Not much to say today. I will recap my week-end, but nothing extraordinary happened.
This week-end I bowled in the city tournament. Not much news there except I did get to people watch. Love people watching. I noticed a lot of women with billfolds in their back pockets. Is this an indicator? I also realize a lot of weird women bowl. Of course I am one of them.
One woman, billfold in back pocket, dropped the ball behind her several times. I've done the same, but not so much in one series. At one point I thought the thing would hit me in the head. I do think the hunchback woman had an advantage....she didn't have to bend much when releasing the ball. My favorite? The woman in man pants. Walks, bowls, stands like a man. But Miss Man Pants has a fu-fu hair do, but no billfold in pocket. Scares me!
I also noticed most women bowlers are over weight, myself included. This perplexes me. Some women bowlers looked as though they had a bowling ball in each back pocket.
I bowled awful. At one point I teared up. I know, "There's no crying in bowling". My teammate and I decided we're there for the booze not to bowl. After a few Scotches I bowled my best game.
Two other teammates and I went out to eat after the tournament. Before the food was served one teammate informs us she is having an affair with a married man. A ten year affair. Why do women set themselves for such heart ache? But Teammate tells me it's the perfect situation for her. Great sex, no committment, not having to pick up after him, etc. But what about holidays? Sitting alone by the fire? Turning to your special other to share your thoughts? I know I'm sounding dramatic, but this is how I see having an affair.
That's about it for today.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
My Up and Down Day
What a day yesterday!
I'm driving to my play date with my daughter. I'm on Beltway 8 where you're putting your life in your own hands. Always tailgaiters and near misses. But yesterday I really had a scare. In the next lane I see a car weaving. I decide to go on and pass. Right when I'm even, I look over. I think he must be on his cell phone. But instead I see the Dreaded Nose Picker! I then notice he is drifting into my lane. He keeps coming, keeps coming, I jerk over into the other lane. Thank goodness no other car on that side. I honk, look over at the nose picker and see he has finally found his prize and is now analyzing. Sure enough he returns to his lane.
I pick up my daughter then head for her new house still under construction. How beautiful and large. We hop back in the car and head for our favorite Mexican restaurant. As usual she orders her margarita. We chit chat talking about various things. Then I see tears in her eyes. It is then I find out she may have Barrett's Syndrome which is a premalignant condition. Through tears she tells me fear it maybe cancerous. Her esophagus may be damaged due to acid refIux she's struggled with for years. The lump in her breast is related to this flare up of her esophagus. Next week she will have an Ultr-sound and endoscopy.
Sidebar: Reader, you will not believe this. The doctor gave her two documents to complete. One is an organ donor document they ask her to sign. The other is a medical power of attorney for her to appoint a guardian to make decisions for her. I was aghast. Is this normal?
I sit and watch tears roll down her face. I get up and hug her never wanting to let go. I reassure her it will not be cancerous. She orders another margarita, we laugh some and she cries some. When I take her home she asked me to spend the night and hold her all night. I think about it, but decide it best for me to leave so she and her husband can talk things through. She calls me later, I made the right decision. Immediately she went to sleep from exhaustion. She did however tell me things would be fine.
I drive home. I ask myself, "How does a mother make this boo boo go away"? I wonder how can I take this fright from her. WHAT CAN I DO? I become so angry I pull off the road. I don't cry, but I beat my steering wheel until my hand hurts.
I then met my bowling team for a league make up game. I've been trying for a year to bowl a 200 officially. I sat there thinking about my daughter. In the middle of the second game I decided I would bowl a 200 for my daughter. Right then I starting striking like crazy. Sure enough I bowled my 200 for my daughter. To me an indicator she will be fine. Needless to say, I didn't jump for joy.
But I know my strong daughter will be fine. She has to be.
I'm driving to my play date with my daughter. I'm on Beltway 8 where you're putting your life in your own hands. Always tailgaiters and near misses. But yesterday I really had a scare. In the next lane I see a car weaving. I decide to go on and pass. Right when I'm even, I look over. I think he must be on his cell phone. But instead I see the Dreaded Nose Picker! I then notice he is drifting into my lane. He keeps coming, keeps coming, I jerk over into the other lane. Thank goodness no other car on that side. I honk, look over at the nose picker and see he has finally found his prize and is now analyzing. Sure enough he returns to his lane.
I pick up my daughter then head for her new house still under construction. How beautiful and large. We hop back in the car and head for our favorite Mexican restaurant. As usual she orders her margarita. We chit chat talking about various things. Then I see tears in her eyes. It is then I find out she may have Barrett's Syndrome which is a premalignant condition. Through tears she tells me fear it maybe cancerous. Her esophagus may be damaged due to acid refIux she's struggled with for years. The lump in her breast is related to this flare up of her esophagus. Next week she will have an Ultr-sound and endoscopy.
Sidebar: Reader, you will not believe this. The doctor gave her two documents to complete. One is an organ donor document they ask her to sign. The other is a medical power of attorney for her to appoint a guardian to make decisions for her. I was aghast. Is this normal?
I sit and watch tears roll down her face. I get up and hug her never wanting to let go. I reassure her it will not be cancerous. She orders another margarita, we laugh some and she cries some. When I take her home she asked me to spend the night and hold her all night. I think about it, but decide it best for me to leave so she and her husband can talk things through. She calls me later, I made the right decision. Immediately she went to sleep from exhaustion. She did however tell me things would be fine.
I drive home. I ask myself, "How does a mother make this boo boo go away"? I wonder how can I take this fright from her. WHAT CAN I DO? I become so angry I pull off the road. I don't cry, but I beat my steering wheel until my hand hurts.
I then met my bowling team for a league make up game. I've been trying for a year to bowl a 200 officially. I sat there thinking about my daughter. In the middle of the second game I decided I would bowl a 200 for my daughter. Right then I starting striking like crazy. Sure enough I bowled my 200 for my daughter. To me an indicator she will be fine. Needless to say, I didn't jump for joy.
But I know my strong daughter will be fine. She has to be.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
My Daughter
Today I heard the most frightening words, "Mom I have a lump in my breast".
Those words can bring a mother to her knees, but instead you reassure and comfort your daughter. You tell her things like, "You'll be fine. It's probably just fibrous tissue. Let's not worry until we hear what the doctor has to say." All the while you say these reassuring things, tears are forming, you just want to scream, hit something, then crawl into bed with the covers pulled safely over your head. You become Scarlett O'Hara, worry later, "after all, tomorrow's another day".
But I know the most precious thing to me will be fine. As I told her, she has good genes. No women in our family, for generations, had breast cancer. Do I dare type those words? There can't be anything wrong with my petite blonde, blue eyed daughter.
She is going to the doctor today. Of course not much information will be obtained today. I'm sure they will order the usual mamogram or MRI.
A sad song plays on my iPod...I jump up, switch to an upbeat song. Too late, tears again. And as if on cue, she calls. I answer with a cheery voice. My 29 yr. old daughter tells me there's no need for me to go with her to the doctor's. Instead she wants us to "play" tomorrow. Play means go to lunch. She will have her two margaritas which makes her laugh constantly. We sit for at least four hours "playing", having our mother daughter day. Oh how I look forward to those play dates.
My Daughter keeps me laughing. She's the type to do karaoke knowing she is the worse singer. She's the type who on Valentines Day, calls me telling me she handcuffed herself to the bed waiting on her husband to come home. She described having candles burning all through the house, rose pedals on the floor leading to the bedroom. I was horrified. What if the house caught on fire? She laughed at me because it didn't phase me about the handcuffs. Her remark..."you're always a mother". Then she advised the handcuffs were pink fluffy fake ones that don't lock. It's still hard for me to picture my daughter with three college degrees in pink fluffy handcuffs!
My Daughter keeps me laughing. She is the only person I know who hits a parked car in the parking lot of the DOT. Why were we at the DOT? To get her driver's license. Over the loud speaker the DOT worker announces there has been an accident in the parking lot. Who is the owner of a red Bronco? I can still hear the laughter. Needless to say, she didn't get her license that day!
My Daughter keeps me laughing. Every night she kneels by her bed, hands clasp together, to pray. I try to convince her she can pray at anytime in any position. She tells me she can't really pray unless in that position. God will take her seriously if she is serious.
My Daughter keeps me laughing. She will always keep me laughing until the day I die.
Those words can bring a mother to her knees, but instead you reassure and comfort your daughter. You tell her things like, "You'll be fine. It's probably just fibrous tissue. Let's not worry until we hear what the doctor has to say." All the while you say these reassuring things, tears are forming, you just want to scream, hit something, then crawl into bed with the covers pulled safely over your head. You become Scarlett O'Hara, worry later, "after all, tomorrow's another day".
But I know the most precious thing to me will be fine. As I told her, she has good genes. No women in our family, for generations, had breast cancer. Do I dare type those words? There can't be anything wrong with my petite blonde, blue eyed daughter.
She is going to the doctor today. Of course not much information will be obtained today. I'm sure they will order the usual mamogram or MRI.
A sad song plays on my iPod...I jump up, switch to an upbeat song. Too late, tears again. And as if on cue, she calls. I answer with a cheery voice. My 29 yr. old daughter tells me there's no need for me to go with her to the doctor's. Instead she wants us to "play" tomorrow. Play means go to lunch. She will have her two margaritas which makes her laugh constantly. We sit for at least four hours "playing", having our mother daughter day. Oh how I look forward to those play dates.
My Daughter keeps me laughing. She's the type to do karaoke knowing she is the worse singer. She's the type who on Valentines Day, calls me telling me she handcuffed herself to the bed waiting on her husband to come home. She described having candles burning all through the house, rose pedals on the floor leading to the bedroom. I was horrified. What if the house caught on fire? She laughed at me because it didn't phase me about the handcuffs. Her remark..."you're always a mother". Then she advised the handcuffs were pink fluffy fake ones that don't lock. It's still hard for me to picture my daughter with three college degrees in pink fluffy handcuffs!
My Daughter keeps me laughing. She is the only person I know who hits a parked car in the parking lot of the DOT. Why were we at the DOT? To get her driver's license. Over the loud speaker the DOT worker announces there has been an accident in the parking lot. Who is the owner of a red Bronco? I can still hear the laughter. Needless to say, she didn't get her license that day!
My Daughter keeps me laughing. Every night she kneels by her bed, hands clasp together, to pray. I try to convince her she can pray at anytime in any position. She tells me she can't really pray unless in that position. God will take her seriously if she is serious.
My Daughter keeps me laughing. She will always keep me laughing until the day I die.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Another Tuesday
This Tuesday is different from other Tuesdays, it is a Scotch (Johnny Walker Black) Tuesday. Needed the Scotch to help me become a blogger with confidence.
Actually I should be working on my genealogy. Everyone in the family wants a book out of my information. Do they not realize the work I would put on myself? Hey, I'm a no pressure person since my mental breakdown in the late nineties. Reader, if you invest more time perusing my blog you will come to understand what caused my mental meltdown.
Through my genealogy research I discovered mental illness does run in my family, rampant. My great uncle was sent to an asylum after running through the woods, naked, wielding an axe. But I also discovered my Native American Indian ancestry. In fact I'm entering research information in my Family Tree Maker about my visit to what I thought was a reservation.
A couple of years ago I drove from Houston to south Georgia to attend a Pow Wow.This is how my trip panned out. First off there was no Wow to it. The so called reservation was a small piece of land that no Creeks lived on. I walked among the crowd spying an Indian wearing the traditional turban headdress. I asked if I could take his picture. When he told me no, I saw only 3 teeth. I told him he didn't have to smile. When he reached for his hatchet I immediately left. These Creeks were so rude I almost went cowboy on them! I then headed to the food. Imagine that. The menu offered Indian Tacos. I couldn't wait to eat original Native American food. My tacos didn't taste any different from the tacos here in Houston...the good old Tex-Mex tacos, except theirs were terrible.
Via telephone the Chief and me were to meet at this Pow Wow. I looked and looked then asked several people where the Chief could be found. Finally a gay man with a wolf skin boa told me he hasn't seen the Chief in several years. Chief NO SHOW wasn't even there.
I also have an excuse for not entering more genealogy information, I'm going bowling. Maybe my Tuesday Scotch will loosen me up and I will finally bowl my 200.
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