Live and Let Di

Redemption in Boca

Yesterday was a particularly challenging Boca day. By 3:00 p.m. my head was spinning with ideas for making my escape...Alaska was sounding pretty attractive. It's just different here. The people are different. The attitudes are different. It can put you on edge, harden you and make you question your own set of values (which I think everyone should do now and then anyway!) Most days I can laugh at the driver behind me who honks because I am not in the middle of the intersection the instant the light turns green. In NC, if someone honks, you look and it's usually one of your friends just saying, "Hey!" Yesterday really tested my determination to not let it get to me. Andrea said it was my "first Boca moment"...well, it was actually the Nth "Boca moment" in a series that started before the moving truck pulled away from our house when the homeowners association president made me cry.

But then something happened that redeemed Boca in my eyes...and got me back to my usual "half full" attitude.

First, I had to take "the shoes" (see above) to be repaired. The beaded part was pulling away from the shoe. I didn't know where to go, but Stacy directed me to a shoe repair store in an upscale shopping area near my daughter's school, telling me, "Oh yeah...they eat Prada shoes for breakfast there!" The gentleman who took them in scrutinized them, looking at them from all sides seeming very concerned, then took them "in the back" and came back and said, "OK...but it will take a few minutes." A few minutes? Wow I was hoping to have them back to wear to a wedding in a week, but a few minutes? Cool. So my daughter and I wandered and browsed for a few minutes with Haley commenting that I didn't seem myself and I just explained that I had a tough Boca day.

Ten minutes later we went back into the store. The gentleman handed me my shoes and as I reached for my wallet said, "No charge." I practically shouted, "WHAT???" He assured me there was no charge and invited me to come back again. I have this slightly annoying habit (just ask my cringing daughter) to pour my heart out to strangers...so I said, "Wow...I can't believe this. A few minutes ago I was plotting to move away from Boca because I couldn't take it anymore...but you may have just given me a reason to stay." I'm sure as we left my daughter turned around and did that twirly pointer finger gesture by her ear to indicate to him that I was slightly off my rocker, a character trait I wear with pride.

Nice, friendly, normal people are out there, you may just have to look harder...because the mean, insensitive, selfish people are just louder! I will keep repeating that to myself...

Di

Boobs, Movies and Food

I am going to get so many hits from Google and so many disappointed Googlers based on the title of this blog!!!

Wednesday night my husband put together a "surprise" dinner. He was very clever about planning it. He called me on Saturday morning and said, "You know, I've been thinking, I really should get your friends' numbers." Now, me being the naive, dumb babe that I am...it never occurred to me that this might have something to do with my birthday which was seven days away!!! The locale was still kept from me and Vicky was the most surprised because all week she thought I really didn't know about it. Fortunately Vicky has a great "day job" because her acting abilities would probably not sustain her as she casually said on the phone on Wednesday, "OK, then I guess I'll see you later this week!" Not terribly convincing, Vicky!

Our entourage of three couples trekked to Fort Lauderdale in Stacy's blue "fagmobile" (that's what she calls her minivan, so please don't Imus me about the use of that word...for which, by the way, I have STILL not forgiven Burke from Grey's.) I still didn't know the locale and when we pulled into a strip mall and passed a Walgreens, I got nervous. I had visions of us buying booze at the Walgreens liquor store and standing in the parking lot drinking it from paper bags.

The valet parking tipped me off that we were probably safe from the "booze in the paper bag" surprise party. I was then escorted into another realm, a world unto itself....Cafe Martarano. This place is so cool that it doesn't NEED a website, so I just linked to some reviews. I had heard about it from my husband who has been there frequently for business dinners and was dying to go sometime. We walked in and were enveloped by the eerie neon-ish light. The tiny restaurant seats maybe 50 people, doesn't take reservations and people giggle when they are fortunate enough to only have to wait an hour (on a Wednesday night at the utterly uncool...remember, we arrived in a blue minivan, so we kind of define uncool...hour of 6:30 p.m.)

There are TVs everywhere showing scenes from The Godfather, Goodfellas, etc. As Donnie (Vicky’s husband, a MAJOR movie buff) looks up at a screen only to see a topless woman. His jaw dropped and Vicky deadpanned, “Boobs, movies and food…Donnie’s happy!”

My husband ordered for everyone and the food just kept coming with every dish being better than the last. The lobster was the best I have ever tasted. The pastas were all freshly made. Even the cappuccino was incredible. But the best part was the friends…laughing, talking and just being together.

And there is a fourth item (besides the boobs, movies and food)… music. A wise man (Nicholas from A Gentleman's Domain) paraphrased this quote to me:

"Extraordinary how potent cheap music is...."   Noel Coward

And did we ever prove it that night! Now, when we (I say we even though four of the six of us were three or more years younger than me) were in our partying days, DJ’s were spinning records. Now it’s a young guy with a MacBook, iTunes and a playlist! The music was from our era, every song prompting, “OK, name the artist…what year was it.” It was a little annoying when I would say, “Oh, this takes me back to college” and the others would chime in, “This takes me back to high school!”

The place is noisy and boisterous and Stacy and I sang along with “It’s too late” by Carole King with every ounce of music in our bodies! At one point, “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye was playing and I found myself swaying to the music, eyes closed thinking of my old boyfriend Chris who was doing all of my sexual healing in 1983. I looked over and Michael had his eyes closed, obviously in his own reverie about his memories of sexual healing. Then Vicky said, “This song reminds me of my grandmother!” Talk about a mood-killer!!! Seems that Vicky (who was a small child in 1983, I think) was in the car with her old Cuban grandmother when “Sexual Healing” came on…Abuela was horrified and the kids were mortified.

There is this strange phenomenon that happens when we go out…the more Stacy drinks, the funnier I get! She laughs at everything I say. And then I start laughing at her laughing at me. I laughed so much that my face hurt! Here’s me and Stacy laughing at dinner earlier this month:

Stacy also gets very grandiose ideas when she drinks (and we are talking 2 drinks…it doesn’t take much)…she wanted to get “Tapestry” from my iPod, no she wanted to download everything on my iPod…that night. She was going to spend the night at my house. But really, it was too early to go home…we should go out!!! Of course, we went back to our house, had another glass of wine and called it a night. But it was fun thinking that we might have it in us to party like it was 1999!

My husband gets big-time husband points for putting together a phenomenal evening!!!

Di

Friends

One of my favorite lines from Pretty Woman (one of my favorite movies) is:

Edward Lewis: It's just that, uh, very few people surprise me.
Vivian: Yeah, well, you're lucky. Most of 'em shock the hell outta me.

It's kind of like kids...you think you know them inside and out...and then they shock the hell outta you.

PART I:
The picture above is my son Rory and his best friend Ross. The two of them have so much in common...great sense of humor, obsessive interest in sports, etc. Individually and together, they can completely hold their own in a discussion with adult sports fans about players, positions, draft possibilities, who's going from college to the NBA, etc. You think 11 year olds would make decisions based on 11 year old priorities...like who has the best X-Box game, whose parents will allow them to drink five sodas in an hour, who the sap mom is (you guessed it!) that will let them take over the kitchen, make brownies and eat the whole pan within an hour. (OMG, I know Ross's mom is never going to let him come over here again.)

Anyway, Ross got accepted to a local public school that is considered one of the best, with a reputation for having the best technology program for a middle school. The majority of his friends are going to the regular middle school they are slated for ... also a good school, but not one for which you must apply. Ross and his family wavered for a couple of weeks. Ross is nothing if not social and has a lot of friends. So of course he wanted to be with them. He went to the other school for a tour and was impressed. Then he got back to school and his friends swayed him back. But finally, he went to the orientation for the technology school and told his parents, "I'm going!" Wow...a pretty mature decision for an 11 year old.

We've assured the boys that we will go out of our way to get them together, whether it's Starbucks and Einsteins before school (which starts at the deplorable-to-moms-who-want-to-have-a-life hour of 9:15 a.m.) With IM, Video IM and X-box live, they will practically live together after school anyway. But wow...good decision Ross.

PART II:
Each morning when we go to school, there is a radio show on that does this thing called "Phone Tap" where someone arranges for the radio to play a joke on someone by phone. Sometimes it's a radio person pretending to be the principal of the school, telling the parent that their kid has done something incredibly inappropriate and then the kid gets on the phone and defends him or herself that yes, they did it, but they were justified and the principal is an idiot. By the time we usually get in the car, the radio person is taking personal pot shots at the parent and things get pretty heated. At this point, all parental propriety has gone out the window and the parent is about to go down to the school and punch someone out. The language can get a little dicey.

Well, this morning, my son who is a Safety Patrol...that sanctified bastion of 5th grade status and responsibility (weren't they the geeks when we were in school?)...got a ride with my husband and they were listening to this morning's phone tap. The window was down and my son was about to get out of the car. Gathered nearby was a clutch of tiny kindergarteners and 1st graders. Rory reached over and turned the radio off. My husband (who was of course completely sucked in to the show) said, "Why did you do that?" My son (who has been known to curse like a sailor at times...we have no idea where the F*** he gets if from) said, "Dad, this isn't appropriate for these little kids to hear those expletives!"

PART III:
And this one is kind of serious. If you have been reading my blog for a while, you probably remember Casey, my son's friend who was in and out of the hospital for a couple of months battling Ulcerative Colitis. After trying several medications, a couple of blood transfusions, steroids and all the pretty side-effects that they bring...she is going to have surgery. She's a brave kid...she showed that throughout her dealings with the illness, hospitalizations, missing big events, etc. But the other day, she shocked the hell outta everyone.

She asked if she could speak to her 5th grade class about her illness and upcoming surgery. Even the teacher thought it would be an uncomfortable, 5 minute thing. But it ended up that Casey brought an outline of things that she wanted to say, she described everything from the colonoscopy to the surgery in great detail and patiently answered questions from the kids for 45 minutes. There was no giggling about the "scatological" (Casey's looking that up right now as she reads) nature of the illness or surgery or about the body parts involved. To say that it "shocked the hell outta" the teacher would be an understatement. She said, "It was a very poignant moment in my teaching career and one that I will never forget.  Casey, you are the bravest girl I know for handling your condition with grace and talking about it openly to dispel the stigma involved.  You are my hero! "

That's Ms. Root on the left, looking only slightly bigger than Casey on the right.

So the next time your child drives you crazy by leaving his/her backpack in the middle of the kitchen where you trip on it or has a hissy fit because you won't let him/her get a cell phone (I know, that only seems to apply to me...the lone hold out in the 11 year olds having cell phones controversy) or copies all of his/her iPod tunes over yours on YOUR iPod...remember...there will be moment, and probably many, where your child will "shock the hell out of" you...in a good way. In a way that tells you that you didn't scar him/her for life when you skipped over those pages of the Dr. Seuss book because you wanted to go watch Melrose Place, or when you didn't sign them up for the dance class because it conflicted with your Bunco night (insert Book Group, Mah Jongg or whatever excuse YOU have for getting together with your girlfriends and laughing and drinking wine) or when you only half listened to the excruciatingly long story about "like, she goes blah blah blah, and then he goes, blah blah blah" because you were reading or writing blogs.

These moments tell you...you're doing a good job. You're doing the best you can with what you have to work with. Your kids will rise to occasions that you never expected them to. And yes, they will shock the hell outta you!

Di

Thanksgiving

I am not confused about my holidays...nor am I going to take this opportunity to thank my mother, my grandmothers and various surrogate mothers throughout my life who have helped to shape who I am today.

This year Mother's Day is a milestone for me. My thanks are to the shadow of myself that you see here in a picture from last Mother's Day, when I was REALLY trying to pull it together and be there for my kids. I am sweeping my vanity aside because if there is anyone out there who reads this and thinks that depression is a "mood" or an "attitude", I dare them to look at this picture and think I should have just "pulled myself up by my bootstraps" or "taken up a hobby" or "gotten out more."

A year ago I was in the depths of a "major depressive episode" that would not respond to medication. It had begun months before, but by Mother's Day, I was rarely out of bed. I had ceased to feel any emotions. Joy was a distant memory and even my sadness felt devoid of true feeling. Seeing this picture, among the others taken on Mother's Day, was my wake-up call that something needed to happen or my life would be over....not literally...but there is no life if I can't experience:

• the joy of my children doing the cha cha slide
• the exasperation at how they leave their socks on the floor and in the cushions of the couch
• the tenderness of finding them asleep on the floor because they've come in our room in the middle of the night
• the consternation of deciding the appropriate consequence when they screw up
• the satisfaction when I overhear them say an unsolicited "thank you" to someone
• the awe of sharing the love of a book with them like when Haley and I both read Marley & Me and Rory's enthusiasm enticed me to reread The Outsiders

With so much to be thankful for today, my thanks go out mostly to the woman in the picture above. Somehow, she made the decisions that resulted in my being here today to write this. She couldn't have done it without the help of a support group that included my heroic husband, my understanding-beyond-their-years children, my always-there-in-exactly-the-way-you-need-her-to-be sister, my "assistant" and lifeline Teri, my understanding parents, the North Carolina child care team, Amy who has been there for everything for well over 20 years, my insightful therapist and my willing-to-try-whatever-I-was psychopharmacologist.

A month after that picture was taken, I was in the middle of a series of six ECT (aka electroshock, it's not just for McMurphy anymore) treatments that saved me from a life of defiantly going through the motions, only to collapse from the effort and burrow deeper into my bed.

The woman in the first picture is now the woman in this picture, enjoying life today in a way that seemed utterly impossible a year ago. Notice that I didn't let my vanity choose the most flattering picture of me (that would be the picture on the "About Me" part of my blog...after just having my hair done and my make-up done at the incomparable Salon Oasis of Boca). In this picture my cheeks are a little chipmunky, my gums are a little too prominent and there might be one more chin than I would really like showing...but my eyes show that elusive quality that people who are struggling with depression cannot fathom...JOY.

The joy in my eyes and in my heart is reinforced by the love of my husband who went to the dark place with me and helped to pull me back, never once giving up on me or our marriage.

If anyone reading this is single, take my advice and given the choice between the man who is going to change the diapers and the man who is going to tenaciously take the reins to keep his family on track, choose the latter.

The joy is both multiplied and tested by my children...let's face it...it's not all lollipops and blue ribbons. Adolescence is hard and parenting is hard...put them together and life is a tinder box. But we can't say it's not interesting. And the moments when we really connect and see past the day-to-day socks-in-the-couch, homework-not-done stuff are the moments we will remember and from which our future relationship will spring.

 

Haley with one of her surrogate Moms, Stacy and Rory with his friend Ross. If I've taught them nothing in life beyond how to be a friend, I feel like I've succeeded.

The joy is shared by the women who have become my friends...a term I don't use lightly (well, I kind of use it lightly...but everyone knows what I mean)...in the past several months.

I picked Laura up at Starbucks on the first day of school. Vicky and I had an on-line crush before we actually met.

Andrea can be my conscience when I haven't been at spin class in a while, but can also uncork a bottle of wine at 4 p.m. and spontaneously add three people for dinner without blinking an eye. She's spontaneous, insightful, candid, irreverent and a reader...if they had a E-Harmony for friends, they definitely would have put us together...and we would have lived happily ever after!

Stacy and I started by e-mail, but solidified in the trenches of last-minute Room Mom party planning...as well as my ability to make her the perfect margarita! We've survived the vicissitudes of our children's pre-adolescent flirtation, "love" and friendship. Being able to be her friend during her daughter's long hospitalization was the karmic closure I needed to "repay" the debts to those who were there for me during my illness.

So, for this year anyway, my Mother's Day is a milestone of surviving, thriving, thankfulness, family, friends and living life to its fullest. For now, that is enough. Maybe next year I'll just want breakfast in bed.

Di

Lockdown - Code Red

Let me preface this by saying that no one was hurt. Our children were returned safely to us. I wouldn't want you to go through even a few paragraphs of my blog without knowing the outcome if your anxiety level would be 1/1000th of my anxiety level when I got the call.

The call. It's the one that you don't want to get. It comes when you have no reason to expect it. The day started out on an off note when a woman rear-ended me in the parking lot of CVS. No damage to my car...so no big deal...just a pain in the ass (pun intended). My husband and I went to my son's school to see his Student of the Month ceremoney. Happy little faces beamed at proud parents in the audience, unselfconsciously holding high their yellow certificates of achievement.

The call. It came at 2:00 when my son would normally be on the bus on his way home already. It was Stacy. "Do you know what's going on? The school is in lockdown. Code Red." I still find it terrifying that we even know what this terminology means...and not just from the movies. I am so sad that our kids have to know these terms and the protocol for responding to them. I guess maybe our parents had the same response to the absurd "duck and cover" drills that we did in elementary school...which even then I knew were not going to help us in the event of a nuclear attack.

The call made my own review of Grace (Eventually) by Anne Lamott haunt me with the words, "...being a parent means you go through life with the invisible muzzle of a gun held to your head. You may have the greatest joy you ever dreamed of, but you will never again draw an untroubled breath." In the improbably slow minutes that followed, the muzzle of that gun was a cold, steely presence on my head.

In the milliseconds between understanding and response, the faces of these silly boys and these sleepy children flashed across the big screen in my head. An unexpected calm enveloped me as I struggled to figure out what to do, who to call. My first call was to my friend who works at the high school (whose son is also at the elementary school) and would have access to the most accurate information from the school system and the school police. My next couple of calls were to friends I knew would be at school in the carpool line. No one had any information...but I was told of police with guns surrounding the school, a SWAT team and a helicopter hovering overhead. The big screen in my head was now seeing my child's school on CNN.

As I slowly began to cry, gasping for breath, I finally called my husband. He had the good sense to tell me to stay put while he would drive over to the school. He also called a friend of ours and asked her to come over and stay with me. She arrived and helped me stay calm as my home phone and cell phone rang with friends each trying to give and get whatever information was available. A "suspicious" person was reported on campus...some reports had him armed. A SWAT team member told another friend that he had two children in the school and that if there was imminent danger, they would be inside already. Finally, after 45 horrific, long minutes, the "all clear" was announced. The phones began to ring again. Our relieved voices reassured each other and our natural inclination to regroup and plan. A friend reached the school and found out our kids could be picked up instead of waiting for buses that were delayed for an hour. She picked up three families worth of kids.

In the aftermath, the undercurrent of uncertainty and fear stays with us. We force a smile when our kids tell us the stories of how exciting it was...because to them, they don't see CNN, they see Heroes or Spiderman on the big screens in their heads. One friend e-mailed to say, "Let's all be thankful it was a big nothing and hug our kids harder today!" As I think back and read back on my reaction, the one word that stands out above all others is "friend." I am incredibly blessed to have several friends to call, who can call me, who can rise to the occasion, who can do the small things that count, who can look out for me and for each other. We dodged the bullet, the muzzle of the gun feels a little less tangible...but the friends are still there...and knowing that makes it all a little more bearable.

Di

No Breast for the Wicked

Apparently the defense NEVER breasts on this subject. If it continues to provide such wonderful fodder for my blog, I may just run out of plays on the word "breast".

For your continued enjoyment of this topic, I refer you to the South Florida Sun-Sentinel letters to the editor. With circulation of over 250,000, the people I'm quoting are getting a "slightly" larger audience from the newspaper than they do from people reading my blog. Today's installment, entitled "Gross Dining II" includes such classic arguments as:

• "If there is no sitter available, the parents...should forego dining out until the child is older." - No regard for the fact that we live in an area that is a tourist destination and owes no small part of its tax base to the money these tourists...who don't have too many alternatives to "eat in"...spend at our restaurants and hotels.
• "The child should be fed immediately before entering the restaurant." - Clearly this person is not aware that if you do have a reservation, you better be there and ready to sit down when your time comes...and babies are not quite as predictable with their schedules. And as for Houstons with its legendary waiting list, one could feed the child immediately before entering the restaurant and it could be time for his/her next feeding by the time you are seated. This is not an atypical situation during "season" in South Florida. Oh, but I'm sorry...the child shouldn't be there in the first place - see item above.
• "bring the long and time-honored pacifier, which will usually return young infants to sleep, at least for a while longer, almost immediately." - Yeah, for about the 15 seconds it takes the baby to realize that, "OMG, there is no F-ing milk coming out of this thing!"
• "It seems to most of us older folks who waited to take their children out to restaurants until they could avoid annoying other diners, that the young breastfeeding mothers in question are just trying to prove something by insisting on public breastfeeding." - First of all, I am sure that the rest of the "most" older folks are thankful that they have you to speak for them. Second, many of those older folks also toted babies in their arms while in a car, dipped those "time-honored" pacifiers in bourbon for colicky babies, smoked in enclosed places with their children and added rice cereal to formula to get babies to sleep through the night when they were just a few days old. And finally, I am neither young nor breastfeeding...but I am a mother...and I think the mothers "in question" are just trying to quietly and unobtrusively feed their babies. Mothers of infants are really too busy with other matters to put proving something high on their priority list.

OK...I promise that my Thursday Thirteen will NOT include the word "breast" in any way, shape or form.

Di

The Defense Breasts

The other day I learned that if you want to stir up some controversy on your blog...write about breastfeeding. When I started this blog nine months ago, I thought there would be controversy over my assertion that Jodi Picoult  was "selling out" with her last book or that The Stolen Child with it's magical realism was neither magical nor real to me! After almost 45 years as a female, it really hadn't sunk in yet that it's really all about boobs!

The following letter to the editor in the Sun-Sentinel speaks for itself...no need for my stupefied editorializing:

"To all of the idiots who think it's OK to breastfeed a baby in the middle of a restaurant because it's a 'natural function,' just remember that urinating is also a natural function, so I'll be bringing a bucket with me next time I go to Houston's.

Hope you're ready to explain that one to the kids."

Yes, sir...I think I am ready to explain this to my kids...and my blog-reading public. What I can't explain is how one could actually sign one's name to this and have it published in the newspaper.

Di

Breastaurant

The last time my breasts were used for their main purpose was over 10 years ago, so why would I blog about breastfeeding? Well…I guess I still remember the experience of nursing my two children…my saggy breasts being a daily, tangible reminder. And the following incident and subsequent feedback just pissed me off!

Recently a manager of a Houston’s here in South Florida asked a woman to leave the restaurant because she was breastfeeding her baby at the table. From the reports that I have read, the mom was nursing discreetly and the manager asked her to leave because another patron complained. Discreet or not, complaint or not…really irrelevant. We have laws in Florida that protect the right of a mother to nurse her child in public. The overwhelming sentiment has been against the manager and for the mother. The other day in the newspaper, there were three letters to the editor regarding the “breastaurant” controversy (I made that word up…kinda cool, right?) Admittedly, two were strongly and articulately in favor of the mom’s rights. And then there was this one (quoted from the Sun-Sentinel…name withheld because I can’t believe someone actually signed HER name to this!) – italics indicating where the letter is directly quoted:

The April 21 article of “mother being shocked when asked to leave after breastfeeding”? [editor’s note (that’s me, BTW) that’s not even a sentence OR a question…it is sadly lacking a verb]

Hello – this is a restaurant, not a nursery. Why not pump and bring a bottle? [OK…and how about if we ask you to use a catheter to urinate instead of urinating the natural way…why do things the easy, natural way if you can intervene with technology and plastic?]

Why not feed the baby before leaving for dinner? Why not use the restroom for that? [I just can’t contain myself…first of all…babies don’t tend to do anything like sleep, cry or eat, exactly when we want them to or not to. And having a baby doesn’t preclude you from eating out for the first year or two. And frankly, I’d rather see a quiet baby with a boob in his mouth than a whiny toddler whose parents are trying to cajole him/her into having a longer attention span so they can enjoy dinner. And I firmly believe that common sense should keep parents from bringing small children to fine, adult restaurants where their behavior might disturb patrons who are paying big bucks to have a fine dining experience. Houstons is NOT fine dining…the food is good and consistent, but it is noisy and bustling and a good choice for a family dinner out…and it has a children’s menu, so clearly children are expected to dine there. And the restroom!!! Come on…where exactly should she sit while nursing…on a toilet seat that doesn’t have a cover as most public restroom toilet seats don’t? She should feed her baby where no one else in that restaurant would choose to eat…probably the least hygienic and certainly the least appetizing part of the restaurant? Ugh!]

I would probably toss my food if I ever saw that. This was just a lady looking for a fight. Who would expose their family to a terrible night out? Five months old? It’s bottle time.

I am not a breastfeeding fanatic…it happened to be my choice and it worked well for me. Others make different choices for different reasons…physiological inability to breastfeed, lifestyle conflicts, working, etc. I support each mom’s choice to feed her child as she sees fit. My objection is to people who want to impose their attitudes and prejudices on other people who don’t do it their way.

Maybe if the letter-writer’s Mom had breastfed her she would be more relaxed and tolerant! ;)

Di

More Fun...but also kind of useless

The blushing bride above (Vicky) sent me one of those e-mails that I LOVE to complete, but hate to send to friends. But since my blogging public has overwhelmingly approved of my non-book blogging, I thought I would share this with you. Vicky has accused me of using her e-mail as blog fodder (fogger? says Vicky. blodder? says Di.) and I readily admit I will use anything as blog fodder. The "dittos" are things on which I concurred with Vicky's answers.

1. What is your occupation?  Slacker Mom, Blogger, Trophy Wife, Chauffeur, Financial Officer and Social Secretary for a family of four

2. What color are your socks right now?  No socks – it’s Florida!! Ditto!

3. What are you listening to right now? My dog breathing

4. What was the last thing you ate?  peanut butter sandwich

5. Can you drive a stick shift?   Yes...but bought my first car which was a stick and didn't know how to drive it...my dad had to drive it home for me...my aunt was having me go forward and backward in front of my house.

6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?   Lots of colors melted together and perma-stuck in the back seat of a car (translates...mercurial, eclectic, tenacious and slightly annoying)

7. Last person you spoke to on the phone?  Stacy

8. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Love her madly!

9. How old are you today?  44 Years and 341 days

10. Favorite drink?  Club Soda/Seltzer or Red Wine

11. Favorite sport to watch?  Football – Miami Dolphins. Ditto!

12. Have you ever dyed your hair? Only occasionally to get highlights for fun...I was blessed with dark brown hair that has not gone grey yet!

13. Pets? Toby the Dobie (1.5 year old red doberman)

14. Favorite food?  Filet Mignon from Costco cooked by my husband

15. What was the last movie you watched?  A Fish Called Wanda

16. Favorite day of the year?  May 26...I'm selfish...love birthdays...especially mine!

17. What do you do to vent anger? Rage, rage, rage. Curse. Sometimes remember to take a deep breath and relax...it works, but the raging and cursing feels more natural!

18. What was your favorite toy as a child? I think my sister absconded with all my toys...so I'll tell you my favorite toy now...my MacBook.

19. What is your favorite, fall or spring?     Spring, when we change the clocks and it stays light later.

20. Hugs or kisses?  Hugs...especially spontaneous ones from my family...and from my son's friends when they see me volunteering at school.

21. Cherries or blueberries? Blueberries....cherries are too much work with the pits.

22. Do you want your friends to email you back?  Always.

23. Who is most likely to respond?  If bloggers are included, maybe Ali or Karen.
24. Who is least likely to respond?  If bloggers are included, definitely Heather, who has absolutely no idea who I am.

25. Living arrangements? Fixer-upper that hasn't been fixered up in Boca.

26. When was the last time you cried?  Talking with Stacy last week...it was sort of empathy crying...she cries very easily...if you are an empathy crier, it can be exhausting

27. What is on the floor of your closet?  Laundry basket...Hurley's shoes...not mine because if Toby goes in there, he likes to play with them.

28. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending this to? If I was sending it, Amy would be the longest, BFF since before BFF was coined, before TLA's (three letter acronyms) were used for everything...since about 1982???

29. What did you do last night?  Had tacos and salad at Stacy's with the kids, helped work on her computer, came home and started a new book (The Whistling Season) and then played Gin Rummy on the computer until too late!

30. Favorite smells?  Lilac and cilantro...not together.

31. What inspires you?  Reading and writing.

32. What are you afraid of?  I ain't scared (in Maine accent...Vicky's new husband's family is from Maine and I learned a whole new dialect during the wedding week)...death

33. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? Cheeseburgers...ditto, but not crazy about burgers in general. I mean they are OK, but I will almost never order one at a restaurant...except maybe Cheeseburger in Paradise.

34. Favorite dog breed? Doberman

35. Number of keys on your key ring? At least 6...too lazy to go look...car key, keys to 4 different houses and probably one unknown

36. Number of years at your current job? 4 years of blissful retirement

37. Favorite day of the week?  Any day I can golf

38. How many states/provinces etc have you lived in?  3 - New York, Florida and North Carolina

39. Favorite holidays? Thanksgiving when Danny is cooking in Merritt Island

40. Ever driven a motorcycle or heavy machinery? My mother forbade me to ride on motorcycles, so I never rode on one or drove one. Seriously. If my Mom is reading this, she probably doesn't believe me because my boyfriend in high school had a motorcycle...but I really didn't ride on it!

I hope this gives me readers a little insight into me, beyond what I read. And I invite my fellow bloggers to use this as fogger/blodder for their own posts. Be sure to stop back and let me know if you do! I'll even put the Mr. Linky on here so you can post your link.

Di

Morning After Musings

Vicky got married yesterday and I believe there are many pounding heads in Boca this morning. The weather for the oceanside ceremony was perfect...for people like me with short hair that regularly looks wind-whipped. Those with long hair were carefully pulling it back from where it stuck to their lip gloss!

The reception was lots of fun...especially with the contingent of Maine friends who know how to party!!! Vicky looked stunning. Actually so did Stacy and I! Our perfect spray tans made us the envy of the self-proclaimed "pasty white" State of Maine residents.

We are not talking your run-of-the-mill spray tan. We tanned using the Versa Spa (models not included in the tanning fee) at the Boca Tanning Club. Yes, here in Boca he have a tanning club that is open 24 hours! I know that my readers from northern climes are thinking, why do they need a tanning club in Boca? It's sunny there all year round! And everyone is thinking, why would you need a tanning club that is open 24 hours? Well, here in Boca, we are quite busy...what with driving around town honking angrily at other drivers, meeting with plastic surgeons and shopping in those stores that require an armed guard to protect their handbags (which cost more than my first car!) So it is essential that we minimize the time we spend to obtain the perfect shade of golden skin. We can't be bothered spending hours at the beach with all that nasty sand, seaweed and water that is way too salty for our cholesterol levels! So, if our Ambien wears off at 4 a.m. and we look down to discover, egad, our skin is pasty white like those people from Maine, then we can just hop into our BMW and drop by the Boca Tanning Club before the kids even wake up. (I swear, I think the Boca Raton Chamber of Commerce should pay me for this blog!!!)

Although my head is still a little fuzzy, the third cup of coffee is kicking in and I want to close with this completely random thought: I think that Prada should come out with a line of baseball cleats and have all of the Tampa players wear them. Because then they could use the catchphrase:

The Devil Rays Wear Prada!!!

Di