Since my absence has reduced Heidi to inquiring after me on my best friend’s blog, I thought it prudent to write a post before too much speculation is sparked as to my whereabouts.

I’m here.  I’ve been here.  At this moment I am propped against my headboard with a warm flaxseed aromatherapy pillow– which was a gift from Sharon–draped across my neck.  I’ve only just a few minutes ago stepped out of the jacuzzi where I sat slumped down in the water so the jets could massage my neck muscles.  In other words, I’ve got a doozy of a tension headache going on.

My last real post was full of excitement about my pending trip to Las Vegas to see Phantom of the Opera.  My life is such a great one that I get flown to big cities for the sole purpose of enjoying live theatre for my birthday.  I am lucky and, believe me, I know it.

The trip was perfect.  My mom and I flew in, dumped our bags in the hotel room and promptly walked to Harrah’s and stuffed our faces at their fabulous buffet.  I have two words for you:  Cream.  Puffs.  I seriously could have eaten those cream puffs until I puked.  I even developed a method for how I best liked to eat them:  I bit about a quarter of the pastry off of the top and then sucked the cream out before popping the rest in my mouth and letting my eyes roll back in my head as the perfectly flaky crust melted in my mouth.

We waddled out of Harrah’s to the Caesar’s Palace Forum for some light shopping before showtime.  My mother admired a tiny pair of high-heeled sandals before noticing they were Jimmy Choo’s.  Holding a pair of Jimmy Choo’s in her hands seemed to be a spiritual moment for her on par with my experience with the cream puffs.  We did remarkably little damage at the Forum shops.  I bought a Brighton ankle bracelet and she bought a picture frame for my nephew who is due to push his way into this world sometime this month.

On our way to the Venetian, where Phantom is performed, we wandered into the mothership:  Sephora.  The lip glosses, blushes and mascaras, oh my!  I fell in love with a lip gloss only to forsake it when I learned it cost $42.00 for a little tube.  I bought a new blusher by Laura Gellar and my mom used Amazing Concealer to touch up my dark circles.  I touched up my mascara and smacked some gloss onto my lips and we were ready to hit the Venetian.

The Phantom of the Opera:  If I told you that I sat with happy tears rolling down my cheeks for parts of the show, would it convey just how much I loved it?  If I told you that I had goosebumps when the overture played, would you understand?  Would you appreciate my wonderment if I told you that I gasped and couldn’t breathe again for a moment when the drapes were pulled away as the opera house was revealed to us in it’s full past splendor?  Oh, my God.  I loved it. I proudly wore a pink and silver sparkly Phantom tee-shirt the next day on my trip home.

On the way back to our hotel, my mother stopped at an outdoor bar and ordered a drink.  Before she’d made up her mind which drink, exactly, she’d like to order, the young bartender began tossing and juggling bottles and cups and ice scoops in the air, stopping only long enough to squirt several different colored juices in a cup.  Mom watched confusedly for a second, certain that she’d not specified a drink, before asking, “What are you making?”  He flippantly answered, “Somthin’ sexy,” and kept up his elaborate choreography.  My mother, who is rarely at a loss for words, simpered, “Oh.  Okay,” just as he plopped a cherry and lime wedge in her cup and offered it to her with a flourish.  And a price tag of $10.00.  It was priceless.

The trip was perfect.  I am glad I finally had an opportunity to write about it.  My birthday present this year will be another trip to another show.  I can’t wait.

I have more to write, more to say.  But my husband has informed me that he is fading fast into the Land of Nod and I must sign off if I wish to spend any time with him before morning.

Adieu.

 Lifted from Uncle Keith’s MySpace page:

A: Easy to fall in love with
B: Amazing kisser
C: Great kisser
D: Very very easy to fall in love with
E: Can kick your ass
F: Loves it
I: Has one of the best personalities ever
G: Doesn’t give a shiit
H: Amazingly hot
I: Has one of the best personalities ever
J: Hot
K: Crazy
L: Adorable
M: Very good kisser
N: Rebellious
O: Very very hot
P: Popular with all sorts of people
Q: Loves life
R: Loves to smile
S: Makes people laugh
T: Dumb and funny at the same time
U: Has a Smile to die for
V : Not judgemental
W: Very broad minded
X: Never let people tell you what to do
Y: Awesome friend
Z: Loved by everyone

H: Amazingly hot
E: Can kick your ass
A: Easy to fall in love with
T: Dumb and funny at the same time
H: Amazingly hot
E: Can kick your ass
R: Loves to smile

You tell me?  And, does this mean I am twice as hot and bad-ass as someone with only one H and one E in their name?

I broke my blog the other day.  I tried to upgrade my version of WordPress and instead, it wrote over my previous database as a new installation and, in the blink of an eye, I lost almost four years worth of writing.

Thanks to Leanne’s advice and Bluehost’s excellent customer service, my blog was restored by the next day.  I lost a lot of comments on my most recent post, though.  So, if you left a  comment and now it’s gone, that’s why.

******

I’m going to Las Vegas tomorrow.  My birthday present from my mother last year was a promise that she would take me to Las Vegas to see The Phantom of the Opera at the Venetian.  Due to life being life, we are just now getting around to taking the trip –a month before my next birthday.  It will be a whirlwind trip.  We’ll be there less than 24 hours.  But we will have fun.

I’ve wanted to see Phantom of the Opera since I was a teenager.  I kept the Phantom soundtrack in the cassette player in my truck when I was in high school.  I was that kind of kid: the kid who marches to her own beat.  I never cared if listening to Broadway soundtracks in the 11th grade was cool.  I liked it so I did it.

I remember turning up the overture because I loved how the blasting pipe organ made my hair stand up on the back of my neck.  I listened to Sarah Brightman as her voice scaled up into octaves I could only dream of reaching and I loved it when my friend Beverly would sing along because she kept up with Sarah Brightman, effortlessly.  I drank up the romanticism in the lyrics of All I Ask of You like it was nectar and yearned for such dramatic emotion in my life.  Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again seemed so poignant and sad to me that I sometimes listened to it just to induce that exquisite, tender melancholy in which feelings seem so heightened and wonderful and awful all at the same time.

I am excited to finally see the show on stage.  That’s for sure.  I never even watched the movie because I was certain I would be disappointed.  For me, a great deal of the excitement lies in the nature of the live performance.

I have more to write but it can wait.  I have some packing to do.

Until then, take care of you.

Snagged from Heidi’s blog . . .

You Are a Black and White Cookie

You’re often conflicted in life, and you feel pulled in two opposite directions. When you’re good, you’re sweet as sugar. And when you’re bad, you’re wicked!

What Kind of Cookie Are You?

The seven year old is home with his third case of strep throat since January. He started his medicine yesterday but can’t go back to school until Monday. He was feeling better today so I took him to breakfast at McDonald’s this morning (“Why do they want to hire smiling faces, Mom?”). I reached across the booth to butter his pancakes. He insisted the pancake on the bottom be buttered again because I’d not spread the butter to every edge as I had on the top pancake.

Afterward we went to the post office (“How much do you think this package weighs, Mom?”) and to the grocery store (“Can we make a fruit salad, Mom?”). I like to have fresh flowers for the dining room table and I let him pick them out today. I held three bunches of daisies out–red, yellow, and white–for his consideration. “What about these?” He wrinkled his nose, “I don’t like the white.” He picked two bunches of purple irises instead and I nodded appreciatively. We contemplated adding some statice to the arrangement but both agreed the irises needed no complement.

We had the irises scooped into our arms when some pots of cheerful tulips caught our eye. I felt, suddenly, like I couldn’t bear to take the irises home. No matter how beautiful they seemed, there was no escaping that they were, in fact, dead.

How does it happen that such a thing can make my stomach ache?

My son chose some pink tulips–not the color I’d have chosen but that’s neither here nor there– and we headed home. He was tired and I wasn’t feeling so great myself (sore throat and headache), so we took a nap. I slept the heavy, weighted sleep of a troubled person.

Was it the irises that caused my unease? No, of course not.

It’s the still-frequent ache in my pelvis six weeks after my surgery. It’s the fact that my recovery hasn’t been all that smooth. It’s that I am so far behind at work that I may never catch up–except I have to, because there’s no one else to help me. It’s that my husband is under a tremendous amount of pressure right now and I’m seeing less of him than I’d like. It’s that my son keeps getting strep throat and I worry about him. There are other things.

***

I cooked dinner tonight. I peeled and cubed potatoes and set them to boil while I worked on the fruit salad that my little boy asked for. I filled the sink with cold water and added some baking soda in order to soak the wax off of the fruit. I peeled and sliced kiwi and mango. I added blackberries and strawberries. I cubed red and green apples and handed chunks of them to my child as he looked on. He ambled into the family room and turned on the TV. I admonished him (he’d been in front of the TV far too much today!), and became distracted and stabbed myself in the finger with the paring knife in my hand. I yelped and blinked back tears.

My husband set the table and fixed drinks while I drained the potatoes, added butter, milk, salt and pepper. I opened several kitchen drawers in succession and wondered aloud where the beaters for the mixer had disappeared! My husband opened the drawer I’d just searched and quietly produced the beaters. I accepted them from his outstretched hand and looked around the kitchen again, almost frantically. In answer to Brad’s curious look, “Now I can’t find the mixer!”

“Honey, it’s right in front of you, on the counter.”

And with that, I just leaned into him. Right into the hollow of his shoulder. I rubbed my cheek against his T-shirt and tried to just . . . breathe. And he put his arms around me, kissed my temple near my hairline, and let me just breathe.

Something inside me unfurled. My stomach ache became more of a butterfly feeling. I remembered for a moment who I am when I am not recovering from surgery and worrying about work and being uber-cautious with my child’s health.

There’ll be another day when the thought of a beautiful flower wilting and dying will completely undo me. But God willing, there’ll also be a shoulder to lean against at the end of the day that happens to be attached to a man who loves me, even when I can’t see what’s right in front of my face.

Heather is on a business trip (brave woman! only weeks out from a hysterectomy and she’s flying around the country! I stand in awe.) and I (Sharon) am over here posting in her stead.

When I talked to her last night, she said she just had a chance to get her handwriting analyzed, and she didn’t do it.

I was amazed. For me, that would just be the opportunity of a lifetime: having a real graphologist tell me what’s in my handwriting.

I’ve been fascinated with graphology for a long, long time. Any time I see a stranger’s handwriting I can’t help giving it the cursory once-over: is it slanted to the right? to the left? Or is it straight up and down?

I turn the paper over to see how much pressure they applied in writing the words. Can I see the imprint of the characters pushing through the fibers of the paper on the other side, like Braille? If I can, that’s the sign of a forceful, strong personality (or, the person was in a fierce mood at the time).

Because I really do believe that our moods and predispositions influence how we write, not just what we write but how we write it.  I believe that, because we were all taught to write copybook at first, with identical scripts, yet no one (well, almost no one. I can think of one exception in my acquaintance, but she’s a librarian) writes in copybook now.

So, said Heather, why don’t you ever tell me what my handwriting means?

The fact is, I don’t analyze my friends’ handwritings. For one, I’m not qualified: this is just a couch hobby for me. Also, when it comes to friends and family I have a hard time of it. Probably for the same reason that psychologists don’t analyze their own families: it’s hard to be objective.

But also, there’s nothing glaring or cautionary in Heather’s handwriting. In fact, Heather’s handwriting is lovely (though she denies it when I try to tell her so. I don’t think anyone likes their own handwriting). Garland connections between letters like a chain of daisies, indicating a sweet,  friendly personality.

Her handwriting is firm, decisive, but kind and thoughtfully planned, well-formed, temperate.

Sometimes her letters alternate between cursive and print, the sign (I’ve read) of a quick, practical, highly intelligent mind. (Because the mind, while transcribing, is also simultaneously evaluating how to write each letter in the fastest form.)

I suspect that is what the graphologist would have told her, if she’d submitted a handwriting sample last night just for kicks and giggles.

Now if the graphologist had looked at mine….well. That’s another story altogether.

Now come on back, Heather, because we miss you…

Jill at Charming and Delightful tagged me for a six word memoir meme. All I have to do is describe myself, memoir style, in six words. So, my six words are:

She didn’t stand idly by, ever.

Also, Heidi tagged me a while back for another meme. I will do my best to answer the questions. They are hard for me and I’ve found I can’t name just one book for most of the questions. But it’s my blog, so:

1. One book that changed your life. I believe that any book that touches the soul deeply changes one’s life. But I think I learned to love being a woman and appreciate my femininity after I read The Mists of Avalon.

2. One book that you have read more than once. SO many! The Mists of Avalon, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Pride and Prejudice, Beaches, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, The Color Purple, Talk Before Sleep.

3. One book you would want on a desert island. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I love everything about it. Its grittiness. Its optimism. Its realism. Its hope.

4. Two books that made you laugh. Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg and Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns.

5. One book that made you cry. Talk Before Sleep by Elizabeth Berg. I cry in great heaving sobs when I read that book.

6. One book you wish you’d written. I wish I could have written any book in the style of Elizabeth Berg. (I was talking to Jellyhead about this just a few days ago.) I always imagine that my writing would be a lot like hers because she is so emotive and you can feel everything that her characters are feeling. Talk Before Sleep was an exquisite kind of agony to read because I loved it so much but I really felt like I was watching my best friend die.

7. One book you wish had never been written. Any of the books that spew hatred and intolerance. Pretty much anything Ann Coulter has written and many others like her. I won’t name more names because I don’t want to politicize my blog

8. Two books you are currently reading. Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H Lawrence (loaned to me by Sharon) and Empty Without You — a compilation of letters between Eleanor Roosevelt and Lorena Hickok.

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read. Gone With the Wind. My mother wants me to read it in the worst way!

10. Five people that I’ll tag: I don’t tag but feel free to take it if you want it.

Is your hair greasy?  Only after Turkish Oil Wrestling.

Do you like the smell of Bengay? Yep.  I use some stuff on my neck that a Chinese acupuncturist gave me that helps so much!  Thus, I love the smell.  And I like the way it makes me fell allllll . . . .tingly.

Do you like Dr. Pepper?  I used to drink it all the time but now it is too sweet for me.  I gave up the sugar in favor of the excessive sodium found in diet Coke.

Do you play your music really loud? Yes.  But it’s usually show tunes.  They’re benign even when played loudly and annoying even when played softly.

Do you sleep with the light on still? If I don’t have a little bit of light, I sleepwalk.  Or talk in my sleep.  Or sit up in bed and scream, thus taking years off of my bed-mate’s life.  That being said, I still usually forget to leave the light on.

Do you like onions? I like the taste they give food but don’t like to bite into them.

Have you ever put hair dye in your friends’ shampoo? I have never done that.

How often do you buy cheap scented candles? I buy the good scented candles and they ain’t cheap.

Are you for or against hunting? Mostly against.  But that’s because I rarely see anyone eat what they kill.  My grandfather once chased his brother with an axe and, when his father yelled at him, he proclaimed, “I’ll eat him, Daddy!  I’ll eat him!”

Is the weatherman in your city annoying?  I never watch our weatherman so I don’t know if he is annoying.  It’s annoying when my Weather Channel update is late getting to my inbox.  I’ll tell you that.

Are you an underdog? Not usually.

Name one thing kids do that you can’t stand: whine until they get their way  But what annoys me more than that is parents who give a child what they want so they will stop whining.

Do you have a nice job? I have the best job in my hospital.  Except for the second Tuesday of every month.  On that day, I am an indentured servant.

Do you know how to harmonize while singing? Yessiree, Bob!

Do you know how to braid hair? Yes!

Do you have a short attention span? No.  Not at all.

What’s your favorite fruit scent? Probably coconut.  Or pomegranate.  Or mango.  I must be exceptionally fruity.

Have you ever shaved a Barbie doll’s head?  I never really played with Barbies.  If I had, I am sure I would have shaved their heads eventually as a pro-feminist gesture.

What’s on your desktop background? A picture of me and Brenda from the night she cooked Brandy-Blue Cheese Steaks for us after my surgery.

What’s your best friend’s middle name? Lyn. 

Do you need goggles to see underwater? Nope.  I emit sonar beeps to navigate under water.  

Name the next movie you plan on seeing: I want to see Juno.  But I’ll probably be forced to watch a children’s movie.  It’s all part of a massive indoctrination conspiracy by the government.

Have you met your “special someone” yet?  Yes.  But special in a good way.  Not in a “special” way.

Don’t you think questions about your love life are stupid? Nah.  But I don’t always answer them.

Are you a pyromaniac? No.

How many languages can you speak fluently? Does pig-latin count?

Why don’t most nursery rhymes make sense? Nursery rhymes make so much sense!  That’s why they skeer me!

What’s your favorite sea creature?  I like corals the best.

Why did men of earlier times think wearing tights was cool? Support for the boys?

Do you like hillbillies? Some of my best friends are hillbillies! 

I felt excited as we entered the bus to go to the art museum.  I couldn’t wait to get off and look at the amazing art and photography.

As we walked in, I noticed amazing scuptures in the lobby, such as a man with different colored skin and a strange hat.  We talked about how old some paintings are, such as five hundred years old!

When we entered the gallery there were lights that shown upon the marzoles (?) paintings.  The room had benches at every large painting.

My favorite one was the carp and the cape.  It showed so much detail that the fish looked real!  It had two side dishes, oyster and bread.  The background had pots and pans.

When we got to the next gallery it was large and without color.  It had many pictures of different speicies.  My favorite was the chamillian partly because I have one!

I never had so much fun!

*He made a 100%

 Taken from Uncle Keith’s MySpace bulletin because I am too sleepy to type the post I was planning  . . .

1. Where is the person who owns your heart now?
In bed.

2. What did you do last night?
Kicked back on my satin pillows in my regal bed, ate popcorn, and watched Waitress — which I lurved!

3. What does your myspace name mean?
It’s just my ol’ boring first name.

4. Last person you text messaged?
My dad.

5. Who was the last person to call you?
Sharon

6. What are you doing right now?
Cooling off after my hot shower and letting my hair air dry.

7. What is your current problem?
That I am not allowed to do many things I want to do because I am only 2 1/2 weeks post-op.

8. What color are your eyes?
Not really sure.  Grayish, greenish, bluish. 

9. What is your myspace song?
I have a playlist that shuffles.  Right now, It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere by Alan Jackson is on top.

11. Last place you ordered food from?
Take-out? A place called Keith’s Hamburger Station.  In a restaurant?  Chili’s for Molten Chocolate Cake with Brad and the boys today.

12. Who was the last person you shared a bed with?
Brad

13. What color is your hair?
Dark brown.

14. Last song you sang?
Seashores of Old Mexico by George Strait.  It’s a waltz.  I love waltzes.  Waltzes make my knees melt.  So does George Strait, though.

15. Would you ever get back with your ex?
Brad’s the only serious relationship I’ve ever had.

16. Who knows a secret or two about you?
Sharon.

17. Last time you did something you shouldn’t have done?
Last night.

18. Who do you miss?
Sharon, Angie, Kirsten

19. Next movie you will see in theaters?
Not sure.  I’d like to see Juno.

20. What is your favorite drink?
Orange, Passionfruit and Jasmine Iced Green Tea

21. What do you wear more, jeans or sweats?
Jeans

25. Where are most of your clothes from?
Everywhere . . .

28. Is anyone jealous of you?
I doubt it.

30. Have any regrets?
No. Some D’oh! moments, though.

31. Who would you go to for sports trivia answers?
My brother or John L.

32. Where were you 8 hours ago?
The mall.

35. Has anyone ever told you that they like you more than as a friend?
Yes

37. What did you do last weekend?
Had my son’s birthday party and went to brunch and a movie with my family.

38.What Football team do you favor?
None of ‘em.

47. What were you doing 12 AM last night?
Sleeping.

48. What was the first thing you did when you woke up?
Snuggled up to Brad.

49. Who will you be with this Sunday night?
Brad.

50. Who was the last person you hugged?
Brad.

51. If you took a drug test would you pass it?
Yes

52. Is tomorrow going to be good?
I think so.

53. Do you know anyone named Dan?
Yes.  One of the funniest things I have ever seen was when he fell out of a chair.

54. How many myspace friends do you have?
56

55. Do or did you like school?
I liked high school but only tolerated college.

56. Would you take a bullet for anyone?
A select few.

57. Where would you like to live?
Almost anywhere would be an adventure.  I like the Texas Hill Country a lot.

58. Are you a good gf/bf?
Probably not.

60. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
With Brad, parenting a 17 year old *gasp!* and a 13 year old and being happy–like we’ve always been.