HAPPY NEW YEAR!

BOO HOO IT'S THE FLU

Sorry for not updating about Christmas yet.  It seems I caught Brian's cold (came down with it Christmas Eve) and it has officially kicked my ass.  My hips hurt from sleeping so much.  I am finally able to be up around after 48 hours of sleeping and sounding like some hacking witch from a Grimms fairy tale. 

I am tired of chicken soup and crackers, but too exhausted to go to the store.  Its funny the things we will dig out of our cupboards to avoid going to the store.  I think I invented a new recipe for peanut butter....

Of course with my luck, if I went to the store - there I'd be hacking and sneezing, in the frozen food isle, dressed in sweats I have slept in, looking like Phyllis Diller and some old boyfriend of mine will round the corner with his latest girlfriend (who is an underwear model and barely 18).  There I'd be trying to crawl in with the frozen shrimp and fish sticks to make myself small.

I also have the flu "no taste buds" mouth, so I really could boil left-over wrapping paper and not be able to tell the difference between it and chicken soup.  Or am I saying something about my cooking here?  My eyes have that just baked apple crisp feel to them, which makes every man reading this blog dream of sex with me I am certain.  Hey, I could roll kleenex and stick it in my nose (like my mother always does) and yell, "Hey sexy" adding to the final icing on the cake of my sexy redhead visual here.

I need to go lay down again.  Happy belated Boxing Day.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife

YOU HAVE A HAPPY CHRISTMAS

 

 

Nollaig Shona Daoibh!

 

C

Tags: www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

AND SUDDENLY

Her face is a map of the world
Is a map of the world
You can see she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
And everything around her is a silver pool of light
The people who surround her feel the benefit of it
It makes you calm
She holds you captivated in her palm

Suddenly I see
Suddenly I see
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see
Suddenly I see
Why the hell it means so much to me

I feel like walking the world
Like walking the world
You can hear she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
She fills up every corner like she's born in black and white
Makes you feel warmer when you're trying to remember
What you heard
She likes to leave you hanging on her word

Suddenly I see
Suddenly I see
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see
Suddenly I see
Why the hell it means so much to me

And she's taller than most
And she's looking at me
I can see her eyes looking from a page in a magazine
Oh she makes me feel like I could be a tower
A big strong tower
She got the power to be
The power to give
The power to see

Suddenly I see
Suddenly I see
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see
Suddenly I see
Why the Hell it means so much to me

Thanks for the link and the lyrics to my new favorite song MrY... yeha it does remind me of me....lol.  If they would only just fall down in front of me...

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife

Tags: KT Tunstall, Suddenly I see, music videos, Youtube

AM I

 

 

DONE WITH SHOPPING YET?!?!?!?!?

IN EVERYONE'S LIFE A LITTLE LIGHT MUST SHINE...

When I was in grade school, every year at this time, my father would tell us to put on our warm coats and get in the car.  It was Christmas light hunting night.  I'd grab my favorite coat, as somehow my mother always made sure I had these beautiful, interesting winter coats and run out the front door.

My brother and I would race to the car, shoving and pushing to get the seat behind my dad in the old Impala.  The air would be crisp and cold, the stars bright and our breath appeared like smoke in front of our our faces. In the true spirit of Christmas, one of us would call the other, "stupid", or "jerk" and my dad would give us his "knock it off or we aren't going" look.

My mother brings hot cocoa in a thermos with extra cups, some napkins and hustles us to hurry and get into the car.  If I tripped my brother just right I sometimes managed the proverbial choice seat behind my dad.  Excitement rang in the air, as this was the beginning to the last nights before Christmas.

After enduring weeks and hours of Catholic masses, bending to our knees, smelling incense, beating our chests with rosary beads and dodging holy water in our hair we are finally able to enjoy the more commercial side of Christmas.  My father finds a radio station with Christmas music as my mother begins to sing with her lyrical soprano voice.  I begged they turn up the heat ... always the girl who hates to be cold.

We'd drive the back roads of Sonoma County making our way to Santa Rosa's West side, known then as the Montgomery Village area.  There, known to everyone is a street called, "Christmas Tree Lane".  It is a looped street with large one-story homes, massive front lawns, and everyone, and I say, everyone on this loop decorated their homes for Christmas.  It was the contest of the year.

Excitement would build as we turn the car onto the Lane and the first Christmas display reveals itself.  Lot's of "ohhhh's, awwws and oh my God's" echoed through the car.  My dad pulls the car over and there we'd sit gazing at this long row of homes covered in all varying types of Christmas decoration.  There were the many manger scenes, some with actual sheep (we were a farm town people), large wooden statues of elves, Santa flying on a roof, angels hanging from trees, flashing stars and a mix of large Christmas lights.

We'd slowly move down the street pointing out every little detail.  I was sure Santa was a secret angel who created this magic just for us.  Towards the end of the loop my father would flip a u-turn and park the car with the heater running.  My mother pours us hot chocolate and we'd sit there admiring this special gift many strangers created for our viewing pleasure.  I always expected that somehow Santa would come running down the street and wave yelling, "Catherine you are getting the life-size Barbie this year!"

Finally, when we felt we had seen it all, and my dad would grow weary from his long workday, we'd slowly drive out of the loop, out from Christmas Tree Lane. I was sure the people who lived there had some special relationship with Santa and their kids probably got amazing gifts.  Although, my parents always did an wonderful job at making Christmas something special for me and my brother.  Hell, Christmas morning I used to wake everyone up at 4:30 am screaming, "Santa came! Santa came! Santa came!” Only to have my mother beg and plead with me to go back to bed.  I thought she was nuts.

I go back to bed and lay there in agony not understanding why no one else was bounding out of bed.  Finally, my dad, fresh from about an hours worth of sleep would get up out of bed. He couldn't sleep knowing I was laying in my bed desperately waiting for everyone to get up, so he would get up, put on his robe and come take my hand.  He would start by saying we HAD to go get coffee percolating.  I soooooooooo get why now.

My mother would then rise and get my brother.  My brother would come out, see the time and look at me like I was the she-devil he was convinced I was.  I am sure I ruined just about every holiday for him from the minute I was born.  Since I was born on the 4th of July at 5:30pm, he didn't get to do fireworks that year.  I then subsequently stole the thunder for the holiday every year after. Let’s not even discuss how truly nutty I was for Christmas.

Hell, I still am.

Tonight Brian and I went for our "look at lights" night.  They aren't as plentiful as the once were, although we can find that occasional small block that out shines the rest of Santa Rosa.  There is one favorite of ours where Santa's reindeer are towing a classic VW Bug.  We laugh every time we see it.  Santa is styling these days.

I hope Brian remembers all his Christmas' with me the way I remember mine with my dad. A very Merry Christmas everyone.  May you find joy in all the little moments.... silent night...holy night... all is calm...all is bright...

...sleep in heavenly peace...

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS

I love the TV 60 minutes.  I have been watching it on Sunday nights ever since I can remember.  My father loved the show and as a family we would watch the stories and often discuss them afterward.

On this Sunday 60 minutes correspondent Scott Pelley discussed Holocaust documents that were taken to a town in the middle of Germany, called Bad Arolsen, where they were sorted, filed and locked way, never to be seen by the public until now. There are 16 miles of shelves holding the stories of 17 million victims – not only Jews, but slave laborers, political prisoners and homosexuals. 60 minutes has flown three men who are Holocaust survivors to the town to look at their own records.

Every time I see something on the Jewish holocaust I cry my eyes out.  Maybe it is my Irish upbringing and the understanding that my reason for being in the US is the discrimination that went on with Irish Catholics. not only Ireland, but in Canada where my Grandmother landed after leaving her home country.  Maybe because it is the darkest side of our humanity ... bigotry ... like the trail of tears and the Rwanda genocide of 1994.

It really pisses me off that people say the holocaust didn't happen.  How ignorant does someone have to be to say something so stupid, arrogant and cruel.  There's the President of Iran and his recent summit on proving the holocaust didn't happen.  I think there's a special place in hell just for those that supported it. 

I remember a guy I dated in college who had his degree and made the statement that he wasn't sure the holocaust happened.  How in the hell does someone graduate from college with a BS degree from a prestigious school and say something so ignorant?  I remember wanting to spit on him.  Needless to say we didn't date anymore.  Oh but to some future employer he had a good credit score and could pass a pee test, because to corporate America that's all that matters.  He lives in Texas and is in management at Transunion.  What an ass.

This is one of the reasons I speak up when something bugs me, or a neighbor is being mean.  There is this trend inthe US to not make waves and ignore situations that make us uncomfortable.  Don't say anything - don't "make waves".  How in the hell do people think the holocaust happened?  It was exactly fear and turning of the head that allowed an entire race to suffer a cruel history we will take with us into the afterlife.  This is why I say something to the teachers who are mean to children, or the guy calling his girlfriend derogatory names in front of her dad's house at a party or the bigot that makes a comment to the casher at the local grocery store.  Brian always grins when I calmly speak up against cruelty with some redheaded comment.

But will the ignorant travel to see the documentation of Anne Frank and those that died with her?  I doubt it.  We will continue to hear this rhetoric about the holocaust not really happening and Irish redheads like myself standing up to say these comments piss me off to the extreme.

Can you tell this subject hits a nerve with me?  All bigotry does.  One doesn't have to be Jewish to recognise the contribution they have made to America, and probably to my family, somewhere in our family tree.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/  

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BLACK AND WHITE CLASSICS

The movie, "It's a Wonderful Life" is on this evening.  It reminds me of the Santa Rosa of old, where everyone knew each other, helped each other and stopped to chat on the street.  We knew each other's families, troubles, hopes and dreams.  So many transplants are here now, and I, like George Bailey still have not left.  Every time I have tried to leave something happens to pull me back.

Every now and then I get a glimpse of the Santa Rosa old .... at some symphony fund raiser ... or a funeral ... or a winning football game with Cardinal Newman.  But then we mavericks of old quietly slip back into our busy lives and Santa Rosa becomes the place where strangers walk the streets never looking at one another.

The blonde summer fields of straw and majestic Oak trees are being traded in for vineyards and yuppie estates.  People come here to talk of wine while the rest of us roll our eyes and remember the great Italian cattle ranches of yesterday.  I guess there are some newbies who feel the sight of never ending vineyards is a beautiful thing, but those of us born here remember the farms, country barns and rolling hills that looked like clinched fingers.

The traffic sits more like long parking lots, rather than moving vehicles.  All the roads paved to nowhere have changed the landscape as well.  I remember when we could leave lunch during high school, speed to this hamburger stand on 4th Street downtown and then race back to school completing the whole run in 30 minutes.  That same stunt would take an easy hour and fifteen minutes now.  No one in any hamburger stand will call you by name, prepare your food the way you like it or talk in a way you clearly understand.

Antique ornaments hang from my Christmas tree, framed by the living room window, encircled by tiny blue lights.  It looks like Christmas from 1950, and I love it.  The hand stitched stockings hang from the fireplace mantle where soft candles twinkle in the soft winter light.  I may not be able to see the Santa Rosa of yesterday when I step outside my door, but I can recreate it every Christmas within the tiny walls of this little place we call home.

The Building and Loan in "It's a Wonderful Life" reminds me of the old Santa Rosa Savings and Loan with its dark wood floors, walls and iron gates at the teller windows.  Mr. Stone would always be at his sprawling office in the back reading over the Press Democrat.  Ladies wore hats and gloves to go shopping and Pepper, the town character directed traffic.  The windows of the department stores downtown were box windows which protrude out on to the sidewalk, forcing passers by to stop and stare at the treasures displayed inside.

My ex husband turned out to be the final reason that I remain living here.  When we met I was working in the financial district of San Francisco and looking for a studio apartment to rent in SF or the south bay.  I was staying with a friend in Tiburon when we made that fateful drive north to have dinner at Porifinos.  The Santa Rosa rugby club was drinking in the bar.  My ex was a Prop ... and the rest, as they say, "is history".

Now I stay for Brian and write about a single mother's life.  I am trying to do the right thing and show Brian that if you hold out long enough for the right things, stand your ground and tough your way through, the rewards will eventually find their way to you.  There is no way to gage how this will all turn out, but each time I chose Brian over instant gratification or a silly short cut - I am the better person for it.  I can't imagine a greater satisfaction than the feeling I get with the sacrifices I make for him.

Just every now and then the words of George Bailey rattle around in my head, "I'm shakin' the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then, I'm comin' back here to go to college and see what they know. And then I'm gonna build things. I'm gonna build airfields, I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high, I'm gonna build bridges a mile long..."

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

ODE TO ADAM

"Okay...
This is a song that uhh..
There's a lot of Christmas songs out there and uhh..
Not too many Chanukah songs.
So uhh..
I wrote a song for all those nice little Jewish kids who don't get to hear any Chanukah songs.
Here we go...

Put on your yarmulke
Here comes Chanukah
So much funukah
To celebrate Chanukah
Chanukah is the festival of lights
Instead of one day of presents, we have eight crazy nights

When you feel like the only kid in town without a Christmas tree
Here's a list of people who are Jewish just like you and me
David Lee Roth Lights the menorah
So do James Caan, Kirk Douglas, and the late Dinah Shore-ah

Guess who eats together at the Carnegie Deli
Bowser from Sha Na Na and Arthur Fonzerelli
Paul Newman's half Jewish, Goldie Hawn's half too
Put them together, what a fine lookin Jew

You don't need deck the halls or jingle bell rock
'cause you can spin a dreidel with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock- both Jewish

Put on your yarmulke
It's time for Chanukah
The owner of the Seattle Supersonicahs
Celebrates Chanukah

O.J. Simpson, not a Jew
But guess who is? Hall of famer Rod Carew - he converted
We got Ann Landers and her sister Dear Abby
Harrison Ford's a quarter Jewish - not too shabby

Some people think that Ebenezer Scrooge is
Well he's not, but guess who is
All Three Stooges
So many Jews are in show biz
Tom Cruise isn't, but I heard his agent is

Tell your friend Veronica
It's time to celebrate Chanukah
I hope I get a harmonicah
Oh this lovely, lovely Chanukah
So drink your gin and tonicah
And smoke your marijuanikah
If you really, really wannakah
Have a happy, happy, happy, happy Chanukah
Happy Chanukah"

Thanks to Adam Sandler ... Happy Hanukkah!

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/ 

PEACE ON EARTH, MAN...

HO HO HO it's that time of year where we run around in circles and wonder why we aren't getting anywhere.  I do love the holidays though.  All the lights, fireplace stockings and corny old movies. 

The winter solstice is also on its' way, so we can climb over the shortest day of the year to begin coming home in daylight once again.  I miss my evening walks with Brian and the dog.  I hate that it is dark at 5:30pm.  I enjoy those first nights of spring when a neighbor's lawn has just been cut and the air smells of grass and flowers.  Everything has this crisp, just washed feel to it.

This evening, upon leaving my ex's (where Brian is still sick and I spend the better part of the day coordinating my ex's business Christmas mailers - my life is so strange) I decide to stop by Whole Foods to get sushi for dinner.  Around here you can't beat Whole Foods for it's sushi.  But some of the clientele are so strange.  It reminds me of when my ex dated Granola-Garlic Girl (as we liked to call her).  She always smelled of either garlic or granola and eventually left him for Eight ball-head Granola Guy.  I used to tell my ex that he wasn't strange enough for her, which would have to be pretty damn strange.

Like the lady at the counter in WF who was in my way with her crocheted cap, hemp clothes and Ugg slippers asking the deli-person if the tofu was fresh ... HUH?  These are the moments I ask myself why I am in this store with boar brush toothbrushes and gluten-free, rice-free, taste-free, no animals were harmed, hard as rock bread.  I often grin as I don't think they realize what happens when a farmer cultivates wheat.  No one really talks about the rodents, bugs, birds and the like that get whacked down with the wheat and become part of the bread.  At least they were range free bugs...(?).  But do you ever go into a store and it feels like some strange force is keeping you from just running in and getting out, groceries in hand?  I had to say excuse me three times to get the tofu-concerned hemp girl to move over so I could pick up my sushi.  Then a guy with 5000 braided pieces of hair with different rubber bands was feeling all the apples like they were a date, so I skipped on my favorite sour granny smiths and headed for the cashier, only to encounter person after person stopped dead center of an isle, cart and all looking out into space.

They all can't be stoned...  can they?

I finally make it to the parking lot to what appears to be a car lot of BMW's with guys.  Beammers are an odd choice for a guy - it is really a fem car.  Don't you think? I grin when I think of my girlfriends in college, as we referred to BMW's as: Boring Men Within or Bed-wetting Man Within, because it never failed that guys we dated that drove beammers were lousy dates.  We used to make bets on who had the worst BMW date.  One of mine was with Larry the lawyer from San Francisco who got his rocks off spinning donuts on the freeway.  Yes, I did type freeway.  The third time he did it on our 2nd date, I asked him to take me to the nearest hotel.  He thought it was for sex, but I used the lobby phone to call my brother.  I then told him my brother was on his way to kill him.  He left without saying goodbye... parting is such sweet sorrow.  My brother told me he was looking forward to killing an attorney.  Hey, some nights you are the pigeon, some times the statue below... that particular week I won the bad-date contest and didn't have to help clean the apartment.

The lawyer was just lucky my dad wasn't alive for me to call.

This is the time of year I also get Christmas cards from old boyfriends.  One has just had another daughter and he is 53.  Good lord infants in your 50's.  I think they should be nominated for saint hood ... or the State hospital.  I think God helped me dodge that baby making bullet.  Another is lonely in Canada ... a third is working too much ... and one isn't doing what he is suppose to be doing (clearing throat) ...  But I like their cards.  I love getting anything in the mail that isn't a bill, an advertisement or the IRS ... put a photo on it, fold it, add some sentiments and a signature and it makes for the perfect holiday surprise.  It's nice to be remembered with an effort. It means thatI matter to them.  A girl likes to know that she mattered.

Our broker (who is also my ex boss - the same tall sexy man) got into quite the argument with me this week.  I hung up on him.  We haven't had a fight like this since I worked for him.  He had to call my ex husband to vent.  My ex says, "Hey buddy don't bitch to me.  I have lived it for 16 years now."  I had to laugh.  So now me and Mr. Broker aren't talking.  My ex says, "I could advise him, but then I don't want you not speaking to me."  Did hell freeze over and no one told me ... cause I think my ex is growing wiser with age.  It is odd when people want to push you - give you attitude. Then when you have had enough and bark back, they act all indignant and put out.  I encounter this often because people mistake nice for no-boundaries and when they cross my line I let them know right to their face.  They always have that "But I thought you were just going to let me act this way and treat you like shit and how dare you call me on my shit" look on their faces.  This ex boss is no different, except his was more the "What, you do exactly what I have always asked you to do, and because I didn't pay attention, nor plan this and am now caught off guard I am going to get in your face" attitude.  At what part did he brain fart and forget I am a redhead?  I don't think so sparky.

On a better note, Brian and I shared a nice moment on the couch last night.  We were talking about school and reading.  I was telling him how amazing I think he is, how proud I am and how lucky I feel that he is my son.  His face gets this funny look as his eyes well up with tears.  My heart races as I begin to ask if his teacher is mistreating him in school (just watch how quickly I become like a lioness protecting her cubs).  He shakes his head and says "I don't know..." and then it hit me.  "Are you overwhelmed that your mother thinks you are so special and amazing?"  He nods his head as tears roll down his face.  I take his face in my hands and tell him it is all true, and he smiles.  God I hate teachers for what they do to kids self-esteem.  "Brian you can be anything you want - you are THAT great!" I tell him. He buries his face in my chest.  I don't know what I did on this earth that was so wonderful that God should give me such a great gift in Brian, but I am grateful ... every single day. 

I do swear that some day when I have the money, as God is my witness, I am going to help all the kids like Brian, who suffer at the hands of our school system because they learn differently.  I see them at Brian's school and they are all my favorite kids.  How a teacher can be mean to them is beyond my comprehension.  It takes a lot for a child to hate an adult - children are like puppies.  So when a great many say they hate a certain teacher, I know that teacher should be fired.  I love taking bad teachers on.  I know how they can make a child suffer.  Someday we are all going to change this and make school districts accountable for abusive, inept teachers.  I don't care if the teachers hate me.  

Speaking of Brian and children ... I haven't done much Christmas shopping yet. I fear I will be one of those people out on Christmas Eve frantically searching for that 2nd glove.  Then wrapping everything in my mother's back bedroom while guests arrive.  If people get gifts from 7-11 I hope they are appreciative...  There is nothing that says, "Merry Christmas, Love you" quite like a Bic lighter three pack.

Aghhhhh I have written enough for today and need to go turn off all the outside lights.  Tonight, more mid-season reruns because network TV still loves to send the message how unimportant we are.  I have a new book I want to begin and it is the perfect rainy night to curl up in bed with a good book.  It's safer, and doesn't require condoms.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

ONLY 1960 MORE DAYS UNTIL BRIAN CAN DRIVE

Last night I receive a call from Brian, "Hello Boobello" I say wondering what he has forgotten at our home and wants me to deliver to his dad's home... "I have a sore throat Mom" are his first words over the phone.  Really, what am I suppose to do here..?  But then it dawns on me, God love you men but you suck at taking care of sick people.  This is why most nurses are female.  They are the ones that do the real caring for the sick.  It is apparent his dad is ignoring him ... just like most male doctors do.

We talk for a bit on the phone as I advise him what to do to feel better.  He tells me he loves me and wants to come over.  This is the hardest part about being a divorced parent when dealing with our kids.  What to do when they want to come home when it is still their time with the other parent?  I know there are parents out there that are a real hard ass about this, but I never had to leave my home growing up, so I am a bit of a softy when it comes to this issue. It's hard because my ex husband rarely completes his week with Brian as it is - something always comes up.  Usually it is some selfish girlfriend's needs, but lately this hasn't been the case.  I ask to speak to his father.

I know what it is with Brian, as I have created my own monster.  I can create a very loving, tranquil, comfy easy going home life where we laugh and have alot of fun.  His dad is strict and more of the "be a man" type.  Just different parenting and kids always want to hang with the easier going parent.  I talk to my ex and decide to leave Brian with him.  These kind of decisions always tear me in two.  

Late this afternoon, I am at his dad's house after the REMLA Christmas party putting the finishing touches on my brother's loan when Brian walks in from school, holds his throat, puts his arms about me and proclaims, "I feel awful Mom".  He is great at drama (I have no idea where he gets this from (rolling eyes)).  I tell him I have to run and I will come back to check on him.  I need to meet with my brother.  He gives me one of those "but I am sure I will die" looks as I leave.

When I return, it's late and he has not had dinner.  I make my ex order Chinese food and I drive to the store for aspirin, cold medicine, oranges and gingerale.  When I return I make Brian take a shower, put on jammies, take aspirin and cold medicine and sit down to some won ton soup.  I pour him some gingerale, peal an orange and place it on a napkin for him, kiss his forehead and leave him in his dad's care.  Brian looks relieved that I have done the motherly thing and manages a big smile. I agree to have him come home here by tomorrow.  I tell him if he is sick I will work from home.  I am no pushover...oiy...

Does this mean I have to pass on my new dance class Wednesday night...?...

When is Brian of driving age....?

Until next time-

C

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Tags: A Week In The Life of A Redhead, Redhead bloggers, Blogging to Fame

LOOK! IT'S ZU ZU'S PETALS...

This is the weekend I always prepare for Christmas.  I start by picking Brian up from school on Friday and go on the great tree hunt for the perfect Christmas tree.  After three tree farms and four tree lots, he decides on one at a lot right by our home.  Maybe we should have just started there.  I think it is some sort of weird Christmas law for kids ... the tree you get ends up being the first you see three hours earlier...

The tree he picks is fresh and fat. I get Brian to saw off the bottom inch and stick it in a bucket of water outside. I think during this moment he is thinking Christmas sucks.  But it is a tradition my own father taught me from his days spent as a lumberjack in north west California. There is one thing I can do very well:  chop down trees and chop wood.  My father was adamant growing up that I learn this skill.  I know what to do with a Christmas tree.  I have the oddest life.  I teach Brian to fish, throw a baseball, cut down a tree and split wood. How many mothers can say that? 

Suddenly I am getting an odd surge of married men or men living with women contacting me via instant message these past few days.  I don't know if it is the holidays, the growing interest in this blog or what, but suddenly they are coming out of the wood work.  I am sorry, but most single women just aren't interested in wasting hours chatting with someone else's guy.  You are boring to us.  I am okay with my friend's husbands and boyfriends because they are like family. But the rest of the "taken" men out there I am just not interested in getting to know.

Life is too short and too valuable to be their fun, because they are searching for something outside their relationship, rather than getting off their asses and creating it where they lay.  I got divorced.  I paid my heartache dues and I am just not interested in some other woman's guy.  I never have been and this part of me will never change.  Besides, there is this little list of rules that I do believe in called The Ten Commandments.  Why do some taken guys think a woman will settlefor so little when we single ones can just go out and create the life we want with a single, available man ...?

I feel sorry for the women in these guy's lives.  My father never would have done anything like that, but he was crazy for my mother ... so was Papa Dick.  And my brother, like me has never cheated on anyone. I just don't understand the point.  You are either in a relationship or you're not.  It's a black or white issue.  Maybe we just come from a culture that takes its responsibilities and commitments seriously.  But I also think the value we put on the relationships in our lives is directly related to how we value ourselves.  When someone cares about me I am careful about their heart.  This is why I gave my all to make my marriage work and was so devastated when I called it off.  It wasn't my fault but I still took my fare share of the responsibility for its end.  And because I value my relationship with Brian I go out of my way to work on a working friendship with his father, even though some say my ex doesn't deserve it.

I always answer with "What would Jesus, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, or the Dahli Lama do?"  Brian is the best part of our marriage.  He is a great kid.  He deserves the best from us and parents who should act like grown-ups.  I can say my ex was not exactly on board with this type of thinking the first few years of our divorce, but I was relentless in my pursuit of a peaceful, happy life for Brian and I made it happen. Brian will be a better man for it. Ok...enough of that soap box. YAWN.

I made my famous polenta dinner for my annual Sunday night tree decorating party.  Christmas carols, champagne, family and friends partake in my annual tradition.  Now our home is perfectly decorated for the holidays.  Sometimes I think we invented Christmas as a way to see ourselves through the coldest, darkest part of the year. The tree stands proud next to the living room window kissed with hundreds of small colored lights and old fashioned ornaments.  Brian is so excited that he has fallen asleep on the couch facing the tree.

Something has changed in our home, and it isn't just the furniture I have moved around.  Mymother notices it when she arrives, "Your home is so beautiful and comforting dear, what is new?"  Really, nothing is.  I got rid of our old entertainment center that Brian and I learned to paint Monet flowers on.  But I think it is me surviving the very worst of events over the last year and being able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I do want people reading this blog to understand that in my darkest hours I have always been grateful to God for my life.  Brian is a healthy, happy well-adjusted kid and every day that he walks this earth is a blessed day indeed.  I never for one minute forget this fact. 

I have re-arranged the furniture to allow for a writing table and a place for Brian to play the piano.  He is all the way to Old MacDonald.  He cracks me up as he goes from sitting playing the piano to putting on his basketball shorts, ready to go play his latest game.

Speaking of, he seems to have the best luck with joining sports teams ... or it is his massive size ... but he always seems to land on the number one team.   On Saturday his basketball team played the next best team and they ended up losing by a point in the final 2 seconds.  I never knew sixth grade basketball could be so exciting, or that some of the kids already look like pros.  And there is Brian in the middle of it, not thinking anything about the fact that he is on a talked about basketball team.  Several boys from his school approach him as he walks into the gym, "Brian?  You are on the Kings???!!!" they shout.  Brian shrugs like they have just commented he has blonde hair.  He is just in it for the fun... and the applause.  I think if he could get me to applaud him when he brushes his teeth, combs his hair or ties his shoes he would think life is pretty close to perfection.

Any given day that we are both healthy, still on earth and in the game of life is perfection.

On Sunday, even more so as we were surrounded by family and close friends.  The tree is smiling at me ... she sure looks dressed up, ready for Christmas.  Several tiny bells hang from the lower branches that magically ring every now and then. 

Sunday was also the second Sunday of Advent.  It is a special time for Catholics.  Advent is a season of preparing for Christmas by prayer, meditation, and reflection.  In Latin, the word Advent is defined as "to come to." Advent is the beginning of the Catholic Church Year. The entire bible is read at Mass over the year. Many people don't realize this is a part of the Catholic service they listen to. The four-week period before Christmas is known as Advent. Advent lasts anywhere from twenty-one to twenty-eight days. It begins on the fourth Sunday before Christmas. During this time, Catholics try to add a little more holiness into their lives. We pray, read the Bible, meditate, and attend Mass more frequently. My mother still carries on the tradition of an Advent Wreath. An Advent wreath has four candles. Each candle represents one week of Advent. I just light a new special candle each week and place it on my fireplace mantle.  With each candle ceremony I remind myself how fortunate I am and say a prayer for all my family and friends.  This is a special time of year for me. 

Merry Christmas everyone.

"Every time you hear a bell ring, it means that some angel's just got his wings."

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Tags: http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

TIME FLIES

WOOOOOSH there goes the sound of a crazy week flying by.  So many times I sat down here to write my thoughts and the phone rang, Brian wanted something, the dog needed a walk, my new dance class, and so on.  I can't believe it's almost Friday.

During this time James Kim left this world in an area of Oregon I am in love with.  The road they were suppose to stay on, which travels up from Gold Beach to Florence to Eugene is where I wish to build my dream home.  Why they chose to go down through Grants Pass over to the coast is unclear.  State highway 126 is the way to go in the winter (Eugene to the coast).  They call this area the banana belt for how warm it gets in the summer.  Who would have thought it would become known for an area that claims lives.  I cannot begin to describe to you the pure beauty of that drive winding along the McKenzie River to the Pacific ocean.  It is my favorite drive.  It looks like Ireland with pine trees and tall mountains.  Everything is so green ... like Oz.

Life is so deliciously precious and gone in a flash.  It was nice to see news about a real guy - a nice guy for a change.  Some one who loved his family desperately.  We see so much negative press about men ... OJ Simpson ... Scott Peterson ...men who beat, shoot or kill women.  It was wonderful to see news about what most men are really like... kind, giving, funny and good family men.  Such a tragic story.  It would have been great to see him survive, but alas, that was not in his cards.  My father's sisters, and many cousins live in Grants Pass.  It is a beautiful, beautiful place.

A man I dated back in the days just after my divorce instant messaged me this week.  It was fun re-connecting again.  I am impressed that the two of us have remained close.  I tease him about his constant quest for the perfect woman, all the while refusing to see him.  He is a dangerous temptation ... or does he say that about me ...or is it both...?  Anyhew, he lost his father this year and my heart goes out to him.   He loves all things Irish, so he is not a bad guy at all.  He has a real weakness for redheads which make him practically a saint.  I told him when he dated a girl I knew after we were done, I wanted to buy a voodoo doll and poke it with a hot candle every time I thought they might be having sex.  He laughs and gets my kind of redhead humor.  He then points out to me that my blog isn't always an easy read either when I write about other men.  Oh yeah - there's that.

Although I really don't do it for effect.  I write what my thoughts are on any given day and sometimes they include a man and sometimes they don't.  I don't think about if anyone is really reading this crap and am always surprised by the number of email I get each day.  It is usually followed by a "oh god did I really type that?" thoughts.  If it were soft paper I'd probably put some postings to work in the bathroom.

Brian made me go lift weights with him this week.  He is in YMCA Youth basketball and with it comes a gym membership.  What kind of karma is this?  As soon as he found out he can lift weights if an adult is present he has pushed my ass upstairs to the weight room.   I think if he could have gotten away with driving me there he would have tied me to the bumper.  A gym is an interesting place when you are a mom lifting weights with her son.  We get help and suggestions from men.  Brian is getting to the age where he looks at them with the "what do you want with my mom" look that makes me smile.  Its this look of boredom and eye rolling mastery which is quite impressive.  I assure him I will never date from the gym and will only lift weights with him.  I think I will make him come to my dance class at least once as pay-back.

Speaking of men, or dance or.... I manage my first dance class without falling on my ass or breaking anything or anyone.  My calves are sore though.  I did get one of those toe cramps the next day where your toe curls up backwards and you'd tell enemies our best kept secrets to alleviate the pain. It curls in that way that you never knew a toe can possibly bend. Sort of a ski jump looking thing.

This week my brother came to me for his refinance and I beat the competition by over a point with more cash out.  Of course his home is practically paid for, so he is an easy "client".  I am still in some sort of latent shock over him trusting me with his financial life.  Life can sure take some odd twists.  Of course he wants the loan to close by Christmas so I can have a commission check for Brian.  Maybe this is his way of giving me money without really writing a personal check, which of course,  I would tear up.  He now tells me I should handle all the loans for the Operating Engineers.  Do I have to?

Didn't I want to become a writer?

I worked with Stephanie Monday and Tuesday and got to putt around this little town called Sebastopol.  It was fun, funky and a good change in routine.  She is already getting response to the mailings I sent out.  She is a wonderful person.  I sometimes am amazed at the girlfriends I can attract in my life.  They say it is me, but I think it is them. 

My ex sister-in-law (my brother's ex wife) called and left a message this week inviting me and Brian to her house on Christmas day.  Lordy ... divorce gets complicated sometimes.  I don't know if I am up to being around the man she left my brother for ... now THAT'S an elephant sitting in the living room type of an event.

And I can say without reservation that I hate network TV.  They moved my show, "Men in Trees" from Friday nights ( which I loved as it is MY night to pamper myself) to Thursday nights and then postpone any episodes for three weeks.  It follows Grey's Anatomy which is now nothing but re-runs mid season.  This is why people turn to other programs and other forms of entertainment.  I am glad I am getting busy.  There is a Friday night Yoga class I am going to start tomorrow night. You know ... create my own version of "Men in Trees" ... maybe a "Men in Dreams"... 

I guess when one starts feeling well, it's timeto get on with life.  There is no time like the present.

Because we saw this week that it is all too preciously short.

Until nexttime-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Tags: A Week In the Life of A Redhead, Back to school, redhead bloggers

AOHELL

AOL Pictures is down, so no photos are presented at this time.  It is the only technical company I know that can consistantly mess up on a regular basis.