Rapier's Wit

Meet You At The Moon - Imelda ... Color me shmoopy. Say I'm hypnotized by the glorious full moon. This song just popped up on my playlist. It's as lovely as the moonlit night.

This has been melodically looping in my head since early this morning.  I finally had to listen to it. I think it shall be my new ringtone.  2010 (twenty-ten? two thousand ten?) will be a year of positivity and good vibes, my friends. This should start it off quite nicely. " How can I tell you about my loved one ?"

It's officially New Year's Eve '09. Currently, I am overcome with a fit of the weepies.  Waking at 4:00 AM might have something to do with it. Sleep deprivation seems like a good source of blame. But that's not why I feel overwhelmed with the power of emotion.  My heart and soul are whirling in a cacophony of feelings. All of this was set forth after a morning of volleying emails with that friend I've reconnected with after years of wondering how he has been since graduation.  For that alone I am glad I couldn't sleep in this morning. While I am looking forward to what 2010 will bring, I am riddled with anxiety to bid 2009 farewell.  That's not to say '09 has been nothing but a big party.  This year has been a psychosensory roller coaster.  But on that ride of twists and turns there has been tremendous personal growth.  I think this has been my best year ever in that regard. That is not to say '09 hasn't been difficult.  Two close friends hav...

The new year is quickly approaching. In fact, it's so close I can hear the clicking of its stiletto heels on the pavement. New Year's Eve is very much like a Hollywood starlet with all the glitz and glamour of a red carpet event.  In she strolls and all the attention is on her.  So much is expected from this beauty.  Then, at least for me, reality strikes when she opens her mouth ... all the build up was for naught. She's just another girl wearing a form fitting designer gown on loan from Valentino and borrowed jewels from Harry Winston. Stripped down and without all the hype, we realize it's just the turning of a page on the calendar.  Well, that and we have to get accustomed to writing another date on checks. I do not fancy New Year's Eve.  There. I said it. Call me envious or jaded.  It's rare if ever that I have plans to celebrate the new year.  In this decade there has been only one occasion that I wasn't at home with my son.  It was 2001. ...

It's Sunday.  Oh how I love this day of rest ... wait a minute! I don't get to rest today. The work schedule demands that I be there. The after glow of Christmas day remains.  It was filled with surprises for Mancub and me.  Christmas eventually proves to be a special time of year once you cut through the layers of impatient shoppers, shifting of funds and frustration of not being able to find the perfect gift for someone on your list.  Mancub wanted me to make it clear that he didn't completely say the word crap in his excitement over the Wii. " I stopped myself mom. " To him, it's a swear word even though it's commonly thrown around (even by yours truly). He didn't want it on record that he sounds like a degenerate. As if! The warm embrace of the words written in the book I received for Christmas continues to envelope me like a warm bubble bath ... .... I hope it can keep me warm as I step into the 16° temps to make my way to work today.

So, those are not the most eloquent words ever exclaimed on Christmas morning, but it was a sentiment of true surprise. My son had no idea what he was getting today. He's fully aware of the challenges I meet each month financially. He's never been a gimme gimme kid. He's joyful no matter the gift. I gave him games to go with the Wii before he unwrapped the console. I feigned surprise that I grabbed the wrong game system versions." Oh, poo! Well, you can exchange them for PS2." His reply was not surprising, "Well, my cousins have Wii systems. Maybe they'd like them as gifts." It was then when I got up and reached behind the couch to reveal yet another gift. He noticed how heavy it was when I sat it on his lap. He screwed up his face in wonder. Here's the result: Additionally, Mancub is the proud owner of a Trek bike. Santa has some amazing elves, let me tell you. I prefer to call them Heaven's angels on Earth. This spring I hope to...

Merry Christmas.  Go grab a cup of cheer, sit back and listen to me babble on video. As usual, I had nothing planned beyond my bedazzled attire.  May this not bring you nightmares of gorged sugar plum zombies.  I'll try to be funnier next year.

I'm feeling anxious and full of angst.  My pulse is racing but not in an excited, joyful manner.  I'm pretty sure it's not a rush of caffeine. I had less than usual. Maybe it's just residual spazattack from yesterday's onslaught of visually impaired people requiring new spectacles two days before Christmas. Perhaps it's concern over the weather (ice storm and flooding) potentially preventing Mancub and I traveling on Christmas day.  Possibly -- most likely -- it's caused from not being able to afford gifts for my family members.  Normally I would overextend my checking account just to save the embarrassment of admitting I don't have money to make purchases for anyone other than my son.  With the cutbacks at work, that was hardly manageable and I thank God for the angels in my life. This year I baked.  As I said in an earlier post celebrating our cookie creations, I've never made sugar cookies from scratch.  We baked a fresh batch and colorfully de...

This song was part of a program encouraging adoption. "A Home for the Holidays" was a presentation lead by Faith Hill to honor The Dave Thomas Foundation . When the singer/songwriter Michael Franti told his own story about being adopted, it brought a flutter to my heart. Then, as he sang this beautiful song there were snippets of children awaiting adoption ... children who've been in over five homes in a year's time. That's when the tears really began to flow. The lyrics of this song are simple; yet, they speak volumes. He's managed to put to verse what I feel in my heart about close friendships that simply cannot be defined or labeled. Merry Christmas.

Both of my parents instilled in me the belief in miracles and angels.  My mother was more likely to tell me a story about a harrowing event in her life where her guardian angel protected her from harm. My father, on the other hand, was more philosophical in his telling of incidents that solidified his belief in a higher being.  Our family was loosely Catholic. Read: Lots of the guilt inducing practices and none of the church-going, sacramental requirements.  Regardless of the methods and theories taught, we were a spiritual clan with the ability to find reason and cause to why we were fortunate in the face of often dismal times. I recall as a little girl my mother telling me to always listen to the little voices in my head because that was my guardian angel giving me direction. "She knows better than you do. So don't ignore her."  In my child-like mind's eye, angels have always been filmy, beautiful, ethereal beings with wings and halos.  That is, after all, ...

I pray that PETM (People for the Ethical Treatment of Muppets) doesn't come hunting for me.  I'm convinced that one -- or four -- of Jim Henson's creations was killed to make my warm, cozy, very pink house socks (that's what the tag read -- house socks).  Is it possible that a cute and delightful entertainer of children was sacrificed for the comfort of my tootsies? Perhaps a kinfolk to Elmo?

A couple of weeks ago the temperatures here took a swift dip into the danger zone. Like it is often, the wind chill factor was the real culprit.  Gusts up to 50 mph hour were predicted. Business at the work place was dreadfully slow.  So slow that my presence was not required.  Suddenly I had a free day and the baking bug bit me.  Beyond boxed brownies and a bi-yearly batch of Toll House Cookies, this girl doesn't bake.  My kitchen is lucky if it ever sees a spatter of olive oil. I cook out of necessity. But holiday baking? Get out of the city! I bundled myself up and head out into the blustery, frigid day.  My intention was to buy the pre-fab sugar cookie dough in the tube, but as I made my way through the store I had collected ingredients to bake from scratch.  I felt my head for fever. Then, I thought perhaps all of this was a dream and I'd awaken in my warm cozy bed.  Upon departing the store it was obvious that I was wide awake because the ...

This hardly takes any time to do and it might mean the world to the recipient.

Sue Ellen practiced in the mirror for months prior to her Senior photo shoot. I think she nailed it. Work it, super girl! photo found on http://www.pizzacomedy.com/

It's Sunday morning and all I hear is the hum of the furnace. When I awoke before 6 AM, I got my coffee brewing and crawled back into bed. A half hour later it was apparent that dozing off wasn't going to happen.  Once my brain is alerted that it's a new day it just won't shut off.  By nature I am not a list maker, but jotting mental notes is not unheard of. The bad thing about that is the task needs to be committed right away or it will be forgotten.  Tiny Post-It Notes line my computer monitor. Sometimes the notations actually make enough sense to jar my memory.  One of them says "new coffee pot."  The current model makes the java juice OK, but it leaks all over the counter.  I have an incontinent coffee maker.  Bounty Paper Towels to the rescue.  While laying in bed, the thought occurred to me to price Keurigs .  I know they are pricey, but a girl can dream.  This line of thinking drove me to daydream about other small appliances t...

Twenty-six and a half or so years ago I stood alone on a stage wearing a lovely costume while a spotlight shone upon me. My character, Helen, had finally come to grips with the fact that the subject of her affections would never be hers to have and to hold.  She gracefully accepts her fate and with morose resolve sings : I have wished before, I will wish no more. Love, look away! Love, look away from me. Fly, when you pass my door, Fly and get lost at sea. Call it a day. Love, let us say we're through. No good are you for me, No good am I for you. Wanting you so, I try too much. After you go, I cry too much. Love, look away. Lonely though I may be, Leave me and set me free, Look away, look away, look away... from... me. There's no psychotic outburst that one might see portrayed today.   Helen, dejected, walks away with only the memory of hope ... her head held high. Little did I realize when I was cast in that role that my own life would lead a ...

If good parenting was judged by the number of photos of my child scattered about the home, I would be one giant failure.  Oh, it's not that I don't have pictures of my son.  I have tons of them ... in a big box in the closet.  There's a most recent photo of him that sits on my bookshelf.  There are always promises made to myself that I'll get photo albums and frames, but that's yet to happen.  One day ... What brought this line of thinking about was my scrounging through the big box of photos this morning. With Christmas staring me in the face, I remembered the cutest pictures taken of Mancub when he was 5 years old. A photography studio was called upon at his pre-k to take memorable Christmas photos.  Seeing them always brings forth a giant puddle of tears.  Where has that little boy gone? Imagine Chevy Chase as Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation when he's holed up in the attic ... blubbering like a fool as he views a movie from his childhood....

Fun Slides Carpet Skates : Make sure your insurance is paid up and get your stories straight before taking the kids to the emergency room. I'm sure my brother would just love if I sent his 3 boys each a pair of these to use in the same room the HDTV is housed. HD Vision Night Wraparounds This item is perfect for the guy who buys the sports car when he's in denial of his mid-life crisis. All the young babes will be salivating when he walks through the doors of the club wearing these over his no-line bifocal specs. Nothing says "I'll be your sugar daddy" like these urine colored lenses. Lens Doctor DO NOT USE THIS CRAP! I cannot stress this enough. You might as well throw the $14.95 it costs directly into a shredder. Your lenses will be ruined and then you'll come to me at my place of business frustrated that I can't remove the dried goop on the lenses that causes you severely blurred vision. S'Mores Maker Really? Are you that much of a d...

Last year I didn't even bother putting up a Christmas tree.  The year prior, kitties decided that knocking ornaments off and destroying them was a far better idea than just admiring them as they dangled from the twinkling branches.  With twenty more days before the mythical fat-man descends from his toy shop in the frozen tundra of the North Pole, I figured my weekend off could be spent trying to turn our domicile into a place of festive lights and adornment.  The tree will likely be left out another year.  Our cats may be older, but they are still creatures of nature with an inclination to climb and toy with anything that wiggles. So, with Mancub's small collection of nutcrackers displayed, I think we can make a go of putting forth the image that the Christmas spirit is alive and well at Casa Marissa. I'll string lights where the cats can't bother them, as well as, garland around the tops of the windows.  Majestic? Not hardly. I know for certain that my on...

A moment is all it takes . This is not a new concept, but it's something requiring self reminding.  In the blink of an eye tragedy can strike. That's the way of the world.  When that happens we often reflect upon the importance of the people in our lives. A life altering incident causes our lifetimes to flash before our eyes as we grasp for something positive.  Such a situation didn't happen.  This isn't a cause for concern out of the norm.  I apologize if this initially heightened your worry censors. I'm fine. Mancub is doubly fine.  The moment in time that is the subject is the good moments.  We all (hopefully) have those seconds in the day that manage to put a beautiful spin on what seems to have been filled with sighs of mundane. Earlier this morning I took a silly Facebook quiz to determine my real age.  Biologically I'm 44.  I have no qualms about aging, but it was something fun to do that my life long friend had already participated...