Oreo 2001-2009

My beloved Oreo died suddenly 5 months ago.  It’s been a difficult loss. Losing a pet is never easy. The depth of this grief surprised me. The following is excerpt from Geneen Roth’s blog. Thank you, Geneen. The healing has begun.

http://blog.geneenroth.com

“Do not grieve for me. I am in a place where tuna fish juice flows like water, where I can jump like the wind and every place is soft and sunny. If you must, grieve for what you won’t allow yourself to have. Grieve for all the ways you separate yourself from this radiance: from laying down in a patch of sun at two o’ clock on any old day, from knowing you are beloved on the earth.” — Geneen Roth

When my daughter was seven years old, she and my husband went to Florida to stay at my in-laws for a week. It was not a good visit. My in-laws had no interest in varying their routine and my daughter was not comfortable in their house and had no idea how to occupy herself. My dear husband was clueless.

Jamie called me many times a day in distress. Food was the main problem. There was never enough or there was food she was not familiar with. One conversation went like this:

“Mom, we’re having something disgusting for dinner. Do I have to eat it?”

“What is it?” (My MIL is an old-school hard-core Italian cook. I’m thinking tripe or pig’s knuckles)

“I don’t know but it’s kinda white with bumps all over it and it’s the grossest thing I have ever seen”

“Put your father on”

“What’s up?” He asks (clueless, as usual, that there is a crisis).

“Jamie is tramatized about the dinner food.”

“The chicken?”

“Chicken?”

“Yeah, Grandma’s making roasted chicken.”

“Put Jamie on.”

“So I don’t have to eat it, right Mom?”

“Jamie, it’s roasted chicken just like we eat all the time.”

“But your’s isn’t disgusting like that.”

“Honey, mom buys it already cooked from the deli. Grandma is going to cook it herself.”

“Yuck, that’s what it looks like before they cook it? I’m never eating chicken again.”

I hear the rumblings. African-American women are upset. They finally get a black princess and she spends most of her time as a frog. To make the situation even worse, she ends up with a white prince.

I get it. Really I do. But come on ladies. The more important question? Does she have a mother? A dead mother? Does the mother die during the movie? Or is she simply non-existant? I haven’t seen the movie but I’m just *dieing* to know.

The last movie I took my daughter to see was Finding Nemo. I think she was nine at the time. Not only does the mother die on screen but there was some sort of brutal attack by a gang of killer fish. My daughter is scarred for life. She has never been to the movies since. Oh sure, she says its because she hates sitting still for so long but I know the truth. The image of that dead mother fish is burned into her brain. Being in the movie theater brings back the traumatic feelings.

Does anyone know if this new movie is safe for sensitive teens?

We didn’t see Little Mermaid 3 but I understand they go back in time just so we can find about the brutal crushing death of Ariel’s mother.

And Bambi? Was that movie really rated G? Rugrats is rated PG because there are poop jokes. Really? Poop jokes need parental guidance?

Not sure what I was thinking. Guess I wasn’t. There I was… standing amidst a sea of black and chrome and suddenly it occurred to me… pink was a strange color choice to wear to the biker expo.

I expected to be the only one without a tattoo. I even expected to be the only with blond highlights but it never occurred to me that I would be the only one not wearing black. Could have gotten away with navy or brown but nooo… I decide to wear pink. There was one other person there in pink… my daughter.

As we walked proudly past the Hell’s Angels’ recruitment table, I thought to myself, “That’s right, you wear your colors and we’ll wear ours.”

I am such a rebel.

New York’s Mega Millions is up to $325 million dollars. So I bought my ticket and then I had a “disagreement” with my husband about how to spend the money.  I felt that $325 million was just too decadant and hoped we wouldn’t win. He thought that was rediculous. But I’m not so sure. Don’t all the big winners get divorced? They buy a big house. The wife has an affair with the pool boy, the husband gets hair plugs and the kids become drug addicts. Right?

There is something about easy money that just brings out the worst in people.  Even the idea of so much easy money caused turmoil in my marriage. We were actually fighting about money we would never win… and we didn’t.

My husband and my daughter are both born under the sign of Leo. I am a Capricorn. According to Astrology.com.au

“You couldn’t find two more diametrically opposed characters than Capricorn and Leo…  Leo’s fire and your earthiness are not elements that blend well.”

It gets better…

“Leos born between 14 August and 23 August (my husband) are not compatible with you. They’re highly motivated, but not amenable to your advice or your way of doing things. ”

And better…

“Be cautious with Leos born between 23 July and 4 August (my daughter). They are double Sun characters who can burn up your cool demeanour and create difficulties for you.”

Let’s try another website:

“[Capricorn & Leo] are both representatives of independent signs of the zodiac that inclined to dominate in everyday life. These two are almost complete opposites and in case of a love affair their distinctions can appear insignificant, but in case of marriage they will never be happy together.”

Geez, and I thought I was happy.

We’re heading off to the Jersey shore. What to bring… thong bikini or skirted one-piece? The bikini will go better with my orange Crocs but I already got the lime green toe polish to match the horizontal stripes around the suit. So I’ll take the one-piece… maybe not. I can’t jog in my one piece. There’s no place to put my Walkman. It tucks so nicely down the front of my bikini bottom.

Kinda gives new meaning

to the term secret service

when you find him hiding

in the back corner of the

parking lot.

the flashing light?

Dad on Father's Day

As kids, we didn’t appreciate Dad’s keen fashion-forward styling. He wore boxers when all the other dads wore tightie whities. And later, when the other dads switched to boxers, our dad made sure his boxers stuck out of his clothes. OK, so maybe they stuck out below his shorts instead of above his pants but that was the only detail he got wrong.

He is quite a trendsetter. Dad had a buzz cut when the other men were still growing out their hair. He drove a VW bug long before small cars were considered “cool”. Thirty years before the word minimalist was coined, Dad was an outspoken card-carrying member of the club. (We had the only black and white TV on the block.)

After all these years, I am finally able to accept Dad’s uncanny ability to predict future trends. Just watch the celebrities, over-sized aviator glasses will be the next big thing.