i’ve had lots going on in my life since i last blogged over a month ago about how i was the tool can that crashed out a friend and teammate. i’ve got a gnarly (ok. it’s not that gnarly. my husband just laughs at it) battle wound of a scar on my elbow to show for it and said friend has since had surgery and even thanked me for the whole incident cause it gave him time to slow down a bit and think. about a girl.
i’m all for crashing people out if it somehow in a round about sorta way helps set them up with someone that is just perfectly perfect for them.
i’ve had lots going on and lots of ideas for blog posts, but i’d always wonder, yea – but is it blog-worthy? which would then always make me think of one of my favorite seinfeld episodes. you know the one.
anyhow. i was gonna write about how my first thought upon seeing my daughter in her nutcracker costume when i was spending nearly every waking moment volunteering in the children’s dressing room for a bunch of little angels (no pun there, they really were angels) was that she looked like foxy brown in her wig. they were supposed to look cherubic. i thought she looked like foxy brown.
i had all kinds of dressing room backstage stories to tell. one of which was the fact that i think i missed my calling as a stage manager. cause for the 3rd year volunteering for the ballet, i watch the stage manager and all that goes on backstage and am fascinated. and i think, shit – i missed my calling. it’s like being a fly on the wall back there, but the stage manager tells them all what to do. damn. i want that job.
one of my favorite fly on the wall scenes was when the little girls were all lined up waiting to go on stage, watching one of the principal dancers dip her shoes into some sandy grit that would prevent her pointe shoes from slipping. they asked her if dancing was fun. (these little girls have all been dancing for at least three years) she turned around with her big stage make-uppy smile and asked the girls what they thought. all the girls said that yes, it was fun. and the principal dancer agreed and said we wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t fun, right? i laughed to myself and thought i’ve heard that same statement about bike racing and thought that could be arguable at times. then she turned away to wait for her cue. and the little girls secretly reached out to touch the tulle layers of her beautiful rose skirt.
heck, i wanted to reach out and touch it too, but i figured that would be weird.
let’s see. what else? the shit hit the fan at my husbands’ company a while back - the same one that he and his business partner have been busting their asses over for ten years, and they’re still mopping up the stinky mess. now that was some blog-worthy material. but i’m not here to air that sort of dirty laundry. although shit, it was like a soap opera. good stuff. or, not so good, really. more like the creepy lifetime movie kinda stuff.
the sort of stuff that makes you drink a lot and wonder how you’ll get through christmas. but you get through it just fine. somehow. putting your wine in a fancy decanter that you got as a wedding gift just like they do in soap operas and lifetime movies helps.
kids who don’t get bummed out at all about how they didn’t really get anything that was on their list and in fact say it was the best christmas ever also helps.
a week before christmas, my mom came to visit for the first time in nearly two years for what was originally just going to be a quick weekend visit, but thanks to the snowstorm back east that delayed travel and closed airports she was able to extend her stay through the holiday.
she brought a book that my dad’s sister and her husband wrote. my dad is one of nine kids and the book chronicled his parents’ lineage and was full of stories of their childhoods and how they met and what life was like with nine kids. i’ll say it again. they had nine kids. and twenty grandchildren and i believe they went to every one of our high school graduations.
it included stories and letters written to my grandparents over the years from their kids and grandkids – one line from a friend of my grandmother’s talked about how there was “a new tole every year”.
i used to wonder how my grandparents did it. how did they hold it all together with nine kids?
reading the book just reiterated what i already knew. they held it together cause they laughed a lot, drank a bit, did what they loved- be it golfing or skiing (my grandfather still raced at age 73) or the weekly card game with the ladies. they had great friends, loved each other and had amazing kids. my grandmother also said the rosary every day of her life.
eh. i’ll take long hiatuses from writing because i feel like i don’t have anything “good” to write about or i’m just not feeling it – till i feel like i’m gonna explode if i don’t write about something. truth of the matter is; it might not always be blog worthy. it might not always be funny. it’s just life. all the good, bad and the lifetime movie shit-hitting-the-fan sorta shit. we just muddle through with each other, including the laughing a lot and drinking a lot and make the best of it.
some days i think i should look for those glow in the dark rosary beads my grandmother gave me all those years ago. they’re around here somewhere.