Love Never Dies

A few weeks ago, The Girl and I were sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch, quietly soaking in the warmth of a beautiful summer day. As we rocked side by side, she turned to me, tears in her eyes and said “I miss Brandon”.

Not knowing what else to say, I nodded my head and said “I know you do.”

The Girl stood and walked to the porch railing and leaned her head against a support column. Seemingly out of nowhere, a blue dragonfly appeared and landed on the railing next to her.

The Girl didn’t notice it at first and, as she continued to stare out at the yard, lost in her thoughts, I watched the dragonfly inch slowly closer to her. It sat there for quite some time, wings still, barely moving at all and I wondered to myself, when was the last time I had seen a dragonfly land on something and stay?

That would be never.

I then asked myself when was the last time I even saw a metallic blue dragonfly in our yard?

Once again, that would be never.

After several minutes, The Girl noticed the dragonfly and bent down to examine it. The dragonfly did not immediately fly away as one would expect but, instead, inched ever so much closer to The Girl and, the two stayed like that, examining each other for several additional minutes before The Girl stood upright at which point, the dragonfly zoomed away into the sunshine.

The Girl stood motionless for a moment, smiling to herself before turning to me and saying “Blue always was Brandon’s favorite color.”

Then, she went inside, leaving me with goosebumps racing up and down my arms.

Several days later, Brandon’s mom came by the house to see The Girl and to drop off the turtle figurine that Brandon had purchased for her in Mexico last November.

Unfortunately, The Girl was at a friend’s house and so she missed the visit but Hugh and I spent several minutes with her, and, as she was leaving, Hugh encouraged me to tell her the story of the dragonfly. I hesitated at first, not quite sure how she would receive it but, decided to tell her anyway and, as I related the story, she grew more and more teary-eyed until, at one point, she gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Then, she began to sob.

And I thought; great idea, Hugh.

It was ok, though. She had a story of her own.

The day after Brandon died; a blue dragonfly appeared in her yard and, as of that day, had not left. It hovered near her whenever she was outside and had landed and actually sat still long enough for them to photograph it.

I hugged her and we cried together for several minutes. We agreed that it would be just like Brandon to visit in some form, if he was capable of doing so, and it in no way surprised us that he would pick something fast and shiny.

The night before last, Brandon’s mom picked The Girl up for a visit to the cemetery. While they were at Brandon’s gravesite, neither of them was the least bit surprised to see a metallic blue dragonfly hovering nearby.

And it made them both smile.

What the…..Green?

Seriously, after all that discussion about flaming casts; the Man-Cub chose a green one. He said he picked it because green is his sister’s favorite color and because seeing it every day will make her happy. Which, leads me to wonder what she has on him and how long it will take her to tattle.

So, it's green. And, aside from being green (Green! Wha?!), the cast is also waterproof; something I did not know even existed! The modern world of orthopedic medicine is a phenomenal thing, I must say. For, now; the Cub is free to swim with the other children on the daycare's Tuesday field trips to the local pool. He can run through the sprinklers without fear and, thank ya lord jezus, he can shower regularly! With, like, shampoo and everything!

I'm so choked up, just, bear with me....whew, better!

You know, for just a second; I even considered letting him take his previously-planned swimming lessons. And, were it not a fact that the weight of the cast would throw off his stroke, resulting in something hideous; I might have allowed it. But, yeah, not so much, once a bad-swimming habit has been developed, it is really hard to break and I cannot allow a child of mine to have anything less than a perfect stroke.

And, yes, five summers of swim team when I was a child left me completely broken; I blame my parents.

And, I digress.

So, back to the topic at hand….

This is the plaster splint. Words cannot adequately describe the stench coming off the thing but, suffice it to say that, when the rather good-looking doctor cut it off the Cub’s arm, unleashing a green cloud of putridity; I totally denied responsibility. I may have even tried to blame it on Hugh for passing along a recessive gene for noxious body odor but, you can’t prove it.

In case you cannot read the inscription on the splint, it says; Man-Cub: If lost, please return to jungle. Dr. Hottie got a kick out of it so I did accept total credit for that. Like, duh.

This is the Cub’s new, improved and water-proof cast.

And, this is the Cub, looking mightily pleased with himself while plotting his next playground catastrophe. Saints preserve us.

Not That There’s Anything Wrong With That

We have an appointment tomorrow morning to have the Man-Cub’s broken wrist placed in a cast, finally. The plaster splint has been on for 11 days now and is emitting a funky smell the likes of which I have never before experienced; something evil lurks beneath.

Hold me.

11 days is a long time to wear a temporary splint if you ask me but, if you ask the orthopedic guy; not so much. In any case, it has given the Cub ample opportunity to think about what color he wants the actual cast to be and, as of this morning; he wants a black cast with flames on it.

Flames.

Which, Hugh decrees, is further evidence that the child is destined to be straight since no respectable gay man would ask for a cast that resembles something one might see at a NASCAR race.

Not that we had any reason to think the Cub will turn out gay, you understand (not that there’s anything wrong with that), after all; this is the child who just the other day told me how much he likes boobs.

Hugh’s just sayin’.

Operation Hottie By…..

…..ah, fuckit.

I had a great weekend! Friday night, the kids and I traveled to a neighboring town to watch my niece (The Princess) and nephew (The Rebel Without a Pause) participate in the Little Britches Rodeo. I got to visit with Older Sister while my kids, with a clear lack of consideration for my health; shadowed their cousins, darting underneath horses, climbing fences and generally giving me minor heart attack after minor heart attack.

Heart failure aside, I got to meet the newest member of sister's family; Max the Twee Wonder Dog. He is precious in a way that makes my teeth ache and, if I wasn't 100 percent certain that Rowdie would eat him whole before spitting out his rhinestone-studded collar; I would have smuggled him home in my shirt when we left later that night.

Oh, like you wouldn't.

Saturday, I spent the entire day lounging about on the front porch. It was hella-hot and I had zero energy for the million and ten chores that I could have been doing so, you know....I said fuckit and I enjoyed glass after glass of iced tea while watching Hugh slave over his chores. I did offer to get him a glass of iced tea too, lest you think me totally heartless.

Sunday was basically a repeat of Saturday with the exception of The Talk with Oscar and Emily, happily; it went quite well.

We had previously made plans for The Girl to spend the night with a friend since, as they say, little pitchers have big ears and, at least in my daughter’s case; spill their contents with only the slightest of tips. Since we don’t want the rumor of my departure from my job to get out prematurely, we thought it best to conduct the Talk with her safely out of earshot.

On the other hand, The Man-Cub can listen to a conversation and forget it even happened within five minutes. Hell, he can have a conversation and forget it in three. So, he got to stay.

We mixed business with pleasure by inviting Oscar and Emily over for dinner which allowed us all to relax a bit and, I’m sure the fact that it gave Hugh the perfect opportunity to show off his new grill was a pure coincidence. What’s that? I didn’t tell you about Hugh’s new grill? He would be horrified! Must. Remedy. Immediately! Let’s see, it is stainless steel, has six-burners and a rotisserie plus a separate burner for cooking beans in a saucepan as one is often wont to do. Oh, and it weighs 290 pounds which I know for a fact because I helped the man lift it fifteen inches up onto the porch.

Yep, she’s a beaut all right. A heavy beaut. Also, I came thisclose to breaking a nail while hefting the bitch onto the porch; I’m not entirely convinced that we can be friends even if it does grill my chicken breasts to perfection.

Anyhoo, Hugh cooked said chicken breasts and I made my special Caprese salad as well as my infamous Potato Crack and we set about consigning ourselves to A Life of Indebtedness to the In-Laws, certain we would have them eating out of our hands by the end of the meal.

Which, we did. Well, as much as you can have two people who already want exactly the same thing that you want, eating out of your hands, anyway.

My estimated date of Release from Public Servitude is set for December 17th. I am giddy with relief and anticipation.

And, scared practically shitless about the new responsibilities.

But! Just think of the money I’ll save on toilet paper! Money that I can then use to purchase rhinestone-studded collars for the twee precious lap dog that I plan to purchase once I have Rowdie's jaws wired shut!

Kidding, Hugh.

I Wish Someone Could Tell Me Why My Office Smells Like Cotton Candy

It is making me hungry and, that’s not a good thing.

On a completely unrelated topic, we had a lovely Fourth of July holiday yesterday. When the friends we were planning to host at a BBQ had a sudden change of plans, Hugh and I decided to pack up the children and head to a neighboring town for a soak in the outdoor hot springs. It was a great decision, even if we did have to give the Man-Cub the equivalent of a redneck arm cast; i.e.: a plastic bag wrapped with duct tape. Hey, it worked.

He even managed to get his head wet. And, to swim.

Anyway, we soaked and swam for a couple of hours before enjoying a picnic in the adjoining community park which, by the way, is one of my favorite picnic spots in the world because it is surrounded by mountains on all sides and, in addition to relaxing on the grass and enjoying the view, you can watch rock-climbers make their way up and down the face of the surrounding cliffs.

After our picnic, we walked downtown for ice cream cones at our favorite old fashioned ice cream parlor and candy store. The cones there are made fresh and I cannot resist a good waffle cone full of blueberry cheesecake ice cream, I just can’t. Of course, since the cone is huge, it’s a good thing The Girl also likes homemade blueberry cheesecake ice cream.

Once we had accomplished diet hari-kari, it was back to the hot springs for more soaking and then back home to get ready for Fireworks Extravaganza 2007. Oscar and Emily joined us for the display and, despite a sudden storm that included high winds and lightning bolts the likes of which I have not seen all summer; Hugh was able to put on quite a show.

Oscar, Emily and I sat on the front porch and shared a nice bottle of white Merlot while the kids enjoyed the show from blankets spread on the lawn. The show was briefly interrupted when the automatic sprinklers came on but I proved quite speedy in getting to the controls to turn them off and, really, the night was so warm the kids didn’t really mind the minor soaking.

After all, they are kids and therefore, won’t melt. On the other hand, sugar does melt which is why I took great care not to get wet, myself.

‘Cause I’m sugar, get it?

Yeah, yeah, lame I know.

Speaking of lame; the baseball tournament that Hugh worked so hard to put together for the boys this weekend won’t be happening after all. The other teams claim that the parents of their players are just too burnt out following the regular season to get it together for another weekend but, we all know the truth; they were afraid. Undefeated, yo.

Also, what a bunch of chickens.

Which reminds me; I'm hungry.

Where in the holy hell is that cotton candy smell coming from?

Asserting Our Independence

Hugh and I are going to meet with his parents this weekend to discuss the terms for our purchase of the family business. I am a little nauseous. Although, the nausea is probably a result of the Really Bad Headache© that hit me during a meeting with several members of my Board of Directors earlier today, rather than on the impending change of my career status.

Even still, the process is more than a bit scary and, while totally worth it in the long run; anxiety producing.

Tomorrow should be a nice day, though. We are hosting a BBQ for a few close friends followed by Fireworks Extravaganza 2007. Hugh purchased a butane torch with which to light his five million fountains, bottle rockets and sparklers and I attached the garden hose to the spigot on the front porch.

Because he is all about efficiency and I’m a safety girl.

Anyhoodle, here’s hoping your Independence Day is safe and enjoyable and that none of your neighbors have the audacity to subject you to hour upon hour of loud noises and profanity. Like that which my neighbors will have to endure.


Really Bad Headache© is code for a headache that starts with an M and ends with me writhing about on the bathroom floor in agony. The M word is verboten in my family as its simple utterance has been known to cause a reaction in certain family members. Sorry Sis.

So…It’s July

and, Operation Hottie by July is now Operation Hottie by the End of July So Help Me God.

Yeah, I don’t hold out much hope, either.

Anyhoo, I have managed to achieve a state of ignorant bliss regarding the situation. I recognize that I love the Starbucks orange crème frappucinos, Krispie Kreme donuts and Cheese-It crackers far too much for my own good. I also realize that, to separate myself from them would be futile. On the bright side, I have come to enjoy my daily workouts again so, it’s a 50/50 proposition regarding whether or not my ass will eventually overtake the universe.

In the meanwhile, as long as my jeans still fit; I’m good.

Speaking of which, remember my quest for the Holy Grail, AKA: The Perfect Jeans? Yes? And, remember how thrilled I was with my purchase of a pair of Seven for all Mankind jeans on eBay? Yes? Well, I managed to win two additional auctions for the same cut of jeans and I got them in two different sizes so; one pair is bound to fit me no matter the state of existence of my ass at any given time.

Nirvana. You heard it here first.