when the past comes around...

met my old lover in the grocery store / the snow was falling Christmas eve
i stole behind her in the frozen foods / and i touched her on the sleeve

when i was in 9th grade, i fell in love/developed a crush/had it bad for a guy i had gone to school with since kindergarten.

it was bad.

the guy and i were friends. always had been. but it killed me when he would date my friends, leaving me alone on the sidelines with my secret crush.

ah, the stuff Hollywood romantic comedies are made of.

she didn't recognize my face at first / and then her eyes flew open wide
tried to hug me and she spilled her purse / and we laughed until we cried

we recently reconnected again, like so many of us are, via Facebook. we've texted back and forth, as is the custom of the day. he's married. kids. i'm married. no kids. two cats. 

he emailed a while back, to let me know he was changing jobs and would be out here in the Smogberry Trees for training. we need to get together for dinner and such.
bring la-la too, he said.

la-la is my code name for his old girlfriend, my friend in the day. suddenly, i was 15 again, with my feelers hurt. 'um, hello? what about me? am i so invisible to you that you can't see me standing here?'

went to have ourselves a drink or two / but couldn't find an open bar
we bought a six pack in a liquor store / and we drank it in her car

it's amazing that, no matter how we age, or how mature we are, or even whether we're married, single or other...that all it takes is one blast from the past, and we are immediately transported back to that age, that situation...that feeling that you had then.

the three of us sent emails and decided on a date for dinner. being that we're all Mexican food freaks (and that he, having lived WAY out from the Smogberry trees, does not have the best access to good Mexican food), decided as well on a place the Husband found with killer food and a open access refrigerator with beer. help yourself, be honest and tell your server how many you had.

the date approached when la-la came down with the flu...texting to say that we would need to reschedule for a different date when she felt better. i passed the message on to him, feeling that pit in my stomach. dang it, i was so looking forward to that night...to seeing him and to take that oh so fun trip to Yesterland. 

imagine my glee when he said he didn't want to cancel. he wanted to see me.

we drank a toast to innocence / we drank a toast to now
tried to reach beyond the emptiness / but neither one knew how

so the Husband and i met up with him  - and like the lyrics from this Dan Fogelberg song, it was was another auld lang syne. we're both the same...and we've both changed. time has worked it's evil magic.

we've lost parents. loved ones. had heartbreaks. job change & loss. and while time for us has stopped from where we last saw each other, it has marched on and left its scars.

we laughed - all three of us. the Husband has things in common with him...they talked. i would look at him and think that his eyes were still as blue as i remembered. he talked quieter than i remembered. i could still make him laugh...hard.

we drank a toast to innocence / we drank a toast to time
we're living in our eloquence / another auld lang syne

dinner was long...we ate slow (for a change), talked, talked, and in between beers, talked.
i found out about his kids. talked about the high school reunion we had last year. he talked about how he didn't have many friends in high school.

i didn't realize that. i seemed to be the social butterfly, flittering between different friends that brought different colors to my page. i, in my cocoon of innocence (read naivete) just assumed he did the same.

youth can be oh so self centered.

although i didn't share with him, i remembered a time where he & i went to a ball game and we cuddled and semi-made out in the back of the bus. i thought it was a turning point. apparently it wasn't, but i wondered if he remembered or thought about it.


i was sure he didn't hold it in a gossamer-lined box in his heart for a good part of his adolescence like i had.

we finished dinner, paid the bill and walked outside, still talking. he said the next two Thursdays would work for a rematch of dinner...hopefully with la-la this time. my 15 year old heart soared and then plummeted. but i looked at him, and at my Husband and realized that a) he wanted to see me even without la-la and b) despite issues every marriage has, that i got to go home with my Husband and not be hundreds of miles away from a family i missed.

we hugged. and kissed. my 15 year old self was happy. my 48 year old self was happy as well. happy to reconnect. happy to be where i am in my life. happy to be the Husband's wife.
happy. and still a little bit of 15 again.

the beer was empty and our tongues were tired / running out of things to say

just for a moment i was back in school / and felt that old familiar pain
and as i turned to make my way back home / the snow turned into rain

'Same Auld Lang Syne' - lyrics Dan Fogelberg

happy birthday.

this was originally for Mother's Day last year. today, however, is my mom's birthday, so i thought it was apropos to rerun. especially since she's fond of reminding me that on her 21st birthday she was in labor and got jello with a candle in it.

happy birthday, momma.


She came to California to escape.
She came with dreams, most of them broken and a heavy heart...also broken.
She came looking for a new start.

She came expecting her first child.

As the car widened the distance from the past to the future, her memory was still at home, reliving everything from the past few months. She was in love. She thought he loved her. She imagined them setting up the American Dream: 2.5 kids, white picket fence, dog in the front yard.

But what she got instead was rejection from him.

So she went to his parents. Surely they, of all people, would help. They knew her. They loved her. They said so, and how glad they were that their son had this calming influence in his life. But all she got instead was rejection from them.

How do we know it's really his? You could be doing this to trap him into a future that's not his. He's not a child. He's 21. This is his child. The conversations kept looping like annoying muzak in her brain as they drove. California would be the answer. She & her mother and this unborn child would make a new life. A fresh start. She would find a love that would embrace both herself and this child. No rejection. No judgemental eyes. Only love and a bright future.

Months raced by as she prepared for the New Arrival. Cute clothes to be purchased. Toys. A baby's room to be decorated. Yet all the time, in the back of her mind, that loop of rejection kept playing. This should be us, she thought. Not my mother and i. This should be a mother and a father planning this together.

Occasionally, she would imagine that he would come looking for her, like she used to dream as a child that her father (who left when she was three) would come back for her and her mother. That would never happen, either.

The baby was born the day after her 21st birthday. A 21st birthday should be spent celebrating, but instead she got jello and split pea soup with a candle. Instead, she spent hours birthing a breech baby who, to make things more difficult, came out with the cord wrapped around her neck.
A girl.
A girl who looked like him. Like the man who rejected her. As the baby grew, she had no time to think of the past, as she did before. Occasionally, she would fall into the trap of What Could Have Been, but would stop, look at this baby, and remember that it's your past that shapes you, but your future is what you make of it.

She came to start a new life. Both for herself and the baby girl who writes this today.

I say she did a bang up job.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. i love you.

hey now.

first off....let's just say to Tug- i have nothing against Johnny Depp. he's cool.

i just don't know if i could spent oodles of time with him. he's so.....deep sometimes, i don't think he'd be even slightly interested in talking to me. not that i'm so egotistical to think that anyone else on my short list is chomping at the bit to hang with me.

i'm sure Alton is dying to talk cooking and scrapbooking and photography with me.

and yes. Matthew needs a shower.

i scrapped Saturday. for me.

i know. calm yourselves. i've been working on an album for a chickie i work with. she and her family is planning a surprise 70th bday party for their mom, and part of it involves a scrapbook of her mom.

those of you that scrap, you know the importance of good photos. they don't have to be Ansel Adams good, but good enough to look good.

they probably shouldn't be copies of copies. that would be bad.

yep. it kills me to put some of those in there. one of them had that texture pattern on it. remember that from the 70s? well, make a copy of that, then make another copy of the copy and you've got something completely gross.

it goes against everything we go with as scrapbookers. and, with my ego in play, there's also the fact that i know her mom is pretty dang critical. (almost as critical as her daughter)

she is gonna bitch about it.

the good thing is, i ain't gonna be there to hear.

goooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, me!

so back to yesterday...i decided to do something for me. for the first time this year.

i made two birthday cards and three layouts. and thanks to Maureen for allowing me to publish two of the three (sorry honey, i forgot to take a picture of the other layout. i'll do that tonight and send it to you).

these layouts were made with animal testing...Elvis kept jumping up on the table. at one point, he got a rub-on stuck to his paw and flicked it off before i could grab it.

i still don't know where it landed.

and the journaling:

holy freaking Batzoids. i love this photo.

sorry. not the best shot ever.

happy Monday.

that was the year that was.

365 days.
12 months.
52 weeks.

it was a year of unexpected delights, of new jobs, of laughter, evilness and silliness.

a year of meeting new friends online. of sharing your joys, fears, terrors and tears.

i cried with you when the tests came back negative. prayed for you when your parents/children were suddenly, unexpectedly hospitalized.

we shared more this year, than i think i've shared with my 'real life' friends.

this was a year of endings. of beginnings. of boredom. of thrills.

a year of weight gain. and for many of you, weight loss (you GO, girl!).

a year that brought us something as horrific as kids being shot in West Virginia.
and as laughable as this. or, God help us, this.

a year that ended with no new TV shows. once again, writers rock.

a year that involved being lied to about my best friend having a diabetic episode to get me out to my own surprise birthday party and also involved going to Whittier for Mexican food. (i know. i plan on letting this go soon. just not yet.)

i'm blessed because i'm ending the year with every member of my family still here. and i'm also ending it with the same ol' Husband i started the year with.

a new year is always looked at as a new beginning. a chance to start again and to make resolutions. but the cool thing is, every day we are allowed to live is a chance for a new beginning.

that is the coolest thing of all. no need to wait until December 31st to make changes. changes can begin right now. no waiting till midnight. no waiting period.

and i cannot think of better people to share it with. Happy New Year.

Broken Roads and Broken Hearts.

She came to California to escape. She came with dreams, most of them broken and a heavy heart...also broken.

She came looking for a new start.

She came expecting her first child.

As the car widened the distance from the past to the future, her memory was still at home, reliving everything from the past few months.

She was in love. She thought he loved her. She imagined them setting up the American Dream: 2.5 kids, white picket fence, dog in the front yard.
But what she got instead was rejection from him.

So she went to his parents. Surely they, of all people, would help. They knew her. They loved her. They said so, and how glad they were that their son had this calming influence in his life.

But all she got instead was rejection from them.

How do we know it's really his?
You could be doing this to trap him into a future that's not his.

He's not a child. He's 21. This is his child.

The conversations kept looping like annoying muzak in her brain as they drove.
California would be the answer. She & her mother and this unborn child would make a new life. A fresh start. She would find a love that would embrace both herself and this child.

No rejection. No judgemental eyes. Only love and a bright future.

Months raced by as she prepared for the New Arrival. Cute clothes to be purchased. Toys. A baby's room to be decorated. Yet all the time, in the back of her mind, that loop of rejection kept playing. This should be us. Not my mother and i. This should be a mother and a father planning this together.

Occasionally, she would imagine that he would come looking for her, like she used to dream as a child that her father (who left when she was three) would come back for her and her mother.

That would never happen.

The baby was born the day after her 21st birthday. A 21st birthday should be spent celebrating, but instead she got jello and split pea soup with a candle. Instead, she spent hours birthing a breech baby who, to make things more difficult, came out with the cord wrapped around her neck.

A girl. A girl who looked like him. Like the man who rejected her.

As the baby grew, she had no time to think of the past, as she did before. Occasionally, she would fall into the trap of What Could Have Been, but would stop, look at this baby, and remember that it's your past that shapes you, but your future is what you make of it.

She came to start a new life. Both for herself and the baby girl who writes this today.
I say she did a bang up job.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. i love you.

happy, happy, joy, joy!

as the blog par-tay continues, the management here at [random thoughts] just wanted to take a moment to tell you (in case you care) about what's making me oh, so happy today.

• i have the house to mahself. can i get an amen? Husband is off to a car parts/accessories/cars for sale swap meet in Pomona. good time for him to do some male bonding and then off to work for an hour or so.
• it is 9:52 PST. i have been up since 5. (this is the good part, not what time i got up) in this time i have shopped, laundered, shopped some more. currently my furbaby is marking a hand truck i used to help BadBackGirl carry all this crap i bought and laundered into my abode.
• my new, glorious Target has a Starbucks in it. Starbucks. gadzooks, if they'd only add a Krispy Kreme, the circle of life would be complete for me.
• did i mention the house all to myself? i did? dang.
• Batman Begins is ready to go on the DVD. if i haven't mentioned, i am a card-carrying sucker for any and all comic book movies. this one is no exception. and Christian Bale? daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang.
• today is the L.A. Marathon. i am NOT running it.
• it's windy. March is in like a lion, and if i'da thought about it at the little slice of heaven called Target, i coulda bought a kite. then we could have some fun.

much to be happy about. what about you?

and while you're at it...a prayer or two for a friend of mine who had a little surgery recently. apparently she doesn't like the vicadin. whatever. i still like her.

may your day be as happy as mine.

Fantasy vs. Reality: Final Score

i have a terrific fantasy life.
unfortunately, it constantly encroaches on my so-called real life.
dagnabbit.

being an only child, growing up in a neighborhood with much older kids, i had a wonderful time playing with my dolls, Barbies, etc. i made up stories, long, elaborate princess-kidnapped-by-ogres stories. but only if no one was around, because i also did all the voices for the dolls.

one of my favorite dolls was a HUGE doll named Sarah. Sarah and i had many things in common: same short pageboy cut, blue eyes, kinda chunky. but most importantly, Sarah was real. and woe be unto anyone who tried to talk me out of it.

then one Sunday, reality smashed my fantasy right in the face.

growing up, my church had a "March to Sunday School in March" promotion. for every friend you, as a kid, bring to Sunday School, you got points or a toy or something. but, since every kid i knew already went to church, i never had much luck with bringing anyone. until i remembered Sarah.

i could bring Sarah to church! she was real. she was my friend.
unfortunately the people at church didn't see it the same way i did.

needless to say, i was highly offended.
it was then i made a vow to never, ever grow up. or, if i had to, then i would do everything in my power to remember what's reality for adults, ain't the same for kids.

• kids believe. they believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, that monsters are in the closet and vampires are under the bed (and to this day, if my arm slides off the edge of the mattress, i wake up enough to reel it back in. that way, the vampire can't grab my arm and pull me under the bed).
• they believe that toys have a party once kids (or adults) leave any room they're in.
• they believe that knock-knock jokes are hysterical.
• that stepping on a crack really can break your momma's back.
• that farting is the funniest.thing.evah.
• that a kiss will heal any boo-boo.
• that Mom & Dad can fix anything.
• and that "Where the Wild Things Are" is the the "War & Peace" of my generation.
• that Marathon candy was the best candy bar ever, that NO ONE, not the Colonel, not Mrs. Knott's, not anyone could fry chicken like my auntie.
• and nothing was better than getting a real, genuine Valerie doll for your birthday.

and i still believe.

once again, concrete evidence that i may be months away from turning 45, but i am not a grown-up. i don't ever want to grow up.

and that, Gentle Reader, is the final score. fantasy wins.

a first, kids...

this is the first layout i've done in a year.

seriously, a year.

not that i haven't done anything crafty, but not scrapbook pages.

it was for the CK Random Layout Challenge contest held this week, which i didn't win. which also isn't a big thing. i've come to the realization that my style and CK's style are two different things.

and i'm OK with that. i like what i do.

Christmas 2006

so here it is...my Christmas in a nutshell.

Sleeping on Christmas eve...waiting for Santa.
Bouncing on a moon bounce.
Discovering the joys of Dora's Talking House.
Being a little overwhelmed at all the gifts Santa left, but also convinced it was because we left a special Santa key outside for Santa to get in the house (since their house doesn't have a chimney).
Merry & Bright, indeed.

recap

final score: kids: 1,000 presents. adults: a bazillion dollars in debt.

just kidding.

by all accounts, Christmas was low key. the kids got some big presents, but there were only a few of 'em, so it all worked out. the Nephew ended up getting sick with a bit of a fever, and of course, since we were paying attention to him, the Niece wanted a piece of the action attention-wise as well.

too much fun.

the kids bounced on Moon Bounces from Santa (remember them? back in my day, we called 'em Hippity Hops). we fed Baby Alive (consider me officially freaked out by this doll. i had one, too when i was a kid, but it didn't look this weird. reminded me of an old Twilight Zone episode when a girl's doll came to life, but only to the father: "i'm Talking Tina and i'm going to kill you."

good times.

and as soon as Blogger gets over its PMS, i will be able to post photos. right now, i'm off for a peppermint mocha frappachino with the Husband.

life is good. and i'm ready for the New Year.