Heaven Looks Like Lafayette?

Last night, I dreamed about my dad who passed away in 2009.  It wasn't one of those dreams where it feels like a visitation.  It was just a crazy dream.  However, my mouse did stop working when I began to type this post, so who knows?

I was in the kitchen of a house I had never been in before when Tim Romero (an old classmate who wasn't even a very close friend of mine, so I don't know why he was in the dream) came in and said, "Hey, Laurie.  Your dad is in the living room."

I said, "That's weird!  I didn't think I'd be able to talk to him again so soon!"

Dad came into the kitchen and he had a small black mustache.  I asked, "Dad, what are you doing here?"

"I got tired of working all those double shifts," he said. "So, I'm living in Lafayette and have another family."

"Hmmmm," I said.  "Does mom know?"

"Sure, she knows.  She was in on it," dad said.

So, I guess heaven looks a lot like Lafayette?  With another family?  Good luck with that, dad, because I'm sure they won't be nearly as fun as we were.  Tell them your first oldest daughter says, "Hey."

My Little Mouth of Horrors

I went to the dentist this morning because a filling was falling out and was feeling fragile. (Alliteration. Impressed?) The dentist got all up in my grill. (Actually, it was a back tooth, so I suppose you'd say he got all up in my left rear panel.)

The good news is that the awful numbing is finally wearing off. The bad news is that the awful numbing is wearing off. The tooth itself doesn't hurt, but I feel like I have too many teeth in my mouth and my jawbone joints on both sides are painin' me.

Party Like They're Still Here...Because They Are

This Christmas, I want you all to party and celebrate and lose your little minds as though everyone you've ever lost is still here.

Dance and sing like dad is still playing DJ on the old stereo and smile like he's still in your face with that damn video camera.

Picture yourself having a highball with Grandma Ransonette, some chicken and dumplings with Granny and dancing a Cajun waltz with Grandpa Courville.  Have a third piece of pie in honor of Grandpa Ransonette and Uncle Wayne.

Chase the kids around the room like Uncle Marty, treat yourself to a beer with Alan and Ray and try to learn to speak Bulgarian like Melissa.

Party like they're all still here, like they're all still watching you, like they're all still enjoying the festivities, because they are.  I promise you, they are.

Merry Christmas Week, everyone!

It Could Be Worse

Sometimes I look around and think it's amazing there aren't more crimes considering how many criminals there are and that there aren't more car accidents considering how many dumbass, distracted and just plain bad drivers there are, not to mention the sheer volume of automobiles on the road.

When something bad happens we tend to think, "If they had only been fives seconds earlier..." or "If they had only been five seconds later..."  The same principle applies to good things, but we usually don't know how close we were to disaster.

We should be thankful every day for crimes that don't happen, for accidents that don't occur and for good timing that we don't even realize we've experienced.

In Ava's Brain

During bath time when I was babysitting my 4 year old grand-fabulous-daughter Ava the other night, she started squeezing all the water out of her baby brother Lucas's bath toys.  She said, "I need to do this to get all the cow-dew out of them."

"Cow-dew?"  I asked.

"Yeah,"  she said.  "Cow-dew.  Look!  See that black stuff!  Cow-Dew!"

"Oh.  That's mildew."  I said.

"Yeah," Ava said.  "Mildew."

*  *  *

Tonight when I was babysitting Ava, she was telling me about rehearsing for her Christmas program.  

"The teacher kept asking us to be quiet and we tried to be quiet, but sometimes we kept talking," she told me.

"You know you have to listen when the teacher says to be quiet, right?"  I asked.

"Yes,"  she said.  "One time the teacher came and sat by us on the pubes so we would be quiet."

Since she goes to a Methodist preschool, I'm going to assume she meant pews instead of pubes and leave it at that.

*  *  *

3 Things About Death and Taxes

I have nothing to say about taxes, but here are three indisputable facts about death that I've been pondering lately:

1.  Every animal, fish and person that was alive 150 years ago is dead.  All of them.  Every single one of them is gone, except for maybe a couple of koi fish, bowhead whales or giant tortoises.  150 years.  That's really not that long ago.  That's 1861.  Every animal, fish and person that was alive at the beginning of the civil war is gone.  Dunno.  Sayonara.

2.  There are two options when it comes to death.  We either die or we live long enough to see everyone else bite the bullet along the way.  Neither of these are pleasant options, but they are what they are.  Period.  That's life, or the lack thereof, in its most basic terms.

3.  I can't remember what number three was, but it was equally profound.

Not Guilty

This morning, I used the very last drop of my Gucci Guilty free sample.  Santa, if you've got an extra $70 could you hook me up?

Valley of My Couch

What a wonderfully awful movie.  Not a bad way to spend a Tuesday night.

The Sweet Spot

EDIT:  Since I wrote this post, my two sisters have passed away.  Bonnie passed March 20, 2014 from oral cancer and my sister Terry passed away seven years to the day after I wrote this post, November 19, 2018, from pneumonia.


When people are in their early adulthood, they're so wrapped up in the big questions of life that they might not appreciate the little things.  They're so caught up in thoughts of school and work and "Will I ever get married?" and "Will I ever get a job?" and "Will I ever have kids?" that they might not look around and appreciate the right here, right now.

When you get to be an olden person like me, you look back and realize that those years were filled with most (if not all) of your grandparents, all of your siblings, all of your parents, all of your friends' parents, all of your cousins, most of your aunts and uncles and great-aunts and great-uncles and even some of your great-grandparents.  That's the sweet spot.  Part of you knows it won't always be that way, but another part of you takes it all for granted, because you think you have all the time in the world.

Everybody, not just the early adult-ers, needs to look at right here, right now and realize that you are in your own special sweet spot.  Right here, right now you have who you have.  Love them and cherish them, because it can change in a heartbeat.

Thank God, thank Buddha, thank whoever you believe in, thank your lucky stars for everyone you love and for everyone who loves you and God bless us everyone.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I passed by a fried chicken restaurant yesterday and there was a smiling cartoon chicken outside the restaurant holding up a sign with the specials for the day written on it. That  seemed to me to be highly inappropriate. A chicken shouldn't be pimping out the delicious fried meat of his fellow species.

Bastards!

Yesterday, a very good friend of mine (possibly named later, if it's okay with her) went to the church where she works at 4:00 p.m. in a populated area of Beaumont's west end to pop in and out and get something she needed.before running errands for her job.  

While she was inside, someone broke the back window on her car and stole her purse.  She forgot she had the church credit card and, by the time she canceled it, the bastards had charged things in Winnie, Baytown and Houston.  She saw TWO Suburbans leaving the church parking lot when she came out and they went toward the highway.

I'm thankful that the criminals chose my friend randomly and hadn't been watching her waiting for the perfect opportunity to rob her, but I'm also angry that these Houston SOBs are targeting our Beaumont mothers.  The police told my friend that these guys target mothers at day care centers (there is a school and day care at the church), because they know the moms are busy, frazzled, have their hands full and leave their purses in the car.

Saturday night, I prayed that these particular friends would make it home from the big Halloween celebration downtown unscathed.  In my weird brain, I'm picturing The Universe saying, "Okay, safe they shall be Saturday, but Monday we still need that purse."

Thank you God for keeping them safe.  Everybody else, be careful out there and lock your purse in the trunk before you leave work to pick up your kids.

Bastards, who stole the purse...

Karma.

That's all.

Just...karma.

PS: People send out goofy ass e-mails about needles in gas pump hoses and poison on the back of business cards, but nobody forwards e-mails about the real stuff.   Please tell your friends about this.  
 
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Self Examination

There's nothing like a beautiful sunshine-y morning to make you open up the blinds, let the sun pour in and ask yourself, "Holy shit.  When's the last time I dusted this rat hole?"

My Morning

• 7:30 a.m. Power went out as I sat down to my makeup mirror
• 7:30 a.m. Large stuffed animal fell out of a chair in my office beside my bathroom at the exact same time the lights went out 
• 7:32 a.m. Packed up things to finish getting ready at work
• 7:33 a.m. Continued to flip light switches even though I knew the power was out
• 7:36 a.m. Left for work with wet hair and no makeup
• 7:37 a.m. Tried to close garage door with garage door opener like an idiot
• 7:37 a.m. Got out of car to close garage door manually and smelled smoke
• 7:37 a.m. Freaked out
• 7:38 a.m.  No smoke pouring out of my townhouse or any others around me
• 7:38 a.m.  Stopped freaking out
• 7:39 a.m.  Drove to work
• 7:40 a.m. Tuned radio to local station to try to find out why there was a power outage and smoke in the air and heard disc jockeys talking about "alternate paths" and "we'll be out there later"
• 7:41 a.m. Freaked out 
• 7:42 a.m. I realized the disc jockeys were talking about the path for a procession for a local soldier who died in Afghanistan  (RIP)
• 7:46 a.m  Tried to pull into the parking lot at work, but there was a man walking two huge black Great Danes and a lady was blocking my path into the parking lot, I assume, out of fear of the dogs.  She wouldn't move left or right, forward or backward.  She just stood there.  MOVE dammit!
• 7:50 a.m.  Walked into my office to find two co-workers already there who never get to work before me.  Never.

Weird ass morning.

Don't Go Back in the House!

I got a call from my four year old grand-fabulous-daughter yesterday. A fireman and firetruck went to her preschool Wednesday. She told me the following all in one big, rushed, important, excited breath, "Grandma! I got to go on a BIG firetruck! The fireman told us that if there's an emergency, we have to call 911. Do you know that grandma? Call 911! He said that if there's a fire to go outside EVEN IF IT'S DARK! Go outside. Don't go back in for your baby dolls. Don't go back in for your puppy. Don't go back in for your kitty. He said, 'Your mommy and daddy will buy you a new baby doll or a new puppy or a new kitty.' It won't be the same baby doll, but that's okay. Don't go back in the house! Okay, grandma?"