WAKING UP SLOWLY JUST LIKE MOMMY

Dreaming of Smithfield's Organic Vanilla Yogurt until Mom busts in with the camera.


I am sooooo tired, Mom. Three and a half hours was not enough. Get that camera out of my face.


I am ignoring you until you get me some yogurt.


I TOLD YOU TO GET THAT CAMERA OUT OF MY FACE!!!!!!!!!!


Ok, I'm awake now. Where's the yogurt?

CATFEESHIN'

This is my BFF Leah. I have some questions for her and hopefully she will read my blog and respond.

Question #1: Was the song from Deliverance playing in the background?
Question #2: What is in the bucket located at the bottom left corner of this picture?
Question #3: How is your shirt so white and so clean?
Question #4: Did the catfish eat Cody for dinner?
Question #5: Why aren't your pants tucked into your shoes?
Question #6: Can I come next year?
Question #7: Got any hushpuppies?

EYE OF THE TIGER

Dear Hangover,

I am real sick of you. I could understand your persistence if I were, say, drinking every night or going to bars and taking shots of tequila. I HAD FRIENDS OVER FOR DINNER FOR THE LOVE OF PETE!!! Can't I have three glasses of wine without you breathing down my neck? It's getting pretty ridiculous, Hangover. If you want to come around when I stay up past, say, 10:00 p.m. go for it. But under the present circumstances I don't see any reason for you to knock on my door. I am, for the most part, a well-behaved drinker (unless I'm on vacation and you never leave me alone then). I don't hang from the rafters or get bombed around my child. I don't smoke in my house or spill wine on the new carpet. I STAY AT HOME, SIT AROUND A TABLE AND CONVERSATE WITH OTHER ADULTS. Is that a friggin' crime? If you want to go to the mattresses, let's do it. I will not be defeated. If I want to indulge twice a week, I sure the heck will. I am 28 not 78 and you can't take me down, Hangover. BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING IT YOU SORRY DOG!!!!

Yours Truly,
G

THE POET OF A COMMON MAN

As long as I live, I will never forget Roy Mitchell....

This past Sunday I was lucky enough to see Merle Haggard in concert. Merle was born in 1937 and I wasn't exactly sure what sort of crowd would be attending his show at the Amarillo Globe News Center. I had never been before and sort of expected a drunken mob of people screaming "You're Walkin'on the Fightin' Side of Me". Not so much. Justin and I sat in the balcony and we were surrounded by people at least 40 years our elder. There were two empty seats next to us for the first 30 minutes. Until a little man and his girlfriend (Justin said daugther) joined us. He had a very sharp suit on and a snazzy cane. He sang right along and new every single word to all of M.H.'s songs. Later, this strapping young man told me he was 91 years old and had listened to songs such as "Sing a Sad Song", "Mama Tried", "I think I'll Just Stay Here and Drink" for decades.

I sipped on a margarita and pondered just how much life was in the room and marveled over Merle Haggard's 73 year old stamina and wit.

As the curtains were about to fall, my new friend began to fumble around for his glasses and had obviously misplaced something of importance. I asked him if he needed help and he turned to me with a toothless grin. "I thought tequila made your clothes fall off, not your dentures fall out," Roy Mitchell said.

JUSTIN

LUB

I received this picture via email today and my heart melted. My step-dad picked these out for BB, set them up and emailed the picture "to Betty". I don't even feel comfortable with the term step-dad anymore.

After years and years of trying to heal from a nasty divorce (all parties involved), I have found peace and most importantly BB has found love.

Divorce changed all of us. Our entire family unit was affected, transformed and will never be the same again. Anger, blame and hate was the initial reaction. We never thought we could be whole again. I spent so many years being empty and lost and MISSING MY WHITE PICKET FENCE PAST. There are still days I long for that simplicity. And although it will never be the days of 104 S. Barkley, I AM OK and most importantly BB is loved. She is loved by all kinds of people...Poppys and Bs, Mimis, Chicks and PapaJos, aunts, uncles, uncles' girlfriends and new step-grandmoms. I thank God for love, no matter its form. I thank God that so many people love and care about her. That there are people in her life with enough kindness to treat her as if she were from their very own heart. It's as if she IS from their very own heart. She is so very blessed.

Vincent Van Gogh said, "One of the most difficult things to do is to paint darkness which nonetheless has light in it."

WHAT I MEANT TO SAY WAS

I feel as if I should add some clarification to my last entry....for all three of you that read this blog. Yesterday I took BB to the bakery for a cake ball (don't even ask) and then to the park. She was toddling along in front of me in her blue jeans and pink Convers sneakers. Tears came immediately. She is no longer a baby but a wee tiny little girl. And for the record, she is not a holy terror. She is a small person trying to communicate and express herself. She is developing an opinion and knows what she wants. I busted out the camera on "fit day" because she was singing so softly and sweetly to her baby. She has learned to take pictures (random of course) and wanted to do it herself, hence the angry looks below. Don't get me wrong, we have our moments and I am learning to be a better, more patient parent. But for the most part she is nothing but loving and kind. I remember thinking, a long time ago, I can never love her more than I do right now. Not true. We love her more today than ever. More than yesterday but not as much as tomorrow. I often wonder how my life has been so blessed. As I type this she is behind me, playing with my hair and saying how cute mommy. Eighteen months is a whole new ballgame.