“It’s Left For Me to Find FRIDAY!”

This photo is an inspirational one that I found along my new walking route to the office this morning.

It reminds me that just like our Dad showed us by his example – it is possible, when planted in the worst of conditions, to survive, thrive and bloom into a beauty....

Not much more I need to say.

except thank you bruce barr may

Not feeling very "flowery" today....

so I am going to ignore that mood by posting some beautiful flowers that I see on walks in this fabulous city of mine....




its gonna be just fine

DING!

Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap...

DING!

Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap...

DING! DING!

Except for a couple softly conversing in the back of the train car this morning, it was unusually quiet.

No loud cell phone talking.

No annoying music bleeding thru someone's earphones.

Quietness.

Until "Mister-Doesn't-Care-If-He-Is-Bothering-Others" got out his iPhone or whatever the device was and started sending emails with the sound ON!


Why-Oh-Why do some people GET IT and other's never will?

wanted to kill

F.E.W.T.Y.P.

At the gathering that I wrote about yesterday, David was there. I hadn't not seen him in over 30 years, but I had never forgotten him.

David teased me unmercifully for many years of my childhood.

He called me one specific name and when he said "it" I knew what the rest of the saying was that he had concocted in his filthy little boy mind.

While commuting into work this morning I was sans both a newspaper (cut out by my newly revised budget) and any member of my posse, so it gave me time to reflect on ol’ David and why back-in-the-day his name calling did not upset me as much as it possibly could have.

Now don’t get me wrong it certainly did not make me feel all warm and fuzzy when he would echo “it” in the hallways at school.

During my morning contemplation I realized that while growing up in a house with 7 siblings, three of whom were sisters and two of those sisters were within a 3 1/2 year spread of me – we were very competitive and often incredibly mean to each other.

We would, at times, physically fight, but the real cruelty came by way of words.

No swears, just dumb, hurtful names.

And if we couldn’t think of a “common” mean name we would make one up.

“You’re a Pig-A-Jew!”

What?

We weren’t being racist, we had no clue what a Jew was or if they were bad or good - it was just a word we had heard, quite possibly while watching The Magic Door Sunday morning television show – which we didn't realize was all about Judaism....we just liked the show.

Sisters can be brutal and we three were no exceptions.

So that could be why when David decided he liked me and wanted to express it by calling me THAT name...I was already hardened by the years of fending off names of all varieties.

For the record – the acronym that is the title to this post - F.E.W.T.Y.P.

Stands for a name that my sisters gave me while I was going through puberty...

Fried Eggs With The Yolks Popped

It just doesn’t get any meaner than that.

i was flat flat flat

Yesterday there was a gathering.....

of childhood friends, some of whom I had not seen in 30+ years.

Several months ago, Kay, Mary and I, all friends since grade school, met over dinner and started discussing the coordination of a neighborhood picnic.

We picked the date, the location and got the invite out via Facebook and word of mouth – show up with your families, or by yourself – bring what you want to eat, drink and a dish to pass and spend some time reminiscing about the “good ol’ days” and what we might each be up to now.

At 3 p.m. people started trickling into the Adler’s yard in the neighborhood we all grew up in, with coolers, chairs and families in tow...each with a big smile on their face.

I got to reconnect with the likes of Tommy, Julie, Cindy, Gary, Thomas, Emil, David, Lisa, Mrs. Adler....and the list goes on and on!

We talked about stupid things we did as kids; teachers we loved and teachers we hated; how life was much simpler and safer when we were growing up; our favorite hang out spots (i.e. - back by the tracks; and the “big ditch”); what happened to “so and so” and there were plenty of “Can you believe its?” – discussed with a ton of laughter and an occasional tear.

But all-in-all it was a smash hit!

I am already looking forward to the next picnic, where, hopefully, even more of the old crew will be able to attend.

I would like to give a special shout out to the Adler’s for allowing us access to their homes and providing the grills, paper goods, etc. – THANK YOU very much!

now everyone keep in touch

How to make an Awesome Bloody Mary from Scratch

How to make an Awesome Bloody Mary from Scratch

Shared via AddThis

“Well did you think it was going to go on forever?”

a friend asked upon hearing that I am no longer receiving child support payments from the ex.

“It is complicated, but the bottom line is I didn’t have a clue when it would end.” I responded.

And it is complicated.

And it really doesn't matter - it is what it is.

“Phillip, you need to get a job and start contributing BIG TIME around here if we are going to stay in this house!” I immediately told my son after hanging up with his father.

At 21 years old and still wanting to pursue his passion of photography, but not doing too much about it, he finally has a job interview today.

Prayers being welcomed for that, please.

So now I am finally in the spot I have thought about often over these 10 years of being a single parent - completely, totally on my own - financially.

Again.

“Well this is why you save for a rainy day.” another friend said upon hearing of my plight.

“Thanks....since I have been living so LARGE all these years!” I mumbled to myself.

Will it all work out?

Sure, it always does - one way or another.

But in the meantime...while all that “working out” stuff is going on....I think I just might have me a nice little breakdown.

treading on new financial ground

Back to work today....

after having two bowls of my Momma, Myra Lee's, homemade with love, beans and ham soup yesterday.

Ironic?

Nope, I just finally got what I needed...a little hair of the "dog" that bit me.

now swine flu free

"I am bringing Phillip into your....

examining room because you both have tested positive for influenza and the doctor might as well see you at the same time." the nurse said as she led Phillip into my room last Friday.

Dr. Kruse came in and informed us "You both have the H1N1 virus - swine flu."

Fever;

Headache;

Sore Throat;

Cough; and

An overall feeling of having been hit by a truck.

Yup, those are all of our symptoms.

Somewhere along our path of flying to Arizona, being in Arizona or flying back home to Chicago we became infected with the virus.

And it hasn't been fun.

Although it has given some loving, caring, creative friends and family the opportunity to compassionately inundate us with pig jokes, phone calls involving oinking noises and emailed remedies of rolling around in cool mud to lower our temps!

in cheering us up attempts

Unfortunately....

it appears that Phillip and I brought something home with us from Scottsdale and it isn't a welcome visitor!

Since Tuesday night we have been fevering, coughing and having sore throats. He has it much worse than me, so tomorrow, health insurance or not (not), he will be going to the doc.

I, hopefully, will be back to work tomorrow.

scottsdale virus sorrow

“I like your sssparkly toes!”

The young blonde girl said as she zoomed past me at the conference.

“Thank you!” I yelled to the back of her as she continued on.

Later I had a chance to meet and bond with Olivia, who told me that she is 9 years old, stutters and was there with her dad.

“Do you stutter?” she asked.

“No, my son does.” I replied.

“How old is he?” Olivia continued.

“21.” I said.

Twenty-one and this was Phillip's first conference, unlike Olivia, who at 9 has attended for several years, which left me wishing that I knew such an organization existed when he was younger.


Being introduced to the National Stuttering Association at an early age, will hopefully buffer Olivia from the devastating anxiety, shame, fear, solitude and depression that so many stutterers have within them.

Did you know that there are over 2 million adult stutterers in the U.S. alone?

I sure didn’t.

So with only 600 people, encompassing the stutterers and their families/support people, attending this year’s conference...that says that we MUST get the “word out”.

lets shout

“Are you retarded?”

“Nnnnnooo, I sssstttutter!” Landon said to the ignorant bar patron seated next to him.

“I thought they cured that in the 1930’s?” was the guy's reply.

To which Landon graciously responded.....

“I ddddon’t have PPPPPolio, you FFFFF*#KHEAD!”

enough said

PJ and I sat in the lobby of the The Westin Kierland Resort in Scottsdale, Arizona yesterday, saying our goodbyes to all the wonderful people we met at the National Stuttering Association’s (NSA) Conference, one of those we said goodbye to was Landon.


A Louisiana boy thru and thru, he is filled with stuttering life experiences and had no problem sharing them with us. He and his girlfriend, Lizzy appeared in our lives on the first day of the conference and we are now forever bonded.

Landon stutters...openly and often.

Oh, and he swears...a lot.

So, Landon, Lizzy, Janice, from upstate New York and her daughter, Joanna, along with a lenghty list of others, helped shape Phillip’s and my first NSA conference into the life changing experience that it was.

Neither of us will ever be the same.

So emotionally draining for me, that by the time it ended and those goodbye's were being said....I mostly just wept and everyone involved knew why I was crying and that is all that mattered.

back home informed changed and emotionally tattered

“In a fight who do you think would win….

Chips Ahoy or Oreo’s?” he asked me last night as I was walking back from the bathroom to my table at Paulie’s Pub & Grille.

I was there with two of my comrade-in-arms' girlfriends, a middle of the week dinner, a gathering, to catch up, to discuss our lives as divorcees, our kids, our careers, etc.

As you can imagine, the conversation was non-stop, so I was unaware of any other customers in the place (although I will admit the two business guys that got out of the Maserati in the parking lot, might of caught my eye, but that had more to do with the car than them.)

“Oreo’s.” I replied.

“Double-stuff or regular?” he furthered with.

I said “Double-stuff. Why do you want to know?”

"You are wearing a Cookie Monster shirt.” he said while pointing at my chest.

Younger than Keith and obviously not very savvy with his pick up lines, I told him to take care and I walked back to my table....chuckling as I thought "I was watching Sesame Street years before you were even born!"

next time I go cookie monster unadorn

In the midst of a creative dry spell.....

I give you this......


a poppy from my Momma's backyard in all of it's fiery orange and pinky-red glory.

sometime soon maybe a real story