Pathetic Much??

SOOOOO.. nothin' really.
It's just that I just finished preparing, and eating, a pretty mediocre, yet filling (and isn't that the real point?)dinner.. and am so dreading the clean-up
that I thought maybe if I sat here mustering up something to blog about,
I could put it off for just a minute longer.
But alas... I got nothin'.
I COULD go on about how much it pleases me that my dog was groomed today leaving him smelling much less "dog" than before.. and how much it DISpleases me that Sophie has been LOSING it over pretty much anything that happens in an average day..
and that I found a pair of jamma pants at Old Navy..
and that upon reading the nutritional info at Panda Express today--
I could simply not, finish, my meal.
But none of that is all that interesting.
So I guess I'll do the dishes..
cause I can already see the pasta starting to harden to the sides of the bowls.

On A Lighter Note..

So though very "cleansing" and somewhat theraputic.. I've been feeling bad my last post was kind of a drag.. (though I do appreciate all your sweet comments-- and promise you, as presumed would be.. it was better in, the morning..)so thought I'd lighten the mood here on "Nothin' But Love", and share a quick story that made me giggle.
My cute sister-in-law called to say that among other family news, her daughter, my neice, was in the middle of her final senior project, which involved having to serve in the community for a certain amount of hours.
(Kay.. that just made it sound like she was graduating from prison.. it's actually a private Catholic school.. just to clear things up.)
Moving on.
So the service they were assigned was volunteering in a Nursing Home.
Simple enough.
They were assigned a small group in the dementia ward.. which I'm sure get's tricky, but in all their festive, young girl spirit-- last week decided that for their activity, a Cinco Di Mayo party is JUST what the group needed.

Fast forward to the pinata.
I know. A pinata in the dementia ward. It's already a little bit funny.

But what gets funnier.. is that when the girls noticed the old folks weren't really getting the hang of it.. my darling niece decided to step forward and demonstrate how it's done.
So apparently a young, healthy girl, swinging a plastic bat,
came across as threatening to a little lady in the group..
who suddenly began beating my niece, with her cane..
like a pinata.

(Insert chuckle.)

I'll leave off that the woman, in her defensive fury..
fell and broke her hip.
Cause that would just bring ya all down again.

A Sad Sorta Bubbling...

I'm kinda sad.
It's 12:35 a.m.-- which means two things:

ONE: I've already missed the "in bed in time to NOT feel nauseaus" when I arise at 6 a.m. gym time in the morning..

And TWO: My Mothers Day 2010 is officially over.
It was a lovely, relaxing, bright sunny-shiney day filled with my darling, cheery bouqet (in a cute vase even).. my hands and feet shimmering in utter perfection from yesterdays mani-pedi (Why does having someone else file and paint your toes NEVER get old?) new "Viva La Juicy" perfume (I've never owned any "true" Juicy item. Suddenly I feel hipper.) a tasty trip to the local Sizzler (Mmmm. So good. So Sizzler.)and some precious alone time on a really nice jog through town, with no promises about when I'd be back. (For as social a creature I tend to be.. HOW I love me some alone time.)
Yes. A very good day. And now it's OVER. Boo, hoo.
Guess we'll always have next year.

Wait. I'm sad about one more thing.

THREE: I miss my own Mom.
My adorable, adoring, loved my guts out, Mom.
I really, really, liked having her here.
I get so used to not, having her, here, anymore.. that sometimes when I remember-- realize, and let myself really go there.. I can't believe she's gone all over again.
Today I had friends with plans to get together with their Moms.. and visited with a friend that had her Mom over, etc. etc... but I've been able to somehow, the last few years.. just focus on the sweet gestures of my own kids and husband, towards me, on Mothers Day.
It's easier-- lighter that way. In fact I find myself not really thinking about, or dwelling on my Mom, all she was-- and all I miss-- for any real period of time, ever, lately.
I'll mention something that reminds me of her to my kids here and there.. point out that she loved a certain candy or repeated a certain phrase.. and then I move on. Function.
Deal.
Carry on.
I don't want to feel the sad.. don't want to bring the low-laying void in my heart.. my longing to hear her on the phone.. or feel her own cheek on mine--
to the surface.
But it bubbled up today.
A sweet friend of mine remembered me saying that my Mom had always got me a certain kind of face lotion for special occassions.. and after she recently got a small sample of it with a purchase.. my friend gave it to me with a little card to wish me a Happy Mothers Day.
Just looking at the font on the container..
just smelling it when I screwed off the cap.
It bubbled up in me.
A melonchaly kinda swell of emotion.
A surge of unexpected tears.. nostalgia.
Longing.
I pulled it together. Appreciated the reminder.
And went on with my day.
But tonight.. in the quiet.. it's bubbling up again.
And while I hate to be a downer on my own lovely day.. and feel like maybe I should just go get in bed like every other Sunday night.. a part of me needs to somehow validate her.
Recognize her.
Honor her.
Even if it's just in typed words on my silly blog.

My Mom was nice.
She was so, so nice.
When I asked my two big boys what they remember about sweet Bee-Bee..
they just repeat, "She was just, so, nice."
She loved us.
OH.. how she loved us.
She would literally clap when we entered her home.
Hold her cheeks in pleasure that we were there.
She would hug me like only a Mom hugs you.
Like no matter where you've been.. or what you've been up to..
you are hers-- and she is proud..
and you are truly, deeply, treasured.
She was fun.. and funny.
Upbeat, and creative, and always, always, doing.
She kept a beautiful, tidy home.
She loved bright, cheerful colors.. and crisp, clean dress and decor.
She loved gatherings. Parties. Celebrations.
Everything from the first day of school, to a return home from college,
demanded a hand-penned poster and decorations.
She had class, but was never snooty.
Had taste, and a knack for decorating anything from a house to a wedding..
and would help anyone do either.
She played piano and wrote lyrics and poetry..
skits and plays.
She was great to be around.
I adored her.
And felt adored by her.

I miss her.

Tonight, I could use her reassuring voice and genuine concern.
Her unconditional love.. her willingness to listen.
Her silent promise to always be on my side.
I remember she was in her 50's when her own Mom died.. and I remember there being days in later years, when she would express
"Even when your a grown-up, everyone needs thier Mom sometimes."
I do. Tonight.
I need my Mom.
I'm ever grateful for the 32 years I got to have her.. and I know all would say she's still with me-- and I get that.
But it's not the same.
Not even close.
Tonight I just want to lay in her lap.
Have her stroke my hair.
Talk about everything that's important.. and stuff that's not.
I can imagine the color her nails are painted.
The bracelets she's wearing.
Everything about her.
And I miss it all.

Tomorrow will come..
and as she always promised,
"It's always better in the morning."
And I'm sure it will be.
But tonight.. I'm gonna let myself miss her bad.
I'm gonna let my eyes stay blurry from tears just a little longer.
Let snot run down my lips and not care so much.
I might just sob in a pillow.

Cause she was my Mom.
And I feel like I don't have one any more.
And I really, really, miss having one.
Miss having her, as mine.

I love you my Mom.
Happy Mothers Day.
Thank you for everything you were to me, everyday you were here.

I'm going to bubble over now.

Me Read Good One Day..

So... to put it bluntly (which I'm known to do on occasion..) I don't, read, much.
I mean-- don't get me wrong.. I'm first to grab a shampoo bottle if I have a minute in the "lou" (that was the classiest word I could think of for it. Oddly,"the crapper" came to mind first, but seemed offensive, and not very lady-like..) and I thoroughly enjoy a NOT outdated People magazine now and then at a doctors office (where I have learned to take it IN to the actual examination room, cause we all know once in,that's gonna be another good 15 minutes of alone time. I just realized why I look forward to such appointments..)
BACK to my point.
Reading.
On my "what to do with ALL that free time" list.. somehow working out, sitting around talking to girlfriends, and watching mindless t.v. shows in the quiet dark of my house.. ALL seem to trump, the reading.
SO, when a friend suggested I join her book club, I stiffened.. declined.. and then cautiously, and with great hesitation, thought about attempting to do something that MIGHT just use my brain cells for something other than 5th grade math homework..
and decided I was IN.
Just walking into Borders, I already felt slightly more intelligent as a person.
Look at me. I'M buying a book. I've heard about people that do this kinda thing.. and now I'm right here with 'em.
I was doing something I'd never done before. I was going to attend a Book club. I was committed to reading a whole book.. by a certain date.. and it was gonna be rad.
Then I saw the cover.
Manhunt: The twelve day chase for Lincolns killer.
A historic novel.
I shuddered.
No hot vampires? No make-out scenes? Not even a chance at relateable female banter about skinny jeans and no-fat yogurt?? Seriously?
The cover was a dark red, and had a vintage sketch of a guy with a gun pointed at a creepy-looking rendition of Lincolns head.
Ew.
And it was thick. Over 300 pages thick.
And cost like, $18.00 dollars.
It took everything in me to heavy-heartedly drag it to the cashier and PAY for it.
But I was DOING this. If it KILLED me. (Can you imagine if it did?? Kill me? Everyone was like, "She seemed so healthy and full of life.. and then she got into this reading thing.. and she just really went down hill from there. She was bored I tell you. And in the end.. bored, to DEATH.")
No. It would not kill me. I was GOING to have more to discuss with people other than who hooked up on Greys Anatomy, but I wasn't gonna like it.
Let's just say the first few pages had me doubting my ability to stay strong.
I suddenly had ADD and Restless Leg Syndrome.
I could NOT focus.
All kinds of dates and historic hoo-ha being laid out for the story.
I panicked.
I had to read sentences two and three times to absorb them.
COULD I read a real book?
I wondered.
I stuck with it. Plowed through.
(O.K. I'm only on Chapter 3.)
But what do ya know if I haven't learned more about Lincoln in 40 pages, than I've ever learned about all the other Presidents combined. (Which modestly, I will acknowledge, isn't much. Try to contain your surprise.)
It is almost, dare I say, a bit fascinating even??
I may.
I'm not saying it's gotten much easier to pick up.
My early morning gym time and late night t.v. recordings still win out most days.. but I am determined to ride it out.. get r' done.. and finish an educated, sophisticated, "well-read" woman.

Maybe that's pushin' it.

I'll just try to finish it.