The Wedding Shoes

Just a pair of shoes.

Bing, Liv and I went to see a movie yesterday (Everything Must Go...it was not great, don't bother) and afterwards, we decided to hit a nearby Goodwill.

We are all Goodwill fans. Bing is leaving for Berlin next week and part of her agenda involves touring a mosque, so she has to buy a dress to wear. Believe it or not, she does not own one. Nope. Not even one. She bought one last year when she was in Africa to wear to a mosque and when she came home, she had a friend make a pillow out of the dress so that she could have a memento, but no..she does not own a dress. So, she wanted to buy a cheap summer dress to wear.

Liv always finds great buys and so do I. I have a Mary Quant dress that I found at a Goodwill and only had to pay 5 bucks for it. We also have an 8 piece setting Noritake china set that we paid 65 bucks for. It is worth over a thousand dollars and so delicate and lovely that we only use it for holidays or special occasions.

We only have one rule: no undergarments or shoes.

So, yesterday we went to Goodwill and immediately separated, Bing sheepishly going to look at dresses (I actually took a picture of her on my phone, fingering a bright blue summer frock..figured this will never happen again, so why not?), Liv off to look at cds and books and me, just wandering.

I always look at glassware first. I love old patterns of china and that is what we eat off for everyday. I don't have a plain set, I just have a mismatch of different pretty plates, bowls, glasses and coffee cups. Each is lovely and I like to be able to pick a bowl to match my mood when I have oatmeal, etc. I didn't see much, so I headed to the clothing section. As I was walking past the shoes, a pair caught my eye. I slowed and then stopped.

I never buy shoes at Goodwill. I have a theory about shoes. You buy new and break them in to fit your own foot. Goodwill shoes have already been worn in, so they will not properly adhere to your foot. But, those shoes were lovely. I picked one up and fingered the fine leather. I glanced at the heels, which were in perfect condition. I casually checked the size. It was one size too big for me. As I was looking for the size, my eye caught on some ink letters written on the inside instep of the shoe. I looked closer and was able to decipher the words:

my wedding shoes, 1954

I smiled. Turned the shoes around to get a good look at them. How lovely they were and they looked as if they had only been worn once or twice. Just for fun, I tried them on. They were too big, as I thought. I sat for a few moments staring down at the shoes, trying to think what the world looked like in 1954. Before I was born. I have a pair of Peter Fox swing saddle shoes circa 1953 that I adore. I have several 1950's style sundresses that were given to me by Bing's Aunt when we were vacationing in Louisiana. It was an interesting fashion era.

These shoes have a great story, I thought to myself.

A story that I will never know. And that made me sad. I sat with the shoes cradled in my hands and thought about how they had ended up in a Goodwill store. Their owner probably had died. If she was in her 20's when she got married in 1954, then she would be around 80 years old now, I surmised. I absentmindedly tapped the shoes with my fingers, gently, gently. She may have only worn these shoes once. They did not look worn, did not look like they had been worn to a few summer cocktail parties, maybe a nice dinner out with her husband with no children allowed.

I closed my eyes and let myself imagine her life.

Her name was....something 1950's. Debby? Linda? Barbara? No. It was Sherry. She was tall for her age, maybe 5'9 and this always made her feel uncomfortable. She may have slouched a little because of that. She was madly in love when she married her husband, an insurance salesman named Herb. They settled into their little house and she popped out her first child nearly a year to their first anniversary. By the time John F Kennedy was president, they had 3 children. Two girls and then they got their boy.

She idealized Jackie Kennedy. Wore a pillbox hat for the first time on Easter Sunday because of Jackie. I could see her sitting in church, probably a Methodist one, with her pillbox hat perched on her flipped hair, her toddler son on her knee, her daughters with their starched dresses in pastels and Easter hats sitting between her and Herb. Herb had started to go gray already, a fact that distressed him and made her laugh indulgently and tell him that she thought he looked distinguished.

They raised their family in their little house and every once in a while when she was cleaning her closets, she would take out the box with her wedding shoes in them and look at them longingly. Wow. She had been so young and so naive when she wore those, she would think, running her finger along the fine leather. Now, well...she was not so much. She and Herb were still happy, but she thought he drank a little too much at parties and this worried her. And her oldest daughter, well, she had been born boy crazy but honestly, she was only 13! Why was she asking to wear nylon pantyhose already? And their middle daughter? She was her clear opposite, all wrapped up in her science experiments in the basement. She worried that she didn't have enough friends, always seemed to be a loner. And Johnny, her son, her baby. She thanked god for the sheer boyness of him every day. The way that he was always running his little matchbox cars all over the house vroom vrooming everywhere.

She would smile and tuck the shoes back into the box, carefully arranging the tissue paper all around them. Then she would sigh and get up, noticing that her knees were making this creaking sound that they hadn't made the year before. She would stop in front of the mirror and primp a little, turning her face this way and that, hoping that Herb still thought she was pretty.

The years would fly by as years do when you have children. Her oldest daughter would marry young to that boy who was a big mistake, they all could see this except her. She and Herb had spent a few sleepless nights discussing how to get her to stop seeing him but they hadn't been successful. And then their daughter had come home one night the summer after she graduated high school and twirled all around the living room holding her left hand up and trilling that "He asked me to marry him, Mom! I am going to be a bride! Finally!"

The marriage had barely lasted five years and now she was a 23 year old with a toddler and newborn. She and Herb tried to help her all they could, she babysat the kids while her daughter went off to her secretarial job. She had never gone to college.

Their middle child had fared better. She was in California now, some sort of scientist for Johnson and Johnson. She had never married but she lived with that really nice outdoorsy gal who seemed to be her best friend for life. Two unmarried girls who helped each other out. That was so nice.

Johnny had moved to Arizona. He was in insurance like his father and he had been transferred out there after his first year of working. He had met a nice girl out there, a sunny haired girl who seemed to worship the ground that he walked on. They were planning a June wedding.

She and Herb were happy. Their empty nest hadn't been very empty, not with two grandchildren who they were practically raising. Sherry had gone back to work part time as a receptionist in a doctor's office when the kids had all been in school, but she had quit that job to take care of her grandchildren when she had been needed. Family was family and that was what you did: you cared for your own.

More years passed. The grandchildren were in high school now and she was working at a dentist's office, part time, of course. Herb didn't want any wife of his working full time. And he had retired last year and wanted her to travel with him sometimes to go visit Johnny's family in Tucson. Her middle daughter was now working at some software place, still in California. She was making so much money that she had insisted on buying them things that they really didn't need: a new car every year and she had paid to have their carpeting torn up in the house and the maple floors beneath them to be all gussied up. She missed her carpeting, though. She had constant cold feet and the wooden floors didn't help. Plus, Herb was unsteady on his feet these days and those floors could be slippery! But, she didn't want to complain. Her middle daughter had announced that she and that woman she lived with were life partners when they had visited the last time. She had hugged that woman to her with her arm while Sherry had looked with questions in her eyes at Herb. WHAT WAS A LIFE PARTNER? Oh, well. It seemed that this meant that they were like two married gals now instead of just friends. The world was changing so fast now. There was a lot of gayness even on television shows like that new show, what was it called? Will and Grace. That was it. She had sighed and tried to be supportive although she honestly did not understand or care to understand what two woman could do in a bed together. It was their business and as Herb had commented, they weren't hurting anyone were they?

More time passed. Her oldest daughter remarried, this time to another man who was unsuitable, she thought, but nobody had asked her opinion had they? He was a back slapper and talked in this loud obnoxious voice. Her middle daughter refused to visit them because he had made some prejudicial comment about her at their wedding. So, family problems. She hated the drama. Wanted her girls to get along with each other as they had when they had shared a bedroom. She would hear them whispering after lights out and this had made her smile with joy. No more. They didn't speak anymore. A shame.

And then Herb had his heart attack and she had spent nearly a month at the hospital by his side. The girls and Johnny had come back to town then and stayed with her. One night as she roamed the house unable to sleep, she had heard them whispering in their old bedroom, tucked up in their old twin beds. Fear of losing their father had made their disagreements seem small and they had reached out to each other again.

She quit her job to stay home and keep an eye on Herb. He was not the same after the heart attack. Her dependable husband had turned into a dependent one. On her. He became anxious if she even went to a movie with her friends from church. She had wanted to see the new Harry Potter with her friends and he had looked fearfully at her and wanted to know how long she would be gone and when exactly would she be back? In time to make his supper? She had gone to the movie but spent the entire time feeling guilty.

So, she pretty much just stayed home with Herb and it was fine. They played gin rummy a lot and had their shows to watch. They really liked Seinfeld. Sometimes it was a little dicey and smarty, but that Jerry Seinfeld was a funny, funny fella, wasn't he?

She had stumbled on those shoes and thought to herself that she really needed to put them in the Goodwill bag. It wasn't as if she could even wear heels anymore, no her varicose veins were troublesome. And neither one of her daughters seemed interested in her old clothes. Her oldest was always on the edge of the new fashions and the middle one? She seemed to live in sneakers. She hadn't even seen her in a dress in years. She carried the shoebox purposefully to the stack of Goodwill items that she kept on the back porch and then before she even got to the door, she turned around and put them back. Not yet, she thought. Not yet. I can't say goodbye just yet.

Herb died in his sleep. She was glad that he hadn't suffered but she missed him so. She missed his way of making a big pot of coffee every morning for them both. She had tried to make coffee since and she never could get it quite right. It was either too strong or not strong enough. She had never thought to ask him how to make it. And she missed his companionship. She missed their long walks outside when the weather allowed it. The way that they would stop to see how their neighbor's roses were doing. She missed their comfortable sex life. The way that even at their age, they still reached for each other every few nights. The way that his penis fit in her vagina like a bird in a nest. A perfect fit. Of course, one never talked about those things, so she didn't mention any of this to even her closest friends.

Yet she missed him. And she was free to spend more time with her friends now, but really, she had little interest. Many of her friends were dead now or had major medical problems. One was very incontinent and didn't like to leave her house. Another had to lug an oxygen tank everywhere she went.

How had she gotten this old? She sometimes looked down at her veined and liver spotted hands and sighed. Her hands had always been so pretty, so dainty. Herb had loved to kiss her fingers lightly in bed, tell her how he loved her tiny fingers.

She had to walk with a cane now due to the varicose veins. She could no longer garden or stand for long periods of time in the sewing store, looking at patterns.

Johnny and his wife wanted her to sell the house and move to Tucson to be with them. They said, "You will love the warm weather, mom. Those prairie winters are so hard on you now." They were right, she supposed. Soon she would be unable to even keep her home clean and she didn't really want strangers coming in to clean up after her even though her middle daughter was pushing her to do that and said that she would gladly pay for it and even for her to have a "companion" to make sure that she was safe.

No. She didn't want any of that. She liked her long days spent drinking cups of ginger tea. She liked sitting outside on warm days, although she did notice that no one sat out on their porches anymore. She had a man come to mow the lawn and tend to the flowers now. And when it snowed, her grandson or that nice young couple next door were always quick to shovel out the driveway.

And then one night as she was pulling on her nightgown, she felt a sharp pull in her left side. A tugging. It didn't hurt, really, just sort of pulled hard. She looked at herself in surprise in the long full length mirror before she hit the floor. And then she smiled. It was time. It was time. Finally.

Her grandson found her. He had stopped to check in when his mother asked him to since she hadn't gotten her morning phone call from his grandmother. And there she was, dead on the floor of her bedroom, her nightgown pulled discreetly over her hips as if even on her way to death, she had thought to be modest.

Her daughters cleaned out her house. They commented on how tidy their mother had been, how she was so thoughtful even in her old age. As if she knew that this would happen and she didn't want to trouble them. They both cried a little, in each other's arms. They were close now, as older women. No sense in fighting. They had been taught to love each other and even in their big differences, they did.

The middle daughter found the wedding shoes. She pulled out the box and glanced in, made a mental note that these could go in the Goodwill pile.

They did. And now here I was sitting, holding them in my hands.

I looked up, blearily, still a little lost in my daydream.

Bing came and tapped me on the shoulder. Held up a pink dress in front of her.

"Do you think I can pull this dress off?" she asked, ruefully.

I smiled, told her it looked great. It was a nice dress. Very plain. Very Bing. It would do for one wearing at a mosque in Berlin. Liv came up with a book about how to build birdhouses. She pointed at the shoes in my hand.

"I thought shoes were off limits," she said.

I looked down, thinking. "They are," I told her. "But, I dunno. I just want them."

Bing frowned and picked one up.

"CAREFUL!" I admonished her. "They are DELICATE."

She looked curiously at me, but said nothing. She looked at the size.

"Honey, these aren't even your size," she said.

I sat there, my throat closed for a moment. How to explain?

"I just...I just...want them, okay?" I finally said.

She nodded and took them from me..gently..and put them in the cart. No questions asked.

When we arrived home, I took the shoes and found an old Ferragamo shoe box to put them in. I tucked them into the box and pushed them to the back of my closet.

"They're safe with me, Sherry," I said.

And they will be.

That funny story about Maria ripping out the butt of her pants on an airplane

'Tis true.

A few years ago, I was going to NYC for a short seminar. I went alone and Bing stayed home and watched Liv.

So, yes...traveling all alone. I had a plane change in Chicago. I was wearing a pair of my most comfy, oldest jeans. A very, very tight wife beater. And a long man's shirt over it.

Ankle high boots with a fairly spiky heel.

As I got up to make my way out of the plane at the stopover in Chicago, I (do I have to admit this?..it just makes me look so unattractive...) bent over to retrieve my purse off the floor and felt a sudden big...

RIP.

I stood up quickly and immediately felt behind me. I had somehow split my jeans right down my bulbous dainty butt.

No one seemed to notice as we were all rummaging around grabbing our stuff.

I knew immediately what I had to do and it wasn't going to be pretty.

And you know me, it is all about the pretty.

I hurriedly tore off my man's shirt and wrapped it around my waist. This, of course, left me looking like I thought I was hot stuff from the waist up. I mean...we are talking a TIGHT wife beater.

Ok...this is hard. It was Liv's sleeveless tee shirt. (I can't call it a wife beater when my daughter is wearing it.) She was like...8 at the time. And it looked really, really good when worn UNDER the man's shirt. But worn alone?

It looked like a little girl's undershirt worn by a grown woman who should truly know better.

I walked awkwardly off the plane and let me tell you...it was hard for me to even walk because I was terrified that my pants were going to fall down next. I mean..the ENTIRE BUTT was ripped out.

So, there I am mincing like a lumberjack in high heels. In a way too tight wife beater. A CHILD'S size.

As I careened into the airport, scanning crazily for a bathroom, I noticed all the looks that I was getting. Men were in danger of getting whiplash. Because I looked (and walked) like a very drunk lady of the evening. Women were giving me disgusted looks right and left. Because...well...YOU know why. I looked like I thought I was hot shit and I wasn't even walking properly, I was walking in these baby girl steps like I had either just joined the mile high club and been ridden hard or else I looked like a very slutty looking woman who just might be on the verge of an epileptic seizure.

I know I was wild eyed. I was intensely uncomfortable and wished badly for a fairy godmother to come and whisk me away to a nice changing room with some great looking jeans.

I found a bathroom and lurched into it. I practically fell into a stall and then felt around me to grope myself and see what the damage was.

Oh, this was so very bad.

I took a deep breath and walked out of the stall. I had exactly a half hour to make my next flight. I summoned my brave inner self and looked at the damage in the mirror. Several women who had given me the stink eye when I walked in now gasped in horror.

Three of them surrounded me protectively while the rest made a run for the door. My three brave new found savioresses began giving me suggestions. One asked if I had any baggage at all with me.

I shook my head. Rolled my eyes. If I had a bag, do they really think I wouldn't be searching for ANYTHING to wear right now?

One woman asked if I had checked any of the gift shops for clothing.

Another woman shot her down. No, she told her. All I would find would be long tee shirts...but that might be my best bet. A really long LOOSE tee shirt or sweatshirt to cover my ass. She offered to take money from me to go buy one for me.

I was desperate enough to take her up on it. I glanced at myself in the mirror and felt my face get even hotter. My nipples were standing out erect and proud on my chest in my little girl tee shirt. I looked like Britney Spears when she was feeling really, really slutty and c'mon, you know what she wears on a plain jane day.

Another women sighed and then said quickly, "Ok. You and I are about the same size. I have my overnight bag. I have an extra pair of jeans in there, but honestly, they are MY MOST COMFY PAIR and I love them...but I can't stand how sick at heart you look...so..."

She began rifling through her bag and came out with a pair of really great looking jeans and handed them to me. I thanked her profusely and took down her name and address, promising to wash them when I got home again and then mail them back to her. She gave me a long look.

"Please don't be bullshitting me," she said. "Because, lady...I really love those jeans and they are worn in perfectly."

I gratefully took the jeans and went into a stall and spent the next five minutes trying to get my torn jeans off and the new ones on. This involved taking off my shoes and shimmying around in a tiny stall that was not meant to be a changing room, Once, I came perilously close to falling into the toilet.

But the jeans fit well. Not perfectly, her butt was a tad bigger than mine and her legs were smaller. Plus, she was about four inches taller, so they drug on the ground.

But, they fit.

I walked out and the three women who had come to my rescue sighed along with me in relief. I actually hugged the jean lender and I am so not a hugger. I don't think she was either because it was a very stiff hug from both of us. But, I was so, so grateful. Two women knelt on either side of me and rolled up the jeans so that I would not break my neck when I tried to walk in my ankle boots.

We all went on our way then, me running through the terminal in jeans that were just a bit too long and snug in the legs and big in the butt. But, hey..I wouldn't be busting through them that way, right? And at last, my tiny wife beater was covered by the big shirt again.

I made my flight with four minutes to spare.

And yes, I did wash the jeans and mailed them back to the wonderful lending woman. I also sent a gift certificate to Borders Books because I had noticed that she had a book in her hands and figured she would be a reader.

And I included my phone number and address and a promise that if she EVER needed a favor if she was ever on the prairie, I was her girl. She never called, but I like to think that she used the gift certificate.

I also made a vow that if anything remotely like this happened to ANY woman and I was able to help, I would.

I haven't had the chance to do my karma yet, but I am sure it will come up.

So..if you are ever in an airport and you bust out the ass of your jeans and you see an older looking woman in the bathroom with Harry Potter glasses or cat eye glasses or John Lennon glasses (I own several pairs)...I will do whatever it takes to assist you.

Because that is what we women are best at. Fixing things. And coming to each other's rescue.

Right? Have you ever been helped by a female stranger? I bet you have....

There ought to be a rule

Last night, I had insomnia. I laid in bed and thought about the kinds of things that go through one's head at 2:30 in the morning...
1) Please God, if I die soon just make sure that it isn't in front of my daughter. I know that I said I want to go fast but please don't make it happen when I am home alone with my daughter. And I do see the oddness of bargaining with a god that I am not even sure that I believe in...

2) I need to fire my secretary, Nanette. The whole office detests her. I was the one who hired her, I have to be the one to fire her. But how do I fire a 73 year old woman? When I hired her, I was impressed with her plucky attitude. It wasn't until she was working for a month or two that I realized that her "pluckiness" was actually bitterness. She is also passive aggressive, which I can barely stand in a person. She spends whole days sighing and acting all put upon that she had to come to work and actually work. And if I have to hear her noisy sneezes and follow up loud blowing of her nose, I may have to visit a dentist about my gritting teeth problem. God, can't she sneeze like the rest of us...unobtrusively and quietly WITH OUR HEADS TURNED AWAY AND OUR MOUTH COVERED instead of spraying her germs within a 6 foot radius? Her whining voice talking to the patients is almost painful to hear. I really need to fire her.

3) Do I really have to attend my Aunt's 90th birthday party? I truly detest family gatherings. This is wrong of me, I know. Aren't people supposed to love their families? So, why did I slump in my chair when I read the invitation and think to myself that it will be one more event where I have to go and smile and listen and nod while not one person acknowledges that I have a partner? Am I just a bad person to NOT want to go?

4) I need to eat better. Bing is right. It is one of the few things in life that I actually can control and I need to do better.

5) Bing and Liv leave in a week to go to Berlin and France, respectively. Why do I feel as if every stinking summer, I am the one who has to hold the fort down while everyone else gets to have fun?

6) Good hell, it is nearly 3:00 a.m.!!! I have to get up at 6:30! I need to get to sleep. WHY can't I sleep? My bones ache, I am in a soft bed.

7) I hope that I don't end up a bag lady. I really don't want to be a bag lady.

8) I wonder how Sven is doing? Should I keep trying to call him? Send letters? Text?

9) I really wish that the check engine soon light would go off in the car. Bing keeps saying that it is probably bad gas and I will just have to wait until I fill it again and the cycle passes. But, what if it is something else? Something big? And shouldn't we check it before she leaves for Berlin? I don't want the whole thing to explode while I am driving alone to work some morning...well, I suppose that would solve the whole problem of not wanting to die in front of my daughter...which leads me back to...

10) Please God, if I have to die soon, don't let it be in front of my daughter...I know that I said that....

ARGGHHHH!

I finally fell asleep at around 4 a.m. When the alarm went off at 6:30, I felt like I wanted to slug someone.

I looked over at Bing, who is now on Summer break and I thought maybe I wanted to slug her...decided against it.

So, I am up and dressed and eating my yogurt dutifully.

There ought to be a rule. When you have insomnia and spend the whole night tossing and turning and worrying, you should be able to skip work the next day.

Warning

I will be VERY crabby tomorrow if Scotty doesn't win IDOL tonight. I swear that I get a toothache just watching Lauren. She looks like she should be on Toddlers in Tiaras. And GOD...did they pimp her out last night or what? I kept waiting for the IDOL crown to come wafting down from the rafters and land on her head.

And just for the record. There is NO such thing as a blown vocal cord. I have no idea what that idiot of a md was smoking before he came out onstage to diagnose her blown vocal cord but I have plenty of medical knowledge and trust me, it is NOT a medical term.

And GOD...how crass can one get by singing some cheesy "I love mommy" song on the final night of singing. I kept thinking that they were going to have to haul Lauren's mother away in an ambulance. And of course, all the other mothers in the audience were dropping like flies. Not this mother. I looked over at Liv and said, "I swear to god, if you are ever on IDOL and you pick some cheese butt song to sing with a camera on me, I WILL spank you on live national television."

As far as I'm concerned, it was pretty much over when James Durbin was voted out. But someone at work told me that Judas Priest is supposed to sing with him tonight on the finale and I am SO down with that, motherfuckers.

And, keep an eye out for Lee DeWyze, of course. I heard that he wasn't invited to sing which sucks the big one, but okay fine. I just want to look at his visage. I am pretty sure that his clingy ass girlfriend will be with him since she pretty much attaches herself to his hip whenever she can get in camera range, but hey...I will just ignore her because I CAN be nice.

As Liv and I were discussing the possibility of big haired Lauren stealing the IDOL crown away from Scotty tonight, Bing looked over at me and rolled her eyes.

"I never thought I would see the day when YOU of all people became an IDOL fan," she said sadly.

I nodded at her. I am sort of stunned at my pathetic behavior too. But, you know...I gotta be me, dude. I gotta be me.

Seriously, folks...James Durbin was SO robbed. And watch IDOL just to see Lee DeWyze's hair. It will be worth your night....

The meme continued...but IDOL is almost on, so maybe just one..

First, relax...people.

The majority of the hits on my blog are from strangers looking for cupcakes. Seriously. I get a TON of cooking/baking hits.

So, no..even though I know it is hard for you to believe, I am NOT the most popular girl on the block...

Not even remotely. I was just curious to see who was out there.

Okay...back to the meme.

31) WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU?

I prefer English.

32) WRITE A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED.

53

33) BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?

Both, pretty please.

34) WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL THE MOST OFTEN?

Bing.

35) WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?

Gushy women. Especially gushy women who have boyfriends or husbands and have to talk about them ALL THE TIME.

36) HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE COUNTRY? WHERE DID YOU GO? WHAT PLACE DID YOU LIKE BEST?

I've been to Canada, Mexico, France and Spain. I liked Mexico the best. I pretty much bought one of everything and we stayed in a house that was on the sea and I had a perfect orange every single day for breakfast.

37) YOUR WEAKNESSES?

Chocolate. Anything salty. I am not kidding when I say that having diabetes has probably saved me from being obese. I would eat constantly if I could.

38) FRIES/CHIPS, RICE OR BEANS?

Chips. I love potato chips. Especially burned ones.

39) FIRST JOB?

I was a roller skating car hop. I did pretty well, too.

40) EVER PRANK CALLED SOMEONE?

You bet. Harriet and I still laugh about the time I called her pretending to be a poll taker and kept saying inflammatory things about Obama. I thought she was going to crawl through the phone and kill me. ("I want to talk to your supervisor. NOW!") I also prank called Bing. She has yet to forgive me.

41) WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED OUT THIS?

Checking my e-mail.

42) IF YOU COULD GET PLASTIC SURGERY, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

I would love to lose the cottage cheese on my upper thighs.

43) WHY DID YOU FILL OUT THIS MEME?

Writer's Block.

44) WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ON THE MOST?

My sense of humor.

45) WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL?

Stockpile and then drink illegally.

46) WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?

New sheets. Bamboo ones. My old sage green sheets are getting worn out and I can't bear to throw them out even though I think I have put my toe in a hole more than once. I would also like a slice of key lime pie, please.

47) HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?

I always wanted two. But, since I was supremely lucky to get the one, I will have to be happy with her. And I am.

48) WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?

My godmother.

49) WHICH FINGER IS YOUR FAVORITE?

I like my ring finger.

50) DO YOU WISH ON STARS?

Constantly.

51) WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?

Ok..BAD MOTHER. BAD MOTHER. Bing has a meeting tonight, so I poured Liv and I a bowl of Fruit Loops and made peanut butter toast. I'm SORRY.

52) DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?

Yes. I have very pretty penmanship.

53) WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?

Corned beef.

54) ANY BAD HABITS?

Hmm.. I used to be a heavy smoker. Quit when I was 24. I also really, really love junk food. And I don't get enough exercise. But, you know...I have grown pretty boring in my old age.

55) WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING CD ON THE SHELF?

Bing would absolutely say my collection of Lee DeWyze cds. I will admit to a Barry Manilow greatest hits cd. I admit that I like "Weekend in New England." God, I am SO losing my street cred now.

56) IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?

You know, I doubt it. I am not exactly the sort of person who draws people to them. I have been told OVER and OVER that I am (all together now) ALOOF. I have also been called "a vulcan" by a woman who told me that I was way too logical to be loved romantically. I have been called a cold hearted bitch by two women. Not at the same time, though....smiling. Liv's father's nickname for me is "Ice." Enough said. I don't have people waiting in line to be my buddy. Except for Harriet, my bff. She and I are like peas and carrots.

57) HAVE YOU EVER TOLD A SECRET THAT YOU SWORE NOT TO TELL?

Yes. But, only once. I will never do it again.

58) DO LOOKS MATTER?

Sighing...yes, they do.

59) YOU RELEASE YOUR ANGER?

Not well. I tend to hold it in and then it comes exploding out of me at weird times. Just ask Bing. She swears that I am incapable of staying on conversation task. We will be fighting about one thing and I tend to veer off. I say it is because I am segueing into the next topic. She says I am acting like a crazy woman.

60) WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME?

God, I can't even afford the one I have. If I could, I would pick one in Maine, though. On the beach.

And now...I am off to eat an ice cream sandwich and watch IDOL.

Add those to my bad habits....

Tell us something about you...

Here's the deal. I get nearly 900 hits a day.

Just a smattering of people ever comment.

So..I want to know all of you...

What if I ask a question?

Let's see who is out there...

Tell me (us) something that not many people know about you.

Or if that is too intrusive...tell what your favorite movie or book or television show is.

Or answer all above.

I really, really want to know who you are.

And this will help.

I'll start.

Something not many people know about me is that...I am nearly a perfect shot with a gun. How this happened is beyond me, because, seriously...I have never owned one. I only found out at a party out in the country when I was dared to try to hit a can off a fence. And I did it. Perfectly. 4 times.

That is something EASY to tell. Something HARD to tell would be: I stole a tube of lipstick once when I was in my 30's. It wasn't as if I was hard up for cash, I was making good money at the time. I just..did it. Still don't know why. All I know is that my heart was pounding when I got out to my car, undetected. I've never stolen anything again. But...I didn't take it back in either. And I did use the lipstick.

Now...tell me something about you....

C'mon...I know you're out there...

A MEME because I haven't done one in about a year

And I am avoiding the rest of Liv's questions...

And I seriously have writer's block...

And I went to Liv's last soccer game and for some stupid, unexplained reason, I almost started crying as I watched her...even though it is on to swim team now and my Wednesdays will be spent sweating to death at swim meets watching my daughter compete for like...three minutes after I have waited for 2 hours....

And I just got done weeding my garden and I am feeling every stinkin' year of my age, so I need to sit on my ass for a while...

And this meme seems vaguely familiar so I might have already done it and just can't remember but you know...they ALL are pretty much just versions of each other anyway, yes?.....

I stole this meme from Sybil Law and she is really, really SO my kind of gal, all sarcastic and up in your face and laugh out loud funny, so go read her. She says "fuck" more than I do and that is saying something right there....

1) ONE OF YOUR SCARS. HOW DID YOU GET IT?
I have a tiny one on my forehead up by my hairline. I fell down the cellar steps (we are talking CONCRETE, dudes) when I was four. It is my first memory. Falling down the steps and my Mother's terrified face looking down at me and screaming for my Da. I also remember the entire ride to the hospital, being held in my Mother's arms while my Da drove like a maniac and my two older sisters, Patrice and Celia, leaned over the back seat patting me and saying that they loved me. Celia later told me that she felt like throwing up because I was all bloody (head wounds bleed like a mother fucker) but she was certain that I would die and she wanted me to know she loved me....(everyone say all together now: AWWW!)

2) WHAT IS ON THE WALLS OF YOUR BEDROOM?

Hmm. There is a bulletin board that Liv, Bing and I post little notes/jokes/articles on. I still have the first one I put on there. It was a letter that a five year old Liv wrote to Harry Potter. It says, "Harry Poter I need you! Plese come! I will give you a feast or anything. Their is a crisese. we all mis you" I have no idea what the crisis was but it sort of makes me laugh that what she remembers perfectly from the Harry Potter books are the feasts that Hogwarts had. Right now on the board, there are my ticket stubs from the American Idol that I dragged Bing to last year to see Lee DeWyze, a post card that Bing sent me from Senegal last year when she spent the summer as a Fulbright scholar in Africa, the lyrics to the song, "The Moon And St. Christopher", a note from Liv telling me that the main character in a book we are listening together on tape reminds her of me (the main character is a 19 year old girl, so hey...she is spot on), a note from Liv's violin teacher saying that while she believes that Liv is the most gifted music student she has ever taught, she needs to PRACTICE more, and a quote from Anne Lamott that my sister sent to me.

There is a Twilight Calendar because my bff, Harriet gives me one for Christmas every year and she tries to find the cheesiest one out there.

A set of washboards that belonged to my great grandmother.

A blown up photo of the winding road leading to the farm that I grew up on. It was taken in the Spring when the trees on either side look as if they are hugging the road. When I have a bad day, I often look at this photo and think of my Da.

Liv's first drawing of me...I look like a shovel with a nose, two eyes and a crooked smile. She wrote, I lov yo Mama on it.

A pink baseball cap that I wore when Bing and I did the Susan Komen run for breast cancer in honor of my sister, Jessie, a breast cancer survivor and my mother, who died of it. There is a photo next to it of Jessie hugging me when I finally crossed the finish line. She is bawling and I just look like a sweaty mess of girl meat.

A photo of Liv and me that is my favorite. Bing took it. She is about six and sitting in my lap while we read Harry Potter in the rocker. She is wearing her pink nightgown with the blue stars on it and I am wearing my old comfy robe with the man in the moon on it. We both have our hair in braids down our backs and we are both smiling at the camera, looking like we are two peas in a pod.

A wall thermometer because Bing NEVER believed me when I told her that our bedroom was NOT getting cool enough in the Summer, so I bought this to say I told her so.

3) WHAT DOES YOUR MOBILE PHONE LOOK LIKE?

Probably just like yours.

4) WHAT MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?

I am all over the place, but I am never without my Lee DeWyze cds (So I'm Told is the best) or Blue Oyster Cult. I listen to The Reaper when I am feeling really tired after work and driving home and for some reason, this helps. I also have been listening to a lot of Iron and Wine lately and have cried during "Naked As We Came" more than once.

5) DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?

Yes. I was born at 12:01 a.m. I know this because my dear, dead, sainted Irish Mother was superstitious and wanted ALL of her girls to be born with a 7. My sister Patrice and I were both born on the 7th, Celia was born on the 17th and Jessie, the 27th. I started to come on the 5th and I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP...my Mother went to a hypnotist to make her labor stop so that I could hold off until the 7th. I was born at 12:01 a.m. Now you know where I get my headstrong streak.

6) WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?

This is where I could shine and say WORLD PEACE. But, that would be a bold faced lie, so I will say that I wish that I could go for one week without diabetes. One week of eating whatever the hell I wanted. Bliss.

7) WHO DO YOU MISS?

Sven.

8) IS ANYONE IN LOVE WITH YOU OR HAS A CRUSH ON YOU?

Bing better still be in love with me or she is in big ass trouble with me. As far as crushes go? Probably no one. I don't know anyone who crushes on 52 year old women.

9) WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU KISSED?

Liv, after her soccer game. I kissed her forehead and said, "Good game, Miss Stinky."

10) WHAT IS YOUR MIDDLE NAME?

Trouble.

11) THE BEST TV SHOW EVER CREATED?

Six Feet Under. I LOVED that show. A close second is DEXTER.

12) THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO?

Bing. She came over to me when I was gardening and told me that she was going to mow the lawn. I had my ear buds in, listening to Lee DeWyze and when she saw what I was listening to, she said, "God, I just might vomit..."

13) DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?

No. I like the dark.

14) THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?

Jake Gyllenhaal. I was the last one up last night and channel surfing. I stopped on the movie October Sky and teared up at the end when you find out that his teacher, Miss Riley, died of Hodgkin's Disease.

15) WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOGNE/PERFUME?

Chanel # 5. I've worn it since forever.

16) WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?

I am going to change that question to what kind of hair/eye color I like in a partner. Bing has dark brown hair tinged with grey and brown eyes. Liv's father has black hair and brown eyes. Almost every girlfriend I had before Bing had dark hair and eyes. And almost every guy I dated had brown hair and blue eyes. So...I am going to say blonde hair and green eyes just to be contrary.

17) WOULD YOU RATHER BE SMART OR FUNNY?

Smart. But most really smart people are funny too.

18) COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINKS?

Coffee. With a splash of goat milk.

19) WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?

Hamburger with black olives.

20) IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

Probably a blond brownie with a scoop of coffee ice cream on it.

21) WHO IS THE LAST PERSON WHO MADE YOU MAD?

Bing. We took Liv out for lunch after her soccer game today to Granite City. Our server was really, really slow and just bad at her job. Bing embarrassed her by making a snotty comment. Bing ordered a turkey burger. The server said, "How would you like that prepared?" Bing gave her a withering look and said, "Oh, hey..make it rare. I want salmonella so badly." The waitress was obviously not the sharpest girl in the world and she blushed. After she left, I told Bing that she had acted like an ass hat. Bing is often snooty to wait staff and I tell her all the time that she is eating so much spit that she just has no idea is there. That I am SO sure that her food has been brought to her with boogers in it and spit and she ate it all up, not knowing. "It is called restaurant karma," I told her.

22) DO YOU SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE?

I used to think I spoke French pretty well but my daughter has made me think differently. She has been in a Montessori school since she was 4 and speaks fluent French. She makes me look like a total tourist. I also can speak enough Spanish to get myself into trouble. I speak just enough that when a Spanish speaking couple ask me for directions in the hall at work, I can speak just enough. This always makes them start speaking rapidly to me in Spanish and I have no idea what they are saying.

23) WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT THAT YOU REMEMBER SOMEONE GIVING YOU?

A pink stuffed dog when I was four. I had it until I left for college. I named him Pinky. I was so imaginative.

24) DO YOU LIKE SOMEONE?

Very, very much.

25) ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?

No and it makes me queasy to see double jointed people. Seriously. I also feel nauseated when people crack their knuckles around me. STOP IT. NOW.

26) FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?

I buy almost all my clothes at Anthropologie. And Goodwill.

27) WHAT IS YOUR DREAM CAR?

Ok...get ready to throw stones. I would love to have a Hummer. Especially during the prairie winters when getting to work can be challenging.

28) WHAT COLOR IS IT?

Black.

29) WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF EXERCISE?

I avoid exercise like the plague. So, probably taking the dog for a walk.

30) WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?

Probably not. I keep a close eye on my heart. I am very, very cautious in all things that have to do with love. But..I never planned on falling in love with anyone in my life. It just happened. I never sought it, truly. I was always the girl who said I did not want to EVER be in love. And then..there I went...like a domino.

Ok...enough for now. Finish later. Time to go grocery shopping and I bought this new shampoo/conditioner called WEN. Liv and I are going to try it out tonight and be all girly girl and shit.

Night, all....so glad that the rapture didn't take you away from the rest of us sinners.

Maria shares dinner with Ellen DeGeneres, David Sedaris and Lee DeWzye.

Do you do this shit too?

Do you imagine what it would be like to sit down and break bread with people that you like? I mean...famous people. Not your bff who is so dadgummit funny that you laugh until your mascara runs. (And btw, I DO have one of those bffs and I can tell you that they are worth about twenty famous people...)

So, imagine it. Dinner is at my house because I truly do not want to be interrupted by silly autograph hounds. And I am not cooking because I want to look really good...happy and relaxed, not all stressed out from worrying if the chicken is going to be overdone.

So, I'll order pizza. Who doesn't like pizza?

And I'll bring the wine. It will be...let's see...how about a nice 2009 DelMonaco Cabernet Sauvignon? Let's let Lee bring the beer. He used to be a simple Chicago guy and those sorts of guys know good beer.

Ellen, you can bring a few bags of chips and David, I just know that you know a good dessert when you see one. Maybe a nice heavy cheesecake or let's see...a gooey chocolate cake. Nothing healthy allowed.

So, there we are: a bisexual mom, a lesbian comedienne, an American Idol winner and one of the best writers on the planet.

One by one they arrive.

Lee is first because he has this gigantic crush on me and wants to be early to hang with me. Okay, silly boy. I'll let ya..

We hug and do a smacky lip kiss just because we can. We compare our Chuck Taylors. His are much nicer than mine because his fans actually send this guy shoes and I have to buy my own.

Lee cracks some sort of Irish beer and I pour myself a nice glass of wine. We sit on the sofa and since he brings his guitar everywhere, he plays me his new song. It is a song about me called something like Sexy Cougar Mama. I playfully slap his arm, because I am sort of thrilled but I don't want him to think that boys have never written songs about me before. They have. Neither one of us mention that the new song he wrote for his dippy girlfriend is kind of gooey and stupid. Just like her, I think privately. But, of course, I don't say anything. He is one of those headstrong loyal boyfriends who would never cheat on her, although this is MY fantasy and in it, he just has this big ass crush on me that cannot be denied even if we don't speak of it.

Ellen comes in next and she is so funny. She has about ten different kinds of chips because she couldn't decide what kind to get. The blue corn chips? Or just stick with plain potato chips since it is basically what everyone prefers. She has also included some sour cream and onion dip which is really, really thoughtful of her. She says that Portia made it and insisted that she bring it. Portia is quite a cook, she tells us, ruefully rubbing her belly.

"I'm gonna get FAT!" she says, gleefully.

I like Ellen. She makes herself at home, sits down and when offered beer or wine, she chooses beer because 1) everyone knows that lesbians are beer drinkers and 2) wine gives her a headache and trying to be funny on her show is just that much harder when her head hurts. She notices that Lee and I both are wearing Chuck Taylors and she calls him a "nancy boy" because...like...his are spotless. Lee laughs but you can tell he is sort of embarrassed. He's a sensitive guy who likes to pretend to be sort of a bad ass.

David arrives fashionably late, as always. He got lost on the way over here and that is just so David. He does have this incredibly funny story, though, about this sort of rodent looking creature that he saw perched on a chain link fence.

"I was stopped at a red light," he says, "And I looked up and there was this sort of...rodenty creature just perched on this chain link fence. He looked scared to death but I didn't know what to do? Do I park and try to help him down? Do I try to scare him so that he jumps, maybe honk my horn? It was a dilemma and I was already stressed out because I was lost and this cheesecake has lots of ingredients in it that probably will not do to set in my hot car..."

David tends to meander and worry about strange things. But this just makes us like him even more. Tonight, he will be the one who notices that Ellen was furtively picking her nose when she thought she was alone in the kitchen. He may or may not write about this. Maybe he will just hold on to this tidbit for when he needs a funny story about a famous person.

Ellen is a hugger and while I was just fine with smooching Lee, I am not real keen on hugging Ellen since I don't know her well and haven't...um..fantasized about her. Not that she isn't good fantasy material. But, she is more like friend material. And I am not big on hugging people who I am not sexually attracted to or am not related to in a nuclear family kind of way. Besides, Ellen is a toucher and I while I mean that in a perfectly benign, friendly way..the truth is that I find touchers and patters to be very annoying. I am not fond of being touched and am absolutely against being patted. Like if I am sad about something, I truly do not want someone to pat my back. Icky. Stop.

But, I let her hug me. She gave Lee a big hug (they know each other from when she was a judge on IDOL) and I didn't want to look snooty. So, I allowed it.

Who would have guessed that Ellen Degeneres smells like lily of the valley? I would have guessed something like strawberries or raspberries. But, no...she has a decidedly floral scent. Lee smells like he's been smoking cigarettes and I don't mind. I am a former smoker and to be honest, when I smell that lingering cigarette smell on someone, it makes me feel all collegiate.

David is more like me. He and I don't hug, we aren't huggers but we endure hugs from Ellen because she needs it. He and Lee shake hands. Lee isn't homophobic but hey...he is from Chicago, man and guys don't go around hugging other guys in Chicago. David thinks to himself that he wouldn't mind hugging Lee because frankly, he is one good looking guy and David is human, you know.

Everyone is drinking beer except me and I think that is fine because then I can drink the whole bottle.

We all sit down to eat pizza. I have ordered a hamburger/black olive pizza because it is my favorite and I am the hostess. I got a small mushroom one for Lee because it is his favorite but not many people like mushrooms enough to have it be their choice in pizza. David and Ellen both like everything on theirs, so I got big one with everything for them. David picks off the onions on his because he is always very conscious about his breath. Ellen just digs in.

We talk about our lives. I talk about my job and we all agree that yes, it sort of sucks that they all make a lot more money than I do and here I am with the most advanced degree. None of them even graduated from college and Lee didn't even finish high school because he had too many unserved detentions. When he says this, I look up and smile a little bit because my I love bad boys! radar is going off. But, it is battling my I like educated people best radar too.

David talks about how he loves living in Paris. It is easier to write there, he says and his bf, Hugh and he own a house there. Ellen tells this really funny story about how Portia slipped and fell when she was getting out of the bathtub one time. We all laugh and laugh because it is really, really funny to think about someone as graceful looking as Portia de Rossi falling. David tells Ellen that Portia would probably not be pleased if she knew she was telling funny stories about her wiping out like that. Ellen smiles and shrugs. She says that we have to even things up by telling one funny story about something stupid or funny our significant other did.

David snorts. "I fucking refuse to say significant other" he says. "Hugh is my boyfriend. He is not my partner, my lover, my man or my significant other. He is my boyfriend. Like Portia is your girfriend."

Ellen rolls her eyes and calls him a gay snot. Then asks for a funny Hugh story. David thinks for a moment.

"Once when we were out to dinner, he farted and blamed it on the people at the next table. But I wouldn't let him get away with that. I've, unfortunately been up close and personal with his fart smells and this was definitely one of his," he says. "He is STILL pissy about that" he says. He looks around. "Why is it that when you live with someone for about a year, it is suddenly okay to fart around each other?" he laments. "As far as I am concerned, farts are to take place when you are alone. If this means that you saunter off into another room during dinner, so be it," he finishes.

Lee gets up suddenly and leaves the room and we all guffaw.

Lee comes back with the cheesecake and says that he was just getting cake for us. We all laugh harder. He blushes and insists that he was NOT farting in the other room.

"Liar, liar. Pants on fire," I chant. He pours me more wine.

"Here, lush face," he says, "Have some more wine."

David says that it is Lee's turn to tell a funny story about his model-slash-actress girlfriend. He frowns and then says he can't. That it wouldn't be fair to her. We all roll our eyes and David throws a pizza crust at him. "Don't be a little bitch," he says.

Lee bristles a little. "It's just that I can't think of anything," he says. "I mean, god..she is like...perfect."

Ellen and I give each other a girl look.

Boys are so fucking stupid, we are saying to each other silently.

Lee's girlfriend has him believing that she is this natural beauty, that she is sweet and innocent. She is actually very, very calculating. Manipulative. It is the beginning of their relationship and she had to dance hard to get his attention, so she is being very sugary. But, underneath all of that pseudo shy girl act, there is a high maintenance girlfriend from hell just waiting to get out.

Ellen and I both know this because girls just do. We can smell each other out in a way that boys cannot. Lee will be sick to death of her in a year. Or married to her. One or the other.

Like I said, boys are stupid. Really fucking stupid.

David looks at me. He says to tell a funny Bing story.

I take a drink of wine and try to think of something that is pretty funny but not devastatingly so. Don't want to embarrass her even though she isn't here.

I finally tell the story of how when we were driving to visit her aunt in North Carolina one time, how we were driving down this steep, twisting hill through the mountains of Tennessee. She and I were talking about it later, how really, really scary it sort of was and she said, "Those pin hair turns were pretty tricky." I had just stared at her for a moment and then said, "You mean..hair pin turns." She sat and argued with me that no, the term was PIN HAIR. To this day, she will never admit her mistake. Also, she doesn't say the word sparse correctly. She says, spare instead of SPAR.

We all chortle a little at Bing's expense. I feel immediately guilty and know that I will never mention to her that I gave her up so easily at a party.

David picks up a photo of Liv that is sitting on the dining buffet and he smiles. Tells me that she is sure pretty. "But she doesn't look much like you," he says. Immediately, he realizes his faux pas and tries to back pedal.

"What I mean is that you are both pretty in different WAYS," he says.

Say what you mean, mister, I say to him. You think I'm ugly, okay I get it.

Lee looks over at me with his eyes a little starry. "Maria, you are a lovely woman," he says sweetly. Did I mention that he has this huge crush on me? I think I may have mentioned that a time or two...

Ellen reaches over and sort of pats my back and I am intensely uncomfortable. I do not want to be patted and I was JOSHING with David. Why is everyone acting like I was serious? This is annoying.

I get up to clear the plates and suddenly we are all up except for David who says he needs to go to the little boys room. I usually hate it when men say things like little boys room but somehow, I don't mind it when David says this. Ellen and I exchange another look. He will be in there long enough to not have to help clean up.

Oh well, we like him anyway. Lee puts on an apron that I have hanging in my pantry and comes out flouncing. Ellen and I laugh. There are just a few dishes to clean up. Pizza is so easy. Lee rinses the plates while Ellen cleans off the dining room table and I load up the dishwasher. When we all retire to the living room, David suddenly appears with a book in his hand. It is the new Charlaine Harris book about Sookie Stackhouse. He tells us that he found this on my bedside table. I ask him what he was doing in my bedroom.

"Snooping for drugs and sex toys," he says. "God, you and Bing need to step up your fantasy role playing, honey. There wasn't even a vibrator in sight."

I remind him that I have a daughter. He shrugs. "I looked in your bedside table drawers," he says. "All you have in there are a roll of Tums, some peppermint life savers and some dried up pens."

I give him a long look and he scrinches up his face. "I can't help it," he says. "I need some new material for my book."

He holds up the Sookie book and says, "Where is the sex scene? She always has hot sex scenes.." He pages through it and finds one and then reads it out loud to us in this hushy gushy voice. We all crack up.

I can't even be mad at him for going through my stuff. Although, I know that Lee would NEVER go through my stuff because he is not only sensitive but also has impeccable midwestern manners.

After David's reading, we all persuade Lee to play some of his new music for us. We listen. I am enthralled. Ellen is polite, but his music is not really her thing and David is barely listening. He is playing with my iPad and playing Angry Birds with the sound down really low.

Lee finishes up and says he should probably get home. He has to go to the recording studio tomorrow. Ellen yawns and says that yeah...she should get home too. John Travolta and Kelly Preston are going to be on her show tomorrow and while she likes them, it is kind of awkward because they always want to hand out Scientology pamphlets to the audience. David asks if he can take the leftover cheesecake home to Hugh. "He made it, I think he should be able to at least have some of it," he says. I tell him sure and wrap it up to send home with him.

I say goodbye to them all at the door. David kisses my hand, southern gent style. He likes these Truman Capote-ish gestures and like I said, he and I aren't really huggers. Ellen pulls me into a big bear hug and I endure it and sort of pat her back lightly. Lee leans down for his quick smacky lip buss and I give that smack a little sugar. I can't help it. The man is gorgeous.

So...goodnight, David Sedaris.

Goodnight, Ellen Degeneres.

Goodnight, Lee DeWyze.

Goodnight, imaginary dinner land.

Last night, I had a naughty dream.

I will spare you the details.

But, suffice it to say, it was lovely. James McAvoy had a starring role and we were at some sort of state fair. I was eating cotton candy and we were watching some sort of ridiculous clown act. We both looked at each other from across the aisle, both bored and both needy.

And we found a private place by an ocean. A cove of some sort.

Isn't it nice the way that dreams provide exactly what you need? Well, sometimes...they also provide exactly what is scaring the hell out of you, but not this one. Not this one.

I woke up to the morning alarm, the dream still vivid in my head, feeling slightly ashamed as I kissed Bing good morning with the taste of James still on my mouth.

"Any nice dreams?" she asked me.

What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

But, I did put gel in my hair to make it stick up in a nice sassy way and I put the dark green outfit back in my closet and put on the vivid red one instead.

And instead of eating my tuna sandwich at my desk today for lunch, I believe that I will go to that little cafe that serves those juicy medium rare burgers that I like.

I need to eat something a little decadent.

I want to carry that dream through the day.

And a big THANK YOU to James McAvoy.

Maria is nominated for sainthood

Today, I had an appointment with a little six year old boy. His mama, an incredibly young woman of not even 24, brought his little sister with them to his appointment. She looked like she always does these days: haggard. I figured out why. While I had my session with her son, she walked her baby daughter up and down the halls. Even with my door shut, I could hear that child's wails.

Ugh, I thought. A sound I well remember. A baby screaming with colic.

Liv had colic. From the time she was 2 weeks old until the time she was nearly 4 months old, she had colic. I had dutifully read all about colic when I was reading every baby book written before her birth. I also had done my rotation in the ob/gyn ward, so I had heard about colic. Read about it. Could spout the symptoms of it and what to do.

But it never really occurred to me that I would actually have a child who had it.

Until I did.

I have never spent a harder four months in my life. From mid August until nearly Christmas, I endured Liv's nearly non stop screaming. I tried everything, every single remedy known to woman. I tried the tummy water in the nutrition store. I tried bobbling her on my knees while she lay face down. I tried music. Car rides. Nothing worked. I was convinced that my own child detested me. And I worried that I would either go deaf or throw her out the window.

But, I did learn a few tricks that sometimes worked and sometimes didn't. She was like some persnickety queen who was incredibly fickle. What worked like a charm one night at two a.m. did not work the next night.

I rarely got more than 3 hours sleep in a row and it showed. Once, I ached so badly as I walked her around the house that I cried right along with her. But, I endured it and when she finally, mercifully stopped being colicky around the age of 4 months, I was in thank you Jesus mode so deeply that I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. The first night that she slept from 11 p.m. until 4:30 a.m., I was so excited that I felt like calling someone to celebrate.

So, today...I recognized the look of sheer weariness and I HAVE HAD IT UP TO HERE, YOU FUCKING BRAT on that mother's face. And good lord, she was only 24 years old. If I had been a mother at 24 of a colicky baby, they would have had to cart me to the loony bin. Seriously.

So, when I gestured for her to come into my office to talk about her son and she sheepishly pointed to her screeching daughter, I just smiled and held out my arms.

"Let me take her for a second," I said. I thought she would argue but she didn't. She plopped the baby into my arms so quickly that I felt like I had just caught a touchdown pass.

I immediately crouched down, holding the baby facing out with her legs dangling, my hands under her armpits. And then, slowly, slowly, slowly, I rose up. She stopped screaming. The mom's face looked shocked.

She watched me intently as I did it again. As long as I kept moving but SLOWLY, the child did not cry. The second I stopped, she started up again.

"This is only good in emergencies when you don't care what you look like and you just need her to stop screaming for a second so that your ears stop ringing," I told the mother.

She and I exchanged the kind of smile that only two mothers of colicky babies can.

Then I tried tipping her back and forth like a bell, again holding her by her armpits. Success!

"This only works during the daytime usually," I told her. "At night time, not so much."

She nodded, watching me carefully.

Then I sat down and lay the child on her back across my knees. She started screaming again, but I gently rubbed my index finger up and down her nose as if she was a new, strange breed of horse. She calmed, looking blearily up at me.

"I have no idea why this works, but it does," I told her. "But, it only works for about a half hour. Then, she'll start up again."

The mom asked for a pen and paper and I told her everything I knew about taming colic.

1) Sometimes an elevator helps. I told her that one night, I spent two hours going up and down in a shopping mall elevator. She laughed and then stopped abruptly. "Would you believe that I am just desperate enough to try that some night?" she asked. I told her yes, that only someone who is crazed with sleep deprivation and so sick of hearing that high pitched wail can understand how any human could ride an elevator up and down for two hours holding a baby.

2) Skip placing a child in a carrier on the dryer. It doesn't work. Also, the sound of the vacuum was supposed to work but it didn't, I told her. It just made my daughter seem to want to do a duet. Also...all those drops to put in water that you can buy at the health food store? They don't work.

She nodded and wrote.

3) Sometimes gently blowing on the child's hair will work. But, I advised, use mouthwash first. I know, I know...you haven't had time to shower, but are supposed to have time to have fresh breath? I don't know why but minty fresh breath blown through the hair helps.

4) I made a sound in my throat sort of like the chirrup you make to get a horse to trot. That works too, I told her.

5) And hey...for some reason my daughter liked listening to any song sung by Alvin and the Chipmunks. No idea why and yes, when you are sleep deprived, the sound of that music can make you feel as if you are seriously tripping out on LSD, but it worked.

6) Don't bother with sleep sound machines. Oceans and whatnot. Does not work. But, for some reason my daughter found the sound of cicadas chirping at the end of the day soothing. When summer went into autumn, I actually tried to find a recording of cicadas for her, I told the new mother. She nodded and wrote.

I handed her daughter back to her and she started wailing again. The mom took a long breath and then softly blew it back into her daughter's hair. She quieted. Her brother, taking a cue from his mother, blew a little spittily into his sister's hair. She didn't much like that.

Any more advice? She wanted to know. I hesitated and then told her that it wasn't the end of the world if she dipped the child's pacifier in ice cold pepsi once in a while.

I could hear mothers all over the planet gasp and then give me the stink eye, but hey...you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.

Her daughter had finally tired and was laying asleep in her carrier with her brother gently blowing in her hair like a miniature wind machine. The mom gave me a long look and said, "Jesus, I swear to god that I feel like nominating you for sainthood..."

I smiled and shook my head. Told her to just PASS IT ON to another mother with a child with colic.

I told her that there truly is a special place in heaven for mothers of colicky babies. And that she was not only dealing with one but had a young son with autism too. SHE was the saint.

She stopped at the door. "It eventually gets better, doesn't it? Please say yes."

Yes, I told her. For some reason unknown to anyone, colic seems to clear up at about four months and then your child will turn into this incredibly bright and happy baby. Promise.

I ushered her out of my office and watched her walk down the hall, one hand holding the carrier, the other holding her son's hand.

I sighed, remembering. Remembering those days when I felt like I knew what Emily Dickinson was talking about when she wrote "this is the hour of lead." I felt like ALL of my hours were lead.

Trial by fire. That was what it was. And I think I would look good with a halo, I really do.

Anyone else know any tricks for soothing colic?

Taking a break from all those questions...

Forgive me, Liv...I need to step away from walking down memory lane just for a bit. Some of those memories are not easy for me...

So, let's get snarky now, yes? A little snarkiness is good for the soul.

So, here are some thank yous that are playing around in my sarcastic little brain:

1) Thank you to the mystery woman who insists on taking the worst dumps I have ever had to smell in the bathroom on MY floor. I think she takes two a day, one first thing in the morning and the other about two in the afternoon. God, dude...could you just try and arrange it so that you shit at home? Because I like to wash my hands before I start my appointments. I usually have had just one or two sips of my coffee and when I go in the bathroom to wash my hands every morning, you have stunk up the joint.

2) Thank you to the woman who sat behind us at the movies yesterday. I was so pumped about seeing my James McAvoy again in The Conspirator and you just HAD to sit directly behind us didn't you? And you had this loud whiny voice and talked all through the previews about your bone headed son who just wouldn't listen to his mama. Guess what, lady? I don't blame him. If I had to listen to that nasally whine every day, I would probably get arrested for dog fighting in my back yard too. Well, okay...not dog fighting. But, I would try to get arrested for anything just to avoid the sound of your voice. When I turned around and glared at you, you looked at me and said, "It's just the previews, relax." I should have moved to the seat behind you and put popcorn in your hair. I should have.

3) Thank you to the girl who sat at the table next to mine in the cafeteria, monopolizing the lunch conversation with the other women when all I really wanted to do was read. Instead, I ended up half listening to you talk about how super awesome your boyfriend is and how he tells you all the time that you are the awesomest chick around. I also had to listen to how you were jealous of that bitch at the party who dared to talk to him about music. Want some free psych advice? I promise you that you will be dumped in the next few months. Listening to you quote Sex and the City and The Notebook all the time is going to get old real fast for that dude. And guys who overuse the word awesome don't tend to stay with one um...chick. Also, guys who call you a chick are probably not in the relationship to stay. And the "bitch" at the party who talked music? He will probably want to date her because at least she can converse without stopping to show everyone at the table some photos that she took of herself with her phone when she was um...bored. I mean, seriously...it is kind of weird to fight boredom by taking photos of yourself. No really. It just isn't the most awesome way to spend your time. Do you think Carrie Bradshaw would do that? Right.

4) Thank you to the guy who cut in front of me on the drive home and then drove like a half blind elderly man. Creep. And those highlights in your hair do not look natural.

5) Thank you to the cashier at the drugstore where I stopped to pick up some paper towels and vitamins for calling me ma'am not once, not twice, but thrice. I KNOW I am a ma'am. I don't need you to tell me.

6) Thank you to one of the moms at Liv's school for telling me that she is sad that Liv will be leaving Montessori because she always wanted to be my friend and that never happened. "I've never met a lesbian who wasn't a loyal friend," you said to me, looking WAY too proud of such an asinine sentence. Lady, listen. We lesbians are JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. Some of us are loyal friends, some of us are fair weather ones. And wanting to befriend a lesbian JUST BECAUSE THEY ARE A LESBIAN is just plain stupid. For your information, I have noticed you before. I noticed you laughing with another mom behind your hands when one of the teachers was wearing a very unattractive shade of lipstick. I decided right then and there that you were not going to be a member of my tribe. And no, I don't secretly want to sleep with you. And neither does that young single dad with whom you practically break your neck to impress nearly every day. You are an idiot. And your husband is seriously one of the most lascivious men on the planet.

7) Thank you, Bing for forgetting to pick up bread on the way home. I know you have a million chores to do what with school ending soon and all but would it kill you to remember ONE thing? I remembered to pick up your jacket at the cleaners that you want to take to Berlin. I remembered to pick up doughnuts for one of the secretary's birthdays at my job this morning and I also remembered to call the yard guy and tell him that one of the sprinkler heads is all messed up. I asked you to please pick up bread.

Ok...there is a documentary about the freedom riders that I think Liv and I should watch tonight and one of my sisters promised to take me out for dinner tomorrow since Liv is going to study at a friend's house, so I think my crabbiness will dissipate by the next blog.

Isn't it sad to know that I am not all that nice sometimes?

Just keepin' it real, dudes. Just keepin' it real....

Plowing on, # 3

Okay, sweetie pie. So...okay, okay. You froze during the recital. I know. I was sitting there feeling it right along with you. And you stumbled on that part that was giving you trouble. Can I just say that you and I both knew going in that you didn't really LIKE Beethoven's Minuet in G? So, what happened? The truth. You didn't practice it enough and well, it showed. And then you stumbled and lost your place and had to frantically back peddle to try to find your part again. Let's put this down to a lesson learned, yes? Next time, let's make sure Ms. R picks a piece that you actually like and don't just feel challenged by. Baby, it isn't the end of the world and trust me, it wasn't nearly as bad as you thought it was. I caught it because I have heard you practice it so many times. Bing caught it because she is a musician. But the room was filled with those who weren't familiar with the piece or weren't musical. And honey, out of 20 of you, at least half of you stumbled at some point. It wasn't just you. It stings right now and to be honest, I thought that Bing should have just kept her well meaning advice to herself. You knew exactly what happened, she didn't need to re-hash it. When you read this and are much older, you will have perspective. And you will have had much more successful recitals. Promise, love bug. Promise. So...let's go on with your questions, okay?



1) Did you go to a lot of dances and parties in grade school, junior high and high school? Did you like them?

Ugh. I went. I disliked them. I didn't really start liking parties until I was in college and I think that was because I found a group of friends who were so much fun that NOT enjoying yourself was not an option. Plus, as you know...I drank and did a lot of drugs in college and well, that helped. Mind you, I'm not advocating the use of drink or drugs and I fervently hope that you NEVER need them like I did, but I work hard to always tell you the truth and this is it.

In grade school, I DETESTED birthday parties. Thought all the games were ridiculous and my mother always made me wear these awful party dresses that were almost like little short hoop dresses. I always had to wear curlers the night before too and I hated that. The best part, for me, was the cake and ice cream...but the mother of the birthday child would often watch me carefully to make sure that I just ate a tiny sliver of cake and a tiny scoop of ice cream. My mother would always tell them that I was diabetic and to make sure that I didn't overindulge. But, since I was rarely allowed sweets, even a spoonful was fun for me.

In junior high, slumber parties were all the rage and I can't even tell you how much I hated those. I always got homesick for my sisters and ended up sitting up looking out the window waiting for the sun to rise so that I could go home. And I was never into the whole thing where you called boys and giggled. It just seemed stupid to me. If you liked a boy, just freakin' call him already! And the thing was, I was a really late bloomer. I didn't even really FEEL any sort of attraction to boys (or girls) until I was about 14 or 15. Didn't start growing breasts until then either and I didn't menstruate until I was 15. My mother was all set to take me to the doctor to see what was wrong with me when I suddenly started. I like to think that my body just jump started because the thought of going to a doctor for THAT reason just repelled me.

In high school, parties were okay. It was a small town and there was always some sort of a kegger somewhere on the weekends. I never drank all that much in high school, mostly because my mother used to wait up for me (and all my sisters) and if my breath had smelled like beer, I would have been DEAD. A few times when I spent the night at a friend's house, I got drunk. I don't remember it being all that fun. And I always had a boyfriend in high school, I was one of those lucky girls who never lacked for male attention, so I never wanted to get drunk and get too easy for a boy. Not that my boyfriends were the pushy types. They were all really great guys who would more than likely have protected me before forcing themselves on me, but I was cautious anyway. Even when I was just 16 or 17, I knew my path was AWAY from that small town, not stuck pregnant in it. All of my dreams centered on getting away and making a lot of money and never returning except to see my sisters. And that is exactly what I did.

2) Who were your favorite movie stars and what were your favorite movies and books when you were younger?

Hmmm..in grade school, I fell in love with the story of the legend of King Arthur. I had read Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain and something clicked in me, hard and fast. Funny, while all of my friends were into the Brady Bunch and The Partridge Family, there I was, mooning over the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. The sword Excalibur. "Not might is right, but might FOR right!" I was sentient with the possibility that there might really have been a CAMELOT! That perhaps there actually had been a lady in the lake, Queen Guenevere falling madly in love with King Arthur's right hand knight, Lancelot and betraying her husband. That maybe someone as evil as Mordred could actually be taken down. I became immersed in King Arthur, loved what he stood for. And then, god help me, I saw the movie, CAMELOT. Now, you know how much I still love that movie, Liv. Yes, that is the one that Bing thought was kind of silly but yes, that was me, sitting in the round chair, weeping with pain over Arthur's agony over discovering that his wife, his one true love, Guenevere had fallen in love with his best friend and most trusted ally. I have always loved the idea of King Arthur. And Richard Harris portrayed him almost exactly as I saw him in my head. Still picture him. To this day, I love anything associated with the legend of King Arthur. And yes, this is my all time favorite scene in a movie. I just...god...King Arthur's eyes, that pain. And the joy he feels when Lancelot actually rescues his Guenevere. Even though he knows that it will be the end of his round table. The last line in this scene is one that I have said to myself countless times at really hard times in my life: "Merlin, make me a hawk. Let me fly away from here."

Now that I am older, I understand why I fell so deeply into this story. My Da had just died the previous year and I was adrift and so alone. I needed King Arthur. I needed that round table. I needed there to be a sword Excalibur. But, back then, all I knew was that it felt so wonderful to slide hard down that slide with those wonderful legends. And yes, it kills me over and over to see this movie. It may be hard to stay with this clip, but try for me, will ya? It is when Arthur finds out that Guenevere is cheating on him with his first knight, Lancelot and what happens after when she is set to be punished for treason. I love the scene where Arthur is sitting on his throne just begging for Lancelot to come rescue her because if he doesn't then, as Mordred mercilessly tells him, "Let her die, your life is over. Let her live, your life is a fraud."

This gives me an in to tell you something, honey. Once when I told you that I had only been a little younger than you are when my Da died, you hugged me and said that you could not bear it if I died. Honey, you could. Not that I plan on going anywhere soon, but let me tell you something, Liv. You are strong and you would be fine. You are surrounded by people who love you like Bing and your father and all of your aunts and uncles and cousins and friends and teachers and they would all work to make sure that you had a good life. It would be horrid for a long, long time. But, I never want you to feel as if you could not survive without me. You could. And since I am older than you, you will. I make this promise to you now. If I die, I will find a way to keep watch over you. I won't stop bad things from happening, even if I could because you must learn how to live your life and bad things are a part of life. I'm not even sure if those on the other side can intervene. Probably not. I don't really believe in heaven, really. I do believe that we go on and on in another realm, maybe are reincarnated (which may help to explain my infatuation with that round table, huh?) or something. But, if it is possible...I will at least be there for you in spirit. As some sappy song once said, you will never walk alone. I promise. Just so you know, okay. And more than anything in this world, I want you to live and prosper and have a wonderful life with or without me in it physically. I believe in you. I know what your true colors are like Cyndi Lauper says, they are beautiful like a rainbow. And now, this is my favorite scene of all time, Livvy. Look at King Arthur's eyes. Listen. Feel the story.



When I was in junior high, my mother offered to take me to the movie of my choice if I babysat for this friend of hers who had two demon children. I did it and picked this movie:



I had never read Shakespeare. And then here his words were all over the place, flying around my ears, making me almost weep with their perfection. I loved the movie, not so much for the actors or the the scenery. I LOVE THE WORDS. At the end of the movie, I was in hot tears, crying soundlessly as my mother looked over at me in confusion. As we left the theater, she made the comment to me that this was a very sad story and all, but honestly, what in the world did two fourteen year old children understand about love and see what happens when children disobey their parents? No good can come of it, can it?

I was just...flabbergasted. Didn't she HEAR that dialogue? My god, the WORDS. THE WORDS. It had nothing to do with anything else. Just the perfect story, told in perfect words. It was a defining moment in my life, Liv. I realized that maybe, just maybe, I was actually smarter than my own mother. At least about Shakespeare. I'm sure you have felt similarly when I sit there hopelessly confused as to why you find string theory so perfectly fascinating. You must look at me just as I looked at my mother and wonder how I could miss something RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY EYES.

It was the real beginning of my love of literature, Liv. I went on to read the entire works of William Shakespeare and to this day, I can recite whole segments of my favorite of his works: Romeo and Juliet. I had a wonderful English teacher in high school and she used to bring me books from her private collection: Keats, Yeats, Flannery O'Connor, Carson McCullers, Ernest Hemingway. Every genre you can think of. But this movie sparked the whole damn thing for me. It was the first time I heard Shakespeare exactly as it was written.

Later, in college, there were countless movies that thrilled me (Annie Hall, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest) and on and on and on. I still love movies and books. You have grown up with me reading to you every day. We have read the Narnia series, the Bobbsey Twins, Little House Books (SO not your favorite!), and the last ones we read together: Harry Potter series. Now, you read your own books and I try to read them after you do so that I always can talk about books with you. I am liking your choices so far.

As far as movie stars? Hmmm. In grade school, I didn't really have any except for Richard Harris who wooed me wildly in CAMELOT. After that, I saw every single movie he made and some were pretty awful. But, remember how I cried when he died because he would never be able to finish up playing Dumbledore? In junior high and high school, I never really had crushes on movie stars. I WAS enamored with singers. I really had a thing for Jon Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen. And Kurt Cobain. Oh, wow. Yes. Now, I sort of like Laura Linney and Johnny Depp. John Cusack. Chloe Svegny.

Okay...one more and then I will shut the fuck up.

2) What did you have when you were younger that we don't use now?

Hmmm. Another hard one. Let's see. Radios. You don't really see many of them anymore. But when I was growing up, nearly every kitchen had one. Old fashioned alarm clocks, the kind that you wound up every night and then at around the time you wanted to get up...they would make this obnoxious beeping noise. Now, you have your clock radio. Telephone booths. There used to be a lot more telephone booths than you see now. They used to be on most corners. Now, we all have cell phones.

Metal braces. I had them when I was about your age. God, how they hurt. And that awful metallic taste. Plus, boys would tease you by pretending to be blinded by your teeth in the sun. Now, look at your braces. They are practically invisible.

Spraying with DDT. When I was a kid, all the farms used to spray with DDT and in town on hot summer nights, they would spray that stuff all over the place and kids would ride their bikes through it. No telling how many of us died from cancer from that.

When I was a kid, thongs were flip flops. Truly. Not underpants. But shoes!

We ate a lot of jello. Much more than you eat now. Have you ever even eaten any? I wonder....

Typewriters. I wrote ALL of my high school papers and a good portion of my college ones on a typewriter.

That is all I can think of, but check out the comments on this blog. My readers are really, really interesting people. They might have a few other ideas.

So, readers...do you? And how about movies and books? Any ideas? A girl named Liv wants to know.....

Liv's questions, part 2

And I am so cranky that I need to write. My wonderful JAMES was eliminated from IDOL last night, or as Bing put it, "God, he was the best one up there. What the fuck is WRONG with America?" She also added some stupid comment about how a low talent coffee singer won last year, but I ignored her. And no, I don't vote, so I don't have much wiggle room...but god...I will miss James, the one and only metal rocker to hit that Idol stage...the only brave soul to ever bring Judas Priest to the stage.

Ok...carrying on even in my um...sorrow...:)

1) Do you use anything you learned in high school in your life now?

Hmmm...that is a hard one. Mathematically? No. Grammar wise? Yes. The rest of it...not sure. I did learn a lot socially in high school. I learned that the beauty queens were often the ones who were most insecure in front of a mirror. I learned that the ones that had to gush about their boyfriends were usually the ones who would get dumped soon. So...lots of social learning going on. But...academically? I admit that I learned much more in college and beyond.

2) Who was your best friend in high school? In grade school? In junior high?

I didn't have any, honey. I had a group of girls and boys that I hung around with, but I never had a best friend like you do. And I know this sounds awful, but I was a really happy loner. I preferred reading to talking any day. I was never a big sharer, never really enjoyed sitting around gossiping or talking about boys, so I wasn't really good best friend material. In fact, it wasn't until I met Harriet when I volunteered at your school lunch room that I finally found a best friend. I was really, really close to my sisters, though. Especially your Aunt Celia.

3) How did you do your hair in high school?

I was no fashion plate AT ALL. When I was in high school, Farrah Fawcett's hairstyle was really popular and I think that I was the only girl in my class who didn't have those wing things in my hair. I usually wore it in a braid down my back or on dates, etc. I wore it down. My boyfriends didn't seem to mind!

4) What did your favorite pair of shoes look like?

I had a pair of button up victorian boots that I lived in. Wore them with everything. They looked like this. I also wore high top sneakers. They are pretty similar to the high top Chuck Taylors I wear now. I know. I know. Sounds kind of weird, doesn't it?

5) What was your favorite subject in grade school? Junior High? High School?

In grade school, I liked reading the best. In Junior High, English. In high school, English. Are you seeing a pattern? Kind of like your favorite subject is science or math. I think that most people don't change a lot from when they were kids. My WORST subject was math. Always math. Which is why I groan and point to Bing when you have a math question. I am so impressed that you are interested in string theory, Liv. It just baffles me and that is the truth. You are already ahead of me in math.

6) Did you join any school clubs?

Let's see...I was in debate club in high school. And your mama was GOOD! I used to be so good that my opponents would gulp when they saw that I was their debate opponent. Kind of the way that Bing gulps a lot when we argue! I am a take-no-prisoners kind of arguer. And I sort of hope that you never are because it is really not all that much to be proud of. I was never one of the popular girls in high school. I was a real nerd. My group of girlfriends were definitely Hermione Granger types. We were smart and we used to snicker at the popular girls. Not snicker like the goth girls, just your basic vanilla snickering without a cigarette in our hands. I worked on the school paper for a while but left because I disliked the teacher who was the sponsor of it. She was a very conservative nun and she wouldn't let me write anything interesting. So..I quit my senior year.

7) What has made you laugh until you cried?

Your Aunt Jessie when we talked on the phone last weekend. We were discussing this book we were reading about Laura Ingalls Wilder and we both just kept one upping each other and we ended up laughing hard. Some of my best laughs have been with your Aunts, Liv. It is one thing that I wasn't able to give you that I wish I had: sisters. I have never been as mad at anyone or as hurt by anyone as I have by your Aunts, my sisters. But, I have never laughed harder with anyone or loved anyone (except you) as much as I love my sisters.

8)Did you have a diary in grade school, junior high and high school?

I had one in high school. I thought it was very lofty and intellectual. Except now I look back at it and it all seems like play acting to me. As if I wanted everyone to think that I was much more sophisticated than I really was. I think I fancied that I would die young and someone would find it and say, "My god, she was so wise for her years!" Silly really. I keep a journal now. You know that. I write in it every night at bed time and I keep it right out for anyone to read. I figure if I hide it, then it will just be something that you are aching to find. This way, no one reads it!

9) Tell when you got your driver's license. Did you pass?

Good story. I was 14. I lived on a farm and you could get something called a "school permit" when you were 14. This was to drive to school and back and go to school activities. Pish tosh. I drove everywhere all the time. I got it the summer after my 14th birthday and I still remember how hard I studied and how your grandmother used to take me driving all over town to practice. So, I aced the written test and then I took the driving test. The guy who gave it to me was this fella with a handlebar mustache. He kept his sun glasses on the whole time and he made me do EVERYTHING. I had to parallel park (in the small town where I grew up, all cars parked sideways, not parallel, so just finding a place to make me do this was hard) and he tried to make me turn right from the wrong lane and then just smiled when I told him that I could not, it was against the law. At some point, he turned and looked at me and said, "How old are you? 14?" I nodded and he said, "You're already a doll, you're gonna be gorgeous in a few years, the boys are gonna be circling you like flies on a piece of candy, you know that, dontcha?" I was mortified and had no idea what to say so I just sat there. When we got out of the car, I was wearing a short sleeve top and he actually stuck his hand UP my shirt in the back and sort of rubbed my back before we got into the building. I asked him if I passed and he smiled and said, "Um...yeah...I guess so..." I was so relieved and I did not say anything to anyone about how he had inappropriately touched me or spoken to me. I was raised that he was AUTHORITY and you never questioned it. Now, I think back and I wish that I had felt comfortable telling my mother about this. Liv, if any man or woman EVER does anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, you run to me and tell me as fast as you can and I swear to you that I will make it right for you. No girl should EVER let a man do things or say things like to her and get away with it. Ever. Okay...mama is off of her soapbox. Just sayin'.

10) What did your first car look like?

Ugh. It was this big ugly blue tank. No idea what kind of car it was, just that it used to belong to one of the handy men on the farm and he sold it to my mother as a "teen car" for me. He was an obscenely fat man and the seat sagged way down. I had to sit on a pillow whenever I drove it and it always smelled like a fat man's butt. I tried everything to get the smell out of it, but I never really could. I hated that car. The first car I bought on my own was a little yellow bug very similar to the one we have now. I loved that car, Liv and I was so grateful to have it. I went years and years depending on the bus system, a bike and rides from friends...so having a car was like a luxury. I used to walk almost everywhere.

11) What was your first date like?

I was 16. I know that. Because that was your grandmother's rule. NO DATES UNTIL 16. I think we went to a movie but I can't recall what it was. I do remember the good night kiss on the front porch and then walking inside and wondering why all the books made it seem so magical when it was really no big deal. I found out later that when you dated the right boy or girl...that first kiss could take you to the moon and back. And I HAD kissed a boy before. I played spin the bottle when I was 14 and remember enjoying the kisses very much. But, somehow I expected a date kiss to be like...special. I am sitting here trying to imagine you kissing someone and you just seem so YOUNG to me, sweetie! I hope you don't jump into the kissing thing too early. Take your time. Wait for a boy (or girl) that you truly like. I'm serious. It will make a difference.

Ok..babe. I am tired and I need my beauty sleep for your violin recital tomorrow. You will rock it, kill it, get the job done. You will shine like the sun.

And afterwards...we will go out for enchiladas at Guaca Maya! Promise!

Love you more than ten moons,

Mama