Thursday, December 30, 2010

A Promise To 2010

Dear 2010,

Just so you know, I have a sock full of quarters with your name on it.

Certainly, you spoke with 2009 before you assumed your position, so you knew about my raggedy uterus, dust-covered ovaries, and severe depression due to the corresponding infertility. Yet, you decided to jack around with me anyway.

Really? Was it really necessary for you to send so much major suckage my way?

You screwed with me the whole first quarter of the year but, seriously, what was the deal with March? In case you're not familiar with the old adage, March is supposed to go out like a lamb. I certainly don't remember any lambs in my March, do you? Yeah, that's what I thought.

And the first half of August? You went well above and beyond the call of duty there. As long as I live, 2010, I'll never forgive you for the first half of August. Did you think all that drama was funny, you whackjob?

Then there's December. You couldn't just let it go, could you? You had to squeeze in that little divorce of mine before you and I parted ways. Very nice. Very, very nice.

I don't know what your problem is. I don't know if you just have a sick sense or humor or if you're a sadist. For all I know, you might be a straight up sociopath.

But I do know one thing, 2010: You better run your psychotic butt off if you ever see me in a dark alley.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

May I Be Serious for Just One Post, Please?

A few posts ago, I wrote about my husband's affair. (Okay, I tried to do a link, but it didn't work out so well, so you can read it under the title, "It's Grim, And It's a Fairy Tale".)

I am aware that some people feel that something so personal should not be on a blog. I do understand that reasoning, but I wrote about the affair for a couple of reasons: 1) very few things are private in my life and I tend to share everything; and, 2) writing is my therapy.

I wrote for two very selfish reasons, but something unexpected happened: My inbox was flooded with women commenting on my post. Most said that it had happened to them. Some said that they were too embarrassed to talk about it, and some said that they wished more people talked about it, especially with a humorous touch. All (with one exception) thanked me for writing about the affair.

So, I intend to continue writing about the affair. If it offends you, please don't read that post. (But please come back for others not related to the affair!)

I promise this blog won't turn into a soap opera, but some parts of it will be soap opera-ish, not only because of how it helps me, but also because of how it seems to help others.

Now, onto another topic...if someone could tell me how to make a link in HTML, I would be most appreciative. I know how to copy and past, but I'm talking about a link where you write something like, "You can read about it here," and then you click on the word "here" and there's what you want them to read! I know I used to do it, but taking a year off from writing makes the mind feeble!

You can read my post about the affair here.

Post Edit: Suburban Correspondent taught me to make a link, so now I'm going to get fancy and link to her blog here.

Can I Get a Drum Roll, Please....

Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to tell the world about their precious siblings. I also thank everyone, like Joanna and Andrea, who added humor (because you know I love humor) to the contest.

I loved all the posts. Some made me smile and some made me teary-eyed (and Joanna's made me spew Diet Pepsi out of my nose). But there was one post that really touched me and a lot of other people, apparently, because I actually got phone calls and emails about it. So without further ado, the winner of the $50 gift card to Target is...

Bert J.!

Congratulations, Bert J.! Please send me your address via email at and your gift card will be on its way. Happy Targeting!

You can read Bert J.'s touching story about her brother, Vince, below.

About My Brother

I have two sisters that I love with all my heart, who are both very special to me. However, it is my brother, Vince, that I would like to comment about. He has been my brother, my father, and my best friend for my entire life. Because my father was a deadbeat who didn't pay child support, Vince became my father, showing guidance, direction, support, and love.
As a kid, Vince pitched pennies on the sidewalks of Chicago just to have money to buy us french fries at 15 cents a bag. He shined shoes to make sure he could help my mother buy us shoes to wear. Vince quit high school to get a job to pay for my tuition for Catholic high school.
When my home caught fire in 1997, Vince, who lives nearly an hour and a half away, showed up to comfort and offer me support, arriving just as the home was really up in flames. He made sure I got another home, while never expecting anything from me in return.
My brother has given me love and support beyond any expectations.
Our mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer just two years ago. Mother has since then gone to be with the Lord, but while she was still with us, Vince helped me to take care of all of our mother's personal needs, including her personal hygiene. I watched him in amazement
Most recently I died as a result of a spleenic rupture. As I laid in the Critical Care Unit, unable to talk or move, I could feel the hands of the only father I ever knew rubbing my hand saying 'I love you. You're my best friend. You can't leave me now.' I could hear the quivering in his voice as he sobbed at my bedside.
I know that my will to live came from God, but my brother's pain had to be releived. I thank God and my brother that I was able to pull through for them both.
My brother, father, and friend never allowed me to want for anything. He is my God-sent angel, and I love him more than life itself.
Vince's love for me has no beginning and no end. He is just all love, in the truest sense of the word.
Mr. V., you are my hero!

Bert J.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Alzheimer's is Fun, Volume 3

Back-scratching is a talent. Some people just know how to do it and some people don't. I am a firm believer that back-scratching should be a licensed career, like massotherapy. I think there should be places that you can go, pay $40 an hour and get your back scratched. But it has to be legitimate; no Suzi Kim's. Ewwwwwwwwww.

Fortunately, I could keep my 40 bucks because my mother is the best back-scratcher in the entire world. She doesn't know where she is half the time, but she could have any back-scratching license. Her nails are perfect. They're not so thick that you can't feel any "zing" when she scratches, and they're not so thin that they feel like razor blades. Plus her technique is great. She applies the perfect amount of pressure and she gets all the corners. Ya know what I mean?

She has always made me feel better by scratching my back, and it was always our bonding time.

So, yesterday I had a bit of a cold and was lying on my bed. She came to my room and when I told her I wasn't feeling well, she began scratching my back. She was getting all the corners, and it was perfect. We were talking about life, both hers in Alzheimer's dementia, and mine, in a different kind of dementia yet to be determined.

"You have the best skin," she said to me. I got a big smile on my face.

She told me that I was beautiful and that "every single feature" of mine is perfect.

We were bonding again. I was feeling pretty good about myself and, I swear to you, my cold went away. It was so nice and I felt so close to her.

Yeah. That didn't last very long.

The very next words out of her mouth were, "Now, how do I know you?"

And I had the audacity to feel special!


Don't forget to share about your sister or brother in the comments section of the post below to win a $50 gift card to Target!!!

Saturday, December 18, 2010

On Sisters

The day I was born, I already had one of the greatest blessings I would ever have: my sister, Debbie.

Debbie is 15 years older than I and was entering her sophomore year of high school when I came into the world. She said she was so embarrassed when I was born because everyone at school would know Mom had sex.

Debbie is feisty and will complain over everything (although she says she's the only one in our family without an attitude), but she doesn't mean a thing by it. She will give you the shirt off her back and her last dime if you need it. Heck, you don't even have to need it; if you just want her shirt and her dime, they're yours.

I hated Debbie. I was jealous of her because I was never "a child" and she was the adult I wanted to be. She claims that when she went to the hospital to see me after I was born, I looked up at her and said, "I hate you." (I find that story a little suspicious.)

But Debbie loved me. She bathed me (and told me I was going down the drain with the water), fed me, and even took me on her dates with her. I developed my love for astronomy because Debbie taught me all about the planets and the solar system when I was three years old.

I literally could not get through my life right now without Debbie. She babysits for me every Thursday and any other time I need her. She helps me with my mother and deals with all of her Alzheimer's-induced antics way better than I do.

I love Debbie.

When I was 12 months and 2 weeks old, I got another one of the greatest blessings I would ever have when my sister, Amie, came into the world. (Debbie nearly died when Amie was born because then everyone would know Mom had sex TWICE!!!!)

Amie is hysterically funny and is also feisty. She will not hesitate for one second to tell you what's on her mind, regardless of whether or not you want to hear it. Amie has told me numerous times, "Okay, I have something to tell you about your face." She will then proceed to let me know where I need Juvederm or Botox. Amie believes that as long as she says, "I'm just saying," at the end of a statement, it is not offensive.

Amie also believes she is the only one of us without an attitude, but lately she has begun to admit that she can get "a little ghetto."

With one exception, the only physical fights I've ever had in my life were with Amie. She still carries a scar under her eye from when I was two years old and ripped the lid off the potty seat and hit her with it. A few years later, she threw me over her shoulder and caused my grandmother to shriek in horror, "Now look what you've done! You've killed her!"

More recently, I may or may not have beaten Amie with a curling iron, and she may or may not have knocked me over two chairs at a funeral home.

Amie and I have our spats, but they don't last. We are always there for each other. We could not have survived our insane childhood without each other, and we credit the other for the fact that we are each reasonably sane today. "Wonder Twin powers: Activate!"

I love Amie.

I don't know how I would live without either one of my precious sisters. They both are integral parts of my soul.

(And sisters, before you count, allow me to assure you that I have devoted an equal number of paragraphs to each of you.)

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

It's Grim, and It's a Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who had too many deep-rooted self-esteem issues (which she blamed on her mother) to know that she was beautiful.

But I digress, already.

Anyway, the beautiful princess met a handsome prince and they immediately fell in love. In a breach of fairy tale protocol, the beautiful princess soon became pregnant and gave birth to the loveliest baby in all the land. After a year of arguing over their marital status, the beautiful princess and the handsome prince were married in a moderately beautiful ceremony due to the fact that the handsome prince ruined the beautiful princess' wedding; nonetheless, the nuptials were legally binding. After a brief honeymoon, the couple got into their 2004 Oldsmobile Alero and drove off into the suburban sunset.

They lived in their castle-esque brick cape cod for five years. During those years, the beautiful princess remained true to her marriage vows and tried to be a good wife, despite the opposition she routinely received from the handsome prince.

Then, one day, in another breach of fairy tale protocol, the handsome prince confessed to the beautiful princess that he had been having a 10-month affair. However, the handsome prince "chose" the beautiful princess over the commoner with tattoos and a nose piercing.

Somehow, the handsome prince no longer seemed so handsome.

After much thought, debate, and language inappropriate for a fairy tale, the beautiful princess filed for divorce from the no-longer-so-handsome prince.

The beautiful princess retained her dignity. She also got a great divorce settlement.

And the beautiful princess lived happily ever after.

Post Edit: You have to read the second comment below. It's hilarious, and the class is astounding!