Monthly Archives: June 2009

It’s Monday, from Hoops & YoYo

This summons up a lot of Mondays for me!  I once sent this e-card to a few friends; Claudia wrote back, “I worry about you.”

Rough day? Time to look at photos!

A friend got me a digital photo frame for my birthday.   I really enjoy seeing the different photos go by, especially as it’s made me go through the last few years and pick out some.  I haven’t looked at some of these in a long time.

Like this great one of my friend Kim D from our Girls Gone Wild weekend at WDW in August, 2003.  (Kim can you believe this was six years ago?!!)

Kim at Orlando airport

Kim at Orlando airport

That’s such a great picture of her!  We had just landed in Orlando after a very long delay and we were so psyched to finally arrive and tackle our whirlwind weekend.  I wish I had the pictures of us with the alligator/dragon statues outside Keystone Clothier where we laid like victims inside their mouths.  What I really wish I had was the guy’s face as he came out of the store and saw us sprawled in their jaws!

I do have this one of me playing Rebel victim of the AT-AT walker:

Oh no!!

Help me, ObiWan! You are my only hope of not getting squished!!

I have lots of John, of course.  Great ones of him being on vacation or just on a day trip, laughing and smiling.  Here’s one at Smithville, NJ with someone playing that very popular game show: What kind of dog is that? (About Morgan)

It's not nice to point, sir.

It's not nice to point, sir.

And this one of John being contemplative:

The Thinker

The Thinker

Probably thinking about how he can get the camera away from me.

I have action shots, like this one of me kicking butt with Kim Possible:

Booyah!

Booyah!

THIS one was an absolutely must-have!

Greetings from our house to yours!

Greetings from our house to yours!

Lots of both families — holidays, Ann’s wedding, trips, and just getting together:

Yo, dawg!

Yo, dawg!

Pictures of Sophia, from theater, and more of our friends, including friends we made online and finally got to see face to face:

John, Deb, and I: July 19, 2007

John, Deb, and I: July 19, 2007

I think I’ll go through the photo CDs, see what else I can find, and maybe scan a few of from the albums.  But I’ll leave you with this image:

Dont you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

Men’s brains and Women’s brains: totally different critters

It’s not gender bashing in either direction.  It’s just the truth, whether it’s because women get 2 xx’s while a guy mixes it up with an xy combo when it all begins, or whether it’s societies roles teaching us before we decide for ourselves how to think and feel…. I dunno.  I just know there’s a difference.

And it can be VERY funny!  As this guy shows us.  I never heard of Mark Gungor before, but I wish I had!  In fact, while some people may be turned off by the commercial for the DVD on this clip, I ran to check it out because it made me want to see more.  Unfortunately, it timed out.  Maybe this clip is circulating quite a bit (I originally got it in email) and is taxing the servers.  I just hope the site becomes available again because I want more!

I nodded in agreement as much as I laughed!  I can’t tell you how many times John and I have had these discussions:

  1. If I bring up something from before: “How can you remember that, Erin?! It was 10 years ago!”
  2. If I discuss something that I think is related to the subject:  “We’re not talking about that, Erin.  We’re talking about this.  They’re not connected!” at which point I point out how they are.
  3. And when I ask John what he’s thinking about and he answers, “Nothing.”, I think that’s my “Nothing”, meaning, “Please ask me to tell you what I’m thinking.  I need the nudging.”  But he just says more emphatically, “I said nothing.”  To which I reply, “How can you think about NOTHING?” Now I know.

Really funny.  And you got to love that he crosses himself before discussing women’s minds. 

New York City survived my family!

It even survived me singing You say it’s your birthday by the Beatles’ on the steps of the Lincoln Center.

My aunt and I at the Lincoln Center

My aunt and I at the Lincoln Center

We took the train into the city, each of us coming in at different stations, and finding the others.  Cathi, as a joke, said we would wear a single red rose so they’d recognize us.  She gave me one and everybody cracked up that we actually did it.  All of my sisters came on this trip except for Mary.

We met this great group of women who got on when we did; they were going shopping for the day in NYC.  We even ran into them on the train going home.

My friend Laura sent me a treasure chest of Disneyland goodies, including a pin that said it was my birthday.  I wore it on Saturday, and not only did people wish me happy birthday (I forgot I had the pin on and would be so surprised when people knew until I remembered the button), but a waiter, obviously trying to get into opera, sang in Italian to me at dinner with everyone stopping to listen.  AND!  When I saw a pewter figurine from Wicked for sale, the artist knocked money off the price for my birthday. (Terry, Cathi, and Gerry bought it for me.)

My niece, Jennifer, was supposed to go but couldn’t get off from her second job.  My aunt decided she’d rather give the ticket away for free rather than it go unused.  We announced to the cafe where we had lunch that we were giving it away, and met this wonderful woman Sandra.  She couldn’t believe her good luck, but I assured her we were telling the truth and just made her day.

DeeDee (our nickname for our aunt) picked South Pacific because she saw it when it first ever opened and starred Mary Martin.  She heard good things about this revival, and I have to agree: this isn’t a favorite of mine but I really enjoyed what they did with the production, modernizing it while keeping the themes alive.  I could still do without singing about are we in love, yes we are, no we’re not every minute.  I preferred the other numbers.

The musical is based on James Michener’s book, Tales from the South Pacific, from his service there in WWII.  This revival started with a scrim that filled the entire stage and looked like a page of the book with the first 5 paragraphs.  The end of the show had the last page.  Since my family are also Micheners, and my grandmother (Marion Michener) was good friends with Jim Michener, we were especially glad to see they did this.

I forgot how it dealt with race relations, with how Americans or other whites were pushed out of our society if they married the non-white Polynesians.  It struck a real chord with me since James Michener himself went through this prejudice with his Asian wife, and I’ve met Chinese and other Asians who have to go through this too.

The book was on sale around the theater; I wanted a family picture with it, but we lost Terry in the crowd, so I got a quick photo with it and then we did the group outside with our Playbills.

From left to right: Terry, Cheryl, me, Gerry, DeeDee, and Cathi

From left to right: Terry, Cheryl, me, Gerry, DeeDee, and Cathi

We had dinner at Cafe Fiorello’s across from the theater.  Very nice place and that’s where the waiter sang to me.

Of course, you can see, Cathi doesn’t have the date set right on her camera!

So nice day!  Our aunt was so extraordinarily generous to do this for us.

I’m headed for New York today.

My aunt wanted to thank me, Terry, and Cathi for everything we did for her when she had heart surgery last year.  So she’s treating us to a show in NY.  By coincidence, the first tickets she could get was for today.  So it’s a nice distraction. I’ve been more focused that today is the trip, not my birthday. Even though, originally, this trip was supposed to be with my mom too, something DeeDee wanted to do last year in October, but lots of things interfered.

Still, put a few members of my family together, especially louder ones…. actually, I don’t think we have any quiet ones… and we’ll be a great distraction!

And people have been so nice about my Mom and also about my birthday that I’ve been feeling better about today.

So brace yourself, New York!  Here we come!

A whole new direction for Precious Moments

A whole new BAD direction!

For the guy making his bones in your life

For the guy making his bones in your life

Reading Playboy to Pooh

Reading Playboy to Pooh

Sad to say, it took me a little bit to realize what he’s reading.  I kept looking at Pooh and Piglet and thinking, I don’t see anything wrong…

Foreclosure

Foreclosure

Of course, if you had a foreclosure, could you afford the figurine?

I know people who could have this one

I know people who could have this one

This needs a companion piece: the friends ragging him about it!

This needs a companion piece: the friends ragging him about it!

Despite rumors, this is NOT how I worked my way through college

Despite rumors, this is NOT how I worked my way through college

If I did work like that, I’d probably have more money now.  Where was that booth on Career Day?

My birthday was my mom’s last day

My mom was out celebrating my birthday on the day that ended up being her last.

My birthday is this Saturday.  The anniversary of us losing her is 9 days after that.  I can’t believe it’ll be a year.  It doesn’t feel like a year.  At most, it feels like a couple months ago, that’s all.  I don’t even like telling people how long it’s been because, unless they went through it themselves, they don’t understand how much you still hurt. But you do.

Now my birthday is about me messing up my life — and her being gone because of that day.   There’s nothing to celebrate.  I don’t need the cliches: “It’s better than the alternative.”  Not being in a coffin is not a celebration, it’s survival.  It’s not like I survived Katrina or one of the wars; it’s just the best thing anyone can come up with.

I would give so much to be able to talk to Mom again.

Dear Mom,

I’m lousy about my birthdays — about getting older, you know that.  So were you.  Probably for the same reasons as me: I hate how I’ve screwed up my life, and I hate that with each year, I’m running out of time.  I hate the look of people of “You’re HOW old?” and cracks about age and all of it.  I’ve messed up so much….

And now, you were out that day because of me.  Even the doctors in the ER said you had the attack because you were out in the heat that day, instead of home, relaxing in the air conditioning.

You would say, “Don’t feel that way.”  But if our positions were switched, you’d never forgive yourself that you had ME out.  People tell me I might have regretted not being with you or you might have had a terrible last day instead… but that’s what ifs.  It doesn’t change the facts.  The facts are, you were out for my birthday, that was your last day.  And everyone would feel like garbage if it was them.  I don’t know that I blame myself, so much as the one thing is now tied forever to the other, and so it’s always a reminder.

It makes a lot of things come back: that whole horrible night, you being gone… I still can’t say “My mom di–“, I say, “I lost my mom”.  I still can’t       any home movies that you’re in.  Pictures are bad enough.

And that’s not all.  I should have been a better daughter.  Look at my birthday last year: I got caught up in what I was doing, and forgot you were having cataract surgery.  You had to call me the next day to tell me how it went instead of me calling right away to see if you were okay.  Even then, my mind wondered as you talked about it, too busy thinking of things I had to do.

I did that too much.

It’s why we will never have that trip to your hometown that I asked you and DeeDee to do, because I got caught up in my things and forgot the date we had set.  Then I moved it to September…. you didn’t have a September.

It’s why we will never do the scrapbook of Daddy’s war years; we planned it for years, but I never sat down and did it with you.  I made a joke about it…. now all the things you bought me to put in the book sit in a bag that I can’t bear to look at.

I was selfish to the end.  Sitting in the backseat of Cathi’s car that day,  you guys dropping me off at my car, people waiting for my parking spot and for us to move, so when the bags were in the way and I couldn’t kiss you goodbye, I just called it instead and took off.  You called my name…. wanting me to call back, but I jumped in my car.

I hear you calling me in that moment in my head, and it hurts.

So damned selfish; why couldn’t I stop for one minute, just one?  Why couldn’t I think of you and not me?

I’m sorry…. really sorry….

But that doesn’t change any of it.