My Father's Eyes...

 What do you think of when you think of my Dad?  I will remember him as a loving son, brother, husband, father, uncle and grandfather.  He was a salesman, veteran, township clerk, baseball coach and Tigers fan. These are the roles that define him and he was very good at them...

  But the very first thing that comes to MY mind is food and family.  Yes, the Norwegian giant did love his food.  Mornings meant news, coffee and Connie's Cafe.  The girls at Connie's knew to keep it hot and keep it coming.   As kids, my Dad always made us the biggest and best Sunday breakfasts, smiling as we gobbled it up.  Popcorn was also big in his world.  Real big.  Dad would cook it up the old fashioned way on the stove, with lots of salt and a whole stick of butter.  We kids would stand by with our bowls at the ready for his famous popcorn, leaving the whole buttery, sticky mess for Mom to deal with in the morning. 

Dad loved Mom's cooking praising her always for meals and her baking.  He also blamed her cooking for his weight gains.  But, we would remind him,  our Mom never had a job at Bud's Donuts or McDonald's!  We loved busting him for wrappers in his truck along with pickle bologna skins and saltine crumbs.   Dad loved heading up to Gramma Iola's house after dinner to visit and have a nice bowl of vanilla ice cream with Hershey's chocolate.  He loved going to Aunt Dixie's where the coffee was always on and many sweets were made available.  His niece Nikki's kids were his very special treat.   I loved to spoil him at my house and Randy always had a big Manhattan waiting for him when he arrived.  I would cook dinner and he always made sure to leave room for my hot fudge brownie sundaes.  The recent thanksgiving at the Hensel camp made Dad very happy.  Family get togethers and food were the important things and Dad loved to laugh at the dinner table. 

So on this day, I want to remember all the happy times.  The angels better put the coffee on, the big guy is here-wing size, extra large. xo  Rest in peace Dad, we love you and will miss you. xo                

Irreplaceable...

My Dad had been losing weight without effort and feeling fatigued alot in the last few months.  Upon finally having some tests run, it was determined that he had cancer.  The doctor told my Mom to take him home and call Hospice.  The meds would keep him pain free.  One to two weeks was all we could expect.

We have been here at Mom and Dad's since Friday and my Dad is hanging tough.  Ice cream is all that appeals to him and He mostly just sleeps.  Family and friends have been streaming thru here the whole time.  The situation is so unreal.  Last week my Dad worked a day and now he can barely move.  He has been having pleasant dreams and vision that seem to keep him entertained.  He has no fear of death and is looking forward to seeing his Mom and Dad.

Mickey keeps a vigil next to Dad's recliner just in case he wants to sit up for awhile and little cousin Evan keeps a hawk eye on Mickey.  Our neighbors are keeping us in all sorts of goodies and I am feeling fatter by the day.  There is not much else to do. 

So we wait.  And remember happier times.  Pray that he is not uncomfortable too much longer and I will keep you all posted.  xo

White Noise...

Ever have one of those days when you piss yourself off?  Today I ripped off a fingernail that left me with 9 perfect ones and one short stub. Fabulous.  I got sunscreen in my eye and it burn hellaciously for a full hour.  I went to Lowe's for a new vent and forgot to measure the spot first.  Like a dumb ass rookie driver, I pulled up at the gas pump opposite of the side I needed to be on.  I realize these should not be events that rock my day, however, they can be very annoying.

So it was with great delight that I got my mail and found the latest book from Michelle of Michelle's Spell.  Also included were a cool picture montage of Mark, J.R., Michelle, Beth and Grouchie out on the town one night last winter.  Erik was missing in the pic so evidently he took the shot. The sweet note she penned me, was enough to make my day.

Hurriedly, I sat down and devoured her latest book of poems and may I just say that it's my favorite of her writings so far.  Some found me nodding my head in understanding and some had little twists that I did not see coming.  All were touching, and I felt immediately better just reading them and picturing darling Michelle conceiving, writing, and editing her work.

It's the little things really, and always.  The smell of a roast with potatoes, and carrots in the crock pot and the nudging of Lola while reading my friends writing can instantly elevate me.  And for this I am thankful and amazed.

Have an amazing week, friends. xo

Even Flow...

Well dears, by now the turkey bloat should be nothing but a memory.  With any luck, the routine of our lives has returned and also by now the uneaten leftovers should be tossed-ending any chance for food poisioning.  My brother in law treated us all to his famous 'turduken' and I gorged myself on the duck portion of the meat.  What a treat-thank you to both Steve and my sister Lisa, for hosting this fabulous, family foodfest.  I have much to be thankful for-my family being tops on my list.  Hope your day was what it takes for you to feel contented and grateful.

And on to the rest of the weekend.  My Mom came back with me and together we have painted my living room.  Ceiling, walls and moulding are all fresh and crisp awaiting the furniture delivery tomorrow.  It was very hard work, but we love creating new environments.  As a creature of deep routine, this is actually a change that I am excited for.  All of this have left me so totally bone weary, that I do not have a creative thought in my head tonight.  Completely spent.

Niters to all, see you next week. zzzzzzzzzzz  xo

Postcard from Paris...

I love to paint and have a blast trying out new ideas with my little sister.  But I am a horribly inept artist and truly wish I was better at it.  I had my chance once and I blew it.  Let me tell you the story...

 

Once upon a time, while partying in sunny Key West a Michigan girl met a handsome guy.  He buys her a glass of wine and introduces himself.  After two nights and many cocktails, on the last night of vacation, the man says, "Come with me to Paris, I'll teach you to paint.  We'll stay at my villa and paint and drink wine."  The man says that he has a small gallery here on the island, as well as one on Nantucket and one in Paris.  He hands her a business card that verifies all of this.  She cannot believe her ears.  These are words the girl dreams of.  (In fact, she still dreams of.)  But she has a life and is flying out tomorrow back to the real world.  It would be impossible at this time-and she can barely wrap her head around it.  He says the offer is open. 

So where does that leave the girl with the dream?  She has realized that her reality IS her dream.  No regrets. It's all in the timing.  But sometimes when she attempts to paint, the thoughts of real lessons from a real artist, in Paris, creep in.  She smiles and sighs.  It's a lovely dream, and you can't take that away from her.  Ever.  And that's the reality.  xo                                                                  

Girl Gone Wild...

As most of you know, I am THEE Madonna fan.  In one of my earliest posts, I outlined the uncanny parallels that make up our lives.  Totally sisters by another mother!  So when I heard last year that her 'Madgesty' was once again gracing us with her presence, I announced that we were going to the show no matter when or how much.  After all, it may be her last concert.  Oddly, it's the very same thing I said in 2006, which was the last time she was here.  Yeah.  I know.  Whatever....

On my 'virgin' experience in 1985, I was a single mother of a two year old.  It was all that I could do to scrape together the ticket price, find an overnight sitter, (thanks, Mom) and sport a totally cool, wannabee outfit.  It was a long day extending into the late night.  I sported big hair, heels and an armful of rubber bracelets.  Hours of dancing and signing and carousing Greektown left me energized and no worse for wear.  This time?  Not so much.

After drinks, dinner, drinks, dancing, drinks, snacks, drinks and walking back to our hotel, I was fried.  By 3:00 a.m. it needed to be over.  I was too full, too tired and my feet were killing me.  Just taking off my boots required a herculean effort.  Madonna delivered a strong show, but even she was only on her feet for 2 hours!  Try 10 hours, girl!!  The next morning, I croaked and was delivered "coffee", and began to come back to life.  Upon arriving home, a quick shower and a long nap put me somewhere in the normal range of living. 

Oh, I almost forgot the best part!!  Blogstar alert!! While shuffling out of the Joe, I ran into Trent from "Pink is the New Blog".  I noticed him, and introduced myself, telling him we have a mutual friend in Michelle, of  'Michelle's Spell' and that I read his post everyday. Trent warmly shook my hand and may I just say that he is MUCH more handsome in person.  What a doll and fellow fan!  I loved it..

It's with mixed feeling that I say that I almost hope it's her last tour.  Don't know if I could take it again!  I will make you a deal Madonna:  I will retire if you will.. Please girl, I beg of you.  My feet beg of you!  Don't make me survive another show, because you know I will.  Even if it kills me.

All hail the Queen-she rocks!!

Begin Again...

Tomorrow is the big day.  Thank God.  It will soon be all over.  The presidential race 2012.  The godawful, insulting and mudslinging ads will be off the television.  The signs marring my street will be taken down-I hope.  No one will be knocking at my door on Sunday afternoon when I am still in p.j.'s reading the Free Press.  And please, oh please, my phone will stop ringing with calls designed to 'help' me decide.  Facebook will go back to it's normal minutiae without everyone banging their own personal political bongo.  Such a day it promises to be..

After my much and always needed coffee, I will probably hit the walking path allowing the working peeps to have time to pull the lever.  After fortification (20 grams of protein within 20 minutes of my workout), I will shower up and head two blocks over to the polls.  I don't know why, but the polls always make me feel like I am doing something illegal. The officer is going to arrest me.  Fraud will be my crime.  Can't explain it, it just is.  My gut starts churning as soon as I walk in.   I will flop down my licence and prove my identity.  When it's my turn, I will go into the booth and immediately start to sweat when I realize that I did not study the proposals well enough to make a valid stand.  Proceeding on to the big stuff, I will curse that I cannot split my ballot as I am more a 'people voter' than a 'party voter'.  Choices made, I will hope that the curtain opens and I have done everything right.  That's right.  Curtains.  Because these choices are meant to be personal.  Private.  With a big exhale and great relief, I will make my way out to Denzel Washington and zoom away, happy in the knowledge that I have done my American duty-which after all, is a priviledge.

After dinner, which will probably be out, I will turn on and tune in to the election results.  May the best man win and may some of what he promises turns out to be true. With luck and prayer, may our county flourish under his leadership. 

That's how it works, right?