A Charmed Life

Time After Mime

Marcel Marceau died today at the age of 84.  A moment of silence, please.

Hair Today, Gone...Today?!

Cross your fingers for me!  After trying to grow my hair long for the past several years and ending up with nothing more than a fine frizzy snarl that only looks as long as it really is when it's soaking wet...I'm chopping it off.  I know, I know, I said "I want to grow old, I want to grow my hair long, I want to be Erma Bombeck".  Well, with the rate that cancer kills off the females in my family (at least on my mom's side), I'm not laying any bets on growing old anymore.  And like I said, the hair-growing project just isn't working for me anymore.  I'm getting the sense that the Universe would like me to  place all of my chips on just one bet, and frankly out of everything I want out of my life, I'll take a book or two with my name on the cover in lieu of anything else.  So, the picture of me on the inside back cover will have me in short hair ;)

Seriously, my hands are shaking just thinking about it...but I'm bored and tired and feeling old and ready for a change.  Which I will, of course, post later today, no matter how it turns out.  Truth in advertising and all that.  Here's hoping it doesn't turn out like the haircut Hobbes gave Calvin, because the one thing I refuse to wear is...a hat!  For everyone who didn't guess, that's the prop you'll never see me sporting again!

Enough procrastinating...see you later!

Later...

Before...

and after =)  I think it came out even cuter than the picture shows, so if I can get my photographer friend to take a better shot of me this afternoon I'll post that one.  I love it!  It looks just the same as it used to with my hair up, less the messy frizz and hair getting into my face.

Anyone want to trade some nice, gently-used barrettes for some more earrings?

Bar? None!

I am so utterly proud to announce that my youngest brother has passed the Florida Bar Exam and never, ever has to take it again!  It's been a very long and bumpy road for Bob, who went through a marriage, a divorce, and the illness and death of our mother, all while in law school.  He missed passing last year's bar by a @#$! four points and has been studying non-stop ever since, and it obviously paid off.  I couldn't be more overjoyed.

Somebody please tell me Mom knows about this.  I can't imagine that she doesn't.  And if anyone in the greater Orlando area needs an honest, upstanding attorney, shoot me an email, and I'll tell Bob to give you the Family discount ;)

Hope Gloats

Liar, liar, let's set all my "fat pants" on fire!  I realized today that I am once again "lying" about the weight on my driver's license...except, now I WEIGH LESS than it says I do.  In the words of Keanu Reeves, "Whoa".

I wonder if I should "lose" my driver's license.  Except that it's a pretty good picture of me.  With my luck, my new picture would make me look like Jay Leno like my first ever DL photo did.  I'll share that story sometime, so long as this "thin" thing keeps up!

It's a Girl! But, Not A Sissy Or Anything...

Your Brain is 80% Female, 20% Male

Your brain leans female You think with your heart, not your head Sweet and considerate, you are a giver But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!

What Gender Is Your Brain?

Nightmare On My Street

The search for little Keithan Panyavong has ended.  This afternoon, his mother confessed to police that she had found him dead after overdosing him with medication for his fever, put his body in a garbage bag, and left it in a trash bin.  Police found the body this evening, in the 1600 block of Rock Springs Rd.

I don't even know what to say.  For my own part I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact the the trash bin in question is a quarter-mile from my house.  That mother had to drive directly past my street (our cross street is Rock Springs Rd.), with her dead little boy in a trash bag, past my house with my beautiful baby girl asleep in her crib like Keithan should have been, to deposit the corpse of her innocent child into the garbage can of some innocent family.  Who were probably worried sick like I was Sunday afternoon, listening to the helicopters overheard searching, and later on listening to the wind and rain and wondering how in the world a baby in his pajamas was going to make it through the night lost and alone.  It makes me want to vomit, especially when I think that tonight?  Is garbage night.  They might never have found him if she hadn't confessed when she did.

I know accidents can happen.  And it's beyond my worst nightmare to think of something not only happening to my own baby girl, but that it could happen to her due to some inattention or mistake on my part.  I think I would die of grief on the spot, or pray to.  All I can say is, I'm so sorry, Keithan.  I know you loved your mommy, and I'll pray for her, and give my baby extra kisses whenever I think of you.  Sleep well, little one.

Whiskers On Kittens

Serenity now!  Serenity now!  No?  How about now?  Please??

Well, at least I have a good reason for feeling under the weather the last few days.  I'd decided that I was tired of being on the anti-anxiety drug my doctor put me on while my mom was dying.  Nothing against using prescription antidepressants, but it had helped me all it could.  I'd talked to the doctor about it and while initially he said I didn't have to taper off the medication, since my dose was so low, he later suggested taking a half-dose for a week.  Well, I didn't feel like paying for a whole new bottle of pills, so I quit cold turkey.  Which is about how I feel, like a cold, dead turkey!  I'm nauseous, shaky, and have horrible nightmares. I woke up before dawn this morning because I screamed myself awake.

  Oh, well.  This is apparently normal and should clear up in a few more days.  Except that the stress is climbing this week...my Italian greyhound is going in for surgery for a large lump on his leg that we sure hope is a sebaceous cyst and not cancer.  And even better, a careless driver didn't see Dave on his motorcycle this afternoon and plowed into him from the side, sending him a** over teakettle.  He is fine, except for a small patch of minor road rash on his hip and a bruised foot, but the bike will need a new radiator and his helmet needs to be replaced. [Editor's Note: I've heard every possible motorcycle horror story, so no flaming, ok?]  I about lost it once I hung up the phone after getting that call.  The one time he wasn't wearing his special overpants, because he went to a job interview after work and didn't want to bother with carrying his gear, he gets hit, and while wearing dress pants to boot.  I got a little upset since he's always preaching (and to be fair, practicing what he preaches) about the importance of proper gear, and I felt that now that he's a dad, the risk that he took was unacceptable.  Then of course, I felt like a heel for getting angry when he could have been more seriously injured.  I'm sure when the story gets out among our friends and acquaintances, I'll be bombarded with everyone asking me why I don't ask him to give up motorcycling.  The answer is that it's Dave's very favorite thing, and I wouldn't be a decent friend, much less a wife, if I made him give up what he loved.  Besides, he'd probably then make me get rid of my cats!

So, in the spirit of making myself not feel "so bad" (as the song states), here are a few of my favorite things:

-Seph's hair when she first wakes up.
-the "murrph?" sound Angelo the Maine Coon makes when I call him.
-Pasta with homemade vodka sauce.
-Stand-up comedy.  I love to laugh even more than I love to eat!
-Long-nosed teddy bears.
-Dark chocolate with almonds.
-Bunches of daisies (I prefer them to roses).
-The smell of leather.
-Green eyes.  I thought about it and 8 out of 10 of my favorite friends have 'em.  The other two have brown eyes.  Weird, huh?  (OK, one of the friends is technically my ex sister-in-law, but she still counts as a best friend.  Family not included in the counting, or I'd have to add more.)
-Cashmere sweaters.  Not that I own one, or can afford to buy a good one, but I like to go to the department stores around the holidays and pet them =)
-Raccoons.  I read "Rascal" as a kid and always wanted my very own baby raccoon.  I used to collect them but lost most of mine during my divorce.
-Owls...don't remember why I started collecting them, but I have a great variety of them now.  And only my closest friends (and Dave!) are allowed to add to them so they're even more special.

OK, now I feel a little better.  Another most favorite thing is getting comments on my posts...so, if you lurk, or visit regularly, or even have come upon this blog by accident...how about saying hi and telling me about your favorite things??

Yo[ga] Mama

This afternoon I walked into a yoga class for the first time in five years.  I've only ever been to a handful of classes anyway, which may make me the only 30-something female in California who can't drop and give you fifty sun salutations.  I'm more of a sauna salutation girl, myself.  And the "downward dog" was definitely not what I thought it was. 

I do enjoy yoga, though, and I plan to do it regularly.  Not only is it very relaxing (important for a stress puppy like me), it's great for flexibility.  I'd love to be limber enough to scratch my back...with my foot. 

All Roads Lead To Home

We're home safely at last, after almost 20 hours of flights and layovers, during which 14 1/2-month old Sephie cried or fussed perhaps a total of 15 minutes.  Praise the Lord and pass the Benadryl.  If any Catholic readers are so inclined, please say a rosary for my poor feet, because unlike the arches of the Colosseum, mine have apparently fallen.  On the plus side, my calves haven't been this toned in years ;)

I obviously didn't manage to drag my poor old bones to an Internet cafe' at night after the amount of touring we did each day, but stay tuned for updates as soon as my brain figures out what time it is.  Suffice it to say that my taste buds were overjoyed, my wallet has more stretch marks than my abdomen, I've never been more grateful to live somewhere without mosquitos, and my daughter was the biggest hit in Italy since the introduction of the tomato.  Oh, and after traveling with us for almost two weeks, our friends still like us.  Well, maybe I'll give them a ring tomorrow afternoon, just to make sure they're returning our calls.  I sure hope so, because they Tivo'd "Lost".

Which we got, just a tiny bit, on the way back from the airport.  Which means I should definitely get some sleep.  Buona notte, and as they say in Italy, "sogni d'oro"!

St. Francis Was Not A Sissy

Tonight's remote posting comes to you from the medieval hill town of Assisi, which was of course home to the much beloved St. Francis, the Catholic patron saint of animals.  To honor this fact, my dogs are barkin'.  I don't think the people who came up with the Stairmaster ever climbed this many stairs.  This town was obviously built for defense. I know I for one would have given up my pillaging days for good if I had to climb these hills to do it.  The frescoes don't show it, but good old Francis must have been one pretty buff brother!  On the plus side, we're doing so much walking, I don't feel an ounce of guilt for all the bread and cheese and pastries we're eating.  (It also doesn't hurt that this place is absolutely stunningly gorgeous.  But then, us Italians are all pretty nice to look at ;)

Tune in next time for the "Tower of Terror", Brunelleschi's bell tower in Florence.  Only 414 steps to get to the top!  I wonder who's the patron saint of blisters?