I want a hot body this year!!! This is my new goal. I have posted pics of hot, toned girls around my house in the hopes it will motivate my sorry butt to get going!!!!! PLEASE HELP!!!
My heart skipped a beat this morning when I spotted this note from a distance. I briefly thought it could be a love note because I leave notes for Brandon some mornings. Then I laughed. No heart, smiley face or XOXO. But I got a note and that's something. I love my practical man. He's all business.
I should write more down about my Mother's Mother. Nonna, as I call her.
In her sixties, as a single woman, she lived in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. Yes, think Trans-Alaska pipeline, grizzly bears, and men. She was the manager of the hotel/restaurant and in charge of all the food and special events for the men. (She threw a Luau once and had dancers flown in from Hawaii! Large budget in the oil fields?)
To make a really long story short:
She was falling in love with a man there. One day the man stops coming in to see her. A new man starts pursuing her. She later marries new guy. New guy was her 6th husband and the one I knew as my Grandpa. But we didn't call him that. Just Jim.
Jim dies.
Old guy from Prudhoe Bay comes back into the picture (just months before her death and no, not the guy who killed her) and says that back in the day, Jim threatened him to leave her alone and that's why he suddenly disappeared.
I think her marriage to Jim sucked, from what I could tell. I cracked open one of her journals once a few years ago and my eyes went straight to this sentence... There is no companionship in this marriage. Like a reflex, I slammed it shut. It was close to home and I wished then that she was alive so I could talk to her, get to know her now that I was an adult.
Perhaps she pined for the first guy who courted her at Table 13.
I'm only guessing it was Table 13 because that was the title of the unfinished novel on her word processor when she died: Table 13! Yes, she was writing a novel about love working on the pipeline. I wish she lived to finish it. Can you imagine?
Who goes to Alaska to live in their sixties? Alone?!
Also randomly interesting: I guess lots of the buildings were trailers. A grizzly hibernated underneath one (the kitchen!) all season and no one knew it until he woke up.
Why am I up and writing down all these random histories? Because Brandon is fixing our TV and I can't watch the recorded Bachelor. So I'm stuck doing something sort of productive... CRAP.
So who killed Nonna, anyway?
Acute blunt force trauma to the head. That's waaay too common of a death certificate in this family. She was on a trip in Wyoming with some dude (yes, at 72). She didn't like him, just friends. He says he leaves the hot springs to go change his clothes and comes back to find her floating face down. All they found was a teeny-tiny bruise on her head and concluded she slipped, bumped, and drowned. All while he went to change?
He just so happened to be ex-military and told Nonna once he was trained to kill a man one hundred different ways. He made her a bent fork with the prongs mangled that went around your fist and was to be used like brass knuckles. Hello, creepy. I remember looking at those things and thinking what. in. the. heck. Hello, buy the woman mace if you think she needs self-defense.
This man also told my Mom, very casually, that his children disowned him because they all thought he killed their mother and covered it up. He's telling my Mom this fresh back from Wyoming, body not in the ground. And told it coldly. Fishy much? She didn't like him. Perhaps he came on to her and she rejected him? Write THAT murder mystery!
I guess we'll never know.
It's weird to think about what the adults were up to while you were an oblivious kid. There was a love triangle playing out above the Arctic circle and all I got was the lousy t-shirt... "Go Climb a Rock! Prudhoe Bay, AK" from my Grandma in the mail. It was a color-yourself t-shirt so I guess that was cool...
Like I said, random funnies on my mind.
My brother moved out of our house and in with his girlfriend when he was 18. Obviously, my Mom disapproved but could she stop him? No.
It wasn't long until he whined a bit to her about how they were broke and couldn't even buy food. She responded, matter-of-factly as is her style, "You should buy a bag of potatoes. They're cheap and nutritious."
My parents could have helped financially but of course, she stepped back and let a child learn a lesson, as was her style.
I consciously try to be more like my Mom. I need to be more like my Mom. She always allowed us to learn the natural consequences of choices. Tough love is the hardest thing to do sometimes. It's hard not to swoop in for the rescue!
I can totally see her in my mind's eye... You should just buy a bag of potatoes. They're cheap and nutritious... Lovingly sharing such a helpful idea. Oh, Mom. I smile inside.
... but it so totally is!
The greatest euphemism of all time: Go get the paper.
Random memories are randomly on my mind at all times and this one I find hilarious.
There was a pretty long era previous to my Mom and Dad's separation wherein my Dad would disappear on benders for periods of time. Sometimes it was just a few days and sometimes months. Sometimes he would take the motor home with him. Sometimes he would just disappear into thin air, poof!
We never knew where he would go but we knew where he said he was going... to get the paper.
This, typically, would be how it took place:
1. Everyone wakes up like normal.
2. Dad says he's going to the mini mart for the morning paper, coffee, and a bear claw. (The bear claw was totally his thing. There was even a bear-claw wrapper in his truck's tool box when he died.)
3. Dad doesn't come home.
4. Get a phone call from a rehab down by the beach several months later. Or from a friend whom he contacted, etc.
Going to get the paper quickly became an inside joke, an eyebrow raiser, in our family.
I distinctly remember one morning when he said he was going to get the paper. He seemed nervous, agitated. I shot Andrea a glance. I almost wanted to laugh because we openly discussed Dad 'getting the paper' and we both sensed this was one of those times, but my stomach was sick because I knew what going to get the paper entailed and sure enough...
Poof!
Another time, I was playing in the driveway. He was headed to the motor home. He made a little chit chat with me and I could smell what was coming a mile away. I could tell he was exiting and it was awkward as he tried to exit UNawkwardly. As if I couldn't sense it! As if I wasn't going to think it was odd he was driving the motor home away by himself on a weekday morning! But bless his heart for trying to linger longer with me on the driveway. What was going on in that poor man's head and soul? What demons he faced!
We still use the phrase. Did so-and-so go get the paper? Did Dad go get the paper? Dad went to get the paper. (Dad abandoned us.)
This totally doesn't make me sad; it makes me laugh. Maybe I need a psychiatrist but I truly find it funny. I feel totally whole and all I feel is my love for my Dad. Thinking of him getting the paper is actually endearing. I ache for his pain. Am I in denial? I really don't think so. I truly only feel my love for him.
Oh, Dad. He really was so funny. I guess you'd just have to know him.
I love to share a good thing when I see one. Ummm, when was someone going to tell me these existed? And anyone have an extra $400 sitting around? No cords to pull the lamps down and cute as hell. I wonder what the on/off switch is like. In my fantasy, it's a touch lamp. It's nice to know good design is happening out there in the world somewhere, even though I'll never be able to buy it.
I am on a night light and lamp quest for Ben's room. As usual, what's inside my head doesn't exist and I can't find anything that will satisfy... at least for an affordable price.
I went shopping for a bath mat for the kids' bathroom today. Not a thing in the whole town. Reminds me of the bath mat quest for my bathroom. It took me a good 4 years before I found something I liked. Will I have to wait 4 years again just to find a satisfying bath mat? This is ridiculous. Why am I so particular/picky? Help!
Is what is going on while I shower each day. I used to put Ben in the jumper but he loves to spin in it and get super dizzy, eventually barfing up breakfast. I have completely given up trying to keep the house clean and now just wade through seas of torn paper and Cheerios.
We arrived home from Utah just in time for Christmas (midnight Christmas Eve). Spent a weekend in Idaho for Cody's wedding and then a week at my sister Kelli's to play with her and visit my mom.
It is good to be home.
Still can't figure out why Ben went on a nursing strike...
I kind of grew up on Beastie Boys so this video is just awesome. How they got all of those people in the video is beyond me. Even Frodo.
Revisited is nice but you can't beat original...
Extra! Extra! Read all about it!
Recognize this face?
My parents on a two-month road trip in Mexico. They had been camped in their car on what they thought was a deserted beach and were there for a few days before, out of nowhere, they were approached by Mexican military men pointing rifles at them. Only my Dad spoke little Spanish. My parents had buried garbage days before and they were forced to dig it back up and leave the beach. Unknowingly they were on some sort of military base/property and had been watched for days. I'm sure the soldiers were enjoying their show as my Mom said she had been going topless almost the whole time. Whoops.
