Rapier's Wit

It is FINALS week at my son's university, much like the majority of colleges around the country. He has always put forth a lot of effort to achieve good grades. There are times, despite his studying and perfect attendance, the good grades do not materialize.  As a parent, I try to encourage him without nagging. He resides with me. I see him studying. He stays up late working on essays, homework, etc... I pray a lot for his success.  Today happens to be my mother's birthday. She died from ovarian cancer in June of 1981. It doesn't matter how many years pass, I miss her. There are times it is even more painful. She loved to sing. Her passion for music has always been evident in my family. On Facebook early this morning I posted that it was my mom's birthday. At the moment I hit send, I began to cry. It has been quite some time that I wept over missing her - not that it lessens what her absence means. I put out a wish for her to assure me she was with me. Ba...

As Mother's Day 2014 quickly approaches, it occurred to me that I haven't blogged in a very long time. My son aka Mancub, is nearly 20 years old. Just the fact that I still refer to him on the blog as Mancub tells you that I'm still quite protective. When I stop quickly in the car I still fling my right arm in front of his chest. You know, the original safety restraint. Every year he gives me the same thing on Mother's Day. Nothing. If I remind him what day it is, he'll wish me a happy Mother's Day and go on about his business of playing video games or sorting through his YuGiOH! cards. Wait. Before your eyes get lodged in your skull from rolling them, let me clarify that I'm not complaining. Every single day of the year my kid celebrates me. As I said earlier, he's nearly 20 years old. One of the first things he does when he sees me after waking is gives me a hug. He wants to. Whenever I leave for work, or he gets out of the car to go to classes...

Ah, the beginning of a new era. Please permit me to inject sound effects of screeching tires, needle scratching across a record. When my little bundle of love was born I had huge hopes for him. It's natural for any parent to imagine what great things their newborn will be capable of accomplishing. It's easy because that version of the future is so far off ... Now, insert the sound effect of a rocket blasting off or race cars speeding around the track. Time flies, yo'! Being the only parent consistently in my son's life, I admit to over protection. It is a fact. Mancub has heard my admission time and time again along with apologies for having done so. I am that mom who would have wrapped her child in bubble wrap in order for him to play football. You laugh. I am serious. When I dropped him off for his first day of Kindergarten I had to pull off the road to sob. Then, repeat until arriving at home to completely break down. He survived, but not without co...

Mom at a Barbershop Choir convention My mother is no longer walking amongst in the land of the living.  At age 51, June, 1981 she left us after a battle with cancer. I miss her just as much today as I did then. Probably even more since the anger has departed and now all I have are precious memories of the woman who birthed 8 children and longed for more. However, my birth wasn't the easiest and she made me her caboose.  It's best described as ending with perfection. Smile. Today I wanted to share with you a story of eggnog.  Many people don't care for its texture or flavor. As for me, gimme, gimme, gimme! Let's not trouble ourselves the high fat and calorie content as you walk with me on the path of joyful memories. Please to enjoy, Mama's Christmas Eggnog Ever since I can remember I have loved eggnog. While passing Fannie May Candies I eyed a sign in the window advertising their new item: Cheesecake. Like Homer Simpson spying a donut I muttered, "mmmm...

For as far back as I can remember in my childhood we were told to stand up straight.  Our mother was a stickler for good posture.  At any given moment one of us would feel the pressure of her pointy finger in the middle of our backs instantly causing our shoulders to pull back as if they'd been tethered with a counter weight.  Her reason to me was that it would make me appear confident, thinner AND when I aged and got bigger boobs they'd seem less droopy.  Mom was right. Naturally. My own son hasn't been inflicted with my index finger.  As he set off for the bus this morning I called out to him, " Pull your shoulders back !"  Instantly, he did.  But it looked painfully unnatural.  His head was still cocked down like the dopey vulture from the cartoons.  " We'll work on fixing that. Have a great day !"  And he shuffled off surely releasing his posture to the slumpiness that screams Shaggy of Scooby Doo.  Poor posture isn't limi...