Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, & Giggles

I never expected that at the age of 35 I would be introduced to a woman who could potentially become my second step-mother. My dad divorced my mother when I was six and within a year or so was in a relationship with a woman who became a constant, stable figure in my life. I'll call her "H". My dad and H lived together with her three children for almost ten years when they finally got married. They were married for another 16 years. Life at their house was good. I got along well with my step-siblings and it was family. It was my family.

It was also home base. As each of us left for college, we always made our way back home to this cozy cape code in Connecticut for holidays or breaks to reunite and share that family time together. It wasn't perfect, but it was home.

Three years ago my dad and H separated. I think we all knew they were going through some bumps, but none of us were expecting it to end in divorce. It did. Just like that.

So yesterday I find myself driving to Philadelphia to meet a woman my dad has been dating for nine months. He calls her Giggles and he enjoys her company and companionship greatly. I am torn. Torn between the family that was – the nostalgia of childhood and home and the memories that not only I hold near, but that my boys began to hold dear in the few years that they too felt this place as a sort of home. Torn between that...and the desire to want my dad to not be lonely, to have a companion, to enjoy the rest of his life with someone.

I had already decided that I would hug her when I greeted her. I'm a hugger and I wanted to just be myself. So as I walked across the Independence Hall Visitor's Center lawn to the Bourse Cafe I prepared myself for the embrace and the hours that would follow. Questions swarmed around in my head as I heard the clip-clop of the horse and carriages while I crossed 5th street. And there she was. We both initiated the embrace without hesitation. She offered me one of the waters she had just purchased and the afternoon commenced. We talked, walked, enjoyed the rich history of Old Town, ate treats, visited the B & B where they'd be staying, and eventually went to dinner.

After only eight hours together it was evident why my dad likes Giggles. She's spunky, considerate, attractive, intelligent, confident, and has a fantastic sense of humor. I left Phili at 10:30 last night to drive the hour home. It was a peaceful drive.

I'm glad I went. And I'm glad my dad has Giggles to keep him company.

The Coming Out

Each year 'round the very same hour
they grace my home with dainty power
and march along, strong as a tower,
looking for some food.

One by one they follow each other
orders given by Queen to all brothers
working hard to have their druthers
they pillage then move on.

A few drops of maple syrup left
they gather around and exert their deft
a sugary trail of tree sap theft
my counter now a mess.

Their pilgrimage is far from over
each surface of this place they'll cover
with raid can in my hand i'll hover
till arthropods are gone!

Spoiled

As a single mom for the last three years I've been a little spoiled. I live in a town home community and have been here for six years. After we became friendly with a few neighbors the lawn mowing became sort of a community affair among a few of us. When Scott or Jay or Chuck pulled out his mower, the other friends' lawns received the mowing benefit. I was never part of that deal because I'm allergic to mowed grass. So, my then "other half" did it. Then our mower died.

Before we replaced it the separation occurred. And my lawn has been being mowed by these kind fellas ever since. Now, don't think me a moocher. I gave money or gift cards and thank you notes...and verbal thank yous galore. But still, each time I heard that mower I felt both relief and a torrent of guilt wash over me.

Since last summer one of the guys has moved and the other is working out of town most weekends. And as I sit here listening to a distant mower on this lovely spring day I find myself in a bit of a pickle: to buy or not to buy a mower?

Couldn't I just pay the young lad who knocks on my door? It's really not a big yard after all.

But the green blades are already creeping past my ankle.

Quiet

A dear friend of mine recently wrote this song. It's call Quiet. After my Speechless post, I thought it would be fitting to share this. She is immensely talented, with a precious, precious heart.

Speechless

I haven't had much to say lately. I think it's because I'm sick of myself. If I could, I would unzip my skin and just walk right out. So instead of fluffy verbiage, I give you something strikingly beautiful to take in. All props to Chris.

Stinky Pee

This is a little off color, but I found out an interesting tid-bit on Sunday. Apparently, after you eat asparagus your pee smells funky. I thought that sort of strange, but decided to pay close attention after eating asparagus on Sunday and again last night. It's true friends. Try it for yourself.

I was also told that this doesn't happen for some people, so don't think I'm nuts if it doesn't happen to you. Something about body chemicals and the enzymes in the asparagus.

Comments are always open for the results of your aspagarus testing.

Falling Flat

I've sat down to write several times since my last post, but nothing comes. The phrase that repeats like a mantra in my mind is "falling flat". I think it's because I've been feeling like a deflated balloon or a squashed pancake lately.

I've now written three different paragraphs that would go right here, and then deleted each one.
All done.


After thought: a co-worker of mine often answers her work telephone like this, "psychic hotline!" [insert a tone of voice so sweet that it would instantly give you a cavity ].

First of all, this is so intolerably annoying to me that I literally grit my teeth when it occurs, and have even made faces at the shared wall between our two cubes. Secondly, so what if we have caller ID, how does one justify doing this in a professional corporate environment? Ok, perhaps it erks me more than it should. I'll think about that.

Conversation with a Six Year-Old

It was bedtime one night last week and I was prodding my little "I" to brush his teeth. This is a challenge most nights. He broke the frustration with this:

I - Mom, I want braces.

Me - Why do you want braces, bud?

I - If I had red hair and glasses, then I'd want braces.


Kids are just hysterical. I don't think we got his teeth brushed that night.