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New Year - New Blog

According to my poll, the consensus was to keep blogging.

So I will.

But I started a new blog, since I felt like this one was about my mother mostly.

Here's the link to the new one:

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Happy New Year

Now I don't normally do this resolution thing, but I just read an article called "Five Lessons Learned From Living in Paris" and all five things appealed to me.

1. Live a passionate life
Scott noticed that Parisians often turned mundane aspects of everyday life into something special.

2. Cultivate an air of mystery
Scott thinks the French get a bad rap for coming across as cold and aloof when they're simply very picky about who they open up to and how much they reveal about themselves.

3. Look presentable always
She had a very quick (routine): 'Le no makeup look' and a very easy hairstyle to follow. Her 10-item wardrobe allowed her to pick something really easily. She wouldn't agonize over what clothes to wear every day like so many of us do."

4. Don't forget the simple pleasures (and do not deprive yourself)
"I had dessert at least twice a day. I had it every day after dinner, and for tea every afternoon, I would get a crepe or something in the city. And I enjoyed my food."

5. Make life a formal affair
"They used their best china and their best crystal on a regular basis. ... They used the nicest things that they had on a daily basis and it elevated every experience that we had."

10 item wardrobe! I love that. I'm sure every piece is well made, fit perfectly, flatter her, and all 10 pieces go with everything else.

In 2012 I'm going to try to be more French.

But the sock monkey hat stays. Just sayin'.



Aurelia means golden. She was named after her father's mother. And while she was not a huge fan of the name, she came to terms with it later in life. I always thought it was pretty - like her.


On this last day of 2011, for my 400th blog entry, a tribute of memories to my Mom.

Sleeping with me when I had pneumonia for the first time when I was two.
All the clothes she sewed for me (that I ruined!). Her being happy that my sister wasn't "a tomboy", so she could have one girl who liked being dressed up. (It's still that way - my sister wore a dress to the funeral. I wore trouser jeans.)
Our Barbies being the envy of the neighborhood because of the clothes she sewed for them. Her sewing away in the windowless, concrete, steel doored "hurricane room" in Guam. (My dad ripened the bananas in that room.)
Her sense of humor. 
Her sense of adventure - a Florida girl who lived in Alaska - three times. And whose favorite place in the world was Hawaii. 
Giving us pie tins to bang when we lived in Kodiak to scare the bears away. You kids take these with you. (we never took them)
Making snow ice cream. You kids make sure that's not yellow snow.
The cookie book that had stars and notes next each of our favorites.
Every Christmas the tree would have a color theme - the blue tree, the gold tree...etc.

Her craftyness - ceramics; these giant grapes she made out of some poisonous smelling epoxy. The grapes were then wired to a driftwood "vine". You kids get out of the garage while I'm doing this.    
Beaded Christmas ornaments. Crocheted afghans and baby clothes.
These big plaques of peacocks and Hindu gods that her and Dad made - a kind of paint by number kit but with beads and sequins. You kids leave that all that stuff alone. 

Her "Indian" nose (a bump she claimed was from a Native American ancestor) - that some plastic surgeon offered to "fix" for her. She was greatly offended. 
Being able to tell when a cantaloupe was ripe even though she didn't eat them, yet could not pick out a good apple to save her soul. (she didn't eat those either) You kids eat those apples!
Having a knack for picking the hottest day of the year to do her canning.  
Her love of hosting a good party complete with pickle forks and shrimp dip. You kids get out of that dip!

We kids miss you. Thanks for being the best mom ever. 

Age nine. I love this "Dorothy" picture

With her beloved father

Twins! I'm sure she made those matching shirts. 1954

Dad with his adored 1955 Thunderbird - July 1955

Mom in St. Pete - 1955


Pins and Needles

Paper thin conviction
Turning another page
Plotting how to build myself to be
Everything that i am not at all.

Sometimes i get tired of pins and needles
Facades are a fire on the skin.
And i'm growing fond of broken people
As i see that i am one of them.

I'm one of them. 

I'm one of them.  

Oh why must i work so hard
Just so i can feel like the noble ones?
Obligations to my heart are gone
Superficial lines explain it all.

Sometimes i get tired of pins and needles
Facades are a fire on the skin.
Oh i'm growing fond of broken people
As i see that i am one of them.

Sometimes i get tired of pins and needles
Facades are a fire on the skin.
Oh and i'm growing fond of broken people
As i see that i am one of them.

I'm one of them.

I'm one of them. 
I'm one of them. 
I'm one of them.  Oh.


Achy Breaky Heart

Well, its official. I'm sad. (three weeks yesterday)

A different type of sad than when my dad died, maybe because that was unexpected. There he was, happy to be coming home next week and less than twelve hours later - dead.

This is a more tired, less crying, kind of sad. I don't want to do anything, like go to work. The thought of January, February, March, April all spread out in front of me with no time off is depressing. The two weeks I had off was spent with her dying and then all the stuff I needed to do.
No time to just rest.
To wallow.

Duke Hospice called me Tuesday to remind me (very gently) of their bereavement program.
I think I'll look into it. I don't want to get down the road and implode.

In other news:
I have lost 32 pounds since August. That's something I guess.
And I have a sock monkey hat.
But you knew that.

An Almighty Thud
We Were Promised Jetpacks

I lost my crown
When it hit the ground
With an almighty thud
I went to pick it up
And reveal my weaknesses to the crowd

And I lost my home
When I lost my throne
To a successor
With far more expansive plans
Than I ever did
I abdicated
[ Lyrics from: ]
You're the last thing I want
I'd love to stay here
You're the last thing I want
I'd love to live here

I sat in my castle
And I waited on news
From one final battle
That we couldn't afford to lose
And I whispered suddenly
My greatest fears to anyone who would hear me

You're the last thing I want
I'd love to stay here
You're the last thing I want
I'm going to stay here



The night before my mother died I dreamed of my next door neighbor (her father has a brain tumor).

[Real life]: I told my other neighbor M. that B's dad had the tumor. I assumed [bad idea every time] that M. knew since her son was taking care of B's dog. Of course M. had no idea. I thought about confessing to B. that I had told M.
But didn't. Until the dream.
And in the dream I confessed and we both cried in my car in my driveway. Later that morning I wondered if her dad had died too.
But she has not been home much for me to ask.

Yesterday morning I dreamed I took Lillie (my black cat) to an outdoor coffee shop. I held her in my arms, (this would NEVER happen in real life), and oddly enough, she was quiet (again - total dreamland). There were two dogs who were very interested in her, so I was trying to fend off the dogs and order coffee. When the coffee came, it was in a very tall, about three feet high, vase type contraption. The coffee was more like chocolate pudding and there was seafood in it. They assured me I would LOVE it.



Oh dear. I had a post. Or at least post ideas. Until I clicked "New Post" - or what is now the pencil icon in Blogger. will just have to muddle along with me I guess.


Happy Pagan Holidays, Solstice, Hanukkah, Christ-mass, etc., etc., etc.


Look what E. gave me! (sock monkey hat in case you can't see from the angle) I LOVE it. Our server at P.F. Changs (Jewish Christmas Eve) last night thought it was a bear, but it was dark in there.
He got a $10 tip for saying my dirty martini would be so dirty I'd need a cigarette afterwards. That and it is the pagan holidays.


I am STILL freakin' sick at three and 1/2 weeks.


Received the death certificates yesterday - zero "sanitized" copies. Not sure what I can do without those.

Had a nice Atkinsy breakfast of bacon and eggs. BACON!

Saw The Descendents last night (see Jewish Christmas Eve above). Excellent George Clooney gazing, but movie less funny than expected; seriously - could they not have given that woman some chapstick?!