I CAN COUNT ON YOU LIKE FOUR, THREE, TWO

 

Every year when February rolls around, I want to crawl into bed and not stick my nose out from under the covers until March 1st.  Just like Punxsutawny Phil…..only different.  My beloved Lucy passed away eight years ago in February and since then the second month of the year has become my most dreaded time.  History has proven it is a sucky month to be sure.  After Lucy died, all sorts of mayhem has fallen upon us in February.   My apologies to those of you who have birthdays or anniversaries in this month.  You may have some special affection for the month of FebI’MGONNAKICKYOURARSEruary but as for me, I would totally vote to take it right off the calendar.   I mean, who needs the confusion anyway?  28 days?  29?”  Who can keep track?

And the weather!  Enough winter already!  OK, you’ve got me there.  February is quite beautiful for the most part in Florida.  It is usually sunny and about 72f.  Who can complain about that? But still….even so, I detest the month and all of the crap-storm it brings with it.

That is until this year…………

This year, I got smart.  About mid-January, I started feeling anxiety about the days to come.  Those January days just kept ticking by on the calendar and impending doom was weighing heavily on my shoulders.  I wasn’t sleeping well.  I was cranky.  No amount of chocolate chip cookies (read dough) or Cabernet Sauvignon was sufficient to quell the storm that was brewing in my heart. 

I began to joke about running away from home.  Getting on the Florida turnpike and just driving until I ran out of gas, money and SweeTarts.  I mentioned this several times to a good friend of mine who shall remain nameless but you may know her as Midlife Slices.   Well, MLS, being MLS, did what MLS does so graciously, she extended an invitation to me to stay at her home and refresh my spirit.  Or maybe I invited myself……..I’m not really sure at this point…..but that is neither here not there, right?  Plane tickets were purchased, plans were made and Feb.1st found me on a plane to Texas. 

MLS and her Hunk a Burnin’ Love, aka HBL, greeted me with open arms at the airport and whisked me off to their home.  One might ask if I was a little worried about traveling to a complete stranger’s home and relying entirely on them for transportation (read no escape route).  Well, to tell the truth, MLS IS strange but she is no stranger to me.  We met several years ago right here in these pages and a beautiful albeit warped friendship (Love ya, MLS) has developed from there.  And was I a little nervous about climbing into their SUV after seeing HBL open the back to load my luggage and spotting duct tape and blankets wadded up in the cargo hold? Not one bit.  Did I feel any apprehension while riding in the dark in a place completely foreign to me as they drove me out into the middle of nowhere.  Actually, no, I didn’t. OK, I may or may not have checked my iphone no less than a dozen times to make sure of a signal. 

OK, the real truth is that MLS and I actually met in person almost a year ago when after complaining about needing a getaway, a girls weekend was planned and executed with two other “perfect strangers”, known here in the interwebs as Fat Cat Crochet and Nothing Fancy.  I was in blog darkness then and have yet to write about that escapade but just you wait……I will write about it……as soon as I can remember the details. 

MLS and HBL welcomed me into their home and treated me like ……well….like the Queen that I am.  *snort*   They wined me and dined me.  They soaked me (in a hottub) and choked me (with jalapeno chips).  They booted me (cowboy, of course) and suited me (off to cowboy church).  They cowed me and WOWed me at the rodeo!  I even got manure on my pants!  Now I’ve run out of rhymes but let it suffice to say that I had a darn good time and my spirit WAS refreshed.  I left Texas with my soul at peace and with a newfound love for all things of the Lonestar state.  Hot sauce! Steak!  Caramel Pecan chewy things that are to die for!  Cowboy hats!  Cowboy boots!  Beer served while you are shopping!  Cowboy church!  MLS!  HBL! 

Words cannot express my gratitude for the friendship and hospitality of MLS and HBL.  And I can’t say enough how blessed I am to have met such wonderful friends here in bloggyland.  My dear peeps, if you ever have the chance to meet and greet with a friend with whom you’ve connected here in the interwebs, don’t walk, RUN, straight to the nearest Starbucks (but take a bodyguard….one has to be careful) and share a cup of Joe with them.  And if they are normal like you…….or abnormal as was the case with MLS and me, invite them into your home,  You won’t regret it.  Well, MLS might but that’s a different story. 

Thank you, MLS!  I love you like my luggage……even more.  LIKE YOUR LUGGAGE! 

 

And when I got home……you’ll never guess what was waiting in my drive…….

 

To be continued.  

 

Hugs and Kisses,

SMB

 

 

I HAVE A DREAM

February, true to form, has been rearing its ugly head and showing us just how incredibly stinky it can be.  Let it be said, here and now:  FEBRUARY SUCKS!

I usually like to keep this blog full of rainbows and sunshine, puffy hearts and glitter, flowers and big smiley faces.  You get the idea.  I’m not a stranger to a good rant now and again but for the most part, I like to forget keeping it real and instead keep it hopeful in these pages.  But not today.  Sorry, peeps but I can’t let this one go by without screaming at the top of my lungs, shaking my fists and shooting something.  Now where’s my gun?  Somebody get my gun.

Daddy and I flew to Indiana for an unscheduled trip last weekend.  His best friend since grade school passed away after a long illness.   Maintaining a friendship for a lifetime is so rare these days.  It says a lot to me about both men that they’ve managed to remain a part of each other’s lives despite life and all its busy nonsense.  I have known this wonderful man and his family all my life.  He was the father of seven children.  His older children were my babysitters when our parents went out and I grew up with the younger kids.  They were there with us when my mother died and I was honored to be there with them in their time of grief.

Some might say that his passing was a blessing in light of his suffering.  And that may be so but February in all its SUCKINESS stepped in like only February can.  You see this family was still reeling from the tragic loss of his 17 year old grandson only 8 days before his death.  A grandson, a son, a brother, a friend to many, a Senior in high school, an athlete, by all accounts a great kid: Gone in the blink of an eye.

This family had a funeral for a family member 3 out of  4 Saturdays in February.  (An aunt had died the week prior.)  They always say that God never gives you more than you can handle.  This may be true but do we really have to be tested like this?  When I get to Heaven (and I know I’m going coz I’m so pure of heart and all), I’m going to have a lot of questions for the BIG GUY upstairs.  I just can’t wrap my head around this.

If you are new here, let me recap the crap that February has dumped on us in the past.

2004:

• My mother died
• My husband’s grandmother died 4 days later.
• My husband had emergency surgery between the two funerals 1200 miles from home.
• Upon our return home from the funerals, MHS wrecked his truck.  Thankfully, February cut us some slack and no one was injured.

And these were just the worst of it.  Every February since then has sucked.  And this year has been no exception.  (See above)

So here’s what I’m proposing:

Let’s change to an eleven month year and just move right from January to March.  Sure, there are those of you who have birthdays in February.  No worries, we’ll just move your birthday to that same day in March.  There are all sorts of bonuses to my plan.  We will no longer have to deal with leap year and all its confusion.  No more stress about a relationship status-appropriate gift for Valentine’s Day.   No worries about spending the big V Day alone. No more doghouse for forgetful husbands.  No more of those stupid, chalky hearts that say cutesy little sentiments.  (I might miss those)  We can eat chocolate in March.  Oh and let’s not forget that February tends to dump a lot of snow up North just about the time they are sick and tired of winter and its stinkiness.  The advantages are endless, I tell ya.

So peeps, are ya with me? Can we get this movement started?  Who do I call?  Should we start with the US?  North America?  I say, “GO BIG OR GO HOME!”  Let’s change the world.  We can do it.  YES.WE.CAN! 

Now just sign on this dotted line:

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LUCY: THE CLEVEREST OF THEM ALL

Every year when February is finally over, I swear that the next time it rolls around that I will crawl into bed, cover my head and stay there until March 1st.  But I don’t.  As the rest of the year rolls on, the memory of February’s pain and general stinkiness wanes and when it does arrive the next year………I am taken by surprise and caught in its clutches again.  It just kinda sneaks up on me.  February is a very sneaky month.

Tomorrow marks the sixth anniversary of the day my mother, Lucy, died.  It doesn’t seem possible.  She is still, and I guess always will be, a very real presence in my life.  As much as I loved her, I never imagined that I could miss her this much.  It’s the little things that find me in a puddle.  And it’s the little things that make me smile and remember with warm, wet tears streaming down my face that my family was blessed with an extraordinary gift from God.  She taught us well, kept us in check, and straightened us out when we found ourselves on a crooked path.

Thanks, Lucy!  You were the BEST!

To help me wipe away the moisture leaking from my eyes as I write this, I thought I would bring you another Lucy story.  My previous Lucy stories showed you her wit but Lucy was smart too.  Clever, clever, clever.  Allow me to demonstrate:

The following story was told to me by my mother’s dear friend on the day of Lucy’s memorial service in Indiana. 

When my parents first retired, they bought a place in Florida and would spend the winters in the land of the sunshine and their summers in Indiana.  The best of both worlds, right?  Turns out…..not so much.  You see, when you neglect a property for six months of the year, it takes the next six months  to get it back up to par.  Retirement was hard work and they realized they were “doing it wrong”.   And so they decided to take the leap.  They would sell the house in Indiana and make their permanent residence in the sunshine state.
This created a whole new problem.  Even with two households, storage was a problem for my packrat mother.  My father put his foot down and insisted that she downsize their “stuff”.  Everyone accumulates stuff over the years but my mother was a master in this field.  The woman had STUFF.
 
Knowing that the task at hand was larger than herself, she gathered her friends together to help her.  As she sorted things, she would tell this one to “put this in that pile.”  She would tell another friend “to put this in that pile.”  And so it went.  She threw out a lot. She gave away a lot.  But slowly her friends realized that she was still keeping way more than what my father was allowing.  “Lucy, he’s never going to let you take all this stuff to Florida.”  She told them, “Never mind about that, just box up that pile over there.” 

And so it continued.  For days, my mother and her friends would sort through her belongings.  Each time someone would gently remind her that she was supposed to be downsizing, she would wave them away saying, “Don’t worry about that.  Just box up that pile over there for me.” 

When the very last box was sealed, she piled the ones that would go to Florida in one corner and then she looked at her friend, who I will call Hellen……because that is her name, and said, “Hellen, you take the rest of the boxes to your house and put them in your barn.  I have a plan.”

Now when you’re from Indiana and you move to Florida, people will come.  “People will come, Ray.  People will most certainly come.”  (Movie, anyone???)  And people did come.  Among the friends and family members who came to visit every year was Hellen and her family. 

Activate “Operation: I GET TO KEEP MY STUFF AND HE WILL NEVER BE THE WISER

Each time my mother heard that Hellen and her family were coming to Florida, she would instruct Hellen which box to collect from her barn and bring to Florida.  One by one, visit by visit, my mother had every single one of those boxes delivered to her and Daddy never knew a thing.  That is until the day of the memorial service when Hellen shared the story with us.  I love this story.  I love it for so many reasons.  I love how it shows just how truly clever Lucy was.  I love the covertness of it all.  And I really love Hellen for giving it to us when we needed it the most.  It gave a smile and a warm memory to comfort me when I’m feeling blue like I am today.

Thanks, Hellen. 

I love you, Mom.  I miss you more everyday.

Dear readers, if you are still here, thank you for sharing this memory with me as I work through my feelings and therapize myself.  And I do feel better now, thank you very much.

If you would like to read more Lucy stories, just type Lucy in that little search widget in the top left corner of this page.  I’m too lazy to link them all.

Patrick has a new update on the Hope for Haiti blog.  Click here to read.

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad