Love and Tenderness

The other day I was waiting in the line at the grocery....blindly perusing the latest headlines of the tabloids.
I noticed an older couple in line ahead of me.
He was quite dashing and had a white beard... a beautiful 'old world' profile. His kind eyes were gazing upon his wife with such love and admiration---it took my breath away.
She was a petite, 'well put together' beauty. You could tell when she was younger, she must have been a 'knock out'.They both easily had to be in their late 80's.
I know I was staring...and I tried not to...but they were so beautiful together...and SO in love! He kept leaning in to talk to her---he was very tall. She would gently touch his hand as they spoke, looking up at him. He tenderly put his arm around her with such pride...and protection.
She was his...and he was hers.
I wondered how long they had been married. I wanted to know their story. They both had foreign accents...maybe French? I knew they had made it through the journey of life together...and were there, now, as each other's soul mates. There was such mutual tenderness and respect.
When I left the store, I noticed them in the parking lot. She was gently putting the groceries in the back seat...he was holding the door open for her...his hand on her back.
He then shuffled around to the other side of the car, opened her door for her, held her hand, and helped her in to her seat...How many times had he done this for his beautiful girl?
He walked around, and got in to his seat. As he started the car, I saw her lean over and kiss him.

'Baby you can drive my car...'

Today was a big day!
I finally got a new (to me) car...a 2007 Pacifica...Navy blue---(GO NAVY!)
It was weird and refreshing all at once to drive a car that actually had a working gas gauge, a driver's seat that did not lean to the left...and did not smell like foul milk. I have a 'grown up' car.
My 'new' car is 'mac daddy'...to me at least. Granted, my mother owns it, and bought it...so, once again,at 43, I am driving 'my mom's car'...visions of being 16 again dance in my head. But, whatever...it will get me from point A to B in leather wrapped style.(I did not want leather seats because they make me hot, and my legs stick to the leather when wearing shorts...plus when you move around it sounds like you are passing gas...but I will deal with that!)
I miss my 10 year old Blazer though.
I have always had a love affair with my cars. My first car was a VW Golf...ah, college in a city, parallel parking expertise, and all the fun that college life entailed...
When my first daughter was born, I traded that one in for a smokin hot Teal Ford Taurus wagon...then, when my son was 18 months old I got my Blazer.
I loved my truck! Living in the mountains, on the top of a very steep hill, my 'Blaze' could handle ice, snow and all the slippery leaves. I could throw mulch in the back, transport a muddy slobbery dog, and still feel good about it. Men admired my 4 wheelin' style, and I NEVER got stuck in the mud...plus, being a tomboy, I always wanted a 'TRUUUCCKKK' anyway.
My X father in law---one of the kindest, most wonderful men ever to grace this earth---bought it flat out for me. He wanted me to be safe---I was transporting precious cargo! (me,(he adored me) and his 2 grandchildren!)
In my divorce settlement with his son, I had to chunk out $11,000 to my X for it. My father in law had passed on by then, and I KNOW he was twirling in his grave knowing I had had to repay his gift to me...
Anyway...my Blaze and I went through a lot together in 10 years.
Moving to a new city,picking up and dropping off my kids, being 'hit and runned'...but I always took comfort in it's safety and durability. It was indestructible. Liberal bumper stickers, surfing stickers, Navy stickers, Moms Rule! stickers...Save the Bay...you name it. It was my rolling testimonial that we all needed to get it together!
This summer I had a radiator leak, and the engine flat out cooked on me.(I hate to think that the really deep puddles I drove through to create a huge wake may have contributed to the leak...but it was fun!)
I was driving home from the beach,with 2 of 3 kids, and it just started steaming...I pulled off and put more coolant in. A homeless guy helped me out, and I gave him $20 for his help. My son was like, 'MOM! I can't believe you just GAVE him $20!'...hey, he was down on his luck, a really nice person...and perhaps an angel in disguise. I hope I set an example for my son...he still talks about 'the homeless guy you gave $20 to'...
We got a little further down the road, and the engine got hot again...and just went. I was on I-95,it was getting dark, and was NOT going to pull off there! (They would have found our dead bodies in Missouri in a shallow grave...95 is notoriously dangerous, and with 2 gorgeous blonde children, I was NOT going to advertise to the next 'Bundy' that we needed aide!)
So we rolled in to the 'Oasis' Travel Park.(Yes, I sang, 'midnight at the oasis...send you camels to bed...')
We did not make it all the way in...so, my son, who is 11, had to sit in the drivers seat and steer while I pushed my truck. I was putting all I had in to it, and the car was NOT budging...my son had forgotten to take his foot off the brake. (Thanks, dude!) Two men came and helped me push it...checked the engine...and went,'ahhh'...(not a good 'ahhh'.)
'Yer injun eeus cooked, ma'am.'
Huh?
'It ain't gonna do nuttin for ya, eeits deeuhd.'
Oh, SWELL! I was about an hour from home, in the dark, 2 kids...S#^%!T!
Called AAA...and they sent a tow...I was relieved when the guy got there...and really enjoyed 'Derby's' Satan tattoo on his neck. He was cool though...and we waited for my H to get there to pick us up. I think my kids ate 4 donuts each---but at that time, I did not care...'here! look at the sparkly object! No we are not in peril, do not freak out...we are fine!'
Nothing says togetherness like being a one car family. It is like being 16 again---'hey, can I take the car? I gotta go to bank and the store...'

3 months later I have a new handsome Navy man in my life...my 'mac daddy'...
I wonder what will transpire over this next 10 year relationship?
A Navy man never let's his girl down...right?

(Now, I did have a '59 Edsel...Ed. He was a knock out...but that is another story...)

Living with 'The Dead'

The summer of '87, I moved off campus to a house on Biltmore street.
A dingy little brown 1940's style bungalow, behind the Tri-Pigs...oops, I mean Tri-Sigs...sorority house. (Sorry, but they were little rich girls with really bad attitudes.)
My house mates included:
Sue, (a psych major...who was a huge fan of the Grateful Dead...Mother Earth type of girl,drove the VW van and seriously looked like a younger, prettier, Janice Joplin.)Marty,(an art history major/violin player, who looked very straight-laced, but was a lot of fun.Marty used the enclosed back porch for her 'room' as a decoy so her parents would not find out she was sleeping with her boyfriend... she was NOT a 'Dead Head'.)
Annie,(an art major,willowy and pale, big huge Dead Head.)
...and then there was me,(advertising design major, wholesome, innocent,extremely studious, and solely dedicated to summer school...(hahha)...and NOT a Dead Head.)
Don't get me wrong...I was a hippy chick with the flowy skirts and the wild long hair...and I wore patchouli...but I was more of an artsy-gypsy-hippy...and I never ever did the drugs. (THAT I am serious about.) I never dropped acid, or any of that stuff, because I was so afraid someday one of my kids would have a ear growing in the wrong place...or something horrid! Never did 'ecstasy' because it apparently messes with your spinal fluid---I was a dancer...hello! I needed my back to function properly.(I did make some yummy cheap sangria though.)
I also disliked the Dead. *gasp*! I liked the percussion jams because they were fun to dance to...but Jerry's voice was like nails on a chalk board to me. (sorry to degrade St. Jerry...)
All 4 of us were there for Summer School, so people were in and out of our front door continuously...and then, Marty would be practicing her violin, Annie would be weaving anklets in her spare time, and Earth Mother Sue...well, I'm not really sure what she was working on back in her room.
I was taking a painting studio class and a dance class...so, I was in my studio a lot....I never knew what or who I would find at our little house.
My boyfriend at the time, was in a band...he played rhythm guitar and was soooo cool.The rest of the band consisted of a drummer, a smelly german singer, and a guy named Tracy, who played bass.
Tracy was hilarious. He was super smart, and extremely talented---but not motivated in the least. He was working the summer at Burger King, and would come over to the house to practice with the band in his BK outfit. He was the first person I ever saw smoke a cigarette without holding it, and play guitar at the same time...I was fascinated by this.
Tracy and another Dead Head girl, who lived across the street, drove totally buck naked back from DC to Greenville...(I KNOW!)...and could not stop laughing about the truckers reactions.
I had a pet miniature rabbit at the time, named Winfield, and he LOVED Tracy...he would sit on Tracy's shoulder and let him walk around. (Winfield was killed by someone who fed him drugs when I was away that summer in San Francisco. Nice.)
One morning after a long evening downtown with the boyfriends band, I woke up and almost tripped over...Jesus? It was the Lord, laid out on my floor...and look, he brought apostles...and fair maidens! (Sue had invited some people back to the house.)
They ate our food and left around 3pm.
We never knew who--or what--Sue would bring back from her latest Dead Show. Mainly fellow Dead followers who apparently had not showered in years...hence they would decide they would shower off the lovely sludge in our one shower...and again, would eat all of our food and leave.
(I think this may have been when my affair with Clorox started.)
We had Indecision stay at our house...but those guys were cool. Shep, the lead singer from Awareness Art Ensemble was a staple in the menagerie. He was the first rhasta dude I ever got to know. He was really really great---and he smelled like incense...I was fascinated by his dreadlocks.
My boyfriend's family lived in Richmond, so, when the food supply got low, we'd go to his parent's house for the weekend. His mom was an angel and sent us back with food, and canned goods.(I only had $75/month to eat off of, so this was a blessing!)
Our neighbors across the street raided our pantry as well. This guy named Shane would always eat my cereal, and drink all the milk. I finally had to have an 'intervention'...and he stopped.(Which led to his frog gigging, and the BBQ-ed frog legs he would cook on the sidewalk.)
Annie's cat had kittens that summer, and my boyfriend adopted a dog named 'Ripple'...we had fish...and a rabbit---(until he was murdered.)
All in all it was a pretty good summer. It definitely opened my eyes to some things---good, and bad.

That Fall, my mom made me move back to the dorm.

'Before I Get Hit By A Bus...'

I was thinking last night about how unpredictable life can be.
You just never know what will happen in the next moment...will I be hit by a bus? Shot with a poison dart? Slip on the floor and konk my head on the counter? Who knows?
Then I started thinking, and remembering things that I want to make sure I tell my kids. Stuff about life, dating,marriage, babies, memories I have of them that still make me smile---and laugh.
So, I am starting this series of Notes for my kids.
I don't want to forget anything about them...and I want them to have references for later---when my alzheimer's kicks into full gear...
Here I go:
You 3 are the best things that have ever---ever---happened to me. Being your mom has been the coolest experience ever! I hope I make you as proud as I am of you. You 3 have beautiful souls, hearts and minds...use them for the greater good.
I will always be here for you no matter what...don't ever be afraid to ask me anything...your momma has done a LOT of living...and seen a LOT of things. Good stuff, and really bad stuff. You cannot shock me---trust that!
You 2 girls know how I feel about boys.
I pray you do not make the same mistakes I have made.
When someone shows you who they are---believe them the first time.
Sometimes being too forgiving can be a problem.
Listen to your gut...it will never fail you.
If a guy ever hits you, or knocks you to the floor---LEAVE.
(Then,call me and come over for a chat...and a drink.)
Words can be just as abusive...and hurt just as bad---LEAVE.
You will 'fall' in love many many times...and your heart will break just as many times. You will live. There will ALWAYS be that one that got away...but trust me, there are so many people in this world who will fit in to yours---right around the corner!
Searching for 'Mr. Right', instead of 'Mr. Right Now', is worth the wait.
There is no such thing as 'one true love'...(unless you become nuns.)
When you finally DO find the 'one'...have him come over. I have a few questions for him...after I finish his back ground check. He will need to bring proof of citizenship, current medical records, and the results from his AIDS and genetic testings. This is required. (Don't laugh!)
People are never really who they say they are...and I don't want you to find this out 6 months in to your marriage.(Been there, done that.)
...and for YOU, my son...in regards to girls.
Treat all females with respect.
Be kind.
Never---NEVER---lie to a woman...she will find out, and 'the wrath of the woman scorned' is not something you want to experience.
I am raising you to be a southern gentleman.You will have lovely table manners...you will NEVER chew with your mouth open.
You will be able to cook, and do your own laundry.(chicks totally dig that.)
I know it sounds 'icky' right now, but girls like flowers, kisses and good long hugs.
Of course, all the girls you go out with will, as well, go through rigorous interviews and background checks.
I'm not letting you go to just anyone. She must be as golden as you are to me!
For all 3 of my kids: You deserve the BEST.
The best life, loves, meaningful work---and I mean that.
If you want to become a female jet fighter pilot? I support you.
If you want to join the circus? Great! (I am coming to.)
You can be whatever will make you truly truly happy...
(I will put my foot down on the knife juggling or becoming a stripper...however, they do make good money in the high class joints. I may reconsider. NO!)

I will let you chew on this Note for a while...as I ponder what else I can tell you.
(and don't forget, I have your naked baby pictures...and I am not afraid to use them! hahaha!)
I love you!
Momma~ xoxoxox

9/25/93: A Comedy of Errors...

This coming September 25th, I would have been married to my X for 16 years...
(Granted the story of WHY he became my X is a whole 'nother post...)

Every wedding has it's kinks and moments...but here are mine from that long forgotten cloudy day in September.

I arrived in VB on Wednesday before the wedding. I had my awesome gal pal W come in and run interference with the mother/mother-in-law. She was amazing---and kept me sane.
My mom had not seen my dress until then...she 'liked' it.
(I had done all of my wedding shopping by myself since I lived 5 hours away at the time. I even had my wedding portraits done alone...had them re-done...doing my own hair and make-up---which is posted))
My grandmother, who had passed away that July, had bought my dress for me. It was the most expensive dress I will ever wear for only 8 total hours...and will never wear again. I loved it though! Very 'old school', off the shoulder...aka: Jackie O-ish.
I made my own veil and 'head piece', and had decorated my own shoes...thrifty? Yes!
Thursday night before the wedding, my best childhood friend, V, had a dinner at her parents house for me...kind of a delayed bachelorette party since all my friends were from out of town. As everyone arrived, I thought,'Man, my girls can dress!'...Turns out the order of the evening was to come dressed as ME...V had gone to China Town in NYC and bought this hideous curly wig, that smelled. My other friends had every stage of my 'fashionista' self on display from my DeadHead days to the college days when I only wore black...and ALL had on frosty purple lipstick---which had been my signature color. It was cool, and embarrassing, all at the same time.
After the dinner, we went to my friend A's house on 61st street and met up with the 'boys'...ironically, an inmate had escaped in to the state forest and a helicopter, with spotlights, kept us company most of the night.
That's when my stomach started going nuts...uh-oh.
The next day was the rehearsal dinner and Bridesmaids luncheon.
The luncheon was lovely---given by my mom's good friends...but I was sick as a dog!
In all the photos I am as pale as my creamy silk jacket...and my bridesmaids all have that 'oh shit' fake smile on.
We all went and got our hair done at a salon...I had mine straightened and put in a chignon...very French...very Moi...and I had that 'killer' red dress...oh man. My red dress rocked the world...(too bad I will never wear it again...I was so sick, I lost at least 5 lbs. in two days!I was 'skinny skinny'!)
The wedding rehearsal was kind of weird. All of my X's groomsmen (all 12) were drunk. They had played golf all day...yeah.
I had planned to walk down the aisle alone because my dad (who was killed in Vietnam in '68) could not be there. Well. That backfired. I started sobbing about half way down the aisle and had to leave the building.(I have ALWAYS missed him---but at that point...I REALLY missed him.)
So, my X and I decided he would walk me down the aisle...we went through the 'dress rehearsal' and headed to the PA Country Club for the rehearsal dinner.
I had stopped hurling by then, and the vodka soda(with lots of limes) kept me going...mainly the coldness of it and the smell of the limes.
After an emotional dinner, with people telling stories about my dad---great, I started crying again---there was an 'after party' around the pool for 'the young people' (This is a southern thing so the grown ups can either go home and go to bed, or break out the good scotch without having to share.)
During the party, I called the Hotel I was staying in with my Maid of Honor that night...and they said my room 'had been cancelled'...WHAT!??!!!
My MOH and I left directly and went to the Hotel. I told them, 'Hello. I am the BRIDE...and about 65 people are staying at this Hotel...you HAVE to find me a room!'
Turns out they had a 'suite that just became available---and it has a hot tub!'----good for them because I would have ripped their eyes out if nothing was available...or slept in the lobby.
I started getting ill again, and my MOH put me in the suite and left....she re-emerged at 3am.(She was dating this totally hot guy at the time, and I totally understood that they needed to, um, spend some time together.)
Meanwhile, I had been hurling...and...oh yeah....popping Imodium now! *gasp*
(I KNOW!)
I stayed in the hot tub until 6 a.m. while my MOH slept...(wench).
We called a pharmacy and got the lovely sugary red anti-nausea liquid stuff for me so I could make it to the 'brunch' the day of the wedding.
It was a lovely brunch---don't get me wrong...but again, if you look at the pictures, all my gals have that 'oh shit!' fake smile...and I look like I am about to faint! Yes, I was...and yes, I was that ill!
3pm, September 25, 1993...game time...
My mom's friend B was our 'wedding nazi'---meaning she was the wedding coordinator...everything was timed to the minute.
My X's groomsmen were hurling in the woods outside the church I found out later...they stayed up later than we did enjoying contraband scotch.
I was hurling in the girls room...and trying to get dressed. I don't think I have ever appreciated ice cubes so much as I did then. I started popping cheez-itz, altoids, and chewing ice...so lovely!
The Bridesmaids bouquets arrived all rich and colorful like an English cutting garden...and there was this freakin MOUND of white roses, freesia, ivy thing---a la Princess Dianna---that I had specifically said I did NOT want for my bouquet. Well, guess what. I was out-voted...and I stared at this 40 lb. freaking Rose Parade float I was supposed to carry...really?
It was time to get dressed.
I hoisted the gown on...of course after one last bathroom pit stop...popping more Imodium, and drinking anti nausea medication like it was a martini.It was weird getting dressed in front of a 'crowd'---I am not an exhibitionist...and I had to leave the room.
My girls were awesome...and they looked great---as good as they could look in those lovely off the shoulder dark purple dresses...and I envied their flowers.
The photog showed up...took some pics, and we were off to the Church.
I stood outside the Vestibule...where I had been Confirmed...trying to soak it all in...kinda in 'la-la land'...I could still run, I thought...but mom had told me the 'reception is paid for...NO backing out now...'
(oh shit.) I felt like I was going to hurl again and hoisted my Rose Float up to my nose...smelled a gardenia...and calmed down.
(WAIT!...my head screamed... I don't think I want to do this!)
Then all eyes were on me in the back of the Church...my X took my arm...the music started...(I was glad I had brought a lovely brown paper towel from the girls room...my biggest fear was hurling at the altar!)
Before I knew it, I was at the altar with the minister and all these smiling faces...and I was trying to focus...not cry...and definitely not get sick.
--this is when the 'if I knew then what I know now' phrase seems appropriate.--
(*side note to my kids: I DID love your father when I married him---or rather what I thought I knew of him.*)
I made it though the ceremony...and out of the Church...straight to the girls room---again.
(Question: Any of yall tried to use the girls room in a wedding dress---with petticoats, no less???)
We all met back in the church for pictures afterwards...
The wedding photog was a crime scene/autopsy photog during the week---weddings were his weekend gig. Whenever he tried to take a pic, he would stand on a chair, and his lights would fall over...or he would. Nice.
The Groomsmen were patronizing and rowdy. My girls maintained their composure---and class.
My bro-in-law drove us to the Oceana Naval Base Officers Club for the reception...we rode in 'the White Shadow'---my beloved father-in-laws car...I rolled the windows down for some fresh air.
The reception was really lovely...mom spared no expense, and the food was amazing. I loved that we were on a Navy base and on the ocean.(Again, I missed my dad.)
However, the Jet-Jockeys were next door in the Officers Bar....so, besides the eye candy, I thought maybe my girls would meet someone!
The traditional dances and photographs(by the autopsy guy) ensued...we danced, sang, and my X drank...a lot. All of my extended family were there.
We had a reception line---which I highly recommend. I said hello to everyone...I hope!(Note to self: when the girls get married, designate a 'lipstick/powder person...or build pockets in to dress)
Time to go...
I went back in to the Officers Quarters with my girls, and my mom...and got out of my dress and in to my 'going away suit'---another Southern thing....my girls put my shoes on because I was so ill!
Rice in my face and an amazing vintage car to drive us away---Thank you's to mom...goodbyes to my friends...'
And we were off....
Champagne bucket in the back with us...My X drank the whole bottle himself...I ate the ice. We stopped at my mom's house and I left her a thank you note (after I got sick---again---in her bathroom)...and we were off to Norfolk to spend the night in wedded 'bliss'...and get on our flight to St. Martin the next morning...(or so I thought.)

Every bride has a mystical idea of her wedding night. I had bought this amazing ice blue gown---a la 1940's movie star---to 'present myself' in....hahahah!
Turns out...My X was smoking a cigarette in the bed, holding a bourbon drink in the other hand ---and the PHONE was crooked against his ear connected to the Hospitality Suite at the Hotel at the Beach...!!!! He had PASSED OUT.
Nice. I hung up the phone---after a few choice words with his frat brothers on the other end...put his cigarette out...put his drink on the table...and...changed in to my Tshirt and socks.
I then proceeded to eat the heck out of the reception food that had been sent with us. We slept in separate beds...Romantic, eh?
The next morning, 'Einstein' realized that he had misread the itinerary....as we left the Hotel...our flight to St. Martin flew over our heads.
How fun it was to see all of the guests catching their flights that afternoon at Norfolk International....
We finally made it to St. Martin...which in itself is 'a whole 'nother story!'
Again, I say...A Comedy Of Errors....
(Stay tuned for 'The Honeymoon')

Dear Roxy....

...When we adopted you in August of 2008, they told us you were 'a year to a year and a half old'.
Come to find out today----you were only FIVE months old.(yes, I finally read ALL your papers.)
Someone 'surrendered' you to the pound at a mere 4 months old! How could they?
I know you were the prettiest puppy...they must have had to move away....However, the scar on your nose, still remains a mystery.
Sweet sweet Roxanne Von Bacheler.
I must apologize to you.
For all the things you chewed up....and I was so angry with you.
For the time I even thought about adopting you out to another family because 'surely an 18 month old would NOT destroy my furniture'.
But, alas, you were but a 'wee lass'.
We love you Rox. With your pretty eyeliner, sweet ways, and your occasional 'badness'...I now understand. And I forgive you, my love!
Let's start over...shall we?
xoxox Your Momma 'Dog',
Kat~

My Apologies....

I realize that bad behavior trickles down....
So, for any of my gal pals who are having difficulties with their kids...I offer you my sincerest apologies...and here's how it all started.
I told my 14 and 11 year old children to STOP calling each other 'fat' as a cut-down.
The fighting continued throughout the summer, and they adopted the loving names to call each other:'muffin top'....and 'man boobs'.
Nice. Yeah, I know.
So I told them NOT to say that in front of their 4 yr. old sister---because knowing how things go, she'd get mad at a boy in her class and call him 'man boobs'.
And, that's just WRONG.
So then, my 4 yr.old spent a day with her 6 yr. old cousin...who taught her all kinds of surly and unlady-like things.
First: it is NOT funny when you poot and announce it to everyone. NO. It is NOT.
Second: the clinching of the fists, and the stomping off has GOT to stop. It's disrespectful...and by the way: when a grown up tells you to do something...DO IT---do NOT throw attitude around. You are 4!
Third: we do NOT say 'nanneeenanneeeboobooo'. Period. It is disrespectful, and unladylike.
Fourth: yes, you, my 4 yr. old, WILL wear a seat belt...you WILL sit in a carseat and you WILL wear a bike helmet---I don't CARE that your 6yr.old cousin is not required to.
Fifth: you will NOT tease your younger friends and act like you are the 'sh#t'...you have to follow the same rules she does!
So,my gals, when your child comes home and pinches the baby....because my 4 yr. old was a 'pill' and her big brother/sister were being horrible to each other and inevitably started the chain reaction---which has affected your kids...I apologize!