I Promise

Boy, I just have not been in the mood or had the time to blog lately.  But I promise I have some in the works:

1. I Can't Make This S**T Up
2. Extreme Fetch
3. (Goats) Breaking Bad
4. Woman Makes Scientific History on March 1, When She Actually Becomes Younger than Her Son.

Film At 11.

A Letter to My Daughter on Her Birthday... well, 19 Days after Her Birthday

Dear Jessica,

You recently turned 20. I wanted to do some sort of a -- I don't know -- photographic history of your first 20 years. And I wanted to tell you how I am so proud of you.  And how much I love you.  And how I would do anything for you.  And how I know I am not a perfect mother, but I have tried to be a good mom.  Then, as I went through the old pictures, I found some pics that really just summed up you.



Do you see that picture above?  Look, I'm pregnant.  That's you hiding under that pink tent.  That's probably about the last time I ever really had control over you....

 ...now look at the pictures below... that face...that face...

That is the face of a girl who ripped off her shirt and threw it into the giraffe enclosure at the Animal Park because she didn't like the shirt (damn you were quick).  That is the face of a someone who came running to me crying that she had cut her finger -- trying to shave the dog's tale with my razor.  That is the face of someone who never believed in "no." That is the face of YOU.

(Didn't I ever tell you not to make that face; that it could freeze that way?)

The next group of pictures called to me as well.

Once again, I have tried to be the best mother I can,

and I know I have made mistakes,

but some things you just can't hold me responsible for:

you have a certain style, Jessica, you certainly do.

Love, Mom

(ps don't make fun of your sister, Larry.  I have many, many more photo albums)

Happy Birthday!

July was birthday month here in my neck of the woods.  Trish and Stephanie and Vicki all have July b-days, so I went to TWO whole parties.  I don't go out a whole lot.  I'm too old, too tired, and too grumpy, I suppose. 

Anyway, we celebrated Trish's and Stephanie's day with a make-your-own-pizza party over at Trish's.   We had everything you can think of to put on a pizza....

Yum-yum-yum!!!

and of course, we girls wanted to preserve the festivities with a photo op and a birthday toast...

...and as that champagne flowed, some of us got a little more relaxed...

pizza toppings were discussed....

as well fashion and parenting tips.....and perhaps that age-old question arose: Can you feel your nose...err, ears?

...we had  a blast and got some really cute photos............

...but I got to thinking... should we preserve only the "good" photos?  Aren't the "bad" photos, the ones memories are made of?

...how about the one where we girls wanted to show the camera our "best side"...

...or the "true" us...

...or where I'm demonstrating a facelift technique...

...or this one which captures, I think, the essence of our friendship...

...it's just a blur of nonstop talk and waving hands...

and my favorite...

when I'm 80, I want to look at this one, remember, and laugh all over again...

what is it with me and birthdays?

Well, in my latest string of assaults on my loved ones, I missed Matt's birthday.  I didn't forget it, but I missed calling him on the right day.  I thought of it two days before, but thought I'd wait til that day.  Then I thought of it three days after.  Matt is one of my closest friends and confidantes and his birthday the last day of June.  Is it really that hard to remember?  Am I really that much of an airhead?

I never forget Allan's, Larry's, or Jess's birthdays; but I can't remember my anniversary.  I have to pull out the wedding license to look.  Two years ago, I actually convinced Allan that he had the date wrong and we celebrated a day early...

For the last three years in a row, I've called Robert O. the day after his birthday to wish him happy day.  Last year, I was in NJ in August when we celebrated Tab's birthday.  I asked why we were celebrating a day early...and, apparently, we weren't.

I've never gotten Diane's kids' b-days right, and usually call them the day before or the day after to start singing. Sheesh.

In November of '09, I was up NorCal to judge a goat show and spent a couple of extra days visiting Dad and Diane.  I had Diane's birthday gift ready and told her wanted to bake her a cake and celebrate the night I left, since her birthday was the next day.  She gave me a really odd look: Mom's birthday was November 20th; Diane's is the 25th.

I guess I take after my dad.  Long ago when he took me down for a military ID, he put down the wrong day.  When he took for my driver's license, he actually had the year wrong...

Matt, I love you.  I'm sorry I did it again!