will miracles ever cease

Wednesday, 26 August, 2009

Let’s hope not!

A couple Friday’s ago I got a call from Moma.  I’m always telling her how crazy my life can get, and that you never know what will happen next. So when she called, she said “when I talked to you this morning, we had no idea what this afternoon would bring, but WS2 just called me and wants to come over for a visit”.

My first thought was “Oh, how nice!” and I said so.

That was followed by “I betcha anything WS1 will be there too”, but I was too scared to say it out loud.  I was afraid if I said it, then it wouldn’t happen.

I had a feeling this visit was the result of THE CONVERSATION.  At first, I told her to have WS2 call me while he was there.  Then I said that I’d call and for her to have WS2 answer so I could have some fun with him. 

When I called and he answered, I said “hello? Who is this? You sound like my son!”.  He knew it was me so he laughed and said “you must have the wrong number”. So I said “ok, sorry” and acted like I was fixin’ to hang up.  He said “Mom! Wait! it’s me!”.  Of course, I acted surprised and asked what he was doing there.  He said they (I took that to mean his dad and him) were in town for the night and he wanted to come see Grandma. 

We had a really fun conversation. 

We talked about him getting up at 6:30 running and doing sets of bleachers with his friends to get ready for football.  We talked about the 3 gallons of birthday cake flavored ice cream we ate over the summer (it’s probably a good thing they don’t make it up here-I’d be wide as a house).  We talked about the replacement fan at my mom’s house and how fast it blew air. And of course, we talked about BASEBALL.  Just so happens that the Yankees and the Red Sox (his favorite team for some reason) had been playing. I got to brag about us winning.  

See… fun stuff! 

While we were talking I could hear a deep voice in the background talking to my mom.   I asked WS2 who that was.  He said “idunno” in that I-know-but-not-sure-I’m-allowed-to-tell-you voice.  I even said “you don’t know who it is?”.

Still nothing. 

Did he think Moma wasn’t going to tell me?  Yes, he knew she would. He also knew that information about WS1 wasn’t coming from him.  I don’t know if he’s been told not to say anything, or if he just doesn’t want to get in the middle of anything having to do with WS1.

My gut tells me BOTH.

After we talked a little more, I told him I would let him go so he could visit with Grandma. I told him it was very nice of him to visit her and that I knew that she loved having him there. 

Now I had to play the waiting game.

I had to wait until Moma called me to tell me how things went.  I didn’t play very well.  She finally called me a while later to tell me that YES, WS1 WAS THERE! (How’s that for woman’s/mother’s intuition??)  My BRO2 was there to visit with him too.  She told me all about their conversations.  Where he’s going to school, what he’s majoring in, how he has to live in the dorm his freshman year, that he won’t be playing sports, that school is about 5 hours away so he won’t be going home much,  how he can’t wait for it to start, and how he wishes he had never sold his truck for his Mustang.  He told her they (which now I take to mean as WS1, WS2, and their dad) had come to visit family before he goes off to school. 

When I was talking to WS2, Moma took her chance to talk to him about the nitty-gritty. 

You GO Moma!!

She asked him what had happened between them.  He had a lotta nerve and said that she doesn’t call him anymore.  Wha??  I’m glad she set him straight by telling him that she HAD called him, left messages, wrote in his thank you notes to call her, etc. and that HE was the one who hadn’t called.  He decided that yeah, maybe she was right.  She told him that she was getting older and that they’re missing out on so much with each other. 

His answer: “well, you know I don’t talk to my mom”.

Once again, my mom was my hero.  She asked him “Why is that? Has someone said something about her?”

He said “nobody’s said anything”.

Moma said “because if they have, I’m sure she has an explanation.”

He said “I don’t want to talk about it anymore”.

My hero said “well, nobody in the world loves you more than your mother”. 

I could’ve reached through the phone to hug and kiss her for that.  Instead, I sat on my couch listening and crying.  I cried because I was so happy he came to see her.  This was DEFINITELY progress in the right direction.

I also cried because I was wishing more than anything that he would’ve come to see me too. I cried because I miss him so much.  I cried because I don’t know why he doesn’t want to talk to me.  I cried because I hadn’t cried in a really long time and it felt sooo good.  

Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs

Tuesday, 25 August, 2009

26714003

 

The following is a review from Amazon: www.amazon.com/Comfort-Food-Kate-Jacobs

 

Kate Jacobs’s debut novel, THE FRIDAY NIGHT KNITTING CLUB, was a word-of-mouth bestseller, catching on not only among avid knitters but also among fans of women’s literature in general. It’s now even set to become a feature film starring Julia Roberts, which will release sometime in 2009. 

With her second novel, COMFORT FOOD, Jacobs again delves into the lives and loves of a group of interconnected friends and family. This time, however, the ending is decidedly less weepy and more, well, comforting. 

Augusta (Gus) Simpson is a familiar face to millions of Americans. She’s the star of the longest-running series on the Cooking Channel, “Cooking with Gusto,” and her face adorns not only countless television sets but also her own line of cookware and other household products. But as Gus’s fabulous lifestyle (her TV show is filmed out of the spacious kitchen in her Westchester manor home) marches on, so does time — and Gus is staring 50 squarely in the face. Is it possible that this energetic, hot mama has left her youth behind her? 

It seems that Gus’s bosses at the Cooking Channel are asking themselves the same questions. With a roster of new, hip television chefs and a handful of new extreme theme programs designed to appeal to ever-younger viewers, perhaps Gus’s show seems a little, well, old. Can Gus and her friends at the network figure out a new format that will preserve it from cancellation? 

For Gus, the answer to her problems is right under her nose — at her kitchen table, in fact. When an unexpected cancellation leaves Gus scrambling for show guests, she recruits her friends and family to serve as co-hosts and sous chefs, with humorous, and delicious, results. This accidental pairing of Gus’s closest friends and family — including her twenty-something daughters Sabrina and Aimee, Sabrina’s ex-boyfriend Troy, and Gus’s painfully reclusive neighbor Hannah — with aspiring Cooking Channel host (and former Miss Spain) Carmen Vega leads to a new hit show…and plenty of tension. As the guests come together at Gus’s table, tempers flare, tensions mount, and there’s plenty of time for everyone to discover not only delicious food but also new truths about themselves. 

At times, COMFORT FOOD can seem like a glimpse into a particularly fractious group therapy session, as sisters bicker with each other (and their mother), as former lovers try to become friends, as jealous co-workers negotiate professional boundaries, and as at least one woman tries to overcome her past mistakes. Jacobs successfully balances these somewhat tiresome exchanges, however, by offering numerous flashbacks into each character’s past, providing much-needed character development that can help gain readers’ sympathy for these sometimes prickly individuals. 

Gus herself is a winning character, and readers will be cheering for this mature, lively heroine to achieve both professional and personal success — which may even include love, an ingredient that’s been missing from Gus’s life since her husband’s death years before. Happy endings and a mid-life shot at romance will leave readers of COMFORT FOOD satisfied but looking forward to another helping of feel-good women’s fiction from Kate Jacobs. 

— Reviewed by Norah Piehl 

i fought the cat and the cat won

Monday, 24 August, 2009

Last Friday afternoon our cat Esther had a vet appointment.  Just the usual annual exam, updating of shots, and the always fun fecal test.  Sounds easy enough.  Easy, but not fun gathering the poo-poo to carry into the vets office in a SEE-THRU zip loc bag.  why I have a problem with that, I dunno… maybe I feel bad for her because I’m exposing her personal excrement to a waiting room full of people, only to place it in a kidney shaped puke bowl on the counter after the receptionist asks, and rather loudly I might add, “did you bring a fecal sample?”.  It’s as if I’m announcing “HERE’S ESTHER’S POO!”.

 

Anyway, I’m obviously digressing if I’ve taken the subject down to cat poop.

 

Esther has a sixth sense. She sees veterinarian people. Even before they see her.

 

I know she reads my mind, after all, she IS a girl and has female intuition, which more often that not, IS SO RIGHT, don’t you agree??

 

I tried so hard not to do any of the usual things that would make her run to play hide and go seek:

I didn’t get my purse ready, didn’t even LOOK at it.

I didn’t put my flip flops on, didn’t even take them OUT OF THE CLOSET.

I didn’t get her crate out, which is a definite NO-NO. I didn’t even go near the closet it’s in.

I didn’t ask her if she wanted a treat at the same time I’m getting her toy out.  She knows I’m such a fake with that.

 

I tried to act as normal as I could. I couldn’t think about her appt ‘cause SHE READS MY MIND, YALL!  When I knew I had to start getting her ready, I gave myself an extra 15 minutes, you know, just in case I’d have problems getting her.

 

It was time to get serious and she was NO WHERE to be found.  I did the obligatory “Esther want a treat?” while I went to get her favorite toy to see if she wanted to come out and play.  She still knew I was a fake. But hey, you never know when it might work. 

 

Nothing.

 

I went upstairs to look under our king-sized bed, her usual hang out on days like this.  There she was, surrounded by my books and tote bags, looking at me with I-know-what-you’re-up-to eyes, crouched in that farthest, unreachable black hole of a spot.  Ugh. I’m doomed….

 

Wait! I have a GREAT idea! I’m going to vacuum our room so I can flush her out. Yeah! I’ll actually be on time for her appointment, maybe even EARLY! (Won’t they be surprised?!?  I’m a habitual 5 minutes late person to just about EVERYTHING, even though I really try and I don’t mean to be…. I guess that’s another blog for another day). I lug the vacuum cleaner upstairs and start vacuuming.

 

Nothing.

 

I really thought that would work since she’s usually deathly afraid of the Dyson.  Either that or she’s a typical “child” and wants to be as far from housework as possible. Wait!  I have ANOTHER great idea!  WHILE I’m vacuuming, I’ll turn on the tv to a rock n’ rollin’ music channel and BLAST it! Yeah! Maybe I’ll still have a chance to be early to her appt! SWEET!

 

Nothing.

 

I didn’t know this, but Esther must really like Bon Jovi.  She didn’t move even one kitty muscle. Great, now I’ll have to resort to my last resort. So there I am, laying my body and the side of my face on the floor next to our bed (which by the way is a sleigh bed with not much arm room between it and the floor), poking a broom at my cat, with my tennis elbow arm, and my pinned up hair coming out of my bobbie pins.  First I swing the broom back and forth in front of her to get her to move.  Well, she moved. Farther away, if that’s even possible. I’ll have to move my arm even farther under the bed to try to reach her. By now my shoulder is halfway under the bed and I’ve gone from swinging the broom to poking at her with it.  All she does is growl and hiss, then paw at it like a bug. Now I’m really swinging and poking at her. Most of my books have made it out from under the bed, with pages bent, covers coming undone and my arm is killing me. 

 

Nothing.

 

Now I’m flustered! She’s getting the works. I turn on the Dyson, blast the music, swing and poke with the broom, and yell with my highest pitched infadel voice “LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!”.  This goes on for, oh, I dunno, AN ETERNITY.  Now there’s no way I’ll be early. I won’t be even on time. I’ll be late.  And not just 5 minutes late. So late in fact, that now I have to call and cancel.

 

I waved the white flag.

 

Things I’ve learned from my cat:

·      don’t fix your hair before trying to flush your cat out from under the bed

·      don’t wear black-carpet fuzz multiplies

·      don’t let your cat make you resort to housework

·      don’t think your smarter than your cat

 

breathe in, breathe out… if only it were that easy

Monday, 10 August, 2009

I have a cold. Or allergies.  How do you tell the difference?

 

~sniff~

 

It started the other night. THE DAY AFTER WE GOT HOME. I couldn’t wait to get back here in NY to enjoy our house in the woods again.

 

And now I have this cold. Or allergies.  I don’t know the difference.

 

When my throat started getting scratchy, I was in denial.  “NO! NO! NO! PLEASE!  I don’t wanna be sick!!”  So I kept swallowing a lot, thinking I could wash it down with my spit.  You know, that magic medicinal spit of mine.  The same spit I use to make my cuts stop bleeding. Come on, you know you’ve done it! 

 

“I’ll be better in the morning, I just need some rest. I’ll go to sleep and when I wake up I’ll be good as new.”  Between the begging, the swallowing, and the lying pep talk, none of it worked.  So here I am.

 

With a cold. Or allergies.

 

~sniff~

 

Snot, yes I said it, is just so complicated! One minute it feels all jammed packed and your nose feels like a suitcase full of enough clothes to last a decade.  The next minute it’s running faster than a New York minute.   Other times it’s just hanging around, checking out the nostril scene.

 

Then there’s the sneezing. AAAAhhhh, the sneezing…. When I sneeze with a cold, or allergies, I just wanna ‘CHOO everything out of my head. Don’t you hate it when you’re waiting for a sneeze to come? All that “aaaah…. aaaaah…. aaaaah  “it’s never going to get here!”  then all of a sudden you sneeze your toenails out.

 

IT FEELS SOOOO GOOD!

 

Except then you have to blow your nose. Your ears feel stopped up.  Your nose is red and starting to peel.

 

AGAIN. FOR THE  5,345,567,927,036th TIME.

 

~sniff~

 

The best part? Oh, the best part is when you wake up in the morning with crusties all around your nose and you can’t breathe and you’re coughing up hardened phlegm, yes, I said that too, and your lips are cracked and bleeding from being so chapped. (No worries there, I’ll just use my miracle medicinal spit to take care of that.)

 

Isn’t THAT attractive??!?

 

But that’s where I’m at.  Day 4.  Now I’m looking forward to the day where my snot dries up, my nostrils burn every time I inhale, and new skin has replaced the peeled on my nose and my lip.

 

Nothin’ like setting your sights high…..

 

like, totally

Thursday, 6 August, 2009

WS2 and I had the best summer EVER! Most of our time was spent floating on a raft going ‘round and ‘round the lazy, crazy, wavy river and FINDING THINGS at Schlitterbahn.

AWESOME!

And I’m talking about our tans too! We were rockin’, oh yeah.

There was lots of fishing going on too. We fished on the shore. Off the pier. In the channel. Fished with a pole, fished with a net. Even crabbed with a crab trap. _por2059

WS2 caught a keeper in the channel with a pole. An 18” speckled trout! We had a full zip-lock bag in the freezer to prove it. Hubby caught a speckled trout keeper too. Then it was “yes sir, yes sir, TWO bags full”.

NICE!

I somehow caught a really strange fishlike creature-kinda looked like a catfish with legs- in the channel with a throw net. It was so strange in fact, that my FIL had to look it up on the internet to find out what it was. How do you google something that you have no clue about?? Type in “ugly nasty unknown creature”? No telling WHAT you’d get from that! Turns out it was something that’s supposed to be in the Indian River, of all places, or somewhere far off like that. All I know is that it was a looong way from home.

Hubby, WS2 and I also went to an Astros baseball game. It was an exciting game, even though Hubby was worried that our parking lot attendant was going to leave our lot before we got back. ~sigh~ We can’t be together and NOT go to a game.

IT’S OUR THING.

We also rocked the house with Guitar Hero. I just know our neighbor loves us.

We did the beach scene a lot too. We staked our claim with umbrellas, beach chairs, coolers, food, drink, and the BOOGIE BOARD! Along with that came sand, salt, hermit crabs, and seagulls.

_por2181

But now my summer with WS2 has come to an end. Over. Done. Final. Through. And I’m oooh soooo sad.  ~sob~  Some of the happiest times for me are the days when WS2 comes to spend time with us.

Some of the saddest (and most gloomiest, darkest, miserable, heartbreaking, evil, depressing, and dreaded-ok, so I exaggerate a little) times are the days that I have to take WS2 back to his dad. When I watch him ride off, it feels like my whole world just drops out from under my feet like a rude, crude carnival ride. The hole in my heart is left gaping open until the next time I see him.

Most importantly, I will say that I am so very thankful for our time together. Not only do we float, fish, rock out, and ride waves together, but we talk, we catch up, we have fun, and we grow closer.

WE BOND.

Like Krazy Glue.

That means the world to me. I love him with all my heart. Since he doesn’t live with me full time, I get to be the friend, the FUN PARENT. But being his mother and being able to mother him makes me feel complete, like totally.

YW

wife@yankeewife.com

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