Category Archives: Friends & Family

I Got a Easy Peaceful Feeling

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I spent the day with my best girlfriend yesterday.  We have been friends since high school —  almost 30 years.  We don’t get the chance to see each other as often as we would like.  Besides living about an hour away from each other, we have busy lives.  But when we do get together, it’s as if we never missed a beat.

This chick knows the good, the bad and the ugly about me.  I can say what I want and act how I wish when I am with her.  I can be 100% me, no questions asked.  There is no judging going on.  There is no weird jealous crap.  There is just pure friendship.  Do you know how refreshing that is?  Yes, you do.  Because every one of us has a friend like this.  You may even be lucky enough to have a few.  But just a few.  Because honestly, that’s all we need.

We were talking about a lot of good shit yesterday, as we do.  And the conversation soon turned to the differences between men and women.  Particularly between a man’s relationship with a good friend vs. a woman’s relationship with a good friend.  Here’s what we came up with:

  • Men will not sleep in the same bed together.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve squished my ass between some friends on a bed.  No problem.  And no funny stuff.  I just don’t swing that way.
  • How many men will share a blanket with 3 other men to watch a Meteor Shower?  I’m guessing the number is pretty low.
  • There are not too many “selfies” posted of guy friends laying in the grass.  Unless they are women men, if you catch my drift.  Nothing wrong with that, I’m just saying.
  • I’ve never seen DH laugh so hard when he is with friends that he pees his pants.  I pretty much do that almost every time I am with someone I feel comfortable with.  Of course, I may suffer from a bladder condition.  After all I’ve been peeing my pants since 1979.  “Peeing My Pants Since 1979.”  That should be my tagline.
  • Conversation between men is usually about anything with an engine, golf or weather.  Ok, so we did ponder the reason for a Meteor Shower.  But we were drunk, so that doesn’t count.  Other than that, our discussions range anywhere from sex to menstruation, the color of our poop to stupid crap our kids say.
  • They don’t share clothes.  Or lipstick.
  • Women are very affectionate. When we see each other, we kiss and hug.  Men?  Well, they don’t do that.  I’m guessing because it makes them feel gay or something.  Again, nothing wrong with that.

I love men, they are awesome and I’m sure they have great relationships.  But we women just know.  They do have to be the right person though.  Because men will argue that they don’t stab each other in the back or are catty.  And they are right.  So just choose wisely.  My BFF wouldn’t do that.  Would yours?

Wedding Dress Blues

photoWhen I was preparing to get married, my wish was to wear my mother-in-laws wedding dress.  My own mom’s wedding dress was out of the question because my parents got married shotgun style.  Catholic + pre-marital sex in 1966 = pink suit.  My MIL’s dress was gorgeous.  I mean it.  It was made of the most exquisite Chantilly Lace, with beautiful long lace sleeves.  The skirt was hooped like Cinderella’s ball gown.  It was every young bride’s dream.

When I shared this wish with her, the woman couldn’t run fast enough up the stairs to the attic to retrieve it.  I think the gesture made her happy.  After all, she is the mother of 4 boys and none of them like to wear women’s clothing.  To my knowledge anyway.

It was stored for well over 30 years in a large black garbage bag.  Rolled up in a ball.  I don’t blame her.  What else was she supposed to do?  And remember, she had 4 boys.  I ran into the bathroom to try it on.  I could barely get the arms up.  And zipper it?  I’d need a crow bar.  I was 122 pounds and pretty damn fit at the time.  All I could wonder was what did this woman eat?  Cabbage?  For every meal?

Besides that, it wasn’t in great shape.  The lace was torn as if it lost a fight with a paper shredder and had started yellowing like old teeth.  My heart lurched.  I was incredibly disappointed.  But there were options.

At a bridal expo I had recently attended, I met a man who preserved old wedding gowns.  I can’t remember exactly what we paid, but it was a bit pricey.  The dress came back with the same tears and it may not have been as yellow as old teeth, but it sure wasn’t white either.  Not even close.  And I did not want to be an ecru wearing bride.

Her dress was a Fink Brother original.  Lucky for us, they had a store in the big city.  We schlepped down there one day to meet with Mr. Fink himself.  He remembered that gown and told us the lace came from France and resembled a large round tablecloth with just a hole in the center for the waist.  No seams.  I could have the lace replaced but it would cost thousands.  Thousands I did not have.  And since I didn’t have any rich uncles laying around, I had to give up my dream gown.

This is what I wore instead:

My dress is a Fink Brothers as well

My dress is a Fink Brothers as well

Not exactly Cinderella’s ball gown, but it did the job.  And it was white.  MIL’s dress is neatly folded in a box in an upstairs closet.  I should have made a Christening gown out of it, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut it up.  Who knows?  Maybe the kid will pay thousands to get new lace.  Anybody have any rich uncles they’d like to share?

How About a Nice Hawaiian Punch?

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This story is not about me exactly.  But since I told you a little about my brothers earlier this week, I thought you might enjoy this story.  Literally I could write a novel just based on the stunts they pulled.

I’m going to guess that the year was about 1977’ish.  My youngest brother Mark was assigned to bring in 2 cans of Hawaiian Punch for a class party.  You remember the type where you had to puncture two holes with a can opener into each end of the top so the juice would flow easily?  The big 46 ounce cans?  Those.

On the day of the party, Mark forgetfully left them at home.  After school that day, he panicked and asked our brother Ed for help.  There were plenty of ways to remedy the situation.  Flush down the toilet, pour in the sink, dump into the backyard.  My wiseass middle bro told my baby bro that he would have to drink both cans to hide the evidence.  After all, mom spent her hard earned money and time so he could have a nice class party.  He was totally being selfish.  So Mark did as he was told.  He drank both cans.

At the time, the boys shared a room and slept in bunkbeds.  Mark in the top one.  In the middle of the night, Mark woke up with stomach pains.  He put his head over the edge to wake up Ed.  Ed in turn, put his head out to look up at Mark.  Ed got hit with 92 ounces of red regurgitated punch.

Karma is most certainly a bitch.  You just never know when she’s going to come to get you.  In this case the big brother got to take a bath in her.  Lesson learned?  Of course not.  Like a said.  A novel.

Scary Mean Friend

I completely missed Throwback Thursday this week.  I guess my birthday celebration in the city threw me off.  Well, better late than never.

I was perusing the internet for some blog posting ideas when I came across this one:  What is the funniest or meanest prank you ever played on someone.  And it made me think of one incident when I was about 13.

My BFF at the time was Stacey.  We were pretty much inseparable. She lived about a mile from my house and we would meet “halfway” almost every day.  We even had babysitting gigs right next door to each other.  The parents of the kids we sat for were friends and often went out together.  As was the case this one particular evening.

While babysitting, we would call each other on the phone and chat all night long.  Hey, we only got a buck an hour. What did you expect?  Mary Poppins?  I don’t remember it word for word, but here is about how the conversation went:

Me: Hi Stacey, don’t be too freaked out but there is a man in a black cape and mask walking around your yard.
Stacey:  WHAT?  Oh my God!  What?
Me:  Yeah, he’s really creepy looking.  I saw him looking in the back door.
Stacey:  Holy shit.  Holy crap.  Holy Mother of God.  Help me.  Oh my God, what am I going to do?
Me:  I don’t know!  Oh my God, now he’s going around to the front!!
Stacey:  {sob, sob, sob,  sniff, sniff}  I’m.really.scared. (at this point the girl is completely freaked out bad.  Real bad.)
Me:  Where are you right now?
Stacey:  Behind the refrigerator.

It is at this point I figured I better let her in on the joke or she will die of a heart attack.  I told her I was messing with her between my bouts of laughter.  I was a terrific friend.  I think all teenage girls should have a friend like me.  God Bless Stacey for putting up with me for so long.  She was really relieved and really forgiving.

So, if you want to be my friend, I promise not to play jokes on you.  I’ve kind of outgrown that.  Kind of.

Things I Learned/Saw On Mommy’s Day Out

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Happy Birthday To Us!

I love the city.  I think I was a city girl in a previous life.  I could live there.  I could work there.  It’s as if I have been displaced.  There is nothing about the city I dislike.  Well, except maybe Times Square.

Every time I go, I learn something new.  It’s kinda like your spouse.  You could be together for 26 years and think you know it all, then discover something new about them.  It’s kind of cool.

Yesterday I went into the Big Apple with my best girlfriend.  It was a combo birthday celebration. Her birthday is March, mine is April.  It was a perfect day.  Here are some things we saw and/or learned:

  • That men like to drink beer on the train at 9am.  We did not get the memo.  But we are not men.  So, well, never mind.

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  • You excitedly and spur of the moment purchase tickets to see an off-broadway play called “Happy Birthday” because you think it just has to be, and then realize you made a mistake when no one there is under the age of 70.  4 words:  Read The Reviews First.
  • The cops on Canal Street are on to the vendors.  And the vendors have no problem snatching a bag out of your hand and pushing you out the door if one shows up.
  • That you will feel like a druggy if you spend too much time on Canal Street.  If you’ve ever been, you know what I mean.
  • That the lady ticket taker on the train hates her job and she lets you know it by slamming her big booty into you every time she walks past your seat.
  • New Yorkers don’t like it when you text during a play.  Even if it was just once.  Inside your purse.  And aren’t afraid to let you know it in their very nice New York’ish way.
  • Gay men like to be open about their sexuality.  Like really open.
  • Complete strangers of the female persuasion have no problem asking if you will give them a back massage.  I think they were with the gay men.
  • When you buy knock-off Tory Burch flats, make sure you look at them before you travel 2 hours to go back home.
  • Chinatown has practically taken over Little Italy.  What’s a girl gotta do to get some fresh pasta around here? (Yes, I blew the diet. But it was for a good cause.)
  • Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. plays “Forrest Gump” continuously on their TVs.  The bartenders hate it. What the bartenders don’t hate is making one kick-ass Hurricane.  (Warning: the food sucks so just go for the Hurricanes which is what we did.)
  • Drug addicts coming down from heroin like to sleep on the subway standing up and they use each other for support.  Aww, how cute. (Not that I know what coming down from heroin looks like, but if they were coming down from heroin, that’s what I believe it would look like.)
  • “Smith’s Bar” makes the best nachos and margaritas (I TOTALLY blew the diet).  Who knew?  $5 drinks during happy hour. Well, except the margaritas. Of course.

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  • You will blow through $200 in 30 seconds.  But I already knew that.  Just sayin’.

So, in a nutshell, I love me my NYC and hope to continue to learn new things about her.  Who wants to go for some Bubba Gump Hurricanes?  I’m buying.

Won’t You Be My Friend?

10 things you need to know about me before you become my friend:

  1. I pee when I laugh too hard.  I’ve been known to run to the toilet and pee through my pants to save a carpet.  Just ask my best girlfriend P (“P”.  Haha).
  2. I love to eat.  I am capable of breaking the diets of close friends because I am a really bad influence.  Even if you think you are focused.  I’m not kidding.  Let that be your warning.
  3. I can be a bit of a hypochondriac.  Remember my eye dotty thing?  I really thought I would die and started planning my funeral in my head.  It was beautiful.
  4. I am laid back but prone to anxiety attacks (isn’t that an oxymoron?).  Mainly because I’ve eaten a pound of nachos with a shitload of sour cream for dinner and I’m afraid I will keel over of a heart attack in my sleep.
  5. Don’t tell my mother but I would prefer to watch The Housewives of NYC than the State of the Union speech.
  6. I am peri-menopausal and will wake up in a pool of sweat deeper than the pool at the “Y”.
  7. I have the memory of a goldfish.  You will find that out if you make plans with me and I forget.
  8. I suffer from FIMD — Foot in Mouth Disease.  I am extremely inappropriate, loud mouthed and obnoxious.  You never know what will come out of my mouth so beware.
  9. I snore.   Bring a pair of earplugs if you stay over because otherwise you will think someone is cutting wood with a jackhammer.  DH hasn’t slept since 1992.
  10. I think Robert Redford is hot even though he is so old he is moldy.  Oh, Hubbell.

Even after knowing all that, I hope you still will be my friend.  I’m really putting myself out there.  What do I need to know to be your friend?

Smile, You’re On Candid Camera

DH has this fixation with wildlife. He gets overly excited whenever he sees anything, including deer, walk through our yard.

For Christmas, my parents gave him a camera to capture this wildlife. He has it hung out in the back woods on a tree.  It’s motion detected so whenever something walks by, it snaps a picture. He is hoping to capture photos of coyote, red fox and even better…a big bad wolf.

Every few days he puts on his boots and coat and runs out there like a little boy on Christmas morning to pluck out the memory card.  He anxiously awaits while the pictures upload to his laptop.

It’s been about 6 weeks, and so far this is pretty much all he’s gotten.

SUNP0012

Poor guy. I mean the deer.  His curiosity must have momentarily blinded him and totally freaked him out.

As for DH, keep on trekkin’.  I’m sure you’ll hit pay dirt sooner or later.

In the meantime, I probably should buy stock in Duracell.