Dummies, consulted a blogger friend, and procrastinated because somehow blogging felt more like a commitment & I wanted to do it ‘properly.’ With the well wishes of my Facebook community I started a blog. The safety of my Facebook family to the world wide web of Blogdom without a safety net. It’s been a few months now since I started. And, well, it feels as though I’ve entered…the twilight zone.

It’s a totally different world out here in Blogdom. In Facebook land, it’s kind of like sitting in a living room and friends pop in to hang out and talk. Conversations sometimes banter back & forth as if you are actually with each other. I’ve had some hilarious interactions even when comments are written hours or days apart.
In Blogdom, I’m still Queen Elizabeth of my domain (blog humor) but I feel as though the comfy living room couch is sitting in the middle of the vastness of space. Hello…Hello…Hello. Is anybody out there?!…Is anybody out there?!…Is anybody out there?!

I’ve decided to set up my living room on the Milky Way because there are lots of lights and it’s pretty…pretty darn quiet (I made sure it wasn’t near a black hole. Those bastards will literally suck you up and not spit you out). Betsy wanted to run back to the sanctuary of Facebook and the camaraderie of friends. Elizabeth & T have discussed the melancholy of our experience so far and decided we’re staying put. It’s harder to be funny on command with the expectation that you ‘should’ post every 3 days. It’s hard to post humor when life just isn’t funny sometimes. Blogging is not what we thought it would be so we’re rethinking how we view it.

We’re letting go of the instant gratification that Facebook can be. Instead, we’ll assume it’ll just be the 3 of us discussing life, and if some manner of ‘wild life’ happens in…all the merrier! Tebazilena wants to change the setting to an ancient forest clearing. She likes being grounded (not for being naughty…that’s Elizabeth’s forte). Elizabeth’s stringing white lights in the trees and Betsy’s in charge of refreshments. We’ve downsized the party to a smaller, more intimate level…for now. This change shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ve entertained myself my whole life; I’m usually easily amused!
At least I seem to be ‘popular’ enough to get picked up by a Chinese spam site. We’re about as excited of that as we are with the Made in China stickers on virtually every bloody thing sold.

Life…she’s a bitch sometimes.

And yet, I still love her!

I understand that change is necessary. Sometimes the change brings relief and sometimes it just plain sucks getting through it. There are all sorts of quotes out there that apply the concept and remind us that usually the end results are in our favor. I agree, even if all that ever happens is relief, that the pain is over and done with. There have been quite a few times that it’s been months or years before I can make sense of what I experienced and the lessons I learned from it. There is always something to be learned or be grateful for.

The past couple years have been a lengthy lesson to the point that I’m just getting worn down from it all. I’ve learned a LOT about myself from it! Lately, I’ve consulted the Universe, my dog, the cats, Tarot cards, my dead relatives, the dust particles floating in the sunlight streaming in my living room by asking, “SERIOUSLY…what more am I supposed to be learning from all of this?!” Nobody’s gotten back to me yet, go figure. Thank god I’m stubborn in my own special way; it’s what’s going to get me through to normalcy again. I told Gary that this must be the female version of a mid-life crisis. I’ve always assumed only guys go through that mid-life crap…as it should be. He had some philosophical insights on my dilemma which all kind of made sense but it didn’t make it miraculously go away.

So. While I wait impatiently for the next lesson to magically appear (has anyone seen my freakin’ fairy godmother with her god-damn wand?), I’m going to:
1. Concentrate on honing my energy healing. I’ll be working on anyone/anything that moves. It’s too valuable of a skill to not put my heart & soul back into it. It’ll help balance me too…bonus!
2. Finish the stuff that needs to get done in the house.
3. Continue to have fun wherever I can find it!
4. Love myself unconditionally!

I don’t plan on life’s lessons ever ending. I’m always learning new things about myself and trying to change the things I don’t like or at least keep them in check. It’s kind of what makes life rather exciting (just not right now); knowing I’ll never have all the answers until I hit the hay for the last time.

Life sucks sometimes so we can appreciate the good times even more

Hello You

Isn’t she beautiful!

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Even when life is good…it can be confusing and difficult. I guess that’s what keeps me from getting complacent. That’s when I need nature, and quiet, and sometimes a good cry. I’m grateful that the full moon is always dependable in its calming effect on me.

It’s the Full Snow Moon tonight. I love snow.

Happy Birthday Valentine!

For the past couple decades February 14 included candy, hearts & flowers but more importantly it also meant having a birthday cake. Twenty some years ago I was looking forward to the fun of having an April Fools baby. The possibilities on crazy birthday parties were going to be endless. It was also going to be great fun making the birth announcements; I would embellish on the weirdness of it all. But April Fools babies also like to be little tricksters. A week before Christmas I started going into labor (the rest of the story is posted on http://elizabetsyt.com/?p=11). Seven weeks later #2 interrupted my hospital Tupperware party to make a grand entrance seven weeks before her due date. She surprised everyone in the hospital by staying hunkered down inside where she belonged for as long as she did. They called her a miracle…I call it down right stubbornness.
She’s all grown up now and making a life of her own with her boyfriend, Pooh Bear. He got that nickname because he’s dating #2 (let me know if you need that verified). She’s funny (gets that from me), works hard for what she wants, opens up to me more than most kids would, is compassionate and fiercely loyal to those she’s closest to. We have a strong heart connection and I love her to infinity.

Today my own Valentine came home, walked up behind my chair and said, “Close your eyes.” So I closed my eyes, swung around and opened my mouth (food perhaps?). I closed my mouth when I heard the zipper and then a laugh. “Hold out your hands.” When I opened my eyes I was holding a present! Wrapped in heart paper and everything! He even made a homemade card with heartfelt smut sentiments. The kid in me started unwrapping the present but he made me read the card first…typical adult. Red Hot Truffles! I LOVE Red Hot Truffles; they’re so chocolaty delicious & spicy…Mmmm. And not a 6 pack like I was going to get myself but a 15 pack! I’m going to try to eat only 3 a day. Thank goodness I’ll be gone for 4 days so they’ll last longer.
It quite possibly outranks the onyx & jade necklace that I bought for him to give me. I showed him last night what he bought for me and he’s impressed with how well he does getting me stuff I really like…every time! I much prefer our little buying arrangement, especially when it comes to jewelry. My family is under strict orders NEVER to get me something that is shown on the Jeweler commercials. Definitely not me.
So all in all it was a highly successful Valentine’s Day because not only did I get my spicy chocolates…I wasn’t the one who bought them. It’s the little things.

I cried like a baby whenever I heard this song while pregnant with #2

And then He* said, “You’re the tightest person I’ve ever had!”

Elizabeth had a big smile on her face and was all, “WooHoo,”** and giving the thumbs up sign. She would have start chanting “We’re number one! We’re number one!” if Tebazilena hadn’t knocked her on the side of the head, “Listen up numb-nut that is NOT a good thing!” Even Betsy, who momentarily had a smug smile about our being in some sort of ‘elite’ group, had to admit that when a massage therapist is overly impressed with your tightness, you did not win first prize. The only thing I won was a chance to help pay off a bunch more of her* bills and maybe some nice shoes with a matching purse. In the amount of time it may take for her to get my muscles all loosey-goosey again…maybe a trip to a tropical isle.
I tend to store my emotions on my left side which coinkadinky*** is the female side of the body. I asked Gary which side of his body do the muscles hurt more? What a surprise…the right. Every week SheRa P.o.P. has to rework my neck & upper back trying to get ahead of whatever it is I keep storing there. I have a lot more meditating to do to let go of my emotional baggage. Interestingly, my body is a mirror image to my house…a lot of stuff; ironic that I’m trying to downsize both.
One comment that SheRa says which makes us all quite proud is, “You pink up really nice!” In the massage world this means that my blood has good circulation. “WooHoo!” I’ll take whatever compliment I can knowing what wretched condition my muscles are in.

Okay, fast forward a few weeks from when I started writing this post.

SheRa has now moved from my upper bod and started working on the lower back mess. “You’ve got a tight ass!” “Why…thank you very much! I don’t normally let other people feel my ass.” Elizabeth does 3 backflips and is beaming with pride. Tebazilena started to remind us again that this isn’t a compli~Elizabeth slapped a muzzle on her before she could say it. Betsy asked, “Could you make it cute and perky like when we were 20?” “I’m not a miracle worker.” Well, actually she is but gravity seems to be the stronger villain here. On the upside, at least she didn’t say I WAS a tight ass. Having a tight ass sounds way better! And then she laughed at the irony that I’m naked on her table but wearing my socks (I was having a hot flash & she uncovered my feet). What can I say; my feet seem to always be cold & we like our snuggly socks. We talk about the coolest stuff!

*I was messing with you (my massage therapist, who is a woman, suggested I say he instead of she); I will call her SheRa, Princess of Power because she has incredible hands (& probably feet although I haven’t had her walk on me yet) and is very skillful with getting my muscles to do as they’re told.
** Cool words that spell-checker doesn’t know. It wanted me to replace WooHoo with Boohoo. Excuse me but that would mean the OPPOSITE of what I’m trying to convey. I should work with the word people and open their eyes up to all the words they’re missing out on. They must be boring people.
***Spell-checker didn’t even know what to do with this one. LOL, it’s probably still scratching its head.

I should lend her this CD. It would either soothe some of her clientele or freak ’em out.