Monthly Archives: September 2010

Saying Thank You… for a real good time.

My family and I just got back from a wonderful, fun-filled, never stressed, not a mean word spoken, everything went perfectly, vacation.  

Anybody ever have one of those?  


No, I’m kidding. Kinda.  It was an absolutely fantastic vacation to Colorado even if I tend to “Clark Griswold” the whole trip.  

Super sketchy mountain passes, in a rental, might not be the best place to test your teenage son’s driving skills. At least I know the passenger side brake worked. Along with my yelling skills. (My husband would like to add there’s never ever been any doubt about my yelling skills.)   Luckily he did a great job — because it was nighttime and he was unable to “see” exactly how many feet we would plummet to our deaths if he swerved. “It’s all part of the experience…” 

But we did not plummet to our untimely deaths. Instead this family vacation consisted of only one missed flight and only one major fall. That’s a pretty darn good record in our family. The fall involved my middle son, a mountain bike, a gravel “road” and a wonderfully executed flip. We turned down the offer for Ski Patrol. Nothing like a $3000 bill for some gauze and band-aids. But hey, what kind of vacation would it be if everything went smoothly.    

I can tell you  there were no wheelchairs nor hangovers (though both would’ve come in handy).  Just good ‘ol family fun.  

My husband needs to be a "Flower Photographer".

My husband needs to be a "Flower Photographer".


This picture is right before I yelled, "Jason, don't let her touch those!"


We used to live in Colorado and we always like to drive by houses and places where we used to live. (That’s a lot of houses and a lot of places because I refuse to bloom where I’m planted.) Anyway, as we winded down some road in some valley looking for one of our old houses, my teenage son remarked, “I just don’t understand how people don’t go crazy living all the way out here.”  

My husband answered: “They do.”  

Then I added: “I did. But I was young and you were in Kindergarten, your brother was 18 months old and I didn’t have any friends near by. Papa worked an hour away Monday thru Friday and I waited tables at the local hole-in-the-wall on the weekends.”  

Ah, my first real taste of depression.  



Good times. However this particular little house on the side of the mountain holds some really fond memories involving a raging forest fire, no car and an old Christmas tree under the back deck.  

Despite all that, I can honestly say I miss Colorado. Just not the tiny house 30 minutes from the nearest grocery store. Or waiting tables. Or forest fires. Or very little kids who don’t sleep through the night. Or the loneliness. But the mountains, the Sky and the people — I really really miss them.


My Precious

Wine, you and I have been friends for a long time. Longer than I’d like to admit. But I really think we need to have some new boundaries in our “relationship”.

There you are my pretty.

First, you must remain by yourself without my connection from Sunday until Friday evening. Yes, I know you always mean well. But sometimes my head does not agree with you the next morning. I won’t broach the subject of my liver…We haven’t been “tight” for years. I saw it on the road the other day with its suitcase. It was a pretty sad sight. But it looked happy and who am I to judge.

Second, you must stop calling my friends. It is especially embarrassing when you leave incoherent messages and start blabbing incessantly. I know you just love my friends, but sometimes they don’t like you. Even if you swear you’ve made a new breakthrough which answers all life questions.

Third, you must never ever get on my Facebook account. Your status updates, though quite witty, use far too many swear words and are rarely neutral. In addition there is no need to comment on everyone else’s statuses, nor is a thumbs up warranted for every friends’ posts. Though you think you’re funny, the next day you’re actually anxiety producing. And then when I must delete your “words” I just make other people look like they’re talking to themselves. So now you’ve embarrassed two people.

Fourth, you must stop tricking me into thinking, “Just one more beer, vodka, heaven forbid tequilla and then you’ll let me sleep.” Once you’re finished with me, there is no need for you to have one of your other friends  jump out and scream, “CHECK.ME.OUT. Shiny and new. Open me up and then we’ll make some calls.”

Now play fair you two.

We’ve been through a lot, you and I. And I’m really only asking for some little things. I’ve been your vessel for too long. No more tricking me with your silly tastings, pairing yourself with great food, cheese and bread and great conversation. So if you could just keep your end of the bargain, I don’t see us breaking up anytime in the near future.

Forever faithfully yours,


P.S. We’ll talk about the dancing next time.

Oh what tangled webs we weave.

Oh what tangled webs we weave.