She looks just like you.

When I was younger, people would tell my mom all of the time, "She looks just like you!"

I do look a lot like my mom.

Maybe what people were saying was that outwardly I had some of the same features as my mom. We had the same color hair, the same face, the same freckles--which I love, thanks mom!

Maybe what they were saying was that we carried ourselves the same way, we had the same walk, we had the same speech patterns, same sassy mouth--which I love, thanks mom!

Maybe what they were saying was that on the surface, we seemed to be very similar.

Now, when I think of it, I think that maybe I'd like be like her inside, too.

She's honest, even though sometimes it hurts and sometimes she puts off saying it.

She's compassionate, that's never changed, it's just that my daughter filter has been lifted a little at the corners so I can peek out and see her as a person and not as my mom.

She's spiritual, I like that she has always strived to understand what it was she was placing her faith in and made sure that it made sense in her life.

She's loyal, she's there, through thick and thin, no matter what.

She's driven, this is a new one for me. She's been going to school for the past couple of years and working full time. It's interesting to see how she is evolving as a student, a person, a woman, a friend, mom, sister, wife.

She appreciates humor in all of it's forms, she is humorous herself, AND she laughs at my jokes.

She's accountable, that sounds so stern, yet it's a good quality. She's not afraid to take responsibility for her own actions and she expects you to do the same.

She's artistic. We take different forms on this one, she prefers playing piano or guitar and singing for others and I like to bake or cook for others while singing. She's pretty darn good, must be where I get it from.

She's genuine. She's the real deal, what you see is what you get.

She is gracious, warmth and kindness abound.

She is always polite.

She is intelligent. Anyone who can figure out how to raise one kid, much less two, three, four or more and do it well and still maintain a household and then start a career 25 years later, well that person must be smart, a clone, or crazy. Don't worry, two out of three ain't bad.

I always got jealous when other people spent time with her. It seemed that she spent more time with others. I just realized it's because she did such a good job.

Not that I don't love her and want to spend time with her, she just did such a good job passing on those traits to me, that I am an independent, self-sufficient, intelligent, funny, beautiful daughter, sister, grand-daughter, aunt, niece, wife, mother, friend, woman, girl.

I realized that I don't need to be jealous. I should be proud to share her with other people. Honored that she gave me those things first--including the recipe for Pizza Fish.

You know, now that I think about it, I was her guinea pig! Being first-born and all! Maybe I shouldn't be all that honored...HEY! Well, it all worked out in the end...

So now when people say, "Wow, she looks just like you!"

I can smile and say, "Of course I do."

Now, let me introduce you to my daughter.

Great-Grandma Mom

I had the best great-grandma in the entire world.

She would make Tang for us. We called it "Bumble Bee Tuna" and she played along. We still can't remember why we started doing that, but it didn't matter. I don't buy any other brand of tuna because of that memory. She told us stories, she sang to us in German, she brushed our hair.

She was legally blind, yet she was the hardest working woman I had ever met. She volunteered until she was in her 90's. She was stubborn. She made the best damn homemade white bread I have ever eaten to this day.

She smelled like lilacs and I think of her every time I smell them.

I was taller than her by the time I was eight. She played a mean hand of solitaire and loved listening to her "program" As the World Turns.

I disappointed her and hurt her feelings more than I knew and yet her arms were always open for hugs and kisses. Once you saw the hurt in her eyes you couldn't help but cry out, "I am so sorry!" and then it was done.

She would let us spend the night with her. She had this old radio on her bedstand and it only got in AM stations. My sister and I would spend hours searching for a station that played music "late" at night. Big Band is still a favorite because of that Ragg Mopp and Roses and Lollipops and Wonderful World. We heard "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" for the first time on that old radio. The radio is still there.

She had a large mirrored dresser with a mirror laying down on it. She had little figurines sitting upon it. My sister and I would "steal" the figures and wrap them in kleenex and "regift" them to her. She was surprised every time.

She bought us hairdresser practice heads. The heads with real hair so you can practice cutting and styling. We spent HOURS putting those heads in rag curls, braids, barrettes, if you could do it to hair, we did it to those dolls.

Dolls. She had the BEST dolls ever. All of my mom's old dolls. She kept them in a trunk in the attic. We would pull them out and dress them. She MADE the clothes we were putting on the dolls.

She would get dolled up to meet her friends for lunch or dinner. She was always put together. She had the best jewelry to play with and she let us, without blinking an eye, what was hers was ours. She had a gold tea set. We got to have a "tea" party with it one day.

We spent hours and hours with her. We watched so many Miss America pagents up there, I am surprised there isn't a stray crown laying around. We played "office" in the attic room where there was a little desk and an old crib and the doll trunk.

We spent time with her imagining what we would be when we grew up and asked her to tell us stories of when she was little.

She was loyal, hardworking, faithful, beautiful, strong, funny, kind, generous, patient, warm, loving. She was a lady. She was a dame. She was grace personified.

She died when I was eleven. That was twenty-three years ago. I don't know why I needed to write about her this morning.

Maybe because I never had the chance to tell her how I really felt about her. I wasn't old enough to appreciate her the way I do now.

Maybe because I was thinking of my own daughter. Her legacy, her great-great granddaughter, spitfire and smart aleck, somehow I know that they would have been fast friends.

Maybe because I should appreciate where my gram, my mom, and my aunt get it from and I should share how much I love them and how much they remind me of her.

Maybe because I miss her and I wish she were here to hear all of my crazy stories and if I share them she's closer.

Maybe just because my lilacs are blooming.

Walmart...the final frontier

Walmart is a space/time wormhole.

I can go into that store for three things and come out three hours later with thirty things.

And isn't it nice that they ITEMIZE your receipt for you? You bought 49 pieces of crap that are either going to clean your home, clutter your home, or you can eat--thanks for stopping by, come again soon!

And now that there is Super-Walmart and I can run in for groceries, too. Forgeddaboudit.
I may as well grab a little blue vest and just start hanging out there, it's not like I would collect a check if I WAS working there...

The best part of that store is the clearance aisle.

Now that is the definition of craptastic. Where else can you find a keychain, an air freshener, spark plugs, a lamp, cough medicine, measuring cups, lotion and/or body wash, switch plates, and lawnmower oil--in the same aisle--all at super-reduced-we-need-to-get-rid-of-this-crap-don't-you-need-it prices!

I am telling you, we set our clocks ahead an hour this weekend, I am positive that the hour went to Walmart, just kind of collects over the stores.

Did you know that you can CAMP in a Walmart parking lot??? For up to three days! You can take a VACATION TO WALMART! When you figure that one out, let me know. Then again, what could be more relaxing? Walk into a Walmart on Friday and when you walk out again, it's Sunday and time to go home!

May the smiley be with you!

Teleportation

Let me tell you a story about a conversation with J.
Right away you should know that this is a quick, sad story...

Okay, to give you some background...Megan and the two little boys (J & Shawn) have been going to "Logos" on Wednesday's at our neighbor's church. It's an afterschool program that let's them play games and have dinner together and hang out, while "gently" teaching them the stories of the Bible--kind of like Veggie Tales without the tomato and cucumber.

Anyone who has spent any time with me knows that I don't go to church and I don't believe in the Roman Catholic teachings of religion or spirituality, I have my own belief system. It's both easy and complicated, but you can dance to it.

Seriously, it's easy because I believe that there is a higher power and his name is Bob. He is an older gentleman, very soft-spoken and wise. He's tall and has white hair. He wears old soft jeans and boat shoes (with no socks), soft worn flannel shirts, an old floppy fishing hat with lures in it, and he smells like Old Spice. (Okay, so he's grandpa, but omnipotent.) I'll tell you the "Incarnation of Bob" at another time...suffice it to say, the kids all know I believe in Bob.

You needed to know both of these things...Logos and Bob.

J and I are sitting at the doctor's office waiting and CNN was on the TV. This was on Friday, and the big news story was that the Pope was dying.

J wanted to know who the Pope was. Well, how do you explain the Pope? So, I said he was the "head of the Church". J, being nine, puttered around doing his thing. I wasn't even sure that he had heard me at that point.

CNN was doing some more stuff on the Pope and J says, "Jesus' real name is 'I AM'" and I said, "Really?" J replies, "Yeah, I learned about it from THE BIBLE, DUH!" (as if to say, "heathen")

Okay, so now I am amused and I start asking him questions about Logos and what else he has learned. He tells me some random bible facts and then goes back to being a bored nine year old boy in a waiting room. He asks if the Pope is Jesus' friend. I figured that was pretty close, so I said yes. He says, "Oh, then the Pope is God's friend." I thought, are you really nine today? While trying not to laugh, I said, "yep." Then J says, "So, he's Bob's friend, too, right?" How can I argue? "Yep!"

Then they show some footage of the Pope riding around in his "Popemobile" and J asks, "What is that?" I tell him, "That's the Popemobile, it's a glass car, isn't it cool? Wouldn't you like to drive around in a glass car?" He looks confused for a moment, and then says, "Why does the Pope need that? Can't he teleport?"

WHAT?

"Can't he teleport?" J asks again, seriously.
"No, " I say stunned.
"Oh," says J, "I thought he could teleport. The Budda can, and his best friend the Dahli Lama can too, so I just thought the Pope could. Budda and God are like cousins and their best friend is Bob. Are you sure the Pope can't teleport?"

I feel like the elevator went up too fast and you get that weird stomach/head "which way is up/down" feeling. It took me a minute to really understand that he was being TOTALLY SERIOUS!

It still makes me giggle. "Can't he teleport?" Totally serious. Deadpan.

I thought you would get a kick out of reality being funnier than fiction.