What Advice Do You Follow???

As a kid you are given endless pieces of advice... There are pieces that stick and there are those that just fly by...

There is a great deal of my life that is twinged my gaelic superstition...
Like you NEVER put new shoes on a table...
Itchy nose... Means you are going to have an argument or your going to be kissed by a fool... So if you do not think you are going to kiss the person you are with, quickly shake their hand so your ties of friendship may not be broken through the argument...

My homicide detective dad would cringe as his mother would bestow such advise... and then go into his own diatribe..Like if a guy is asking for directions do you give him directions?

The answer is no... For what the hell is a guy asking for directions of a girl for... The jails are littered with guys that succeeded in getting directions...Men are what fill jails... And it is not up to you to figure out which ones are the good guys...

and if he would then go on with if I ever found myself to to be lost... I was to only go to a mother... find a mother and ask for help...A mother is a whole lot easier to find than a cop... And a mother will help...

These pieces have filtered down to my parenting even today...Even the shoes...

When I was a young girl and just embarking on the dating game my mother turned to me and said'Don't get me wrong, your father is a good man.... But NEVER.....NEVER....Depend upon a man for your happiness... That comes within you. Be self reliant.'

When pregnant, I was told a mother instinctively knows where it is best to have her baby. hospital vs. home... And that a mother should always go with their instincts.

When discussing labour my best friend who was the first survivor of kidney cancer in New York told me... 'Never have a clock near you when you are in pain... Do not look at a clock... Do not think of time... Just deal with the moment. And you can get through anything.'

And now I want to know from you dear reader what piece of advice you have been given that you follow...

Or that you give...

I have yet another tale to tell...

I can only now write about it... But two weeks ago, it was too close to the heart...

My husband returned from England in the wee hours of the morning and had to go into work early for the day before our departure... He gingerly kissed our wee daughter as she slept and went in to debrief his collegues on his trip while I started to pack for our two week adventure...

My daughter awakes up with a horrible stomach ache. My daughter has a very high pain threshold when it comes to an illness, so when she says she is in pain... It is always serious. She asks for a freezee as her stomach is so sore. I give her the freezee, she takes a few bites of it then returns it to me... The freezee is not cold enough... How about some ice??? Ice is colder than the freezees she reasons...She gobbled a bowl of them up... and while she was eating her ice she is fine but 20 minutes later, with no ice, she is in exteme pain...
She screams in pain...

It baffles me and I think it could be the appendix, I make the decision for hospital vs doctor...
Long story short...
The doctors at the hopsital were baffled in the first five hours of our stay, as all her vitals normal... but this pain... that could only be cured by ingested ice..
They ruled out the appendix... It was not a whole list of things...
Through all the checks that they were doing on her, I thought that it could be just a weird virus.

Anyway... enter young whippersnapper doctor new on the shift... chin jutted forward, posture of taking on the world instead of taking in anything around him...
He has a point to prove.
He wants to show the world of medicine how worthy he is with his bimbo nurse with the tongue ring that causes her to slur her sentences...
He utters, dear reader...
he utters....
that may daughter may have
cancer...

C A N C E R

He then has his nurse's full attention and me in suspended animation...
My heart stopped...
It just stopped...
I look at my daughter...
I look at him...
I look at the nurse who seems to be squealing with importance of being associated with him reiterating all he has just said she repeats with conviction what the moron has said...'Cancer, doctor?'
I am weak in the knees...
I can not speak...
I can not think...
And then reason...
I need a second opinion of someone less cock sure and someone who in in no need of an audience...
I am surprised that I that i can muster the words,with conviction and I am not shreaking down the passageways...'I want to talk with your superior, Now!'
His chin juts out further, as does his chest...He postures over me with a old style fraternity look. A calm of knowledge that he is a doctor afterall... and he knows of what he speaks...
He then just walks away, leaving me there to breath, to think and to pray.

I then go and call my husband at work...
I take in a gulp of oxygen and call him and I have to utter what this 'doctor' has said to me...
My husband takes it in and is on his way...

My heart is racing...
Nooooooo.....
I keep pacing my breath, I keep looking at my baby...
I keep saying it is a mistake... It is a mistake...
All her vitals are normal...
I do not get how under a urine sample they could make such an assumption...
I see my old crumudgeon of a doctor that I saw initially... The head of emergency... He sees me after I corner him with the news that his fledgling brought to me...
I ask for him to re-examine my daughter with this 'new found knowledge' from the idiot that poses as a doctor...
He examines my daughter...He then says there is a mistake...He apologizes for the idiot. He tells me that he will be dealt with...
He then tells me that things were said that should not have been said...
My daughter, albeit sick... maybe with a bladder infection... but nothing more... He believes that she should be observed at home...
He'll call me by Tuesday with the results of her tests...
My poor husband was caught in traffic and for an hour he thought our wee one was soooo sick...
It took my only 43 minutes to find out differently... 43 minutes of suspended animation...compared with his 67 minutes..

The ole reliable doctor read me, and knew what all moms need to know...he called me that night so I could sleep, he called to say it must be viral as there was NOTHING in her tests...
And luckily by Friday morning it did just that... It passed...
But only after a valley of tears from my husband and mine silently held close to my heart...

I was so excited to get into our rented van and take up our trip far from the confines of the city...
We had an absolutely glorious time...
I did all I was hoping to do...
I read three books, I painted, I wrote, I fell asleep to waves beating on the shore, I cooked, I played a mean game of badminton, I had bon fires under the stars, I wished on falling stars, I ate burnt marshmallows, I felt dew on my feet in the morning, I saw hummingbirds, I saw hawks, I body surfed, I laughed at many joyous moments, I endured a terrific storm with a power failure where we played board games by candlelight, I met some pretty terrific people on the beach, chased our naughty dog around fields of buttercups,I played mini putt, i played bocci ball, I toasted many,many, beautiful, glorious sunsets, I had many bottles of wine, I sang old tunes and new tunes, I danced... And all the while... I kept thinking how wonderful life is... how it was not really all about I ... But us... How all three of us enjoyed so many things together...It truly was a great family vacation...

I returned home on Friday and quickly paid you all a visit... I may not have commented on all but was happy to touch base...

And then Saturday, today, I got the call...
Rita waited for me to return...
She died on Friday afternoon...
I will go to her visitation with Harvey tomorrow and her funeral on Monday...
I wonder about the meaning of things a great deal...
I wonder why or how Rita lasted until my return...
Somethings are not meant to be answered, they are just meant to be...
And with that in my heart, I will go one last time to Rita and to utter how lucky I was to have embraced the moments I have had with her to her family...
and I was truly blessed to have the honour of being her friend until the end...

I do not know what lessons I needed to learn in the past month. But maybe it was just a refresher. A reminder that life is so very precious. Things happen that I can not take control over. There are things that I can not change. Things that are predestined. But hopefully I have the courage of heart to face all with love and compassion.

Bugger??? No, BogHER...Why not Boghim? BogHER BogHER! Bless you!



I am going on vacation, dear readers, for two whole weeks of bliss... with my husband that poses as a Comedian abroad.
That is, if my husband, can make it home from London tonight... The plane that was supposed to take him home to my loving arms has rerouted itself to Cyprus to pick up some people in greater need than us. When he returns we will not be going to Blogher, nor Bloghim just to a cottage on cliff that overlooks a lake with the most wondrous sunsets in the world.

So, hoping that he does make it home, as I am anxious when he is so far from us, last year he narrowly escaped the bombings in the tubes on July 7th.(all I can say about that is I am so grateful that he is forgetful as he was at the staion at just two minutes before the explosion, and realized he had to go back to the hotel as he forgot a pass, three hours of agonizing waiting to find him safe...)

But as I wait in anticipation for my man, I thought, I would fill up some loose ends from my blogthis past month, to keep you, dear reader, uptodate on the goings of Ms. Pendullum.

Dr. Jekyl has come and gone with a haze of happy well wishers. We had endless dinner parties at our home to welcome our time-traveled friend home. For a week and a half it was party haven here.
He dropped a bit of a bomb on us by letting us know that he is planning one more trip. His last trip before he hangs up the ole bicycle gears...
He is going to cycle from Korea(He will take a boat) to Australia. Australia is his 'training cycling ground' for the great wall of China/the Far East and ending his journey in South Africa. I am not happy with his decision. I know that it is not my decision to make... But still...
Besides the Far East and all the problems in Pakistan and India, besides Iran, besides him doing it ALONE, besides the fact that he is pushing 50, alone on a bike with no one waiting for him at the finish line... Besides all that... there is Africa...
And there are a great deal of wars that are not even mentioned here...
A friend of mine who is working as a prosecutor for the UN on crimes against humanity was nearly murdered there just a few months ago... and that was with an entourage...
Not a lonely westerner on a bike with perceived disposable income...

As you can see I am worried... And the condescending 'he knows what he is doing' is not going to get you far in this gal's blog...
as 'All the power to him' 'Good on him' seems like hollow by yours truly.
My question to him as he left for his plane bound for Korea was 'what are you running away from?' and as he laughed sheepishly, he said 'Good Question, good question!'

Harvey and I went to see Rita. It was horrible. I have experienced 10 friends of mine who have all died from this horrible disease but none were as bad or as helpless as young,dear,sweet,Rita.

When we entered the room, we were greeted by Alice (go figure?). Alice talked to us as if Rita was not there. In the far corner of the dimly lit room was Rita's older sister who is a nurse. She was writing in a journal and when she looked up... I saw what Rita would have looked like had she the opportunity to turn 50. The possibility of what future wrinkles and fuller figure will never be there for my dear, sweet friend who had sunken eyes, a bald head and weighed no more than seventy pounds.

We talked, and Harvey brought pictures of his children, he held Rita's hand and told her of his travels and of the orphanage in which he volunteered, he talked about becoming a vegetarian and he talked about his business failing. He stood the entire visit.

I would like to say it was beautiful. It was. But all the while Alice was lyin gon her back, on Rita's bed. Alice was asking about the possibility of meeting Harvey for a coffee, she was talking about her new found religion, that, being a new GP that knew everything. And to me, Alice knew a lot of nothing.

They, Harvey and Alice, talked about anti-depressants together and the lack of sex drive. I could not believe Alice. I could not believe that she was flirting on a dying woman's bed even though she 'lacked sex drive'. Looked to me that she was not lacking in the flirting department... Just a catty observation...

I knew where Harvey was coming from. I knew that he was scared. I knew through his pacing. I knew that he was hurting and trying to find Rita through the morphine and pain. Trying to find the beautiful vivacious graceful woman that he knew. And that is what I wrote in her memory book that Rita's sister asked me to sign.

I wrote that while Harvey was talking about his life, all the while underneath it all, was a whisper of love, that Rita mattered so much in his life, Rita, that you were loved by him, that you instilled a grace in a room, your laughter could feel a room, your insights into the worlds workings will be missed and that, he, wishes you Godspeed old friend.

When we walked out of the hospice, we were reeling with all kinds of emotions. I know that I was hurting and I was angry because I hurt so much. I just turned to Harvey and asked what the hell Alice all about...

I did not handle it well... But a woman flirting??? And dear reader she was...
Asking if Harvey's wife would be threatened by an ex? Laughing and imagining if they had kids? Talking about how Rita's husband had deserted her and only she, Alice and the sister are there...(Blatant lie, as I talked with the sister and she informed that Rita's husband has been there everyday. He also brings their child every single morning///)
People handle things differently I suppose but taking credit and discrediting people for your own benefit... Big no!no! My way I tell ya...
But as I established I was angry. And Sad... And Helpless... Nothing was going to bring Rita back. And through the haze of it all we wanted it to be a big mistake. But htere was no question it was Rita and when there were those brief moments when she was lucid, we saw our friend trying to make cancer okay for us.

We made it home, quite late, in the evening. We arrived home at around 12 am. And my house was dark. My husband and daughter were asleep. Harvey needed to have a cigarette(which we purchased on our walk home. He has not smoked in fiv years) and a beer. I needed a big honking glass of wine...

And as we settled onto my front porch... My daughter comes barreling down the stairs crying...
Momma, Momma, I could not sleep... You were in big trouble... I could feel it... I could feel your heart being sad... Momma... I could feel it...
Are you ok???(May I add, that she did not see us off... She was in playdate heaven and had no idea about our trip... so she indeed felt us and our grief)

My husband turned on the light and all I could see was his silhouette form from our dark front porch, somehow I was calming seeing his wild haired bedheaded being...

He just shrugged and told my daughter 'See... They're home...'
And with that she retorted 'Not Yet!'
And she insisted;insisted; that we take out an old video...
An old movie that I took out about a month ago...Folklore at this stage of our lives...
It was of a time together, Harvey, my husband and I, when we had countless get togethers, before children, before bankruptcies, before cancer...
A time of frivolous humour...

My 8 year old was right! We laughed and laughed, and somehow it grounded us through our history. Funny how old movies do that.

So, that when we departed for bed, we could toss and turn about Rita in our own way. We would have all our own silent tormented dreams about our dear Rita. But all the while a flicker of that video of happiness and laughter played in our subconscious dreams.

We did not sleep well. But we did have the visions of the past dancing in our heads.

The following day, I was walking with my husband and daughter and we were going to cross our favourite bridge to the lake... when... all these police cars swarmed all around us just as we began to cross the bridge...
And to our horror, there was a young woman getting ready to jump. she was all poised to leave this planet, when I diverted my daughter and my dog's attention to look at the train coming towards us instead of the horror unfolding behind us...
By the time my daughter had her eyes turned around, the lady jumper, was wrestled to the ground by 4 cops. I explained that she was not feeling right and that she needed medication so that she would not be hurt. She was used to the restraints needed for a friend that has drastic seizures so she seemed fine with our explanation.

So, as you can see dear reader... I need a vacation. Where my main concern in life is if I put enough sunscreen on my daughter, if I can really body surf the next wave, catch a frog, or see a heron...

I look forward to toasting the sunsets on the lake. I look forward to thanking the sun for a glorious sunny day... I embrace our dinners on the cliff with a bottle of wine, I salute our bonfires, and we will stare up at the stars in wonder... and at the end of it all, I look forward to dragging my butt up the 100 stairs, to our cottage and putting on a old Danny Kaye movie or whatever else strikes my fancy, and watch a movie with my tired husband, my exuberant daughter and my naughty dog...

Ohh... And by the way... During all of the above I managed to reach 40 years of age. My mother called me on my big day and asked 'How depressed are you?' As she remembered how depressed she was when she turned 40....
And my retort that 'I was sad for Rita and all my friends that could not share the moment with me...' I told my mother, as I am telling you...I am going to throw a big party in the fall at a dance hall for my 40th year... I was going to charge $10 a ticket and all my profits were going to the Cancer Society. I skidded into 40. I have had a lot of friends that have parted, that I was so blessed to have known... and I know that they will be with me, when I take off my red high heels, and dance like there was no tomorrow...

I hope I get wireless service up there. And will hopefully check in with all of you.
I hope you have fun at Blogher. I hope to see lots of pics posted on the internet with wild witty remarks. I hope that I can read all your blogs in the morning light, with a sip of coffee and watching the waves from above. But if not... I will have visions of Catch, Nikki, Rhonda, Kirstin, Kim,Kristi, Mimi, Domestic Chicky,Oh the Joys, Motherhood Uncensored, Painter Beach Girl,Mrs. Moghul, Domesticator, Kevin Charnis, Mothergousemouse, Pandamonium and countless others in my head...

Cinderella I Am NOT!!!!

I going to relent and post a pic...And I want to state right up front that I am not a glamorous gal. Just a regular gal. I do not light up a room when I walk in. I am just a normal gal who looks like a hundred other gals and 'Bella' is form of greeting that my young Italian Restauranteurs. The pic I have chosen is of me in the morning on my front porch... In FULL 'mornin'glory...

I will post my pic but you will have to endure another story...

I used to know this actor.
He was a Shakespearian actor.
Onr of those amazing voices that you would die for.
His name was John Colicos.

He used to frequent the bar I worked at years ago. We met each other and we had the same quirky sense of humour... He could tell a good yarn. His stories were amazing. I loved all of them. We just got along like old souls. No attraction just a love of a good story and for it to be delivered with that voice...Wow!
What an honour to hear him speak!

I quit working at the bar but continued my friendship with John Colicos. We would meet for the odd drink and just share some stories. We would always be approached by people who were greatly effected/affected by his work...
Apparently he was one of the best King Lear's of our day. He first performed the role in 1966 and it changed people...(Or so the many people who approached whatever retaurant we were in would say!)He of course was in a whole lot more, as I learned through his fans. He was the first Klingon in Star Trek and Baltar in Battlestar Gallactica. He was in the Battle of Navarone, He was in the Postman Always Rings Twice with Jessica Lange and Jaaaaaackk...

He was modest and never talked about being an actor. He just talked about life, renovations and stories about the stars that I would just gobble up over dinner.
He was always gracious with his fans. He signed autographs a plenty. The fans always left feeling like they connected with a star.

And I was always left pondering how we became friends.

One day, I had just worked out at the gym and was on my way home. I had no make up on my face, it was blotchy from a workout. My hair was stringy from just having showered. I was wearing comfy clothes and running shoes. And to top my 'look' off I had my work out bag.

I was walking with purpose when I bump into John wearing jeans and a yellow ascot.(I kid you not)

Pendullum Dahhhhling... Is that you???

John? How are you?

Pendullum where are you headed?

Oh, I think just home.

Pendullum, why don't you join me for a drink?

Oh, what the heck why not?

I am not feeling self conscious as these moments are to be embraced. How often do we bump into an old friend and you both have time for each other?

Well, we hop into a taxi and he gives an address that I am not paying attention to as we are gabbing and getting caught up in each other's lives.

We head out a bit and then the taxi stops in front of a red carpet, search lights and someone opens the door. I look at John.

Oh Dahling, it's just a premiere.
What? A Premiere?
A man grabs my hand, helps to haul my sorry worked out butt out of the taxi.
I look at John as I want to kill him. Everyone is in black taffeta. Everyone is decked out and then there is me. Miss Workout in her skanky, comfy, illfitting outfit... I could have killed him.

It was sink of swim.

John did not have a mean bone in his body. He was the most unpretentious person I have ever known. He never judged people by their appearances and this certainly proved it. I was with a man going to a premiere that was wearing an ascot he was in a denim shirt and casual pants. He never noticed my ratty appearance... He just saw a friend...

He then announces me at the front. He gives my full name and it sounds glorious. I have never heard anyone annunciate my name before. It sounded so regal, so majestic. I pulled my shoulders back and took in my name...
It was a voice that the Queen of England is accustomed to, but not this wee gal.

I became the Empress With New Clothes.
Through the delivery of my name alone I became a starlet for one night. In my stringy, now dry hair, in my wild, comfy clothes I became someone. Someone who had an introduction like no other.
Norman Jewison came over and asked me what I had been in. I had actors approach as John guided me through the crowd of people waiting for the picture to begin.

I loved him for that moment. I love to tell that story to my daughter. It was a life's lesson. It is not what we wear. It is not what we look like. It is all in the delivery. Hold your head up. Walk tall. And have a great Shakespearian actor on your side!


We should all be so lucky.

Do I Know You???

I have one of these faces that reminds you of someone...Someone's mother, your old best friend, someone. And someone famous, someone that I do not know.

I get it all the time.

There was a time my husband and I were in a Hasty Market and the guy behind the counter was very excited. I thought he was on old friend of my husband's and that he was just happy to see him again. His face had a grin from ear to ear. He was racing around us. We were talking with an old friend of my husband's already. Hasty Market seemed to be the place to be! I thought he was just waiting for a lull in the conversation before he interjected with 'Remember me ole buddy?'
But no!
He was excited to see me. HE was fussing over me.
'Let me take that from you.'
Is there anything else Missss.. Anything else??? Ohhh, this is my lucky day!
Now, just wait here...
I have a camera somewhere... Please lemme take a picture...
And he gives me a sheet of paper and says 'Please for me, my name is Rick.'
I look at him and think he is joking.
He is serious...
My husband just looks at me and I shrug.
'Who does he think you are?'
'I dunno.'

There was a time I was in Sardis in New York, havin a drink with my best friend before a show. I went upstairs to use the loo. By the time I was leaving the loo a crowd had gathered outside the restoom. I was swarmed by people asking for autographs.
I protested and said 'I am just a vistor, I am not who you think I am'(and just who do you think I am???)
and they would get indignant and call me 'A SNOB'as they trust their sheets up paper under my nose'
My friend came up and I had to scream for him and he literally had to break it up as we were late for our show... It looked as though I had a gay handler who was very irrate with my delay...We were going to be late for a show... Which caused the crowd to go into squeals of 'Break a leg honey!'
And I did not ever find out who I was... Maybe I am just plain scared to find out that I am like Florence Henderson or some other character actor...

Well, fast forward to me present day.(Well, at least me in the last few years.)

One of my best friends in the whle entire world asks me out. And I accept. Hubby is working late and will not miss anything with two gals yakking all night. She decides on a very cool restaurant downtown and we agree to rendez vous at around 7 as it will be pretty hard to get a table as we had the film festival and the jazz festival happening in our fair city.

I head on down and my girlfriend is waiting for me at the bar. She comes over to me and says that they are fully booked and there is no way we are getting in. The robust owner is rushing around cursing and then sees me, he makes eye contact and screams 'Bella! Bella, you're here'
I look around, as it can not be me.
'Bella, have you been waiting long?'
Gianncarlo, go clear that table immediately!
Here Bella, Table for how many?
Two?
Here you are Bella.
My girlfriend and I sit down.
Pendullum, do you come here often? asks my gal pal.
Nooooooo
Hmmmm???/
The owner comes by with a really nice bottle of wine, 'On the house Bella!'
This is ridiculous! I do not know what to do...
But it's happenin and we are just laughing...
Anyway we have a wonderful dinner...
Owner comes by and invites us to a party with Al Pacino. I decline as I just do not want to take this any further.
Then he says 'How about a party for David Cassidy at my brother's restaurant???'

Now, I must take you, dear reader on a side adventure....

Flash back to a young girl who loved the Partridge Family(Before she saw the Elvis 68 comeback special) she thought that David Cassidy was love.(Until she saw that Elvis special with him in leather... and then I reeeeally knew what love was... But I digress)
She bought the Teen Beat. She set up the poster and each one of her gal pals would kiss David.
The infactuation died as they always do.And that person is a million miles from my teens.

In my teens I was a babysitter for the big hotels.
And one day, I was called to do a job and who answers the door but ..........David Cassidy!!!!!
My face went scarlet as I was certain that if my Teen Beat pictures could talk they had told a thousand stories to the man standing in front of me. I was so embarrassed. I was red and my face would not stop glowing. I could not look at him. And I was going to be left in charge of his kid????
What kindof justice is that????
Anyway, he left, with his beautiful wife, and I did not damage his child as he was asleep in the room before I got there.

Now, flash forward to me and my gal pal...

Nahhh, thanks anyway.... But I told the owner my David Cassidy story...
As the night progresses, my husband just happens to walk by and he joins us. It is one of those fun nights with laughs galore that you just do not want it to end.
We are tipsy and have a craving for a cognac and cigar...
(What would be the first indication that we are tipsy???)
We decide to leave the restaurant and go to a restaurant that specializes in our poison.
The decision is made for a bar up that is within walking distance up the street. And being loose, we absolutely forget that this is where the David Cassidy party is supposed to be.
We walk in, the owner sees me and screams 'Bella , you made it!!!'
Ohhhhh Noooo...
My husband just looks at me.
My gal pal just says,'Loooong story!Just smile and be part of the entourage.'
The owner of the previous restaurant called his older brother and has relayed my David Cassidy story.
This guy isis only too excited to get me, Bella, (Whoever the hell I am) and David back together....

Nonono.... I protest...

'We don't want to go to the party! We do not want to see David Cassidy. We do not want to hang with the entourage...
All we want is a cigar!' But this guy just doesn't hear what I'm saying...

'Ahh, Bella, David is not here yet...'

'I don't want to see David. I just want a cigar and me and my pals are just going to sit at the bar.Ok?'

'Ok!'

Well, in walks David... He is swarmed by adoring middle aged fans. He is polite, (he at least knows who he is) he signs autographs and is escorted to the private dining room where his party is waiting for him.

And my group of three is just having a good ole time at the bar.

And then I feel a hand on my shoulder.

'Hi, I am David Cassidy and I hear that you babysat my stepson.'

He stayed with us all night. My husband talked with my gal pal and I talked with David.
Polite, kind, funny. He stayed with us the entire time. And he picked up the tab when he left.How often does that happen??? I'm livin' the dream I tell ya!

After he left, another famous Canadian actor came sat beside me and said'You seem like the person to know.'

I felt like David Letterman holding court...

But I do not know who they think I am.

Guess I will never know.

But there is my first crush story. No Elvis Presley in leather... But there you have it...

Might I suggest that you go to

http://othejoys.blogspot.com/

as she was the inspiration for my long story... Her story of Celebrity crush is stellar!!!

Her blog is soo funny...
Could not stop laughing and it brought back to many memories.

Planets In My Universe Went Bam!!!!

As I mentioned in my earlier blog I lived with all these guys. And Harvey was a guy that lived with us the longest. He was a constant. He had a good disposition. He made bread on the weekends, he liked to dance when he was drunk. He even liked and even laughed at my husband's bad jokes. Harvey always kept his cards close to his chest. You never really knew what was going through his head or his heart.

Harvey founded a company with a partner. He worked very hard at this company. The company did well. He never had the desire for opulent wealth just comfort. Harvey always believed that he was fortunate and he always gave back to the community.He had the opportunity a few years ago to give back and went to India to work, for four months, in an orphanage. He's that type of guy. He worked hard. Was honest. He sold to all my artist friends, at cost. No profit.

Anyway, he expanded his company and long and short of it, one of his employees robbed him blind and now he and his partner are losing everything. He is going for broke. Not bitter. Just the way it is. He feels a fool but can not change the past.

Now, apparently, if you are ever in the position of bankruptcy, it becomes like a mind altering experience. A man that always has played his cards close to his chest will tell you everything about his life. No stone left uncovered so to speak.

So when we had our soiree for Mr. Jekyle a few nights ago, he was with his closest of intimate friends that he had kept at bay for 20 years, and he decides to share his life's story. As the night progressed he opened up. He talked and talked and we were all riveted to his life's story. A story. A journey that certainly had Dr. Jekyle in awe.

All of us were dumbfounded as the conversation was deep, insightful, painful, funny, and mindblowing in its honesty.

Harvey talked about his failures, his triumphs, his recent loss of his company, going bankrupt and he also talked about his lost loves and of his regrets.

Harvey is married now, and he loves his wife, Margaret, incredibly, and adores his children. And because of that he thinks that he is grounded for the obstacles up ahead. It has been the worst year of his life but he kept on saying that he has is health and his family is healthy. It took him a long time to put it in perspective but now it is...

But before he got to the point where he was this married guy, he was a sad bachelor.

He was a bachelor looking for love. And at one time he was dating two girls who were good friends... And he had to make a choice between either Rita(my friend) or Alice, no friend of mine, but a good friend of Rita's.
Rita was a devout Roman Catholic, from a large family. She blushed, was soft spoken, kind, well read, a wee bit uncertain of herself and a virgin. She had a hardy laugh when she heard a good story and always had a kind word. But the virgin thing at the age of 28 can be a bit daunting for a man I suppose. And Mary Tyler Moore character is hard to figure into a 3D life I suppose.

Alice on the otherhand was a powerhouse. She was strong and confident and took life by its horns... Never had a doubt about herself or where she was going. She had a swagger to her walk and a head that was cocked up, ready to look you in the eye whenever she spoke.

Harvey chose Alice. And regretted it. (Alice, the skallywag, broke up with Harvey on his birthday 2 years later.)

As a result of Harvey choosing Alice, I dealt with a very, sad and dejected Rita. She slowly faded from the picture as it was too painful to see Harvey at functions.

I would bump into Rita on and off again. We always had a good laugh. We would run into a coffee shop and get updated in the course of a coffee. The last time I ran into her she was happily married and had a beautiful girl.

Harvey, just before our Dr. Jekyle soiree bumped into Alice. She lives a block away from where he is raising his family and they have never seen each other up until now. They had a quick conversation and that was that.
Harvey came to the party without his wife as they could not afford a sitter.
Harvey relayed his story of bumping into Alice and he wondered aloud what ever happened to Rita.

He told the group that he still to this day regrets his cowardice in dealing with Rita. He misses her friendship. He thought that she was absolutely something extrodinary. Age has taught him all of this. He misses her. He would not trade in his life. It is just a feeling of 'whatif'... and 'I am sorry' that he has always wanted to relay...

Now, I was walking down the street, a week after our soiree, and I bumped into my neighbour that I always share, brief life's lessons about our kids and living in our hood. We always have a good laugh. Today our conversation took a turn ...I find out that this neighbour that I have been having a good ole laugh with for the past ten years is Alice's sister..., Wow...
But the story continues...
If that is not enough to blow my mind...

Alice has just connected back up Rita. It seems as though Alice after bumping into Harveylast week , just happened to bump into Rita's best friend directly afterwards. The best friend of Rita's told Alice some devastating news.

My neighbour has just informed me that Alice is helping to nurse Rita. Rita is dying. She has but days to live. She is in and out of coma and it is just a matter of time. The family knows that she is not coming home. They do not have enough money to pay for the round the clock nurses and friends are picking up the slack.
Alice has just become one of them as of last week.

I write this to all of you while I have the phone beside me waiting for Harvey to return home to get my message.
I am waiting to tell Harvey this horrible news. But somehow I think the universe has gone BAM! that all of this has happened, and that there is some lesson here...
Some hard terrible lesson that Harvey and I are about to embark on and I am so sad.
I am sad for Rita.
I am sad for her 6 year old daughter. I am so sad for her soulmate and heart's companion.
I am sad for Harvey.
Somewhere in the universe, a planet has decided to set all of us in motion colliding towards Rita in her last days...
And now I sign off and wait for Harvey's call...
and wait for my neighbour to call with all the info so that I can be put on the list ... and maybe Harvey will sit with me...

How Do YOU Spell SUCCESS?????

Is it getting to the bathroom just in time?
Is it by having a clean house for the first time in 5 years?
Is it by writing that perfect memoire and someone wants to publish it?
Or is it by remembering where you put your keys?
Or by getting through another hectic school year?
Is it by the car you drive?
The house that you live in?
The fact that you are married?
Single?
With child?
Childless?
Full of dreams?
Having a dream come true?

When I first moved in with my boyfriend who later became my husband I became a 'Denmother' of sorts. He owned a house and all these guys lived with him. All these guys were in good paying jobs with corporate companies and me...
We at one time had four guys living in our three bedroom abode.
It was certainly an interesting time...
There was one guy Dr. Jekyl, in particular that had a love/hate realtionship with me.
You see the guy had a drinking problem. He could avoid drink for weeks but when he drank...
Yowzaa!
He was self destructive. And living in a house full of guys they thought the behaviour was odd... but none of them were going to get involved...
Well, one morning, I awoke early and found blood smeared across the hallway. At the entranceway to our house a wee pool of blood.
My boyfriend was showering when I made the grim discovery of blood.There was a mad scramble around the house due to the fact we were all embarking on a roadtrip/ wedding.
Mr. Jekyl meekly comes down the stairs. He has been beaten up. He has blood caked in his hair, he has a wound on his face from a guy who punched him with a big honking ring.
Now, I could bore you with all the details of our love/hate thing and how our fight really began there. I could point out that I just wouldn't let it go as I cleaned and dressed his wound.
I could point out that I called him a liar.
I called him a lot of things.
I could point out that I was the only one who got involved...
I got my hands dirty.
Everyone else just kinda said to lighten up and would retort that these things kinda happen...
Did not know what planet they were from.
From that day on, for four months we fought. He quit drinking to prove me wrong.
We fought continually. He hated me.
And I can not remember the litany of crap I put up with at the time but I put up with a lot.
All because I spoke up about his aloholism. It was the elephant in our house and for some unknown reason I cared.
He moved away. And I thought'Good Riddance'
And after a month or two he started calling..ME... Not any of the guys...Not his buddies... ME...
He would phone at ungodly hours(drunk) but somehow I knew I had to listen...
I would love to say there was an epiphany moment but there was none...
There was just me listening to him...
He then, decided to go on an adventure...He couldn't like life in our country or maybe he just couldn't find himself through the confines of our society, I have no idea.He has never said why, he does, what he does.
The man got on his bike and cycled from England to India.
No prep work. He just did it...
And from that day he has been travelling.
He only nurses one beer a month. Does not drink at all.
His last adventure was from Terra Del Fuego up to Alaska and across Canada all on bike.
He comes to visit on occasion.
And the last time he came he apologized for all he put me through.
He gave no excuses just an apology. And I gave him forgiveness.
He is now residing in Korea teaching English.
He is coming to stay with us in a few days.
And now when I think of him.
I think of Success...

Just click your heels together three times...

Are You Really What You Wear?

I suppose we all have a costume that we wear in one way or another... We all play a role. In a neat and tidy world. Dorothy had her role woth Toto in a beautiful blue ginham dress, Charlie Chaplan was approachable in the oversized pants and bowler hat. June Cleaver in the fities style dress and high heeled shoes.

We all have a costume or uniform that states what 'we do'...

The butcher wears his white robes laced with pieces of meat stuck on the front, the crossing guard with the giant orange vest and stop sign, the policeman that has to taken to wearing baseball cap so that he would be more approachable, and a doctor who wear the big white lab coats for goodness knows what reason... probably the same as the butchers.. .

My costume of life is that of jeans, running shoes, Doc Martans, t-shirt, sweater, hair tied back, no make up and sunglasses. I have my daughter on my right side singing at the top of her lungs and I have my black, small, approachable black dog who is wearing all his dog tags that say that he is owned and is not the carrier of rabies. Basically in my mind's eye I am like a Mrs. Cleaver minus the green apron and the perky disposition.

My daughter seems to replicate my uniform, except that she likes her hair down, and she will wear lipgloss on occasion. Part of her ensemble is a knapsack that is larger than her upper torso which gives her the appearance of a purple hunchback going to school.

My husband's uniform is that of black jeans, or blue jeans, an undershirt and dress shirt, he carries a black nylon swiss army briefcase that holds his lunch and reading materials.
In his dress shirt pocket he carries his Nano that have white, dangling, earplugs and he wears dark Ray Ban sunglasses. The ensemble makes him look like a secret service agent...

My daughter purchased a pair of shoes for me this past Christmas... They were patent leather, three inches high, and scarlet red... She was so happy giving them to me... I just looked at them in disbelief.. I looked at the box, looked at the shoes, looked at my daughter who's face was full of anticipation and looked beseachingly over at my husband who just said...'She saw them, and HAD to get them for you!'

My daughter then shrieked...'You can wear them, when you come to pick me up from school!'

Oh yeah. What costume are we talking here... Albeit I have the black dog...

Well, the shoes stayed in their box. And my daughter would continually ask 'when are you going to wear my present???'

The day arrived when I was going to attend a big party at a new, fancy, hip, club/hotel. I was to meet my husband at the club and from there we were going to rendez-vous with the larger group of people... A grown up party!

I decided that my Christmas shoes would work for this occasion.

So I dusted them off... Searched the closet for an costume that would compliment the shoes.
I chose... a black Ellen Tracy tuxedo blouse, a red, Georgio Armani skirt, fishnet stockings and my new red shoes.
I seem to put myself into a whole new aura with just a change of clothing. A groovy girl. A gal who is hot. A gal who is going to meet her man. I was a funky, hip, young, chick! The outfit screamed no responsibilty...Look out!

My daughter squealed with delight when she saw that her Christmas shoes were on my feet and I was taking flight.

With all the encouragement from my cheerleader daughter I left with my house with my head held high and my high heel shoes clicking with great purpose on the sidewalk. I was out of my Doc Martans, I was out of my jeans, I was feeling cool and I was heading to the new and cool club/hotel in a grown up costume without the props of dog or daughter.

My husband is always late. Always. There is always an excuse but he would be late for just about anything... He always saunters in with a smile, unplugs himself from the sanctum of the nano and joins in with an apologetic smile.

This was the grand opening of the hotel and I should have known this would not be any different than any other time meeting him.

He was late. Very late.

I was just waiting in the lobby, pacing in my red high heel shoes, with fishnet stockings aimlessly looking around. I had no idea where I was to go so I was left in the lobby to pace. I was just pacing in my mini shirt. I was just pacing in my fishnet stockings. I was just pacing in my three inch high red shoes. I was looking at the ceiling, watching the people enter on the red carpet and then it happens....

'Excuse me Maaaaaam... But... we have a.... no loitering policy at the hotel.'

No Loitering???
No Loitering???

I look at this young whippersnapper in his hot black pants, his crisp black shirt, surfer blonde hair, his gold bracelet, his gold earing and his Maui tattoo ...

Ohhhh Myyyyy Gaaaawwwddddd....

The Dolce&Gabbana consierge/the bouncer/the young/goodlooking/suave/hipster/thought I, ME,
Maam,
Mrs. Doc Martan,
Mrs. Sensible,
Mrs.
MOMMA,
Mrs June Cleaver with attitude,
was a HOOKER!!!!!!!!!!!

Amazing, what I appear to others, when I am without my props!

Maybe next year, for Christmas, I may get the green apron! or the blue, gingham, dress....

Just What Is With a 'Bad Boy'?

If there was not a market for the Badboy, would the Badboy not exist?

As a young girl I was on occasion, attracted to what may be construed as the BadBoy. The Badboy could be anything that would seem forbidden, from the look, the perpetual sneer, ripped jeans, messy hair, to the brooding artist who was terribly misunderstood. The Badboy who only wore black. The Badboy that wore dreadnoughts, the Badboy that dyed his hair blue, the Badboy that shaved his head.The Badboy with the Harley. The Badboy with the tattoo. The Badboy musician. The Badboy, ahhhh...

I do not think there was a real dress code per say it was more... an aura. I did not necessarily go out with all these type of guys but I was definitely attracted to them.

My husband is afraid of the future.

He is afraid that one of these boys may end up on our doorstep and want to court our/HIS daughter. He feels as though, the Badboy attraction, could be inherited through my genes. My husband is attempting to 'train' my daughter into what she may want in a boyfriend, ions from now. He is thinking along the lines of nurture versus nature.

The training began by watching the Pirates of the Caribbean. The movie with Orlando Bloom, as the dutiful, Will Turner and Johnny Depp, as sexy, Captain Jack Sparrow. I listened as my husband gave a commentary on how wonderful Will Turner is as a person. He works hard, he has a craft. Will Turner is patient, kind and only has one love and that is that of Elizabeth.
My husband, would then go on about Captain Jack Sparrow and how he was a philanderer, how he didn't even bath, his teeth were made of gold and he seems to drink way toooo much.

He thinks the point is driven home to our eight year old.

After the movie we head up to bedtime routine.

I read my daughter her stories and then we turn out the light.

'Momma, it's about that pirate movie. '

'Yes, love.'

'You know the pirate that Daddy liked? '

'Yes. '

'Well, he was good. He was nice, I mean. '

'Yes, honey. '

'Well, you know that other pirate? '

'Yeeesss?'

'You know the one with the hair, the eyes, the teeth, and the crooked smile? '

'Yes .'

'Momma, I like him... I mean I liked him ALOT, ALOT!!!! '

Serves my husband right... Keith Richards is just a few years away!

Nurture versus nature!!!! HA!

There'll always be a market for the Badboys...at least at our house...

Kismet Fate? Do You Believe in it?

I wrestle with this question or maybe I have come to terms with it...

While on my honeymoon in Greece, I met a soulmate of mine. You may find this odd as I was on my honeymoon with my husband and there HE was... Another piece of my destiny...
My husband and I were on an island that worshipped the sun. Mykonos had not seen so much rain. I felt as though my husband and I brought on the great floods. Or at least fate did.

It all seemed to begin when my husband found a pub that was on higher ground. We were finally away from the wrath of Poseidon.The bar was owned by a wonderful, eccentric, Scot who had the delightful sense to offer a litre of retsina to entice all kinds of patrons to his BBQ in the rain.

It became a giant cocktail party.Everyone was in the mood to socialize, partly due to the wine and partly due to the inclement weather. We were on an island that worshipped Helios and the nightlife and since there was no sun god for the past week, the natives were only too willing to patronize Dionysus.

I had just introduced my husband to a couple sitting next to me... and luck would have it they lived in the SAME city as us. My husband and the couple were getting along famously and I was enjoying the ambiance when HE bound into my life wearing a flightsuit. The most handsome man in the joint. The one everyone seemed to want to know...

HE strode right over to me in the crowded bar and said that HE needed to meet me.

I cannot tell you what we talked about. I cannot tell you how long we chatted. But it marked the course of our lives.

After corresponding for a year, he invited me first back to Greece which I declined and then he invited me to his hometown New York. I knew nothing about him really. All I knew was a feeling. A strange old soul feeling. I knew him and nothing about him. My husband thought of me as crazy for wanting to embark on a journey to a foreign country to visit a man I barely knew on an old soul notion... He tried to reason with me'What did I really know of this man. Where did HE live? Would I have to sleep on the kitchen floor?' and my favourite 'I would be sold to the white slave trade and I had only myself and my old soul feeling to blame'

I just knew I had to go and ignored the detour signs along the way. I was not dissuaded when my boss called me in for a last minute meeting, or when my luggage desinigrated on the way to the airport and had to be bound together with electrical tape, or when my flight was rerouted to Pittsburgh and I was three hours delayed.

And then there was the cab ride. When I gave my cabbie, the address he informed me that I must be very rich since I was certainly not famous... And the location as to where we were going... I had to be one or both...
I told him that I was not/am not and that I know how much it is to my friend's place...
The cab driver then informed me that the friend I was visiting was not gay, but leading me to his place under uncertain pretences, or that my husband was not going to the Formula One race as he did every year, my husband was actually having an affair!!!!!and that not one of these guys could love me like my Columbian Cab driver could love me..

By the time I reached his door and he flung his arms around me...I had so many stories to tell him that it could not help but blossom into a never ending friendship...

We packed a great deal of history into a four day weekend . A history that caused us to get into eachother's bones.

I have endless moments with HIM to follow and to fill my life.

He filled with anticipation when my husband and I told him we were expecting. He made certain that we would have one last vacation as a couple before the baby. He indulged us. And I often wonder what we had to give in return... Middle class morality with all its fixins?

When the baby arrived he made certain he came when we were all settled in so that he could pamper us as a family. He filled our family with endless vacations with him. We all got along famously and how often does that happen???
When he would come to our sleepy city, I would be filled with angst as to what I was going to show him...
and his only retort would be the festival of you and your family.

We had years of vacations together. And my daughter spent 26 per cent of her life in New York visiting him. He spent countless adventures up here. He even flew up for my daughter's first day of junior kindergarten .

And then he got sick. We were with him every step of the way. We saw bravery like no other. We loved him and there was no way he was going through this alone.

He had a 'good' year of recovery.

And then he died.

The autopsy came back recently that told us that he would have been blind and he would have had to have his legs amputated had he survived the last go around... A fate he would never had wanted...

When the 'anniversary' of our meeting, nine years later, the stuff from HIS estate showed up at our house...
It was raining.
There was an inch of water on the ground,
The delivery GAL was a...... Well, she was a, a Dwarf.
A determined dwarf,who insisted on no help delivery my goods...
I watched her dumbfoundedly from my porch... All the stuff was larger than her...
A dwarf, in the rain, on the anniversary of our meeting?

Fate interceded? Fate brought him to me and fate took him away... and brought him back again...

Are You the Age You Are? Or????Are YOU, just Faking IT?

My Dad has this theory that you are born the age you are.

Some people were just born old...
Some are born young etc.

I had this actor friend that recently passed away. It made the news. And while I marveled at his obituary on the radio I was struck by his age. I never knew how old he was... I never defined him by an age. And there it was. His age forever more on the radio and I couldn't believe it.
He had a presence of spirit. He had a mischievous twinkle to his eye. He could laugh like no tomorrow. He could tell a good story AND listen to one. He took chances and learned new things. He loved life and life loved him back. A light gone. But while he was here for 72 short years that light burned brightly.

I have a grandmother. She was old before I met her. She lived in the past. She complained about her joints . She complained about the pain of growing old. The misery of it all. 'Youth is wasted on the youth' she would often say. This quote when I do the math... Was said when she was 48 years of age. She is now 83 and she is dying. But was she dead before I met her?

I wonder about this. I still see myself as a gal that loves to skip rope. I can still see myself riding my absolutely favourite banana bike with the wind blowing through my hair. I still love to sing songs. I still feel that tingling insecure girl feeling when walking into a new situation. I still bite my lower lip if I am feeling insecure. I still can cry.And I sometimes I just need a hug to make it better. And I can still laugh. I still will call my mom in times of trouble. I still turn up the stereo to new levels of high when my 'favourite song' causing me to squeal with delight, sing and dance all at the same time....And sometimes I still need to gab on the telephone for hours with a grrrrrfriend... I still see myself as a girl of twelve.

And then, I pass a shop window and I see this woman? When did I grow up? I don't remember doing that? I have a husband, a kid, a dog, a house and debt??? Am I playing make believe? Or have I grown up?
Are we defined by our age? Or does our age define us?

Just asking.

I wake up...

Sluggishly look at the clock with one eye...I purposely only open my right eye, as my dog is on my left side and if he sees this subtle movement of an eye opening, it wakes him... And his enthusiasm for my being awake is NOT reciprocated initially.
And once he is awake... The day begins...
And sometimes a gal just needs a minute of consciousness without another being conscious of her existence.
My dog does rise. I do not know how he has the canny perception that I am awake. Maybe the sound of the eye crust breaking free as I opened my one eye, or perhaps smells the scent of the liquid of my eye? Have no idea but he always is wakes. I lie as still as possible just for a minute and he knows. A sixth sense he has... And it drives my crazy...
He just sits. He stares at me at eye level with his tail wagging. He whimpers. He wags his tail. He is only concentrating on me. and when he gets the go ahead he throws himself onto the bed . All this is just too much for my husband and me. I relent and get up.

I stumble over a heap of clothes that I have been meaning to launder for what seems like weeks. I give myself heck about being so tardy.
I then venture down the stairs with my posse of one.

He is let out immediately.
I listen to the news while getting my daughter's breakfast and listen for the weather.

Weather is a pretty important thing if you are a Canadian... Weather gives us purpose. It can be an opener in any crowd. A Canadian is not uncomfortable about opening a cocktail conversation about the weather...

Whoa, what weather we having,eh?
Cold enough for you, eh?
The chill can cut you to the bone.
God, feel that humidity?
I can not breathe for the humidity.'
And so it goes.

It affects our moods, or general disposition towards life. So when hear 22 degrees Celcius with ten per cent chance of showers is announced by the weatherman in the morning one feels relieved. It gives you a warm tingle feeling. You can carry on with confidence. You can walk with a stride. You do not have to fight against the weather. It is one with you. The force is with you.

The sun is shining, it is a beautiful day good morning, good morning, good morning, yah!

I wake the troupes, my husband and daughter with the weather news and off I go...
It is going to be a good day.

I motivate my kid to wake up, with the weather.....Oddly enough, she is not transfixed with the weather as this Canadian.
Waking a child to go to school is like trying to put a sock on a cat's head... It is possible but with a lot of elbow grease.

She finally gets it together... Or should I rephrase that to..."We" get it together.

I do the quick run outside to check weather report... That's another thing, we do not have much faith in the weatherman.

But today he is right!
Blue skies...

Kiss my husband good bye, wish him a good day... And we are off to conquer the trails as we know them.

Daughter has found her homework, back pack is on, dog waiting patiently with his leash and I found my keys! One last look at the clock.... AHHHHH... We are running late, but not too late.

We will make it in time if we hustle! We will not need to get the dreaded late slip...

Somehow the late slip is... Well, it is just a reflection of parenting. Let's face it. A kid is not going get to school on their own. They are not going to rise...It is either the mother or father's 'job' to get them there on time. So if you screw up and have to go to the office continually for your 'kid's tardiness... It's just... Well... Just bad...
When I have gone into the school office with my daughter the secretary always casts a glance my way, she puts her glasses on the edge of her knows and says... 'Oh, late again honey? What's the excuse this time?'
Not that many lates but enough to make you want to avoid the condescending look.
I digress, but you can see the motivation.

We are walking along, when a few drops of rain start to fall. Still a clear sky. But the rain starts. We could go back... But there is that late slip hovering its nasty head over us. So we plod on. A few more blocks, that's all it is...
The clouds roll in. From NOWHERE!!!!
The rain comes down in buckets, we are four blocks from school. The point of no return!
We can not turn back and we are just drowning, as we are walking. The running shoes that my daughter has on are squeaking and squishing as she walks. Her hair is matted down on her face.
The mascara that I neglected to wash off my face from the night before is trickling down my face.
Parenting awards will not be handed my way.
But, by golly, we are not going to be late!
And just when I thought it couldn't get worse.
I feel my loose shirt clinging to my body I remember that I neglected to put on a bra today just as we pass a road crew, a crew full of heavily 'testosteronized' men...
10 per cent showers! My ass!