Summer's here

Summer finally came to Palatine, Illinois. So I packed up my sunscreen and my kid and went to the pool. Now, our pool here in Palatine is not just a stupid lap pool with a diving board. Nope, it's called the Family Aquatic Center and it is like a mini water park. It's one of the reasons we moved to Palatine. You see, I grew up in a town called Crystal Lake. (Yes, just like the Friday the 13th movies. Nothing as exciting as some crazed killer in a hockey mask killing horny teenagers having sex in a cabin happened in my hometown. If that had happened, my graduating class would have been cut in half.)Well, we didn't have public pools in Crystal Lake because we had...a LAKE. However, every year when I went to visit my cousins in New Jersey we went to their town's public pool. I thought that was the coolest thing ever. Plus, even at a young age I had all kinds of OCD crap going on. I don't like sand because it never really washes all the way off and I hated getting in the car with sand anywhere on my body or feet. And all the sand gets stuck to your wet towel and then you can't wrap it around yourself or you get even more sand stuck to you. I don't like lakes because there's all kinds of green algae crap floating around. Additionally, when you walk around in a lake you never know what you are going to step on. That just creeps me out. And, the water is really murky so you KNOW all the kids pee in there because nobody can tell if you're peeing or not. So, the idea of a public pool was quite exciting for me.
Therefore, when we were looking at houses and I found out that the Palatine Park District has a plethora of public pools for our summer swimming pleasure I was thrilled. In the summer the pool is my happy place. I love the smell of chlorine and sunscreen.
The best thing about the pool though is the people watching. Today was a banner day for that because it is Saturday and everybody and their brother was at the pool. Here are some of the highlights:
I enjoyed the Middle Eastern man with so much body hair that he looked like a Brillo pad. However, he looked like he had been heavily dusted with powdered sugar, but only from his nipples up. Honestly, the abundance of hair from his nipples up was pure white. Then, right at his neck the hair just ended. Everything from there up was bald. I don't even think he had eyebrows. It was the weirdest thing.
I enjoyed the really skinny mom of two with the worst boob job ever. They looked like two cupcakes stuck on a skeleton. She was really proud of them too because her bathing suit top (she had on a tankini) was cut down to her naval. I couldn't stop looking at them. She probably thought I was a lesbian.
Speaking of lesbians, there was a lesbian couple there. (At least I assume they were lesbians. I suppose they could have been 50 year old spinster sisters with their adopted Chinese kid. I am going with the lesbian assumption though.) They stood out not because they were lesbians, but because they looked exactly alike. They looked like a 50 year old version of Chastity Bono. Okay, that's a picture of Chastity Bono. She goes by the name CHAZ now and is undergoing a sex change operation. (I'm throwing that in there for my non-People reading friends.)
Anyway, the funniest thing about this couple was that they had on the exact same black bathing suit and they had stars tattooed all over their right calves. You couldn't help but do a double take.
AND, speaking of tattoos, I enjoyed the variety of tattoos today. There was a fairly large group of Hispanic men there today and they all had a tattoo of Jesus somewhere on their body. But not just any Jesus, it was the crying Jesus with the crown of thorns on His head. And these tattoos were HUGE. One guy had it on his upper chest and had the name Jesus tattooed around his belly button in 2 inch high letters. I don't know if he was labeling his tattoo (in case someone didn't know who it was) or if that was HIS name.
There was your usual group of trashy 20 year old girls with their tramp stamps. You have to wonder if some day they will wake up in the morning and say, "What was I thinking having the name of that motherfucker tattooed on my lower back surrounded by flowers and doves?"
I also enjoyed some of the hot dads. There was one that had a little boy and this dad was smokin' hot. He had a great tan (I think he was Italian, so he probably acquired that tan today) and a washboard stomach and the whitest teeth I've seen since Adam Lambert.Well, how about that? I managed to find a way to bring this all back to Adam Lambert, who I adore. I'm telling you, he was too good for American Idol. Seriously, that stage was just too small for my boy Adam. If I had a son I would want him to be just like Adam Lambert.
More on Adam Lambert later in the week...let's get back to the pool.
Here is the deal: most women who have had a kid or two do not have terrific bodies. One is bound to have a stretch mark (I don't, but I was extremely moisturized throughout both of my pregnancies) or a little cellulite or a less than tight stomach. I have an okay figure for a mom of my age, but I'm not going to the family Aquatic Center in a string bikini! Seriously, cover that shit up! I can't believe some of these women look at themselves in the strategically placed full length mirror in the locker room on the way out to the pool and think, "I look fantastic. I am going to take off my sarong today and show everyone as much as possible." I was sitting in the shallow end of the pool and this mom walked in front of me. Right when she was directly in my line of vision, she bent over at the waist to say something to her 2 year old. Good Lord! I felt like a gynecologist. No one wants to see that! Bottom line...never bend over at the waist in a bathing suit unless you are under the age of 10.

My Dad

Well, it's been three weeks since my dad died. Three weeks. Three weeks seems like FOREVER when that's how many weeks there are until Christmas. Three weeks seems like a really short time when that's all the time there is before your 40th birthday. I'm not sure how I feel about three weeks in this case. All I know is that I wish I had three more weeks with my dad.
Seeing as many of you were unable to come to my dad's memorial service, I thought I would share a few photos of him with you

This picture was taken in the time I like to call "B.C." (Before Carolyn) I imagine that they were just on their way to church or something...I wonder who took the picture? Look how much happier everyone looks now that I have been born! Look at our fabulous short haircuts!
Ah yes, the Eighties were an ugly time for hair...and eyeglasses for that matter. I do believe that is a Guess jean jacket though. This is outside my apartment in college. This is how I remember my dad best. Smiling and always giving me a hug that was just this short of painful. I'm pretty sure he bought me some groceries before he left town. Beer too. Here is my dad with Brenna. I can't believe he's repotting that plant on the carpet! He was a notorious neat nick. I never would have gotten away with that when I was a kid. But for his princess granddaughter...anything!!
This was taken in my parent's place in Galena. We were just about to leave for my wedding to Tony. However, my dad was having a very important conversation with Brenna and we were a little late.
This is Dad with Bronte. At this point he was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. I wish Bronte had known him then. All her memories of Grampa are of the late stages. He always loved my kids though, even when he didn't know exactly who they were.
I know, it's hard to believe I was in a sorority. Don't worry, they wised up after a year and kicked me out. But they didn't kick me out until my dad was named Dad of the Year because of an essay I wrote about him. He was so surprised! I am glad I got the opportunity to let him know how much I thought of him. Even though he only got that lame Burger King crown and some kind of a statue, I know he was touched.
This is at my wedding to Tony. Dad was starting to show signs of Alzheimer's then, but not a whole lot. He had so much fun at the reception. AND, look at my fabulous shoes!

Planning Dad's memorial service was quite an undertaking. Pastor Morris (my buddy Michael) had a lot of ideas and things he had done before, all of which I nixed. I wanted very specific hymns, I wanted the Bible passages I wanted (Michael suggested talking about Moses and how God kept his promises to him. I said, "Didn't Moses get only to SEE the promised land, but not ACTUALLY GET THERE? Hmmm...") and I had a whole service mapped out. Michael just let me go with it.

The service opened with my friend Nancy singing "Untitled Hymn (Come To Jesus)" and she was fantastic! I thought it would make me cry, but the love Nancy has for my family and her unwavering faith in Jesus made it so joyful. That set the tone. The whole rest of the service was just a joyous remembrance of my dad. Bronte read the 23rd Psalm and remembered to keep eye contact with the crowd. It was great. People stood up and remembered my dad with funny stories. Michael delivered a wonderfully uplifting sermon. Brenna sang "How Great Thou Art" after my eulogy and she made everyone smile and cry a little too.

Speaking of the eulogy...here it is: (Thanks to John Eaton for calling me just when I needed it and giving me the strength to get through it.)

Although I really have no fear of public speaking, I was a little nervous about getting up here today. The past week or so has been so difficult and I just didn’t know where to start with my memories about Dad. I didn’t want to get up here and break down or not make any sense because to eulogize one’s father is such a daunting task. Then I was reminded that this is an HONOR. It is an honor to be able to speak for my father. It is an honor to be able to tell you my memories of this wonderful man. It is an honor to share my father with you.
My father was a hard man to dislike. He had a story for every situation. He enjoyed every new experience, whether it was a musical downtown or ice fishing on Crystal Lake. Yes, he was opinionated. I recall hearing the phrase, “Well, you can do it my way or the wrong way,” more than once. Some might see that as arrogance, but I always saw it as confidence…and occasionally as an opportunity to prove him wrong. Dad constantly challenged me to do my best. I don’t think that he ever thought there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do if I just put my mind to it. He was never satisfied with taking the easy way out. Another of his famous phrases was, “anything worth doing is worth doing right.” As a kid I thought he was just impossible to please at times, but I am grateful every day that Dad had the confidence in me to strive for the best I could do. He always made me feel like I could do anything if I were determined. What greater gift to give a child? Although it would be easy to say that Dad pushed me, I would rather have the memory of his confidence in me than memories of someone who didn’t think I could ever amount to anything.
I remember my dad’s love of puzzles. He and my mother would do the Jumble in the newspaper everyday. They didn’t exactly do it together, but they did it simultaneously to see who could finish first. Also, I don’t believe a Sunday ever went by that he didn’t do the crossword puzzle in the Chicago Tribune. The funny thing is, my dad was allergic to newsprint. So, for the hour or so that he would work on the puzzle he would sneeze. Constantly. Dad liked to do the crossword puzzle alone. He didn’t share or ask for help ever, he liked to do it independently. I can only remember one exception to this; when Brenna was a little baby, she got a cold. Like any new mother, I panicked and didn’t sleep because she wasn’t sleeping and when she was sleeping I was watching her to be sure she didn’t STOP breathing. So, needless to say, I was exhausted. On the third day of Brenna’s cold, I was so tired I went over to my parent’s house and asked if they could just watch Brenna so I could rest for an hour. When I woke up from my nap, my mom was asleep on a blanket on the floor with Brenna asleep beside her and my dad was sitting in a chair with a crossword puzzle watching them both to make sure they didn’t STOP breathing. My dad saw that I was awake and came and sat by me on the couch. He looked at me and looked at my daughter, who he adored, and said, “Want to do my puzzle with me?” Honestly, I was so tired, all I wanted to do was sleep while Brenna was asleep, but he had never asked me (or anyone, to my knowledge) to do a crossword with him. So we sat there whispering about crossword puzzle clues and solving strategies until Brenna woke up.
Dad also loved what I always considered “old” movies, but truthfully were just the movies from his youth. Back in the days before cable television, all of the old movies were on Channel 9, but usually not during prime time. No, the movies my dad loved were on at midnight or 1:00 a.m. Well, that didn’t stop my dad from watching them, or from wanting to share them with me. I recall many a night being awakened at 11:55 p.m. so he and I could watch the Marx Brothers and eat popcorn. He and I would stay up and laugh and laugh. I don’t think my mother ever understood…
The dad of my childhood was someone who taught me how to keep a baseball scorecard and instilled my love of Cubs baseball by taking me to games and patiently explaining every aspect of the game to me. He also encouraged me to play sports, particularly softball. He would practice with me out in the backyard for hours so I wouldn’t be afraid of a sharply hit line drive. (You see, I wanted to play short-stop because my favorite Cub when I was 9 years old was Ivan DeJesus, the short-stop). However, no matter how many pitches he threw me in the backyard, Dad never could get me to hit the ball very well. I figured I could walk more than 50% of the time if I just didn’t swing at all, so I took my chances on a walk rather than try to hit. I was always afraid I’d hit a shallow pop fly and be humiliated. So, I just didn’t swing. That made Dad crazy, so he decided to become an umpire in my softball league. He was a very fair umpire too, except when it came to me. No matter where the pitches were when I was batting my dad called them strikes. He figured I would get angry enough at him for calling everything a strike that I was bound to take a swing eventually. I don’t recall how many games went by before I got sick of striking out and started hitting the ball.
Although it may not seem like it, my Dad was a very sensitive and gentle man. When I was in 4th grade, my parents bought me a dog; ToTo. I loved that dog. Toto was with me when I learned to drive, she was around for my first date and she saw me off to college and slept in my bed every time I came home. But, we all know that dogs don’t live forever. When my parents had to make the decision to put that dog to sleep, I was firmly entrenched in college life. I knew she was old and sick. The day my folks put her to sleep, they got in their car and drove out to University of Iowa so that they could tell me in person. They stayed all weekend and watched me cry and made sure I was okay before they left. This was not unexpected news, but my Dad knew that it would be devastating if I was alone. The presence of my Dad, a fierce dog lover, that weekend is something I will never forget.
Dad’s sarcasm is something that many of my friends recall about him. (Luckily I did not inherit that trait...) I know that many of my friends were unsure about how he felt about them upon meeting him because he had a sharp wit that made you wonder how he really felt. I know that he respected those who could give it right back to him.
Dad’s love for my mother and his joy at being able to spend his days with her made me believe that true love is not just a myth. I recall coming home to find them dancing in the family room with Frank Sinatra crooning from the stereo. I remember watching them walk down the streets of Galena hand in hand for many years. Neither of them ever left the house without a kiss and an “I love you.” The love they had for each other inspires me to this very day to be a better person and to show those that I love how I feel every day.
As Alzheimer’s robbed my father of his memory it also allowed me the gift of seeing him at his core. Although Dad didn’t know who I was near the end he always knew that I was someone who loved him. He enjoyed his grandchildren every time he saw them. He rejoiced in their attention and love. Alzheimer’s took my dad’s memory, but it didn’t touch his love.
Even though it is easy to wonder at God’s plan at a time like this, I am comforted by the words of Proverbs chapter 3.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him; and He will make your paths straight.” I know that my Dad has gotten the Ultimate promotion and that he is sitting at the right hand side of God.
I will miss my father every day. If I could see him one more time I would thank him for making me the person that I am, for making me the parent that I am. I am proud to be his daughter and I KNOW that he was proud to call me his daughter.

Hello Gorgeous!!

Well, Jim has come and gone and my life will never be the same. Jim has been a loyal reader of this blog practically since it's inception. For upwards of two years we have commented on each others blogs and emailed back and forth. However, we had never heard the other's voice or seen each other in person. He lives in Los Angeles and I live here in Palatine, Illinois. I sorta figured we would never meet...but Jim loves to travel and Chicago is a pretty desirable destination so out he came! Plus, Valentine's Day weekend was the Catholic Drunken Fest and why in the world would you want to spend Valentine's Day with your loved one when you can spend it with a couple thousand drunken Catholics?
In any case, I was a little nervous about meeting Jim for the first time because, well...what if I hated him? (Notice how it never occurred to me that he might not like me.) That silly thought was laid to rest when I saw him coming down to baggage claim resplendent in his tiara. My first thought was, "Shit, I should have worn my tiara too," and my second thought was, "Good Lord. He's way bigger in person than on his blog."

Let me tell you, Jim is one great big hunk of MAN. He is tall and tan and fabulously handsome. He gave me a hug and then promised not to do it again. I was greatly relieved. Once he got his suitcases (yes, there were two suitcases for a four day trip) I tried to remember where I parked. I was also hoping that we would find enough to talk about on the car ride into the city. Well, that was needless worry, to be sure! Not only did Jim have LOTS to talk about, he even brought his own soundtrack! We no sooner got out of the parking garage and he popped a CD in my CD player. I tell you, if you've never heard Dame Shirley Bassey sing Pink's Get This Party Started, then you haven't really heard that song.
In any case, I have to respect someone who actually brings their own background music with them because, let's face it, the moment when you meet a total stranger who you've only exchanged emails with and could very likely be a crazy serial killer, you might as well be listening to music you like.
After we got to his hotel and went up to his room (Yes, I went to his room. Total stranger. Just met him an hour ago. Whatever.) he proceeded to unpack. This is when I was rendered speechless. Out of his suitcase he pulled already assembled and hung up outfits. He had a "preppy" look and a "dressier with tuxedo pants" look and various shoe choices to go with each. Seriously, I thought he was going to pull a coat rack (a'la Mary Poppins) out of there. When I go on vacation I just make sure I have enough of each required clothing item (i.e. underwear, shirts, pants, etc.) to last for however many days I will be gone. If I am really lucky, things might match..but at least I have enough to make it through. Jim, on the other hand, was pondering, "Whatever shall I wear to the Catholic Drunken Fest?" like he was standing in his own closet with a plethora of choices.
Once he had unpacked (and complained about the lack of drawers--I didn't realize people actually used the drawers in hotel rooms!) we went to dinner. After dinner we went back to his hotel room and laid on his bed while he showed me all the fun things you can find on Craig's List. Silly me, I thought it was a job finding site! Apparently you can find all KINDS of jobs on Craig's List...like blow jobs. So we giggled and gossiped like a couple of sorority girls, then we had a pillow fight and then we did each other's hair!!
Just kidding. We did turn off the lights and look in other people's rooms from his window. Eventually I realized that I had to work in the morning so I left and got home at some silly hour.

The next night was the big Catholic fund raiser!! Jim came out on the train. (You really need to read his take on the night . I will hit on some of the things he missed.)
After I found Jim we went to a restaurant where my friend Laura is the hostess. We sat at the bar and waited for our designated driver, Nancy, to arrive. Nancy was at a wake and we bemoaned the fact that she couldn't get us to the Catholic Drunken Fest earlier, but we made the best of it and ordered drinks. Jim charmed the bartender and Laura until Nancy arrived.
Notice how tan Laura and Jim are. Jim is from California, so the tan was totally expected. Laura has a tanning bed in her house. Nancy and I adhere to the "it's winter in Chicago so of course we're pale" school of thought.
Once Nancy arrived and had her "I was at a wake and I'm going to have one drink even though I am the designated driver" drink we left. We went back to my house where Jim marveled at the Barbie Dream House in my living room and cringed at my IKEA furniture and my children charmed him with all their marvelous-ness (they were very anxious to meet my imaginary blog friend) we left for the fest. I have to add that we brought Jim's CD with us for our listening pleasure. Also, Jim was so excited about the snow--he was like a 3rd grader wishing for a snow day. I think it was just because he wanted to try on my enormous fur coat. This picture was taken at the very end of the night when they practically kicked us out. Yes, I believe that we were absolutely the LAST people to vacate the premises. The Catholic guard actually escorted us to the coat check where they waited for us with our coats in hand. The coat check folks were very anxious to see who was stupid enough to check a fur at a high school fund raiser. The kids working the coat check probably laid my coat on the floor and made out on it. (I would say they had sex on it, but we all know that Catholics believe in abstaining from sex until marriage...just like Sarah Palin's daughter....)Both Nancy and Jim were thrilled when they saw the sign advertising MEN. Imagine their disappointment when they followed the arrow and only found a bathroom. I think they were hoping their drink tickets were good for more than just cocktails.Okay. Keep in mind when you are gazing on the photo of Nancy and me in front of the Love Muffin that we are actually in a private Catholic High School. I believe the students themselves do the bulk of the decorating. Hmmm...wonder how that abstinence program is working at this school? You can tell by the look on my face that I know what a Love Muffin is.You know I must have had a few drinks at this point because I am voluntarily hugging Jim. (Jim claims I am a closet hugger. He actually counted how many times we hugged during his visit. Again...we were drinking. I'm sure we've all uttered, "I love you man!" while tipsy.) My favorite thing about this photo is how great our teeth look. Jim told me I look like a "fucking Osmond"! So, I think perhaps our designated driver had a couple of cocktails... Just kidding! Nancy only had one and she nursed it for hours. The thing you gotta love about Nancy is that she doesn't even have to be drunk to pretend like she's getting eaten by a giant pickle. This is just some random guy who wouldn't leave until I took his picture. The thing is, I think I actually argued with him about it a little bit before I just took the shot. I mean, I have a digital camera, right? I could have just deleted it...but NO! I wanted him to move along. Nancy did too, but (as you can see from the photo) she didn't want him to knock over her drink. After all, she was only going to have ONE!
Jesus Christ! We found Him at the Catholic Drunk Fest! Nancy was so excited she did the splits and didn't even spill her (ONE) drink! This was the only indication that we were in a Catholic institution that we found all night. Oh no! I take that back. At one point Jim was getting a drink and asked the bartender where all the gay priests were and the bartender introduced herself. I think her name was Sister Mary Nancy... Nothing says "Catholic Fund Raiser" like a bartending nun! At the end of the night we still had quite a few drink tickets. I bought a ton of them and then Jim bought more because he mistakenly thought we were out. Plus, I think we got a few free drinks along the way. I know the bartender in the "wine room" kept refilling my wine glass and refusing my tickets. I think she was flirting with me. Whatever. I flirted back as long as the wine was flowing. You wouldn't know it from these photos, (I am famous for bringing my camera with me everywhere and then forgetting to take a single picture) but my friend Crystal was there too. However, she had to duck out early because she had to go to her daughter's music competition at 7:00 a.m. or some un-Godly hour. She should have just stayed with us! We would've kept her awake until then!

All in all, it was a fun night. I got home at 4:30 a.m. I'm still recovering.

Jim was delightful! If he doesn't come out for this event next year I simply won't go! I tell you though, we will have to charter a bus next year. I have a bunch of friends who were pissed they didn't get to meet Jim and come out with us. Selfishly I didn't invite a bunch of people because I wanted Jim all to myself. Next year maybe I'll share the wealth.

Some of my favorite Jim moments from his visit...
When I caught him petting my coat behind my back.
When he was relaying a conversation he had with someone and he said, "And I was all, 'What?' and he was all, 'Oh no, I don't think so,' and I was all, 'Whatever' ". I thought only Hannah Montana talked like that. Somehow, it works for Jim.
When he was all frustrated because he couldn't get the Hershey's kiss out of the bottom of his plastic martini glass.
When he told me after seeing my fox coat that, "You know I'm going to be trying that on at some point tonight."
When he ordered a deep dish pizza with 4 different kinds of cheese and then added BACON.

Come back soon, Jim! Love you!!!

I'm back and I've been to church

In general, I am not a big fan of mega-churches. I don't really have a very good reason, except that I really like the feeling of a small church community. Plus, I just think that if you have to get to church an hour before the service so that you can park and get a good seat well....that's just like going to a sporting event, not worship. I always think that when I walk in the door someone is going to hand me a glass of Grape Kool-Aid and slap a Kabbalah bracelet on my wrist. Whenever I think of mega-churches I think of Scientology. Scientology makes me think of Tom Cruise. Tom Cruise practicing Scientology makes me think of arrogant, couch jumping assholery. (That's a new word I just made up. It's a combination of tom-foolery and asshole. I think it's fabulous.) Tom Cruise makes my skin crawl. Plus, I hate his teeth. And his nose. He's just smarmy. Just look at what he did to Katie Holmes! Here is Katie Holmes pre-Tom Cruise:

She's so cute and happy!
Here is Katie Holmes post Tom Crazy-ass Cruise:
She looks sad and afraid.
Their kid doesn't look much happier: I don't know...but Nicole Kidman sure looks better post-Tom.

Anyway, back to the mega church. I went with Brenna to the local mega-church in the Chicago area, which is Willow Creek. According to one of their press-releases, the weekend church services are attended by an average of 24,000 people. It's a huge "campus". I guess that is one of the reasons why I think I don't like mega-churches...if they are serving 24,000 people in one weekend, how can it be a community of God? Isn't it really like a show? When your pastor is a virtual celebrity then how do you connect with him?

In any case, Brenna and I went because Kate from the TV show John and Kate Plus 8 was going to be there as part of their Saturday night "church" service. We got to the church about 45 minutes before the service and we were lovingly guided to a parking spot by one of the many orange-suited parking "worship volunteers". The nice thing about trying to park at a very crowded church is that everyone is so nice. No honking or middle finger salutes here! Nope, everyone just follows the leader and goes where they are supposed to. This is an aerial view of Willow Creek Church. It's huge. See those ponds in the back? They literally do mass baptisms in those ponds. I can't imagine it's incredibly meaningful, but who am I to judge? Then we went in the church and tried to decide which level of the sanctuary we wanted to enter. You see, there are three levels and there are escalators to each level. But not just one escalator...no! There are 4 escalators. True. All around me I saw people on their cell phones trying to locate their friends so they could sit together. The crowd was unbelievable. The plan was that Brenna and I were supposed to meet our friends by the escalators on the first floor. However, after waiting for 10 minutes and trying to call my friend (The cell phone reception in Willow Creek sucks. I tried praying that I would see my friends, but that didn't work. I guess the 8,000 other people in the lobby made that a little difficult.) I decided to take the escalator up and see if I could see her from above. Once I got up there I realized there were other sets of escalators from the other side. I finally found one of my friends loitering by the coffee shop on the first floor. (Seriously.)

Once we finally got in the sanctuary (And I use that term loosely because it looks more like a huge auditorium. There isn't a cross or an eternal flame or any other indication that this is a church.) I looked around and thought, "This is so not working for me." This is the actual sanctuary. I would love to see The Foo Fighters here. The seats are all good and the sound is incredible. It would totally KICK ASS! Oops! Sorry. Blasphemous. Back to the service...Then, the band came out and told everyone to stand. Now, usually I hate that praise band crap where everyone raises their hands and sings and looks all enraptured. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I can't help but feel that they're faking it. I mean, who really feels full of the love of Jesus when they do that? If everyone experiences Christ in their own way, then how come everyone strikes the same pose when they hear praise music? Smacks of fakery to me but, again...who am I to judge? (Not that it keeps me from judging.) However, this band was really, really good. AND they projected all the words on the two big screens for those of us in the nose-bleed seats. I'm telling you, it was like a concert. The band played songs I knew so I sang and my very talented friend sang harmony next to me. It was awesome. I will go back for the music alone. Check out the big screens. Once the band was done they brought out Kate from that show. I've never actually SEEN the show, but I knew enough about it to be mildly interested. However, I was less than impressed with her. Sure, she had 6 babies at one time. Whatever. Yep, it's tough. I'm sure. But, when she was witnessing (so to speak) about some of the "miracles" that she encountered throughout the whole thing I just wasn't "feelin' it". Either she had gotten 15 Botox injections backstage which rendered her face almost immobile or she is just emotionless.
Luckily, the service ended with the band again, so I left happy.
Until we tried to find a bathroom. I'm telling you, the people at Willow Creek must never have to pee. Brenna and I had to go down to the lobby, through some big room full of tables with signs to indicate which groups were meeting where and through a cafeteria the size of the food court at the mall. Actually, it was much nicer than the food court at the mall.

In other news, I wonder if Sarah Palin would have brought her own stripper pole to Washington D.C. had she gotten elected, or if our tax dollars would have paid for it.

There goes Sarah Palin, classy as ever, to some shindig recently in Washington D.C. Perhaps she's lobbying for a position on the National "Cougar" Board. The guy behind her must be wondering how many more people are going to yell, "Hey baby! We'll be back for you later!" out of their car windows. I tell you, now that Palin is not making a laughing stock of the Republican party, she is still an endless source of amusement to me.

Just in case you thought the hooker boots were a one-time fashion risk...see her above on the campaign trail holding her baby to appeal to all the hockey moms and wearing the Pretty Woman boots to appeal to all the men. Look at the woman in the brown sweater. She's looking right at the boots and thinking, "What the...I don't want this whore representing my country! I'm voting Obama!" The boots and baby look alienated many a woman voter, I betcha! Patent leather boots belong on Barbies, 7 year olds and hookers.

Also, I thought I would just mention that my mother is back home and doing pretty darn well for a bald 78 almost 79 year old. I took her to her second chemo this past Monday and she is really proving to be much stronger than I thought she would be. Yippee Mom!! I miss having her stay in my house and I worry about her constantly, but she is stronger than cancer and she is going to make it through 4 more months of chemo just fine! (That's bravado, but just humor me.) However, she keeps letting the "music therapist" some in while she is having chemo and that freaks me out...but that is a story for another time...

Last but not least...JIM'S COMING!!! I know he's going to be fabulous in person. I am looking forward to many photo ops while he is here.

Oh! And I'm going to see Morrissey on April 4th. Whatever shall I wear???

Ever so Sorry

Sorry I haven't been around. My mom is having some health issues resulting in major surgery tomorrow. I will be back. I have to tell you about my fabulous trip to Florida!

Are we outside again?

How cute is Bronte's official soccer picture???

Bronte played in a soccer tournament today. It was a lovely day for a soccer tourney...50 degrees, gray, drizzly. The kids were fine but I was miserable. I hate being cold. I was in my chair, wrapped up in my blanket, thanking God that only one of my children is athletic. Brenna is like me, she only likes to do outdoor things in ideal weather.

I hope that someday Brenna finds someone who is independently wealthy to take care of her as she is not equipped what-so-ever to deal with adversity. Good thing she is smart, pretty and talented. She also has this sweet, unassuming way about her that people are just attracted to. No doubt she will do well in her dating career.

So, back to the soccer tournament. Bronte plays in something called the soccer "Academy". It's for kids who are too young to play on the hard-core travel teams but still are hard-core and don't want to just be on a soccer team for the cool shirt and the end of the year pizza party. Bronte LOVES soccer. She particularly loves playing defense because it's a good excuse to throw an elbow or two or to trip a kid under the guise of trying to get the ball. The kid is aggressive. Push her and she will push right back, no matter how big the opponent.

Brenna and Bronte couldn't be more different.

Brenna takes ballet. Bronte takes hip-hop.
Brenna's favorite movie is Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Bronte's favorite movie is Iron Man.
Brenna is afraid of all bugs, even butterflies. Bronte likes to carry Cicadas around and would like to keep one in her room.
Brenna is very polite and soft-spoken. Bronte's two favorite phrases are, "That sucks!" and "Holy Crap!"

I love my kids. I love that they are so different. When I was pregnant with Bronte I prayed to have a boy because I didn't think I could ever love another daughter as much as I love Brenna. Well, God had different plans. He gave me another daughter but made her so dissimilar to her sister that I love her with the same intensity for completely different reasons. It's funny how I can see myself in both of my girls even though they aren't that much alike. Bronte loves to write, for Brenna it is a chore. Brenna loves to sing and is good at it, Bronte....not so much. Bronte likes to know what everyone is talking about but Brenna only cares if it directly pertains to her. Brenna loves to read and can get lost in a book for hours but Bronte has to be TOLD to read.
Of all the things that I have accomplished in my life, my girls are the thing I am most proud of. I always used to think that I was too selfish to be a parent. When I was in college I couldn't fathom spending my money on anything but shoes for ME, ME, ME!!! Now I work so that my kids can play travel soccer and take 5 dance classes a week and have fabulous birthday parties. I realized the other day that I spend more on piano lessons for my kids than I did on my last pair of jeans. Not only that, I haven't had a new pair of jeans in two years or more.
Oh well, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm bringing sexy back

I just want everyone to know that THIS is what I look like when I am just lounging around the house. I wear my robe, my fabulous Betsey Johnson shoes (those bitches are HOT) and my tiara. How about those shoes? They are suede and they are fabulous! I never would have spent money on something so incredibly frivolous, but I got them from my fairy Godfather...I don't know how he knew I needed them, but he did.

Last week was (as usual) an extremely busy one. I had to go to my stupid ass job and come home and make dinner and get kids to their various activities. I haven't had a minute to do anything I want to do; read the paper, go to the gym, eat a meal while sitting at the table...you know. Friday was the one day I was looking forward to because my husband and I had tickets to go see k.d. lang and I LOVE her. However, my Friday schedule looked like this:

6:30 a.m. Get up and get ready for work. Kiss my kids goodbye before school.

8:00 a.m. Get my can of soup and go to work.

1:00 p.m. Leave work and go home to make dinner and put it in the Crock Pot so it would be ready for my kids and my parents who were coming in to baby sit so I could go to the concert.

2:00 Pick up Brenna and her friend from school and take Brenna to piano lessons, take her friend home, go to pick up Bronte from school, get her to piano lessons and write a check to the piano teacher for lessons.

4:00 p.m. Get home and get dressed for the concert.

4:30 p.m. Leave home and get to my mother-in-law's friend's house for the limo to take us into Chicago for the concert.

However, when I was leaving the house to go get Brenna and her friend I saw that I had a package waiting outside my front door. It was addressed to me from my friend Jim in California. I grabbed it and got in the car to go to the Jr. High to get Brenna. When I got to the school I opened the package and inside were THE SHOES. More importantly, there was a note from my friend Jim. He told me that the shoes were beautiful and that he had also enclosed some other fun things, including the tiara. You see, on his blog he has a picture of himself in a tiara:
When I saw this photo on his blog I told him that if I had a tiara I would wear it everywhere, even to the grocery store. SOOOOO, in my package there were THE SHOES and my very own tiara. He told me that he expected to see some very amusing photos of me wearing it very soon.

So here I am getting out of the limo wearing my tiara. Nothing says "of course I took a limo to a k.d. lang concert" like a tiara. Between that and my vintage mohair coat I felt like a princess. (I am not the queen though. Jim is. Look at how he wears his tiara at a jaunty angle. Only a queen can get away with that!)
In any case, I wore that tiara all weekend. I love it. I will share more pics of the tiara later...but if you ever get the chance, get a really heavy tiara and wear it as much as you can. It makes everything better.
Now, here is the thing about Jim. I have never met him. All he knows for sure about me is that I wear size 8 shoes. He reads my blog and I read his. We swap emails and we know stuff about each other...but he has never even heard my voice! But that package on Friday from my fairy Godfather made my day, my week, my year! Because I struggle (as most women do) with my body image, he once told me that I should watch Carson Kressly's show "How To Look Good Naked". Well, let me tell you, Carson has NOTHING on Jim. That box with the shoes and the tiara made me feel like more than just someones mom, or a financial aid specialist, or an ordinary suburban dweller. That box made me feel like a princess.
If I didn't express it before...Thank you, Jim. You are a man among men. I can't wait to show you how fabulous those shoes look on me. IN PERSON!!
Incidentally, the funny thing about the picture at the top where I am wearing my robe and tiara and SHOES...Brenna took it. Tony was watching the Bears vs. Vikings game.