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Friday, December 30, 2011

The first 42...

These are my 42 truths, one for every year of discovery...so far.



1. Dogs are an unbelievable source of comfort and company.
2. People tell you their problems because they do want to hear your feedback...eventually.
3. Not everyone is honest & lies will be said about you.
4. Attractive looks will get our attention, but the beauty on the inside is what makes us stick around.
5. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin & smelling chlorine for the first time after winter is like an awakening.
6. Food does not heal you.
7. Food can make you feel healed.
I am healed!

  8.  Humor is an absolute necessity with all things.
 9.  God/Higher Power does exist.
10. Forgiving myself is one of the hardest things to do.
11. Forgiving others is one of the easiest things to do.
12. Being selfish is sometimes required.
13. Having a drink, a cigarette and a trustworthy friend to talk with is the cheapest form of therapy.
14. Cigarettes have hurt a lot of my loved ones.

Therapy Session.


15. Cancer is the bitch I want to beat up in a dark alley.
16. Reading a great book on the beach or in bed is a marvelous way to vacation.
17. Sometimes nothing feels as good as words that begin with the letter 'F'.
18. Growing up with an Italian family makes you have a sense of humor and a few addictions.
19. Conceiving a child is a lot harder in the real world and a lot easier in high school.
20. Acts of kindness go a long way.
21. Sex is a wonderful experience that should be enjoyed and expressed but not abused.
Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.


22. Hugs feel great! (Especially from children)
23. Dancing & singing is a great release. Dancing & singing with queens is just down right fun.
24. Taking and keeping pictures of people and events are a great gift for many generations.
25. What you do is far more effective that what you say you were going to do.
26. Listening is more important than talking.
27  My parents loved/love me, and I loved/love them.
28. My grandparents worshipped me, and I worshipped them.

 "Lisa Michelle, I swear, you are something else."
29. Being born a female is awesome.
30. Getting dirty, whether it's gardening or cleaning salmon on the Kenai River is a great way to release tension and stress.
31. Every "girly" female should own at least a few tubes of red lipstick, pearl accessories, and lots of high heels.
32. Everyone should experience living alone or traveling alone.
33. Following your heart over your head is truly living.
34. Etiquette classes should be a semester requirement for all middle school and high school students.
35. Being told, "I love you" and telling my family every single day that I love them DOES still mean something.

The perfect shoe!
36. Having attended more funerals than weddings, I've never heard how much money they made or what they drove, in the eulogy or the toast. I've only heard them speak about love and heart.
37. Marilyn Monroe was underestimated and represents a little of each woman I know.
38. Changing or living for others is a HUGE waste of time.
39. Miracles happen every day.
40. Aries never want to grow up completely; Leos are controlling; Virgos think they are right about all of it.
41. Reading your daily horoscopes is hooey!
42. Speaking before thinking is considered a fault in some cultures.
     (Who knew?)



"I don't mind living in a man's world as long as I can be a woman in it." - Marilyn


I look forward to discovering so much more...bring on 2012.



Wednesday, December 28, 2011

And now we return to our regularly scheduled program...


There are a lot of ways to define Christmas and one way is getting something you didn't even know you wanted. This Christmas I received a box of hangers; didn't know I wanted them until I got them. They are the best hangers I've ever hung on. This Christmas I received a Nook; didn't even know it existed, and now I go to sleep every night with it.

What I asked for was nothing, and I got a relaxing time with friends and family, great naps, a lot of laughter, and of course my hangers and Nook.



I guess this is a lot like trying to get pregnant. When I first started out I had my names picked out, baby themes, and even went and bought outfits for both a girl and boy. I knew what I wanted and asked for it and waited as patiently as a child does on Christmas Eve, except I'm the one that ate too many cookies while waiting.


Finally, after off again, on again, it is time to start over. Tonight I get to return to my schedule of injections and for the first time my 'hormones' are on the right path. As long as the injections do their job, my uterus stays beautiful, and I stay stress free I might just get the "gift" I've been waiting by the tree for all this time.



However, if it doesn't come the way I asked for, I know now that getting what I least expected and loving it anyway seems to work out in the end no matter how it gets delivered.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

For Our Gentle Giant

There are 3 phases we face with our parents that are life changing and they are:

1. The first time you disappoint them and see it on their face. It's the kind of heart break you can not explain.
2. The moment they fall off the pedestal, whether your 10, 20, or 30. It's the kind of heart break you can not explain.
3. The final goodbye and having to bury them. It's the kind of heart break everyone fears.

Today, I went to my cousin's funeral. He passed away unexpectedly in his sleep on Sunday and today was the funeral. Saying goodbye to him was saying goodbye to a piece of my childhood, but the hardest part was watching my two cousins (his son and daughter) bury their father. The agony and pain they endured and have to still endure is heart wrenching.

Today's events reminded me that I will always be glad to be the person who says too much rather than not enough, because I don't want anyone to leave this earth not knowing what they meant to me. My cousin meant more to me than he will ever know, because in my autobiography that I have been working on there is an entire chapter about him, but I never told him. I should have and from now on I will.

Rest in peace, our gentle giant. We will miss your sweet voice, contagious smile, and huge hugs.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Leave the gun and take the canolli...oh and Buon Natale

I want to meet the people who are really described in the Hallmark cards, because I don't think I really know any.
 
Every time I look at the Hallmark cards I end up walking around to look for the Italian Family section. Never there. All I ever find are the cards that are all mushy and sweet and look like a rough draft sketch for a massengill commercial.
 
 
Where are the cards with real people and real thoughts on them?  The cards that say it with guilt, regret, tradition and recipes of course. 
Picture it...
they have to be on black paper to go with our outfits
there should be some bling
all the illustrations should have women with poofy hair and big boobs...and they should read like this...
 
"You mean the world to me, but if you don't do as I say next time I'm not giving you crap for Christmas, because you know you still owe me money from that bad used car lot investment from 1978.
I'm just sayin.
By the way, call your mother more and when are you going to settle down and find a good girl/boy to marry? Huh? huh? Okay.
Ti Amo. Really, I love ya. Merry Christmas. 
Don't forget the poker chips for the game after midnight mass."
 
 
 
When you care enough to send the very real.
 
I'm just sayin.
 
 

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Ironic: Flip Side 'This Boy' Released 1963

I have not written a lot lately, because this has been a rather difficult holiday season for me and most people I know. Families have been torn apart, long standing friendships have been beaten up and stressed, and schedules have been so overbooked traditions have been thrown out. It happens. As for me, I was truly hoping to be pregnant by now. Unfortunately I am not,...yet.

There's a cyst here, a cyst there, meds don't work, meds work to well causing illness, yadda yadda yadda.

Since my journey began in May I have read everywhere how this trek can be emotionally daunting, but I ignored it because I was so positive. Well, 7 months later and no successful insemination , I'm emotionally exhausted and starting to over analyze everything. As I wait for the right blood work results to coincide with the perfect ultrasound image,  I'm here to officially announce I am jealous of the fertile lesbians. That's right. I said it.

You see sitting in a fertility doctor's office with all the women sitting there alone I notice they are wearing a wedding ring. Maybe once in awhile a man walks out, but he doesn't make eye contact with anyone...because we know what he was doing with his magazine in hand. However, you do see couples there, and they are the lesbians in love, they are scared, they are excited, but they always have someone there to hold their hand. How lucky they are to have someone there to hold their hand.

I'm sure there are heterosexual couples that come in together too...and it's not just another Beatles song.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Cold Case Files: Carol Brady's First Husband

Sometimes I am embarrassed that I am 42, never married or gave birth, then I think about all the women who are single at my age or younger, who were once married, had/have kids, and still complain about their role in society. I wonder, in the social part of a man's mind, which is better, a woman who has never been married/had children or a woman who has been married a couple of times and has kids by different dads.



Is there one role that is to be carried with more pride or shame? I just assumed my position was always frowned upon and then I stopped and asked myself which is easier to explain, "No. I've never been married." OR "Well, they say the third times a charm." There really isn't a right answer to either, but it is funny how narcissistic we can be to think ours is always the worst, and people must be speaking about it.




Last week, I heard a preacher man, Bishop David Evans, say on his television program..."Why is it when someone says something negative that we take it as the gospel and spread it fast, but when someone speaks of blessings we question it and don't jump to repeat it?" This prompted me to wonder, why be embarrassed of your status, after all Carol Brady rocked it with three kids and she had a husband who disappeared without any explanation at all.  

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

I wonder you. (Not the Prince song)

I wonder what it is like for people who are naturally beautiful. You know the kind who do not need a drop of makeup and look beautiful? I wonder what it is like to get pregnant without trying. You know like all the moms out there who were once scared to death at the beginning and now it's just a natural state of mind?

I wonder what it is like to eat healthy or eat the right amount and not have your heart beat fast when your plate gets close to empty and you are still hungry, emotionally or physically. You know the 'lucky people'? I wonder what it is like to go to spend time doing what you love to do and be appreciated. You know like what people do on the weekend with the ones they love?

I wonder how many people realize how many of them were just described in my blog and don't even know how blessed they are. You know like you?

Friday, November 11, 2011

On the 11th day of November my true love gave to me...a life lesson.

11/1/11      Thankful for living.
11/2/11      Thankful for forgiving.
11/3/11      Thankful for 21st amendment.
11/4/11      Thankful for funny friends who laugh with me.
11/5/11      Thankful for legs who get me where I need to go.
11/6/11      Thankful for rough times and knowing I have a deep run of faith.
11/7/11      Thankful for animals and how each one is so different and the amazement of their creation.
11/8/11      Thankful for B12 and all the energy it gives me to keep going like painting furniture, picking up
                   dog poo in the backyard, cooking dinner, folding laundry, and doing it all in 2 hours.
11/9/11      Thankful for apple empanadas, grown up girl slumber parties with pearls as our accessories, and
                   and silly names for drinks.
11/10/11     Thankful for a little person named Debra who is teaching  my NPFH kids sign language
                   the real definition of courage and strength.
11/11/11     Thankful for all veterans, my dog Patina who loves & accepts me no matter what size my jeans
                    are today, and having students in my life who I have to preach to and realizing how that lecture
                    needs to sink in to my hard head.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

11/1/11

Be thankful.
Be thankful everyday.
Be thankful everyday smiling.
Be thankful everyday smiling sincerely.
Be thankful everyday smiling sincerely and do not let the smallest or biggest thing distract you from being thankful for the smallest or biggest thing.

11/1/11
I am thankful that I got to live long enough to see 11/1/11 on my calendar.
I am thankful that I got to live with my mother once again while I wait to move into my new place.
I am thankful that you are reading my blog because you must still find me a little bit entertaining or interesting.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

So I guess looks really aren't everything???

Monday
Doctor: "Your uterus looks beautiful."

Wednesday
Doctor: "Your uterus looks good."

Today
Doctor: "Your uterus is, uhhhh, confused."

I know I have had this in depth conversation before with the men I've dated, but the subject was just me and not my uterus.

Everything baby is delayed for a month while my uterus 'finds itself.'

Timing is actually EVERYTHING.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Well doc, I try.

I've never been so excited to give blood and deal with shots in my entire life! Last Friday, I got to start my hormone stimulation injections, and although I had to comfort the people who were trying to help me with the shots, all is going well. I just mix up my meds, grab a piece of meat (that's me) and shoot. I can't believe this is me, giving myself shots, and not falling over or fainting.

Now for the next two weeks, I have to go in every three days for blood work and ultrasounds, neither are very comfortable on the norm, but the results are making my returning visits an easy come back.  All my right hormone levels are increasing, my ultrasounds are coming back 'beautiful'. How often does a girl here this, "Your uterus is beautiful." (blush blush). "Well doc, I try."

If all goes well, then I might be ready to begin implantation within a week, and let the best swimmers win!

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Yes.



Have I officially gone crazy when I colored my hair dark brown after being a blond for 39 years? YES.
   No wait...

Have I officially gone crazy when I painted every room in my house a different color? YES.
No wait...

   Have I officially gone crazy when I signed up for on-line dating and found 
   one guy who was married and the other was a sociopath? YES.
   No wait...

Have I officially gone crazy when I had my back fence painted like a beach scene? YES.
No wait...

     Have I officially gone crazy when I saw this sign...and went inside to ask  
     the HEB Manager if he had a parking spot for ME, because I was single,  
     childless, and having a really, really bad day?



YES.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Mother Knows Best

I try really hard not to be a female dog (you know what I mean). I try really hard to keep my opinion to myself which has taken years of practice. I try really hard to treat people the way I would want to be treated or wouldn't mind being treated. HOWEVER, it seems like the more I work on this and the more 'punches' I take, the more attract people who want to fuss (you know what I mean) with me, so I just smile and fake it.


Do not misunderstand please. I do not under any circumstances believe or think people are out to get me or they do things on purpose because it is me. It's just a matter of fact that we, people in general, tend to focus on challenging events when we work to be a better person. Kind of like being on a diet, and you are invited to 2 baby showers, a wedding, and a birthday party all in that same week. Lots of temptation.



My mother raised me with her number one life rule being the Golden Rule. As a teenager, I got it but I was pretty much a little shitaki (you know what I mean), so I didn't always apply the Golden Rule. As I got older I realized the importance of it. HOWEVER, like many people, I'm still trying to figure out what the rule is called when people continuously make you the villain. When people apparently have nothing else to do with their time but create stories about you, lies about you, cause entire families to hurt you. What rule is that exactly? The "I'm so insecure/miserable I must make other people have drama in their life" rule.

A part of me really wants to be the female dog (you know what I mean) that has been portrayed in stories.
A part of me really wants to tell people my opinion ALL THE TIME.
A part of me really wants to fuss (you know what I mean) with people right back.

BUT the other life rule my mother taught me, 2 wrongs do not equal 1 right.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Gardening

I love my life...not because it's perfect (absolutely not) but because I know that where ever God plants me I bloom. Every situation, even the smallest of them, is a learning lesson and I have grown from all of them, so I love my life...weeds, blooms, and all.

I love that I cry every year when it's the last day of school when I say goodbye to those hormonal aliens.

I love that my corgi is so fat and when she tries to jump on the bed and misses she moves the mattress with her body weight.

I love that life has taught me to be more patient.

I love that being clumsy has not become life threatening.

I love that my grandmother taught me how to take care of others while you are still pissed at them.

I love that my Boo Boo still lets me call him that.

I love that the most random people in my life let me know when they are thinking of me.

I love that I don't have a poker face, that I sometimes it does get me in trouble and I'm glad I never learned how to hide it...it's part of my charm.




I love that my mother still has a best friend that she can call in her happiest and darkest hours, and that I learned how precious friendships are from the two of them.

I love that I was once a home owner and that I cried every day packing to leave it, because my home meant so much to so many people.

I love knowing that no matter what the future brings I know in my heart I will be a parent, whether it is through IUI, IVF, or adoption, because I know how strong a person this life has made me and how much love I am truly capable of.

I love my life... weeds, blooms, and all.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Ode To The Freckled Ones

Growing up in an Italian family is never boring. Growing up in an Italian family looking like the Irish side with freckles, pale skin, blond hair, and green eyes makes it even more interesting. I grew up around a slew of beautiful olive complexions, dark eyes, thick dark haired people, and lets not forget that I was taller than all of them by the time I was 8!

Those dark and beautiful people...

Looking back I knew I was different than most of them, and just assumed I came from a different family (i.e. adopted) but wasn't sure how to explain those thoughts as a kid. I just knew everyone else looked different, even my mother had blue eyes and reddish/brown hair with no freckles, so by the time I was four I was convinced that I was dropped off on the porch along with the newspapers.

And then he came along! I went with my parents to the hospital to see my new cousin, a boy! This was very exciting as all of my other cousins were teenagers dressed like Janis Joplin and I'm pretty sure they smelled like her too. 

So here I am peeking over into this very large window where there's a row of plastic beds and pink human beings squirming. The family is pointing and saying, "There he is. That's him." Peeking through the crowd I see the most awesome sight. The first baby I recall ever meeting, and he had this really cool perfectly shaped bowling ball round head. How cool! A pink bowling ball that cries. As a four year old I thought this would be a very interesting thing to keep around.

...fast forward a year or two...

Growing up in the heights, near downtown Houston was pretty cool as stated before in my kudos to the 70's, but the best part was having our birthday parties at a place called, "Peppermint Park". It was just what was expected and where to celebrate events for kids.



                                                          
Suddenly, I see that kid with the perfectly shaped head wobbling on his loose two year old legs, and then it happened. I realized I really was a part of this family. I was NOT adopted, because this person, who once laid in the plastic beds at the hospital, had freckles. I had freckles! He had light colored skin. I was pale too! He had blond hair. Hey, I have blond hair! This was an amazing event. Not only was I at the best place in the world, "Peppermint Park", but my new found identity had come into view. I was not delivered with the newspaper. I belonged in this family too, with this other adorable freckled face, blond headed kid.


It's funny how memories slip our mind and then one day you're sitting at a family function. You find yourself sitting at the end of a dining table next to someone who takes you back. Waaaaay back. You start thinking about your first encounter with people, and you study the kid next to you. He is the spitting image of his father, his father who saves lives and has a very contagious laugh & twisted sense of humor (must be in the DNA), his father who was/is that freckled face, blond hair toddler who told me without ever speaking that day at Peppermint Park, "Hey, you and I look alike, so I guess we really do belong."

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Once upon a time there were three little girls who went to the Police Academy

So as I was saying, I grew up in a violent home...yadda yadda yadda. My parents divorced when I was 8. Thank you, Jesus!  My mother said, the day she kicked him out, was the first time she ever heard me really sing out loud. Well, duh.

Do not get me wrong, I appreciate the good and the bad of my childhood and especially the fact that I am a child that grew up in the 70's...and because they were D-Y-N-O-M-I-T-E!

Not to say, it was the perfect era, heck no. The clothes were itchy and hot and the hairstyles oh Lord, what were people thinking? But the music…man the music was fantastic! You got Al Green on the radio. Even if I have taught English let me have this next moment…There ain’t anything wrong with some Al Green on the radio. You know what I’m saying? (Just an opinion, but I'll stick to my opinion as this is MY blog.) 

                                                                          

The 1970's were so cool. I mean there were new shows on television called, 'Good Times', 'Charlie's Angels', and let us not forget, 'Love Boat'.
 
So today's blog is dedicated to 70's television and I don't care how sexy, cool, or hot you think it might be, do not try to revive the bad acting, 'wings' hair-do, and grossly over sexed moments that was strong and alive in the 70's from the original Charlie's Angels...today it's just gross.
                                               
 







      
     





Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The truth hurts

The truth hurts.

When you live in a bubble, and someone bursts it with the truth; it hurts.

When you look in the mirror and see one size, and another size much bigger is all that fits; it hurts.

When you believe that someone is a sociopath without a conscience, and you find out they are; it hurts.

When you admit that all the food, shopping, and margaritas won't make the pain go away; it hurts.

When you come to terms with yourself, for not being all that you could have been because you were only a dreamer and not a doer; it hurts.

When you discover doctors can not save you, and it feels like God has forgotten all about you; it hurts, but it doesn't make it true.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

God Bless Charlie Sheen With A Little Bit of My Soap-Box.

He wasn’t an alcoholic. He wasn’t a drug addict. He was just mean as hell. Looking back now & being educated I’m pretty sure my father was bipolar. He was cruel. He took his self hate out on my mother. Actually he took his self hate out on the wife before my mother, Let's call her Cleopatra, and all the wives after my mother..I have fake names for all of them too... Bugs Bunny, Gloria Swanson, White Trash, and Twin. Geez, I feel like I’m forgetting one of the wives. Who knows? And yes, he beat them all. And for the most part I saw the bruising, the blood and heard a few fights or sounds of punching. As early as I can remember all females in his path, even his own grandmother he called whores. As a 5 year old, I didn't know what that was, but I knew it wasn't something coming from love.

What caused me to think of all of this was seeing Charlie Sheen on The Emmys. So many people have no idea how sick a person is and they really and truly can not help themselves when they are ill and not educated or medicated to deal with the bipolar disease. It effects everybody and the people who usually suffer from it, are so loving and generous, but they just can't help themselves.

I am actually grateful to my father for so much now. He loved me the best way he knew how even in his own ill way. He taught me to love every style of music and to dance at every party. He taught me the love of lakes and boats. He taught me that you're never too old to need your mother. He taught me how important it is to make people laugh. He taught me forgiving someone never changes them but it changes us for forgiving them. He taught me that even in the worst of times...when you can pull yourself together, tell people you're sorry and you love them...even if they don't believe you and even if they shouldn't believe you. (Don't get me wrong he never sat down and had these talks, these are lessons from my father through experiences with him.)

 The man caused so much pain growing up I literally use to fantasize about when he would die, and when he did die I cried. I cried because the only father I would ever have would never change now. He would never get to be the man I needed him to be. He would never be alive when I was pregnant, and I sure as hell didn’t want him dead since I believe in reincarnation.

I have a relative who thinks her father was/is the worst man on earth because he was selfish. He was. He put other women first for a long time. Now this relative doesn't speak to any of us because she doesn't want to hear our excuses for her father's old ways...still trying to figure this one out. She has admitted that she doesn't want to speak to her father now because he is a better father to her siblings (who are 8 and 4) than he was to her. Let's see... he is still alive, changed his ways, and loves her.  Did he ever call her a whore? Nope. Did he beat her mother or her? Nope. Is he suffering from a chemical imbalance? Nope.

(Insert sarcasm) Oh yeah. This all makes sense.
 I find it so sad that as she prepares for her upcoming wedding, she really has no idea how lucky she was to have a father who was only selfish. Who wasn't bipolar. Who is still alive and just wants to be a great dad. Thank goodness she didn't have my dad or Charlie Sheen for a pop.

And by the way, God Bless Charlie Sheen for trying to get well and getting a chance to be a great dad to his kids, yet again.




Thursday, September 15, 2011

Does Costco carry Campho-Phenique?

Why does this smelly liquid stuff have such a fancy name and with a hyphen too? And what's with all it's remedies? (It's like the dad from 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' who used Windex on everything. That will be me next but with C-P in spray bottles.)

Did you know the following are ways to use Campho-Phenique?

1. Fever Blisters
2. Sunburns
3. Boils
4. Helps stop  tracheal stricture (sudden wheezing) on dogs (I tell you the truth)
5. Athletes Foot
6. Mosquito Bites
7. Healing any and all wounds
8. Skin effects from radiation
9. Weight Loss...just kidding. I was seeing if you were paying attention.
10. Skin Rashes... and thus begins my blog 



Stress makes me itch. I realized that this week. Whenever I am having a really, I mean really, stressful month(s), I itch. I itch like I've eaten something I'm allergic too. I have even taken Benadryll this week a few times at night thinking I ate something I was allergic too. My next trip to the store was to buy some of that smelly stuff for my allergic rashes (or so I thought).

My epiphany occurred when I was talking to my lawyer's office and they didn't receive some over night information, and poof...there goes my allergic reaction to Skittles? No. Ozarka water? No. And as I went through my day dealing with stressful moments I began to itch and swell and itch and swell. I really am allergic to stress...surely this is a condition that I can get help with from the medical field. Nah. Who am I kidding?!?

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

I'm Breaking Up With You!

Dear You,

When I first found you I thought for sure all of my problems were going to disappear. I dreamed of the the marriage, the kids, and all the holiday memories we would build together. Little did I know, what a fantasy I was creating. By appearances, you were all that I thought, I ever wanted. You were big and strong. You made me feel safe and gave me shelter. My entire family adored you. Then within a year you started to crack.


You were falling a part and you were no longer who I thought you were. You appeared one way to others, but deep inside I knew what you were becoming...a bad habit I was trying to maintain.

You cost me:
money,
time,  
sleepless nights,
and you even caused me to stay away from outings (I was so wrapped up in what I thought I had to take care of to keep all of your flaws hidden.)

Well NO MORE!
I'm over you!
No more sitting alone worrying about what you will do to stress me out.
No more thinking how am I going to clean you up in time for the holidays and make sure no one sees you falling a part.
No more feeling obligated to memories of what once was.

You really did it this time! Your last hurrah at 3 in the morning was the final straw. Imagine... up all night attempting to destroy all of my belongings, shutting doors that will no longer open, and even scaring the dog!

Good bye to the idea that I had to have you to keep up with others.
Good bye to the idea that I had to have you to feel successful.
Good bye to all the heartache and worrisome nights of how we were going to make it just so others would think I was somebody because of you.

Good bye, House. I'm breaking up with you.
LL

(The beginning of the end.)
                                          (Just think... these are the pictures I can show you.)

(Last thing left hanging in the house...he works in mysterious ways...for real.)

Sunday, September 4, 2011

I love you like a fat italian kid loves basta...tiramisu...eggplant parmesean...lasagna

According to the dictionary, a family is defined as...  "any group of persons closely related by blood, as parents, children, uncles, aunts, and cousins." According to me, a family is defined as people supporting one another through good and bad; who can be honest with one another without fear of judgement from either side, and who sometimes have to put their needs or wants to the side for each other. This has been some blood relatives without a doubt, but on the flip side I am proud to call many people my family, because lets face it, sometimes the blood line disappears among the money, among the name brands, among the omission of truth, among the jealousy, and among the insecurities.  

My family ranges from some of the best friends I have ever had. Some have been around for 30+ years. Some have been around for 10+ years. Some have been around for just 5 years. All of these people have needed me and I have tried to my best to be there.  Most importantly when I needed them, they were there for me emotionally for sure and sometimes to make me "Snap Out Of It",when I needed them.

http://youtu.be/0x-fkSYDtUY

This is my way to say thank you, and I love you like a fat italian kid loves basta.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

42 Years and 1 Month

Today, I had my 'teaching' appointment with the doctor. It was for learning how to give myself shots and my fertility medication schedule. However, when they asked, "So how's everything going?" I lost it.

I just started crying and crying.
I cried because my home is a storm of flooded damaged furniture and construction.
I cried because I have a deductible to pay before they continue their work.
I cried because someone stole my debit card number and depleted my account.
I cried because if it wasn't for face book I may never know what my family looks like or what they are doing.
I cried because I had to beg for help from my administration while other people have 6 conference periods to collect data???
I cried because I simply needed to cry.

After all of this crying and trying to apologize for it over and over, the doctor and nurse said that I was "admirable for being so head strong and not giving up, but lets face it you've waited 42 years what is one more month to deal with all of this stress and get back to a clear head. After all, stress can just add to any infertility issues."



Well...I lost it AGAIN. The tears came AGAIN...
"What if I fail at getting pregnant?"
"What if something else goes wrong?" 
 "What if something happens again with my house or my car or my who knows what?"
I love this attitude and reply I got from the doctor and nurse...
"Well dear, it might, but by then you will be pregnant, and everyone will think your crying is sweet and endearing."


"Oh, and by the way...you might become more emotional with the meds."

WHAT?!?!?!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Lil Wayne + Moo Goo Gai Pan = a 'showty' with indigestion

When I was young my generation had 'Candid Camera', and this generation has 'Punked'. Sometimes I feel like I am getting 'punked'. Tonight was a great example. I eat Chinese food maybe 3 times a year and tonight was one of those nights, but I'm pretty sure Ashton K was with friends in the kitchen watching my mother and my reactions to the staff. (I know. I'm not famous, but still the thought crosses my mind when oddball events occur.) My mother and I met for dinner at one of the few Chinese restaurants I like to eat at,  and we were literally the only customers in the entire restaurant. Our waiter stayed on the phone, while we waited for 25 minutes for our appetizers. The hostess sat at the sushi bar and balanced her checkbook. The 3rd employee hung out behind the sushi bar talking to the chick balancing her checkbook. Every one was dressed for mid day college wear, and as my mother and I waited and waited and waited we realized that they were enjoying some Lil Wayne in the restaurant.

Now call me crazy, but here are my music rules for restaurants.
Italian restaurant = Italian music
BBQ restaurant = country music
Mexican restaurant = Mexican music
AND... Chinese restaurant = Chinese music

Monday, August 22, 2011

This is your brain. This is your brain on middle school.

The first day of school is so exhilarating and exhausting for teachers. I can only imagine what the little people (i.e. 6th, 7th, and 8th graders) must be thinking and feeling. Everyone is on information overload, they are thrown all of these rules and expectations as a school, their memorization is maxed out with where each class is, what their locker combo might be (it was always the luck of the draw for me), now they have to remember a pin for their lunch purchases, then there is of course each teachers name and expectations for their subject with the notion that they can get from point A to point B in 5 minutes, socialize, and possibly go to the restroom and remain cool looking.


                              (For some female brain replace the sports section with shopping/gossiping.)


  Combine all of these ingredients with confusing, raging hormones and peer pressure...Geez LuWeeeeeez...No wonder middle school kids are "bipolar" appearing and acting. They have a lot to deal with and half of the time they can not even explain themselves because it is so hormonally driven. So...if you are exposed to one of these 'little people' be aware, be patient, be kind, be on guard...they can love you as fast as they hate you...but remember you were once one of them too.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Waterfalls, Toilets, and Reality...OH MY!

Waterfalls...beautiful tranquil waterfalls what a lovely dream. Oh wait, that's my toilet tank running not a waterfall. What a disappointment to wake up from a lovely sounding dream to the reality of your toilet water running. IF ONLY. The true reality was when I woke up from my beautiful waterfall dream and got out of bed to jiggle the toilet handle, my toilet tank had busted and had been flooding my bathroom, bedroom, and 3/4 of my downstairs for hours. That's right... my house had apparently been flooding for a couple of hours while I dreamt of tranquil waterfalls...so much for the benefits of being a heavy sleeper.

So here are a few things I learned:

1.) Blessings, sometimes, have to be found w/a fine tooth comb. Thank God I was home when this happened to save my dog and pictures.

2.) Family pictures become your most important possession at 3am

3.) I have some very amazing and selfless friends in my life - my friends have checked on me every day (a simple text message goes a long way), helped me work on a Saturday, offered me their homes, and some have even offered to take care of the Corgi.

4.) Only I could have a flood during a Texas drought!

5.) Where & how to turn off my main water line

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

I Spoke The First Spanglish

Well, I'm back in the saddle again. We returned to school yesterday to meet new principals, teachers, and get ready for the school year. I was a little concerned about being down about this summer's events with the fertility issue, but I have to admit it was sooooo nice having something else to think about for a few hours.

One of the activities we had to begin with was bonding with each other in small group. We were put in groups by colors we had on us and were told to share why we are in education. There I stood, knowing why, but to put it into words to share with a group of my own peers is a whole other challenge...so I thought long and hard about this before I stepped up to speak, and then I remembered where and when it all began...

               (Insert time travel music)




Can you picture it? A little girl playing pretend school with crayons, chalk, and any loose paper in the house and of course the plastic high heel shoes from TG&Y?  That was me- Except I made up my own Spanish language. You see I grew up in The Heights the first 8 years, which is near downtown Houston, and in the early 1970’s it was pretty mixed with Italians and Latinos/Mexicans, so I heard a lot of Spanish at the grocery store, park, and on the streets playing. So when I would play pretend school in my bedroom I spoke Spanish or what I thought was Spanish. Now known to everybody as Spanglish. I taught in Spanglish. I disciplined in Spanglish. I even had parent and teacher conferences in Spanglish (I played both roles). And of course I had my handy dandy Drowsy Doll as the teacher's pet. She ran all the errands for me in our little two bedroom apartment.


Drowsy Doll...the best friend and teacher's pet a girl could have. A gift at my 1st birthday by the way.

That was my early childhood. Playing 'pretend school' as much as possible. Being sweet and loving and patient to all of my students. The ironic part was, while I was escaping into my make believe classroom, my father was in the next room tormenting my mother. And so it began, my escape into a world where small groups of people listened to me (of course they were stuffed and couldn't speak); a world where small groups of people needed and liked me (of course I owned them); and a world where my father didn't hit or call any of us names.

So there I stood in front of my coworkers, new principal, and lets face it people I still didn't trust after working together for 4 years...and they wanted me to say in 60 seconds or less how and why I am in education. 

So I told them about my old Spanglish Days...and because of those days I can see in my students' who has to escape from reality too and this is why I belong in the classroom.

Sidenote: I know real Spanish words now. Thank you Cheech and Chong movies!

Monday, August 15, 2011

Defeated & Gabbana in a size 8 please!

One of the many issues you deal with when TTC(trying to conceive) is doubt. In the beginning (hopefully just the beginning) you doubt everything about yourself b/c it is a path you probably didn't expect to be on, so you are start to blame yourself for all that goes wrong and doubt any decisions you have ever made. Today was one of those days. I waited for a hysteroscopy , had an IV in me, gowned up for surgery, and suddenly was told to go home they couldn't perform the procedure due to some medication I had taken days before.

Defeated floated above my head in a speech bubble. However, I am blessed to have a mother who takes off from work to be my taxi on these trips and who has always tried to make up for the heartache I've endured in this life...of course she has probably aged quicker than she should thanks to her always doing that. After leaving the surgery center with no answers, no procedure, and no idea what was to come next we went shopping (i.e. retail therapy)...I'll take a pair of Defeated & Gabbana in a size 8 please!

It's amazing how God, Fate, Easter Bunny, whatever you believe in works, b/c while agonizing over today, I received a text message from a former student telling me how excited they are for school to start, b/c they were able to get 'jumped out' of their gang, and now they can wear what ever clothes or colors they want to to school and talk to whomever they want to talk to...and then they said, "Thanks Mom for never giving up on me."   (Insert chicken bone feeling in throat) 

By the way, my doctor just called and told me the cancellation of today's procedure was not my fault. There was some confusion and he will get it straightened out and apologized continuously for my experience.