I Love Snow But...

I love the cold, yes I do complain about it but I love it. I love the snow. I love big goose feather flakes, the way at night when the light from streetlamps shine on it, it looks like glitter. I love snowmen and sledding. I love hot cocoa and cuddling. I love skiing, um, no I don't but I love the lodge and the outfits. Really there isn't much about snow that I don't like.

Except...

Driving in it. Actually, I really don't mind that. What I do mind is the way some people drive in it. Just last Monday, we had a snowstorm of sorts. Okay, we had a snowstorm, with a total of eleven inches of snow within eight hours, give or take. And yes, visibility was zero at times. Oh, and did I mention the wind? Yes, there was wind, causing the whiteouts which of course makes visibility zero. But with all that, the Princes of the Plow were out in full force so the roads were passable.

I try to be a defensive driver in the snow, a storm really isn't the place for road rage. However, each time I drive in the snow the thought does cross my mind. I try to drive as conditions warrant. I do not drive 40 m.p.h. in blinding snow. I do not tailgate the car ahead of me. I do not pass the car ahead of me either.

This is probably my thirtieth winter driving in the snow and again it never ceases to amaze me what winter drivers do. These people really should become snowbirds and drive south for the winter. It amazes me that drivers in that big SUV with the four wheel drive go speeding down the street. Guess what? That four wheel drive is worthless when you hit the patch of black ice. What is going through your mind as you head toward that ditch. I think it may sound like, "Holy shit! My insurance is going to go up!". And that dinner you were hurrying to get home too? You're going to be late. If you had slowed down, you'd me sopping up the gravy with that warm biscuit.

Please tell me why it is necessary to pass the car ahead of you in a storm? I am quite sure that the man or woman in that car ahead of you is driving as he or she thinks is safe for the conditions. If the driver feels that going 20 m.p.h. is safe instead of 35, then let it go. I for one am not in any hurry to kill myself on the way to my destination. I'm just funny like that. And by the way, what prize did you win to get to the red light before me? Is it over $1000? You have to claim that you know.

And then we have the tailgater. Is there a reason that you feel the need to sit on my ass? If you are looking to have coffee with me, just flash your headlights. Oh, look! A deer crossing the road. I have to put on my brakes fast. BAM! I wonder what was going through your head on impact? I know, "Holy shit! My insurance is going to go up!". Not only that, since you rear ended me, you're lawyer will be hearing from my lawyer. Maybe they will have coffee.

Watch out Florida, I'm sending these nuts to you!

Christmas Traditions

Snow, scarves, boots and mittens
Sleds, saucers, toboggans and Mom can we have a kitten?
Snowmen, angels, snow forts and fights at the creek
Skis, jackets, the lodge and rosy cheeks.

The Wishbook, malls, sales and parking lots
Plazas, cafes, Macy's and small shops.
Packages, crowds, and I'll fight for that last game
Clerks, store Santas and long lines in exchange.

Writing cards, annual letters and would you like religious or contemporary stamps
Wrapping gifts, ribbons and where's the tape?
Boxes, bags and lots of tags
Carols, house hopping and a gift exchange.

Baking pies, cookies and brown bread
Frosting cutouts, ribbon candy , are those sugar plums in your head?
Turkey, stuffing, squash and cranberry jelly
Don't forget to put out mill and cookies for the elf with the big belly.

Sleigh bells, reindeer hooves, to bed early, and last last glass of water
The tree, a string of lights, to blink or not.
Ornaments, tinsel, and the electric train
The nativity, mulled wine, candles and a warm fire.

Waking early, big breakfast and fruit in the stockings
Toys, jewelry, perfume and socks again?
Ham, candied yams, family and the kids table
Hot cocoa, kids sleeping, It's a Wonderful Life and you.

Merry Christmas to All

The Little Drama Queen

For years I wanted a baby sister, I'd say at least five years but closer to eight. I was a little over two years old when the first of my three baby brothers was born. Much too young to realize the "joys" of a little brother. He was quiet and didn't cramp my style. Yes, I had style at the age two.

By the time my parents were expecting their third bundle of joy, I had realized the "joys" of having a little brother. Having shared a room with him for nearly three years, hibernating bears don't snore as loud as him, I was ready for a change. I placed my order for a sister. Six months later, Paul arrived. Apparently you can't place orders. It was a short nine months later that mom was pregnant again (she swore until her dying day that she didn't know how it happened. Please Mom, you had five kids, it happened the same way it happened with the other four). This time I didn't place an order. I just informed them that if it was another boy, don't bother coming home with it.

Fortunately for my parents, they were able to bring my sister home. She was born on my dad's birthday, I was no longer daddy's little girl. We were all named after someone. My named is Lynda Jean because every baby doll was named Lynda and the Jean was to keep my dad happy (his name is Eugene and mom wasn't fond of it. Since he'd never have a son with his name, I was saddled with it). James Barlow was named after my mom's brother who passed away at age of 17 days. Paul Benjamin was named after my father's cousin Paul (sorry Cathy, it really wasn't Paul McCartney) and my maternal grandfather. My dad gave my sister the name of Lenora Arlene. Lenora after my mother (she wasn't happy about it but when under the influence of heavy duty drugs she really had no choice) and Arlene after her cousin. Now the youngest of this growing family is David Andrew. Now, I'm not sure where David came from (I have always suspected a long lost beau of mom's) but Andrew was my dad's favorite uncle's name.

Well, got myself off track there a bit, this is the story of the little drama queen after all. It was at a very young age that Lenora began to exhibit her flare for the dramatic. When, at the age of two, she did not get her own way, she throw herself, back toward the sofa and arm over her forehead, lower lip quivering and crying "why?" that had just a touch of whine in it.

During Lenora's first year of school, she had my mother really snowed. She was out of school more than in. It finally took the truancy officer and his visit to our house to convince Lenora into going to school. He told her that if she didn't beginning attending school, he would have her mother arrested. The look on her face was a true Kodak moment and the next morning began attending.

Of course, there are those times in a child's life when she truly is sick. Our generation was blessed with the very best in childhood diseases that today's generation is missing out on. Measles, mumps, chicken pox, and so on. And of course we had the flu. Now it was standard in our home for the one(s) that was sick to camp out in the parlor. On the sofa with lots of pillows, blankets, your favorite sick cup, box of tissues, a brown paper shopping bag for the mountains of tissues and last but not least, the bucket. Let me begin by stating that Lenora was not one to suffer in silence. Oh, we were not blessed, she always made it know that she was sick. Aside from the moaning and groaning, she would call out to mom "Can kids die from this"? After a fashion, mom got tired of hearing it and would yell back "Yes they can if they keep driving their mommies crazy enough"!

It was about this time that my dad's best friend (and our future stepfather, which is a whole blog unto itself) gave her the nickname Sarah, after the silent film star, Sarah Bernhardt. Lenora would have put her to shame. On occasion, I would treat Lenora to a trip to our local plaza with one of my friends. By this time I was a young teen and she got a thrill hanging out with the big girls. In the neighborhood where I grew up, the nearest place was about a mile walk where the local record store was located. In order to actually get to the plaza, we would have to cross a busy four lane street. I would take one hand, my friend the other. As the light turned green, we would make our way across the street...Lenora yelling from the moment her foot stepped off the curb "We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die" and once her foot stepped up on the opposite curb, "See, I told you we'd be fine".

In my favorite Disney movie, Sleeping Beauty, each faerie gives Princess Aurora a gift. When I had asked Lenora to be our daughter's godmother, I had no idea that the gift she would be given would be to become our own Little Drama Queen. It was during Laura's second bout of scarlet fever when she was five, she lay on the sofa in the parlor with her box of tissues and bucket, she cried out "God, what have I done to make You punish me like this"? Isn't it wonderful, the torch has been passed.

In loving memory. Thank you for all the love you passed this way.

The Joys of Pregnancy

As far as I'm concerned, there were none. All of the "you'll love being pregnant" and "it's the best time in a women life"--all bull. Don't get me wrong, the end result, 17 years later, is a beautiful young woman that I am very proud to call my daughter and friend. I did not love being pregnant nor was it the best time of my life.

I had been on the pill for over ten years so when I went off, I would not let my husband touch me for a month, I wanted nothing left in my system. Let's just leave it that he took a lot of cold showers that month. There was also a deadline, there was no way I was going to be pregnant over the summer months. With a smirk on his face, his said "No problem, you want a baby, done deal. You'll be pregnant in a week or less". This was in July, I got pregnant in November which meant I would be pregnant through the summer. So much for "No problem" and "Done deal".

My body must have changed the moment the baby was conceived. I spent the next six weeks thinking I had the flu bug. After a visit to the doctor's, I discovered my "flu bug" had arms and legs. The next three months I ate nothing but watermelon hard candy and saltines. I am convinced that the term "morning sickness" first came out of a man's mouth, because no woman would ever call it that. The only time I wasn't sick was in the morning! When I asked my doctor if it would ever end and when I would start enjoying my pregnancy, he said, "Morning sickness only lasts through the first trimester. You'll start enjoying it then". How naive I was.

Because of family history, I have always had, not high blood pressure but borderline to high. My pressure began to drop like cement shoes on an unfortunate informant. I was sure that I would be dead before the baby was born. I was no longer sick everyday but with my pressure dropping, I would become lightheaded and have to fight the urge to faint. During this time the baby felt the need to let it's presence known. Bet you're thinking, butterflies and gentle little kicks...dead wrong. My bladder was used as a punching bag during the day and a pillow to be fluffed at night. Needless to say, to this day, I can still pee on demand. Something one might not be proud of, but a talent nonetheless.

It was also during my second trimester that the doctor thought that the baby may have Downs Syndrome. It's head was measuring to large compared to the femur. I spent hours, well maybe not hours, trying to convince this educated man that I was the abnormal one in the family. I have long legs, no one else does. I have long "pickpocket" fingers, no one else does. If I didn't look like my Dad, I'd be hunting down the Fuller Brush man now. So, after all the testing, amniocentesis, the weekend of contractions, and eating like food would become scarce any minute, I find out the baby is normal. No kidding. The "I told you so" was spoken aloud.

Medical science is wonderful. The amniocentesis was able to tell us if we would have a boy or girl. My husband and I had decided that we would wait until the little bundle of joy to arrive. However, my, who I thought was a traditionalist, mother was with me. She wanted to know the sex and started after the doctor. Those of you that knew my mother can picture this, right? What can I say, I caved. I knew a half a dozen women in the waiting room and the thought of my mom running after the doctor was more than I could handle. So I was having a healthy baby girl. Who had a crazed woman as a Grandmother. Again, I asked my doctor when I would enjoy my pregnancy. "This is just a little bump in the road. You'll be enjoying it soon". I was so naive.

It wasn't long after that when the doctor wanted to know how I gained eight pounds in two weeks (eating was the answer) and was told my blood pressure was so high that I was out of work on maternity leave on stroke precautions. My house has never been cleaner than those first three days on leave. I would love to know how you can rest, on your left side mind you, from two o'clock until four when the only time he makes his appointments for me was between two o'clock and four. I was in his office at least three times a week and sometimes up to four times a day having stress tests done. By that time, he had me in the hospital to have the non stress tests done. I had learned how to cheat (she wasn't a very active baby)...elevated heart rate, baby is moving, hit the button and make doctor happy. Works like a charm.

Right about now, it's June, due on August 8th. I ask the doctor one last time, "When am I going to start enjoying this pregnancy"? He answers in a quiet, sad voice, "When the baby is born".

And that my friends is a story for another time.