"AND TO YOUR RIGHT, RAMPANT HEATHENS"

St D and I had our first vacation last week.  As hard working individuals, it was DESPERATELY needed, by late April!  Thanks to the fine folks at Pfizer, we haven't really been sick much since 2024 began, so no sick days, and I was about to drive down I75 and NOT STOP had we not taken our break.

We flew to Baltimore to visit our amazing friends- well ok, back up... we flew to CHICAGO, then Baltimore (thank you Southwest), THEN went to visit our amazing friends.  Seeing them always relaxes us because, like us, they find solitude in laughter, fun conversation, and sweatpants.  It's truly a beautiful marriage between us.  My beloved and I would walk the trails behind their neighborhood and bird watch- 

(OK... can I stop here real quick; we have REALLY become bird nerds!  I mean Dan was looking up what a yellow bellied wurbler looked like, and being in the Charm City, we thought for SHIT SAKE we would see about 3,145 orioles, but notta one?  Sadly we did see about 10,982 RAVENS flags, but dammit we were really hoping to see the O's!)

Ok... got that out... moving on...

So blah blah blah... it was RELAXING!  But one of the field trips that we have grown accustomed to with Ant and Mary Ann (Italian, from Queens, lived in Jersey for years, go back and say their names, but in a Tony Soprano kinda manner- NAILED IT) is to drive about a little over an hour to Lancaster PA.  It's safe, there are shopping outlets, Amish, and besides almost running them off the road from time to time, a fun town to visit!  We cap off our day of near Amish homicide and shopping with a visit to a small town called East Earl PA.  So ok, not a lot to see there.. but... they are home to...

SHADY MAPLE SMORGASBORD.

Google's free.  Go on, look it up!

It's definitely a "hungry man's paradise".  For about $24.99, you can feast for four hours- undoing ANY million dollar triple bypass within minutes!

Now in all fairness, this joint is really nice.  It has beautiful three dimensional art in the lobby, a really diggity dope gift shop downstairs, very nice restrooms (yes, a place can rise or fall to ashes based on the cleanliness and classiness of their shitters... moving on...).  And again, we venture there with Tony and Carmella EVERY YEAR, so its charm definitely does keep us comin' back.

But with all of that said... this year in particular, my blog juices got to flowin!  Much like the fountain of soft serve was doing at the dessert bars!

Folks, in general, lose their ever loving freakin MINDS when provided with WAY too many food options! I realized what the scene looked like to me- imagine human beings being air lifted onto Mars- despite not being able to survive for 1.8 seconds due to the heat, imagine us just walking around, looking aimlessly... the occasional spin of confusion.  OR the zombies in "Night of the Living Dead".  We all walk going -.32 miles an hour.  There is a blank stare on our faces.  The human brain wasn't meant to compute so many pleasurable emotions at one time!

IS THAT HAM?

DO I SMELL SWISS CHEESE CUBES IN A PLASTIC BIN?

WHAT ARE TONGS?

IS IT A SIN TO PUT MY FRIED CLAMS ON THE SAME PLATE AS MY PISTACHIO SALAD?

I mean, this joint is so huge, that ...ok... it starts with huge soft drink and coffee stations (BORING)... but then you venture back towards paradise, and there are two huge GRILL stations- want a Ribeye.. BOOM! Sausage and onions?  WA LA!  A HOT DOG? (SURE BUT WHY THE EFF ARE YOU GETTING A HOT DOG AT THIS JOINT?)  ALL THREE... BUT OF COURSE! (but first sign this waiver).  But just past the 189 degree flat tops are two IDENTICAL SALAD BARS- one to the left, one to the right.  Smart folks these Shady Maple designers-  "we are going to be feeding 1,987 folks at once, so how about we have the SAME shit to the left as the right.. pick a direction and keep going".  But NOOOOO... Jethro and his brood wonder around like (see above description of slow moving, zombie like aliens) thinking that there is "something better" to the left, even though they just filled up their plates on the right.

CORN, WE'RE GONNA NEED CORN HERE!

OHHHHH JOHN LOOK, CHICKEN CROCHETS AND TACO SALAD!

HEY WANDA, GRAB ME 3 PIECES OF THAT CARROT CAKE, BUT FIRST, ADD 17 LBS OF WHIPPED CREAM TO EACH (GOD that actually sounds good)

I started wondering if my judgement of these folks was being reciprocated?  I mean cmon, I'M THERE TOO?  But then I realized that I grabbed a clean plate and stood in line patiently, while 5 people cut in to grab that extra corn muffin and 19oz of ranch dressing.  I actually did structure my meal in the "proper Americanized order"- salad, entree (ok, so I went up 3 diff times and got 7 diff entrees but still), then dessert. I wore actual clothes- and a bra.  OH and I had showered first.  BUT I'm sure sandwiched in between "Thor" (complete with PJ pants, flip flops, and two ram-like french braids in the back of his other wise bald head) and Wanda (JOHN... grab me another 3 lbs of the fried shrimp balls), was a somewhat "routine" person, possibly eye balling me thinking "Ok you high haired Ohioan, how much more peanut butter sauce can you pour in that damn bowl?"

And I hope that they blog, and I hope that I read about me :)

 

 I KNOW I USED TO BE CRAZY....

Not really.

As my sister lovingly likes to point out to me, I was indeed, a nerd.

A goody goody.

Well OK, back up... I did my fair share of questionable shit, BUT, I just managed to NEVER GET CAUGHT!  Oh, and I was an honor student.  And I didn't smoke.  So yeah, revert back to "goody goody".

I loved school- I mean Jesus (capitalized as if I'm speaking to Him and not being blasphemous), instead of getting a job my senior year of high school, I would fill any "void" periods with "office aid" shit.  I LOVED being there? (I can feel it.. you are all team "my sister" at this point ).  I participated in clubs, ran copies, etc... I even remember helping the school secretary clean out an old storage closet!

Do I have any regrets? NO.  No I do not.  It was who I was at that time in my life.  We all try at some moment in time of our life journey to "change to please others", but all in all, I've just always been "me".  Love me, hate me, find me to be annoying, love the shit out of me... yeah.  

Fast forward to well, NOW.

I'm an eclectic lover of music.  I mean ANY AND ALL MUSIC!  I've been spoiled the last few years ever since St D lovingly bought me a 2017 Honda CRV, complete with a "free" subscription to Sirius, which then turned into "Hey, continue your free subscription for only $2.99 for the next 90 days" to "Hey dipshit, you're hooked aint ya?  LOOK AT ME NUMB NUTS... WE ARE THE CAPTAIN NOW... PAY US WHAT WE WANT".  I run the gambit on "70s on 7" and "Mosaic", then getting in the mood for Neil Sedaka and Connie Francis on "50's on 5".  I go from belting out "American Woman" to "9 to 5" to "Chains and Things" to "In Case You Didn't Know".  

So with all of that mumbo jumbo said, I'm really out of touch with what is actually the "here and now" in local hits.  Yet I find them.  Oh yea, Sirius DOES have normal modern era music- I HAVE HEARD of Olivia Rodrigo, and SZA.  I was impressed with my "modern day music knowledge" when Abs converted St D and myself into old, "kinda" Swifties, and Miley Cyrus' "Flowers" was my JAM!  And by the looks of her performance of said song on the Grammys this year, EVERYONE UNDER THE SUN finds "Flowers" to be THEIR JAM too.  

I then noticed Sirius playing a lot of her follow up hit "Used to be Young", so I finally took a break from the Guess Who and Suzie Quatro and "stumbled in" (hehe) to listen.  OH MILEY!  I mean I've never been a huge mega fan, even when a young Abigail lived and breathed Hannah Montana. (eh, maybe not that crazy, but she watched it.. moving on....)  But her voice, her talent!  It's a letter to herself- to those that keep telling her that "she's changed" and "whatever happened to the girl that...".

I know I used to be crazy

I know I used to fun

I know I used to be wild

That's cus I used to be young

I found myself drawn to it.  Loving it.  "Feeling it".  

But WHY?

Scroll back up to my era of NERD-DOM.

I was never crazy- I was fun but in a dork kinda way.  I wouldn't call going to see Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Neon movies at midnight every Saturday with St D and my crew as necessarily "wild". 

But, I used to be young.

And I revel in the memories.

I smile thinking of my "past".  I smile even more at my PRESENT.  And I look forward everyday to my FUTURE.

 

I know I used to be nerdy

Straight A's but GOD was it fun

I know I used to be normal

That's cus I used to be young.

 BREATHE, BREATHE IN THE AIR...DONT BE AFRAID TO CARE...

I gotta be honest- I really wasn't much into the countdown, the constant yammering, of the solar eclipse. I went into yesterday without even (PARISH THE THOUGHT) possessing a pair of eclipse glasses!  (yeah, I know!)  My news family on Newscenter 7 were counting down for the last 3 months,  and although the idea of the economy being boosted by something other than Taylor Swift was encouraging, I approached April 8th like well... I didn't.

I tend to be one of those people that get uber excited about 3 minutes before the "event"- New Years Eve is just a fun, end of the year ritual, complete with celebrating the birthday of our great friend, prepping to drink like I was going to the chair, and THEN, about 90 seconds before the ball drops in Time Square, my inebriated heart starts to race a bit.

So all of that said, yesterday was just a normal Monday, complete with pondering my life decisions as I hopelessly got ready for work.  By about 12:30 pm, I was the sole survivor in the office, considering my lack luster attitude about the eclipse must have telekinetically been transposed to my boss, because not once was I told "Hey, get on outta here around 1 and go enjoy the eclipse at home!"  I sat here ticky tappin away on my keyboard, working, scowling...

Then, as I was eye rolling life... I noticed.  It was about 1:32pm.  Hmmmm.. wonder what's goin down outside?  I walked out and looked directly at the sun (yeah) and thought ok, I dont see shit!? (other than the start of retinal burn) I thought it was going to start around now?  My daughter shortly after texted and said "The sun is halfway covered, it's actually pretty cool looking".  OK.... my blessed eldest nugget usually doesn't get too excited about this crap either, so for her to relay this information to us, I started feeling it.  That "90 seconds before the ball drops".  I saw the guy from across the hall out smoking and asked if he had any extra glasses, and said he has one pair and they are on his desk and "have at".  I found said glasses and walked back outside and looked up (properly) and saw it- the moon was beginning to blanket our sun!  Amazing that the solar eclipse glasses um, actually WORKED?
I then found myself stepping out (like Joe Jackson told us to do back in the 80s) about every 15 min, eye spyin (properly) and being in awe of I don't know.. our universe?  I started noticing more and more of the fine employees of building 228 going out back to the parking lot and one of them asked me if I needed glasses because "she has a ton of them".  I thanked her and saundered outside.  It was about 2:50pm. 
And then it happened.
I was again amongst the finest people that I don't know- I see some of the gals in the potty from time to time- nice "good morning" smiles are shared in the lobby.  And yet me and this merry band of 228 office building goons were about to experience BEAUTY that none of us will ever see again in these here parts.  I booted up "Dark Side of the Moon" on my phone- some nameless guy sitting on the concrete wall said "Hell yeah!", and started singing.  Another guy said he was going to go and lay in the grass.  I found myself chuckling with some of the ladies, laughing how the news had to "inform people" NOT TO DRIVE with the glasses on- UM, I was blinder than Stevie Wonder?  NO SHIT!  We kept looking up and every now and then mentioning "ONLY A SLIVER LEFT".
Soon after, TOTAL ECLIPSE!  We all marveled at the drop in temperature.  The sky went to dusk.  I LITERALLY heard crickets!  We marveled at the beauty in front of us as we all dropped our glasses to our hands.  We felt spiritual.  We were, if only for a few brief minutes, a "family"?  No "pleasant" smiles in a lobby.  No "flushing of toilets" to interrupt restroom small talk.  We were experiencing one of natures most spectacular phenomenons- together.  We laughed.  We stood looking at Heaven in awe.  Suddenly the world didn't exist around us except for what was placed in front of us.
Then we all smiled, nodded, and walked back into reality.
I said last week in my first blog in 914 years that I find beauty in the ordinary.
I found PEACE in the extraordinary.

 EWWWWWW THAT SMELL!

 

My sister and I were never raised to put "hammer to nail" so to speak. 

 Dont get me wrong- lil sis and I had great childhoods!  But my father was never really "hands on" when it came to home improvement- and the lovely Linda Marie had the most kick ass father in allll the land (at least the 45416), so Grandpa was always our knight in shining tool belt!

I suppose this is why we barely knew what a wrench was, let alone how to build a fence.  I recall the first time I knew the difference between a flat head and Philips head screwdriver (which wasn't all THAT long ago), and all of the sudden thought I was Bob freakin Villa!

But slowly over adulthood, and being married with a mortgage, St. D and I realized that it was much cheaper to LEARN and DIY than to hire someone to do it for us.  It was around that era that I started to first experience my first interactions with...well..."those places".  Again, I never grew up with home improvement projects being thrust upon me and if it wasn't Kmart, Rinks, Gold Circle, or Salem Mall, I just didn't SHOP THERE!  I could tell you where Funway Freeway was in said mall, but couldn't tell you what "drywall" was.  Learners, Elder Beerman, J C Penney, and Sears were my meccas, but NEVER the "Black and Decker" section of Mr. Robuck.

Those places.  Quotation makes adorned those two words, so ya just KNEW I'd explain.

I'm talking about... (pause, whew... just... the feels coming over me just THINKING about them)... HOME IMPROVEMENT STORES!

Lowes. Menards.  Possibly Home Depot (dont really hit that one much but I'm sure it would give me the same awesome sense of euphoria).  A few years back, my girlfriend and I talked of our love... our love of the the smell of walking into a Lowes- and knowing that shit was about to get REALLLLL special!  The smell hits you in the face like a brick of pesticide- MMMMMMMM my GOODNESS TAKE THAT SHIT IN!  

Whether it's a major room renovation, or needing light bulbs- "Hi I need a mega bottle of Downy Unstoppables", or "Hey um, the dog crapped on our brand new Burber, can ya point me in the direction to Floor Coverings, and the nearest pet cemetery", these utopias of blue collar just hit me where I live!  The aroma tantalizes your senses the second you walk in to find a cart... or a pallet...and I feel more alive than I normally do on a lazy Saturday.

As I was mowing our lawn this morning, (with our new self propelled Toro Mower, purchased at yea... LOWES), I began dreaming of a reason to go after I was finished.  MULCH!  BLACK MULCH FOR THE BACK GARDEN!  Once my task was complete, I knew all that I had to do was wash the sweat off of my face and run a brush through my weave to relieve it of any lawn/bush debris.  I texted Abs to let her know that I was "GOING TO LOWES"... her reply "OOOF, how embarrasing", and OFF I WENT!

As I saundered into the Lawn and Garden section, I realized that this wasn't going to be a quick "Hi I need 4 bags of Premium Black Mulch" kinda visit.  No.  I was by myself.  With a Lowes card (well ok, St D has it but ya throw them your license and they will find ya.. oh yeah,... they will).  I walked into my Graceland, and began lovingly gazing at patio furniture.  Then lawn gnomes.  I found myself eyeballing "pond fountain pumps", even though I don't own a fountain.  Or a pond.  I dreamed of gutting our kitchen (again) and replacing everything with stainless steel appliances...I ran my lawn work stained hands over PVC piping like Ralphie did the Leg Lamp in A Christmas Story.  Why?  Cus I could.

Why was I looking at Clorox Pool tablets?  Do I really need another pair of garden gloves?  (Considering I dont wear them anyways- revert back to "lawn work stained hands")  I walked down aisles looking at light fixtures, Valspar paint, and storage bins.  I breathed in the smell of ceramic floor tile, and almost did one of those Julie Andrew twirls as I got to (man..oh man..) LUMBER!  I was in my paradise.  I was in my Heaven.  Like MacLemore in a Thrift Shop, I'da bought a broken keyboard, if it smelled like Miracle Grow.

I ended up buying my 4 bags of mulch and a bottle of Dasani water- $11.08 cash.  My mental tab by the time if was all said and done? Around $93,768.14.

Ponds aint cheap.

 OHHH what's 12, 13 years....

BLOGGER!  OH how I have missed thee!  Well ok, truth be told I haven't thought much about blabbing my inner most thoughts for some time- again, laziness, age, mortgages, adult children, small godchildren, kinda, sorta take up a lot of time, ya dig?

I used to be able to come up with plithy dribble at the drop of a hat.  I'd be drifting off to sleep, wondering why my thoughts were racing, and instead of counting sheep, I would get up, boot the old "Gateway" desktop (sitting next to our bed), and write a half hour diatribe about insomnia and stupid shit entering my nighttime thought process ("did I pay the DP&L bill, why is an olive floating in my brain).  I would see a commercial for "E-Harmony" and immediately write a damn Lifetime in my head- complete with names and weirdo scenarios.

Then eh, again, who knows what happened?  I always blame shit on "getting older", but I honestly think my new passions in the evenings were no bra, PJs, and any game that I could download onto my phone.  Dont get me wrong, those are STILL my PASSIONS (I will be playing that shit sans 8:42pm later this evening), but something lately has just rejuvinated my want.. no, my NEED to write?  If only for those that know me to read and begin compiling "evidence" for my commitment hearings down the road.

It possibly began this past Sunday.  It was Easter Sunday to be exact.  We just got done having an amazing family get together at my daughter and son in law's house, and because I can't leave any dish "unwashed", I stayed behind to help them with K-P detail.  My sister and her family went to the cemetery to visit my dad, nephew, and grandparents, and once I was done, and since St D and Abs drove home separately, I ventured to said cemetery on my own to pay my respects.

I used to love cemeteries.  I mean I would go on my lunch break (when I took them) and walk around, visiting "older" relatives, enjoying the peace.  The tranquility if you will.  Sunday was a gorgeous day- sunny, not super chilly... I found myself kneeling over my nephew and my dad, picking a few weeds around their stones... apologizing for stepping on them.  I then drove to the back of said cemetery and talked smack with my bestie's daughter... 

Then I realized- I was weeding my nephews tombstone.  I was talking smack to my best friend's daughter... laughing with my dad at how I hoped I wasn't stepping on his nutsack.

I realized- fucking life got in the way.

It smacks you in the face like an anvil.  It takes those that you love with every ounce of your soul without even asking permission.  

I've been absent from writing for some time, but I can guaran-freakin-tee you, the last 7 years, I've had no joy in regailing anything in writing.  We as a family and close knit friend community trudge on- we god damn HAVE TO!  And life in general is glorious.  Redd in Shawshank said it best-"get busy living, or get busy dying".  LIFE took that away from those we have lost.  WE have a choice.  So we get busy LIVING every. Damn. Day.  And I find beauty in the most ordinary things.

But sometimes, I'm reminded that "some birds aren't meant to be caged, their feathers are just too bright.  And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice, but still the place that you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone.  I guess I just miss my friend." 

I need to stop being afraid to write.  I need to laugh at the ridiculous.  I need to take my insomnia and turn it into an imaginary story of the ants I saw in my bathroom one night and their sad stories of their anthill condos being destroyed by leaf blowers.. and how Chris and Stephanie now have to find subsidized housing...

I wanna get back to silly.

PROUD PARENT OF SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER 221-53......

PROUD PARENT OF SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER 221-53......

It's been way too long.

And all that shit....blah fuckity blah blah.

Not that there has been a "lack" of anything inspiring, comical, uplifting, or shocking in my recent life- I just think my brain goes into "sleep" mode more often than it used to. I mean in the last year, I have moved my oldest daughter into an apartment (better than our own damn house) and she is now attending (and loving) mortuary school in Cincinnati. My youngest has her temporary permit, and, although she seems to drive quite well, shows no real motivation for it, which translates into my continuation as "taxi service", well into 2013 at this pace. St. D is doing grand; our jobs are, well, we still HAVE them...So all in all, we are doin' just fine....

Which leaves me time to notice the little annoying SHIT around me. :)

Ever since I became a parent, I have OOZED with pride over my children. Ask me about them, as if you really want to know, and I can talk your ear off for an hour without stopping for air. In my eyes my girls are the most beautiful, smartest, and enriching goofballs that a sperm and egg could have ever created!

But ONLY if you ask me about them. (and ONLY if you really seem to want to know).

Don't get me wrong- immediate family, grandparents, aunts, etc... they will get the 411 ALWAYS! Close family friends too. It's just part of the "deal" we make with all of the above. I won't even bat an eye if my close girlfriend gets out the latest school pictures of her brood, and will proudly show off said pics on my hallway wall and fridge. And whereas there is nothing WRONG with being proud of our children, and WANTING to talk non-stop about their first bowel movements, the goal they scored in youth soccer, and the B & E wrap that they beat in court, as a society, we have to start realizing that not EVERYONE cares. To be honest, MOST DONT! When I see "Karen" in Walmart in the checkout line, and she casually makes small talk and asks how "the girls" are doing- I know to keep it to a quick "Oh GREAT! I couldn't be prouder!..And your kids? How are they?" Karen and I both have ice cream, milk, Vodka, and Ring Dings that need checked out and taken home QUICKLY.... so WRAP UP THE NICETIES!!

So it still, to this day, amazes me how much our society LOVES to place our moppets on some God-forsaken pedastal, to the tune of creating an unsafe situation. I see it EVERYDAY I drive to and from work- when I park at the grocery. I know that the red Windstar van that seems to travel my same root in the mornings is so fucking proud of "Kellen" (#32, Northmont Green 3rd grade Pee Wee Football) and "Kylie" (7th grade cheer- Northmont Middle School), that said "proud parent" is willing to PLASTER this shit on the rear window... most likely fucking up the rear defrost mechanism...for not just me, but I'm sure the area pedophile, to see.

To study.

To remember.

Whereas I find it more annoying than anything, I'm sure "Walter", the registered sex offender, knows now that if he attends the Northmont "Green" 3rd grade Pee Wee football game in the fall to "scope" out, that #32's name is "Kellen"....hoping that "Kellen"'s proud mamma and pop aren't watching when he follows...

And before you think I swiped this from Season 4 of Showtimes "Dexter", I make no claim to coming up with this horrific scenario myself- "Dexter"'s creators seem to also be annoyed by the same bullshit. The unassuming beige van with the "sticker family" on the back (another one of my all time "favorites") depicts "Mom", "Dad", "Kyle" and lil' sister "Emma" (can't remember the exact names, fuck it, be happy I'm penning this blog- don't feel like researching the correct names... moving on....). "Trinity", the Season 4 serial killer (played BRILLIANTLY by John Lithgow) lurks a few spaces down to see a young girl (too young to be the mother, most likely the sitter), getting young "Emma" out of her car seat while an older, maybe 9-10 year old KYLE gets out and waits. Upon entering the "arcade", he sees "Kyle" all alone.. playing a game. "Kyle"? (Trinity asks the young, unsuspecting boy)... "Yea? How did you know my name"? "I'm a police officer Kyle- I have already informed your sitter and she has Emma out by my police car- your parents have been in an accident and you need to come with me right away...."

Do I need to go on?

"Yea, well my kid isn't stupid enough to fall for this... we have told them that...."

Are ya sure? I'm not stupid enough to blast my kid's names and accomplishments on my rear view window either, in some attempt to PROVE that they are WONDERFUL and that I'm PROUD OF THEM to the entire world! I pretty much tell them all the time in the privacy of my own home, without the "Trinitys" and "Walters" watching.. and waiting.

By the way, the #32 "Kellen" and "Kylie" are made up. The Windstar Van is made up. Even I know better than to print the ACTUAL minivan and the children's names and jersey numbers on a blog. But the vehicle does exist. Actually there are about three that I see everyday... license numbers in view as well as the prodigal children and their amazing extra curricular activites.

However, I wish "Walter" was a figment of our nightmares.

But he's out there.

So what does this all mean? I guess it's just my ranting and annoyance (remember, my blog, my opinion, you don't have to agree). But it would be nice to be able to teach our children that we love them, are proud of them, and what not without always having to have their name in print on the back of our 2002 Chevy Blazer. You can be a great athlete, captain of the cheer squad, and class president without always having the "printed notoriety".

After all, isn't that what teaching humility is all about?

A time for new beginnings, and all of that horseshit....

I feel jipped.

I mean, being a Buckeye gal born and raised, the one thing I can truly say that I love about livin in the midwest is that we get to experience all four seasons in their purest form. Granted the Spring and Fall can bring confusing times of "heat" in the car in the morning that turns to "AC" by quittin time, causing the sinuses to throw a coniption fit, but all in all, I've come to enjoy the fab four growin up in SW Ahia.

There's nuttin like that first "jacket weather" morning somewhere in late September that leads to the slight color changes in the trees- the smell of someone in the neighborhood hosting a bonfire (or committing arson, never quite sure), the sounds of NFL Sundays on the boob tube, and our local vendors selling pumpkins and haystacks. These all inevitably flow into putting the jacket away for your winter coat because Jamie Simpson on Newscenter 7 tells us that "we might see our first bout of that "white stuff" during the rush hour evening drive, so bundle up Miami Valley". We kick on the furnace, always to that initial smell of something burning in the ducts. The pumpkins, now rotted from sitting out on the lawn for 2 months, make way for anything made of pine. Little twinkling lights adorn most homes (unless you are one of our Jewish neighbors, then it's a blow up lawn Menora), and Lite 94.9 starts their 24 hours of Christmas music. Eventually, once we ring in the New Year, schools are inevitably delayed or closed from ice storms, Winter's fury. St. D and myself rev up the snowblower, and clear a small one foot path down the sidewalk and driveway. We go sledding in West Milton down the "sledding hill", and walk through the Englewood Reserve's natural "winter wonderland"; admiring the ice coated branches and veils of white that surround the trails.

By March, we are usually ready for the blanket to melt, and for a tinge of "jacket" weather to begin. By the beginning of Spring, it's a welcoming sound to hear birds chirping outside of our window, being able to open up the windows "a crack". By early April, the sight of the first daffodils blooming, that first scent of lawn chemicals polluting yards.... Lowes and Home Depot hit the airwaves reminding us to get our lawns ready for a busy summer, and by May, I'm ready to spend Abbey's college education fund on flowers and mulch... preparing ourselves for the hazy lazy days of Summer. Days become longer. The window air conditioner units are "in place", making Uncle Dayton Power and Light Co. "very happy".

But again, we were jipped.

I grew weary and tired of hearing folks chime "My GOD, I can't believe what WONDERFUL WEATHER we are having"!!! I would go out and stroke our snow blower, who by this time, started filling out paperwork for unemployment benefits. I found myself having to scramble to get my capris and summer clothes washed and ready- my pasty white girl legs, still realing from not seeing much "light" in the last few months, blinding me in the mirror.

But I did what I had to do. I tried to go out and walk, and enjoy the early Spring that God, the Devil, or Lex Luther managed to bestow upon us. A few days ago, I found myself walking around our neighborhood with our smiling pup, and got my first tinge of excitement when I began to smell beautiful spring flowers and bushes. As I smiled, the sun beaming down on my pasty pale face, I began digging the beautifully mild temperatures through the majesty of smell. Suddenly, I got a whiff of my dog's "shit" bag that we take along to pick up her crap, and it suddenly became an epiphany of my mood for again, being jipped outta my winter.


I truly did need an attitude adjustment. I mean it's no one's fault that I was jilted by Mother Nature, unless you wanna blame Al Gore and all of his "global warming" bullshit. (yea, let's just blame Al, just cus we can). I did our weekly grocery shopping with my Lil Abs at our local Walmart last night, and as I sweated profusely from the 82 degree evening, I began she and I's weekly ritual of grocery shopping. Her reminder to me that she is in need of a new bathing suit shifted me to the mindset of "JESUS... a BATHING SUIT! Isn't it only February?" But alas, again, I was snapped back to the reality that it was indeed March, and the first day of Spring. She picked out a very pretty purple bikini, reminding me too that my baby is 15, and yea, wearing (quite perfectly) a bikini.

Then it happened.

God was growing quite weary of my "mental bitching".

Truly a sign from above.

As swimsuit model Abbey and I got to the car, I began loading the back with the 514 plastic grocery sacks, I heard a commotion underneath a mini van parked a few spaces over.

It was a bird, in some sort of distress.

As I kept loading the family truckster up with our purchases, I began to have a feeling of dread. I absolutely HATE to hear anything in distress.. but ESPECIALLY an animal! I did a quick peek under the mini van, and it appeared that this little wren had a broken wing... now honestly I couldn't tell, but the poor little guy definitely was having a rough time. The squalking was unnerving, and I could feel a lump in my throat. I figured maybe that unfortunately when the mini van pulled into the parking space, maybe it clipped the birds wing? It's cries were deafening, and I found myself just wanting to get the car loaded and leave.

Suddenly, the calvary came... IN DROVES!

I couldn't help but watch it as it unfolded in front of me.

At least a dozen birds came swooping in from the sky, and surrounded the mini van. One little bird seemed to be talking to his distressed friend, quite the conversation it sounded. I began wondering what he was saying... "It's ok Paul... ITS OK!!!! We heard your cries and we are here buddy, hang in there!" Even as I walked by the mini van to put my empty cart back in the nearest "corral", the birds NEVER left.

I noticed on my way back over to my car, that SOMEHOW, the heroic friend was able to SCOOT the distressed bird out to the open lot... the distressed bird's cry now silent. Suddenly, without warning, BOTH birds spread their little bird wings and FLEW AWAY, followed by the entourage.

Now at this point, I had NOOOO idea what was initially "wrong" with the distressed little bird under the mini van- I must have been incorrect about it's wing since it managed to fly away. I wondered if maybe he had been stuck in something?

But what I did know is that I witnessed a beautiful occurance in nature. A band of tiny little warriors, hearing the sound of a fellow species in need, and came to the calling. I remember thinking initially that, even if this little distressed bird is dying, he wasn't going to die alone. He would have his posse there to guide him to the light. But the fact that somehow Baby Wren MD was schooled in the art of "wing" repair, what I thought would be a terrible end to my day turned out to be the awakening that I needed!

First day of Spring indeed! I'm suddenly enjoying the beauty that is the cherry blossom trees in my fair city. The smells of grass and flowers. The beautiful sights of young children riding their bikes and playing hopscotch in front of their homes.

Now watch it fucking snow.