death, Family, grief, humor, Motherhood

There’s Something About Mary….

My aunt and my mom were best friends. I assume they still are best friends. Just best friends Somewhere Else. With those two it’s a real toss-up on where they could be. I think I probably was introduced to the concepts of “gossip” and “complaining” from them. This is not a criticism. This is a Fact. This is a Sister Thing. If you have a sister, you know. And if you are saying to yourself right now “My sister and I don’t gossip or complain at all” then you are either lying or adopted. And you are missing out. Because this is what sisters are for.

My Aunt Mary lived two hours away in the great city of Toledo. We called her Thea Mimi because Thea is “Aunt” in Greek and “Mimi” was what my uncle called her when he was little, and I guess it just stuck. When she came to visit for the day it was a real treat. I remember being so excited to see her car in the driveway. She was the Cool Aunt. She would never show up empty-handed. She started me and my sisters each on a collection of miniature ceramic animals. I still cherish mine. My mom, on the other hand, did not do Fun-Gifts-for-No-Reason. When we would visit Thea Mimi for a couple of days she would take us for ice cream at Zipz, a place shaped like an igloo where you could make your own sundae. My mom bought vanilla no- brand ice cream from Kroger. Thea Mimi fed so many wildlife creatures they were comfortable coming up to her back-patio door asking for food. It was like something out of a Disney movie over there. The closest we got to wildlife coming up to our door was one summer when a raccoon was stuck between our trash compactor and kitchen cabinet. She belonged to The Toledo Club and was on the board of the Toledo Art Museum. My mom played a monthly pinochle game with the neighborhood ladies.

Side Note:

Before one of my relatives comments that my mom was great and awesome and all the things I already know but am ignoring and not writing about in this blog in the name of HUMOR, I will say that my aunt had only had one child, my cousin Cate, who was older than us and already away at college by the time I was 6, so she had time to spoil us. My mom had three daughters plus one First-Male-Grandchild-of-a-Greek-Family-Named-After-the-Grandfather-so-let’s-have-a-200-person-Christening-for-him-at-a-Banquet-Hall-with-a-Band, so she had her hands full. (No, I’m not bitter. And yes, that’s for another blog entry someday.) So, she was busy and overwhelmed and didn’t have time for ceramic animals, woodland creatures, or ice cream trips. I do remember us eating at Kmart’s diner often, though.

But even at that age, it wasn’t the presents that I looked forward to the most. It was just her being there. Everything was more fun with her around. I couldn’t even tell you why. Or maybe I could. She had funny stories. She included us kids in the conversation. She always carried around a tiny golden box filled with her teeny tiny saccharin tablets. She had small delicate hands. She laughed a lot. And as I’m writing this I am realizing she was much more affectionate than my mom was. My mom was not much of a hugger, but my aunt would envelope you into her arms and you felt really loved.

WARNING: HERE IS WHERE MY STORY STOPS BEING FUNNY SO STOP READING IF YOU AREN’T IN THE MOOD FOR SERIOUS TALK.

She and my mom died one month apart. If the internet was around then I’m sure their story would go viral as it was a strange series of events that seemed more divine than coincidental. Neither one of them knew that the other died. That is a story in and of itself, but for another time. My faith and my strong belief in sisterhood tell me it would have been hard for either one of them to survive without the other.

What happens when your mom dies a month before your treasured aunt, is that you don’t really get to grieve that second important person. The first grief is so overwhelming that you just bury the second one along with it. Then one day you start writing a blog entry about Mother’s Day and your own mother and then her sister and then sisters and death and everything in between and you realize what started out as one thing has ended up being something very different. I am starting to learn that this is what happens when you begin to write. I did not intend to write about Thea Mimi. But now I realize that this turned into a way for me to finally grieve for her after so many years.

Mother’s Day came and went yesterday. Tomorrow is Thea Mimi’s birthday. Friday is my mom’s. Every year this week creeps up on me. This has been a hard last few days. I don’t know when I will fully embrace this day as my own and not think about what I have lost as a daughter and sister rather than what I have gained as a mother. I grieve for my mom. I grieve for my aunt. I grieve for my sister.

***I realized while searching that there aren’t enough pictures of my Thea Mimi. Probably because she was the family photographer. She was an amateur, but she was good at it. I love that she is holding her camera here, as if someone caught her out from behind the lens, smiling her ever-present smile.***

Sisters

exercise, faith, humor, religion, Uncategorized

Are you on the Right Road?

When I first decided I was going to start a blog I went back and looked at some of my old Facebook posts. I wanted see if there was anything worth reworking that I could one day include here. What I found was that there were very few things that would actually translate over to blog format. I did find a couple of gems, however. The story below still rings funny to me today, three years after it happened.

By the way, I still have the Bible.

Side Note

When I was thinking of a title for this entry the sign for the Dixie Baptist Church kept popping into my head. This is a well-known sign in Michigan that you can see from the highway on your way “up north.” If you are from the Metro-Detroit area you know it.

JULY 2015

My stream of consciousness as I’m running this evening:

“Wow, I’m at a pretty good pace today! I can tell because I’m hot and sweaty and tired and on song number four of my playlis—–whaa???—-Is that a BIBLE on the sidewalk? (Still running) Crap. It is. Ugh. (Passing the bible) Now I gotta go back. I gotta. I have no choice. (Turning around going back.) Hmmm. Its kind of right in front of this house. I wonder if the owners are inside? If I knock on the door will they think I’m a Bible salesman or a Jehovah’s Witness? This feels weird. Just put it in a safe corner here on the grass and come back and get it after my run. Oh man, there’s a name engraved on it. There’s pressed flowers inside. It’s important to someone. No, I can’t do that. I’ll for sure get hit by a car on my way home if I do that. (Picking up the 10 lb hardcover four-versions-in-one bible). Ok. I’ll just keep running. I only have about five minutes left I can do this. It’s a Bible for goodness sake’s it should make my load “lighter” ha ha. Stop it. You should not make jokes about the Bible. Nope doesn’t feel any lighter. I wonder if all these drivers are wondering “hey who’s the crazy lady running with the Bible? Why doesn’t she just get a book on tape?” This is getting pretty heavy. Think I will just walk the rest of the way home.

If anyone knows Teresa Dotson, please let her know I have her bible.

humor, Marriage, Uncategorized

Mr. Anderson

When I first met Ted he had just left a job working for Lord & Taylor. He dressed nicely and I thought he had a handle on fashion.

I was tricked.

Soon after we were married I noticed him wearing a GIANT GOLD watch. Something you might see a character in Scarface wearing. Where had this been during our courtship? Was there a secret drawer I didn’t know about where he was keeping relationship deal-breakers? Yes. Yes there was. Inside this metaphorical drawer were baseball shorts from high school. Mock turtlenecks from the early 90’s. Two-thousand four-hundred and eighty-two baseball hats. And a fedora. Yes, you heard me. A FEDORA.

SIDE NOTE

I have always said that Ted was born in the wrong era: He walks around department stores asking where the double-breasted suits are. He wore that fedora for years until I threatened him. He makes “old man” jokes that only grandparents understand and think are funny. I bet he uses the word “gals” a lot when I am not around. He talks a lot about the weather. The first album he downloaded on his iPhone was Dean Martin “That’s Amore.” And one time we were playing the game Scattergories and he had to name a celebrity that started with the letter “B” and a TV show that started with the letter “L.” His answers? Bea Arthur and “Love, American Style.”

Okay, back to the story. Turns out Ted does not like to part with things. EVER.

Enter the MATRIX COAT.

The Matrix Coat is not part of a costume. Well, at least it did not start out that way. It is a coat that was purchased on purpose years ago. On our honeymoon. In Austria. The Matrix Coat is made of Real Leather. If I remember correctly it is made of Goat Leather. An homage to the homeland perhaps? If you remember the SNL skit with Jimmy Fallon and Horatio Sanz where they work at “The Leatherman” you will understand how squeaky the Matrix Coat is. Did I mention this was the late 90’s?

The Matrix Coat was “retired” years ago. To the dismay of the Owner. I hesitated to get rid of it. This would make a good Halloween costume some day I said to myself. I hid it in the back of the hall closet where I thought it wouldn’t be found. This is a guy who can’t find his keys, glasses, and wallet on a regular basis. How would he find the Matrix Coat?

Fast forward to the Winter of 2017-18. Now, no one expects to have a husband who goes through three coats a season. But sometimes, you will leave a perfectly nice, stylish three season jacket at the Cheesecake Factory. Or, say, because you have a good heart, you will give the brand-new replacement jacket to a homeless person. You might break a zipper on the third jacket. At this point, it wouldn’t be unusual for the shopper-of-coats to decide that she is done spending time and money on outer wear.

So do you know what happens when you have an unusually long winter and you have no winter coats left and no one to buy you a new one? You resurrect the Matrix Coat.

Here are some of the natural consequences of wearing the Matrix Coat:

Someday when you look back at pictures from your Spring Break vacation you will wonder why you are in all the pictures alone.

People will refer to you as Neo.

You will look like a West Suburban Dad Thug.

Without knowing why, strangers will start humming Spin Doctors and Alanis Morissette when you walk by.

And lastly, your wife will blog about it.

Here he is on Spring Break with one of his contemporaries talking about the old days and waiting for a couple of gals to walk by and notice them.

humor, Marriage, Uncategorized

When perspiration leads to inspiration….

The following is a true story of what happened when I took my husband to work out with me at Orange Theory recently.

Some quick background: I have been asking Ted to come with me for months but he has been resisting thinking that because he is so out of shape I am secretly trying to kill him for insurance money. Side note: I would never do this. Our policy is not that high.

Somehow, I got him to agree to come with me this particular morning.

On Our Way (otherwise known as “THE INTERROGATION”)

Me: I picked a smaller class for us with a nice trainer who won’t work you too hard.

Ted: How many people will be there?

Me: I’m not sure. Anywhere from 15-25? It’s a three-group class.

Ted: What do you mean three groups? One group is working out and the other two are resting?

Me: (Wondering if he is kidding) Ummm no. Three groups are going at once. One on the treadmill, one on the rower, and one on the weights.

Ted: I just want you to know that I hurt my elbow the other day. For real…so…

Me: (Quickly realizing I am going to have to restrain myself today with the snarky comments) Ok. So just take it easy if we happen to work any of those all-important elbow muscles.

Ted: Should I wear my glasses? Are there going to be any sudden violent movements where they might fly off?

Me: Has that ever happened before when you’ve worked out? I don’t think that’s going to happen.

Ted: Do you take your wallet? Are there lockers?

Me: (Bracing myself for the onslaught that I know is coming from my Director of Security husband) I just leave everything in the car.

Ted: ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TRAININGS I DID ABOUT NOT LEAVING THINGS IN THE CAR WHEN YOU WORK OUT WHEN I WORKED FOR BALLY TOTAL FITNESS??? (I hesitate to mention this fascinating news as I don’t want to distract from the topic of this post; but, yes, Ted did have a stint at BTF…perhaps those stories will be used for another blog at a later date)

ME: (Stifling a laugh) Don’t worry, I have a good hiding place. I put it in the glove box. (Steam is coming out of his ears)

The Set-Up…OR..How I Tried Hard Not to Laugh and Failed

Trainer to Ted: So, when was the last time you were in shape?

Me: (Realizing I am not going to be able to refrain from snarky comments after all) 1986!!! 😂😂😂

Ted: (Serious look on his face) That’s probably accurate.

Trainer: What were you doing back then?

Me: (Cracking myself up) Going to college and looking for a wife!

Trainer: I meant what was he doing to keep in shape.

Me: Oops. (Let’s face it. At this point I have lost all sense of reality and am no longer able to control my verbal impulsivity. I vow to stop talking and start supporting).

The Work-Out (Fondly referred to as “60 minutes of Hell’)

For those who aren’t familiar with OT, during the workout you have an arm-strap on to calculate your heart rate. There is a screen on the wall that displays your stats as you exercise: name, calories burned, and heart rate. Your heart rate is measured on a continuum that progresses from grey (resting) to blue, green, and then orange as you work harder and reach your optimum heart rate. Your goal is to be in “In the Orange” for at least 12 minutes during the one-hour workout. After orange comes red. And possible death.)

Approximately 7 minutes into the warm-up Ted is still just sitting on the rower as everyone around him is rowing or lifting weights or running (including me). The trainer is shouting out instructions.

Ted: Has it started?

Me: YES! What are you doing? Start rowing!!

Thirty seconds later Ted is rowing half as hard as me and much more slowly. I am still in the grey. Ted is in the RED. This becomes the theme for the hour.

After the rower and weight training we finally arrive at the treadmill portion. Unfortunately for Ted this is a strength class so we are “doing hills.” This means the treadmill will be on a steady incline during the next 20 minutes. Hills are hard even if you ARE in shape. Eventually we go from a walk to a push to an All-Out Run. Ted’s All-Out Running pace is the speed of my walk pace. He is huffing. He is puffing. At least three times I look over and see him doing the sign of the cross.

The End (aka “The Payoff”)

Optimum time In the Orange is at least 12 minutes. Ted ends the hour with 38. Two kinds of people have that high of a number. Those that are incredibly fit and are working at a high cardio level. Or the other kind.

We are both happy and proud he finished it. And he did it without passing out.

Ted: (Looking at the screen recording his output) What does that number mean on the screen? The 528?

Me: That’s how many calories you burned.

Ted: Let’s go to Starbucks. That’s like two scones.

Disclaimer: For those who think I am being mean by making fun of my husband, you should know that I emailed him this story first to get permission to publish.

His reply: “Excellent. Very funny. Mostly accurate.”

You should also know that he offered up a few titles for this particular blog. Titles like “Mighty Adonis,” “My Husband the Hero,” and “The Building of a Greek God.” So thank you, but no need to worry about him. Self-esteem still intact.

humor, Uncategorized

My greatest achievement

I get out of my car and walk toward the Starbucks where I get my Refresher every morning. (Shut up and don’t judge). There’s Gerald sitting in his usual spot: the easy chair by the door, greeting all the regulars. (His real name is Rich and he rides a motorcycle but I refer to him in my head as Gerald because he seems like someone’s grandpa named Gerald and not a Rich who is also a biker.) It is almost mandatory to stop and chat. Even if you don’t want to. He can see you coming from the parking lot from his front door seat. Weeks ago I was there with my husband and I introduced him and it was then I learned his actual name and he learned mine. THIS WAS A MISTAKE.

So this particular day I walk in and he immediately says to me “Hey! Are you customer of the month?” Now, any of my friends saying this would be a funny haha joke because I go there every day. But Gerald does not make jokes like this. So I am confused. He continues, “Your name is on the wall.” At this point I am starting to have an out-of-body experience/panic attack. I can’t explain it. For those of you that know me, you are aware that I have no problem being the center of attention. But only on my terms. Having my name on the wall of Starbucks is NOT ON MY TERMS.

Slowly I float to this chalkboard that has miraculously appeared next the “Pet of the Month” announcement. There is my name under customer of the month. There could be another customer named Samantha…but there is my signature drink under “favorite drink.” It’s got to be me. Oh no. “Hobbies” has yet to be filled in. And by the way, is this chalkboard new? Why have I never seen this before? Hey, look at that cute Yorkie that is right next to me sharing the honor. What are his hobbies and favorite drink? “Dirty water from a puddle and sniffing butts.”

I creep up to the counter with what I’m sure is a red face. I am already sweating. There are maybe five people waiting for their drinks along with suddenly four people in line behind me. Annie the barista approaches me “Your drink is free today because you are the customer of the month!” she says in what seems like a shout. Before I can say anything she whips out a camera and says “We have to take your picture!”

There are now over 100 people in Starbucks. Probably not but it feels hot and crowded. Have I mentioned I have not showered yet? That I am in yoga pants and a dri-fit quarter zip with my hair in a pony and last night’s make-up still on? This is why we stay-at-home moms get a bad rap by the way. Stop taking pictures of us in our natural habitat before we have even gotten ourselves together.

“Ummm…let’s let these people go first,” I say since it feels super weird to have my picture taken at the Starbucks counter with everyone looking. The man behind me says something like “I’ll have what she’s having.” Not really but that line is from one of my favorite movies and it seems like he should have said that and that’s what he said in my head because it’s funnier.

I am still in the cloud as I take my seat near Kenny G (not the real Kenny G but a guy who looks just like him and I mean JUST LIKE HIM and it could be him because I haven’t seen him lately in the news and maybe he is just hiding out in DG on the down low except I think Kenny G would have better shoes and not wear ladies jeans.)

Finally my drink is ready and the crowd has dissipated a bit. Annie comes over with a very official looking piece of scrap paper and asks me what my hobbies are. Ummm. Laundry, grocery shopping, driving my kids around from 3pm-7pm, letting my dog in and out of the back door, and this year in particular working on the several 4th Grade book reports that are due throughout the school year. Then she takes my picture with a Polaroid which is either better because I can blame the bad photo on the blurry picture or worse because there is no Photoshop.

She puts my picture up and fills in the chalkboard. I think about where I will go to get my Starbucks for the next month. The one downtown? No, crossing the tracks is like going to Canada. I will not go north. The one on 75th and Cass? Maybe. It’s next to the Nothing Bundt Cakes and that makes me happy. The drive thru on Maple and 53? Too far. It is starting to dawn on me why I am customer of the month…..

If you happen to need a Starbucks in the next month…hit up the one on 75th and Main…it’s got great atmosphere and the baristas and location can’t be beat…

Never a Dulles Moment

Finding the absurd in the ordinary

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