Pomp and Circumstance

Tomorrow is the big wedding day for Hannah's family. I have nothing to wear though I am not freaking out because this wedding is not about me or what I am wearing and I think it's easy to get lost in all of the pomp and circumstance. I've not had my nails done nor had a nip or tuck. I may pluck a few hairs and lordy everyone knows the outer edges of my nose are hairless, like a baby's bum-bum on the center of my face. No short people will be appalled looking up at my face unless they are blocked by my chin first.

I've not spent a nickel on a new outfit. I've no make-up or hairpiece. No new earrings. I heard Oprah once say that the average person spends about 20 seconds looking at another person - as long as their breasts aren't hanging out (I added the breast part) so I figure no matter what I have on, no one will look at me past 20 seconds and by that time, I'll be giving them the evil eye for looking at me. I'm not sure I ever notice what anyone else is wearing. I've always been sort of clueless that way. I forget to compliment people on their new hairstyles or the latest outfit. Though I *do* notice when someone is not wearing anything -- though not for long. Hannah will be wearing her "wedding" dress and walking down the isle. I told her to remember that after the wedding is over, it's open bar. Yay! All the maraschino cherries (sulfur dioxide and FD& C red 40) a four year old can eat!

Speaking of open bar, we went out last night with a group of people. My Hawaiian son, Danny (is here for the wedding), my friend, J, my sister who needs to stay drunk to endure wedding pressures and her husband. We know the waitress. She's a young thang - barely 21 years old though sweet as can be and very influential with the bartender. But she had called-in sick! Dammit. I asked her whereabouts to the other waitress and in doing so, met her roommate, Alley, another sweetie pie. So Alley was our waitress for the evening. We ordered drinks. I ask Alley how their trip to "Vegas" went last week. She told me they went to a strip club and that she wasn't into it. The strippers were really aggressive, she said. Ewww. As Hannah and I would say (to her parents disapproval), "caca-doodie." Alley said the guys who were stripping grab the back of your head, shoving your head toward their thong-ed (thank goodness!) penis and then demand $20 from you for the neck-wrenching shove. Ugh. I couldn't deal with that. I'm sure my heart would give out or I'd vomit. I am so glad I am old(er) if that's the real excuse/reason I don't go to male strip clubs. That, and the fact that I can't physically afford to be in traction for long.

It's good to have my son back home for awhile. I have not seen him in about 3 years. He can be kind of high maintenance but what kid isn't? Actually anyone inside my house other than me, I consider high maintenance. If you're breathing on your own that's good enough for me, come for a visit. He's only here until next weekend. He's helping with work at home while I'm blogging working at work.

Hannah was over the other day and brought one of her preschool graduation photos. Looking at her in her cap and gown reminded me of how important it is to graduate except I don't recall anyone making a big deal about graduating preschool though now it seems to be the rage. I asked if she wanted me to rent a limo for her graduation? She replied, repeating my phrase back to me, "rent a limo...," she giggled.  I'm sure she knows what I'm talking about. When my sons graduated middle school a friend's mom rented a limo. I was incredulous. At the time I wondered how the parents would top the limo come high school graduation? Perhaps a yacht or renting a blimp is in order. Good thing I graduated from trying to keep up with the Jones-es.

Forgetting to Remember

I got my hair cut and re-dyed whimsical for that coffee shop weirdo with the prostate cancer story. That very same day I had my nose hair waxed (yes, weird! weird! and very weird to experience - you can make air holes in the wax before it hardens and covers your nose holes. Let me know if you want more description) for the first time. Weird especially when she explained that she had waxed her own nose hairs before attending a nose-hair waxing conference though she neglected to get all the blue wax out of her nose. Blue wax stuffed up inside a nose probably looks like as bad as you can imagine. Sexy! She said after a few hours another nose hair waxing conference attendee finally mentioned the "thing in your nose" to her. How to make friends and influence people.


I bought a new used car but have not picked it up yet. 


I am looking for a renter for my downstairs apartment. It's approximately 800 sq ft and has lovely canyon views, a private entrance and deck. Beautiful, peaceful, serene. 420 friendly!


I petted my pain in the butt cat. 


I met a friend for drinks and dinner. We had a long discussion. We both teared up. We drank too much. 


I talked with my mom through ichat. She has been sick. She wants me to buy a bed for the extra bedroom but I keep forgetting to ask her what kind of bed? I finally asked her today. 


I think I may be hoarder though so far there are only a few piles. I'm not exactly sure that the piles of hoarded things belong to me though so I'm not going to try out for any reality hoarding show yet.


Through an organization with which I volunteer I met a woman diagnosed with renal cancer. No one can wave a magic wand. There's no secret password on how to get through this transition from our perception of healthy to not so healthy. I can't talk her out of her suffering (much like I try to do to myself). A cancer patient must be sad; it's the law. When the sadness subsides, you have to get back to life or death, depending. 




I had an upper GI. I was in the waiting room with a bunch of old people. I am at that age where I think I'm the only young-ish person in the waiting room, looking around and seeing all those chin whiskers, gray hairs, bald heads, housecoats, sweat pants and slippers (and then seeing myself in the mirror wearing, chin whiskers, gray hairs, housecoats, slippers). Everyone in the waiting room is thinking the exact same thing I'm thinking - they are the youngest person in the waiting room -- except for my former bf's neighbor, Bud, who was  waiting in the waiting room looking befuddled. He's mid to late 80s now. He told the technician he was there because his doctor says he has "memory problems." I decided not to say anything to Bud and remind him that we once knew each other and talked usually weekly. A discussion with me might have tested his memory. But I'm thinking his memory problems might not be all that bad if he remembered to go to the doctor.

Doctor! Doctor! Give Me the News

I went to the gynecological oncologist today to get my 6 month feel-up. "Remember if you're not getting a rectal, you're not getting your monies worth." I am, he told me, two and a half years post diagnosis. The longer you live... well, the longer you live. I'm just glad someone is keeping track.

The doctor was a half hour late in arriving after completing rounds. Upon entering the examination room, he immediately started speaking French, then explaining how I should respond to him in French (and really I should get one of those little French maid costumes and scare that him to death (by forcing him to wear it). Then we discussed how upbeat I am because I am incredibly upbeat; how much fun he has when I am in his office by comparison to the other grumpy, cancery, dying patients. 

He asked me how I was doing? I told him I have no pains though I did have a gain, and hoped the gain was the weight of my shoes. Alas.

I guess he's not ready to have an affair with me (and fly me to his villa in Rome) because my next appointment isn't scheduled until October. His actual words, "Any sooner and they get suspicious." Dammit.

I'm not sure he has the first clue what he's missing.

Friends With Benefits

I haven't mentioned last weekend's bridal shower mostly because I've been on a cake-high for days. But I decided after attending the shower that a person has to have good self-esteem to attend their own shower. Especially if a person invites a list of friends that turn out to be no shows. You would have thought this bridal shower was a tupperware party for the lack of turnout.

I went to the lingerie shower (with my personally selected, premium bridal shower gift of mammoth-sized, K-Mart, granny underooskies) which was scheduled Sunday rather than Saturday to allow the majority of invited friends to attend, most of whom work on Saturdays. An evite was sent out and maybe that was part of the problem - using Evite, and in addition to using evite, inviting people to a party can present a problem. Maybe some people don't take evites as seriously as they might a real paper invitation. I'm not sure - my experience has been that sometimes people don't even open an evite, and when I say people, I mean me. And sometimes the evites go into your junk folder. Maybe your junk folder is like a magic genie that way...heck if it goes into your junk, it's junk.

I didn't mind the turnout because fewer invitees always means more cake for me though watching the bride-to-be, and wondering if she was questioning why she had to spend yet more time with her mother, two aunts, a grandmother and her four year old daughter when the list of invitees included at least twenty-five young women  -- was sort of painful for me. I felt bad for her. Of course my pain was all projected. But what kind of friends are these? Though in all fairness, two of her bridesmaids attended. So other than immediate family, two friends attended. Two.


Around the time I was turning 50 (back in the days of yore and horses and buggies), I was asked if I wanted a surprise party, and aside from the element of surprise dashed in that one instant, I was concerned that there was a possibly that no one would show up so I said 'no, thanks.' I'm not that courageous. I'd rather go through chemo.


I have friends (though I like to think I'm selective) (or at least selectivity is my excuse for why I have so few friends), and some of them are good friends though what if someone gave me a party or a shower and my good friends RSVP'd and then, they didn't show? I'd panic at my ineptitude of my friend picking. I don't want to know that the people I've chosen as friends don't care enough to show up. Or is not attending an event really about caring enough? I mean, I suppose they could be busy or someone could have died or there could have been a terrible flood, a storm, a flat tire or some other made-up at the last minute legitimate excuse. I suppose. I'd rather not and say I did than risk what remains of my self-esteem on inviting a group of people that *I* chose if those friends are the no-showing kind of friends such as the friends invited to this bridal shower. Maybe part of my panic is because I'm over 50 now and don't have much time left to pick out a slew of new friends at my age. (Really does this have anything to do with anyone but me?) My polite niece didn't say a word about her "friends" lack of attendance (well, not many words though I think she was slightly disappointed) even when I volunteered to go with her to work on Monday to assist her no-showing friends with carrying in the gifts from their cars that they could not be bothered to bring to the bridal shower on Sunday.


Post bridal shower, my sister developed a quick theory that went something like this:


Unless an invitee is a true friend (and really, what does true mean?) (and who's definition of the word true do we use to define true?) who will attend a shower-type event regardless, other invitees may choose not to attend a shower-type event unless they somehow perceive benefit to attending. Examples of benefits include such things as an open bar, free food, CAKE! (I mean, come on!), a stripper, and the ultimate party coup - a fuzzy pink party gift bag containing bubbles, crayons, assorted candies, a seasonal Pez™ dispenser with an extra pack of  Pez™ candy and a selection of tiny plastic toys made in China --  which at the age of this crowd, no one provides anymore. (The cake part of the theory was added by me.)


Seriously there's really no benefit to watching a bride open gifts with which you spend more of your hard-earned money knowing you'll have to spend even more money for the wedding gift a few weeks away. I'm the aunt - I'm supposed to be nice. And though the shower was scheduled for 11 a.m. on a Sunday in order to accommodate a less-than-optimum list of "friends," there is simply no benefit to them in having to wake up before 2pm when they're most likely nursing hangovers from Saturday night.


The bachelorette party has been planned for this weekend and none of the bride's female relatives are invited because if we attended we'd throw-up when the stripper music starts. Only the bride's friends are invited. I hope for the sake of my niece that most of her evited friends turn out to be true friends who know the value of unlimited booze and a naked man with a feather decoration on the end of his penis are benefit enough to make their attendance worthwhile. Offering hope for any future parties held in my honor, the first person on my evite list is gonna be a stripper because I. am. not. going to take any chances.

Time Waits for No One

My tax guy is always late for our appointment and yesterday was no exception. I got a phone call 15 minutes prior to my appointment informing me that he was running about 15 minutes behind. I said to the caller, "He's always late. I'm going to Peet's for coffee." I go to Peet's. I order my coffee. I stand aside and wait for the barista to call out my name.

An older man walks over to me and asks: "How are you? I love the blond part of your hair. It's so whimsical." Who even uses that word?! Not a hairdresser! Please let whimsical be a good thing. I thought it was a sweet compliment. I told him my hair is 'post-chemo' hair though everything for now is post-chemo so maybe this is a signal to drop that part of my story.

So we talk about cancer. He has prostate. I had uterine. We exchange details, some graphic, not too bad. He talks about prostate cancer symptoms, what to look for, and then proceeds to talk about what it's like to have an orgasm now. I didn't ask. At this point I'm kinda thinking this must be how Hannah felt when she saw my creepy toes. I'm considering holding up my hand to block any more of this discussion, telling this guy that he's creeping me out but I also know this kind of conversation is more typical of cancer patients, not orgasm discussions necessarily though frank discussions.

Cancer patients have a way of cutting through the bullshit because bullshitting takes time and cancer patients know first-hand - time is limited. I figure this guy's either trying to see how much I can take before I walk away or he's just giving me the facts. I recently found out that my uncle has prostate cancer so I was intrigued with what this man had to say sans orgasm -- though if I were a urologist I'd probably be interested in his orgasms especially the burning part. Alas I am me, and we don't care to hear (this much) about other people's burning sensations. I started swooning, feeling as though I might hit the floor depending on the direction with which this discussion proceeds. Almost as quickly as the fire discussion ramped up, it burned out. Maybe it was the look of incredulity upon my face; an aging Dalmatian.

Overall this cancer slash orgasm talk was an interesting discussion to have with a total and complete stranger. It came time for me to leave Peet's regardless of how late my tax man might be. As I excused myself, the stranger told me his name. Dave. He asked my name. (Hildegaard) He's married (Thank goodness - or I'd probably still be listening to the burning orgasm discussion) and lives right next to Peet's. (Yay!) We said our goodbyes. I started to walk out into the pouring rain while another man held the door open for me and offered to pull the hood up on my raincoat. I told him no. If he'd touched me, I probably would have screamed.

I drove over to the tax man's office -- still in a downpour. I wait a few more minutes outside. Soon the tax man arrives. And I say jokingly, "You're late!" And he says, "No, you're late! You should have been here in February!" Considering it's the week of April 15th and taxes are due on the 15th, he had a point though if I'd seen him in February, I'd have missed meeting Dave and our discussing his hot topic.

Dreams of the Everyday Housewife

The past few months have been a season of weddings around here. Lots of talk, planning, lists, details, and nausea. To date I have only been a witness, and unfortunately for all involved, I'm not a silent witness. One wedding down, one to go. This next wedding is the big one! Hannah's mother is getting married. Hannah's mother is my niece. During the first wedding I took care of Hannah for about 24 hours. I don't know if babysitting was the reason I wasn't invited or if they know I have a bad attitude. Ask me if I care. Being with Hannah is more fun than attending a wedding. Quite frankly, I'd rather spend time with Hannah than the people that got married. Hannah's a cheap date. She doesn't need to get drunk in order to have a good time unlike many middle-aged people I've met.

This Sunday I'm attending a lingerie shower for Hannah's mother. This whole marriage thing is done so differently nowadays. People have babies first and search for a dad later. A couple will live together for years before getting married. They have everything they need or could possibly want except a live-in nanny and most couples can't afford the luxury of a nanny. If they could afford the nanny, the dad that took so much time to locate, would probably run off with her and leave the mom back where she was with the child, no dad and a house full of blenders, crystal stemware and chafing dishes. (Don't know about you but I *never* needed a dish to get chafed.)

So the other auntie (brave or foolish? - you decide) is giving a lingerie shower. Since I only wear ole lady army underwear, the thought of a lingerie shower gives me the heebie jeebies. I would hate for my friends to pick out my underwear (as I'm sure they'd hate it too). It's not easy buying undies for other people. What size do you pick? One Size Fits All?  Years ago I tried on a thong and I'm still looking for it!  Not too long ago, a friend bought me something sexy in size huge, and I've yet to wear the thing. It's red trimmed with animal print. Um...(Hey, I could wrap this up and give to my niece!)  With my friends, I could see the return on a lingerie shower. I'd get a selection of fuzzy bathrobes, animal-print thongs (one for each butt cheek), a Slanket™, blajamas, all items I'd either want to return or give to charity. I'm not very good at accepting gifts. In fact, if there is a crowd around, I'll start handing out gifts as I open them.

So while shopping for the lingerie I bought some very nice, very sexy things for the actual shower gift though I am going to plead that my niece not open these saucy thangs in front of me. I used to change her diaper!  While inside the store, I felt I had to explain to the sales people that I was buying these scanties as a gift - just in case the store clerk thought I was completely clueless about my own size. After buying lingerie, I drove to Goodwill. I then found a totally sexy housecoat for just under sex six bucks to fake out the bride to be. Made of blue and white seersucker, buttoned-up incorrectly, a stain running down the front, and wreaking of Cashmere Bouquet - now we're talking some lingerie!  Then by chance I found a hair-dressing doll head and bought it for Hannah. I figure when Hannah tires of her special gift, (in two minutes) I'll tape the head to my car passenger seat and use the carpool lane. This way I'll have someone other than my cat with which to talk and another cheap date aside from Hannah.

After the coup at Goodwill -- purchasing quality gifts, I walked through one more store with my seersucker housecoat draped casually over my arm, fiercely clutching the doll-head to my bosom, looking lost, a little nutty, dazed and befuddled much like the look on the faces of married couples months after the wedding when they wonder WTF they ever saw in that person?

Rogue's Missing Bonnet

Rogue spent the past several days looking for a very special Easter bonnet that she's sure (as only a young child can be) was hidden by her wicked sister. The punishment seen in this photo; a Rogue lecture.


Get behind me and pay attention!

Rogue celebrated Easter with strangers. Though Rogue may have been the most strange in attendance. Then to top off the stranger dilemma, the See's Easter bunny never showed, thus another nail in the planning committee's coffin.

Rogue's been feeling surly. First the missing bonnet had her in a snit. After many intense days of searching sans See's, Rogue called a milliner who happily whipped up another bonnet replete with fashionable gingham for next year's Easter celebration which Rogue hopes to be more open-minded about. Plus she will send numerous communiqués' to the See's Easter bunny for the next 12 months or he may find himself sitting behind her for next year's lecture.

They've Paved Paradise

As a child, I was forced to stay inside the house from 1 p.m. until 3 p.m. on Good Friday because my mother was very religious. We'd sit inside, eating hot-cross buns, reading bible stories about Jesus or quotations from something religious. I don't have my facts correct, but I think these two hours was the time it took for Jesus to die on the cross, depending on your source and I'm too lazy to look it up. Staying in the house for two hours was our annual attempt at experiencing similar suffering to what we thought Jesus suffered. I remember feeling tormented. I was probably a selfish brat.

Work was extra quiet today with most people at the end of their spring break or starting the holiday weekend early. I wanted to get a few items at the grocery store so before going back home, I drove the 10 miles down to town.

The parking lot was a mass of cars, carts and people. The aisles of the store were mobbed. There were no carts near the actual building -- all the carts were out in the parking lot slammed into parked cars and light poles. Check-out lines were long. Cashiers calling out for price corrections. Easter lilies in foil, chocolate bunnies, matzoh and kugel, frijoles refriedos and menudo.

I bought a few things and drove home wondering why my mom always made us stay in the house to suffer when we could have experience a lot of suffering at our local grocery store? This experience made me sad too. The powers that be have the general public right where they want us - throngs of chubby people mobbing stores spending money on stuff they don't need and sure as sh*t shouldn't be eating.

Easter used to be a holiday that meant something to me (suffering, hot cross buns and children laughing in the distance). That something was not just candy (though candy means so much to me now - I am anxiously awaiting the See's Candy Easter bunny). Now this holiday seems to be more about ham, jello molds, booze, green bean casseroles and lots of white food. They've taken Easter and turned it into Christmas.

Jesus was lucky to get out when he did.

One Way to Help

This was not my plan for today's blog. I was going to find a photo of Rogue ripping apart an Easter basket as a young girl but couldn't find the photo which pist off Rogue royally so she's going to find the photo or die trying! waaaah 

This blogpost helps raise money for the children's miracle network. We're donating virtual Easter baskets in the hopes of raising money to support a donation from Hershey's. I wish they'd donate money to me, but I'll take chocolate too. 

If you choose to to do this and follow the rules Hershey's set up, they have to donate $10.00 per blog. I'm all for getting Hershey's donating as much cash AND chocolate as possible. YUM!



HERSHEY’S BETTER BASKET BLOG HOP RULES:

•Copy and paste these rules to your blog post.

•Create a blog post giving a virtual Easter Basket to another blogger – you can give as many Virtual Baskets as you want.

•Link back to person who gave you an Easter Basket (Happy Easter, MB).

•Let each person you are giving a Virtual Easter Basket know you have given them a Basket.

•Leave your link at BetterBasket.info/BlogHop comment section. You can also find the official rules of this betterbasket blog hop, and more information about Better Basket with Hershey’s there.

•This started as a meme of Hershey donating $10 per each blog participating to the Better Basket Blog Hop to Children’s Miracle Network up to $5,000 – but after so many bloggers participating, Hershey decided to donate a total of $7,000 honoring the kindness of blogger community. Let's see if we can get them to donate even more money to help those kids.


So because I'm cheap (cheep cheep), I'm giving Easter baskets to these bloggers:
I don't want any of you annoyed with me -- remember it's for the money and you can do it tomorrow and still get credit. It lasts until April 4th. Remember the children!!!! waaaaahhhh


Cut at paste this entire post if you want. Just add new bloggers names at the end. And don't add me again or I'm coming to spend Easter with you.




The Baglady


Shelley @ My Journey to Fit


Roxie @ Gravel & Rust


Annielaural @ American in Oz


Cheryl @ Lake Mary Musings


Sherry @ Nite Swimming


Kim @ SavingMyLife


Susan @ Susan's Journey to Keep Fit.