For you, Confessions of a Middle Aged White Woman

I've been blogging for quite some time now.  My friend, LeighAnn, got me started.  I so enjoyed her blogs about her taking back her health & body (and, honestly, sharing her life), that I started doing something I'd been thinking about for awhile.......blogging.

Whether people read my blog or not, I love blogging.  She, Confessions of a Middle Aged White Woman, blogged recently about blogging being her release, her therapy.  She is so dang busy I don't know how she has time to blog, but she does.  And I love reading about her so normal life...the every day laughs, the every day oops, the every day encouragement, and the giggles I get out of her blog.

Whether she knows it or not, she inspires me to continue blogging...whether people read it or not.  It's my release, my therapy.

It's been a long week.  LONG.  How many days till summer?  Well, temperature here dictates that it already is summer...gotta love Tampa Bay.  But, seriously, how many days until school's out for summer?  And can I sing that day?  Yes, I know, by July I'll be singing "when does school start", but at least I'm up front about that.  By April, I want summer.  By July, I want school.  Don't judge.

My husband is in Colorado until Tuesday...there's snow there.  And I have boob sweat.  He's there with his bestie....yes, he has a bestie.  I love Patrick.  They remind me very much of me & my bestie.  It's adorable. Anyway, there they are, in hard hats, in the Rockies, with jackets, and firm mattresses, and I'm here ordering pizza because I'm tired.  Hope I'm still a good mommy!

Have felt confident this week, and that is in huge part to my husband & bestie.  Spent time with my bestie this week, and it always makes me feel good.  My bestie knows just what to say and do.  And her hugs are the bombdiggaty.

Here's to pizza, Nickelodeon, and Friday nights!

wasn't i just a teenager?

In 1989, 2 Live Crew's "Me So Horny" was popular.  I didn't own the tape, mom and dad wouldn't allow it.  But I played it on the radio in my room, when Q105 would play it.  And record it on the tape recorder, with deejay talking over the beginning part  And I would play it loud.  Loud.  And one day,loud, no earbuds  (there was no such thing as earbuds).  I remember hearing my mom knock so loud.....................LOUD.  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.  "Hey, horny girl, turn the music down!!!!!!!!!" in a PISSED OFF voice.  I did.  Immediately.

We have 2 teenagers.  And we're dealing with teenage stuff.  And I try to remind myself of these kinds of things as we navigate being parents of teenagers.  Teenagers are going to grey me quickly.  Shit, they already have.  Why couldn't I have behaved, so that karma didn't kick my ass?

Some days I feel like I was just a teenager.  Other days I'm thankful that I'm not.  Other days I feel like it was a lifetime ago........I'm sure all of these feelings are normal.  What hasn't changed is that parents don't always get what teenagers are doing.  I know I look at ours and think, "really?".

I hope we're doing this right!

friends

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." - Marcel Proust



I am fortunate to have so many friends.  Thank you to all of my friends who took time out of their schedules, and provided material needs, to family members of mine who you've never met and don't know.  

I have so many amazing friends...so many beautiful people in my life.  I love you all.

our roots run deep

Our roots run deep in Alabama, on my side......this week was a Stewart strong week.  One of my cousin's wife's mom passed away, from the very same thing that my dad passed away from.  One of my aunt's oldest daughter, who passed away less than a year ago, has a son that gave my aunt a great grandchild.  And a couple of nights ago, while my family was mourning the loss of my cousin's wife's mom, another cousin's house burned, and they lost everything.

Stewarts get back up.  They don't back down, ever...but that's a whole other story.  They get back up, and we all get up with them, stand beside each other, behind each other, and get each other through all of it.  There are times in every family's history in which family is fighting, this one isn't getting along with that one.  That's true in our family, too.  But the second we need each other - we're there.

Thank you to all of my friends who have helped our family get through this, and thank you to all of my friends and family who have prayed for my family.  I love you all.

Tonight is a night I'm thinking of roots, family, memories, & what's ahead for all of us.  And thankful for every minute of it.

b-town

It doesn't matter how big Brandon gets, it's still a small town in so many ways...sometimes I get so tired of being here, with the development & growth, and Brandon being so different than it was when we were growing up.  Other days, I relish the fact that I still live in my hometown...I pass streets I used to bicycle down, houses we used to go to parties at, schools we went to, streets I learned to drive on...places and times so ingrained in my memory that I get to celebrate, almost daily, what a wonderful place Brandon was to grow up in.

Went to Publix today...a Publix that wasn't existent when I was growing up.  When I was growing up, the entire property was an orange grove.  Kingsway & Windhorst.  While there, I saw a friend's teenage son stocking shelves...had a nice chat.  Turned the corner around by the deli and saw the dad of a friend we grew up with, literally grew up with, she lived down the street & we got into all kinds of silliness with her.  I said, "Grandpa Jett!" (I saw this past week on facebook that he and Mrs. Jett are expecting their second grandchild), to which he responded, "I'm about to be a grandpa AGAIN!".  I said, "I know!  I saw on facebook".  He pulled out a kickass phone, said he doesn't do much with it, really just wants to use the phone part.  He said he doesn't really get on facebook.  I told him, "I know.  I sent you a friend request like forever ago and you haven't accepted it".  He shrugged.  I love my parents' generation.

Got the fixins' for tomorrow's bbq ribs and corn risotto dinner, and headed out.  On Windhorst, blasting my radio, singing along, and, yes, dancing along, I put my blinker on to turn left on Kingsway.  There's still no arrow at that light (remember when it was a stop sign?), and as I was waiting, the car coming through the intersection threw the sign of the horns at me.  She saw me, hell yeah.

Got into our neighborhood, my neighbors got to listen to GNR, whether they wanted to or not.

Hells yeah, I still love B-town.  This is my town.

this isn't mine

Read this and it rolled itself over and over in my head, my body...not sure why I"m sharing except that maybe it will remind some of us that we aren't alone.

Death was now a daily presence, blowing over me in cold gusts. Mysteriously and in ways that are totally remote from normal experience, the gray drizzle of horror induced by depression takes on the quality of physical pain. But it is not an immediately identifiable pain, like that of a broken limb. It may be more accurate to say that despair, owing to some evil trick played upon the sick brain by the inhabiting psyche, comes to resemble the diabolical discomfort of being imprisoned in a fiercely overheated room. And because no breeze stirs this caldron, because there is no escape from the smothering confinement, it is entirely natural that the victim begins to think ceaselessly of oblivion.

--William Slyron