Ode To Jason!

When I started my blog, Jason was my first “follower”. I became quite excited when I realized that my blog had an official follower and so I did some technical research (I clicked on a little icon, whoo-hoo, go me!), which revealed that my follower was Jason. I promptly sent him a mushy-gushy email to which he replied, “Like I wouldn’t have your back.”

That’s Jason to a tee: L O Y A L

Jason reads my blog almost every day and when we see each other, he will make a little comment in reference to my blog, so that I know he is still keeping up on it.

Once in passing, I mentioned to Jason that I love Red Velvet Cake and that, of my many disasters, er… adventures in the kitchen, I AM able to make Red Velvet Cake from scratch, even though when I was a little girl I stuck both of my hands in the batter, after the red dye was added, and attempted to “gently fold the batter,” like I had seen on Sleeping Beauty. That didn’t work out so well.

Ah, sometimes I feel like my life is one big experiment only the hypothesis got lost along the way!

Anyway, Jason and I went to get coffee one evening, because we’re posh like that, and he, out of the blue, asked the Barista if they had any Red Velvet Cupcakes for me to try. I thought that was a very sweet gesture.

Jason is also like a little brother and can get under my skin like only a little brother can!
He is brave enough to attempt to teach me how to make stir fry, though, for which I am grateful. I am very excited about this. I am very terrified about this too! I tend to set fires in the kitchen...much to my chagrin; Jason informed me that with our gas stove, he could make big flames! Oh boy!

So folks, I hope that when I blog about making stir fry that 1) I am doing from my home computer because that will mean the house did not burn down and 2) that I still have my eyebrows!

Missyism at the Orthodontist

Like a lot of high-schoolers, I had the honor and privilege of wearing braces. I really loathed my braces…even though every couple of months I was able to pick wonderful, new colorful rubber bands to adorn the brackets! UGH. I would have much rather been able to pick out wonderful, new bracelets to adorn my wrists than colorful rubber bands to adorn my teeth!

I am not a big fan of the dentist. Who is? I had to visit the orthodontist regularly though, so it became no big deal. In fact, I got so used to going to my orthodontist that one afternoon, before an appointment, I decided to have a snack! For whatever reason, we had Oreo Cookies in the house. We didn’t have a lot of junk food around when I was a kid. I didn’t grow up with Kool-Aid, I had to drink milk with dinner; so, why we had Oreos in the house that day I will never know. Oh, how I love Oreo Cookies dipped in milk! I savored each and every one before this orthodontist appointment because as sure as the sky is blue, my mouth would be sore afterwards and eating would not be pleasurable!

Unfortunately, at this orthodontist appointment, the doctor was taking impressions. Impressions are when a humungous metal shoe-horse shaped thing, only deeper that a shoe-horse, gets filled with clay and shoved in your mouth to get an impression of your teeth. It has to sit in your mouth for a few minutes and it is one of the worst experiences on the face of this earth! Because, as sure as the sky is blue, you will surely gag when that big metal thing filled with clay is shoved under the top row of your teeth and roof of your mouth. Worse even, is that you are lying down on your back when said torture occurs!

So, why, prêt ell, did I think it was OK to eat Oreo Cookies right before my appointment, I will never know! As soon as the impression contraption settled in my mouth I began to gag. My orthodontist tried to talk me down off this dangerous ledge I was teetering, telling me to breathe in and out of my nose, to relax, to take deep breaths, etc. etc. None of it helped. I couldn’t control the gagging; I could feel the Oreo Cookies from earlier rising to the back of my throat. Fear and panic began taking over me. Before I knew it, Oreo Cookies began shooting out of my mouth, straight up in the air, like a geyser exploding! I will never, ever forget that sight, laying on my back, looking up, and seeing an Oreo cookie fountain shooting out of my mouth. If it wasn’t so disgusting, it would have been pretty. What goes up must come down and pretty soon, I was bathed in Oreo Cookie “Blizzard”, all over my neck, running down my shirt. Lovely, freaken lovely! Not to mention my embarrassment! I was beyond mortified!

When my regurgitation let up, I was ushered into the bathroom where I attempted to make myself presentable enough to vacate the premises. The commotion must have been a little noisy because to my horror, as I exited the building through the waiting room (apparently there were no rear exits) all patrons sat erect and wide-eyed, with all eyes on me. The only icing on this cake was that I did not trip and fall flat on my face while partially covered in half digested Oreos right in front of an entire waiting room full of people! As soon as I got home, I cleansed myself in the shower, one of the most cleansing showers of my life.

Life lesson learned- Never eat Oreo Cookies before going to the orthodontist, dentist, oral surgeon, etc!

Mission: Rehearsal; the Sinatra Saga Continues!

We had tickets to see Frank Sinatra Jr. at Cache Creek Indian Casino on Saturday. For months, we debated about whether we would drive up early in the hopes of “running into” Mr. Sinatra (man, I get goose bumps just typing his name, S I N A T R A, brings chills to my spine, for that name means so much to me: icon, crooner, idol, and the songs! Oh, the songs! They bring peace, happiness; contentment and fulfillment to my soul…how can songs do that? I don’t know; but, the Sinatra songs sure do).

The dilemma was that only my Grandmother and I wanted to get there early in an attempt to see the rehearsal before the evening performance. Our family doesn’t trust the two of us to go at such a feat alone, so we had to try and talk my Grandfather into accompanying us. Low and behold, we convinced him to head up there early. Dave also decided to accompany us! The drive to the casino was filled with excitement and nervous energy for my Grandma and I, who had high hopes of meeting Mr. Sinatra Jr. again; partly because if we did not get to see the rehearsal, we would need something to do at the casino for 7 hours until his show began!
The rehearsals are incredible, folks. You learn so much about music and about what goes into a production. On the drive to the casino, my Grandpa acted as backseat driver, in the front seat, while Dave drove and oh, it SO cracks me up to refer to my Papa as a back seat driver, finally the crown has been removed from my head and has been bestowed upon my Papa, who learned just how difficult it is to be a passenger and not give the driver your two cents! Having Dave and Papa along for the ride also meant that we would have people at the casino to bail us out, I mean to support us in our quest, especially if we ran in to trouble for accosting innocent people. Because, that’s how you get into rehearsals, by accosting innocent people!

We had a pocket full of miracles that day, folks, and for us, the best was certainly yet to come!

I wish I was tech savvy enough to insert a link here, in pretty blue writing, that you could click on and read about our last Frank Sinatra Jr. encounter (from October); but, I’m not tech savvy enough to do that! So, if you are interested, the story is in the October archives!

Of course, no plan comes to fruition with out it being good and my Grandma and I had just that, a good plan! Immediately upon entering the casino we found the showroom. Immediately upon entering the showroom we recognized one of the men who work for Mr. Sinatra (we recognized him because we accosted him in October, in Lake Tahoe, in an attempt to see the rehearsal there…we even know his name! I think it’s a little funny that we are on a first name basis with some of Mr. Sinatra’s staff. Although, they probably have no idea what our names are! Minor detail, folks, minor detail!). I was trying to talk my Grandma into talking to him, the man that we recognized, he was sitting at the bar in the showroom, but she didn’t want to bother him. We do have standards, I’ll have you know! You never interrupt a man and his drink! We started to make our way to the second show room entrance/exit when we suddenly looked up and saw another man who was wearing a staff badge, walking straight towards us. I didn’t think anything of it. I was feeling like we stuck out like sore thumbs in the show room, and was sure that people from Frank Junior’s staff recognized us from Lake Tahoe and that they were internally cringing and groaning at the mere sight of us, probably contemplating whether they could get restraining orders to keep us from pestering them! I just wanted to make my way to the exit, where we could formulate plan 2. My Grandma, on the other hand, had plans for that man wearing the staff badge! She abruptly did an about face and took off after this stranger. When she got his attention, she gave him her usual spiel:

“Excuse me, hello! We have tickets to see Mr. Sinatra’s show tonight (*side note: when trying to get into a rehearsal, always, ALWAYS, let who ever you’re speaking to know right away that you have tickets to see the show). He let us watch his rehearsal in Lake Tahoe in October and we were wondering if we would be able to sit in on the rehearsal here today.”

I could not hear what else she said, but it led this gentleman to believe that we personally knew Mr. Sinatra, and he recommended that we call Mr. Sinatra’s room and ask him about watching the rehearsal! My Grandma cleared him up, thankfully, because I wouldn’t put it past her to try and call his room! I can just hear her saying, “Oh, you mean we can go to a hotel phone and request to be connected to his room? Let’s do it, Miss!” The stranger was super polite and told us what time the rehearsal would begin and what time he thought Mr. Sinatra would arrive. Then, my Grandma and I made our way to the exit and brainstormed our next plan of action.
The show room had a bar in it. If the bar would remain open, we would just secure seats at the bar and watch the rehearsal from the bar. It was too early to order drinks, though and we had only eaten a little breakfast and had a few peanut butter crackers that would count as lunch. We didn’t want to have a cocktail on an empty stomach and be bombed if and when we got to speak to Mr. Sinatra! You see, we do have standards and one of those standards is that when attempting to befriend Mr. Sinatra and his entourage one need not be bombed! Dave and my Grandpa only had food on their brain! So, we shooed them away so they could eat, which would leave us to our mission!

We made our way to the bar where bar tender informed us that the bar would close at 2PM (coincidentally the same time the rehearsal would begin…hmmm…being the great detectives we were, my Grandma and I turned down an alcoholic beverage, figuring if the bar would close at 2, they would surely make the bar patrons vacate the premises).

Now, we made our way to the entrance of the show room. This show room was tricky. There were 2 entrance/exits. We were not going to split up in case we happened to “casually run into” Mr. Sinatra, we needed to be together. Mainly, to ensure that I did not 1) become tongue tied or 2) become a blubbering idiot! I am shy. I always forget how shy I am. I know that sounds silly; but, I am typically surrounded by people who make me feel comfortable, therefore, I do not usually feel shy. But, I felt out of my element at the thought of accosting Mr. Sinatra. Thank goodness that is right up my Grandma’s alley! She has had plenty of practice approaching any one of the Sinatras. We were hedging all of our bets that Mr. Sinatra would make his entrance at the location we were staking out. The staff member that she had approached earlier walked by us while we were waiting and smiled and waved at her. That is a really good sign, we thought! He cordially acknowledged our presence, which means he must sort-of like us and that we must not be nuisances! What a relief!

We knew which direction to look for Frank Jr. as we figured he would be coming from his hotel room, thus exiting an elevator. So, we were facing the direction of the elevators. See, A+ detectives! My Grandma gets so excited and she cannot stand still! We nervously chatter. She keeps looking in all different directions, I, like an Eagle, keep my eyes focused in the area which I know he will appear. My Grandma decides to bet me that she will spot Frank Jr. first! If anyone remembers our last experience with Frank Jr. they will recall that it was me, moi’, who recognized Mr. Sinatra in a split second! I was willing to accept this bet. (I knew I had a pretty good chance of seeing him first because I am taller than my Grandma and could see over all the slot machines…Grandma couldn’t really!)

Our eagle eyes were scanning, scanning and scanning when all of a sudden my Grandma gets really excited and thinks that she sees Frank Junior’s orchestra conductor! She runs off (literally runs, folks, through the casino) chasing this man and leaves me all by myself! Crap! Crap, crap, crap! This means that if I see him, I have to approach him by myself and this makes me so nervous! While my Grandma was off chasing this stranger, I practiced and practiced what I was going to say, hoping against hope that Mr. Sinatra was not going to appear while my Grandma was not there!

I know that he is just another human being, just like me, and that I should be able to approach him just like I would approach anyone else. My heart doesn’t know that, though! I think anyone would be nervous about approaching someone who has meant so much to them throughout their life…someone who has been untouchable, someone who has always been just a voice, never real, in person. Someone that you know a ton about and someone you admire; but, someone who knows diddly-squat about you.

Luckily, my prayers were answered and my Grandma returned before Frank Jr. appeared and the man that she was sure was the conductor disappeared. The staff stranger who we (well, not we, she, my Grandma) talked to earlier walked by us again. This time, he told us that Mr. Sinatra had not arrived at the rehearsal yet, but that he should be here shortly!

Wow.

WOW.

We had an inside informant!

SCORE!

That has never happened to us before!

We could relax a little now because surely this kind, nice staff stranger would make sure we got the chance to talk to Mr. Sinatra if we missed it and surely this staff stranger would inform us if we were standing at the wrong entrance that would cause us to miss Mr. Sinatra. Surely.

A-Number-1 detectives, we are, my Grandma and me!

It was quite funny waiting for Mr. Sinatra. Every time casino security would walk by, my Grandma would casually turn to me and say with a smile on her face, “OK, we’ve got security walking past us.”

Thankfully, they never approached us. I had tough shoes to fill if they did approach us! One time, security asked us to leave a show room area during one of Mr. Sinatra’s rehearsals and my Grandma was attempting to reason with him. Out of the blue, the security guard grabbed my Grandma’s upper arm and tried to move her along a little more quickly. “Oh No He Di-int!” “Yes he did.” My Uncle was with us and he was having none of that! He immediately, with a quickness that surely could have pulled a muscle, got in-between my Grandma and the security guard, causing him to let go of my Grandma’s arm. My cousin and I were there and were young and were wall-flowers at the time; so, this mini confrontation mortified us! We were proud, though, of my Uncle and his protectiveness of my Grandma.

Still relieved that no security had approached us, we were still waiting, looking for Frank Jr., Grandma is talking to me and then, suddenly, in my line of sight, Mr. Sinatra appears!

“There he is Grandma, go, Go, GO!” I push her a little!

She takes off in a sprint. I am right on her tails. If this was a marathon, my Grandma surely would have won.

She got to Mr. Sinatra first.

Grandma: Excuse me Mr. Sinatra; we have tickets to see your show tonight. We’ve seen you many times before. We saw you in Lake Tahoe…

Mr. Sinatra: Oh, I remember you!
OH MY GOODNESS. He remembers us! I honestly didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or to be tickled and thrilled!

Grandma: Oh, wonderful! Well, you were so kind and let us watch your rehearsal there, we were wondering if we would be allowed to watch your rehearsal for tonight’s show.
*I know more was said, but, at this point I am thinking, “smile and nod, Missy, smile and nod, pay attention.”

Mr. Sinatra, with the coolness and assertiveness you would expect from a man in charge very coolly and with such assertiveness that it was sexy, said, “Follow Me.”

We both died a little bit, right there, when Mr. Sinatra, conveying an attitude that said, “Stick with me, kid, and you won’t be let down; stick with me kid, no one is gonna mess with me, I’ll make sure you get into the rehearsal”.

That is what his, “Follow Me,” conveyed. With out question, we followed him, a little star-struck at his, “Follow Me.” Whatta guy, I tell ya, whatta guy.

My Grandma, at some point, had commented to Mr. Sinatra that you learn so much more about music from watching the rehearsal.

After she said that, Mr. Sinatra talked to us for the rest of the walk into the show room. He has a beautiful, eloquent, calm, intelligent speaking voice. OH! We could listen to him speak for hours! He told us something along the lines of how school teaches you the rules and to follow the rules; and then you get out into life where applying the rules won’t always get you by and that’s when you have to learn to “improv”. He was, of course, speaking of music and referring to my Grandma’s comment and I am in no way doing justice to him and his eloquence in my interpretation of what he was telling us.

I love listening to Mr. Sinatra. He gave us the time of day. That meant the world to us. It is so apparent that this man loves music and that his knowledge about music far surpasses most musicians.

When we entered the show room he invited us to have a seat anywhere; but, cautioned us about sitting too close to the speakers in case one of them blew.

Now, in my head, I have tried to come up with the words to say to Mr. Sinatra if I ever got the opportunity and I could never formulate something that eloquently summed up what he and the music means to my life.

As my Grandma wandered to a seat, I turned to Mr. Sinatra. This was my chance. I wanted him to know how much he, the music, they mean to me and so I told him:

“Mr. Sinatra, it is such an honor to meet you; such an honor.” I looked him right in his crystal, sparkling blue eyes.

And he replied, “Thank you. You are a very beautiful young lady.”

I BEAMED. I thanked him. I repeated the words in my head over and over again so I would not forget them…”very beautiful young lady.” Mr. Sinatra said that to me, I kept thinking. I was in awe. I felt feelings that day that I don’t even know how to describe because they are feelings that I’ve never felt before…

Leave it to a Sinatra to leave me feeling that way…

Thank goodness for their music.

Folks, my life, at that moment felt complete.

Some of you might be rolling your eyes at this because you just don’t understand. Sinatra family music has been a part of my life since I was in my mother’s womb, through every change in my life (moving as a military brat, the music was always there…helped to make our changing houses feel like home when those familiar tunes filled up the house; during my parent’s divorce, the music was there, unchanging; at every family dinner and affair, the music was and is there; when my Papa was in the hospital, we brought in the i-pod and the music was there). You see, there is not much, if anything, that this family does with out music. So, that compliment from Mr. Sinatra, at the very least, it made my year! It made me feel a little bit complete. Whatta compliment, whatta guy.

The icing on this cake would be, that during the rehearsal, when Mr. Sinatra circulates the show room to ensure that the speakers are all in sync and that the microphones to all of the instruments are at their appropriate level, Mr. Sinatra came over to us and talked to us some more, explaining what this part of the rehearsal was accomplishing. Then, when the rehearsal concluded, he said from the stage, “So, ladies, what did you think?” We had the honor of talking to him for a bit longer and he told us a little more about what songs he would be performing that night and why.

During the rehearsal we noticed that the nice stranger, our informant, was one of the band members and the man that my Grandma chased, the man she thought was the conductor, turns out he was the piano player!

When Frank Sinatra Jr walked onto the stage that night, I swear he scanned the room, looking for the two broads who hunt him down and bother him to watch a lil’ ol’ rehearsal because, as he told us, “I remember you.”

Weekend Missyism

I am in the middle of writing, “Mission: Rehearsal, the Frank Sinatra Jr. Saga Continues,” but I could not WAIT to tell you this, alas another Missyism!

Dave and I went to see a movie today. It was a funny movie…exceeded my expectations. We saw, “Cop Out,” with funny-man Tracy Morgan and bad-ass Bruce Willis. The movie was at a pivotal point where vital information was about to be revealed. The audience was silent. No one was chewing pop-corn. No one was reaching into the candy. No one was slurping soda. You could have heard a pin drop. Then, something funny happened on the big screen, to which I normally respond to with a chuckle. But, instead of a chuckle exiting my mouth in the still dead quiet theater, a snort left my mouth…a big, loud, long, embarrassing snort! Much to my surprise, what I had found amusing, apparently, no one else in the theater had because there was not one other soul in that theater that emitted a sound besides myself. And, of all the sounds I could have emitted (a laugh, chuckle, giggle), I snorted! I never snort! What the heck?! The people sitting behind us began to laugh, a little uncontrollably, at my snort and the humor of the situation got to me, too and so I began laughing uncontrollably, my snort still echoing in my ears, laughing so much that tears began rolling down my cheeks.

Sigh.

Poor Dave. Poor, poor, Dave. He acted like he didn’t hear me snort like a big, loud pig. He commented later that he wondered what I was snorting/laughing at as he didn’t think that part of the movie was very funny!

Obviously it was to me…it warranted a snort!

Catch-Up

Do you remember how long I have wanted a new camera? I got one! I was soooo happy about it. The website, “cnet,” even rated it as being excellent! Not many cameras rate as excellent; so, I was STOKED about my discovery at our local Target store!

Sigh.

The camera has abilities far superior to my own! I guess most technology has abilities far superior to my own! But, at the least, I am able to execute whatever functions needed in order to get the end result that I want. This camera though, it overwhelms me…and it is just a “point and shoot!”

Don’t get me wrong! It takes really nice pictures by my standards, but it bothers me that it has more capabilities than I am aware of! So, that makes me feel as though I am not getting the best picture that this camera can take. I am not getting the most bang for my buck! Ha!
Why does that bug me?

Change…that’s why… I don’t like change…which perplexes the crap out of me because I am an Air Force Brat! I am the epitome of change! With my last camera, I knew how to work everything and with this camera, not so much. So, it sits on the island in my kitchen, taunting me, mocking me, thinking that it is better than me…and it’s right, so very, very right! Sheesh! How do I do this stuff to myself?!?! That is a rhetorical question, you need not answer, thank you very much!

Do you remember the new bath mats that we bought? The ones that screamed, “Oooh, I’m soft, go ahead, step on me, walk all over me.” Do you remember? Yea, you do? Oh good! Well, guess what? We returned them! When we stepped on them with wet feet, instead of soaking up the cold, the mats turned thick and cold and it felt like we were stepping onto a soaking wet towel that had just been pulled out of a bucket of water.

I’ve decided that I love dark teal! I am wearing a dark teal sweater today and I feel so Sex-and- the-City FABULOUS! I am sure that I don’t LOOK Sex-and-the-City FABULOUS, but I feel Sex-and-the-City FABULOUS! (For those of you non Sex and The City peeps, this basically means that I am feeling very stylish…en vogue! So, even though I weigh a million pounds more than the Sex and the City girls, I still feel FABULOUS! Can you tell that I really like the word FABULOUS.

I also like the word, fruition. It came to fruition. Fruition…it’s a good word.

Ahhh, I bet you missed me, huh? I bet that right now, your day is now complete and you feel 100% blessed that you were able to spend the last few minutes reading about cameras, bathmats and Sex-and-the-city FABULOUS!

Now, go, take on the day!

BEN

Do you remember awhile back when I told you that eventually I was going to introduce you to the people in my life??? It was when I wrote about Dave, in lieu of Valentines Day.
Well, today I am feeling inspired to tell you about Ben.

Ben is a great friend. If you ever have a problem or dilemma, he will give you time and attention to help fix said problem. We girls take full advantage of that. Take my friend Jenn, for example. It was a few days before her wedding… and a gal has lots to do during the days leading up to the “Main Event,” (that’s a Barbara Streisand song, by the way…it’s a Barbara Streisand song that my mom cranked up loud and proud one night, after a family dinner, and a couple bottles of wine, and danced away to her heart’s content!) so anyway, it’s a few days before Jenn’s wedding and she is so stressed that she is running around doing errand after errand and the whole time she has her shirt on inside-out and doesn't even know it! While said errands were occurring, more events transpired that Jenn would have to deal with and the girl was just at her wits end (the location where she ordered the wedding cake had the wrong wedding date…and you can’t have a wedding with out cake…it’s not American…and we’re American!). The cake is extremely important. Brides (me included) have long meetings to arrange how the cake will be decorated, the size, shape, flavor, etc. Then, more time is spent picking out a cake-topper, which is also very, very important.

*sigh*

Back to the story.

So, Jenn was overwhelmed as all brides are a few days before the wedding and one last stressful event transpired that was more than she could take.

Insert Ben. Ben to the rescue! Ben calls up our tearful Jennifer and has her explain the situation to him. He then tells Jennifer what he is going to do, which would solve everything. BOOM! Problem solved for Jennifer…courtesy of Ben!

Ben is very, very analytical, good at predicting what people are thinking and what people will do. That complements my thirst to analyze and pick apart people, situations, etc. He’s also very smart and has helped me, on more than one occasion, get through sticky situations. Me? In sticky situations? Imagine that! He’s also fun and outgoing, and makes us girls feel good about ourselves.

Ben will hate this post if he reads it. Ben thinks he doesn’t have a heart. Ben thinks he’s uncaring. Ben thinks he’s tough. Well, he is tough…but I call bullshit on the uncaring act! But, don’t worry, Ben. I won’t bust you out by recounting the good deeds I’ve seen you do. And, I won't tell everyone that you're a 'hugger.' Oh, wait, oops, I just did!

Folks, that is just a little bit about my good friend, Ben.

The Chronicles of My Asthma

I decided awhile ago, awhile ago being a few weeks, that I was not going to blog about my asthma. I concluded that people did not want to read about my aches and pains and complaints.

Unfortunately, my stupid asthma has become more of a part of my life than I ever thought it would be…and it’s wearing me down. Not in a dramatic, “I can’t go on like this anymore,” fashion, it’s simply just getting old.

My asthma presents itself in the form of a cough. A cough that I have gotten since the 5th grade. A cough that is very hard to control, meaning once I get said cough it takes an act of Congress to make it stop.

I used to just put up with my cough, it was no big deal. My friends and family (and I) have all dubbed it, “the seal cough,” seems fitting because the cough sounds like a seal bark. As an adolescent and young adult I truthfully admit that I did not do my best to ensure that I would not get my cough (what that means is that I did not do my seasonal inhalers like I was supposed to until the cough presented itself). As I got older (I hate the word older, by the way, there has GOT to be a better word than, OLDER) I began taking better care of myself to try and prevent getting my cough that never leaves! It mocks me, my cough, it is my Kryptonite. Boo.
I watched, for the last few years, my asthma get progressively worse. That’s what asthma does, I guess. It progresses.

Please don’t think that I am complaining. Every time I cough, or feel self pity; I remind myself that I am lucky. I am lucky that I am not dealing with Diabetes where I have to watch what I eat so closely that eating becomes a chore. I am lucky that I am not dealing with chemotherapy, radiation, or that I have a condition where I have to take 17+ pills a day. I am just venting. It’s what I do. I’m a feeler…and feelers vent!

I also feel like maybe, just maybe, someone who does have asthma could relate to this and that is comforting.

So, this winter I had experienced “asthma exacerbation,” and the kicker is, I did everything right! That is what is so frustrating! October 1st, I started my seasonal inhaler and I did it religiously, 2 times a day, every day. When I started to experience tightening in the chest (which was new to me, I’ve never had that, like I said, I used to only get a cough) I started my next inhaler and some over-the-counter drugs. I went to the doctor right away when those things did not work; she reassured me that I was doing everything right. She prescribed some new meds. After her visit, I did everything right (except maybe I should have started my oral steroid 1 day sooner, other than that, did everything right) and I got worse!

That is what I don’t like about asthma. One can seemingly do everything right…and still end up in the hospital, or still have to deal with a tight chest or cough.

Last night I had a coughing fit (that is where I cough and cannot stop) and Dave asked me what I needed. I told him that I just wish that I didn’t have to breathe!

See, asthma, for whatever reason, affects people on the exhale. So, you can inhale just fine, but heaven forbid you try to expel the air from your body! Heaven forbid you should want to talk, too! Talking creates a vibration, or shaking effect, on the respiratory system, which makes me cough every time that I try to speak! And, folks, I am a talker! You’ve seen how much I write…imagine how much I say! Now, you’re probably thinking, oh poor Dave, I bet she talks his ears off! How funny, Dave is probably relieved when I have my cough because he actually gets a break from hearing my voice! Ha! I’m just teasing!

If you are wondering what caused this rant, I’ll tell you. It’s because this week, out of the blue, I started coughing again and, just like in the past, it get’s worse before it gets better and it makes me feel like, Heaven forbid I should try and have a life!

My pulmonologist summed it up nicely. He said that with asthma, some days you will feel like you are on top of the world and some days you will feel like the world is on top of you.
The months leading up to me being admitted to the hospital were really, really busy. Every week-night and every weekend were jam packed with stuff that kept me busy. Granted, it was all plans that I did to myself. Most of it was fun stuff. But, I was so busy that my house, our new home, simply became a place for me to eat, sleep and shower. It was ridiculous how busy I was! And, poor Dave, I drug him around everywhere with me!

When I got released from the hospital, I retreated to the other end of the spectrum. I stayed home, relaxed, enjoyed being home, watched movies, hung out with Dave (all stuff that I was supposed to be doing) and even when I started going back to work, I was leery of making plans and doing things socially.

Slowly but surely, though, I created a nice balance between relaxing and hanging out at home and going out and having fun. I thought things were going great, I felt I was doing this balance thing perfectly! Then, this week, I started getting my cough. So, right away, I beefed up the medicine. The cough still progressed…so I beefed up the medicine some more and we’ll see if that helps or if I need to keep beefing up the medicine.

Last night, when I was coughing, Dave told me that maybe I have been doing too much, maybe I needed to make less plans and stay inside more. That frustrated me so much! Not at him, at the situation. Actually, it didn’t frustrate me, it devastated me. I can’t go out and have fun once or twice a week? Whatever, asthma! Hack-puh, I spit on me asthma! Stupid asthma! It frustrates me that I am only doing a quarter of the fun, social stuff that I used to do! Which is a nice balance for me but my freaking respiratory system needs to ‘step up’!

I am strong. I am a strong person. I am not weak. My asthma, though, sometimes makes me feel like I am becoming weak, susceptible, because sometimes I have to take it easy…and I don’t like always having to take it easy. I like to have the freedom to choose when I am going to take it easy and when I am going to do something. I do not like this asthma to dictate that.

Thank you for letting me vent and share my chronicles of asthma!

Guilt

Guilt

I hear a lot of moms talk about guilt, a lot of fantastic moms who shouldn't feel guilt (and the ones that should feel guilt, don't). I am only a mom to three dogs, two cats, fish...and a husband! So, I assume I have a lot to learn about guilt. In preparation for motherhood to a human that might possibly occur someday, I realized that guilt is not an emotion unfamiliar to me. I feel guilt for all sorts of reasons:

Guilt for eating Sweet Tart Jelly Beans
Guilt for spending $29 instead of $20 at Kohls
Guilt for not picking up the price tag that fell off of a display at Target
Guilt for buying $2.64 worth of coffee grounds when I still had some at home
Guilt for not keeping in touch with my little brother better
Guilt for making plans and then having to cancel
Guilt for going home at lunch
Guilt for staying at work for lunch
Guilt for not giving Felix, Flora, Frisco, Angel or Duke enough attention
Guilt for not being a better cook
Guilt for not being more organized

Guilt...it's everywhere!

Sheesh. So, how do we escape guilt? I don't know.

Last night at Kohls, Dave and I had thirty glorious, wonderful, B-E-A-utiful ‘Kohls bucks’! (I LOVE THAT STORE!) We were going to buy some wall art. It was half off and with our Kohls cash, our out of pocket expense would only be $20. Can I get a whoop-whoop?!?!

Well, our wall art was gone. Boo. Sad face.

Never fear, though! Missy and Dave found other treasures! Of course.

I wanted to spend fifty dollars. My reasoning was that spending fifty dollars would only account for a twenty dollar out of pocket expense and if we spent fifty dollars, we would get ten more ‘Kohls bucks’! It was a win-win situation, I thought!

So, Dave and I got wrapped up in bathroom floor mats. They were on sale. They were luscious, soft, warm and inviting. If you listened closely you could hear the mats whisper, "Go ahead, walk all over me, I dare you!" Oh, how I wanted one for when I exit our shower on dark, cold, damp and dismal mornings!

But, instead, because the guilt started to creep in and because we couldn't find a color that we thought we would like for our bathroom, we bought a floor mat for the guest bathroom. This made much more sense to me and relieved some of the guilt. You see, we were spending our money for YOU not for selfish lil' ol' us! We wanted YOU to have luscious, soft, warm and inviting floor mats that whispered, "Go ahead, walk all over me, I dare you!” And, I would continue to sacrifice my comfort buy exiting our shower on dark, cold, damp and dismal mornings by continuing to step on a tattered, old, cold rug!

This is where the plan begins to crumble, right before my very eyes. We found hand towels at Kohls that beautifully complemented the shower curtain in the guest bathroom. They were on sale, two for five dollars! Whoo-hoo! But, this made our grand total nine dollars more than I wanted to spend! Insert tummy cringe. Said tummy cringe will last all evening. Nine dollars! For Shame! AND, here's the kicker, we didn't get ten dollars in ‘Kohls bucks’! Now, have you ever been in a situation where you saved and saved for something, you wanted it so badly, and when the time finally came for you to rush to the store and get that thing, it was gone? That's how I felt about not getting ten more ‘Kohls bucks’. If I was a kid, someone would've had to buy me an ice cream cone! But, I'm not a kid; so, I picked myself up off the floor and with grace and dignity, Dave and I exited Kohls.

Except, the whole way to the car I contemplated aloud, much to Dave's chagrin, returning one of our purchases so we would not be nine dollars over budget. Yes, I'm a freak...I thought you knew that by now!

In my defense, though, nine dollars is a lot when money is tight! Nine dollars is a Stouffer's Lasagna that we can eat for at least five days! ;)

So, we get home with our nine-dollar-over-budget purchase. (But, in the mean time, thanks to a dear ol' friend, I had a Target gift card. Since I aquired said gift card, I have been scoping out desks. I've been watching the prices of desks like a cat watches a bug right before it pounces! Target had no idea that I was honing in on them! Whaa-haa-haa! (Evil cackle) And, as soon as a computer desk that I liked went on sale, I got it, folks! I scored a desk for our home “office” for $65! WHOOP-WHOOP! That made tummy cringe disappear temporarily!)

OK, back to the story. When we got home we wasted no time in setting up our new purchases in the bathroom. To our disbelief, we saw, right before our very eyes that the new purchase glaringly clashed with the shower curtain. We sat there dumbfounded, staring at our decorating disaster with slack jaws. How could we have been so wrong?! On the up side, the two-for-five-dollar hand towels looked great!

Unfortunately, for you, our future guests, we got the bright idea to move said floor mats to our bathroom...just to see how they would look and, whadayaknow, they looked pretty darn awesome!

Yay for my lovely feet! Yay for comfort! Yay for beauty!

Boo for our guest bathroom! Boo for spending more than I wanted to spend! Boo for the guilt! The guilt of spending money on something we really didn’t need.

Sigh.

Guilt. It's everywhere.

Except for my feet. My feet felt absolutely no guilt this morning when they stepped out of the shower and onto a luscious, soft, warm and inviting floor mat that whispered, "Go ahead, walk all over me, I dare you!”

BON JOVI

I need to send a shout-out to my sister-in-law who has opened my eyes to a whole new realm of entertainment.

You see, as an adolescent, I was exposed to KISS whose mantra is, (read in deep voice please, it will make me feel better): You wanted the best; you got the best, the hottest band in the world...KISS! *insert mad guitar playing here*

First of all, this is a typical KISS concert: rockets shoot off of guitars, Gene spits blood and flies, Paul breaks his guitar, and there are mad pyrotechnics going on throughout the whole show. At the very end of one of my very first KISS concerts KISS, of course, thanked their fans and the "KISS Army," and said something to the effect that they are here for us and because of us, they appreciate us, their fans, and that they believe in giving us a good show. They said they knew we paid good money for our tickets and they felt it would be a disservice to us for them to show up, dressed like a next door neighbor and simply stand in front of a microphone, strumming a guitar.

From that point on, I compared all concerts to KISS. Few lived up to KISS...

...until Tuesday night, that is.

...until my sister-in-law introduced me to none other than Mr. Jon Bon Jovi...and Richie Sambora!

WHOOP-WHOOP!

Folks, let me just say- WHAT A SHOW! Man alive, I swear! WOW!

I had a total blonde moment on the way to the concert, I must admit, for it was then that I realized I was going to get to see Richie Sambora that night, too! He and Bon Jovi, they're only legends, folks! And, I was going to get to lay my eyes on them, scream aloud and sing along!

I think I'm a sucker for guitar players because I don't think there is anything sexier than a man on stage holding and playing a guitar, wearing a short sleeve shirt with his bicep peeking out from underneath the sleeve. *SIGH*

Anyway, back to the concert! These are some of the thoughts that went through my head:

Stellar

Superb

HOT!

WHAT A SHOW!

ACTION PACKED, MAN!

The show was like one of those movies where you are on the edge of your seat the whole time, thoroughly engrossed in the wild ride that is in front of you, so engrossed, in fact, that you don't notice anything going on around you, the fifty thousand other people are invisible and mute, you only have eyes for what is happening right in front of you.

Bon Jovi managed to reel in the crowd. We were getting the show of a lifetime and it felt like we were a part of that show.

I am so relieved that my sister-in-law's taste for musical performers is better than her taste for football players! :) I even thought that during the concert! I thought, "For someone who likes Tom Brady, she sure does have good taste in music!" She hit the nail on the head with Bon Jovi. He's just a good guy, has endless amounts of good songs, knows how to move (let me say that again for the women folk- he knows how to moooooove, if you know what I mean).

*sigh*

Thank you sister, for taking me to Bon Jovi with you!

Oh, Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! This is part of the reason why you can't get any better than Bon Jovi:

In his song, "It's My Life," he refers to Frank (THE Frank, Frank Sinatra) in the line, "Like Frankie said I did it my way." (Very classy Mr. Bon Jovi...my sister and I ROCKED that line at your concert, thank you very much!)

And, and, oh, this brings tears to my eyes...

Do you know what song he has playing when his concert is over? Huh? Huh? Do you?

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT....with Frank singing it!

It just doesn't get any better than that.

Bon Jovi and me, we're on the same page when it comes to Sinatra...and that's a fine place to be!

When I go to concerts and shows, my mind always drifts to a world where I actually get to meet the performer I'm watching.

My grandparents have taken me to see Frank Sinatra (we made eye contact a whole bunch, I'll have you know), Frank Sinatra Jr, (I've met him!), Debbie Reynolds (she talked to me during her show!) and Steve and Edie (I got to shake Steve's hand). The showrooms where they perform are small compared to venues like Arco Arena or big stadiums

I am about as cool as a cucumber when I meet famous people, folks. Yep, that's me. Cool. Calm. Collected. Oh, everybody should be so lucky.

NOT!

When I met Dan Marino (Yes, THE Dan Marino, one of THE GREATEST quarterbacks to ever play the great game of football) he liked the notebook that I asked him to sign. He had never seen that notebook before. It was simply a spiraled notebook with college-ruled lined paper and a picture of the man himself in action, throwing a perfectly spiraled pass on a beautiful football field. Mr. Marino said, "Cool notebook, where did you get it?"

Quiet

Mouth opens WIDE

Still quiet

I'm thinking: My Grandma got it for me. Say, "My grandma got it for me."

My jaw hits the floor. Because I'm also thinking, "DAN MARINO IS TALKING TO ME!"

And even still, quiet!

Just in the nick of time my Uncle swoops in and saves the day! He answers Mr. Dan Marino!

PHEW!

I just keep on smiling!

Tact, folks. Cool, calm, collected and tact, I got it!

When my Grandma chased Mr. Sinatra Jr. through the casino in Lake Tahoe and started talking to him, I walked up to them.

This is what I think as I listen to my Grandma politely ask if we may listen to his rehearsal: Tell him you've seen him before. Tell him you love his music. Tell him your life as you know it would not be the lovely life it is with out HIS music...TELL HIM!

Or, just smile. Smile, Missy. Your mom says you have a pretty smile. Make eye contact and smile.

So, that's what I did.

Grace under pressure! Oh yea!

So, when I'm sitting is said concerts, I start writing letters to these performers in my head. They are quite eloquent letters letting them know that younger generations are still touched by their music, etc, etc.

Then, I think what a good idea it would be to write a letter in advance and put it on the stage after the show because surely the cleaning crew will make sure said performer receives my beautifully crafted composition.

Then, said performer is so moved by my letter that they contact me and we somehow become friends.

And we all live happily ever after.

Yes, I'm a freak.

But, a happy freak.

I can't help but think, though, "Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you...if you're young at heart."

You might be aware that I am also a KISS fan. You might wonder if the aforementioned fantasy occurs in my head in big venues, like where KISS performs. Rest assured, they do! In my head, I have become great friends with KISS.

And that, folks, is a little piece of what happens in the head of Missy.

Thank you and good-night.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!!!

This is late because my computer decided to act up while I was trying to post this! HOW RUDE!

So, Happy Be-lated Birthday, MOM!


My Mom and I have a very close relationship.

My Mom makes it a point to have dinner with me at least once a month. I leave those dinners feeling so high on life that nothing could bring me down! We sit and talk...and eat...chocolate...for hours!

My Mom is modest and proper...but that's just on the surface and when she lets loose, boy do we all have fun! My Mom is also feisty...and a worry wart!


My Mom graced me with her presence at my Bachelorette party and my Mom, to my horror, educated me...I'll never forget this line as long as I live: "Oh, honey, if you think that's how it's done, you've got a lot to learn!"

I'll just leave what she was referring to to your imagination.




My Mom came to one of my birthday parties a few years ago. It was at a karaoke bar. My Mom threw back a shot with us girls, danced and even sang, "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" with us! I think it's so cool to be in a place where I can have that kind of fun with my Mom!



My Mom is very, VERY, gullible. My Uncle spray painted part of his lawn orange once and told my Mom that he bought special grass that grows orange! He used to toy with the tires on her car, he would bend down really close to the tire and blow through his mouth so it sounded like air was coming out of the tire. My Mom would squeal and freak out and get hysterical every time!






When I was in high school, to save on electricity, my Mom would leave the windows open in the spring and fall. To mess with her, I would start shouting, "Mom, stop! You're hurting me! I'll never do it again mom, I promise! No, not the belt!" My mom would be mortified! She would run around the house, slamming all the windows closed and I would chase her, continuing to yell atrocities.




Why is it so fun to mess with our moms?




When my Mom and I go to "Yo Yo Yogurt," the yogurt concoctions that she comes up with look like something you would expect from a little kid- her yogurt has a little bit of almost every topping! But you know what? It tastes sooo good!



I feel bad for my mom sometimes as she has a daughter (that would be me) who has so many, umm, errr, for lack of better word, unique experiences. So many in fact that said daughter coined them, "Missyisms." It's a wonder my Mom doesn't cringe when the phone rings and she sees that it's me.



"Mom, I don't want you to worry but I accidentally, almost burned the house down last night."

Me: Mom, guess what I did last night?
Mom: You got another tattoo didn't you?
Me: Yes! How'd you know?

Poor Mom!



"Mom, I don't want you to worry but I'm in horrible pain and called an ambulance, just to let you know. I'll keep you updated" (I had a kidney stone...in my early twenties...WHO does that happen to????)



"Mom, I just wanted to let you know the doctor is admitting me to the hospital." (Last December- asthma)



"Mom, I'm pregnant!" HA! That was just to see if you were paying attention!


"Mom, SURPRISE, I got Paul a PUPPY for his B-day! Now, he'll need to be let outside to relieve himself every 20 minutes and you can't take your eyes off of him, OK? Have fun!"

I was also the little girl who thought that "gently fold batter" meant that I could stick my hands in red velvet cake batter (red dye already added) and attempt to fold the batter!

My poor mom.

I was also the little girl who choked on a quarter while trying to eat snow, something I was not supposed to do. I also had eraser toppers for my pencils at school (we're talking Kindergarten here folks) because I used to eat the erasers!

My poor mom.

And, do I even need to mention the countless number of poor, homeless animals that I brought home?


SO, as a birthday present to you, Mom, I am NOT going to tell the infamous ranch-salad-dressing story! Does that make you happy, Mom? But, if people offer me enough money, I will so post that story because it's SO FUNNY, Mom!


Happy Birthday, MOM! I love you! Thank you for everything you have done for me and everything you continue to do for me! I'm sorry for any gray hairs I've given you!