It's pretty easy to meet people. Far more difficult to find a lifelong friend. There are times when the stars align just right and when it comes to good pals, this gal really got lucky. I attended a 50th birthday blow-out for my bud, Tim, this past weekend. Anyone who is anyone attended the St. Louian gala. Lights twinkled in the trees, glasses clinked, laughs were had in abundance and the local transplant list for livers in need probably lengthened by about 50.
It really moved me to see the outpouring of love that filled the rooms of Tim's rowhouse on Saturday. It made me proud to know him. I heard a lot of funny stories of days gone by, met many o' cousin (boy, those Catholics sure can breed) and the smile on his face was just about the nicest thing going. It is always amazing to see the difference that one little person can make in the lives of others, how fortunate we are to find these kind of peeps when we do and what a profoundly empty place there is in a heart that doesn't have them. We've had a grand 21 years together, he and I. And I'm grateful for every one of 'em. Rain or shine. In good times or bad. Always...always..being able to find something to laugh about.
This one's for you, Timmy. Scary hairdos and all. My apologies, as it does not come with a cork.
Relax. I did not drink while I was pregnant. We took that shot to freak my mom out.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
dim the lights
Rest in peace, Ms. Arthur. Thank you for being one of my heroes and inspiring me with your talent and chutzpah...especially for popping all those bubbles at a time when it was really somethin'.
Friday, April 24, 2009
the mighty pen
All children are my heroes. Each with their own clear voice and particular brand of magic. Whether it's the white palace or a trip to the moon, the dreams of our young ones are precious gold and I hope that we will do everything we can to enable this planet to nourish them. My prayer of prayers is that my babies will shine like this little girl and follow their path with the same courage and self- determination.
Right on, Tuba....
Right on, Tuba....
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
i want my money!
Don't let this happen to you...
Oh, and Ms. Helmsley? Don't worry. We little people will take care of it.
Oh, and Ms. Helmsley? Don't worry. We little people will take care of it.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
a cosmic wave
Well, boys and girls..the brand new, hot off the press photo gem below is what NASA calls a fantabulous x-ray nebula. Well, not so much the fantabulous part..that’s Mama’s descriptor. It’s official name is B1509. Uh, hello. What the Aeronautics & Space Admin. may lack in creative monikers, they make up for in a lot of PhD’s and really cool pics, I guess.
The center of this baby pulsar is a star, only twelve measly miles in diameter. It used to be a big bad sista back in the day but ended up running out of gas, so to speak, and collapsed in on itself. Kind of what happened to me after my 40th. It's new compact bod just happens to be spinning at seven times a second, thereby spewing some serious energy and blowing a mondo bunch of electrons and ions outward and away. Its surface magnetic field is 15 trillion times greater than ours. As this junk blows through this super charged mind-blower and bumps into a gas cloud or two, it radiates and creates some cool eye-candy for us humanoids.
Did I mention she’s a young 1700 years old, a mere 150 light years across and is shacking up about 17,000 light years from the good ole U.S. of A.? Those brainiacs at Chandra Observatory are peeing their pants about now. And me? I’m thinking the lousy lukewarm Starbucks latte I got this morning may not have really been that big of a deal afterall.
Really gotta hand it to ya, NASA...great shot. Ba dum dum.
The center of this baby pulsar is a star, only twelve measly miles in diameter. It used to be a big bad sista back in the day but ended up running out of gas, so to speak, and collapsed in on itself. Kind of what happened to me after my 40th. It's new compact bod just happens to be spinning at seven times a second, thereby spewing some serious energy and blowing a mondo bunch of electrons and ions outward and away. Its surface magnetic field is 15 trillion times greater than ours. As this junk blows through this super charged mind-blower and bumps into a gas cloud or two, it radiates and creates some cool eye-candy for us humanoids.
Did I mention she’s a young 1700 years old, a mere 150 light years across and is shacking up about 17,000 light years from the good ole U.S. of A.? Those brainiacs at Chandra Observatory are peeing their pants about now. And me? I’m thinking the lousy lukewarm Starbucks latte I got this morning may not have really been that big of a deal afterall.
Really gotta hand it to ya, NASA...great shot. Ba dum dum.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
lapin agile
Easter has arrived
Bunny’s whiskers twitch
He’s sniffing eggs from here and there
To find out which one’s which
Some are sweet
And some have color
Some twinkle like stars
None are like the other
There are six be told
That linger here
Emerald as the gemstone
They do appear
If you look with four eyes
And use two minds
Each girl will have three eggs
In their baskets to find
Two live in the room
That Dances with the Stars
And If you look quite carefully
More treats could be yours
Two more eggs abide in a place
Where Noggins collide
The last couple linger
Where sweet dreams abide
The Bunny is smart
He is old and he’s wise
Can you find his stash?
If you think you can...then you must try!
Mr. Rabbit had some damp fur for sure in his neighborhood travels this sweet rainy morning. Chocolate ears were nibbled and nails were painted while Mama slurped her java. I hope that you, too, find some magic this holiday weekend with those you love. All I can hope for is that we make it through the day without hanging ourselves from the bunk beds on our brand new Sister necklaces.
Bunny’s whiskers twitch
He’s sniffing eggs from here and there
To find out which one’s which
Some are sweet
And some have color
Some twinkle like stars
None are like the other
There are six be told
That linger here
Emerald as the gemstone
They do appear
If you look with four eyes
And use two minds
Each girl will have three eggs
In their baskets to find
Two live in the room
That Dances with the Stars
And If you look quite carefully
More treats could be yours
Two more eggs abide in a place
Where Noggins collide
The last couple linger
Where sweet dreams abide
The Bunny is smart
He is old and he’s wise
Can you find his stash?
If you think you can...then you must try!
Mr. Rabbit had some damp fur for sure in his neighborhood travels this sweet rainy morning. Chocolate ears were nibbled and nails were painted while Mama slurped her java. I hope that you, too, find some magic this holiday weekend with those you love. All I can hope for is that we make it through the day without hanging ourselves from the bunk beds on our brand new Sister necklaces.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
spring fever
Well, I made it out alive, folks. Just barely. Spring has sprung and my nine day tap-dancing-fire-eating-two-shows-nightly-and-don't-forget-to-tip-your-server extravaganza is over. Our long week involved a three hour hike over crevasse, waterfall & sandstone and an overnight visit to ole Kansas City for what could have been a little heavier on the blues and BBQ for this lady but ended up more Crown Center kiddo-pool oriented. Then with a couple of ear-splitting play dates thrown on top of that...things blossomed into a regular ole Spring Breakdown. Or a future 28 day dry-out at Hazelden....however ya want to look at it.
I had to crack up at the munchkins with their hiking sticks. They walked like little Trojans over those endless slippery Ozark rocks(as I twirl said mustache)...but slept like tiny blond angels that night. Just the way me likey. My thighs were quivering jello the next morning, when I finally made it to the kitchen, but it was fun and gave us an opportunity to venture out and see the area since most of the time I am trying to hide from it. Thank you, urticaria. There was a cave the locals call the Devil's Icebox...black as pitch and three stories deep but Mama picked up the pace and avoided this claustophobe's worst nightmare. W. begged me to let her see "the center of the earth", but I said nope and promised them a Barbie flashlight and a couple of Wal-Mart parkas for next time. Yeah, right.
It wasn't an over water bungalow in Bora Bora, but it was better than nothin'. We actually had an up on high, fab view of the purdy city lights from our K.C. hotel room that got Big Daddy and I all verklempt & nostalgic for our past life. But it was nothing that a box of Corbett Canyon couldn't cure. The kids experienced an art making frenzy called Kaleidoscope at Hallmark Headquarters and a tres cute Wizard of Oz collection while we were there. Well, let's just say it was charming the first time we toured, but after my rotater cuffs were yanked down the yellow brick road and my back was balled up on the miniature Dorothy Ruby Red Slipper slide for a gazillion times...I felt like the Flying Monkies had beat the stuffing out of me.
And don't even get me going on the not one, but three birthday celebrations we had for my youngest over the course of the last two weeks. We did a kid thing for her, of course, then had to coordinate the extended fam's schedule for yet another made with love, scary as hell to look at homemade cake sugar overload. Between that and our traditional birthday Taco Night with the Mags and T. puking tomatillo on me afterwards, I think I have just about been there and done this one, folks. Yep, little Curly-Top, when she wasn't blowing chunks, was celebrating like Oprah and her big 50, for God's sakes. Awash in all things pink and princess. Just the way she likey.
The flu struck W. immediately after the school bell rang recess, so she snotted up a storm most of the time. Thank the universe for Tylenol though. That stuff's like crack for kids. One snort full and they're good to go for anything! It sure helps us old baton-twirling gals out. Of course, being the organized super-mom I am, I forgot my digital camera and ended up shooting most of the trip on my Razer. Now if I can come up with the 50 bucks it will cost me to email it to myself, I just might have some nice memories to blubber over when I'm old and gray. Oh, wait a minute..that's right. I'm already there.
I had to crack up at the munchkins with their hiking sticks. They walked like little Trojans over those endless slippery Ozark rocks(as I twirl said mustache)...but slept like tiny blond angels that night. Just the way me likey. My thighs were quivering jello the next morning, when I finally made it to the kitchen, but it was fun and gave us an opportunity to venture out and see the area since most of the time I am trying to hide from it. Thank you, urticaria. There was a cave the locals call the Devil's Icebox...black as pitch and three stories deep but Mama picked up the pace and avoided this claustophobe's worst nightmare. W. begged me to let her see "the center of the earth", but I said nope and promised them a Barbie flashlight and a couple of Wal-Mart parkas for next time. Yeah, right.
It wasn't an over water bungalow in Bora Bora, but it was better than nothin'. We actually had an up on high, fab view of the purdy city lights from our K.C. hotel room that got Big Daddy and I all verklempt & nostalgic for our past life. But it was nothing that a box of Corbett Canyon couldn't cure. The kids experienced an art making frenzy called Kaleidoscope at Hallmark Headquarters and a tres cute Wizard of Oz collection while we were there. Well, let's just say it was charming the first time we toured, but after my rotater cuffs were yanked down the yellow brick road and my back was balled up on the miniature Dorothy Ruby Red Slipper slide for a gazillion times...I felt like the Flying Monkies had beat the stuffing out of me.
And don't even get me going on the not one, but three birthday celebrations we had for my youngest over the course of the last two weeks. We did a kid thing for her, of course, then had to coordinate the extended fam's schedule for yet another made with love, scary as hell to look at homemade cake sugar overload. Between that and our traditional birthday Taco Night with the Mags and T. puking tomatillo on me afterwards, I think I have just about been there and done this one, folks. Yep, little Curly-Top, when she wasn't blowing chunks, was celebrating like Oprah and her big 50, for God's sakes. Awash in all things pink and princess. Just the way she likey.
The flu struck W. immediately after the school bell rang recess, so she snotted up a storm most of the time. Thank the universe for Tylenol though. That stuff's like crack for kids. One snort full and they're good to go for anything! It sure helps us old baton-twirling gals out. Of course, being the organized super-mom I am, I forgot my digital camera and ended up shooting most of the trip on my Razer. Now if I can come up with the 50 bucks it will cost me to email it to myself, I just might have some nice memories to blubber over when I'm old and gray. Oh, wait a minute..that's right. I'm already there.
Monday, March 23, 2009
hallelujah
..couldn't have said it better myself. And that's why I'm just now taking my orangs out to eat, Mr. Caff. ;-)
Thursday, March 19, 2009
have car, will travel
Help. One worn out, husband-less, over 40 mother is facing NINE full days of Spring Break hell with two blonde-tufted squealer monkeys under the age of five and no money to go anywhere or do anything. All friends who are geographically desirable please respond immediately to this desperate plea and invite said family to visit. Sleep over. Chat. Swim. Drink. Yacht. Something. Anything. 216 hours, people. 12,960 minutes of "What are we gonna do today, Mom? Where are we gonna go? Huh? Huh? Huh?" For those of my buds overseas...you might wanna send a paddle.
And Oprah, if you're reading this? I prefer to fly Air Tahiti. Non-stop.
And Oprah, if you're reading this? I prefer to fly Air Tahiti. Non-stop.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
back to biz'ness
Alrighty...got two words for ya. Flu shot. Six days and four pounds later, I have risen from the ashes like a phoenix....a disheveled, limp-winged, dirty-beaked one but a phoenix nevertheless. Note to self- ALWAYS get a flu shot from now on and really, Mama..really..get your ass back to the gym. It's called an immune system, woman. Build it up....okay???
Folks, lemme tell ya a little something about Influenza A. It hurts. It hurts like hell. I have realized that I don't think I have ever had the flu after experiencing what I did this past week. Good grief. How can one old bod have an aching chest, snotty nose, flaming migraine, burning fever, a cough that sounds like Rosey Grier, throbbing muscles, blurry vision & light sensitive peepers, no appetite, nausea and a bad-breathed white trash attitude of allowing the kids to watch T.V. like a couple of street junkies...running around, half-naked with only peanut butter spoons and Triscuits to eat, and quite possibly from the smell of it- go unbathed for what I do believe was over three full days? Yep. Give a ring out to the producers of COPS and lock me right on up. I was down for the count and couldn't give a flip about nothing..no way, no how. And you would think I'd be the size of Avril Lavigne after ingesting only udon noodles and lemon ginger tea for a week. But when ya throw in a few dozen dead-of-night spoonfuls of Haagen Daz, I guess it all evens out and the shelf that's on my backside...still there, unfortunately. Oh, well, it gives me somewhere to put my duster.
Yes, in my dizzy, glassy-eyed state at the computer board this morning, all I can say is...I am darn glad this mucous-y Freddy Krueger is slowly creeping its way on out of my lungs and I can finally get all my dishes put back in the logical place and pick up the 83 balls of tissue that have littered my bedside table. Aww, thanks hon, for trying to do my job for almost a week..I really appreciate it, but baby, you might be able to work like a trooper, bringing home that proverbial bacon to your woman but you can not do Mama's job like she can. I may be unpaid and un-401 K'd but I am still the C.E.O. and my company needs me. I am determined to get back to the office and find my Kitchen-Aid spatula tip that went MIA during this fiasco and attack the utility cart that has enough paper piled on it to compose a couple of versions of War and Peace. Yes, it is high time for this little house Frau to toss out the Ibuprophen and don her super-hero apron, whirl up the vacuum and get right on down with her big, bad domestic self. But first things first. This morning, I will drink my orange juice, shave two very scary armpits and find the scrunchy that's disappeared into the rats nest I used to call my hair.
Folks, lemme tell ya a little something about Influenza A. It hurts. It hurts like hell. I have realized that I don't think I have ever had the flu after experiencing what I did this past week. Good grief. How can one old bod have an aching chest, snotty nose, flaming migraine, burning fever, a cough that sounds like Rosey Grier, throbbing muscles, blurry vision & light sensitive peepers, no appetite, nausea and a bad-breathed white trash attitude of allowing the kids to watch T.V. like a couple of street junkies...running around, half-naked with only peanut butter spoons and Triscuits to eat, and quite possibly from the smell of it- go unbathed for what I do believe was over three full days? Yep. Give a ring out to the producers of COPS and lock me right on up. I was down for the count and couldn't give a flip about nothing..no way, no how. And you would think I'd be the size of Avril Lavigne after ingesting only udon noodles and lemon ginger tea for a week. But when ya throw in a few dozen dead-of-night spoonfuls of Haagen Daz, I guess it all evens out and the shelf that's on my backside...still there, unfortunately. Oh, well, it gives me somewhere to put my duster.
Yes, in my dizzy, glassy-eyed state at the computer board this morning, all I can say is...I am darn glad this mucous-y Freddy Krueger is slowly creeping its way on out of my lungs and I can finally get all my dishes put back in the logical place and pick up the 83 balls of tissue that have littered my bedside table. Aww, thanks hon, for trying to do my job for almost a week..I really appreciate it, but baby, you might be able to work like a trooper, bringing home that proverbial bacon to your woman but you can not do Mama's job like she can. I may be unpaid and un-401 K'd but I am still the C.E.O. and my company needs me. I am determined to get back to the office and find my Kitchen-Aid spatula tip that went MIA during this fiasco and attack the utility cart that has enough paper piled on it to compose a couple of versions of War and Peace. Yes, it is high time for this little house Frau to toss out the Ibuprophen and don her super-hero apron, whirl up the vacuum and get right on down with her big, bad domestic self. But first things first. This morning, I will drink my orange juice, shave two very scary armpits and find the scrunchy that's disappeared into the rats nest I used to call my hair.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
behind the velvet rope
Well, as I've said before...we laughed, we cried and now we need dialysis. Our golden fete was one to behold. Laughter and cheer were in abundance at our 4th Annual Oscars in the Ozarks with just a tiny speck of bitterness thrown in. Hey, a girl can't be nice all of the time. Especially when she's turning another year older this weekend. And Oscar-less, mind you. I don't feel the need to publish the number that I will be waking up to..suffice to say- it ain't pretty. I have made it clear in all of my mid-fortiness, that I would like a birthday bedside breakfast of 2 eggs scrambled, a crispy strip of turkey bacon, dry rye toast, a cold mimosa, a red rose and a shot of Botox. If I'm lucky, I may get the nosh...but the rest, who knows? You can't expect much from two dwarves under the age of five and an old, tired daddy who has a closing shift tonight.
But getting back to our festivities last Sunday, dah-lings...The gold dust was strewn top to bottom all over our humble abode and we had a very nice time. An old highschool pal filled my goozle up with Goose and Mama was tucked in like a helmet-haired sausage, all cozy, in her Johnny Cash black for the evening. And this year, we movie-loving hillbillies had the great gift of welcoming a brand spanking new, shiny, j'adorable little Oscar into our midst...two month old Baby E. I could have just put him on a chain and hung him around my neck, he was so gosh darn cute.
My opinion, not that it matters-
Hugh did a decent job (just a little too metro for this girl though).
Beyonce/Baz number. Awful with a capitol A.
Sean Penn was fab and seeing him win for a beyond fine-tuned performance made me blissful (and his wife, Ms. Wright, is twice the age of all the young starlets and twice as beautiful!)
Kate looked very old movie star, from head to classy toe. Word up to her stylist. And the whistling Pappy thing...just terrific! (although in a perfect world, Ms. Leo would have carried home the golden man).
I dropped off into a Goosian slumber with T. in my arms and missed Boyle's Slumdog win. Thank goodness, for You Tube! It helps us old lushes..er, I mean, ladies out from time to time.
My Trivia answers are posted on my Oscar google page .
Th-th-that's it, folks. The golden boy has come and gone for another year and it's curtains for Oscars in the Ozarks- Four. Due to the effects of a third martini, my camera was not clicked on the proper setting, so all my indoor shots bit the gold dust, as it were. I was very bummed, but besides hiring a pro, what's a washed-up actress to do? If you are so inclined, feel free to view the hazy, golden, blurry mess below.
No, not me. The photographs.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
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