Is that a Lesbian League?

This past weekend, like most weekends in the summer, I was chilling with my villains at the pool. Since I worked for a few hours Saturday, most of the Buford Shore was there. I call them this because they are all huge, muscle rippling hotties who drink beer and laugh at my friends and I. What's not to love? I arrive at the pool and it's hotter than freaking Zambibia so most everyone is in the pool. My one friend is talking to the resident 'lesbian' we met also through the pool. I call her a lesbian for two reasons: 1) she is one, and 2) I can't remember her name. She has a partner who is butchier than most men I know, and can get a tad obnoxious sometimes. But again, Buford Shore was with us, so bring it ladies. The one half of the lesbian couple was there, and unbeknownst to all of us, she was a little drunky. She had a 4 pack of red wine and was on her last one. Not judging, I do beer, that's all I am pointing out. My dad drinks red wine, I know what it does to a person. Anyway, she is yapping like she is the social director and is talking faster than a speeding bullet. I am focused on getting my hot butt into the pool, and by hot I mean burning up, not being conceited. I hear her asking my friend to join her bowling league. Shelly, said friend, is hemming and hawwing and I am tryng to figure why. She was on a league before so I don't get her reticence. After about, um, 5 minutes of the lesbian begging her to be on her team, I ask "is this a lesbian league?" I'm the good friend trying to figure out why Shelly isn't wanting to bowl with her. Apparently, that was not the case, but it was a good laugh just the same.

Who says funerals are dull?

My dads family is from Montreal, Canada, eh? My BaBa and DziDzi, Ukrainian for grandma and grandpa, spoke Russian, Polish, little English, but mostly Ukranian. My dad did not share this language with my sister or myself, so when my Baba died, we hiked our cookies back to Montreal for the funeral. All my dads family was still there at the time and I guess it was a little inconvenient for them to bring all that pomp and circumstance down to the South, but whatever! Now, I will tell you that at the time, this was the first real funeral we had been to. It was open casket, naturally, and my sister and I kept poking and getting up close to Baba waiting for her to sit up and say "gotcha!" It never happened, but who's to say it couldn't have? My Baba was a beautiful woman. She was very fair, blonde, with amazing blue eyes. And she used to wear a turban, you know before turbans were affiliated with terrorists. After the viewing, so gross I cannot even tell you, this is why I am to be cremated. I don't want my grandkids waiting for me to sit up or grab them. Nightmares I tell you.
Anyway, we walk across the street to this very grand Orthodox Ukranian church. Very ornate, very beautiful and did I mention it was Ukranian? So, since us Americans didn't know Ukranian we were fairly lost. I would look to my cousins for when to stand, when to pray, when to not laugh. It's customary that when the Grandmother passes, all the granddaughters stand by the casket and hold a candle, not a fake candle, but real live fire. I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but I have the attention span of a gnat. Maybe even less. In meetings, I am counting tiles on the ceiling within 5 minutes.

Ok, so here we all are. My cousin Jennifer, my sister Debra, my cousin Darlene and Moi. Now, mind you I don't speak Ukranian, there is incense being thrown around, I'm trying to occupy my time and not disappoint my dad with my fidgeting. I'm looking at the glass windows, the decorations, very gold I might add, when the next thing I know, my sister is beating my head. Turns out while I was admiring the beauty of the church, I had let my hair too close to the candle and voila, I'm doing my best Michael Jackson impression.

Therapy by lawn mower

I am not going to lie, I love mowing my 3/4 acre yard. I do some great thinking while I'm out there sweating like a Cambodian prisoner. I believe if every Head of State/Country, mowed their lawns, great things could happen. I solve all my issues, right wrongs in others lives, heck, I can even figure out the square root of Pi, all while mowing. The solace I get once I put in my ear plugs, slap on my yard gloves, it's pure heaven. Really. When I was living at home with the "units", doing lawn work was on the lowest of the low of fun things to do. I have two sons, and if I paid them, or threatened their life, they would mow it, but I like the exercise, the sense of accomplishment I get from pushing that mower around. It takes me about 1.5 hours, but it can't be beat.  I focus on my task and then think of how to solve the worlds problems. On a really hot & sticky day, you can feel like you are cheating death by heart attack. Push yourself to see how much sweat you can lose, or how many more rows you can do before you take a drink. Sometimes, I can almost hear Death breathing on my neck. But I win everytime. So would you all!

Losing Weight Is Never Easy

When you start out being the "Pretty One" in the family, you only have one way to go. I have always been a tad on the thick side, not obese, but definately have some chubb. When I first divorced, I lost about 20 pounds really easy, and kept it off for about 7 years. I would walk, maybe skip a dinner here and there, and I was ok. Also, if I knew I had something to get ready for, I could really cut back eating a few days prior and voila, pounds be gone. Not after you hit 40ish. I say "ish" because I was early 40's and still ok. So I am always looking out for ways to correct my eating, or getting help. I eat good foods to begin with, so it's not my diet. I don't fry foods, I bake, grill or steam. The only thing fried I do eat are french fries, and it's not like I eat them every day all day long. I cut out dinners early in the process by accident. I would work late and not want to eat after 7 at night. Then my kids, who were younger obviously, would not want to eat dinner since mummy didn't. I didn't want DFACS calling on me, so I would eat smaller portions of the meals I fixed for them. And again, early 40's we were good. Now that I am closer to 50 than 40, my body is like 'yeah, I'm done trying to burn weight off chubby'.

 Two weeks ago I purchased the next 'cure' for fatness. I got some HCG drops and vitamin B12 drops. The trick with this cure is that it makes your body feel as if you are pregnant, restarts your metabolism and you don't even have to exercise like a banshee for the pounds to shed. My stomach in the last two weeks, well, it looks like I'm pregnant, so that part worked, but since I'm celibate and have been for say 6 years, and don't remember aliens invading my body, other than the drops, no pregnancy here. Plus, it's not a look I was going for at this point. I have aged well, as have most of my friends. I saw them last year at a high school reunion and couldn't believe how great we all looked. So happy day there. But, I want to get back to my smaller size and not have to starve myself or go to the gym 24 hours a day to do so. I had been sick and not really wanting to exercise, but still, the weight I've gained I know I can thank the drops for. I'm told the shots fare better, but are way pricier. I am on a budget.

My point is this, I guess, when you are marked as pretty, and it starts to fade, even a little, or you get jowly, it's not a happy place. And when one doesn't have celebrity money to hire chefs or personal trainers, it's a chore. My sister had it easier, she was the ugly duckling (her words) that grew into the swan. Well, she is still swan like and some of her friends look like Barbie's. I'm not kidding, they do. I almost wanted to poke them to see if they were real.

 To make sure my sons never have this stigma, I telll them how stupid and ugly they are daily. Just kidding. My two princes are the most handsome and the smartest 13 & 18 year olds I know.

Weekend in Chattanooga, whoop!

Now don't get too excited, this is a G rated story. My sister, kids and I went up this past weekend to celebrate our mother's birthday. I'm not going to share her age, but just know, it's old, but you would never guess her age. Anyhoo, we zoomed up in sister's vehicle. I will say this for German cars, as a driver they rock, when you are 6'3 or over an oompa loompa height, not so much. Smooth none the less, and I could read or play my Iphone games, so no complaining for me.

Our story begins with giving the birthday girl her gifts. I, like most people, either recycle my gift bags, or I purchase to store them for later use. Such is the case with mum's gift. When she got to the end, mum asked me where I got this lovely bag from, I told her and then she shared it not only held her gift, but a roach carcass as well. I'm thinking, bonus, where's the chocolate? however, she didn't feel as excited, but it was good humor and my sister's bag offered no dead insects, so it was obvious my gift won. I gave her this great 'sippy' cup we sell at work. It's 24oz and it doesn't sweat for cold or burn for hot liquid. AND it has a lid. As we age we need these things, I'm not quite that elderly and I appreciate a good top on my drinks. Fade to dinner with all of us. Mum picked the eatery and all of us liked it, unusual as my second son isn't as easy to please when we dine out. BK was not an option for grandma. Dinner was yummy, our server Tim, seemed scared of our table, but we are used to that. My mother can be quite the handful when she goes out. Somewhat demanding. She asked Tim for butter I don't know how many times, and when he finally brought it back, it was a huge plate stocked full of butter pats. Take that birthday girl. And don't worry about waste, she stuffed the butter pats in her purse and they surfaced on our breakfast table. Imagine our horror. (This is me rolling my eyes, with a big open mouth) Now my children know that not only are their grandparents crazy, they steal too. Great lesson! In our family we have several convo's happening at once. We don't find this unusual but outsiders do. Since my dad and us girls had hearing problems, there was a lot of "what?" going on as we grew up. Now, we just spin our heads around like Linda Blair. This convo was no exception. We are busy chatting away, paying the bill, etc. When my dad, who at this point is standing up because he is ready to go, duh, said, "did you hear about Michael Vick?" we all stopped and looked at him, like he just said Beetlegeuse. To which all of us replied "WHAT????" We said the word Dick and he heard Vick and there we are. Perhaps you had to be there.....

How I adore my family

As much as I may complain about my parents, I would not trade them for another pair. They made me who I am, who my sister is. Without them, we wouldn't be these amazingly funny, self deprecating, strong women. I know in my past, some men had issue with this, but if you are strong enough in yourself then you can take a strong woman beside you. I am raising my two sons to be strong, independent young men. And so far so good. Both are hilarious, and they "get" the family and appreciate it for what it is. A loving, sometimes disfunctional, but always there for you, unit. You can't ask for more than that. We all have our faults, not me of course, but them. And we either accept this or we don't. Just like with friends or people we meet day to day. A true friend loves you for your faults, but still stands by you when needed. I know I have faultered on that in the past. I hold my friends up to such high standards, that when I think they disappoint me, which again, it's only my view, I get sad for them. I think they are so much better than that. Truthfully, that's not fair. I cannot put my friends on pedestals and then blame them when they fall. No one can meet up to those standards and it's unfair to ask that. With age I have learned these lessons, not that I change easily, but I at least try, and really, isn't that all any of us can ask?

Wednesday, and nothing rhymes with it

Greetings all!

I hope everyone has had a lovely, stressfree week so far??? No, well, sit back, relax, and don't drink or eat while reading my thoughts. I am not responsible for choking or gagging on food or drinks. (that sould satisfy my lawyer).

Today was a normal cranking out the work, day at the place of business. Good for me and my bills. :)

I told you all I had two guinea pigs, well, I just got the male, and last Friday he got his goodies cut so we won't have little baby piggies as gifts. As cute as they are, I don't need anymore, and my friends don't want them as Christmas presents. Just doing my part to keep the animal race from blossoming out of control. However, every time I see the Kia Soul ad, and the Hamsters are jamming with their bling and music, I can't help but think the world would be so cute. Anyway, Darwin, male piggy, is healing nicely from his sensitive surgery. And I've been giving him meds to keep him painfree and infection free. In order to do this, my vet suggested I wrap him up like a burrito. Now, when she first said that I was nodding my head and saying 'mmhm, mmhm' thinking to myself this woman is on crack. These animals are quite fast in movement and jerking. The first day my gal pal assisted me. I held him and she squirted the liquid into his tiny, and I do mean tiny mouth. Apparently, we had not wrapped him tight enough, as his head was twisting and jerking like he was going to spit Green Pea soup at us. Side bar: Neither of us worked at Taco Bell or Del Taco in our formative years, so we were clueless. I could have asked my Guatemalen neighbors, but the last time I saw them, they were getting high and I was mowing my yard. In a white tank, after hitting the sprinkler because it was so bloody hot. So you can see why I might hesistate to ask them over to my casa? But 4 days later, and I am the burrito queen. I almost want to have a Derby or Rodeo where "guinea pig rolling" is a feat. Good times. Now, before you all call PETA, Darwin was not harmed and I did roll him slowly for his protection.

This weekend we are traveling to Chattanooga for my mother's birthday celebration. My sister will be driving and my two offspring will be joining us. They are so much easier to travel with now as they are older. My "heir" has always been a dream on the road, but once you get to your destination, he won't sleep. The "spare" was a nightmare in a carseat, but once you reached your spot, he would sleep like the lamb he is. Another good with the bad scenario. I thoroughly enjoyed both of my sons as they were babies and toddlers. Pre-Teens? Eh, I could live without that again, but I am very proud of how caring, generous, helpful, smart and compassionate they both are. Of course no child is perfect, I don't care what my mother says. PIEW is her Perfect In Every Way. Whatever lady, no one is and not even I am. I know I am shockingly close, but agan, first borns do have their genius.

I of course, will jot down every memorable comment my kids, dad, mother make and share them with you. Hope everyone has a safe and cool air conditioned rest of the week.

A few things you all should know

For starters; I create my own words, have been doing it for years. My family calls it the "Alanary". Catchy, right? I know, my family is quite amusing, as you will read in the future. I am a divorced woman with two cherished sons, they will either be called "hoodlums" or 'heir and the spare". Not going to lie, I stole that from Princess Diana. I was a year younger than her, but for some reason, felt connected to her. And not in a weirdo way. She had two sons she would die for, I do as well, she had a less than happy marriage, ditto. However, my mother in law was not the Queen, she was a farmer in Minnesota, but I digress.

For the last 16 years, I have worked for a large company and I truly love my job. I know a lot of us cannot say that, but I do. It's diverse enough on a daily basis, that a Sagittarius like me, doesn't get bored. Yep, I threw out the horoscope. I believe in Psychics, Mediums, Ghosts and paranormal. I have always been fascinated with this belief we are not alone and when we pass, we don't die. Keeps me happy to know that should I leave my sons, I can at least watch over them, or look up, where
ever I land. :)

Ok, so what else? I have a very sarcastic sense of humor, that isn't my fault. I have been this way since I could remember. In 5th grade, I clearly recall a boy wanting to beat me up for my mouth. Well guess what? I've yet to get beaten up, and my mouth is still sassy. I grew up a young lass in Southern Florida. North Palm Beach to be specific. I loved that town, and still do. My goal is to return once my 'hoodlums' see how I did that?, complete school. I have one sibling, a sister who is 10 years younger than me, but we both act the same age. I will let you guess whether that's mature or not. We aren't childish, but we can have fun doing silly things that harm no one but ourselves. My parents are a unique couple. Mum had a priviledged upbringing in Syracuse, NY. I like to think Tom Cruise and I were born in the same hospital. He was in July, me in November. But I'll keep moving, and no, I do not jump on couches to declare my love for another human being, a Panda bear, naturally. Who wouldn't? Anywaaaaaayyy, my father came to Syracuse from the lovely country called Canada. He was a dancer for Arthur Murray dance studios when they met. They met in December 1961, married January 1962, and moi was born November 1962. However, January was the elope date, imagine my horror when I was dusting at 11 years old, (because my mum, like I'm sure most used me as her cleaning woman) and saw the Wedding Announcement date of April 1962. I will admit, math is not my forte, but even this was clear to Stevie Wonder. My beloved grandmother almost had a heart attack along with me, the thought of me thinkng I was a 'bastard" was too much for Beulah. But mum cleared it up rght away. My parents were soooo in love they eloped to South Carolina, to get married. Upon returning to Syrcacuse, Beulah, was not happy and said 'it wasn't proper, and no daughter of hers was going to elope' so they had the April shindig. If you look at the wedding photos, you can sort of see me smiling under the gown. :)

Ok, so one sister, 10 years younger, hoards of great friends,  two teenage sons. One is starting college this fall, and the other is a Senior at his Middle School. Not to sound like grandpa Joe, but when I was in school, we had Elementary, Jr High and then High School. All equally horrible, you remember I had boys wanting to beat me up? Every grade report was the same too, "Alana does not play well with others". Actually, Alana does play well with others, when she can hear them. At the age of 16, we found out that thanks to my dad's side we have nerve damage in the ears. Lucky us. So either I was a snob who didn't say hi to people, or I made comments not fully hearing the convo, thus the 'beat you up' guy. You will remember the hearing issue, because it leads to lovely family dinners with the parents. Since this came from my dad's side, and he is almost 74, his ears are about as good and Helen Keller's were. My mum had perfect hearing, much to my dismay, so she literally yells or says things multiple times. Oh, and there are plenty of under the breath comments. Now, the good part of being hearing impaired? I am a kickass girlfriend if you need to know what the coach is yelling on the sidelines at 4th and goal.....The beauty of me.

Until we meet again. Thanks for stopping by and I hope you laughed out loud a few times.