Turning 47...

Tomorrow I turn the big 47. Ugh! 47 is old. 47 is almost over-the hill.

Mom invited me over for dinner. I'm so glad to say that at 47 I still have my mom around. She (as I have said in past posts) is my "greatest fan".

Mom made a wonderful meal to celebrate my birthday. Leg of Lamb, deeeee-lish Greek, roasted potatoes, home-made creamed spinach to-die-f0r and a maaaaavelous salad with home-made dressing. Not only that, momma also made a chocolate truffle cheese cake FROM SCRATCH! Yea! She's The Bomb! She threw the best party that a girl could ever ask for! Mom threw me a SURPRISE PARTY! Thanks Mom!

On top of that, I also got the weirdest gift from her. An egg-cooker. Yes folks, I said an EGG COOKER. According to mom, it make the most perfect egg. LOL! A weird gift indeed! But at 47, who gives a rats ass!!! I loved it and it made me smile and laugh. Maybe I'll finally cook a "perfect" egg! We're always looking for that "perfect egg" in life, aren't we?

I've accomplished a lot in these 47 years. I had a pretty good childhood, survived my awkward and sometimes painful teenage years, got married at twenty and raised three kids. They are good kids. I like them (most of the time) now that they are adults. I've been to school, got me educated, worked a few jobs, made a few friends and fell in and out and back in love.

But most of all I have found that in every day of living there is learning. Learning more about myself, being comfortable with who I am and who I choose to be.

I am more comfortable now, then ever, accepting myself for who I am.

I am caring. I am loving. I have made mistakes. I am an enthusiastic cook. I am a hidden artist. I am silly. I am a good daughter. I am a good mother. I am intuitive. I don't respond well to authority figures. I am independient. I am not serious when I need to be. I pull away when I shouldn't. I am a home-body. I am not confident. I am sometimes a loner. I am dedicated. I take silent critism seriously. I'll take on any challenge if I am challenged. I am nostalgic. I am a peace keeper. I am my worst critic. I am proud.

But most of all,

and you may disagree,

I am generous,

I am compassionate

I am humble.

I am myself as I see myself to be

I am ME.

Dear Cim

Dear Cim,

A year ago today you left this wonderful world. In your mind it wasn't such a wonderful place anymore. You were suffering so much pain and angst. I can't say I understand the choice you made but I can't say that I'm angry with you either. All I can say is that I love you and it makes me sad that you're not here.

I miss you.

Not a day has gone by since last September 27th that I haven't thought of you. Most of my thoughts are memories of what we shared growing up together. I know how lucky I am to have had you as a very best friend during my teenage years, as young a young adult and as an "old bag". You were wild, funny, uninhibited, hot-tempered, forgiving and loving. You, my dear friend, were the "whole package" to me.

I miss you.

You're laugh still dances in my head. When I'm super-stressed, super-pissed, super-drunk, super-stupid....I hear your laugh. I feel you laughing at me. I feel you enjoying every single minute of all my bullshit. That laugh. I don't only feel fit, I see it . Dimpled and wide, head flung back as you flip your hair back off of your shoulders.

I miss you.

Time keeps ticking away and everyone you loved and knew are living their lives without you. It's what we have to do, we have no choice in the matter. You've missed a lot in this past year. A Halloween, a Thanksgiving, Birthdays, a Christmas, a New Year, a Valentines Day, a Easter, a Family Vacation to Gulf Shores, a 4th of July, and so much more. I know how much you loved the holidays. You decorated to the hilt, set the grandest of tables and cooked the most marvelous meals. You missed a lot and you're going to miss a whole lot more as the years pass.

I miss you.

I have to be very honest when I say that my belief in heaven isn't very concrete. I'm not so sure about the whole after-life thing. But I hope I'm wrong. I hope that you are somewhere way above the clouds and stars far beyond anywhere my eyes can see. I hope you are in the most beautiful place with soft, pink and purple skies, aqua seas, white beaches and a warm sun that is kissing your delicate skin. I hope you are happy and at peace. I hope, of all hopes, you are happy and...laughing.

I miss you.

Love and Peace,
Chrissa

Bringing in a New Year With Cim

It's New Year's Eve. 1977...almost 1978.

Cim and I are celebrating it together at her her house, a brick bungalow, on the East Side of Chicago.

It's a frigid, icy, snowy, wicked, winter's night.

Cim's mom is out with friends, her little brother away with a sitter, and her older brother out partying it up somewhere.

What are we doing? How are we bringing in the New Year?

Eating boxes of Life cereal, watching old Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers movies, making prank calls and tape recording every conversation we have and call we make.

It is such a fun night. (I still have the tapes to prove it!) I wish I had video tapes of the two of us acting out Fred and Ginger. Cim trying to lead me in the waltz, while I do steps to the Polka.

At one point in the evening, Cim and I get into a stupid fight about something I can't remember.

I am so pissed off that I tell her "I'm calling my Mother to come pick me up and take me home."

I grab the phone and take it into a bedroom and crouch in a corner. The phone extention cord is pulled so tight it might break! I dial...and dial....and dial....

Why wasn't it ringing? I yell into the phone, "Helllooooooooo, Hellooooooooo, I want to go HOME cuz Cim's being a biiiiiiiiiiitch!"

Finally I give up on the call. I assume the lines are down due to the winter storm that's been brewing for the last 3 hours.

I go to hang up the phone and there , leaned against the kitchen wall, is Cimmy holding the un-plugged end of the phone-jack in her hand!

She's laughing her ass off!!

Knowing I was talking into a dead phone suddenly seems funny to me too and my anger disappates. Cim is laughing so hard that she slides down the wall to the floor.

Before I know it, I am on the floor with her! We laugh and laugh and laugh! Jesus, how we laugh!

When our laughter subsides we proceed to taste test every condiment in her Grandma's fridge. We freeze her brothers underwear and eat a few more bowls of cereal - LIFE cereal cuz that is her favorite!

At 11:59 we are squeezed together on the couch, bellies full and content as best friends can be.
Content in our little world as a storm rages outside.

10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-----1!!!!

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" , I say to Cim.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR ", Cim says to me . And then...she picks up a bowl of warm, left-over milk and dumps it over my head!

We laugh again. And then we sleep.

Wonderful World

Wowzers! I haven't written in a long, long time.

My th0ughts were dark, but real.

Every now and then I still slip into that dark place. Thinking about what could have been. But I am beginning to realize that I must accept the fact that life goes on.

Life equals Time.

Time never Stops.

And so....

I go on.

I keep living my life! What a wonderful thing. As shitty as it is sometimes. I am here, in 2009, living my life's joys and sorrows. I am LIVING it.

Today, I am pissed off about work. I'm stressed about buying a house. I'm happy I had lunch with my son.

That, I think, is the point of this post.

LIVE IT! I AM LIVING LIFE.

Sometimes life sucks. But as long as we are breathing and our hearts are beating, we have the ability to FEEL how much it sucks! How stessfull it can be! How good it can be!

That's the territory that comes with Living.

If life didn't suck, how would we ever know what wonderful is?

Life is wonderful.

The simple gifts of nature....

A warm moonlit night by a bonfire. Smell it. Feel it. Hear it.

A cold , quiet, snowy winters morning. Smell it, Feel it, Hear it.

All I am saying is that the simple pleasures in life is what , I think , we need to try to enjoy.

Times are hard. Life is tough.

But we are tough too.

Do me a favor...

Sit back, suck in, enjoy the simple pleasures of this wonderful, wonderful place we are in.

Look at something very simple. A moon, a lit candle, the rain or a star, a song.

Look at it, feel it, hear it...

Set all your materialistic bullshit aside.

And know, that this really is ....

A wonderful, wonderful world

Trying to Understand ...

On September 27, 2008 I lost my very best friend to suicide. She lost her life because of a mental illness that came on suddenly and unexpectedly.

It's complex.

I am not proud to say that I really haven't visited her husband or girls as much as I should. Visiting them rouses up pain and memories that are almost unbearable. It's not their fault. It's my fault. My inability to face her loss and the circumstances of her loss. I guess I'm just a wimp when it comes to REALLY dealing with my emotions when it comes to Cim.

I feel as if I let her down. I feel as if I didn't listen close enough and do enough for her. Actually, I really believe it. When I see her girls and husband, I feel as if I let them down. I feel incredibly guilty. This guilt sometimes consumes me. Somewhere, deep in my thoughts, I think that if I would have dedicated myself to her, really listened better, loved her more, comforted her more, been in her presence more, maybe she would still be here. It's not a blame-game --- I don't think. It's just a "feeling responsible" feeling.

All her life, except for 7 months, Cim was well, strong, healthy and very happy.
She had a WONDERFUL life, a life that anyone would envy.

She loved her beautiful home, her handsome husband -who absolutely adored her and she was devoted to her two intelligent, successful girls who adored and respected her as well.

Cim loved sunning by the pool with a cold beer, singing off-key karaoke, and taking photos of every moment of her life. Her door was ALWAYS open. Friends came in and out all day long. If Cim saw a homeless person on the street, piss in pants, unshaven and down-and-out she would invite them over for a shower, dinner, beer and jacuzzi. She was just that special kind of lady. She rarely passed judgement. Everyone enjoyed her jokes and sense of humor. If we wanted breakfast, lunch or dinner Cim would have it ready and waiting. 6am eggs, toast and mimosa's, 12 pm polish dogs & a cold beer, 6pm roasted chicken & a glass of Chardonnay. She did it all. She absolutely LOVED life with a vengeance. Let me say it again. Cim LOVED life with a vengeance.

And then, suddenly, asome illness took her in its vice and just would NOT let her go. This invisible "monster" needled its way into her mind and dragged Cim into a dark, dark place and just would not release her. She fought very hard and she got very tired. She couldn't' find a moments peace; not in her mind and not physically. She could not eat, she could not sleep, she could not think, she could not live her daily life, she just .... could not. Cim was truly suffering.

She saw doctor after doctor . She was in the hospital many times. She just wanted her peace of mind back, she wanted to know why this happened to her and how to fix it. I don't think the doctors knew the answer. Their answer was just another prescription.

No one could give her an answer. Not any of the doctors not any of her loved ones...not me. I talked to her for endless hours on the phone promising that "this will pass". But in honesty, I was just hoping it would pass. I didn't know for certain. I was just trying to lend her hope. Maybe I was wrong in doing so.

I know that Heart Disease is called the "silent killer". But I have come to believe that the REAL TRUE "silent killer" is mental illness. It's silent because no one wants to say it out loud. Mental Illness! There is such an unfair stigma attached to it. Great minds succumbed to this disease in the past and continue to succumb to it today. There is so much unwarranted "shame" attached to mental illness. It makes me angry. People who suffer from this disease don't want to be sick. Like everyone, they just want to live calm, happy, healthy, peaceful lives. They are NOT crazy. They are sick, strangled, incapacitated, scared and desperate.

I know of some folks who will tell someone who is suffering from depression, anxiety or panic "Snap out of it!" Well I say to them...Would you tell someone suffering from cancer, MS, Heart Disease, or some other sort of disease to "snap out of it!"?

No! You wouldn't because there is medical understanding and known treatment of these diseases. MS = degeneration of the meylen, Cancer= fucked up cells, Heart Disease = disease of the valves.

Right now, science isn't advanced enough to assign a definite equation to Mental Illness. Someday we'll be there, but until then...It's just a stigma. A silent killer, a monster.

It's been really hard. I miss her every single day of my life.

I really want her back. I want her back for her husband and her daughters. And, I want her back for me. I want her back for HER. Back healthy and happy so she can enjoy her life as she once did.

Shepard's Pie

About a month ago I felt ambitious in the kitchen.

Kitchen Ambitchen...Am bitchin' in the kitchen, kitchen AMBITION!

I wasn't bitchin' in the kitchen, I had Ambition in the kitchen....

Okay, okay, enough with the word-play.

I decided to embark on an exploration of Shepard's Pie. Mmmmmm...yummers.

I did a little research and recipe hunting and found that Shepard's Pie can be made a gazillion different ways. There is no *authentic recipe*.

No Authentic recipe = creativity.

I browned up some ground lamb and beef, added a little rosemary, salt and pepper and simmered. Then I diced up some carrots and onion and added them to the pot. Then I added some frozen peas.

Cover and simmer, simmer, simmer.

The aroma was delightful.

I made a rue and added to the simmering stew, which resulted in a thick, yummy gravy.

I transferred the stew to a casserole dish, topped it off with a layer of mashed potatoes and baked till the taters were browned.

Oh lordy, gordy, was it ever delicious.

Michael said, "Baby you out-did yourself with that one!".

I think I'm feeling some "kitchen ambition" today!

Scratching My Head

What makes you feel loved?

Feeling loved is the best feeling in the world. Isn't it?

What makes ME feel loved? After all, this blog is all about me!

When he scratches my head.

Isn't that stupid? But I LOVE it. LOL!!

We're snuggled up on the couch, watching the food channel or American Idol.

We're not snuggled but rather squeeeeeeeezed on the couch. No matter--he's scratching my head!

It feels good. So good. It feels comfortable. So comfortable.

It feels right. So right.

Scratching my head.

It makes me feel loved.

It makes me feel loved by him.

It feels so damn good.

All of it.

Battle of the Sinuses

Ugh! My sinuses!

Just last week Mike and I were discussing his sinus pressure and pain. I told him that I could sympathize with him because I USED to have severe sinusitis yeaarrrrrs ago. I remembered the misery and was so glaaaad I haven't any sinus problems in yeaarrrrs.

Four days ago I woke up. I woke up at 2 am, 4 am and 5:30 am. My throat was dry and sore. Water! Gimme water!

My throat was dry and sore because I was breathing through my mouth all night. Breathing through my mouth because I could NOT breathe through my nose.

I am convinced that I jinxed myself. After all these years, I've got a sinus infection. And it sucks. Actually it BLOWS. Blows, blows, blows. I've gone through two boxes of tissues!

As you can see from the picture above, my bathroom looks like a pharmacy. I am diligently fighting the Battle of the Sinuses. I'm winning! I feel a little better today!

In my fight tonight, I decided to make myself a few cups of hot, soothing, tea before bed. I added a little touch of lemon and honey just for the "comfort factor". I was so tired.

Soooooooooo Tired.

That was THREE HOURS AGO.

Sunday Snuggles

This weekend I did NOTHING. I slept in late and enjoyed my thick, soft, comforting blankets wrapped around my body on a warm, Sunday morning!

I had nothing to do. NOT A DARN THING! Not only did I have those warm blankets wrapped around me but I also had the warmth of Mikes body. That to me, is THE MOST WONDERFUL way to wake up on a Sunday morning. He was sleeping and softly snoring. I love his soft snores. They comfort me.

So. I woke up and drove to Dunkin Donuts. I ordered a hot cup of coffee with skimmed milk. I came home, plopped on my couch and tuned into t.v.

He woke up. He laid on the couch and I squeezed, cuddled and snored with him for another few hours.

I had to go to the Drugstore to get sinus spray, tablets and Tylenol to treat my allergies. He offered to go but I was restless.

Once I got back home I snuggled again and then gained enough strength to make some semi-ok stuffed green peppers.

After chowing down I snuggled again. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Mike had to catch the train to his apartment in the city. I drove him and said my good-byes.

I hate goodbyes.

They don't feel right.

They aren't right.

Especially after a day of Sunday Snuggles.

What I did today....

1. I woke up (that's a good thing!)
2. I made a pot of coffee (and drank it)
3. I logged into work and worked.
4. I followed my friend to the car mechanic and drove her back home.
5. I worked.
6. I went to visit my son Eddie and the dogs and enjoyed a Ceasar salad compliments of Eddie.
7. I worked.
8. I finished working.
9. I cleaned my stove and kitchen floor.
10. I made hummus.
11. I marinaded chicken tenderloins in peanut sauce.
12. I talked to Mike on the phone.
13. I picked Suzy up from the train.
14. I made grilled chicken, asparagus and potatoes and had dinner with my kids.
15. I watched American Idol.
16. I talked to my mother on the phone.
17. I poured a glass of wine.
18. I uploaded some photos on facebook.
19. I edited my latest blog.
20. I wrote this list.

Cim saves the Day...and Me

It was around Mothers Day about 15 - 20 years ago.

I'm not ashamed to say that at that point in my life I was going through a major, major depression. The shades were drawn. No sunlight could seep into my life; even if someone pulled the shades up on the sunniest of summer days. I was in the deepest, darkest, dampest basement of my life. No sunshine could seep in.

Cimmy lived far away in Kansas. She always wanted me to come to visit her but I didn't. I was afraid of airplanes and not confident enough to drive alone. She'd call me and I'd talk a few minutes but have to hang up because I was so depressed I couldn't concentrate on the call. I rarely called her. To be honest I wasn't a very good friend to her at that time. I am ashamed to say that. Even though she would get pissed off and not call me for awhile, she never, ever gave up on me. Never.

Back home in Indiana I was working my hardest to fulfill the role of wife and mother. Being a mother fulfilled me. If it weren't for my kids, I probably would have curled up into a ball and just died.

I don't think anyone could understand what being in a "dark, dark place" feels like unless they have been there themselves. It's just dark. And lonely.

Sooooo, anyway. It was around Mothers Day 15 -20 years ago. That's where I started and want to begin again.

I was a stay-at-home mom and my kids were in school. I had lots to do. LOTS! I was so tired and overwhelmed.

There were AT LEAST three days worth of dishes in my sink. Dishes sitting in cold, soapy, stinky water. Dishes overflowing onto the counter top. My stove was crusty; proof of three days of cooking - dried spaghetti sauce, pancake mix, dehydrated rice and peas stuck in the metal grates and a wooden spoon glued to the stoves surface.

My counter tops didn't boast one clear area. And, I remember very specifically, a bunch of shriveled, black bananas sat in a very expensive Longaberger basket.


The kitchen floor was sticky and the kitchen table was strewn with the mornings breakfast cereal bowls, mail, hair-ties, brushes, clothes....you name it. Basically, my kitchen was a total, catastrophic, dirty MESS.

The rest of my house equalled my kitchen.

That day I had two choices:
1. Go shopping to find my mother a Mother's Day gift.
2. Tackle the kitchen and the house.

I chose shopping for my Mom. The rest would wait till I came home.

Searching, shopping, looking for a perfect gift for my mom I pushed my cart up and down the aisles.
I remember dreading going back home.
I remember how much I didn't want to have to deal with piles of dishes, a dirty stove, floor and house.
I remember being pulled back into that deep, dark, damp basement in my mind.
Ugh! I didn't want to go back home.

But I did.

When I walked in my front door the smell of lemon-fresh Pledge filled my nostrils. I dropped the paper shopping bag and peeked into my living room. Holy Crapola! Everything was dusted and vacuumed. Spotless! I felt a rush of relief and excitement.

Suzy's bedroom was spotless with clean sheets and sparkling furniture. Eddies was the same!

Piles of clean, folded laundry sat on every ones beds!

Lo and behold my kitchen....MY KITCHEN was IMMACULATE! Not a dish in the sink! My stove look brand new!

A fresh bunch of bright yellow bananas sat perfectly in my Longaberger basket.

I could lick my kitchen floor it was so clean. And my table was clear.

Except for a note.


"Dear Chris,

I came in from Kansas and wanted to surprise you with a visit. You weren't home and I waited. I got bored. I thought I'd help you out a little bit and I sure hope you don't mind. Your house looks great (ha-ha).

I love you, hang in there. You are doing a good job. You are doing the best you can!

You are going to be okay. You will get better. I promise.

I love you always,

Cimmy"

I have read that note three thousand times. I just threw it out about two years ago and how I regret that now.

Walking into that clean house renewed me. It renewed my spirit and gave me the ounce of hope and PUSH that I needed. I'm not bull-shitting when I say that THAT very day was the day I started coming out of the darkness. That day I saw the light.

I always told Cim that and she laughed. She didn't believe me.

I realize what she never did. Cim was a bright ray of sunshine in everyone's life she touched. She had a special way of caring about people and making someone feel worth-while and loved. She had a very, very unique gift. And even more importantly she never expected anything in return. She was a "giver" not a "taker".

I believe Cim's light and spirit still shines on. I feel her presence in my life everyday.

In the daytime she is the stongest ray of sunlight lending warmth to my day.

In the night time she is the brightest star twinkling, winking and dancing in the sky.

She IS looking down on those she loves. Praising us and smiling down on us.

And she knows we are looking up, singing our praises and smiling back at her.

Saturday

Saturdays.

Ahhhh....who doesn't love Saturdays? I can sleep in late, go to bed late, and make what ever I want of my day. Love it, love it, love it.

This morning I was awaken by text message from my daughter at 9:30 am.

HelllllllllOoooooooooooooooo???? Please don't text me, call me or knock on my door before noon on a Saturday. I want to sleep in!!! Can anyone relate to me when it comes to my "It's Saturday" attitude?

So, I got up at 9:30 am. Brewed a pot of fresh java and tuned into morning television while coffee was brewing. Just an FYI...I didn't respond to Suzy's text. I have not received another text or call since then. I'm so friggin' popular I can barely stand it!!

At 10:30 I started my "Cinderellas". Dishes, toilet cleaning, floor scrubbing, dusting, vacuuming, etc. Job accomplished by 1:00. It feels so good to have a clean house. I LOVE a clean house.

Now I'm typing out this quickie blog post telling everyone about my wonderful day. I'm contemplating what my next step is going to be. Shopping for a Mothers Day gift? Buy paint and splash some color in my bedroom? Anyone wanna help? Visit some friends I haven't seen in awhile? Maybe tonight I'll gussie up and go out for a few drinks. Or, maybe I'll be in my jammies by 7 , pop some corn, lay on the couch, and watch a movie. Who knows!

Gotta luv the versatility of a Saturday.

I'll keep you posted.

Color My World

Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. I've been UNmotivated when it comes to writing.

I have to be motivated. And, as I have said, I have been very, very UNmotivated.

I have been consumed with work. I wake up to work. I work during the day and think about work when I go to sleep at night. Work, work, work. It doesn't motivate me but it does sometimes consume me. Ever feel that way?

So. Let's go back in time a little bit. I'll fill you out as to where I have been and what I've been up to.

Easter was great.

Mike and I went to my mom's house on Easter Saturday to help her prepare for Easter Sunday. The only problem was that she was already prepared. OVERLY-FIRKIN-PREPARED! There wasn't a thing for us to do! Even dessert was done! My mom is so organized and "prepared" she should and would qualify as a bonified Eagle Scout. "Be Prepared."

I got a bug-up-my-butt and wanted to color Easter eggs. I was surprised when I asked mom if she wanted to color eggs and she said "no". She used to love to do that sort of stuff and that is why I still want to do it now. I love artsy-crafty kind of stuff. It brings back great childhood memories and memories of coloring eggs with my kids when they were little (and not so little). Coloring eggs at Easter is a tradition. It's a tradition for me. So I did. And Mike, like the good sport he is, joined me!


Aren't they pretty!?!


We made an egg for EVERYONE. I was in a delightful, egg-coloring, heaven!!

Red, green, orange, yellow, and Mikes-special- stipes.

Then I made.....deviled eggs. Good-bye pretty eggs. Hello scrump-dilly-isous!

Soooo, Easter has come and passed. Blah, blah, blah.

Love

Love is powerful.

When I love someone it can over-power me.

Is that good or is that bad?

When someone I love is hurting, I hurt. I'm not saying that in some kind of corny way but I'm saying that from deep within my heart. I really mean it.

When someone I love is hurting, I hurt.

It's my individual and personal instinct to want to take that pain away and when I can't do something to make it go away for them, then I feel powerless.

So. Love is powerful and Love is powerless.

Cimmy - Hopelessly Devoted

It's 5:30am on a hot, Chicago August morning in 1978.

The sun is rising.

We're still awake and squished together, cuddled up and giggling in my twin-sized bed. She's farting and pulling the blankets over our heads.

"Turtle!"

"Jesus Christ Cim! Cut it out, you pig!" More giggles and tremendous laughter.

My brother's voice bellows from his bedroom. "Shut the hell up you crazy bitches! I can't stand it anymore!"

Nothing gives Cim and I more pleasure than knowing we're driving my older brother out of his mind. His bedroom is attached to mine and there is no getting away from us. Gotta love those old Chicago bungalows!

Cim rolls out of bed, taking and wrapping all of the blankets around her long, lanky body. She musses her hair up and makes - what she thinks is - a sexy entrance into my brother's room.

"Hey Tony, I'm Sandra Dee and I want you to know I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't rat my hair and I get ill from one cigarette - 'cough, cough, cough'"

"Get the hell out of here Cim. You're nuts!" barks my brother. But, from my bed, I can tell that he is holding back his laughter and loving every minute of it.

Cim starts singing Hopelessly Devoted to You at the top of her lungs. It's 1978 and Grease (the movie) was the summer craze.

I'm laughing hysterically because now my yellow lab, Rebby, has jumped up on Cim and she is using him as her dance partner and acting as if he is her John Travolta a.k.a Tony Zucco. Cim is singing, "My heart is saying Pleeeeeeeease don't leave me. My head is saying dooooooon't let go-o-o!

My bedroom door flies open! There stands my dad in his boxer shorts. "What the HELL is going on in here!? It's 5:30 in the morning, god-dammit! Knock it off!"

Cim turns and makes a run back for my bed. The blankets are tangled around her feet and she wipes out, face first onto the floor! WWHHOOOMP!!! Rebby climbs on top of her and starts to hump her. My brother breaks out into a loud, uncontrollable laughter. Tears are falling down my cheeks and I think I'm gonna' pee my pants!

Cim lifts her head from the floor and her enormous brown eyes look Dad square in the face. Calmly and in her sexiest voice Cim says, "Hi, I'm Sandra Dee, I'm sorry and I love you."

"Go to bed, god-dammit !" yells Dad as he slams my bedroom door shut behind him.

Cim climbs back into bed with me and whispers, "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't get you in trouble. You're dad hates me now." I could tell she was hurt and scared. Cim really loved my dad.

A few seconds later my bedroom door squeaks open. Dad's head pops in, he looks at us with a tender eye, pauses and then he gives Cimmy a grumpy smile and says to her, "I love you too."

Then the door quietly shuts behind him.

I don't think my dad will ever know how much that meant to her.

We couldn't help but love her.

Hey, I'm not Perfect!

My Imperfections....Love Me or Don't.

1. When my kids were little I would pour them a bowl of cereal and pass out on the couch watching Rainbow Bright while they ate breakfast.

2. When my kids were school aged, I'd send them out the door to WALK to school , go back to bed, wake up at 2:25 and pick them up at 2:30. Hey! At least I picked them up.

3. When my kids were teenagers and didn't come home at curfew, I'd go out in my pajamas and wet hair to find them, humiliate them and bring them home.

4. I let dishes sit in my sink for four or five days.

5. I wear the same socks for three days in a row.

6. I hate deodorant. It makes my armpits itch. I'd rather smell like B.O.

7. Sometimes I sleep in the same shirt and bra I wore all day....AND the day before!

8. I rarely make my bed.

9. I floss my teeth with plastic bags.

10. I roll out of bed, throw on clothes, don't brush my hair or put on makeup and go to work on some mornings.

11. I do not take daily showers or baths. I bathe/shower every other day...sometimes every other, other day.

12. I can't figure out my Religion.

13. I don't balance my checkbook....ever!

14. I hate that I love to procrastinate.

15. I am addicted to the Food Channel.

American Idol. When's it gonna happen?

I know I am not the only American Idol viewer who is just waiting.....

......for this

Remembering Cim

It's been five months today since Cim died. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of her. I've never had a biological sister but Cim was the closest thing I could get.

My memory today brings me back the beginning of our friendship.....

We went way back.

She lived in the big, brick, bungalow next door to me on Avenue "H" when I was about 4 or 5.

Cim had a head of hair full of tight, curly, brown ringlets and a dimple deeper than the grand canyon. My Uncle Floyd adored her and called her "Tiny Bubbles". He used to take us to Cal Park and then to Paul's Candy store. He gave us each a dollar and we each walked away with a brown paper bag filled with 100 pieces of glorious, penny candies.

We played dolls out in front of our houses. We dug in the dirt with silver spoons and we giggled and played innocently as children do.

Then she moved away.

About 10 years later I was with my mom buying new shoes and l0' and behold Cim and her mom were in the same shoe store. At the checkout counter, our mothers reminisced and caught up with one another. Cim and I were both about 13. Arms crossed and bored as hell, we just eyed one another up and down. I thought she looked like a Farrah Fawcet wanna-be and later I learned she thought I needed some major "work"... I was a horrible tomboy.

A few weeks later I was riding my bike around the neighborhood and I noticed a fight going on in the Taylor School playground. Curiosity got the best of me so I pulled up, hopped off of my new ten speed and made my way through the mob. There was Cim in the middle facing off with some stuck-up, popular bitch I never liked. I remember her yelling to me "Why don't you dress like a girl!?", when I'd ride my bike past her and her little "click".

This girl was saying some horrible, hurtful things to Cim and it seemed as if everyone was on her side. I don't know why but I spoke up and stuck up for Cim.

"Don't let her talk to you like that Cimmy, kick her ass!!"

Cim looked up, and saw me and when she did, that bitch kicked Cimmy right in the crotch.

Down Cim went and IN I went. I grabbed that chick and pulled her down on the ground. I punched her in the face and demanded she appologize to Cim. I pulled her up by her shirt so she was nose to nose with me and then I spit on. I remember telling her that she was just jealous that Cim was prettier (and Cim was gorgeous) than her and I her pushed her back down so hard that her head hit the cement. Everyone knew she didn't stand a chance. I could fight - I grew up on a block of all boys and I was pretty much fearless. The mob pulled me off of the bitch and scurried away, arms around her crying, sorry, little ass.

I leaned over to Cim and said "Hi, do you remember me? I'm Chris and we lived next door to one another when we were little . I saw you in the shoe store awhile ago" Cim responded, "Yea, I remember. We used to be good friends and you beat all the boys up for me."

And so our story goes. We remained best friends from that day forward.

I have so many wonderful stories about our friendship that I want to share. But I think it's best just to start at the beginning.

I wish our story didn't end.

I miss her.

Time

Today I got together with my family to celebrate my cousins 50th birthday.

You may not see your cousin, aunt or uncle for ten years but when you re-unite it's just like old times. Reuniting with family can take you back to old memories and places.

Carefree, childhood memories of long ago.

Memories of rollerskating in your cousin's basement while your parents were in another room, partying and enjoying the night away. Memories of Mom and Dad, Aunts and Uncles laughing around a dining room table, sipping wine and martinis, talking about old times and discussing current events.

Memories of the bright glow of Uncle John's movie camera capturing you sitting on Santa's lap when he came to Grandmas house. Memories.

I don't know why but when it comes to my family,I find it hard to accept everyone in the roles they belong in today.

Them. My Uncles and Aunts, Mom and Dad were the party machines - grilling, drinking, laughing , watching over us kids and incorporating the fashion of the times. Now they aren't "them". They are the granparents and great-grandparents who could care less about drinking, watching over kids and fashion. They are now content and retired.

Us. Me and my cousins were the pampered,carefree, spoiled children But now we are not. We are the party machines, drinking, watching over kids (and even some grandkids) still keeping up with fashion. We are working hard to make a living.

Time doesn't stop. It keeps ticking-and ticking. And before I knew it I am one of "them". And sooner or later my kids and thier kids are going to be one of "us".

The point of this post is that I have come to realize how important it is to savor and to live in each and every single moment of my life.

Because there is no escaping the fact that some day, maybe in 200 years, someone will come across a headstone that reads: " Christy Matczak Boyle 1962 - ?"

They might think... who was she?

I was them.
They were me.
I am us .
I am you.
I am me.

Daughters

I have two daughters.

One is literally on my lap right now, cuddling, purring, tail in front of my screen. I'm pretty damn talented that I can type like this.


So the other daughter is on a train back home to Indiana right now. She's a riot.

Today she went to Macy's for a MAC makeup consultation and she got all done up. She made an appointment for me tomorrow which I am sure I will not make.

After her appointment she was feeling all 'gussied' and she called me.

"Meet me at the Plymouth for a drink." So I did.

Sitting at the bar, we went through all the new makeups she bought and I tried on her new lip gloss. She said it smelled like cotton candy. I say it smelled like lip gloss. Whatever.

We had a very nice time and she met lots of new friends and she danced. I enjoyed watching her. I have no interest in all of that "extra-curricular" activity.

All in all it was good night. A fun night out with my Suzy girl.

YU&77777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777775.....that, my friends,was my OTHER daughter. Anxiously awaiting a night of cuddling with me.

Off I go with my furry, black friend.

Goodnight. Sweet dreams.

Mothers

I just got off the phone with my Mom. As I have said before, my mom is the best. She is my greatest fan and I feel no need for any more fans.

Tonight we just blabbed about a lot of random things. Blabbed for about an hour. Mom validated all my feelings and thoughts. Validation is a good thing. In between those things she reminded me how wonderful I am. I like being reminded that I am wonderful. Sometimes I am even convinced. At least I feel, for Mom's sake, I better be G-damned wonderful!

Mothers and daughters sometimes feel as if they have to "tread lightly" with one another. I am a mother, so I know this. During a few points in our conversation I felt as if Mom was "treading lightly". Example: "Have you called Scott (my brother) about...[pause]...I talked to your father today.

Mom was WANTING to ask me if I had called my brother regarding the brakes on my car that are on their very last leg BUT she stopped and moved on to something new. How do mothers know when a subject as insignificant as brakes are a "sensitive issue" with their children. I dunno. But my Mom knew. I hope that , as a mother, I know these insignificant, but significant, subjects when it comes to my children.

What I know is that even though I am 46 years old I still value my Mothers opinion. I know she will never steer me wrong direction. I believe that when my mom tells me I am right then I AM right. I know when my mom tells me I am wrong then I AM wrong.

Rewind. 40 years. I am six. Sitting on the front porch stoop, head tucked in, arms cradling my knees and studying my new, red ,KEDS gym-shoes with bright white laces. Mom comes out the door and the white, aluminum storm-door slams behind her. "Hey Teets-a-bell! You wanna go for a walk?" She reaches her hand out towards me and I take it.

We walk. My tiny hand tightly clenched in hers. I want to skip. We skip. She skips. I want to sing "Skip-to-my-Lou. We sing. She sang. We walk and talk and walk and talk. I feel so loved and important. There is nowhere else I want to be.

My hand is still clenched in hers. We still walk, we still talk, we still sing.

Our song is like no other. I love my mother.

Thinking Too Much

One should never take life too seriously.

For the last few days I have been.

Thinking too much. Thinking about where I have been and where I am at.

Thinking about whether I like where I am at. Three days ago I was content. Today I am not. Today I am thinking too much.

It's so weird how the actions of people in my life affect my day to day emotions.

I wonder if that is a good thing. I don't think it is.

All I know is how I feel.

I feel mad. I feel sad. I feel like a wasted lonely soul. Woe is me. Shame on me.

Fact is that I just feel alone. And, for once, I don't feel like trudging and traveling to go visit someone to ease my own loneliness or theirs. I want SOMEONE to come to me. But they are not coming. They know I am lonely, and crabby and bored and need them. But they are NOT coming.

Like I said. I am thinking too much. But maybe, just maybe I need to think about these thing. I shouldn't always be so casual in my thoughts about them. My casual ways bring me to where I am at right now. Not so casual. I am thinking. Think, think, think.

Letting Go

It's hard to let go.

It's hard for me to let go.

It's hard when babies grow up.

It's hard when my babies grow up.

They let go.

I don't.

I won't. They are my heart-strings.

They make my heart sing....still.


My daughter, Susan Elizabeth, was born on a sweltering, August night in 1983. Two months early. Named after my mother and her great-grandmother.

I was young but not too young to realize, for the first time in my life, what true love really was.


Suzy's tiny body didn't match her spirit. Her spirit was and still is enormous. And the enormity of her spirit got her through some tough times in her life.

I have been, am still, and always will be there unconditionally, every step of the way, right by her side.

Her joys are my joys and her tears are my tears.

On a frigid November evening in 1984, I welcomed my son, Edward James. Named after his father.

Eddie was blessed, or blessed me, with a calm spirit.

Never demanding, always patient, this spirit still carries him through the roughest times in life.

I have been, am still, and always will be there unconditionally, every step of the way, right by his side.

His joys are my joys and his tears are my tears.

I miss my little babies. I miss rocking them at night and lulling them to sleep.

I miss kissing their soft cheeks and throwing them themed birthday parties.

I miss sewing them Halloween costumes.

I miss giving them baths and tucking them into sun-kissed, line-dried sheets.

I miss saying, "Good night, Sleep tight, Don't let the bed-bugs bite. God Bless you"

I miss tying untied shoes.

I miss going to football games and tennis tournaments.

I miss having a ton of obnoxious teenagers in my home.

My babies were my heart-strings. And now that they are all grown up and letting go I sometimes feel as if those heart-strings have been cut...and I want to tie them back together.

It's hard letting go.

But I know, for them, I have to.

A Daughter, A Mother & A Trek to the Train

Today is Mikes Birthday! Happy Birthday Mike.

Suzy came over to his place in the city and joined us for another one of my AMAZING dinners.

Ham, potatoes Au gratin and green beans smothered in onions and butter topped with slivered almonds.

Dessert was a dilapidated, yet yummy, Angel food cake with lemon icing, topped with ice-cream, cherries and chocolate sauce. Ohhhh yea! I'm the bomb!

After dinner Suzy and I had to catch a Metra train back home to Indiana.

Oh, how I hate trekking out in the cold, carrying all kinds of crap and catching trains. I hate it. It stresses me out. I always worry I'm gonna miss the train, forget something on the train or screw up the transfer and end up in Who-Knows-Where, Indiana. If I could have one super-natural power it would be instant transport with a tight blink of my eyes. I don't have a super-natural power.

Suzy on the other hand, would be perfectly content if she had to walk 5 miles, take a train with three transfers, and then hop on a bus to where ever she pleases to go. She's a happy, confident little traveler.

Round 1: Preparing to leave Mikes place.
I am in my little "panic" mode. "I'm not taking my big bag home Mike, it's too much to carry. It's gonna slow me down. And, I'll just leave my camera here too cuz I don't wanna carry it". I slip my laptop and makeup case into one of those new eco-friendly cloth grocery bags. I cram my purse into the bag too.

Meanwhile Suzy is sitting on a kitchen stool bundled up and ready to fly. I look up and see my camera bag strapped to her shoulder. She's got a green striped cloth bag loaded with all kinds of shit AND a doggie bag (compliments of me). "Jeez Ma, we're only walking like 5 blocks...what's the big deal? I'll carry the camera for you. Just RELAX! "

So, I put on my coat, then my hat, then my boots ...it's cold in Chicago this time of year. "Where are my red gloves?" I can't find my gloves! Mike politely hands me an extra pair of his and I gladly take them. Suzy gets up from the stool and I ask her "Don't you have any gloves?" She responds, "Nope, I forgot 'em. I got pockets" and, she slips her hands into her pockets. Off we go. Suzy carrying a 10 pound bag, camera case, and leftovers. Me carrying one light bag.

Round two: The Trek to the Train
Out the door I am now in my "mad dash" mode. I do not want to miss the train! Head down and shoulders hunched, wind in my face, I'm taking quick short steps.

Suzy - "Mom, we have plenty of time. We are not going to miss the train. It's only a short walk!"
Me - " I know, I know! I'm just cold! " walk, walk, walk, walk...hurry hurry hurry....
Suzy - " Uh -huh. Aren't you glad I decided to carry your camera. It's not heavy. "
Me - "Yea, thanks Suz. I don't know why I get so stressed out. I'm fine now." walk, walk, walk, walk...hurry hurry hurry....

I decide to make a mad-dash across a very busy city street and I make it to the icy meridian. I look to my left, no Suzy. I look to my right, no Suzy. I look behind me and there is Suzy. She yells to me ... "I'm not going to dodge cars and risk my life for no reason!" She gets the light and catches up to me. "Jesus mother, you're so funny! Just Relax! We've got plenty of time. " I squeeze my brows together, "I am relaxed. I'm just cold." walk, walk, walk, walk...hurry hurry hurry....

After our quick, brisk, frigid walk we finally make it to the train station. I'm sweating. "We only have to wait 16 minutes now for the train" says Suzy. I look up at her and say..."Did it only take us five minutes to get here?" Suzy rolls her eyes, laughs, "Yup". We grab a bench and wait the 16 minutes for our train to arrive. During that 16 minutes I call my son and remind him, that our train will be in at 9 pm. Lord knows, I don't want him to forget to pick us up. Suzy just stares up at me with her big green eyes, calm as a cucumber.

Final Round: On the Train
We settle into two comfy seats on the train. I'm sitting up straight as a board, in my "must stay alert mode". Bag on lap, tightly clenched and obviously very concerned. We have to transfer. I hate transfers. Where do we transfer? What if we miss our transfer? Suzy senses my concern and reassures me.

Suzy - "Mom, we transfer at 63rd street and the conductor will announce it. Really its not big deal, I do it all the time"
Me - "Are you sure it's 63rd?"
Suzy - "Yes, I am absolutely sure! I do this all the time" she giggles.
Me - "Okay"

A little idle chit-chat and then the conductor came to punch our tickets. As he was punching mine I asked "Sir, where do we transfer for South Chicago?" He responds, "63rd". Suzy looks at me in disbelief . "Good Lord Mother! I told you 63rd! " She did tell me 63rd and now so did the conductor.

Once we transfered I relaxed for the last stretch home. Suzy and I debated whether a red-wigged, 6'2" person wearing a long black overcoat and red baseball cap was a man or a woman. I said man, she said woman. She won the debate after pointing out the fur neckline on the coat. We laughed. Suzy also counted out and described every single pair of shoes that her brother's new dog destroyed. We laughed. We chatted about whether the new 150 pound pup is cute or not. He ate the new couch, had a paperplate stuck on his head after a romp in the garbage and his dried-up drool on the ottomon looks like some horny man was in the living room enjoying a healthy night of porn. I say - destructive, Suzy says - Cute. We laughed.

When the train pulled up, my son Eddie was there to pick us up. On the car ride home, Suzy and I chatted away. Not once did she mention my horrible traveling antics. Not once. Finally home, as Suz got out of the car, she peeked her head back inside, smiled wide and said...."Goodnight momma, I love you."

God, I love her too!

This Day in American History...

Today is a Proud Moment in American History.

Barack Obama, the son of a black Kenyan father and white American mother, laid his hand on the same Bible that Abraham Lincoln used at his inauguration in 1861 to take the oath of office.

Here is how I spent this day in History. Quoting from Barack's Inaugural speech....

"Yet, every so often, the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms"

"Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year."

" Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America."

"Let it be told to the future world ... that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive... that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]."

GOD BLESS AMERICA!

Mystery Fish

...and I had a very good time. I went fishing and got sunburn.

And when I got home, Mr. Plecostomus was nowhere to be found.

I asked my fish-sitter if any fish died. She said "not that I know of".

I was very disturbed.

Where did Mr. Plecostomus go? He wasn't hiding anywhere cuz I looked good and hard. He wasn't floating anywhere. He wasn't in the filter. Mr. Plecostoms just vanished. Never to be seen again.

And so there were 6.

Last month, I went to Washington for the holidays. I left my daughter to care for my six little fish.

I had a very good time. I ate good food and drank good wine.

And when I got home. Three little fishies were gone! Just like Mr. Plecostomus. My White Clouds weren't hiding, floating or in the filter. They vanished. Never to be seen again...

Officially Over?

Christmas is officially over. Or is it?

I went to mom's house and took down all of her Christmas decorations.
All the decorations that Mike and I put up. She had a head start on things thank goodness!
All the ornaments were off the tree, wrapped in paper, and placed carefully in a large, plastic container. That saved A LOT of time. Thanks Mom!

I unmantled the tree and put it back into it's cardboard bed to rest for another year.
Up and down with boxes galore. Finally, the job was done.

Christmas is officially over.

Or is it? Mike still has all his decors up. I still have all my stuff up.

On my drive home, I saw quite a few Christmas trees a-blazing in living room window.

When I arrived home I had a tax statement in my pile of mail. So THAT declares CHRISTMAS IS OVER...IT'S TAX SEASON.

But then again, it ain't over till it's over.

One year I had Santa on my balcony until Mid-April. Ho-Ho-Ho!

Comfort

I have been struggling with sleep. Restless nights make long days.

But tonight

Looking out my bedroom window....

I welcome a peaceful midnight snow

Dotting the skies under a street-lights glow

Pillowy snowflakes dance their way to the ground

A low distant foghorn is the only sound

A gentle white blanket drapes the steet

Untouched and untainted by mortal feet

I feel comforted, climb into bed

And hope that sugarplums will dance in my head

On this cold and glorious winters night.

Cooking 2009 - How to Boil Water (A must read)

For New Years Eve last year Michael and I made a WONDERFUL four course meal: appetizers, first course, second course, and dessert from scratch. We vowed to do the same for this year but circumstances beyond our control rendered us too exhausted and unenthusiastic to bring in 2009 in gourmet style.

After much sleep and pure boredom we decided to cook "a meal" on New Years Day!

I found a wonderful recipe for shrimp and scallops in Alfredo sauce and whipped up a grocery list. Much to our dismay Jewel was closed so we had to scratch the list and resort to making a meal out of what we had in the house.

(You are now in my head )

Freezer check - "shrimp and scallops , THAT'S a great start"
Fridge check - "No cream, no Parmesan, no, no, uhhhh, SCRAP the Alfredo sauce. Hmmm....wine, butter (lots of butter) green-peppers. That would make a great sauce."
Casual Kitchen Scan - "Garlic and onions. More for the sauce. "

Hmm...I need a appetizer.

Freezer check - "Edamame. Light, healthy, green. Perfect appetizer."

(You are now out of my head and back to reading my blog)

The mood is light, music in the background. I haven't had a cigarette in four days and was "patch less" I was feeling a little bit on the edge. If one stays out of my way, gives me full control of the kitchen and treads lightly, things would be okay. Mike loves to help in the kitchen. Uh-oh.

Time to make the Edamame. Just boil water, throw the edamame in water, bring back to boil, cook five minutes, strain. Easy, right? Not!

I grab a pot out from under the cabinet. Mike informs me the pot is not big enough. I look at the pot. I look at the bag of edamame. The pot is NOT big enough. I grab a bigger pot. I think I want a cigarette.

I proceed to fill the pot with water. HOT water...to get the boil going quicker. I've been doing this since age two (world according to me). Mike innocently turns the water to cold. I turn the water back to hot. Mike turns the water back to cold. My head gets hot.

I have a sudden urge for a cigarette.

Me: "What are you doing?"
Mike: "You should always start with cold"
I'm thinking to myself that I know how to boil water.....
Me: "Noooooooo, I start with HOT", I say as I feel myself getting very irritated. "I know how to boil water"
Mike: "Hot water is not as healthy, you should always start with cold water"

I'm done. I know how to boil water dammit! I give up. I leave him to the pot of water and let him start boiling away....a long, cold, boil away.

I sit at my computer, login to face book and sarcastically write that "Christy is learning how to boil water".

To prove him wrong I look up "how to boil water" on the internet. I was going to research and prove to him that hot water did boil faster and that cold water didn't frickin' matter! I was going to find it AND read it to him!!

Guess what? Every article I found (and believe me, I found a lot of articles) proved that HE wasn't wrong. Hot water has to go through the hot water boiler and isn't as "healthy". There is a lot of nasty crap and germs that water grabs on to when it goes through the hot water heater. And, at all costs, use cold when cooking.

I was wrong. He was right. If my foot could reach my ass, I would kick myself. But no need for him know this. I got up from the stool as he ran cold water over the boiled edamame and then I proceeded to make a wonderful dinner. Shrimp and scallops in a white wine, butter, garlic, onion, green pepper sauce over angel hair pasta (cooked in boiled cold water).

Dinner was wonderful.

And, I learned how to boil water.