Epiphanie Bags…yum!

I’m in the market for a new camera bag.  I want something sassy and colorful for Spring, but I also want it to protect my camera and lenses.  Not an easy bag to find.  Until I stumbled upon Epiphanie Bags.  They are an answer to a Mom with a Camera’s dream!

And, they are giving away a free camera!!!

I’m off to browse and dream about my new camera bag!
I’m thinking the Lola, but leaning towards the Ginger.

Gorgeous bags!  GO check them out!
ephiphaniebags.com

It’s Beginning to Feel a lot like Christmas….

The snow.  The snow, snow, snow, snow….It won’t stop falling.  It started about 10 hours ago and we’ve got about 8 inches or more.

It’s 18 degrees.  Flippin’ cold!  I’m COLD!

We drove down to Carson City to get some shopping done.  We hit Borders for some books, Michaels for some crafty stuff and then we went to Trader Joes to stock up on food, glorious FOOD!

As we headed back up the hill to get back to the lake, I got scared.  It was blizzard like, as Karl informed me.  It was freezing cold and the windshield was freezing up, so the windshield wipers were bending like they would break.  Other cars were climbing up the hill, as well.  We all went along at an ant’s pace.

It wasn’t so scary making the climb from Carson up to Spooner Summit. Granted, we could not see anything but snow, and white, but at least we weren’t sliding.  As we started the descent down to the lake, we started sliding, just a little.  The snow got heavier.  The brake lights got closer.  I think it’s fair to say that that sort of situation does not sit well with someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks.  I felt such fear.  I envisioned us sliding off the road, down the hill or into the lake.  I did a quick mental inventory of what we had to keep warm with, and what we had to eat.  Bottled water?  Check.  Lots of snacks?  Check, (we’d just been to TJ’s, remember?).  Blankets and extra coats?  Check.  We even had a full tank of gas.  The mental inventory did calm me a little bit, but it was one of the worst rides of my life.

When we got home, Gracie stated, very matter of factly, “that was not fun”.

Amen sister.  Amen.

I kind of felt like those people who get bad airplane rides.  The ones who get off and kiss the ground.

I wanted to get out and kiss the ground when we got home.  Alas, it was under about 8 inches of snow.

I settled for lots of kisses and hugs for my sweet, calm husband and my gorgeous girlie!

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow….

Widow…

This is the beginning to a story that I am writing.  I have an idea where I am going with it, and am excited to get it down on paper.  I hope it all spills out as quickly as the beginning did!  I love some parts of it, some parts need to be re-worked and I need to do some punctuation/grammar corrections, I am sure!

I am a Widow.

I have been a Widow for 8 years, 7 months, 11 days, 19 hours and 18 seconds.

I know this because my husband’s life was one of the many innocent  lives taken

on Sept. 11, 2001.  It’s all very well documented.  I couldn’t forget the time, the

date and all that, even if I tried.

It started out as a normal day.  We woke up and had a  wonderful

morning “love fest” (aka a quickie).  He showered while I tippie -toed downstairs to

make him a quick cuppa and a bagel for him to enjoy on the train.

He came downstairs dressed, oh so handsomely, ready to run out the door to

catch the train into the city.

I handed him his bagel and coffee.  He placed them on the counter

and pushed me, gently, against the kitchen island.  He kissed me.

Hard.  Tenderly.  He kissed me again.

I pushed him away and told him to hit the the road.

“Baby needs a new pair of shoes, Out” and I pointed

at the door.  He sauntered out the back door.  I opened the

door and stage whispered, “don’t go!”  He raced back in,

grabbed me and proceeded to kiss me, deeply, again.

He growled into my neck that he would “bring home the

bacon, so I could fry it up in a pan”.  I laughed and felt

the love rise and fall, as my heart beat just for him, at that moment.

Two dorks in love.  Nothing better.

We were so silly and so in love.  I handed him his forgotten coffee

and bagel and walked him to the front door.  I pushed him against

it and kissed him.  Hard.  I begged him to call in sick for the day and to

climb back in bed with me.  He started to walk back up the stairs.

I slowly took his hand, opened the front door and pushed him out it.  We laughed.

He winked at me and said, “I love you.” I told him that I loved him, too.

He ran down the front path, turned and shouted, ” I LOVE YOU MORE!”

That was the last time I saw him.  An little over an hour later, a plane crashed into

his building and he was killed.  Yep, I’m one of those widows.

I do wonder, sometimes, what if I had taken his hand? What

if we had walked back up the stairs and climbed into bed and gotten lost

in each other. Could I have saved him? Could I have saved us? I can’t let my mind

go there too often, as I know the answer to the questions.

Did I mention that we were high school sweethearts?  That we met when I

was 14 yrs old and he was 16?  I thought he was an ass.  He thought I was

his future wife.  We fell in love.  Weird, real, high school love, without all the

drama.  He was a safe, warm place.  He was my anchor in a stormy sea.

My family was far from typical and I never felt safe or stable at home.  The only time

I felt calm was with Andrew.  I felt like I could do anything with him by my side.

That might sound cliched, but it’s the God’s honest truth.

Just so you know,  it was a bit embarrassingin high school.

All the drama and teen angst that my friends were “suffering” through,

and I just floated around with this satiated smile.  At 14.  Can you imagine.  How irritating.

When Andrew went away to college, and I still had two years of high school left, I

felt like I would die.  Then I realized that if I died, I would be without Andrew.  No dying allowed.

I made those two years fly by.  I joined every committee that there was.  I

attended every high school event.  I volunteered.  I lived for the times that Andrew had breaks

from school.  I stayed as far away from my home

as possible, and I made it.  I did it.  I survived my crazy family, the teen years and

high school, all with Andrew’s love and support.  I loved him even more….

I applied to the college that Andrew went to and we did a little dance when we found out that I was accepted!  We were together once again.

We got married when Andrew graduated, and I finished my last two years of college as an old married lady.  We were in love, living in a little

studio apartment and we might have appeared to be poor, but we were richer than anyone we knew.  We had each other and let me tell you,

that was no little thing.  It was HUGE!

We decided to put off taking a honeymoon until I graduated college.  Andrew worked and we scrimped and saved.  He didn’t

have a big salary.  He was training to be a stockbroker, and came home every day thrilled to have learned something new.  He

loved numbers and money and learning.  Me?  I was just counting down the days until I could stop studying and we could fly!

We weren’t just taking a “honeymoon”.  We were taking six months to travel around Italy, Ireland, Spain, Greece and France.

We thought we could throw in a few other places, like Germany, Switzerland and maybe even, Egypt.  We had a very loose itinerary,

as we wanted to go with the flow…hang loose, you know.

We so enjoyed our six months of travel, that we did it for the next ten years.  We would work for six months and then,

take six months off to travel.  We traveled all over the world.  We went to many exotic places, like Thailand,

the Maldives, Belarus and yes, finally, even Egypt.

As a matter of fact, it was my 30th birthday and we were in a lovely

little hostel in XXX.  We had been touring the pyramids for the past 3 days, when I started feeling

nauseated.  We decided to stay close to our room for the next few days to make sure that I wasn’t coming

down with something.  Three days in a row, I woke up and immediately vomited.  On the fourth day, I woke up

to Andrew sitting on the bed next to me, holding a pregnancy test.

We had never used birth control

and had figured that I just wasn’t able to get pregnant.  We were going to start getting serious about it when I hit

30.  We decided that when I turned 30, it was time for Andrew to start working full time on his career, and I would

work on making a family.  How ironic that our fate was decided for us.  I took the test from him, and he trailed me

to the communal bathroom, down the hall.  I did make him wait outside while I peed on the stick, but we held

hands and spooned on the bed while we waited the obligatory three minutes, (that felt like ten), to see if our lives

were soon going to change.  They were!  Andrew had gone and knocked me up!

We left Egypt with smiles on our faces, for many different reasons.  We knew that while

our lives had been wonderful for the past 16 years, our real life was finally starting.  What

we were meant to be, a family, what we has often dreamed of, was actually happening!

After Ellie was born, we had 3 more babies, all just about 14 months apart.  Apparently, I

was far from barren.   We had Ellie, Seamus, Patrick and Gracie.  Ellie was 7 when Andrew was killed, and baby

Gracie was just barely 2.

They all woke up with smiles on their faces that September morning.  They giggled and smiled,  not knowing that they would never

see their Daddy again.  Or that Mommy would have a hard time simply smiling again.  Or that all

the love and laughter that their house had been full of, would be hard to find, no matter how hard they

searched.

This is not a story about me and Andrew.  That story ended on September 11, 2001.  It was a good

story, too.  It was a story of true love.  Love that lasted 22 years.  I can’t believe how lucky we were to

enjoy each other for 16 years alone.  That we were then able to have a family and that I was able to see my husband laugh and cry over his children.  To see Andrew as a Father was a gift that I will always treasure.  It was all too

beautiful.  To go back there makes me cry and I cried for 6 years.  I’m done.

This is a story about me.  A Widow.  A lonely widow, who never thought she would feel joy again.

An overweight widow in my mid 40′s, with 4 wild and crazy kids who would not stop until they found the joy and placed it, heavily (and noisily), at my feet.  This is my story.

Cupid…

Alison asks and she shall receive. ‘Tis true.

Last night I went to bed with thoughts of sweet slumber.
Dream on….

I woke up this morning and laughed. Long and hard.
It all started flooding back. Alison and I have always
shared a common love of the movies and certain tv shows.
Yes, even when we were wee little girls. Emergency, Chips,
Adam-12. Back and forth between the houses.
Am I aging myself? Am I aging Alison? Whatever.

When we got older, we loved 90210, Melrose Place and all
that silly tv. I remember loving Jason Patric and Alison
calling him my boyfriend…I was flattered in some spastic way.

Alison pursued her (our) passion
and went down to LA and got right into the mix of it all.
Big Hollywood film studios. This girl wasn’t messing around.
She did this while I raised a sweet boy and lived vicariously through her escapades. She often included me in them. She got me many a job reading
scripts, invited me to premieres and parties. She never left me
behind. And for that, I am grateful, mainly because I am a dork.

Grateful enough that my dream life often revolves around celebs,
and sometimes even Alison. (Lots of times.)

So…. the dream.

I was going to acting classes. Yes, I was. It was in a really funky
warehouse sort of setting. It had been really sassed up and decorated
the cool way that you would imagine. It was tres Hollywood. I
think it was about 3 months of classes. A couple of times a week. Until the last week, which was an intensive. We spent from morning until evening “honing” our “craft”. Imagine that.

I do need to interject here that I have never had a desire to act. Not even a little. Be a rock star? Sure. Act? Not so much. Not that any sort of reality seem to matter in my kooky dreams.

Anyhow, we are really getting down to the wire and trying to get
all the lines nailed. We had a final in the class. It consisted of a 15 minute monologue of some sort.

Did I mention that Jeremy Piven was in my class?
He was kind of stand offish towards me during the first couple of months, so imagine my surprise when we became best friends that last week. Total best friends. Weird, yet it all made sense to me in my dream.

I know that many people have no clue who Jeremy Piven (or JP, as I called him in my dream) is. He was in a sweet little sitcom called Cupid in the 90′s, with Paula Marshall. Alison and I were all over it! We loved that show and JP. We were so sad when it was cancelled. He is recently in a fabulous HBO show called Entourage and is BRILLIANT in it. I’m mad for JP, even though he’s supposed to be a real prima donna in real life. Whatever, not like I live in the real world.

Anyhow, JP and I start really bonding, going out to dinner after our classes were over, texting and even going to the tanning booth together! So L.A.
We chatted about Entourage. I vaguely remembering shouting, after a couple glasses of wine, ” I LOVE ARI GOLD” and JP laughing loudly and passionately.

Ohhhh, I soaked it up. He was far too much fun to keep to myself. So I did what any good friend would do. I called Alison and invited her to join us for dinner the night of our final performance. We would do our performance and she would watch, and then the three of us would head out for dinner. Such a simple life. (Alison let out a little scream when I told her that JP was in my class AND my new best boy friend.)

The night of the performance was suddenly upon us. I’m a nervous wreck. Fuh-reaking out. Shaking. Feel a little barfy, if I can be honest.
Sort of like first date jitters.

I see Alison out in the audience. She gives me two thumbs up and her big goofy “pal” grin. I knock it out of the ballpark! I float off the stage and slide some skin to JP as we pass in the hallway. He is on his way to do his performance. I know he’s going to kill it. He always does. (still not sure why this accomplished stage and tv actor is taking acting classes with ME, but…whatever, I embraced the madness.)

I pack up all my stuff and walk out to the front since everyone has completed their parts and the milling about has begun. Wine is being served, and I look for Alison and JP. I find them in a dark corner. Just talking, but talking in each other’s personal space. I’m feeling the love. Sweet, sweet love. I join in and feel a bit like a third wheel. No big whoop. I’m not going to let it harsh my buzz and that glorious rush of adrenaline I’ve been feeling since I stepped on the stage.

We laugh, drink wine and then one by one we are called to the back to hear what our judges/teachers have to say about our performance. We need all three judges to grade us and pass us. Whatever that means.

JP went first. He came out with tears in his eyes. He starts shaking his head and pacing. He informs us that he’s “flunked” the course. He’s shaken and upset. I’m called back next, and am terrified that I will flunk, as well. (At the same time, when I woke up I was laughing at the seriousness of it all. It was hilarious.)

When I went before the judges, they all sang to me. They sang some songs from Mama Mia. (Gracie and I have been watching this for the last couple of weeks) Then they informed me that I was the Recipient of the Grande Award.
Whatever that means. It was all too funny and strange and Broadway-ish. I floated out of the room….

Once I got out there, Alison was gone, as was JP. I called their cells. I looked for their cars. They were both gone and neither was answering their phones. Nice. I was a WINNER and had nobody to share it with. Harumph.

So, it gets funnier. I get a phone call from Alison telling me that they are headed to Vegas to get married. MARRIED. Jeremy Piven and Alison.

Then I woke up.

I’m letting my freak flag fly.

Dreamweaver…

Most people who know me, know that I have had strange celebrity dreams for the past 20+ years.

If you haven’t heard about the “Celeb Chronicles”, it is simply because it’s slightly embarrassing. I have to admit that I’ve read my fair share of gossip rags and that’s sometimes difficult to admit! The dreams themselves are usually so darn silly, but so real at times. Theymake me slightly afraid, but, at the same time, they also intrigue me in some strange way. If that makes any sense at all!

I often have repeat celebs that come back for a series of dreams or some that just pop in randomly throughout the years. I think the first series of dreams was back in the early 90′s and it involved Slash, from Guns and Roses. He was my boyfriend. We liked to play softball at Foothill School with all my friends. He gave me a diamond ring and the diamond kept falling out. Sort of a big red flag, dontcha think? Slash broke it off with me after about 5-6 dreams, over a few months. He simply left the country without telling me. Broke my dream heart, but I got over it.

The strangest part about it was that I was not even slightly a fan of Guns and Roses, but in my dreams I was their Numero Uno Fan! Trust me, in real life, that hair and that hat were not even a little bit sexy to me. Not sure how it all translated to love in my dreams, but it did. Big, huge hair love!

I remember my friend, Beach, got me a dream journal to write down my celeb dreams. He was captivated by my re-telling of the dreams. I did use the journal for a few years, but have no idea where it ended up. Eric used to crack up over my Britney Spears dreams. He thought I was a kook, and the dreams just confirmed it all for him.

So the dreams have continued over the years. I can go months without having them and then all of a sudden they come from out of nowhere. No rhyme or reason to them. They almost always make me scratch my head and try to imagine what was going on in my life and mind at the time of the dream.

This past week I have had two celeb dreams.

Was it the hot, hot heat that caused my brain to think that Kurt Russel was my best friend/suitor? He followed me from Safeway to the Beach Club to the boat launch, professing his love for me. He knew that we were just friends and that I was married, but he didnt want to go back to Los Angeles without sharing his feelings with me. You know, on the off chance that he might have a shot at me. I guess Goldie was off shooting a movie somewhere or something. It was funny to find myself sitting on the beach with Kurt. Funny to find myself telling him that I was in love with my husband and my daughter. Funny to have to let Kurt know that it just couldnt work out for us. I tried to let him down gently.

We came from two different worlds. I felt myself slipping at times and wondering if it could possibly work out. Actually, pondering it and coming to the conclusion that in another time and another place it might have worked out, but alas, I was spoken for. We enjoyed our time together, soaking up the sun, having icy cold drinks and hanging out at the bar at the Beach Club. What a dork. I always feel so lame when I wake up in my bed in Lake Tahoe after having these dreams. I tell Karl about them and he just shakes his head and laughs. “Only my wife”, that’s what he says.

The second dream was even funnier. It was last night. I was sleeping and minding my own business when someone knocked at the door. I looked around and realized that I was living with my Mother in some strange state. Like Arkansas, or someplace similar. Karl and Gracie were there with us, as well. I opened the door to find my friends, Andrew and Angie and their two beautiful kiddos. They’d driven all the way from Colorado to surprise us!

I WAS urprised and so happy. We were having a wonderful time catching up, taking pictures and swapping socks (don’t ask. i still can’t figure that part out). Gwen showed up with her boys and we all sat out in the backyard sipping Mojitos. Happy. Soaking up the love from friends that haven’t been seen in far too long.

Before too long, my Mom wandered out with some more friends who had stopped by.
Guess WHO?
Yep, you got it. Jada Pinkett Smith and her hubby Will. We all greet each like the long lost friends that we were. Will and I hang out on the hammock. Jada starts showing us some sweet dance moves and Andrew and Angie bust out with some karaoke. Gwen just sits there drinking her drink and making us laugh.

The kids are all the same age, as sometimes happens in my dreams. They frolic and meander. Will runs out to his car to get his slip n’ slide. The kids cheer a big hurrah for Will!
He’s always the life of the party, as you can imagine. The next thing I know, I am wearing the Wethead helmet and Jada takes her turn. On her first try she soaks me by pulling the plug that holds all the water in.

At one point, I remember Andrew and Angie are telling me that they need to drive home. It’s a two hour drive and they need to hit the road. We all convince them to stay over for the night and we have a wonderful bbq with Jada and Will pouring shots of tequilla. I try to tell them that I don’t need to drink to have fun. They peer pressure all of us until we cry UNCLE and wake up with horrible hangovers in the morning. Jada and Will are nowhere to be found and our socks are all missing.

Nuts? I think so. Just a little.

Not a Fan of the Drunk Driver…

So….am I a total drunk magnet or just highly sensitive to it? Cuz, I want it all to go away.

I picked up Gracie from school and headed across the street to get a soft serve cone with her.
It’s 80 degrees in Tahoe today! Wooohoooo!

Anyhow, we walked in to place our order and I noticed that the women at the counter was kind of fumbling and dropping change and….it took her about 3 minutes to come up with 4.12. The counter guy kept rolling his eyes. He finally asked to take my order while she dug around. As soon as I stepped within 3 feet of her I could smell the booze. She reeked. I know what it smells like and it was booze.

She tried to talk to Gracie and was slurring and not able to find some words.
I quickly took G outside and tried to forget about the drunk and enjoy my girl.
There are a few homeless and vagrants in Tahoe, so I figured she was one of them.
Though she wasn’t dirty, just frumpy and boozey. Though she did have green stuff
on the tip of her nose, like food.

I tried to forget about her until she walked out with car keys in her hand.
Please, please don’t let her get in a car, PLEASE. I just want to enjoy my
daughter. I don’t want to be a fucking police officer. PLEASE.
She literally stumbles across the parking lot. Gah, why. WHY WHY.

She gets in her car. I tell Gracie to stay sitting at the table and walk over to
the woman’s car and knock on the window. She tries multiple times to
get the window down, then realizes she’s holding the keys and tried to
get them in the ignition. I yank open her car door. (in retrospect, i was an idiot)
I told her that I was worried about her driving. She gave me the dumb drunk stare.
Why? Because I think you have been drinking. Who me? Not me. I’m on
medication. I told her that might be true, but Im not aware of any meds that
smell like ALCOHOL. She just played dumb and even said that she was doing
really well driving while on meds.

I told her that my son was killed by a drunk
driver and I really didn’t want her to drive in her condition, whether it was from booze or meds. I told her that I would call her a cab.

She just kept telling me she had not been drinking today. Did not have one
drink today. It was 3:30. She was drunk. Of that, I have no doubt. I told
her one more time that my son was killed by a drunk driver and that she
could kill someone. I asked her to please get out of the car and wait for
a cab. She shook her head and slurred some words. I looked her in the
eye and told her that I was going to call the police. She slammed her door and
drove off.

Gracie’s gum was bleeding from biting into the cone and having
lost a tooth last night, so it took me a couple of minutes to get my
phone to call the police. Right then I looked up and saw a police car and flagged him down and gave them drunk woman’s license plate number and pointed the directions he had driven off.

Fuck me. For real. I want to turn a blind eye to it all, but how.
She could kill someone….someone’s loved one, someone’s child.
I don’t want to be the alcohol police. I love a couple of
beers on a hot day, or a few glasses of wine. I hate
that alcohol is so addicting and ruining so many lives in
so many different ways. I”M ANGRY!

I’m not asking why me in a poor me way, but why me in a
truly WHY ME way. I need to figure out why this keeps happening
to me and what I am supposed to do with it. I know I can’t
save the fucking world, but maybe I need to see more
of what and why it’s in my face. Like Eric dying wasn’t
in my face enough. I am listening, God, but, I’m lost.

I’m a Loser, Baby…

Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt are married!

In my dream! Yeah,
I had another celebrity dream.
They were married to each other and lived on a street
in Los Gatos that I used to pass on my hikes daily.

She was outside “tending” to her roses. She started chatting with
me, so I stopped and helped her pull off the dead leaves.

Brad came sauntering out and asked me if I knew of a creek/river that
their doggie could run at. We all hopped in the car
and drove up to Lexington and tossed some sticks into the
water for “Siggie”.

(she drove a dark blue older mercedes wagon,
and was not a GREAT driver, Brad sat in the back with the pup. i
say up front and gave directions)

We went back to their house and hung out in the kitchen while
Brad cooked. Julia was a bit heavy handed with the wine!

Brad insisted that we do tequilla shots since he was making
Mexican food. Oy. He kept yelling, “Ay-yi-yiiiiiii”. Total
party animal.

I called Alison to tell her that I would not be able to meet her
for dinner, and Julia insisted I invite her up to their house.
“The more, the merrier”! Plus, they really didn’t know anyone
in town yet. They had a couple friends flying later in the night.
Uhhhhh, yeah. George and Ben Affleck?

It was a PARTAY! Hats, dancing, George, Ben, Alison,
Julia, Brad and a couple of other random people that
I can’t remember. Of course, Julia and I became best friends.

Letting My Freak Flag Fly…

I just can’t believe my strange luck and weirdness abounding. This could be long.

You’ve been warned and you most likely will be bored.

I get that, but I am still a freeking freak and need to write this out.

As some of you might know, I was diagnosed last year with Fibro, extreme onset peri due to trauma, adrenal exhaustion, post traumatic stress and few other things tossed in. The symptoms are similar for most of those crazy labels, so I’ve just been treating the symptoms…fuck the labels.

Peri hit me hard with my very first migraines and a 6 week late period Nov-Dec. of 2007. Hard. I went to a Naturopath MD when we lived in Maui. She helped direct me and label me. Not exactly what I wanted, but she did get me on the EPO, Motherwort and cal/mag, which have helped me tremendously. But the full blown panic and fear of EVERYTHING and almost agorophobic feelings just were too unpredictable. While not incapacitating, the feelings hit when I least expected it and started to impact our loves. I knew that I needed to bring in the big guns. I read and researched and read some more. Found a great online peri community and discovered that I was not losing my mind, there is hope and I can get through this. I started researching doctors and kept coming back to the same one. In Sacramento. He has people fly in from all over the place to see him. I kept getting pointed back to him. First saw his name last Fall, but kept putting of making an appt. I kept thinking I’d get better. I got worse. So finally, I called last month to get an appt. They were booking two months out, but called me right back with a cancellation for today. I talked to the physicians’s asst., Diane, for about 30 minutes. She got all my info and said it sounded like I needed to get my thyroid tested, for sure, but that I was definitely in peri. Yep. I know. It was just so nice to get it all confirmed by a kind, compassionate woman.

So we drive down to Sacramento today. I’m a nervous wreck. Hate doc and dentist appts. I get in to the office, everyone is so sweet. I feel like I can breathe. They take me into the doctor’s office and I sit across from him. He tells me all about himself and asks about me. Where I’m from. How long I’ve been in Tahoe. We talk about when my issues started. I tell him about Eric. He is sympathetic, tells me that has definitely impacted my hormonal health. We talk some more about my symptoms. We somehow get on the topic that I lived in Los Gatos for 41 years. He looks at me strangely and just sits silently for a minute. Then asks if I know where he practiced medicine for 40 years? Uh, no. Nope. Not a clue. LOS GATOS. Oh, small world. Yeah, best friends with Eric and my entire family’s doctor for years. The doctor that delivered Gracie. So many people that we both know. He’s probably late 60′s-ish. Lived there until about 5 years ago. As a matter of fact, (he starts putting it all together), he has a grandson that went to Los Gatos High and graduated 5 or 6 years ago. Wonder if my son knew him. What’s his name? Andrew. ANDREW Q.? Yes. Yes. Yes. He is my grandson. WHAT THE HELL??????

 

Andrew was one  of Eric’s best friends. Since elementary. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Eric Q? YES! Oh my.

I started bawling. I was just in shock. Andrew is like my son. He calls me on Mother’s Day. We see each other as often as possible. He flies into LG from Newport Beach to celebrate G’s birthday. He makes a HUGE effort. He and his Mom always attend family events, if they can. His Mom came to my baby shower. I love Cheryl.

The doctor is flustered and freaked out. He starts talking about the documentary that Andrew made about Eric’s life and death. The one that went out to all of No. California’s high schools. He spent every minute after Eric died, in our house, making that movie. ( and many months before eric died sitting at our computer) He won a film festival award for his film about Eric. It was such a passion of love. I could go on and on and on….it was surreal.

He told me to hang on a minute and leaves the room. I am not sure what he is doing, but start to almost hyperventilate. I can’t explain it, but it was like a direct punch to my gut. Such mixed emotions. Fucking weird. I’m shaking. (my body is dramatic, my mind is telling it to settle the hell down and relax)

He walks back in with an older woman. She sees me crying. She looks worried. He tells her to sit down and listen. He’s kind and teary eyed. She’s worried. I touch her arm and tell her that I’m alright. I fear that she thinks I’m the bearer of bad news. She sits. He tells me that this is Diane. Andrew’s GRANDMOTHER!!! The woman I spoke to on the phone is his wife, Andrew’s Grandmother and his PA.

He tells her who I am. She immediately bursts into tears and holds onto me for dear life. It was so fucking weird. We know so much about each other, but had never met. She has seen the movie. She knows all about Gracie. She tells me that I saved those kids when Eric died. I tell her that they saved me. It just went on and on and on. It was bizarre and exhausting and heart warming and strange and weird…… We just could not believe that I was sitting there in their office in Sac. Via Tahoe, Maui and back to Los Gatos. What are the fucking odds. Really. Who would this happen to, besides me? Again, I’m not being dramatic, but it really was so weird, so weird, so weird.

I know so much about his Grandmother. She and Andrew are very close. She helped his Mom raise him, like my Mom helped me with Eric. Andrew and Eric had very similar lives. Both raised by poor single Moms in a VERY wealthy town. They were both so sweet and kind and loved by all. They hit it off in grade 5 and spent as much time together as possible. Many video clips I have of Eric are from Andrew. I love that boy and I loved his Mom. I was just blown away to meet his Grandmother. Words don’t really do the surreal-ness of it all. Talk about kookiness…my life.

We wrapped up the freak show and got back to me and my ailments, but I really had a hard time getting back to that calm place that I had been. Did. not. Happen.

Doctor was amazing. Kind of confirmed everything that I already knew. Is starting me on some bio hormones. Loved being validated. He told me that I was at extreme end of peri scale. A 10 all the way around. Is going to get some bloodword for my thyroid. My dry, crepey skin, brittle nails, cold feet and hands, dry everything else. is a huge sign, but testing freeT3 and FreeT4 will confirm it. I went out of his office right into Diane’s office. We sat and talked for about 15 minutes and then Karl and Gracie came in and got to meet both the Doctor and Diane. (karl was confused, and when we got in the car told me that could only happen to me…duh)

I am still reeling from it. I guess I could say not in a [i]bad[/i] way, just dizzy from it all. My life. How the fuck did I get here. I can’t even go see a Doctor in the middle of nowhere without it being brought back. All of it. Diane talked about how horrible that Thanksgiving was…..how upset her daughter and Andrew were. Nobody had Thanksgiving that year that knew Eric. It was the Thanksgiving that wasn’t, she said.

I can run, but I can’t hide from it, from him, from my sadness, from my grief, from my wonderful memories, from everyone’s memories. Can I? I throw in the towel.

(we had a great rest of the day. we went to old town sacramento, walked along the river, ate some peanut butter/chocolate fudge, loved my girl and karl. i am just so grateful for all that i have and have had, but talk about wow. wow)

Baby, I’m Amazed…

Gracie never ceases to amaze me. Ever. I’m serious.
She is brave and so full of life. Where did that fearlessness come from? 

Gracie’s teacher is on a roller derby team. The Tahoe Derby Dames. Her team name is, “Sister Slayer”, she is also the team captain. They all wear fishnets and short skirts and the majority of the “dames” have Betty Page hairdos. (not sister slayer’s, shes got a blonde bob)

Tons o’ Tatoooos, as well.
It’s an entire culture that I didn’t really know existed before this year. It beats the Tahoe Hippie Funks, anyday. The derby culture appears to bathe on a regular basis. Which, we can all agree, is a good thing.

So today we went to our second “bout” of the year. Gracie and Maddy (her sweet friend) made signs to hold up to cheer on their teachers. Did I mention that their teacher’s assistant is on the Derby Dames, as well? She goes by the lovely moniker of “Scarlet<Fire”. Not sure what the inverted arrow thingie is all about, but that’s her name.

Live Roller Derby is hilarious to watch. They make mean faces at each other and knock each other down. It’s all elbows and clusters of girls toppling over each other. Girl on Girl is what they advertise. They did not let us down. Lots of dog piles, crashing into the teams on the bench, flying over the hay bales, etc. 

This weekend the opposing team came from Fresno. The Fresno girls were a bit rough with our Dames, so Gracie and Maddy were up in arms. It was a riot to see Gracie and Maddy screaming at the white team to “be NICE to Mrs. Terpening!”. 

The last time we saw them skate there was a great belly dance halftime show. Gracie and Maddy were mesmerized by the costumes and the movements. Today’s halftime show was supposed to be fire dancers. Apparently, they didn’t get the memo and never showed up. For some reason, they had a bunch of hula hoops and decided to have an impromptu hula hoop contest for halftime. 

They had about 15 hoops and offered them to the crowd of about 200 people. Gracie and Maddy were two of the five that were fearless enough to get out on the track and wiggle their hips! Gracie rocked it. Seriously. The entire place was in hysterics. She could not be stopped. 

There were the two 6 yr olds, two kids that looked to be about 10-11 and then a 20-something girl. They all had dropped their hoops multiple times while Gracie just gently swayed her hips and kept it rocking. People were commenting how she could lull them to sleep because she was so in the groove and not gyrating all over the place. She has a sweet move, I must admit.

She started to get a little cocky and was walking around in a very small circle as she continued to hula hoop. Going from side to side and playing to the crowd. The crowd went wild! Screaming and cheering and whistling. She started moving faster. Louder cheers. Her teachers were on the sidelines cheering her on, shouting her name! She started making her circle a little bigger. I don’t think that her smile could have been any bigger. She was bathing in the applause and adulation. Soaking it up.  It was like she had grown ten feet tall.

After about ten minutes, the announcer called it quits and asked the crowd to cheer the loudest for the winner. The crowd went wild for “the little girl in the black sweatshirt”! The announcer told her to go to the Derby Dames booth and she could pick out anything that she wanted! 

She started walking off the track to get her prize, still HULA HOOPING! The crowd went wild and the announcer bet her that she couldn’t walk around the entire track while hula hooping. So she did.

All. the. way. around. the. track. Hula. Hooping. 
For real.

She is my hero. I laughed until I cried. Karl had tears in his eyes. We were so proud and so in awe of her. Where did she come from. She doesn’t really need us. This is her world and she’s not afraid to live in it. 

I wish that I could convey just how magical that ten minutes was. I wish you could have been there and seen my sweet girl face a crowd of 200+ and put smiles on their faces. She’s pretty powerful.

If You’re Happy and You Know It…

(This was written two days ago, before i fell victim to an enormous CLAPPING of my head.  Can you say migraine?  Paralyzing pain.  Not good.  I hope that you don’t know it)Clap your hands!

Life is good.  Gracie is great.  Karl is great.  We are all healthy and

happy and enjoying each day we have together.  The weather is cool and crisp

and very Fall-like, soon to be Winter.  I’ll get back to you on that!  I’m 

skeeered!  I might ski this Winter.  I’m thinking about it, and that’s a step

in the right direction.

 

Gracie is just thriving

at school.  She truly loves to get up and GOOOOO each and every morning.

She was even sad last Saturday that she didn’t have school!  Until we told

her that we would have fun family time together.  That turned her frown upside down!

She is so easy to please and so much fun!  

We have been doing family gym outings. 

Karl works out and I watch Gracie while she does the rock wall.  Remind me to get pics!

She has already outclimbed the walls at our gym.  On to the real thing, come spring.  Not! Then, I work out and Karl and Gracie play air hockey and eat pizza.  It’s a fun-fest, I tell ya!

Gracie has been very much into her arts and crafts and is drawing and painting like there is no tomorrow!  I was worried for a while at the rate of paper that she is going through, but decided that it’s worth it.  We will make up for the loss of trees in some other way.  Maybe we will plant some this Spring.  That should help. right? 

She has several wonderful friends at school that she really enjoys having playdates with.  Sadly, our very best friends, Nona, Scott and Aryana moved to Atlanta this week.  We made a photo album for Gracie and Aryana with lots of pictures of the two of them together over the years.  We can’t wait to visit them in sweet Georgia! 

 

I love my husband.  I love my girlie-girl.  I love my life!

 

We head to Chicago on Tuesday to visit Karl’s family.  Can’t wait to see them all and meet our new nephew/cousin, Joshua.  Pics to follow!

 

Gracie and I are starting a website together.  It’s called Bookielookie.com

We will be reviewing children’s books and mommy books!  Can’t wait to get started on

that, but I need to learn how to work on a website, so look for it after the new year!