DEFINING MOMENTS

A liar I am not.  As I pulled out of our neighorhood this one last time, a wave of nausea washed over me. 

This is it.

We’re really doing it.
No turning back now.

Joe had stayed behind to finish loading the moving truck.  It was me, the kids, the not so friendly voice of the GPS and a just-in-case road atlas tucked between the passenger seat and the console.  We wouldn’t be seeing him until we hit Charleston a week or more later.  What in the hell had I been thinking?  Me?  Little ole’ ME solely responsible for getting us from Iowa to South Carolina in one piece? 

And did I mention that I was embarking on this deathwish with no cell phone?  Another moment of sheer genius on my part, yes.

That was a snapshot of us, Charlie, Lola, Henry and me on July 1, 2011.  The first leg of the trip would take us to Cincinnati to my dad's house, his perfectly manicured lawn rolled out for us like a red carpet.  The drive was surprisingly uneventful, almost easy, if you don’t count the bicycle rack falling off of the back of the minivan at 70mph.

 “Hey, Mama.”

“Yeah, buddy?  What’s up?  Doin’ okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Whatcha’ need?”

“Uhm…nothin’.  But why are the bikes hangin’ down like that?”

But everybody needs a good roadtrip story, don’t they?  We stayed in Cininnati the better part of a week – just long enough to wipe out completely my dad and his wife – before we got back in the car and attempted the final leg of the trip to reunite with Joe and Luna.

We said adios to Des Moines nearly two weeks ago and though it’s been exciting, I gotta be honest when I say that there’s a part of me that’s scared shitless.  I feel something like a refugee right now; no home to call my own, just drifting along looking for a soft spot to land.  We’ve got a little more than a week left Stateside before we make this giant leap.  And this is by far the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life, well if you don’t count that time I eloped or that time I shaved my head or that time stayed the night alone in a brothel…

So there’s been a few defining moments as we’ll call them.  The point is, without any of those moments I wouldn’t be who I am today.  Life is meant to be lived.  You’ll never know how great the water is until you throw yourself in, even if it is headfirst.  So go on now, get your butt off the internet and go do something you’ve never, ever done before. 

Go ahead, I dare you.

LIVE

YOUR

LIFE.

NOT TONIGHT HONEY, I'M PARALYZED

Kiss my ass, U-Haul.

Packing ten years worth of bullshit in the span of 6 weeks might just go down as one of my stupidest moments yet. Especially after last night. I’ve never had such back pain in my entire life. Ever.  And as if that wasn’t bad enough Joe decides he’s horny - I can’t even move, the pain is paralyzing and I’m just laying there like a Christopher Reeve, face down in my own pool of drool, nothing below the neck moving while Don Juan is dry humping my leg; his lame yet noble attempt at trying to put me in the mood. I’ve had sexier moments, yes, but last night was not one of them.


It dawned on me between muscle spasms and the annoying nudge of the one eyed snake under the covers that I’m just never gonna be one of those Real Housewives of Bravo TV. Those skinny bitches who get to whine about how much they’ve got on their plates with all that working out and shopping they have to do. However do they find the time? Well, it’s just not in the cards for me and I’m coming to terms with it. Slowly.

When Joe told me that he had confirmed the 6 one way tickets I will admit, there was a feeling of sheer panic that swept over me. It’s like those first five seconds after you read the positive results from your home pregnancy test. You’re thrilled but at the same time thinking, Holy Shit, no turning back now. Yeah, that’s how I feel. We’ve just launched ourselves from the 10 metre platform and well, there’s no turning back now.

I won’t complain anymore about working like a slave for these next six weeks. Quite honestly, I have neither the time nor the energy. No, I think I’ll save it instead for title consideration for my future book.

The Girl with the Couch on her Back.

Reeks of Pulitzer, doesn’t it?

Penny for My Thoughts

"Come on, Mama...what are YOU gonna wish for?"

A wink and a smile crossed my face, "Nuh-uhh. If I tell you Buddy, it won't come true."

Truth be known, I was a little too self conscious to share my thoughts on this question. That, and a four year old has not the time nor the patience to put up with listening to them. This was us a month ago standing in the middle of The Mall of America, our backs turned to a coin filled fountain; breeding ground of wishes, dreams and surely pseudomonas . Joe had given everybody one penny. One chance at making a wildest dream come true. Pennies were cast in hopes of that one wish granted; one lobbed haphazardly, one dropped clumsily, one thrown at rocket speed and mine...mine...mine was burning a hole in the palm of my hand as I strategized.

I can't really blame CF for ruining the moment. No, not this time. I'll take full responsibility for this one. Me and my big fat Type A personality. My parents nicknamed me Patty Perfect as an adolescent. Perfect? Ha! Far from it but the name stuck anyway, like a sticky wad of bubblegum to the bottom of a brand new shoe. Alas, in most arenas I have found this nickname to be a true fit and this moment was no exception. Think hard Patty, this wish has got to be PERFECT.

My strategy for this wish went against every grammatical fiber of my being and as a cool sweat began to bead my furrowed brow, I closed my eyes in deep concentration, willing my wish to come true.

I wish for the excellent health of my family as we live a long and peaceful life in our white washed casa amidst the rolling hills of Spanish sunflowers in the province of Andalucia where our children will recieve news that a cure for cystic fibrosis has been found before the reporters show up at our doorstep to confirm the news that we have indeed won the national lottery.

The beauty of a wish is that there are no rules - something I clearly took advantage of in that run-on sentence of a hope. Lottery, sunflowers and white washed casa aside, there was no way I could leave out good health. But CF? Damn it! How do those two dreadful letters find their way into EVERYTHING?!

Is a penny enough to grant all that AND a cure? Probably not. Maybe next time I'll pack away the Type A, keep it simple and just wish for happiness.