MORE HASHIMOTOS STORIES

Towards the end of my thyroid hell, when Doctors were still attempting to figure out what was wrong with me, I dated this guy, Bill who was sure my illness was all in my head.  I dropped him like a burning frying pan handle to the floor.  I knew it wasn't in my head.

Mary Shoman, a crusader for people suffering from Thyroid disease manages a web site to raise awareness about this particular type of auto-immune disease.  I often go out to her web site for support, understanding and the knowledge that there are others out there who suffer just as I have.  It is wonderful to know one is not alone in this disease.

In Mary's push to get Oprah to pay attention to this disease (still unsuccessfully), she posted stories from women who suffer from this disease.  I found a partner in symptoms from this article posted at:

http://thyroid.about.com/cs/publicawareness/l/bloprahletters.htm:  (<<--click here)

"I am a highly intelligent woman who spent my youth coasting through school, taking all the top honors classes but never having to study to make my straight A+ grades. I graduated at the top of my class with twice as many honors credits as any of my peers. I had participated in so many extracurricular activities that I earned four separate letter jackets! My bedroom was filled with my trophies and awards.

On a full academic scholarship, I headed off to college where I majored in math. It was just as easy as high school; I rarely had to study to earn top grades even though I also worked part time. I graduated Magna Cum Laude and was active in numerous clubs and social service groups throughout my college years. I married an Air Force officer and happily moved across the country with him.I worked part time and served on the board of our Officers' Wives Club; as a matter of fact, I held THREE board positions and wrote 2 different articles (on 2 different topics) for our monthly magazine (as well as being the asst editor). My life was rich and full and I never felt too busy or overwhelmed. It was easy..."

Please click on the link and read her full story.  It frightens me how much our stories are alike.  My closest friends will recognize me there.  The years of suffering, thinking I was going mad.  I think the problem was there for years, as working out made me tired and I worked out every day.  I chose night work outs because the exertion would exhaust me and help me to sleep.  Patrick thought I was crazy, able to work out an hour and a half every night before bed.  We should have guessed my metabolism was nuts.  I should have weighed 100 pounds. 

Please learn about Hashimotos and thyroid disease.  You may be able to help a woman you love, be it your wife, mother, daughter, sister, girlfriend... who is suffering needlessly not understanding what is happening to them.  My dearest friends know how I fought with the doctors to find out what was wrong and make it right.  Disease to me means that our bodies are out of sorts and without the knowledge of what is wrong we cannot support our bodies in a way that promotes healing.

I take liquid high dose vitamins everyday and make sure I rest.  I take my thyroid meds at the same time every morning and I track what is happening with my body and then give my notes to my doctors.  They either think I am the best or worst patient they have ever had.

So I am on a mission to let people see how a single mother deals with life while fighting a disease, raising a boy and living life through this blog. I never want anyone to go through what I have gone through - ever.  Maybe my blog will help just one person out there...

C

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

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Tags: http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com, Hashimotos Disease

TAMPONS WILL NOW MAKE GOOD CHRISTMAS TREE...

This online journal is like a long winding river which flows from a mountain peak, finding the path of least resistance as it travels back to its source, often running high and wild, other times still and almost dry.  It has been a week since I have done significant writing of any type.  For shame.  This would be known as the "river is dry" period...

I was a good girl this week and rested, restoring my energy.  I am getting better at managing my Hashimotos.  However...

I am in menopause.  TA DA. There, I said it.  Actually I am glad, as I understand that often menopause allows the thyroid to return to normal function, so maybe I will get lucky...?  This menopause thing is a new development.  Will I be sad not to have more children?  No, I love Brian and he fills my soul.  Besides, obviously my thyroid problem made getting pregnant difficult these past 25 years. 

Alas, FINALLY I am warm - let's throw a party.  We can make tampon angels and burn them...

Felicita's memorial service was Saturday.  We said our formal goodbyes to the end of an era.  My niece leaves for Boulder Colorado August 15th.  I wonder how much I will see these kids in the next 20 years....

La nostra pietra di paragone italiana e anddata.

C

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

SETBACKS

{Sigh} I have gone and done it to myself. 

This crash started about on Thursday when the heat wave began.  It was a stressful week.  The old aching from my toes to my head crept back with a vengence.  I ignored it, and ran out of my thyroid meds on Thursday.  I skipped Friday's dose and told myself I'd get around to refilling the prescription at the pharmacy up the street.  I mean, come on, I have been doing so well...

I suffer from my own pride of still not fully admitting that I must take extreme good care of myself.  I am not able to treat my life, and my body like I once did.  It has a mind of its own and brings me to my knees when I disobey.

When the nights are miserable and I am in severe pain caused by exhaustion and no recovery, depression settles in as I realize I am still fighting this dreaded thyroid condition.

I went to the pharmacy after my third nap today, and took the pills right at the counter.  My throat hurts terribly where my thyroid is located and it is difficult to swallow.  Now I must rest and try to recover, with lots of water, vitamins and soup.

Sunday I am suppose to help McYummy start his own blog and we were going to discuss the next step in my book...a whole day of artistic creating.  Now, all I feel like doing is sleeping.  It is times like this I wish I had an older relative on a ranch that could invite me out to stay a piece.  I'd rest, walk among the fields, write and be taken care of.

But alas, I do not.  Ebet usually does this for me, but I have not been able to make the trip to Folsom.  There is no way I could handle driving myself the three hours to get to her now.  She is also dealing with her own troubles at this time, and I would be in the way.

These are the times I do miss living with a man, one who could run things so I could take a break.  Although many of my friends complain that their men never take care of them when they are sick and the house just falls apart.  I think often men do more than we realize, they just don't do it "our way" so we don't give them their proper due.

I did manage a birthday dinner for my mother Friday evening.  SHe told me it looked like I had one shoulder lower than the other.  HUH?  Why do mothers do this to their daughters?  Why not just tell me my ass is sagging?  She did point out the bruises on my legs.  I think she forgets I am raising a boy, and I tackle a large garden.  My thoughts were "I AM EXHAUSTED - CAN"T YOU SEE??" but I didn't express them.  I just continued preparing the trout with my hump shoulder, sagging ass and bruises...

Thank god for the men who tell me I am pretty - including my son.  Yes people, I have asked my mother many times to stop, but she does not.  I can't be perfect, so I stopped trying a long time ago.  My mother forgets I gave up that quest.

I have taken three Alleve, a Sominex and a large glass of water ... hopefully I can now retire and get some sleep in the hopes I can recover enough to see McYummy and take another step forward to my dreams.

I'll try counting hump shouldered sheep...

C

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

LEAD FEATHERS

Well, knock me over with a feather.  My niece sent me a thank you for coming to her graduation and for the gifts.  I bought her a small white gold bracelet strung with hearts.  I also bought her a book.  I told her to take the bracelet away to college and whenever she is homesick to put it on and look at the hearts and remember that she is loved by many.  The book was letters from famous women to their young selves and I wrote a quote on the inside dedicated just for her. 

I do love her very much, and I think she is finally beginning to see that my mother, brother and myself have always steadfastly been there for her.  We don't show it with money - we show it with our deeds.  I think she was clouded by the divorce and is beginning to see that it takes two to make or break a relationship. 

I realized upon opening her thank you that it was the first written note I have ever received from her.  The thank you was heartfelt as she discussed the bracelet and what it meant and had started reading the book with fascination.

I am looking forward to writing her at college.  She asked me for care packages.  I thought it would be fun to write her about my life with Brian and Boonie and enclose fun goofy stuff from Brian, along with tampons, shampoo and hair products.  You know, the things we always run out of in college that are a bitch to pay for. 

She is going off to Colorado to study Nutrition to become a Nutritionist.  She is wicked enough smart to be a Scientist or an Engineer.  When i point this out to my mother, she raises one brow and says "Yes, she is a lot like you."  Ok, I get it.  I was a bitch and when everyone thought I would become this journalist I went off and studied marketing and moved in with Rich into our new home.  No one could tell me a thing.  So it is in the DNA then...?...

... I hear some faint yeses echoing in the distance...

C

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

DEAR DIARY

It's funny the emails and comments I get about this blog.  People forget it is my diary online.  Paper diaries don't follow a particular line, often are written in different inks and penmanship varies from day to day.  It is the same online.  Some days are boring, some funny, and others are sad.  Each entry strings together to create a mental photo in time of a persons thoughts on any given day.

Some days are too busy to write.  I am working out everyday and back to meditating.  Brian's summer has begun and managing his days is another part time job in itself.  An x boss and good friend has come to work at the office.  There is laughter in my days.

McYummy ran a marathon in LA this past weekend.  We are both making strides with our dreams.  I fear his book may get published first and this could really piss me off (laugh).  KIDDING.

Dale, my other x boss and our broker came up for a visit. A group of us went to lunch.  Steph met him and whispered "Wow he'd be perfect for you".  Ha ha.  I do agree, except he is a happily married man who is very committed to his family.  He is like Monopoly money to me.  He does take good care of me, and sometimes it is better to have great men as friends so we don't fu** it up and loose them.  Savvy?

It's interesting how I now find myself surrounded by quality men and my x husband even stepped up to the plate.  Maybe I had to get sick to be vulnerable enough to allow in a different type of man (or MEN) to my life.  Even my girlfriends are a wonderful, brilliant selective few.  I don't want to go back to what was around before.

My x husband observes, "The men you have dated (that I have seen) all seem like angry men with a chip on their shoulder and a couple of your female friends did too".  Well, I suppose it would take one to know one, but I'd have to agree.  He has commented that it is good to see that I have improved my standards.  Well...one could only go up (laugh).  But really I just stopped caring and got on with getting well, pursuing a dream and focusing on Brian.  Everything else just seemed to fall into place.

Ok, unless it falls apart.

HA!

C

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MENTAL LETTER TO SELF

Life is not a fairy tale, but I think the possibility exists for boys as they escape the confines of the classroom and run gleefully into long summer days.

Summer is the magical fairy tale for boys.  They can spend hours killing ants, swimming to explore Atlantis, invade countries from the backyard and win the world series with a handful of neighborhood kids and rocks for bases.

This fairy tale started for Brian at exactly 2:30pm on Friday with the sound of a school bell.  School is out for the summer.

His father drove him to a party and sleep over in Napa as I attended my nieces graduation from high school ... and probably the beginning of her fairy tale ...life away from high school.  We think we are set free when we graduate from high school - HA.

I am not one for regrets, because it wastes precious time in the present.  I gave my niece this book where women wrote letters to their younger selves.  If I were to write my younger, just-out-of-high-school self what would I say?  I think I'd say:

Dear Catherine,

Study the Arts.  You are talented and creative and after 19 years of ballet you know staging, props, stage make-up, and projection.  You have a beautiful singing voice.  You should - you have been voice trained for six years and sang in one of the top high school choirs.  Take some acting classes.  Try out for the theatre group.  Study the writing of stage plays.  Write one about redheads. Be less afraid.  Care less about boys.  Don't take college courses that please your mother.  You can't make her happy again after your father's death and you will hate your college courses.  She will be happy again on her own and marry Santa Claus.  You will be happy again too - so will your brother.  Embrace your creative side. 

Guess what?  You are so damn skinny a good wind could blow you away.  That isn't fat you see - it's in your head. But you don't see the thin do you?  Wear your beautiful red hair like a badge of courage.  Stay away from the party crowd - keep that freckled head in your books.  Keep Rich as a friend or you will spend seven years going in a circle.  Try and work for ACT in San Francisco.  You have beautiful breasts and pretty feet.

Save your money for a trip to Europe before you get married.  You will cancel the trip before college, so go later.  Don't keep putting it off.  I cannot tell you not to marry Terry, because you will want to, because of your future son Brian (who you will love more than you ever thought possible).  You will be a great mom and love being one.  Have separate bank accounts and credit though.  Make sure you have good job for all of your married life. Expect to be the one that does it all and either accept it, or get out early.

You will be great at computers - who knew?  Buy Nike, Dell and Microsoft stock.  Don't date the US Treasury Agent.  Choose the Engineer at Morrison Knudsen over Rich.  Once divorced, don't waste your time with Patrick.  Don't date married men or any man who is just out of a relationship.  You will learn this late in life if you don't.

Skip working in corporate America.  They will suck the life out of you.  Creativity doesn't fit in their square box.  Besides, people will work 65 hours a week and invest in pensions only to have a food company buy and sell them off.  Go elsewhere for employment.  Rats looking for cheese have abetter life than a cubicle corporate executive.

You have a wicked sense of humor and are great fun.  Be fussy as to who you share this with.  A girl KB may come along and change your life, along with Elisabet and Stephanie.  You will treasure Laura forever.  Have more girlfriend parties....make June come.

I don't have to tell you to love and honor your mother, Catherine - you always have.  She will always be there for you.  She loves you more than you know.  You are not responsible for her.  Ignore your brother's sharp tongue early.  He will never really get over your Father's death.  It will be hardest on him - give him a wide berth.  If you can introduce him to Lily's friend Teresa before he gets married or Teresa gets married, then they are a match for each other.  Otherwise, drive him to the airport to stop Diana from leaving.  If he won't go, take your mother and the two of you go to the airport.  She will forever be "the one that got away".

You will always miss your Father.  There is nothing you can do about that, but once Brian is born, you learn to open up and let your heart be vulnerable again.  Santa Claus will walk you down the isle - how can that be bad?

Love,

Your older Catherine

PS.  OHH!! Have your thyroid checked for the antibodies that cause Hashimotos.  This could save you volumes with your health.

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OK...SO CAN I RANT?

Maybe I am pmsing...who knows.

Or this is just redheaded attitude.

But, for many years now, I thank God regularly that I am not raising a girl.  I have a niece ... the only niece I will ever have ... and she sometimes pisses me off.

She is graduating from high school Friday night.

I know girls go through this "I know everything.  I am wonderful.  Bow down you mere foolish people and honor me" stage, but my issue with my niece has to do with her treatment of those I love dearly.  Sometimes I just want to ask her if she really knows how much my broher, mother and myself have loved her over the years.

Her treatment of my mother can be disrespectful.  Out of respect for my mother I haven't yanked her out in the backyard at a family function and told her what I think of her attitude towards my mom.  But then she is just at this age where she doesn't see it.

However, my mother saw her own father die at age three, survived the great depression, put herself through college, became an RN, lost my little sister, buried my father, buried her mother, buried her step father, buried her second husband and put both me and my brother through college.  She witnessed our house cat of 15 years get run over by a car and saw her flopping body stuck to the pavement.  She ran and got a shovel and put our cat out of her misery, then sat down on the curb and cried.  She is a saint in my book and I want to ring my nieces neck when she dismisses her.

The latest has to do with graduation invitations.  My niece never sent one to my mother ... or to me for that matter.  My mother is really hurt.  We are talking a straight A student here.  I was a straight A student and I made sure that my family was invited to my graduation.  I personally took the time to write little handwritten notes in each invitation and told them how they helped me through the years growing up.  I am hoping when she is away at college she begins to see her family in a different light.  We are not the enemy.

Meanwhile, my own son finishes 5th grade tomorrow and is invited (along with me) to a party in Napa that I would rather attend with people who love us more than my niece.  My brother called tonight asking that I come to his daughter's graduation - trying to mend the holes she has shot through his family's importance.  So, for my brother I will go.  I would go to hell for him - and if you have sat through any long graduation ceremonies lately you might think you have been the fiery dungeon.  Besides, this is only a teenage phase with my niece and there is much to admire about her.  I would feel bad if I hurt her over not being at her graduation - it's just the way I am.

***

Before I even finish the rant I have a comment from V.  I did the nice Aunt thing, forgave her past digressions and went.  Yes ... I did buy gifts ... and no, one wasn't a manners book.  I do understand this age with girls.  My niece graduated in the top 10% in the state of California.  Brains she has got.  What she will do with them will be interesting to see.

Hopefully she will grow up and come back around to be a wonderful human being again.  Soon, she is off to Colorado to college.

Oh... to be starting out in life.

C

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

 

HEREEEEEEEEEEEEE'SSSSSS JOHNNY

http://www.evite.com/pages/invite/viewInvite.jsp?inviteId=PEMRAVKPCOEKRAXDYANH&li=iq&src=email&trk=aei6 (<<--click here)

Ah...now he could eat crackers in my bed any day... SAVVY?

C

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

TO HEALTH AND WARMTH

The past couple of days a heat spell hovers like a warm blanket.  Heat is sensual to me.  I toss and turn upon my silk sheets, thinking all kinds of redheaded thoughts.  I could drive a man wild in this weather.  Warm weather is my turn on - my sexual aphrodisiac.  Of course, I have to love the guy - otherwise the fantasies in my head are better.  So guys ...leave me alone on this one.

It's funny, because Hashimoto's symptoms are a low body temperature and most of the time I am freezing cold.  The warm weather comes and it washes over me like a warm bath and suddenly I feel alive.  I do wonder if it is all somehow interconnected and the doctors haven't figured it out yet.

When I have one of my extreme cold spells (where even a hot shower will not warm me) I pull a thick blanket over me and cover the heat vent.  The hot air fills the blanket like a hot air balloon with me in the middle.  The coldness depresses and exhausts me and I fall asleep over the heater.  About an hour later I wake up, warm and feeling better.  It is the oddest thing.  Like a diabetic needing insulin, I need to raise my body temperature.  Both are auto-immune diseases.

I love the feel of sweat on my brow and the urge to strip to the minimum.  I walk barefoot through everything and play my favorite music.  I catch myself singing and dancing.

C

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

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FRIDAY NIGHT

Champagne...
Dinner, with laughter
Sensuality
Fun
Walking sweetly
Bumping into
Old friends
Beer...
Talk, with laughter
Innocence
Fun
Walking sweetly
Falling into
New sheets

NIGHT TIME GIRL TALK

Look at me... lately ... I am just not writing...

I suppose this happens to writers some times.  Believe it or not I am a fairly private person so there are chunks of my life I don't write here.  Some of it is about protecting my son other times I just don't want to write about it all.

Plus, oddly enough ... I have been busy.  Be proud.  I painted the bathroom.  I restored my gardens to indisputable beauty.  I work out everyday - yes everyday.  Brian and I finished his last school project. The loan business is booming.  Where is my time to write?

So, the meds are working.  TA DA.  T3 is the secret panacea of thyroid restoration in my book.  I wonder how many untold others become as sick as I was and never receive proper medical attention.  It was my anger, study, persistence and refusal to stay with treatments that slowly pulled me up from the hell I was sliding into.

I am not quite back, but I am better.  The brain fog is gone, the endless need to sleep, the painful fatigue and joint ache and weight gain are all becoming a distant memory.

[Hang on - have to take a break - girlfriend J instant Messeges me]

 J:  You there?
Me:  Yes, just writing to Sex and The City
J:  oh, wow, don't let me stop you!

Me:  ...what's up?
J:  someone sent me something, and one line is bothering me, just wondering if it should...it's been in my mind for days... lemme get it
Me:  ok...I am all yours
J:  dang, having trouble opening it
J:  lemme see, there must be a way
J:  it was one of them chain thingies, I don't send them along, never know what they have attached to them these days, but I did glance at this one...and one line just stuck in my brain, I want to get it right...
Me:  what...if you don't send it a redhead will die by Sunday? (some are hoping)
J:  I found the line.  it's about knowing that your love for each other should never be confused by your need of each other.  I'm seriously confused I think.  Something about your love for each other should never be eclipsed by your need for each other, or confused by your need for each other, well I can tell you, I'm a bit confused in general
Me:  and...this is unusual how...?
J:  i have never needed someone to help me as much as I have these last several weeks with my leg casted,a nd being unable to do the most basic things for myself, such as carry my purse or drive. and I'm so happy to have him here to do that for me. I feel angry that I need someone so much, but then I'm happy to have someone there, blessed I guess, but then I think, has my need for him eclipsed by love for him, strange huh?
Me:  so you were thinking..."Is this my sign?"...of the chain gang email...
Me:  feckin chain letters...burn them I say ... you will note men never forward that crap
J:  hahahaha well, it was pages of stuff, and this one jumped out at me, much of it was good stuff, or rather - all of it is, but this one stuck in my head, and I have thought about it often
Me:  oh I am hopeless at all this ... I don't believe in love at first sight ... and I am pretty sure 75% of the world doesn't get what real love is ....and the 25% who do are all women ...so he needs ya or he loves ya...the big question is...is he good in bed
J:  I think you have that on target, I bet you are part of the 25% ;)
Me:  so its pretty much who does a man need, since they don't get the whole love thing ... with them it is "Sex at first sight" - they pretend it is love at first sight and then are shocked when it all crashes and burns.
Me:  lol ... yeah well with my fusiness it could be my next life that I meet my soulmate...he'll prolly be a tree and I'll be a skunk...
J:  you could belike me,settle....and still have to wait until your next life to meet your soulmate! haha!
Me:  lol...I married the "settle" one and look where that got me...
J:  Trust me, I can't call him my soul mate, ya know why, because I don't know what that means.  that's how I know he isn't.  I love him, but that'sa given, soul mate, I don't think I can toss that around this time.I'm not unhappy about it, not searching for it, but have resolved that this is how it is
Me:  I think a soulmate is your best friend in a guy with a bit of passion thrown on top ... its my guess anyway
J:  yes, he's my best friend now, but I can flake that around, passion?  I don't think that's it, [CENSORED FOR J] so there ya go. I don't complain, I have acompanion, but I was thinking that's the status you give each other in your 70's, not this soon! hahaha
Me:  well ... he does carry your purse
J:  HAAAAAAAA when he buys me a box of tampons, then we have arrived, I've just never had to wait this long for that arrival.  I'm off to bed.  I am sorry about Felicita.
Me:  thank you - you got to experience her over the years...remember my wedding shower?
J:  Not as well as I wish I did.

Me:  You brought the cake ...
J:  wow, I hope it was good
Me:  lol...you were late and Felicita told you so ...I think we hid in the corner and drank champagne ...I should have took it as my sign to run.
J:  I don't recall the reprimand, which if I heard it, would stick longer than the icing to my body! hahaha
Me My sister in law hid in her bedroom...It was a classic italian affair
J:  I really do have recall problems.
Me:  so you forget all the men at the bank when we worked there too?
J:  some
Me:  well then see...my shower didn't have any men - that explains it...no worries
J:  some things I recall, like the time the manager told me to get a bra on, and then when Sharon told me my brother looked suspicious
Me:  well come over sometime - I'll fill you in and invent some new stuff that makes me look like the better Teller
J:  sounds good:)
Me:  You've been under amountain of stress for quite a few years now
J:  Mom always said, don't learn to type, you will end up a secretary, maybe it's best you weren't the top Teller then you'd end up like some of those ladies, Teller's until retirement! hahaha
Me:  no - I would have married one of the businessmen that came into bank...even if I had to flash a breast
J:  hahahahah
J:  Nite friend :)

See...we women can laugh at ourselves...

Until next time-

C

THE LONG GOODBYE

On April 28, 1945 in Giulino di Mezzegra near Lake Como, Mussolini attempted an escape to Switzerland with his mistress Clara Petacci. Italian partisans captured and shot them.  Among the crowd that witnessed this event was a young Italian girl named Felicita.  It would prove to be a defining story in her life, one that changed her forever.

Felicita went on to marry and migrate to America, where she settled in Forestville California.  Her husband went to work for Bohemian Grove as an accountant.  Felicita stayed home raising a daughter, a son and invested her husband's earnings, slowly building a small fortune.

Felicita's daughter Lily (Liliana) would grow up locally and first cast her eyes on my older brother Michael from across the dance floor at a Santa Rosa hot spot named Refectory.  She was underage, but it didn't stop her from persuing a relationship with my brother, who was almost 10 years her senior.

It was the same place where my brother introduced me to Rich for the very first time.  So many people I know, met and married from going out dancing at the Refectory.  Well ... Sparks was a great band.

I don't remember when I first met Felicita, being a strong "old school" Italian, she was all about meeting the families.  I know I liked her immediately, as she reminded me of the only Nonno (grandpa) I ever knew, Isidor D'Angelo.  My mother's father died when she was three and my Irish Grandma married a Sicilian.  Seems he had left Sicily to escape joining the mob.  My two uncles are half Irish/ half Italian.

I was right at home in the craziness that was to be the other Italian side of my family.  From the very beginning Felicita would say, "What you doing width him (pointing to Rich)?  He no Italian.  He no love you and provide for you like a Italian man.  We need find you a good Italian!"  I would always laugh.

Lily and my brother married in 1983 and Felicita became like an aunt to me.  Every time she saw me and Rich she would complain that he was "No right for you!"  Until finally one celebration night where the entire family was having dinner at Cattlemens restaurant.  Felicita was seated directly across from us and as usual, she poured the wine and began to tell me of the latest Italian man she found for me.  Not able to take it anymore, Rich cleared his throat and said, "I AM Italian!"  Felicita stops, and stares at him.  "You no Italian.  Johnson no Italian name!"  Rich presses on, "Johnson is my adopted name, my real last name is Cichello".  Felicita stares at him for a moment, gets out her purse and a piece of paper and says, "How you spell?"  "C I C H E L L O" Rich slowly answers as his face turns red from containing his anger.  She writes it out, stares at it and says "He's ok Cathi - you can marry" and from then on Rich was good enough for me.

Through the years she watched Mike and Lily have children, Shannon and Jonny.  She was there for my wedding shower and baby shower and held Brian in her arms.  Once I was divorced she mailed me money from time to time, saying she saw how hard I worked and wanted "Just to help a little".  Every Christmas she spoiled Brian rotten.  We saw the death of her husband from cancer and the marriage of her son.  Over a 25 year span, we saw many Easter picnics, Christmas dinners, birthday parties, Thanksgiving banquets, funeral processions and Italian club dinners.

At every function she would look to see if I brought a new man.  If not, she would tell me about some Italian restaurant owner who is single that she wanted to fix me up with.  From time to time I would get a call from some 75 year old man asking me out for a blind date.  When I would tell Felicita he was too old she would always say "Oh pshhhh, he owns blah blah and drives this and that etc etc and will take good care of you and Brian. I no worry about you no more then!"  I would refuse the date and receive a lecture from Felicita about being "too fussy".  But she would often go on to say, "You are amazing bright girl who always find good job - you no depend on no one.  This is good.  My daughter could learn much from you!"

Two years ago we got the news that Felicita had cancer.  The news arrived along the same time that Mike and Lily's marriage began to fail.  Once Lily and Mike filed for divorce Felicita said, "It was the end to me". She was right about that point.

Felicita left this world on Saturday May 27th 2006 at 9:30 in the morning. She died at home, in her king size bed surrounded by family and paintings of Italy.

Once again, I have lost family to cancer and our family is forever changed.  It is a constant theme in my life that life is gone in a moment and we must all seize the day. So few people really get it.  

I will sure miss her and all her Italianess...

A brief candle; both ends burning
An endless mile; a bus wheel turning
A friend to share the lonesome times
A handshake and a sip of wine
So say it loud and let it ring
We are all a part of everything
The future, present and the past
Fly on proud bird
You're free at last.

Until next time-

C

PS.  My son Brian's birthday is April 28th ... imagine what Felicita thought of this ... and ... what are the odds?  Brian was born EXACTLY 50 years to the date that Mossallini was shot in front of Felicita.

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AIRBORNE EARLY WARNING

Does everyone remember my term “Guydar”?

 

Guydar is a name I gave to the event when guys you haven’t heard from start contacting you again just as you are getting on with your life.  Guydar is a system that uses some sort of special guy frequency waves to detect, determine the distance or speed of which a female object of their affection is pulling away and target said female. Detection of another man by the guy is measured by the amount of interest the object of their affection’s frequency shifts off them.  Some sort of secret transmitter emits the “female is distracted” waves, which are reflected by the female target and detected by the x boyfriend, x husband, x lover, x dog etc (typically not in the same location). This transmission forces the guy to call, email or in some way begin contacting the target once again.

 

GUYDAR.

 

So John has a case of Guydar…

   

In a message dated 5/30/2006 7:22:51 A.M. Pacific Standard Time

 

Subject:  I am coming for you girl......

 

John_____@_____________.com writes:

 

I hope you will be there the weekend of 6/30 - 7/2.

  

John

VP - Controller

Investment Management Co.

 

So what’s your secret John?

 

C

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REDHEADISMS

A husband had just finished reading a new book entitled: "Guide to living with a redhead: You Can Be the Man of Your House."

 

He stormed into the kitchen and walked directly up to his redheaded wife and said sternly, "From now on, you need to know that I am the man of this house and my word is law! You will prepare me a gourmet meal tonight, and when I'm finished eating my meal, you will serve me a sumptuous dessert. After dinner you are going to go upstairs with me, and we will have the kind of sex that I want instead of what you want. After that, you are going to draw me my bath so I can relax. You will wash my back and towel me dry and bring me my robe. Then you will massage my feet and hands. Then after that's
done, guess who's going to dress me and comb my hair?"

To which the redhead replied, "The funeral director would be my guess..."

ILLUSION

Magic can be defined as something that seems to cast a spell.  I am spellbound by what is unfolding before me in my life - pure magic. 

After such a long arduous journey, I suddenly find myself basking in the sunlight again.  It is so bright, in fact, that I must put my hand above my forhead to filter the happiness that is reigning down on me.  Otherwise I wouldn't be able to focus, let alone breathe.

McYummy and I have chatted almost every day and I find him quite facinating ... almost the male version of me ... yet strong in the areas I am weak.  I know God brought him into my life - I feel it in my bones.  Now if I can only remember to breathe when he is around.  That's all I need is to pass out and hit my head on a chair as I fall to the floor...

Side bar: Old friends are coming to work with me and suddenly I am finding I am accidently starting a small Mortgage Company.  How did THAT happen?

Maybe they all want to rescue me from having to be around my x husband ... a buffer.

They are very positive, spiritual people.  Wow...to work around people that are happy all the time ... what a concept.

Of course, they in turn, are forced to be around the redhead...

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

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HAVE FUN, EVEN IF IT KILLS YOU...

Ok, so as the Lucille Ball of erotic redheads I think there are some of you out there who can appreciate the start to my weekend.

After Friday's craziness I decide to postpone leaving for Folsom until Saturday.  I bring home Sushi and pull out a movie to relax.  I have a nice evening and retire to bed early.  I decide to flip on the dishwasher as I go off to bed.

Once in bed I can't sleep, so I decide to riffle through my own personal toy chest, settling for one of my old electric standards.  I close my eyes, relax into the rich fantasy that is a redheads brain.  Midway into my erotic fantasy, a loud boom sounds and all the electricity goes off.  KAPUT.

At first I thought all the electricity on the block was out, just MY luck - mid fantasy.  I rise from the bed and look outside to a fully lit street.  Curious, I walk out my front door (yes I put on a robe people) only to find neighbors lights and the outdoor lights are all on.

Seems I blew a fuse - how is that for some powerful redheaded mojo?

I go back inside to a black home and riffle around searching for a lighter.  When I can't find one to light a candle, suddenly I begin to get a little scared, just like when I was a little girl alone in the dark.  It's funny the things that can come up in the middle of the night - even as an adult.

I finally find a lighter and light a few candles. Great, now I have ambiance and no batteries.  I am not going to the store.  I find my way to the indoor breaker switches and trip them all - nothing.  To hell with it - I go back to bed and fall asleep.

The next morning I awake to no electricity.  I go out to the outside box and I can't get the outside breaker switch to stay on.  I tell you - that is some old "toy"  I've got.  No wonder I am not remarried.

Now I can't go to Folsom, because I have to call for an electrician to come out and get my electricity turned back on.  Thank GOD there is a Starbucks two blocks away.  The electrician tries to tell me to just flip on the outside switch.  I hate it when men treat women like we can't tie our shoes on our own.  I explain that I have tried that SEVERAL times.  The electrician has no idea what I will do for my first cup of morning coffee...

So he agrees to come out and take a look.  I go off to Starbucks and stop by work to complete some leftover loan problems from Friday.  While I am there, the electrician calls me on the cell "All fixed" he tells me.  I go home and find the lights on ... and my toy vibrating away under the covers in my bed.

You know, you just can't make this shi* up...

Until next time-

C

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ONE NEED NOT BE IN A CHAMBER TO BE HAUNTED...

It was an eventful week, well in the terms of my life. 

I joined the gym and worked out.  I still get tired after the work out, but I sleep like a baby.  Baby sleep is heaven after almost three years of waking up, or staying up most of the night, and finally getting my best sleep at 6 am.

I was thinking about this on Thursday evening, when I saw Oscar at Brian's Back-To-School night.  He was sitting on a stone wall at the edge of the garden, just off the playground.  He was in jeans and a blue shirt.  Somehow my eyes always find him in a crowd.

Oscar and I were dating as I just came into the disease.  He was hurting, really bleeding from his own divorce, and there I was slowly deteriorating before his eyes. His wife had left him for someone else, and no matter how hard he tried to be a good guy, he was permanently damaged material.  In spite of this, he did manage to chase me around my living room to lots of laughter.

Once when the doctors were still scratching their heads as to what was wrong, Oscar calls and says, "I know you feel like shi*, but I have this movie your son would like, and if you tell me what you both want, I'll bring it over and feed you both dinner."  Brian wanted pizza, so Oscar ordered Brian's favorite and came over with some blood thirsty movie that Brian loved.

I layed on the couch in my jammies under a blanket while Oscar sat at the end, watching Brian and me.  It was kind, because Brian must have been confused about what was happening to his once very lively mom, and there was Oscar bringing a normal Friday night into our home.  I hate violent movies, so I spent most of the movie hidden under my blanket with Oscar and Brian making fun of me.

Once the movie ended, Oscar picked up the plates and bid us farewell and went on home.  It was truly a kind jesture.  I am not sure I ever really thanked him.  I was so caught up in fear about what was happening to me and my body.  My father was diagnosed with cancer when he was my age and was dead at 48.  Every time a drop of my blood was drawn, an x-ray crossed my body, a sonogram, or an examination, I would remember my dad.  It was hell.

Eventually I couldn't handle Oscar's hurt and my fear of what was happening to me and I pushed him away with all my might.  He wasn't the guy for me, but that is not to say that I didn't find him wonderful.  I loved our long phone conversations in the middle of the night,  He would always seek me out online, and ask, "Can't sleep?"  To which I'd reply, "No".  He then would say "Want me to call you" and I'd say, "Yes please".  The phone would ring before I could turn out the lights.  I'd crawl in bed and Oscar would begin to tell me a story.  I love a good story.

He'd get me to laugh and forget my fears.  We'd talk of Mexico and business, work outs and chocolate, boys verses girls, children, you name it until he would wear me out with laughter.  Exhausted I would begin to drift off.  He would then say "It's time for sleep" and say good night.

He understood the hard time my x husband had given me.  He told me that some men just don't ever forgive you for leaving, and since he thought I was especially sweet, he surmised that my x would attempt to haunt me forever.  The prospect of this didn't seem to bother him much since he is twice my x husband's size.  My x once said, "Gee that guy is big enough to kick my ass".  Of which I responded "One can only hope..."

Oscar often would say, "Catherine you are like a beautiful fast train pulling out of the station and I am the guy left on the platform watching you speed off into an amazing future."  I used to answer, "Then just get on before I leave".  But he couldn't.  He was too broken.

So there he was, the man I run from in Albertsons, who God with his sick sense of humor seems to enjoy throwing us togther, sitting just beyond me at my son's school night.  I knew he had seen Brian perform, but I couldn't look at him.  I couldn't go talk to him.  It is just the way I am.  I wouldn't talk to my x if it weren't for Brian.  The women who come around him at the office think that he must be wonderful if his x wife is around.  I am often amazed at how clueless women are to the fact that I am only around for Brian.  All of this is about Brian,  Oscar got that.  He would say,  "The kids come first".

I wonder if he could tell that I am doing better and am on my way back from hell.  I saw him watch us we walked away to my son's classroom.  He has this way of looking at me with these haunting gazes. (Maybe he is really thinking oh shit there she is - that redheaded nut! lol).  Life is often so much about timing.

Brian is counting the days to the end of school.  I am right there with him. 

A woman I know in the business brought in 17 construction loans to the office on Thursday.  I wanted to go away to Folsom and play this weekend, but it is looking more and more like there is too much work here.

I did manage to start painting the bathroom...

Hey - sex could be next.

Until next time-

C

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THE FUTURE LOOKS SWEATY

Oh, and yes - I joined the gym.  My first trainer-kill me session is at 8:30 tomorrow morning.  TA DA.

I would rather take pole dance lessons (and I am not kidding) but there is no S Factor studio in podunk Santa Rosa (www.sfactor.com).  The closest is in SF.  Actually, there aren't any good dance classes for older women in Santa Rosa - or even Sonoma County for that matter.  I think if a woman opened a dance studio for women over 35 that incorporated the S Factor and Yoga to dance music, etc etc she'd make a killing.

I'd love to move to music in a way that doesn't involve fake steps, lunges, or running in place.  DANCING - real DANCING to burn those calories.  Teach us club moves where we don't look like we are in the Army Boot camp.  Even better, how about some sexual position strengthening exercises?

But hey - I'll just have to start with the usual.  If my place was bigger I'd buy that pole from S Factor with the video and start the classes myself.

Until next time-

C

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SYMPOSING THAT...

McYummy and I had lunch today.

He makes me think of Von Meck's statement, "...I am conscious that you are near; your presence seems  to inhabit the air  about me ...your nearness is a never-ending delight..."  I cannot find the words to properly express how relaxed I feel when we are together.  It's nice.  It is like he can say anything to me, and I to him.  I have found a shady spot away from the heat.

McYummy dear, in honor of our lunch conversation in regards to Plato I post the following ... in case you should stop by here for a read:

According to Plato's creation story in the Symposium... In the beginning there was only one human. And this human was "created perfection." The strange thing was that this first "created perfection" human had all the "necessary" male parts, as well as having all the "necessary" female parts. But this perfect human felt they had everything and did not need the Gods.  So Zeus tragically split the human apart – and since then, the two halves have been forever searching for one another in order to join together and regain their sense of original created wholeness. "Each of us when separated, having one side only... is but indenture of a man, and he is always looking for his other half."

McYummy, you still must admit ... it's a great story.

Until next time-

C

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