I drive 28.  I drive 28 to and from work everyday.  I don’t really know if you can actually call what I do driving on 28 though considering the fact that I mostly sit in traffic on 28 and I swear I once saw a snail move past me faster.  I see a lot while I sit in traffic “driving” on 28.  Just a week or so ago — I saw the guy again in the red Audi boasting his SPRMDNR license plate.  I thought that was the top all of “things I see while driving on 28″ until just the other day —- I saw the most baffling thing I have ever gazed upon . . . some idiot driving a (not so) Smart car on 28.  Honestly now — route 28 has to be one of the most dangerous roads in the state of Pennsylvania.  The way that it bottlenecks, the amount of tractor trailers and commercial passenger buses, port authority buses, school buses, huge ass coal bucket trucks, dump trucks, crazy fucking landscapers and Penn-Dot trucks pulling equipment on shabby looking trailers.  Complete fucking idiots (yep, that includes me) drive on route 28.

The on-ramps to route 28 all have stop signs strategically placed at the top of them now — but do those fucking idiots stop?  Nope.  They don’t even Wield (just for you Darbs). They are not on-ramps . . . they are fucking runways without a traffic control agent telling people when to launch.  Crazy ass people just dart in front of you all the time . . . your options are to kill them (because you know you are going 65 instead of the posted 35 or 45 mph), or swerve and hope to hell that there is room in the left lane or that someone doesn’t kill you.

Now . . . knowing all of these things —- please, someone explain to me why a fucking idiot would buy a (not so) Smart car and drive it on 28?  I watched as this tiny little matchbox of a thing almost disappeared between a charter bus and a Ford F-150. The idiot driving that Ford was talking on his cell phone and eating pizza.  I kid you not.  One wrong slip and that Smart car would become a tar patch in the road.

The lady driving this car seemed to be about middle-aged. Her hair appeared to be a kinky mess and she was poking at her blackberry.  Ahhh, a genius — not only was she stupid enough to buy a Smart car and drive it on 28, she was texting and driving at the same time.  Oh hell, why not?  I mean honestly, if you have a death wish — why not?

I wonder, when people sign the paperwork to purchase a Smart car — is there a box for them to check that asks “are you suicidal?”

People, I realize that the environment is in trouble and that we as humans should be doing out best to preserve it.  However, I also realize that I have spent more time sitting in grid-lock traffic on 28 because people do not know how to drive and cause accidents all the time — sometimes fatal accidents.  Now ask yourself this . . . how many trees are you saving by buying a (not so) Smart car, driving it on a major highway known as a death-trap and possibly causing an accident that would tie up traffic so bad that tankers, tractor-trailers, port-authority busses, dumb-fuck landscapers (sorry, one cut me off this morning), PennDot drivers and coal bucket trucks are going to be sitting for hours just causing twice as much pollution because your cheap ass didn’t want to shell out the extra cash for a Hybrid instead?

So please, instead of advertising “save the environment — buy a Smart car” —- promote “Save a Smart Car driver — buy a real fucking car”.

The Three Days of Christmas

 Christmas fell weird this year since it was on a Friday.  My family has traditionally always had “Christmas at Grandma’s” the Saturday between Christmas and New Years – this year that meant the day after Christmas; hence the three days of Christmas.

I have never really been a big fan of Christmas – too stressful and meaningless anymore for my blood.  This year was rather different though, I actually looked forward to it.

About two years ago I lost everything when my house flooded, and that included all of my holiday decorations.  All of my children’s “my first Christmas” ornaments and some of the ornaments from my childhood too – all gone.  Last year’s Christmas was chaotic and emotional as my son Bailey kept repeating, “All I want for Christmas is for Santa to bring my daddy back”.  He was only three and of course didn’t understand – to him, Santa is almighty and powerful and grants the wishes of all good girls and boys.  If all Christmas wishes always came true … my daughter would have four little sisters instead of four brothers!

This year was different – it was more about family and being together, and doing things as a family had my holiday excitement in full gear.  This year, I could feel the true spirit of the holiday season weeks before its arrival.  Even though I shelled out a pretty penny for one of those pre-lit artificial trees last year — this year, in honor of our new house, we opted for a big beautiful live Christmas tree.  We picked out the ornaments together as a family, and then we picked out the most stunning tree on the lot.  I had my eye on that tree from the moment we pulled up.  I will skip the part about how they only took cash and my dumb ass was so excited about the tree that I forgot my debit card in the ATM across the street; okay, I will tell you about it.  I’m blonde, what did you expect?  I was lucky enough though that the bank I left my Debit card at doesn’t destroy them — apparently every other bank in the Pittsburgh area does, and three weeks before Christmas . . . that would have sucked.

We decorated the tree together in spurts — and then the rest of the house as well.  It was the first time in all of my adult years that I have sat back and truly soaked in the moment.  We had hot chocolate with marshmallows and gazed upon our weekend long effort with eyes filled with joy.  We were all happy with the way that everything worked out, and I think that is what made this Christmas so special for me . . . it was at that very moment that I realized that everything had worked out — perfectly.

The gifts were wrapped as they were purchased, which again made this year much different from any other year before.  There was no stay up all night and wrap until you drop session.  Christmas eve I was able to just sit back, put my feet up, and enjoy a Christmas movie snuggled on the sofa with the kids.

Christmas Eve

His son spends Christmas day with his mom, so the morning of Christmas eve we did a mock Christmas with all of the kids so that they could experience their first Christmas together.  It was really nice to see their faces glowing with excitement as they each opened their one special gift.  After breakfast was made and things settled down — he left with his son to do his Christmas Eve ritual with his family.  I started our new Christmas Eve ritual which included a dinner of their favorite meal (pasta wheels — nice and easy!) and then we made pop-corn and settled in for the first viewing of the 24 hour-long marathon of A Christmas Story.  My four-year old laughed his bones off.

Off to bed they went with dreams of expensive gifts dancing in their heads.  He and I snuggled on the sofa before playing Santa and retiring for the night.

Christmas Day

They slept in!  How on earth do my children manage to wake up at 6:30 am every day including weekends and then sleep in on Christmas day?  Not that I am complaining in the least — it was nice to sleep in.

They tore through he wrapping paper anxious to see what treasures were beneath, and for the most part I can comfortably say that they were more than happy with every present that they received.  We ate a yummy breakfast together (thanks babe) and then the kids and I headed off to the grandparents.

I cannot summarize just how happy I am that he stayed home for this.  Nothing makes me more irritated than cramming into my parent’s living room with 8 adults and 9 children because the vicious dog has the roam of the rest of the house and cannot be trusted near the precious angels.  My three-year old was getting crabby beyond belief as we approached the nap time hour and we were all hot and testy and tripping over one another.  I cannot remember a time when I was ever so eager to run out the door with barely a good-bye.

My two older kids were picked up by their dad shortly after, a Christmas day routine that hasn’t changed in nine years.  He and I prepared Christmas dinner with a little help from the lil’ sister La-La on the yummy ham — the little boys napped soundly for hours.  Ahhh, peaceful bliss!

My bestest friend Darby and her husband and daughter came over to exchange Christmas gifts with the kids.  This has been a Christmas day ritual of mine for over 20 years now — only it used to be between just Darby and I.  Us grown-ups retired to laughing at old memories and new funny happenings while we killed the night with a few drinks before saying our good-byes.  Darby and I only get to see each other two or three times during the fall through spring because the driving conditions are insane where she lives, so I always cherish every moment of our visits when we get to have them.

Christmas at Grandma’s

Christmas at Grandma’s house took on a whole new meaning a few years back when the gift exchange was axed (thank God for small miracles) and it was changed to Christmas dinner only.  Grandma (or Gram, or Nunny, or Big Nunny – depending on whose child you are and whether you are a grandchild or a great-grandchild) lives just a few doors down from our favorite watering hole.  Christmas at Grandma’s mean sneaking out and saying you are smoking while you run down to bar to sneak in a shot of cheers with rest of us deviants and our friends from the neighborhood.  Christmas at Grandma’s is always held the Saturday between Christmas and New Years — which this year meant that it happened the day after Christmas.  By this point in time — my liver is aching and I’m sick of ham . . . and I am not alone! Ohhh, but the wide variety of homemade Polish cookies makes it all the worth while.

As I sit here at my new Christmas present and type away about the memories of Christmas, I feel it most important to mention that I am forever grateful that I have the most wonderful family in the world to drive me insane during holidays such as this.  I didn’t go broke over trying to outdo myself — I don’t have the money or the means to do that anyway; I did however have the most memorable three days spent surrounded by the most incredible sense of love and happiness and that is what made these three days of Christmas so special to me.

Stay tuned for the juicy details about the after-hours Christmas special!

I know that it seems like I dropped off the face of the earth; I can assure you that this has not happened . . . yet.  Along with work being quite chaotic lately and things just popping up left and right — I have taken some time away to dedicate to my new beginning.  Here is my story:

Sunday Morning

I can remember watching my parents interact with one another when I was a child — when nobody was looking, you could just tell by looking at them that they were happy and in love with one another.  They didn’t just love one another, they were madly head-over-heels in love with one another.  They would wrestle and tease each other, crazy nutcases would chase each other around the house and shit.  It almost always ended up with my mom curled up in my dad’s lap and the two of them kissing.  When my dad’s health turned South, you could see the pain in both of their eyes as they still look at each other with the eyes I remember them looking at each other with as a child.

You know that you can tell that you are in love, when the person you love looks back at you with the eyes that look at them with.  You can see a smile in the eyes of a person that is in love, you can tell by the glow in their face and the hop in their step; they are happy, truly happy.  I used to say that you could tell which couples would get divorced and which ones would stay together by the way they looked at each other on their wedding day; their wedding pictures hung on walls told the story of their futures, just most people don’t look close enough to see.

It was a Sunday morning and I didn’t want to sleep in, I had a lot to do that day.  He had been in contact with me for the past few days, sending me text messages; he sent me one that morning as well “I really do miss you”.  Those who know me well know that I never allow for a statement to be thrown out there without an explanation, so I dug into it.  The conversation continued and went in a direction completely different from what I was expecting.  I wanted to jump through the phone, tears streaming down my face screaming “I miss you too, if you only knew” — but I didn’t trust putting myself out there like that just to have my heart squished again.  After a while, I threw it out — the ultimate question, the question that I have never before asked another person in my life “are you asking for a second chance”?  The answer startled me.

The New Beginning

I am as nervous as a teenager peeing on a stick a few weeks after prom as I am waiting for him to pick me up.  This is insane, why am I so nervous?  The anxiety is just building up inside of me as I sit in my living room waiting; we are going out to dinner.  When he finally arrives, my stomach is full of butterflies — I jumped into his truck and looked over and smiled at him smiling back at me.  We didn’t even get a full block away when he pulled over and kissed me, a kiss that lasted forever and sent my heart doing flips; and when it was over — he was looking back at me the way that I was looking him.  You could see the smile in his eyes and I knew in a heartbeat that I had made the right choice.  Staring across the table from him at dinner I had noticed that he was just staring back at me; with the same eyes, and the same smile, filling my soul with the feeling that I had longed for this entire time — happiness.

I cannot begin to put into words how wonderful things have been and how truly happy I feel, inside and out.  I knew that there would be skeptics, just like I knew that I would have number one supporters as well.  I got all of the advice that I expected to get from all of the people I expected to hear it from.  I listened to all of the “I told you so’s” and I listened to all of the people say “don’t say that I didn’t warn you”.  It really doesn’t matter, because they only thing that mattered was what I wanted, and my own happiness.  I know that some people think of it as a weakness to give someone a second chance; I don’t.  I think of it as a strength; it takes a remarkably strong person to forgive someone who has wronged them in life.

The bottom line is that I wake up every morning happy, and I go to sleep every night happy and everything in the middle has just been rainbows and lollipops.

I don’t look at this as a Happy Ending, or living my life “Happily Ever After” — I think of it as a new beginning.  Fate brought us together and destiny is nothing to be messed with.  What the future has in store from this point forward, I really do not know.  What I do know is that I plan on dancing like nobody’s watching; singing like nobody’s listening, living life like it is heaven on earth . . . and loving like I have never been hurt before.

I love you babe, with all of my heart.

*A special note of love and thanks to Dunks, Scott, my sisters, and friends that wish not to be mentioned.

When people think of Thanksgiving, they think about all of the great food that they get to endulge themselves with, and the awesome day full of football, or hanging out with their family and friends; I associate Thanksgiving as the time of year that you sit back and count your many blessings.

I have a lot to be thankful for this year, as I did last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. I am most thankful for my family and my friends, without them I would be nothing.  I am thankful that I was blessed with four beautiful healthy children when there are others that would give their life just to have one.  I am thankful that God chose me to be the mother of these unique children as they have each touched my life and changed me as a person, in their own little ways.  I am thankful that I have a job, when others are struggling to keep their heads above water waiting for work to arrive.  I am thankful that I have my family within a moments reach, when there are others that only see theirs on holidays such as this.  I am thankful that I have my health, as there are others my age that are starting to experience health problems.  I am thankful that I have a home, even when it’s a mess — I have a home that is lived in and loved by the people that are inside it; there are others that dream of having a room to call their own, and I have an entire home. 

The thing I love most about Thanksgiving is that is no such thing as it being to materialistic and it really gives you the opportunity, if you take it, to reflect on all of the things that you have to be thankful for.  We take for granted all of the things that we have in our lives on an everyday basis, but on Thanksgiving, we have an entire day to think back on all that we have done, all the moments that we have shared, all of the accomplishments that we have succeeded at, all of the failures that turned out for the best — and we remember to be thankful.

We grew up a little bit differently than the world in which our children are.  Things were at a slower pace back in those days.  Reading Scott’s comment made me remember being about four years old and my dad sitting me on his lap in the front seat of his blue Chevelle so I could take my turn to “drive” the car.  He of course also was smoking with the windows up.  I can remember the first FM radio that he installed in the car, just under the 8-track tape deck.

We watched television shows like “Ripley’s Believe it Or Not” and “The Brady Bunch”, “The Facts of Life”, “Different Strokes”, “Growing Pains” and “One Day At A Time”.  Bugs Bunny didn’t have a high powered laser beam . . . he used a double barreled shot-gun that he stole fair and square from Elmer.  Dora didn’t teach us Spanish, Speedy Gonzales did.  The Jetsons never attacked anyone with their telekinesis powers and the Flintstone fought like our own parents did.

Cartoons were for Saturday or Sunday mornings, television shows were an after dinner treat.  Other than that, you played outside.  We rode our bikes everywhere — or roller skated on the sidewalks and streets.  You went to Shaler Skateland or the Chesarena on a Friday night.  Guyasuta was like a second backyard. You knew how to get to falls and you didn’t mind walking through the creek to get there. We hung out “on the hill” during high-school football games and drank beer up at Stateland.

Our parents worried about us being teenaged parents or getting busted for underage drinking.  They didn’t have to worry about drive by shooting or sexual predators on the internet.  When you had a beef with someone, you called them out on it — maybe grabbed them up by the back of their head and beat the piss out of them . . .you didn’t take a knife or a gun to school with you.  A good prank consisted of taking your dissected frog and sticking it down into someone’s backpack or locker — we didn’t make up fictitious people on the internet that caused that person to kill themselves eventually.

We trick-or-treated door to  door, without our parents — without people driving us block to block.  We smoked weed up at round-top and the biggest worries were one of the neighbors calling the police.   We didn’t buy packets of heroin from people at school.

I know that I have stated on many of occasions that you cannot go back — but when it comes to our morals, the values that we want to instill into our children and our communities, we need to go back.  One day at a time, one family at a time . . . we need to bring back what we once had.  Technology has led us to give up on the people who we once to used to be.

My mom always had her “phone book” on the top of the cabinet by the phone.  It included all of the phone numbers and addresses for all of their friends, neighbors and family members; it also included all of the phone numbers and addresses for all of their kid’s friends as well.  That phone book has been since replaced by a cell phone contact list and using the internet to “look people up”.  We need to go back, for the sake of our children; for the sake of our future sanity.

Technology was supposed to make the world a better place, however it lessened the people who live in it.  Children killing children, girls viciously attacking each other’s emotional well-being, people forgetting about who they are and where they came from.

We need to take our children to the park without the cell phone in hand.  We need to pile up the leaves and jump in them and make snow angels uninterrupted.  We need to remember that cartoons are for Saturday and Sunday mornings and were never intended to be pre-school teachers or built in babysitters.  We need to go back . . . one day at a time.

As much as what I hate explaining to people about how I landed myself a single mother of four, there are a few people who know all the dirty details.  Only one of my co-workers knows about the “tell all”, and only because I knew her before I became a co-worker.

Most people just see me as the 32-year-old single mother of four; twice failed in life.  That’s how one of my bosses at work viewed it when she kiddingly (or at least I think she was) spouted out to me “after two . . . you know it’s you”.

These words have seemed to haunt me lately.  I am the type of person that would give you the shirt off my back if you needed it.  I would go without, so that other could have.  I would go to the ends of the earth for those that I love and care for.  Of course I am not flawless by any definition of the word.  I am open (obviously) and honest (ditto), intelligent, funny, witty, and charming.  And while I’m tooting my own horn — I’ve never had any “complaints”, if you know what I mean.  So why would it be me?  How could it possibly be me?

Then I realized that it is me.  I’m too nice, too naive, too giving, too caring, too forgiving.  Now, don’t get me wrong, cross me and the “mean Mimi” comes out and once I unleash the bitch in me . . . well let’s just say it’s not pretty for anyone involved.  I may not be Betty Crocker, Martha Stewart, Stepford Wife or Mother Theresa, but I take care of my special one to the best of my ability.  They have never felt ignored or unloved.  There has never been an uncomfortable silence (except for maybe a few times when the infamous question was asked “was it good for you” — LOL), because I’m more than comfortable with expressing myself with words.

So I will take partial blame for the fact that it might have been me.  However, what I have found is that I seem to attract “single (never married)” men in their 30’s.  What is so wrong about that, right?  Let me tell you what is wrong about that — the fact that they are single, never been married before and are in their 30’s means that they have major commitment issues; as in they cannot commit.  Now, of course the majority of these men have an ex-girlfriend or an ex-fiance of say, five years or more, but that only reinforces my statement in that they cannot committ.  If you don’t know after two or three years whether or not you want to spend your life with someone, then you may “think” you are in a committed relationship, but in reality, you are “in a relationship” with someone because that someone fills the space in the bed beside you until you can bide your time in replacing them.  You are waiting for someone better to come along, and most likely that someone better did come along . . . for her, not you.  So now you are left, single (never married) and in your 30’s and your only options are young girls in their 20’s that might let you take them out and spend all of your money on them, but they really don’t appreciate the extra ten pounds you’ve put on, the receding hairline, the protruding ear-hair, the grey chest hairs or the fact that you prefer to watch the 10 o’clock news so you can go to sleep earlier.  You will do for now, but the second Mr. 25 rolls around, you are history.  Your only other option is the divorced single-mom in her 30’s and she’s not in the mood to play games.

Now certainly, there are a few exceptions to this rule; just as I am an exception to the “single-mother” rule.  I am not looking for a sugar daddy to come in and take care of me and pay my bills or take over as the parent to my children.  I work full-time, I pay my own bills, I do well for myself.  I will say that I do miss having someone to do the grocery shopping for me, because I hate grocery shopping (he loved it) and avoid it like an STD.

So, the way I see it — I have about four more years to wait until all of the once happily married normal men re-surface as “36, Divorced w/children”.  And yes, those “single (never married)” men will all still be there . . . only older.

So maybe the saying of “after two, you know it’s you” should be changed to “after 30, you have issues”.

On my car ride in to work this morning Joni Mitchell was blaring on Bob “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone?”  This is my topic for today.

When I was much younger, there was a hillside of trees up on Front Street in Sharpsburg.  We used to call it “the woods”.  If you went into the woods and all the way to the top, you were at route 28.  We loved to go and hang out up there.  We spent many days building club-houses and tree-houses and forts and trying to smoke those long banana looking things from the local trees.  We all just hung out.  It was a blast.  I can remember there being a really steep path that went right up through the middle of the woods.  Sometimes the guys in the neighborhood would ride their bikes up into the woods and then take off down that path, which if  you are a local kid reading this, you would know that meant you were headed straight for a guide rail that overlooked the big empty lot up above the dead-end of S. Canal Street.  I can remember the day when one of our friends went flying down that trail on his bike and was hit by an oncoming car, there was blood everywhere.  He’s deaf in one ear because of that incident.  We didn’t wear helmets back then; shoot, most people didn’t wear seatbelts back then!!

One day, we were told we could no longer play in the woods.  They tore the woods down and built townhouses in their place.  They stole our place to play.  They stole our paradise and put up 3 bedroom one car garages in its place.  The woods are gone forever, but the memories of playing in them are as vivid today as they were when they first tore them down.

The lesson in this story is exactly as it is entitled — “don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone”.  You cannot go back.  You cannot put the torn down trees back into a space of land once it has been cleared.  You can never rebuild that club-house the exact way that it used to be.  You can never attempt to see if the grass is greener on the other side and then decide that since it was not, you want your grass back — because your old grass has grown and isn’t interested in having you walk all over it again.  Your old grass now belongs to someone else that will appreciate it more than what you did.  And since your old grass is smarter than you as well, she told your new grass all about how you tried to come back to your old grass.  You cheated on your newer, not greener grass — and now that patch of grass knows all about it.  Have fun walking on pavement buddy.

I, however, am ‘walkin on sunshine’ and please let me tell you — it does feel good!!

Take just a moment to experience my happiness . . . jam with me for a few to Bob.

How fitting was it when I turned on the radio and Bob Seger was blasting away at Night Moves?  That song brings back so many great memories for me.  We stole away every chance that we could — I would say I was playing cards at a friend’s house, he would say that he was going skiing with a close friend, and off we went!  One of my most favorite pictures that I have is one of me in a hammock away on vacation together.  It’s a memory that I keep close to my heart — not because it was the first time I had ever given head before — but because it was the first time that I stayed up all night snuggled in a blanket with the one that I loved … just to watch the sun rise.  If you consider the lyrics the song is quite moving . . .

“I woke last night to the sound of thunder
How far off I sat and wondered
Started humming a song from 1962
Ain’t it funny how the night moves
When you just don’t seem to have as much to lose
Strange how the night moves
With autumn closing in”

I cannot begin to explain how many times I have sat up and wondered: wondered about the choices I have made in my life, questioning some of my split decisions — words that cannot be taken back.  And autumn is always closing in.  I am getting older, and wiser.

When I pulled into the parking lot at work this morning, Jason Mraz was on the radio singing “I’m Yours”.  It was on the radio the night we had our first date.  How weird is it that the song is playing as often as it did an entire year after it came out?  But then you consider it’s lyrics …

“Well you’ve done done me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you’re so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks
and now I’m trying to get back
Before the cool done run out
I’ll be giving it my bestest
Nothing’s going to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon its again my turn to win some or learn some

I won’t hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I’m yours

Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you’re free
Look into your heart and you’ll find love love love
Listen to the music of the moment people dance and sing, were just one big family
It’s our God-forsaken right to be loved love loved love love

So I won’t hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait I’m sure
There’s no need to complicate
Our time is short
This is our fate, I’m yours”

That’s some pretty heavy shit.  To say “wait a second — you may have quit on me, but I’m not giving up ’cause we were destined to be together, and just like Bob Seger said, autumn is closing in”

I slept like a baby last night after the conversation that I had with my best friend Darby.  Sometimes I swear she knows me better than I know myself.  It was easy for her to say “whoa — you will regret it”.  She was right.  Why should I settle for any kind of ultimatum? 

I am a shot and a beer kind of gal.  I’ve danced on bars, I’ve sang “Crazy Bitch” at the top of my lungs completely out of pitch.  I sing out loud at my desk at work to music that is only in my head — I twirl in an open field when the breeze tickles the tops of the grass and softly blows the hair away from my face.  I look up to the sky and smile at the sunlight.  I skip through parkings lots and down the hallways at my offices.  On Fridays, casual days — I do cartwheels for my coworkers.  I will bust out “the Carlton” when the mood gets thick with uncomfort.  I snore when I’ve had too much to drink, and apparently I fart in my sleep when I eat something not too great for me.  If I could be in a sitcom — it would air on the USA Network . . . because I am a “character”.

I can pull off the very most elegant evening gown dripping with diamonds and a three hour up-do.  I have introduced internationally renowned people at seminars and black-tie affairs.  But I’ve never given up who I was to do these things.  You see, the shaw may be covering the tattoo on my back; but I would happily drop it slightly behind the podium so the Chief of the division could have slight heart-failure.  And while these penguins were conversing about how great they all were with one another and their prestigious wives . . . I was out back drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette with the catering service staff.

I don’t know why for a moment I forgot who I was or what I stood for — but I did.  I am “an American girl“.  I will shoot for the stars and dream another dream and live my life like it is heaven on earth — and I will listen to classic rock while jamming out in my car and playing the air drums in traffic dammit.  And although sometimes my heart causes me tears “In my mind I’m goin’ to Carolina“.  So when I forget about the character that I am, sometimes it helps to just sit back and remember myself sitting there wrapped in a blanket watching the sunrise.  Or sitting shot-gun in a truck listening to the radio making small-talk as we pull up at the destination for our first date.  Or “leaving on a midnight train to Georgia” that was really a blue Chevy S-10 Blazer doing a complete u-turn in the middle of I-79 because we passed the exit.  But most of all — it IS OKAY for me to every once in while sit back and think “wish you were here”.

Balls to the wall my friends — if you see something you want, go for it.  The worst that can happen is that you end up with what you started with . . . nothing.

***Rated R***

He curls up behind me, gently lifting my hair up and away.  I feel his lips so soft against my neck that it tickles my baby hairs right before he clenches his hand in my hair. He grasps a handful of it as he pulls my head back and aggressively bites my neck just below my ear where he knows that I like it.  His mouth moves across the back of shoulder and then around the front to my collarbone.  His mouth gently reaches mine with a slow drawn kiss that makes my eyes water.  He brushes my cheekbone with his thumb, his hands still in my hair slowly start to wander the grooves of my body — but his mouth never leaves mine.

His kiss extends back down to my neck, then my collar-bone, softly between my breasts, sweeping across my belly and my pelvic groove.  My heart is racing, my one hand entwined in his hair – the other with a slow soft tickle down the nape of his neck and onto his back.

The anticipation is killing me, my heart is pounding out of my chest, I am panting, I am ready — FUCK, I am dreaming.  HOLY SHIT.  I was in the middle of the best foreplay in my life and it wasn’t even real.  Damn I need laid.

Have you ever watched something on TV that made you think someone was reading your mind or wrote that particular episode just for you?  I mean, these things are written months ahead of time; how did they know?

I can’t remember when the last time was that I actually sat down and watched TV.  A good friend recently told me that “it’s okay to take a day and do absolutely nothing, to just watch TV and play with your kids, to remember what it is like to be a human being and not a super-mom for just one day”.  I did that tonight.  I took just one night for myself.  I didn’t cook, didn’t clean, ate on paper plates, helped my older ones with their homework, colored with the little ones, played hide-n-go seek and was comfortably lounging in enough time to watch Jeopardy. 

It is what it is — I am who I am.  I am a passionate person.  I get offended, I cry while watching movies, I feel moved when I read a good book, I remember things as if I were still there, I get hurt, I get healed.

Many of you know me, but you do not really know me well enough to know me.  I am the way that I am, because I am who I am.  I am the type of person who really puts herself out there, and when you take the risks that I take, you have the wonderful opportunity to experience life in every aspect, but you also have the pain that you must endure when these risks don’t pan out.

Mark Twain once wrote: “Dance like nobody’s watching; love like you’ve never been hurt.  Sing like nobody’s listening; live like it’s heaven on earth.”

My best friend Val once wrote “you have to love like you’ve never been hurt”; I think that Val already knows that I have no issues with dancing like nobody is watching, or singing like nobody is listening (sorry guys!), and I do truly believe that I live my life like it is heaven on earth.  I take the time to appreciate everything in this world that God has gifted to me — but to love like you have never been hurt takes a lot of courage.  I have done it many of times, and the amount of times that I have been hurt has superceded my level of courage.

My dearest Darby, my Dunks, my courage and strength, my confidence and pride; my best friend.  What you have taught me is that it takes balls of steel to seek out revenge, but taking the higher road takes integrity.  You are my level — the one that has always kept me straight. Even when reverting back to life like it was in 1997 seemed like a good idea, you reminded me that life in 2009 is far more adventurous and rewarding.

To my Darling: It is what it is.  Take me as I am; broken and bleeding and in need of repair — but repairable.  I understand that you are not one for risky adventures, but I promise you that if go out on that limb, if you stand on that ledge, I will be right there beside you; dancing like nobody’s watching; singing like nobody’s listening, living life like it is heaven on earth . . . and loving like I have never been hurt before.