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.