You sometimes reveal a little smile that has just a breath of the one he used to give me.
But you never knew him.
You would have gotten “the look” from him on many an occasion. And you would have towed the line when that happened. Trust me.
But you never knew him.
Yet you also would have made the apples of his cheeks protrude with the pride and joy he felt for all of us who felt safe standing in his shadow.
But you never knew him.
He would have loved you and your funny ways. Loved those hugs of yours that come with a running start. Loved your wacky dances. Loved your toothless grin. And he most certainly would have had a nickname for you. Something like “Muckel Jay” or “Mike the Tyke.”
But you never knew him.
Still, you act like you did.
When his name is the first one you think to write down on your paper for All Souls’ Day…
…you act like you knew him.
When I say, “You know who hated strawberries?” and you say, “Dooda”…
…you act like you knew him.
When, out of the blue, you draw an amazing picture of a tank and tell me you made it to put on his grave, the man who always had a war story to tell…
…you act like you knew him.
Maybe I talk about him more than I realize. Maybe the family lore of this man who was our hero is that strong and present. Or maybe he whispers to you when the rest of us are not listening. Maybe God tucked a little bit of him inside of you before you became ours…so that he could still be ours, too.
Visiting Great-Grandpa, a.k.a. “Dooda.” My daughter was the only great-grandchild he ever got to meet, but somehow I think he and my son are good friends.
Last week I received my first proof of my upcoming children’s book, Absolute Mayhem. And while there are still a few minor changes that need to be made, I’m a little giddy when I tell you it looks AWESOME! Like, it’s a real book and everything. So that means it will be ready for the masses so soon that it’s not even funny.
Yet as fantastic as it was, I winced twice when I finally saw my work in all its viral glory. First, my last name was spelled incorrectly. Sigh. It wasn’t a big surprise. It happens often, not only with strangers, but at my children’s school and even with friends I have known for years. Still, there is a little deflation that comes with seeing it misspelled at those times when it kind of matters to you. But I quickly got over that. I mean, it’s Scary Mommy. Continue reading “That Sneaky F-Bomb”→
Guess where I am today? Well, technically I am where I am just about every day. Home. But virtually, I’m all over the place.
Remember a few weeks ago when I told you my writing would be appearing in some kind of big places in the near future, but I wouldn’t tell you where? Well, I know you have all been on pins and needles since. So today is the day I relieve your suspense. And you get a two-for-one deal, because unbeknownst to me, BOTH places are featuring my articles on the very same day! Continue reading “Guess Where I Am Today?”→
Last week, my grandparents’ old house went on the market. It has been inhabited by another family for almost twenty years now, yet every time I drive by it, I still think of it as Grandma and Grandpa’s house…despite the many renovations. My mom, my aunt and I decided to go to the open house, to see what had changed and what had stayed the same. And perhaps just to be there one last time, now that my Grandpa is gone and my Grandma is mostly lost within her own mind. The following is my reflection on that experience.
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As I turned the familiar door knob, I could almost picture the sign on the door that said, “Back Door Guests Are Best.” It was the exact same door knob that squeaked a bit. The one I had turned so many times before. The one that opened up to the small galley kitchen, the sound of KMOX talk radio, the smell of Virginia Slims, and the sight of Grandma drinking her instant coffee or Grandpa reading the paper. But this time, the door opened up to a scene totally unfamiliar to me. Continue reading “I Used to Know This House”→
That phrase, said by a friend of mine, was preceded by a joke about my daughter thinking the entirety of an empty pitcher of beer had been consumed by only me at our church’s Oktoberfest this past weekend. For the record, I did not consume the entire pitcher of beer by myself. I only had one-third of it…and one-third of another…and another. Um, so technically, yeah. I had a whole pitcher of beer. But not THAT SPECIFIC whole pitcher. Hey, it only makes sense. I had a third each to celebrate my German roots, my Irish roots, and my Catholic roots. All my roots like to drink. Continue reading “I Won’t Blog About You”→
Only my husband would qualify that as good news. Because he knows what a few more gray hairs mean: he has moved one step closer to being my dream man.
Why?
Very simply stated, I have an unhealthy attraction to old men.
Is this seat taken? Because this would be the cutest beer I would ever have. photo credit: Hindrik S via photopincc
Sometimes it’s more of an adoration, akin to how others might fawn over a baby duckling and a kitten being friends, or squeal at the sight of miniature infant-sized hiking boots. I mean, those boots are exactly.the.same in every way, but just tinier. I never get over it. Just in the way I never get over the overwhelming urge to snuggle with just about every adorable elderly man I see. When my husband and I took a trip to Ireland just over a year ago, I became exhausted from practicing the immense restraint that was needed to NOT hug all the cute old men who seem to overpopulate the country. As I observed:
Cute old men strolling/walking their dogs/riding bikes. These guys are everywhere in Ireland. Everywhere. And one thing you might not know about me is that I am a tad obsessed with cute old men, especially if they are riding bikes, walking dogs, or strolling in little Irish tweed caps. […] I move that we need more of these cute old men on the streets of America. Here, they are all behind the wheels of cars, decreasing the cuteness factor, as well as the safety for all drivers in the vicinity. I may try to start an organization that works to put new shiny bikes in the hands of cute old men everywhere. It would be a step closer to my utopia.
I can’t help it. A cute old man will make me smile every time. Unless he makes me cry…because he can’t open a door, or finally learns how to read, or has to move away from his little three-year-old neighbor and best friend.
So there’s that.
But what is more perplexing is that in addition to being a sucker for the elderly male persuasion, I also tend to focus my crushes on them as well. My list of celebrities who do it for me are all eligible for AARP benefits:
Steve Carell, age 52 – It started with The Office, but he locked down my heart as Gru in Despicable Me. Who knew big-nosed bald guys with dogs named Kyle got me hot and bothered?
Tom Hanks, age 58 – I have never not loved him. Even when he was in Joe Versus the Volcano. And I used to like Helen Hunt until she didn’t go back to him after he had survived a bagillion years on a deserted island, only thinking of her, in Cast Away. Now I just think “stupid wench” whenever I see her.
Tony Shalhoub, age 60 – I’m not sure if it’s really Tony Shalhoub I have a crush on or his legendary character, Adrian Monk. Either way, I’m fishing for an oldie. I spent a lot of Friday nights with Monk. A lot. It was a blessing and a curse.
The Happy Couple – Me and Micky
Micky Dolenz, age 69 – We all know I want to be his girlfriend. Not only is he older than my dad, but he is currently starring in a play called Comedy Is Hard, where he plays an 84-year-old retired comedian in a old folks home. If that doesn’t have heartthrob written all over it, I don’t know what does.
He’s like the Leonardo DiCaprio of the 19th century
Nathaniel Hawthorne, dead – When I used to teach The Scarlet Letter to high school students, I often referred to this revered American author as “Hottie Hawthorne.” I am pretty sure that had I lived in the early to mid-1800’s, I would have gladly brandished the mark of a sinner for a little sumpin’-sumpin’ with this wizard of words.
So finding a few more gray hairs was indeed good news for my husband. In my eyes, it just means he is getting hotter. I can’t wait to see how he is going to look in that tweed cap and sweater vest I’m going to get him for his birthday.
Only my husband would qualify that as good news. Because he knows what a few more gray hairs mean: he has moved one step closer to being my dream man.
Why?
Very simply stated, I have an unhealthy attraction to old men.
Is this seat taken? Because this would be the cutest beer I would ever have. photo credit: Hindrik S via photopincc
Sometimes it’s more of an adoration, akin to how others might fawn over a baby duckling and a kitten being friends, or squeal at the sight of miniature infant-sized hiking boots. I mean, those boots are exactly.the.same in every way, but just tinier. I never get over it. Just in the way I never get over the overwhelming urge to snuggle with just about every adorable elderly man I see. When my husband and I took a trip to Ireland just over a year ago, I became exhausted from practicing the immense restraint that was needed to NOT hug all the cute old men who seems to overpopulate the country. As I observed:
Cute old men strolling/walking their dogs/riding bikes. These guys are everywhere in Ireland. Everywhere. And one thing you might not know about me is that I am a tad obsessed with cute old men, especially if they are riding bikes, walking dogs, or strolling in little Irish tweed caps. […] I move that we need more of these cute old men on the streets of America. Here, they are all behind the wheels of cars, decreasing the cuteness factor, as well as the safety for all drivers in the vicinity. I may try to start an organization that works to put new shiny bikes in the hands of cute old men everywhere. It would be a step closer to my utopia.
I can’t help it. A cute old man will make me smile every time. Unless he makes me cry…because he can’t open a door, or finally learns how to read, or has to move away from his little three-year-old neighbor and best friend.
So there’s that.
But what is more perplexing is that in addition to being a sucker for the elderly male persuasion, I also tend to focus my crushes on them as well. My list of celebrities who do it for me are all eligible for AARP benefits:
Steve Carell, age 52 – It started with The Office, but he locked down my heart as Gru in Despicable Me. Who knew big-nosed bald guys with dogs named Kyle got me hot and bothered?
Tom Hanks, age 58 – I have never not loved him. Even when he was in Joe Versus the Volcano. And I used to like Helen Hunt until she didn’t go back to him after he had survived a bagillion years on a deserted island, only thinking of her, in Cast Away. Now I just think “stupid wench” whenever I see her.
Tony Shalhoub, age 60 – I’m not sure if it’s really Tony Shalhoub I have a crush on or his legendary character, Adrian Monk. Either way, I’m fishing for an oldie. I spent a lot of Friday nights with Monk. A lot. It was a blessing and a curse.
The Happy Couple – Me and Micky
Micky Dolenz, age 69 – We all know I want to be his girlfriend. Not only is he older than my dad, but he is currently starring in a play called Comedy Is Hard, where he plays an 84-year-old retired comedian in a old folks home. If that doesn’t have heartthrob written all over it, I don’t know what does.
He’s like the Leonardo DiCaprio of the 19th century
Nathaniel Hawthorne, dead – When I used to teach The Scarlet Letter to high school students, I often referred to this revered American author as “Hottie Hawthorne.” I am pretty sure that had I lived in the early to mid-1800’s, I would have gladly brandished the mark of a sinner for a little sumpin’-sumpin’ with this wizard of words.
So finding a few more gray hairs was indeed good news for my husband. In my eyes, it just means he is getting hotter. I can’t wait to see how he is going to look in that tweed cap and sweater vest I’m going to get him for his birthday.
Okay, so this post is kind of like a placeholder. I seemed to have forgotten to add “blogging” to my calendar this week, but I did add “randomly redecorating my bedroom,” which has totally been a time suck for the past three days. I almost decided to just ignore you all until next Tuesday, but it always feels like a slippery slope if I skip a week of publishing words on the internet. So this is what you’re getting.
But you know me. I’m going to give you the best damn placeholder I can.
First, BOOK UPDATE!!! (My favorite part.) I have officially finished illustrations for my upcoming children’s book. So, um, that means I, like, am really doing this. Holy crap on a cracker. I don’t have any of them scanned in to show you yet, but here is a photo I took a few weeks ago of me drinking beer while drawing. Yes, folks. When you read your children this book, you can now wonder how many illustrations I drew totally wasted.
This is totally appropriate.
This week I have a meeting to begin working on my new author website, which I will hopefully be sharing with everyone soon! Don’t worry…Are You Finished Yet? isn’t going anywhere. It’s just going to get a new baby sibling.
Second, my writing is going to be featured at some pretty big places in the coming weeks. Where, you ask? Well, you’re just going to have to wait and see. Suspense.built.
Third, the best thing that happened to me in the past week was that my brother and sister-in-law sent me the double feature DVD of Pee Wee’s Big Adventure AND Big Top Pee Wee. It’s like I didn’t even know my life was incomplete until it showed up on my doorstep. And I want to share some of the joy with you. You know you love this scene:
See? Best damned placeholder ever. Have a great rest of the week, folks!
Between recently attending a baby shower and visiting a friend and her newborn daughter, this post from a few years ago popped into my head this evening. And since I have devoted this week to finishing up illustrations for my upcoming book (woo hoo!!), I decided to call this one up again as my pinch hitter. And since most of my readers now weren’t around when I first posted this, it is very likely new to you.
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So I kind of have baby on the brain lately. I think I probably made my husband stop breathing with that statement, but mostly it is just because I have quite a few friends who are pregnant right now. Bringing new life into the world is filled with all kinds of land mines of excitement and frustration. And picking a name for your new bundle is just one of them. Continue reading “The Archive Is Alive: Dangerous Names”→
But you never knew him.
Are You Finished Yet? 