you wanted more ...

So these are my two goof balls.

Corey was in a little play at school. I came up with his costume about a half hour before he needed it. It was a historical play. He was great. Drama is in his blood. This is the after shot.














This is my other entertainer. He would kill me if he knew that I posted this picture. Let's not tell him shall we? He NEVER wears his hat this way, because 1 he has class and 2 I would slap him up side his head.















And this is a game of tag the day we went to LA for the day to look at planes and eat lots of good food. John found a park next to LAX where the planes land over the top of you. Very cool.

Visual Aide ...

So many of you have read about the people in my everyday life, but have never seen them. Well now you have visuals!!!!!

First and most important, my son Corey. The swimmer. He's looking for his time/place.


Corey with his game face ... Corey the cuddle bug (the furry one is his dog Milo.)

This is John. John loves planes. See John with his plane. (great shot right? that would be mine!)
In the sunglasses we have Denise and in the ball cap we have me. Our friend Penny calls her my heterosexual life partner. :)

More to come :)

Happy Birthday Mom !!!!

Today is my mom's birthday! Should I tell you how old she is? Perhaps not. After all, you are expected to be nice to someone on their birthday.
Remember when you thought your mom would stay young and beautiful forever? Well mine did! Truely. But she has gotten a little goofy. Guess she is allowed. Besides, she can always blame it on "THE CHANGE!"
She is a great mom and a wonderful grandmother. She is turning into one fireball of a woman. The older she gets, the bolder and louder she gets as well. What ever you do, don't cut her off in traffic or take your sweet time crossing the street...
"Stroll along fat man!!!!!!"
I hope I look as young as my mom at ..... her age.
Happy Birthday Mom ...
Did the stripper show up yet?
;)

Princess and the Pea

So I never really read that fairy tale growing up. But I know the jest of it. And I can relate to it pretty well. In theory.
John and I have been sleeping in a Queen sized bed. It hasn't gone too well.
First we are both very used to sleeping alone. We are both used to having the sleeping conditions a certain way. There are some major differences in how we sleep.
1. I sleep under a sheet, a blanket, and a comforter. He sleeps out of the covers, until some time in the middle of the night, usually around 1 am, when he wants either just a sheet or the blanket, but no comforter.
2. I sleep curled up, and rarely on my back. He sleeps with a pillow between the knees.
3. I am a timid sleeper, and he is an aggressive one.
So this is all compounded by the following situation.
He goes to bed around 8 at night. He gets up at 4 am. I go to bed around 10 or 11 sometimes 3 am. It all depends. So when I come to bed, he is on top of the covers, it is pitch dark, and he has 3/4 of the bed occupied. I struggle to pull enough cover out from under him to crawl under, while trying to squeeze onto the postage stamp size section of the bed left. Because he sleeps hot, all of the covers eventually end up piled on top of me in a heap. Heavy and hot. Every time he rolls over it is a production because he has to adjust the pillow between his knees. Then around 1 in the morning I am assaulted by the swinging arm that tears some of the covers from me.
There is not enough room in the bed for us both to sleep in our favorite positions. So because I am the less aggressive sleeper I end up on one side, unable to roll over unless I get out of bed and get back in facing the other way. And in his defense, I snore, a lot and loudly. PLUS the bed was too soft, we both like a firm bed. With two people in it, you tend to stay in one area and it tends to sink, a little.
Soooo.... the queen was not working. The sad thing was that it is only like a year old and I had the perfect bed frame. But, space was needed, for everyone's health and sanity.
Well my parents have a king bed that is less than two years old and they bought a new one. They kindly gave us their old one. Great!!!!!!! Bigger ='s better right?
Uh, Huston we have a problem. It is WAY TOO SOFT. So soft , and I AM NOT EXAGERATING, that when we are both in it, we sink so low that it actually raises the middle. It is like being swallowed by quick sand. We have to send smoke signals to get out. It is great that there is so much room. But I can't exactly use it. The first morning John came to my side of the bed to say good-bye. "Cindy you can move over, there is plenty of room, it's a bigger bed." I yell out from my hole, "I can't, I am stuck in this hole. Once I get in, that's it." To which he laughed.
But I wasn't kidding. And another unforeseen problem was that with the smaller bed due to lack of space unintentional cuddling would occur. It couldn't be avoided. But now, I can't even see John, let alone curl up to him.
Now I am just waiting 'til next tax return so that we can get a bed that is just right for us.
I guess this story better reflects Goldie and the Three Bears.

Quick Trip

I am headed to Sacramento today. Jan is having some major surgury next week and I want to spend a little time with her before hand. The biggest reason is that after surgury she will not be able to have company for a couple of months. They are performing a delicate heart surgury and have to crack open her chest to do it. That means months of rest, to heal.
I adore Jan and look forward to spending some time with her. For those of you who do not know, Jan is my Dad's first wife. I am soooo lucky that she wanted to know me, and not just spend time with her two sons. I am also very lucky that my mom was willing to share me a little.
So, thanks to John and his wonderful Skywest benefits, I can fly to Sac for free, see Jan and Whitey and probably my brother Joe and Shalene. It will be a quick trip, but worth every effort to get there.

The biggest creep of all

So as I have already explained, we deal with some annoying, strange, rude people in the world of retail. That is a given. And we even have creepy people too. The ones that you would avoid at the bus stop. The ones that make you cling to your children. The kind that you pray you don't see in the parking lot on the way to your car. I can accept and even handle that. But the night before last, I dealt with the creepiest, most disgusting character of all. Even more nasty that the person who used our fitting room to poo. (Yes ladies and gentlemen... an adult took an adult dump on the bench in one of our fitting rooms. True and horrible story. How absolutely nasty and foul is that. I mean how sick in the head do you have to be to squat on a bench and crap. Even the homeless find an ally or use a public bathroom. This person is either very mentally ill or just...well just ill. That's it. Sick, nasty, horrid people who do things that gross need serious help. But I digress ... )
I was working the closing shift with a very small crew of people. That means you work fast and there is no time to repeat work. Closing is no easy task. Every thing that people misplace through out the day, people return, people change their minds on, people open, people unfold, and people screw up, you have to fix. You try to do it through out the day, but it is constant. One of the worst areas for this is soft home.
This is not my area, but when there is no one scheduled there I fill in. That is the way it works. Plus the woman in charge of that area is a real mean slave driver who will come down on me hard if it isn't perfect when she comes in the following morning. (Just kidding Kimmy Kim Kim. She is actually a very funny, laid back, easy going gal who makes me laugh and enjoy my day, thus motivating me to do well in her section on her behalf to make her day easier. Again I digress...)
So I have already re-organized the sheets, put comforters back in their place, re-filed the throw pillows, and have moved on to towels. Now, for those of you who have ever shopped at a decent store with towels, I am sure you have noticed that you can never ever get them folded back the way they had them. That is because there is a trick to how they are done (I would tell you but then we wouldn't have the joy of refolding dozens of towels every day.) So I was on my fourth row of towels when the freaky, gross, nasty creep suddenly appeared after store hours.
I didn't see him at first. But I felt this tickle on my hand. I look down and there he was. A blond and tan penny sized spider.
Ok so for those of you who know me, and pretty much most of you do, really well, you know this is a very very very bad thing. I can handle most things. Have jerk boyfriend, send him my way, loud angry customer, not a problem. Medical emergency with blood and gore... I'm your cool and collected Nancy nurse. Snakes, rats, mice...got that under control. But bugs in general, not so much. And spiders. Oh spiders. I have very little control of my bodily functions with spiders. Live, on TV, or in a picture I CAN NOT look at them. (If on Fear Factor, and given the choice, I would rather eat cow eyes while in a sealed coffin with snakes, suspended a hundred feet in the air by a stunt helicopter on a windy day, then to spend 1 minute with a spider. That is no exaggeration.)
So with speed and agility that even Jackie Chan could not muster, I shake the spider off my hand and jump back 5 feet. I began to gag, and felt the vomit rising. I get a small grip, take a few breaths, control the nausea, and politely call for help. I do the spaz dance when it is killed and blink back the tears while I try feverishly to rub the feeling of that spider off my hand. Then I do the brave and dedicated thing. I went back to folding the same towels.
Kim is a very lucky woman that I did not loose my insides all over her towels. Imagine trying to explain that loss in revenue.
And, all the weeks of being the cool, calm, strong, smart employee, is blown to shreds as I showed my weakness in one instant and have now dinged my untarnished armor.

Mom, why didn't you tell me...??????

As you grow from new born to adult, your mother teaches you sooooo many things. And we all know what those fundamental basics are. Plus, she teaches us about love, relationships, life, make-up, manners, and even about mothering.
But what about the crap she did not tell you about?
Like the fact that by the time I was 31 I would have to look for push up bra's. Not because I am flat chested, but because my breast seem to be afraid of my shoulders, and are running to my belly button for safety.
Or that when you find your first gray hair you should not pluck it because 11 more will grow in its place.
She warned us about the foods that will go from feeding a craving, to now creating their on zip code on our hips. But why didn't she tell us about the foods that were once harmless will now give us heart burn so intense we feel like we performed a fire swallowing act at the freak show circus.
Why did I find out on my own, with no warning from dear old mom, that every time I laugh, sneeze, or God forbid cough, that I would wet myself a little. What the hell is that? You mean to tell me that despite going to the bathroom 10 minutes ago, that I will be leaving pee stains in my panties everytime I snicker or clear my throat?
And if you knew that, why, while teaching me how to hide a grease stain on my blouse, did you not teach me how to hide the puddle starting at my inseam and ending at my sock that was caused by a coughing fit?
Why wasn't I warned that even a glass of water will make me gassy? I, the most modest person on the planet about bodily functions and noises, now ends up in cold sweats trying to contain air bubbles brewing inside my lower belly because I dared to eat a Tic-Tac!!!!
And at what age did my brain click over from fashion to function? Huh Mom? Why didn't she warn us that we would go from cute little panties and lace bras to granny underwear and over the shoulder boulder holders?
Why wasn't mom busy preparing us for these things rather than how to properly fold a napkin? I would like to know the creative way to cross my legs while coughing to disguise the fact that I am hoping to hold my bladder in it's place.
Did they not share these things with us because it was taboo for their generation? Maybe it was revenge for rolling our eyes every time they did try to tell us something. OR, could it be, that we wouldn't believe them until it happened?
Whatever the reason it sucks. And I would like to know if there are any more surprises waiting for me before the age of 40?