Christmas Eve 1998 was Thursday

Was going to repost what I blogged in 2009. 'cause I liked it and thought it summed it all up--even my thoughts-for 2010. Then gandered in my 'history books' -aka my diaries- to check what happened on Christmas Eves passed. As I started to read 1998, I smiled and remembered it well. I'd forgotten these events happened on Christmas Eve.

Back in my Iowa hometown for Christmas, and I actually flew instead of driving. Hmm. I wonder who babysat the cats or if I bordered them? Anyway. there was snow and a temperature with a wind chill of a gazillion below zero. Far cry from even the coldest days in Dallas. I also had my usual December sniffles and wondered if I would shake them before my one and only book signing of my one and only book in our town's library scheduled in a couple days.

My 'history book' says as I came in the house from getting a newspaper because there was a notice about my book signing in it, the phone rang. It was the mom of Dwight, a classmate of mine. I was floored. She was thrilled about my book and would I please come over to her son's house (my classmate) and spend a little of Christmas with them? I was floored still. My dad and step-mother had told me how my Dwight's mom had called the house wondering about me and they'd run into her while they shopped in my town one of the two grocery stores.

I forget my sniffles. I put on some kind of cute sweater. I had to take my step-mother's car, which I was surprised it didn't freeze up on the maybe 5 minute--if that-drive to Dwight's house. It was about 8pm or so. Pitch black, and iceberg cold. It's Iowa, so you just bundle and go.
Dwight and known each other since we were in grade school, yet this was the first time I was in house, with his parents and his kids. One of sons and I share the same birthday, so that's cool. The whole night was cool and great. His family was wonderful. Honestly, looking back, it was kind of an intro to people asking me questions about my writing. We chatted, laughed and just fun. It was soon close to 11pm. .

Dwight's parents left and so did the kids. They had their own friends to tend to. Dwight and I sat on his couch. Just the two of us. Dwight was one of the most popular guys in our high school. Blond, blue eyed. We'd always known each other. In fact for my 18th birthday party, he stared the pool to get me flowers. On the day of my party, I was presented with 3 1/2 dozen red roses. All because of Dwight. Back to this night in 1998, I remember Dwight held a copy of my book. He gushed how I had written it and all I could think of "We're sitting here alone. Talking and listening to Christmas music!"

We chirped like the two 16 year old kids we both felt like. Then this song came on the radio, "Blue Christmas." Dwight says, "Let's dance!" I go, "I HATE this song!" Well, the question became how could I possible hate Elvis?? I didn't. Just this song was not my favorite Elvis song.

Didn't matter. Dwight and I slowed dance and laughed to this song. And then he kissed me. Yea, I was definitely 16 again. In all the years we'd known each other, Dwight and I had never kissed like that. I smile now. That night, I remember we talked about so many things, our lives, past and future, including our love lives. He had split up with somebody and my man was back in Dallas--at least I thought he was my man. That didn't matter either, because Dwight kissed me again.

The wind howled outside and I didn't care. It was one of those 'if time could stop' moments, because it may not even happen again. And it hasn't. Sure, when I'm back in my hometown, I always see Dwight. The electricity zips and zaps from both of us. I wonder if Dwight wonders how it could have maybe been different....That night we talked like we never talked before or since. We were the only two on the planet. It touched me.

The whole point is, that Christmas Eve in 1998, I told Dwight whenever I hear "Blue Christmas' by Elvis, and only Elvis---I'll always think of him.

....and I wonder if he does the same.

Oh, and when I left Dwight's house? My step-mother's car would NOT start for about a half hour. Then it finally did and I had to let it run to warm up. It may have been 40 below windchill factor. I realized then how I don't miss Iowa winters.

Until I said good night to Dwight.

Sweet, blue moment in time.

Am Too

That's what I am. It's 9:14pm. I promised myself I was going to bed early tonight..and I am.

Did some school work. This instructor--has already given me positive feedback on my posts. I'm beginning to think this Human Services Bachelor of Science thing I'm goin' for is a good thing. I do have do alot of writing for this particular class this weekend--plus I'd like to do some of my own fiction writing--my novella cries to me to add more words to it. I'll see what I can do.

Oh, and I tried to prune my wisteria tree--yes, tree--I hope I didn't kill it. Anyway, a branch popped me in the face. Since I take a blood thinner, I won't be too surprised if I have a bruise. Anyway, I'm pretty proud of myself for taking on such a task. It had grown enough, it had wrapped itself around my neighbors' tree branches....

And the kitty posted here? His name is Noir and has his own blog, Noir's Nook--which seems to get more hits than mine. Hmm. I can't be hating on my own cat, must be cuz Noir purrs! :) Anyway, I took snapped this picture just a few minutes ago. Noir perched on the blankee I have for a cat who decides to keep me company while I toil on the PC. Noir decided tonight was his shift. however Noir does decide when his shift is also over--cuz Noir pulled an Elvis and left the room....

...and I am too.

July 9, 1928 was Monday

And the day my mom was born. Eighty-one years ago. If Mom had lived I try to picture her at this age. Would she still be as fiesty as I remember? Still savor her gin? Let her hair go naturally gray? That part I kinda doubt. Would she still love me as much?

I know this part to be true. I wonder if Mom would be as proud We didn't have time to get into 'chats' about what I ought to do as a grown up. Mom died of complications from weight loss surgery in 1971. Yellow liver atrophy got her on a Friday and by Monday Mom was gone. So I always think of how it could be. I do remember my interest in taking French in high school, while Mom thought I should type and such--it was the 70's.

When Mom was second of five kids, plus second daughter I wonder what her parents thought? I can imagine Mom being a fussy baby--needed stuff done that second. Her family was poor--and I'm not sure of how much love was shown. Mom's mom passed when I was a year old. While by the time Mom died, she and her father were estranged. I later asked my own Dad if my grandfather attended his second daughter's funeral. Dad said he did. I still wonder.

With the deaths of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis and now Michael Jackson, maybe Mom wasn't suppose to get old. Maybe she always knew. Mom told me how she wanted to be buried when I was about 11 years old. Mom died at age 43 when I was 13. I've since crossed that 43 plateau and gone onto territory Mom never had a chance to get to. That's why I wonder what she would think? Honestly, I picture Mom's stare and then squint while asked--using my FULL name-"Just what are you doing?"

Nonetheless, on this day I do smile to think Mom and Dad sit on some cloud. A cloud with a pond so they could fish. Hey, it's Heaven--so everything is possible! And in this picture where Mom gets our food ready on one of many weekend fishing jaunts. Now back on that cloud, Mom and Dad watch over me as they cast out their line. I hope they smile. They loved to fish together. And they loved me--together.

So just what am I doing?

Stay tuned.

At lunch today...

I sat with four church chums where one born in 1975, two in 1977 and one in 1980. Three young ladies and a young man. Very interesting to hear views. All the time I saw was my life and what I was doing in their birth years--drinkin' and dancin' mostly--yet, that's another post.... :) To hear them speak of the election. How they didn't want it be such a black/white thing. The young man, one of the two born in '77, said, "I know somebody famous died the year I was born. I don't know who it was tho."

Elvis Pressley, I informed him. He stared at me as if I jibber jabbered. I just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, "Whoever he is."

Ahhh....and to think all I had to drink was pink lemonade.