My Mom's Birthday

Today Mom turns 82 years old. If she walked this Earth, I imagine

To tease her with a cake too small to hold 82 candles-

If I listen I can surely hear Mom laugh.

My dad would be quite the feisty 86 years young, and

I see them, side by side on the river bank-

Perhaps with my 94 year old uncle I visited the other day--

Fishin' and talkin about the 'old days'.

My 'old days' with my mom lasted just 13 years.

It's funny how my memories aren't as vivid as they once were-

Time has passed so.

I want to remember more.

I want to just be the daughter to make a mother proud...

Happy Birthday, Mama--

Thank you for giving me this life--

I love and so very much miss you.

Still Sunday Stuff 3

Well, for about 10 more minutes anyway. Usually blog this late--cause usually, this time on a Sunday, I'd be in bed because Monday would be a work day. Yet, Memorial Day it will be. Who doesn't like a holiday fall on a Monday?

The a/c is still runnin'. Geez, it's going to be a long summer, even tho summer isn't quite here yet.

Mainly, the deal in these last 8 minutes of Sunday, I've pondered a bunch of stuff. My weight and how the 41 pounds I'd planned to lose did get lost alright. I think it just itself all over my hips. So yes, some of it has to go. School--and how I feel to start applying to places before I even get my degree, and then my parents. How, if I were back in Iowa, I would visit their graves, with roses in hand. I'd reminisce of Memorial Days past. Those days we'd spend the whole day together, either with other family members or just our family of three fishing and picnic-ing.

I'd also search for my paternal grandparents, buried in the same cemetery. I never knew either one. I'd let them know I know the names of my great-great grandparents, who were slaves in Loudon County, Virginia. But my paternal grandfather may have known all that since he was born in 1876, and his grandmother didn't pass until the early 1900's. History I want to uncover.

OK, two minutes left. And wouldn't you know I have a quick 30 minute school write up thingy to do? The school is two hours behind me and it won't take long. I am getting tired. And my bed awaits.

It's been a good Sunday.

Tasty Morsel...NOT!

What is yours truly holding? What makes me grimace so? Nope, not some gi-normous Jurassic Park bug. Alas, it is a crawfish.

Uck.

I'd mentioned to a co-worker, who hails from Louisiana, how I don't do much seafood, except for shrimp. And that's about once every five years. Plus, I told her how an ex took me to Louisiana, and before we arrived at his Mom's, he stopped at some crawfish hut and bought a gazillion pounds of the stuff. I also told her I lost weight on that particular trip. But I did say, if she ever brought some, I would try crawfish....uh..

And did I mention, my dad used these suckers for bait?

I digress.

Well, yesterday was the day. There was a bowl of crawfish on the table. To me it looked liked a bunch of big and dead, waterbugs! They grossed me. I told my co-workers I wasn't playing--the site did gross me. The waterbu--er--the CRAWFISH, just were piled high. OMG. I figured, my sweet Daddy would be in hog heaven to fish with this much BAIT.

The look on my face is authentic. I washed my hands until my color came off. They had to crack one open for me. The sound made me gag. I ate the tail--or whatever part it is. OK--first taste was like shrimp. I thought I could handle it. Well, then the SALT taste rained in my mouth.

No thanks.

Yesterday, first and last taste of crawfish.

Maybe I oughta buy a fishing rod for myself as a birthday gift.

Tasty morsel?

Crawfish--not even close.

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.

It's FRIDAY....no, wait---it's really THURSDAY....

....Yet it might as well be Friday....tomorrow is the 4th of July...a holiday....a day off...my kitty's seventh birthday (the orange tabby who graces my blog)....so today IS Friday!

Got plans?

In the days gone by, aunts, uncle, cousins, me and my parents would head to a family picnic. There would be a little fishin thrown in. Fishin' was my dad's way of escape from the crackle of the women. Also it was a time my dad and I would just bond.

I miss those days. He'll be gone seven years October 18. In fact, the orange tabby who celebrates his birthday tomorrow was my last 'gift' from my dad. Yep. A couple days after my dad's funeral, I stood at the back door of our house. Threw some corn to the squirrels, and saw this orange fluff run to it. A kitten.

It took the week before I had to leave my hometown, basically a game of cat and mouse before he wound up in my arms for good. We would sit, each morning on the patio. I fed him food--from the two cats that made the trip from Dallas with me, and talked to him. I told him he reminded me of a kitten I had when I was about 1o. That was Tiger Paw, an outdoor kitty--and one night I saw him, then the next day I didn't. I promised this kitty he wouldn't ever live in the wilds again. I believed my dad sent me the kitten to help me through the sorrow of missing him.

It worked.

Now, my kitten is seven years old. I still miss my dad, yet life is so good. I can't wait for the fireworks tomorrow...after all it will be a holiday, plus FRIDAY!

Father's Day...

Today is Father’s Day.

Dad would have opened the dozen or so cards I got him.

He would have fixed us pancakes---even though it was his day.

We would chat over our bountiful breakfast.

Reminisce about the time I slit open Christmas packages, and then tried to tape them back together.

Or the time we made a bird house together.

Or the time he took me on my first airplane ride.

Or we would talk about my mom. How she passed away so young, then

We would laugh about all the Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper we ate after she left.

Today would have been our day. Daddy Daughter Time.

We might have gone fishing. Just the two of us.

Dad has now been gone seven years. Time does not stop.

Sometimes I swear I still smell his King Edward cigar.

I know Dad is with me. I rejoice that he and my mom are together.

My God gave me parents who loved me more than life itself.

I know I am loved.

I know I am blessed.

Everyday is Father’s Day.