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May 1

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My Gift Was The Present

I know, I know.  It’s been a while since I’ve written.  It’s not intentional.  I’ve gotten so busy living life that I haven’t really had a moment to capture the memories in writing.  In a way, it’s unfortunate because there have been some pretty exciting things…going to The Grammys as a guest of the Foo Fighters, an evening with Oprah and Tony Robbins in New York for Oprah’s Lifeclass on Tour…and most recently, attending a public talk given by His Holiness, The Dalai Lama.  I keep thinking, “What a year!”  And then I remind myself it’s only the first day in May.

Some of my friends asked me to share my experience from my time with The Dalai Lama, so I decided it might be a good idea to write a blog post since it is so truly special for me.  If you know anything about me, you probably know that I have a great deal of admiration and respect for His Holiness, The Dalai Lama.  Aside from my Buddhist beliefs and practices, I think he is a truly extraordinary human being and one of the loveliest people I have ever met.  Yes, I was lucky enough to have met him about a year and a half ago thanks to a dear friend who set up a private meeting with His Holiness.  It was truly one of the best moments of my life.  Life-changing, really.  He’s very kind, down to earth and has one of the most contagious laughs of anyone I’ve ever known.

Recently, His Holiness was in town giving a public talk on Finding Peace In Troubled Times.  I’ve heard him speak many times and like to attend with people who’ve never been to one of his talks.  Most find that regardless of your spiritual beliefs, his talks appeal to all people, not just Buddhists.  This time, two of my cousins and my niece joined me.  (I’d like to take this moment to tell everyone that my niece is my hero.  She is the wisest 17-year old I’ve ever known.  I’d like to be her one day.)

We arrived at The Long Beach Arena and were fully prepared to go through the tight security check…and a very long line.  As we were waiting, we talked about what to expect during and after the talk.  I’ve learned to accept that something big always happens to me when I see him.  I can’t explain it because each time it’s different and everyone has their own experience.  It could be anything…from clarity on a personal issue, to changing a relationship, etc.  My niece was wondering if she would be able to capture everything he said or if it would be too much information to process at once.  I told her the same thing my dear friend told me the first time I saw him, “Listen with your heart.”  I explained that whatever she was supposed to hear and learn would resonate with her and not to worry about the rest.  (Sometimes I should take my own advice.  You’ll understand in a minute.)

As we were talking, I looked into the parking lot and saw a man wearing a suit with a camera man walking behind him.  The two walked directly towards us.  I said, “Oh, look!  There’s Ted Chen.”  Ted Chen is a newscaster on NBC here in Los Angeles.  I don’t know him, but the tone of my voice seemed to indicate otherwise and so did his walk, because he came right up to me, stretched out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Ted Chen.”  I said, “I know.  I just said, ‘There’s Ted Chen – as if we’re old friends.’”  He smiled and said, “Well, now we are.”  He asked me if this was my first time seeing the Dalai Lama to which my cousins all jumped in and said, “Oh no, she sees him all the time!”  (Like we have a standing poker game every Friday night.)  He continued to ask me questions and asked if I would be willing to do an interview for NBC News.  Now I have to tell you, I have never had any big desire to be on television.  And it’s probably for that very reason that I have been selected for news interviews, talk shows, and who knows what else.  But, this was different.  This was for The Dalai Lama.  I would do just about anything for this man.  If he asked me to roll in mud and sing nursery rhymes, I’d probably do it.  The interview was longer than I had anticipated and I have no idea how much of it was used or aired.  I didn’t see it.  My old friend, Ted, asked me what it was about His Holiness that interests me, how it was meeting him (The Dalai Lama, not Ted)  and what I thought about the current political situation between Tibet and China.  I’ll admit, I was honored to have a platform to talk about The Dalai Lama and the good he does in the world.  But I was especially proud to speak out in support of His Holiness and how admirably he has responded to the political situation.  I also have realized that if China gets wind of my riveting two minute interview, my name could be flagged and  therefore, the closest I may ever get to China is PF Chang’s.

Once inside the arena, we were sitting in our seats.  We were fairly close to the stage as we had floor seats.  I’ve found that it doesn’t matter where you sit.  When you’re in the presence of this great man, you feel like you’re the only person in the room.  As we were waiting, a woman in a blue suit with a name tag walked up to us and asked, “Do you have a question for His Holiness?”  My cousin (who’s not the least bit shy) enthusiastically pointed in my direction and replied, “She does!”  I did my best to come up with a meaningful question…and the woman said, “It doesn’t mean he’s going to answer your question.”  I must admit, given the year I’ve had so far, there was no doubt in my mind he would answer my question.  The question was, “What is the single most important thing to practice when developing compassion?”

His Holiness gave a candid, heartfelt, unrehearsed talk in front of 10,000 people.  He was as warm and sincere (and funny) as always.  At the end of the talk, his translator said, “Your Holiness, we have some questions from the audience.”  His Holiness nodded and waited for the question.  “What is the single most important thing…”  Suddenly, I felt three sets of eyes staring at me and when I looked to my left, there was my family looking right at me with huge smiles on their faces.  I grabbed my phone and started to video tape his response.

Now, this is important…when I started to record his response, I was so fixated on the phone and making sure I had a good shot.  My intention was to listen to his response at home so I could really digest it.  That was my intention.  But here’s the thing, my life lesson (aside from patience) is detachment.  As I was (sort of) listening to his response, I thought, “You know better.  You should NOT be recording this.  You should be in the moment, listening to his response.  You should be present.”  I continued to record it.

The next day, I set aside some time to watch the video.  Out came the phone.  I searched for the video and nothing.  There was absolutely nothing.  It was as if I never even tried to record his response.  There was my lesson.  I was so focused on the outcome, I missed what was happening when he was answering my question.  I couldn’t help but laugh.  After all, I kind of “deserved” it.  But it wasn’t the end of the world.  I had three people I could ask to recap the question.  By the way, I knew I was in trouble when the first one said, “I don’t know what he said, I was watching you record his answer.”  Ok, so lesson learned.  Do NOT get caught up in the outcome.  Enjoy the present moment and let the rest go.

I do believe that when we learn from our experiences/mistakes (REALLY learn, not “text book” learn), sometimes we still get what we want or we get a second chance.  For me, it came pretty quickly.  The next day, I was reading The Dalai Lama’s Official Website and saw there was a recap of the talk posted on his home page.  I started to read it and thought about scrolling to the bottom to see if they included the Q&A.  Nope, I learned my lesson.  I stayed present and kept reading.  As I got towards the bottom of the page, I saw it – the answer to my question.  Right there.  In writing.  I was thrilled (and grinning from ear to ear).  You can read the summary of the talk by clicking here.

So I guess the biggest thing I’ve learned from this experience (and The Grammys and Oprah) is to be more present and not worry about documenting the experiences.  I don’t know how or if it will impact my blog.  I’m still trying to sort that out.  But I’m grateful.  Grateful for all of it, really.  I am fully aware of how fortunate I am to have these tremendous opportunities and realize there’s more to come.  But I’m going to work at staying present and enjoy the moment.  I’m finding it’s really not that difficult (and a lot more fun that I ever could have imagined).

Feb 21

Re-LENT-less

Yesterday, I received the following email from my mother…

“Wednesday is Ash Wednesday – the beginning of Lent.  No meat on Fridays until after Easter which is April 8th.  This is the time to reflect on our lives. If you don’t plan on giving up something for Lent, make it up by being kind to someone.  Open the door for an elderly person.  Say hello to someone that you might not say hello to.  Forgive someone.   Make an effort to call or see someone that you don’t see often. Although you may not believe anymore, rest assured that God has provided you with good health good friends and lots of love.  If you take one day to say ‘thank you’ by being kind to someone, the Lord will bless you ten times fold.  Love, Mom”

Today, I decided to publish the official Maternal translation…

Wednesday is Ash Wednesday – the beginning of Lent.  (I know you’ve been a Buddhist for fifteen years, but I’m sure it’s just a phase.  If not, you owe me back tuition for all the years I sent you to Catholic school.  Comprende?)  No meat on Fridays until after Easter which is April 8th.  (If I have to suffer, you have to suffer.  It’s part of the Mother-Child Suffering Act.  I wrote it when you and your brother were kids.)  This is the time to reflect on our lives.  (Have you been kind to your mother?).  If you don’t plan on giving up something for Lent, make it up by being kind to someone (like your mother).  Open the door for an elderly person (like your mother).  Say hello to someone that you might not say hello to (like your mother).  Forgive someone (and then buy your mother a thank you gift.  Spring is coming.  How about a new handbag?)  Make an effort to call or see someone that you don’t see often (like your mother.)  Although you may not believe anymore (which I don’t recommend unless you’ve recently become a fan of extreme heat and a guy named “Satan”), rest assured that God has provided you with good health, good friends and lots of love.  (Feel that?  That’s me turning up the guilt.)  If you take one day to say “thank you” by being kind to someone (like your mother), the Lord will bless you ten times fold. (If not, that’s between you and God,  I just hope he doesn’t ask me for my opinion.) Love, Mom

 

Jan 19

The Garners

 

On Jan 18, 2012, at 4:27 PM, Maggi wrote:
The garners were just here.  They had a bet on your age.  The young one said 25.  The other guessed 28.  So I told them the truth.  “26.”  You have good genes.

 

On Jan 18, 2012, at 4:28 PM, Gina wrote:
Who are the Garners?

 

On Jan 18, 2012, at 4:30 PM, Maggi wrote:
The guys that do the lawn.  Gardners.

 

On Jan 18, 2012, at 4:31 PM, Gina wrote:
I believe the correct name is “gardeners,” Charo.

 

On Jan 18, 2012 at 4:32 PM, Maggi wrote:
Oops.  My roots are showing.

 

On Jan 18, 2012 at 4:33 PM, Gina wrote:
One more thing…are the Garners in any way related to the “Chin” Splints?

 

On Jan 18, 2012 at 4:36 PM, Maggi wrote:
Jess.

 

 

Dec 29

11 Things I Learned In 2011

  1. Tylenol PM does not specify which PM.
  2. Meditating and medicating can have a similar effect.  I prefer the one that comes without a hangover.
  3. There is no plus to Google+.
  4. Watching The Real Housewives makes me feel good about myself.  (My cousin says the same thing about Hoarders.)
  5. Illness, misfortune and a series of disappointments can make you question everything and feel as if you’re being broken.  But if you can just hold on long enough, even if only by a thread, you just might discover that you’re being broken open.
  6. God doesn’t hate me.  He just acts like it.  (See #5…just the first part)
  7. If you’re old enough to have kids who text using emoticons (or have outgrown using emoticons), you probably shouldn’t use them either.  You wouldn’t wear a shirt that reads, “Team Edward,” would you?
  8. There’s a saying, “Trouble comes to pass, not to stay.”  If you’ve met some of my friends, then you know to invite trouble to stay.
  9. Being called a goddess is no longer a compliment (thanks to Charlie Sheen).
  10. Never take a housekeeping job with Schwarzenegger.
  11. There are really 15 things I learned, not 11.
  12. Everyone is a little bit crazy.  Some more than others…and you know who you are.
  13. People will always hurt and disappoint you, but the thing to remember is that most people don’t wake up in the morning with the intention of hurting you.  They act based on their own limitations and needs.  (See #12)
  14. The one thing missing from the new iPhone 4s is a red pen to correct all the typos in the text messages I receive.  I mean, if you can’t take the time to proof a text, should I really take the time to respond?  (I’m talking to you, repeat offenders!)
  15. When you start a blog, a shift takes place in your relationships.  People make demands about what you can and cannot write about them…and if you don’t mention them specifically by name, they question whether or not you’re referring to them.  So let me settle this once and for all.  If you’re one of these people wondering if I’m writing about you, the answer is “probably.”

Dec 1

The Birthday Card

I’ve noticed that just about every family I’ve ever known has a “go to” person.  You know, the one that everyone counts on…sometimes this person is called “the strong one,” “the responsible one,” or in my case, “Gina.”  One of my responsibilities is to buy last minute gifts for family members and the occasional birthday card.  We have a close family friend named Ida.  She’s one of my mom’s closest friends.  In a lot of ways they are like sisters – the good, the bad and the bickering.  Ida has always been considered a part of our family and has spent many birthdays and holidays with us.   One year, we were celebrating my brother’s birthday.  He was probably in his mid-twenties at the time.  Ida arrived with a gift, but had forgotten to buy a card and asked me to run out and get one.

A few minutes later, I grabbed my brother and said, “Come with me.  I’ll explain later.”  I filled my brother in on my plan – he just listened and nodded.  He had one job and it was to stick close by when we got back to my parents’ house.  I told him I would give him the signal when the coast was clear and his mission would be complete.

When we got back, Ida saw me walk in with a small bag.  “Did you get it?” she asked.

“Yes, Ida.  Got it.  You have to sign it, but he’s right there, so I’m just going to cover it so he can’t see what we’re doing.  Sign it and I will take care of the rest.”

She quickly signed the white part of the card that was showing with only room for a brief note and her name.  She quickly wrote, “Love, Ida”

I gave my brother “the look,” grabbed the card, put it in the envelope, sealed it and gave it back to Ida to add to the gift she had brought for him.

Hours later, we were all sitting around the dining room table when my mom announced it was time to open presents.  My brother opened one of the cards and started to read it out loud.  The card went something like this…

“Happy Birthday to the man I love,

My life changed for the better the moment I met you…”

My mom instantly sighed and said, “Oh my God, that is SO ROMANTIC!”  She looked at my brother’s girlfriend with great approval as his girlfriend looked back, smiled politely and said, “That’s not from me.”  My mom thought she was just being shy and continued with her words of encouragement as she made a mental wedding guest list in her head.

My brother continued to read the card without cracking a smile as I scanned the table watching faces filled with looks of love, admiration, and a whole lot of confusion.  (I’m pretty sure at one point my mom had that “I’m going to be a grandmother” look on her face.)  At the end, my brother said in a sentimental tone, “Love, Ida.”

The table went silent and I sat there with great pride.  Ida giggled thinking my brother was kidding.  My mother said, “No way!  That’s not from Ida.”  My brother insisted it was until my mother demanded to see the card.  (Remember that white spot of the card that I had Ida sign earlier?)  There it was…in writing.  My mother just about flew across the table.  Imagine as a mother discovering that one of your best friends just gave your twenty-something year-old son a card professing her love.  She shook the card at my father and said, “DID YOU SEE THIS?  DID YOU SEE THIS?”  My dad looked at me and immediately knew.  He started laughing and within moments everyone was laughing as they realized what had just happened.

Since then, no one has ever asked me to buy another card…including Ida.  And if you’re wondering, yes I got into big trouble from Maggi…but it was worth it!

Nov 11

4 Comments

The Best Medicine

I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad these days.  He passed away five years ago after a long illness.  He was strong-willed, sarcastic, convicted (not as a criminal, just in his beliefs), and driven.  If we’ve met, I’m sure you’ve already picked up on the similarities.  I’m definitely John’s daughter.

I think if anything positive came from my father’s illness, it was finally seeing his capacity to give, express and receive love. He was a man’s man and for his generation, showing emotion didn’t come easily or often.

My dad suffered from kidney failure and was on a list for a transplant.  Every so often, he would have to go to the hospital for a series of tests to make sure he was still in the appropriate level of health to be eligible to receive a transplant.  After his tests, my family would meet up for dinner and celebrate another year of “good” health.  But this time was different.  I was waiting for my mom to call and tell me where and what time we would meet.  Instead, I got a call that went something like this…

“Gina, it’s Mom.  You need to come to the hospital.  Your dad has to have an emergency triple bypass.  The doctor is here.  I have to go.”  And she hung up.

Now, if you paid attention to the details of the call you’d notice there’s no mention of what hospital and back then, my mom hadn’t bought into the idea of having a cell phone.  Also, my dad didn’t have his tests at the same hospital every time.  It varied.

I called my brother to let him know what was going on and said, “I’ll call you when I find them.”

Three hospitals later, I found them.  My brother arrived shortly after.  We went into the room…well, it was more like a curtain pulled around a hospital bed.  My dad was being prepped for surgery.  There was no time for a room.  It was awful.  He had to lie still on his back as the docs could not risk him sitting up.  They said they were surprised he was actually still alive (which is very encouraging and just what you want to hear when someone is getting ready to crack open your chest and take out your heart).  We were all terrified.  I can only imagine how much harder it was for my dad.  A nurse came in and said, “We’re getting ready to take him.  It’s time to say your goodbyes.”  I’m always amazed at the things people say without thinking about the impact it has on others.  GOODBYE?  As in FOREVER?  I was not at all prepared for this moment.  None of us were.

My mom stood next to my dad with her hand on his right shoulder, my brother stood next to her and I stood next to him.  My dad (who rarely said these first three words) said, “I love you.  Don’t worry about me.”  His voice was cracking and tears started falling from the corners of his eyes.  The three of us did our best to be strong for him, but there was no chance of us hiding our fear or sadness.  We were all crying…much like I am now as I write this post.  Then my dad looked at my brother and I and said, “Listen to me.  If something happens to me, make sure you take care of your mom.”

Sobbing, I looked at my brother and said, “You hear that?  If something happens to Dad, you get Mom.”

Brandon immediately stopped crying, raised his voice at me and said, “WAIT A MINUTE!  WHY DO I GET MOM?”

“Because Mom’s going to need a place to live and I’m going to take the big screen tv.  It will never fit in your place.”

My mom and dad just looked at us in complete shock.  Then my mother grabbed my father by the collar of his hospital gown and said, “Listen to ME!  You can’t die!  Can’t you see?  Nobody wants me!”

It worked.  He came out of surgery just fine.  The bypass was a success, Brandon didn’t get Mom and I didn’t get the big screen tv.

That was the typical dynamic of my family.  No matter how tough things got, we always found a way to bring in humor.  I remember how much my dad laughed about it later.  I miss so many things about him, but one of the things I miss most is his laugh.  He had a great laugh and I especially loved when I knew he was laughing at something I said or did.  I miss him everyday and would give anything to talk to him again.  Given the last few years, I feel like he kind of owes me.  (He’d probably laugh at that too.)

Until next time…

Oct 27

4 Comments

When The Circus Came To Town

First off, I think I owe you an explanation as to why there wasn’t a blog post last week.  My mom and her husband were having some work done on their house and I offered to let them stay at my place.  Some said it was generous, others said it was brave, but most said it was good material for the blog.  In any case, they arrived on Thursday (the day I usually post).  I knew it wasn’t going to be a good day to blog.  Having my mom here is a little like having a toddler who brings her best friend and two very sweet and equally misbehaved dogs.  Instead of writing about the experience or a story related to the visit, I kept a timeline.  She doesn’t know about it, so I’m sure she’ll be just as surprised as the rest of you…

 

8:30am – Mom and crew are scheduled to arrive at any minute.

9:30am – Mom calls.  She’s running late.  No surprise.  She’s always late.  And let’s be honest, she was supposed to be here by 9am.  It’s 9:30am, I’ve managed to figure out she’s late.

10:20am - Mom shows up with donuts.  I can’t tell you the last time I had a donut, but they look delicious.  Suddenly, my personal meditation center turns into a three-ring circus.  There are loud voices, bright lights being turned on and off (think “light show”) and dogs barking and running around the house as if they are waiting to be lead by P.T. Barnum’s Ringmaster.  It’s complete chaos.  I binge on my first donut.  (Thankfully, I stop at one…but consider the others.)

10:27am – I post on Facebook that I feel like I’m running a daycare.  My status gets flooded with wise-ass comments from my friends.  I think about getting new friends, but can’t stop laughing…so I decide to keep all of them.

10:45am – I leave for an appointment.  I sit in complete silence in the car and thank God for knowing that children might not have been the best thing for me even when I thought I knew better.

12:30pm – I get home, walk in the house and notice the dining room is filled with boxes and bags.  Same with the kitchen.  I realize they are NEVER leaving.

1:56pm – I tell my mom I’m going upstairs to return some phone calls.

1:58pm – Mom yells from downstairs, “ARE YOU ON THE PHONE?”  I hang up in the middle of dialing and walk to the staircase where she can see me, “Not yet.  What do you need?”  Mom continues to yell, “I DON’T NEED ANYTHING.  WHAT ARE THESE PLANTS IN YOUR BACKYARD?  THE TALL ONES IN THE PLANTER WITH THE ORANGE FLOWERS.”  I answer, “Cannas.”  Mom says in her outdoor voice, “HAVE YOU SEEN THEM?  COME LOOK AT THEM!”  I answer, “Yes, I’ve seen them.  I live here.”  (Mom looks annoyed.)

2:30pm – I walk downstairs.  One dog is sleeping, while the other is trying to sneak upstairs (looking to get into something).  Mom’s husband is sleeping and Mom is crocheting and humming “Pop Goes The Weasel.”  I go right back upstairs.

3:06pm – I walk downstairs…again.  Nothing has changed except Mom is now singing the theme from Rocky (Gonna Fly Now).  I think about putting my head in the oven, but there’s probably a box or bag in there too.

3:24pm – Mom asks me, “Have you seen the George Harrison documentary?  I was told I would like it because I’m such a big Beatles fan.”  Excitedly, I say yes and put it on (because I too, am obsessed with George Harrison.  This is going to be GREAT!).

3:26pm – Mom asks, “Is George Harrison dead?  He died???”  I realize I’m adopted and must begin the search for my real mom.

5:48pm – Mom keeps staring at me.  I think it’s creepy.  She must know that I’ve discovered she’s not my real mom.

6:06pm – Mom asks, “What do you snack on at night?”  I say, “Nothing.  I don’t usually snack in the evening.  Are you guys hungry for dinner?”  Mom says, “No.  We don’t snack either.  Do you like popcorn?”

6:07pm – I wonder who this woman is who looks and sounds just like my mother.

6:54pm – I am upstairs packing for a trip.  I hear popcorn popping.

7:02pm – I smell burnt popcorn.

7:06pm - I hear my mom say to her husband that she can’t climb stairs anymore.

8:00pm - My mom climbs upstairs with popcorn that looks like it’s been braised in butter.  I taste a piece.  It’s delicious.  I make her leave and take the artery clogging popcorn with her.

9:36pm - I say goodnight.  My mom offers to take me to the airport the next morning and then says, “I’ll let you drive yourself, because I make you nervous.”  I’d just like to point out that I have NEVER said that my mom makes me nervous.  I’m convinced this is just her way to get out of driving whenever she is with me.  Something my REAL mother would NEVER do.

All in all, it was good visit.  When I got back from my trip, the circus had packed up and moved to the next town.  If I were you, I’d check my doors.

Until next week…

Oct 13

Spaghetti Rules

It seems my mother has really enjoyed and embraced this blog.  So much so that she has started submitting her own stories.  This is one of them…

You were about three or four and I sat you down and told you that you had to do what Mommy and Daddy said because those were the rules.  You asked me when you wouldn’t have to follow the rules anymore.  I said, “When you’re a big girl and have your own house.”

About an hour later, you came in with your handbag on your shoulder and a little suitcase.  You had your toothbrush, pajamas, money, a hairbrush, and a toy lipstick.  Of course, you also had your Baby Tender Love doll.   I asked where you were going and you said, “There are too many rules in this house, so I’m leaving.”

I said, “Oh, Mommy is going to miss you” and I pretended to cry.  Then I said, “Ok, if you want to run away, I’ll tell Daddy your gone.  Will you send us a letter?”

You said, “Ok.”

Calling your bluff, I waved to you.  You opened the front door and it was pitch black outside.  The front door was near the kitchen where I was making dinner.  You turned up your nose and asked what I was cooking.  I said, “Your FAVORITE.  Spaghetti.”

“Sssghetti?  Hmmmmm…Ok, I’ll just stay for dinner and leave tomorrow.”

The subject never came up again.

Then when you were in your twenties, you bought your first house and made your own rules.  It broke my heart this time, as the tears were real.  I cried for six months before I could accept that my baby girl was all grown up and did not need her mom.  As a mother, you work so hard to teach your children to be independent and self-sufficient.  You feel so proud when they do.  But it’s so very hard to let go.  I have so many wonderful memories of you.  You have been one of God’s special blessings.  You were worth the 52 hours of labor pains.  I would do it again.

Sweet, right?  Maybe next week, I’ll tell you MY version of the story…

Oct 6

2 Comments

Plucky In Pink

I know I promised to tell you about the time my mom made me a fairy princess costume.  I was 30.  Kidding.  I was four and in pre-school.

I’ve always been very girly and pink is my favorite color.  So imagine how excited I was to hear that not only would I be a fairy princess, but my costume would be pink and I’d have a wand and wings and a mask and tights and a tutu (deep breath) and ballet slippers.  I don’t know that I’d have that same excitement and reaction now…unless it was a designer gown in hot pink with sparkly gold jewelry and pretty makeup and good hair and a cool clutch (deep breath) and a hot pair of gold strappy heels.  (Ok, so maybe I WOULD get that excited.)

It was Halloween and there was an annual costume party for the kids and parents.  My mom was very involved at school.  She was great about showing up for everything.  It was such a great example to set and meant so much to me.  I remember how excited I would get when she would show up at any school function.  That was MY mom!

All the kids were mingling, showing off their costumes…clowns, pirates, super-heroes, you name it.  I was so proud of my costume and couldn’t wait to show it off.  Remember, my mom made it for me.  To me, it was the best costume EVER.

The party took place in a big hall. There were stations with various activities and places where you could “trick or treat” and get a lunch-sized paper bag filled with candy.  There I was in my costume, minding my own business, following the instructions the teacher had given us.  All of the sudden, I heard a boy’s voice say, “Look Mommy, a pink fly!”  I whipped around, smacked him on the head with my wand and said, “I’M A FAIRY PRINCESS, DAMMIT.” 

Now, let’s take a moment to study the photos…

The first photo (above) is of me with my mask on, but you can’t really get the full effect of the costume.  However, as I look at the photo of the little boy sitting next to me, I can’t help but wonder if he’s the one who called me a pink fly.  Look at his face.  He looks like a brat, doesn’t he?  (I honestly don’t remember this kid…if it’s you, you look like you were a brat.)

The second photo is of me in (almost) full costume.  The mask is off, so there’s the proof that it really is me.

But the third photo…well, I’m thinking this was the kid who said it.  And if I’m right, then I owe this kid a huge apology.  It’s clear I should have smacked his mother for making him wear this costume.  What IS this costume? 

Sep 29

Hands Down

Ok, so I know I promised you a fairy princess story, but something happened yesterday and I need your help.  I called my mom this morning and the conversation went a lot like this…

Me: Hey, I was just looking for the fairy princess photo for this week’s blog and I can’t find it.  Do you have it?

Maggi: Let me look…(Cue “the light hits of yesterday, today and tomorrow”)…I’m back.  So far, I’ve only found boxes with pictures of your brother.  I have SO MANY pictures of him.  I can’t get over it.  Boxes and boxes.

Me: (Crickets)

Maggi: Are you sure you don’t have it?  I think I gave it to you.  (This is the “go to” phrase in my family when we can’t find something.  “I think I gave it to you.”)

Me: Yes, positive.  But I did manage to come across a photo of me dressed as a clown…well, I think I was dressed as a clown…now I’m beginning to wonder.  In the photo, I have a mustache.  Why would you give me a mustache?  You know you had a girl, right?

Maggi: Because you wanted it.

Me: I also wanted a Porsche.  Why didn’t I get the car?  AND, I don’t think I ever asked for a mustache.

Maggi: I know.  You idolized your dad and he had just grown one.

Me: You don’t love me.

Maggi: You’re right.

Now here’s where you come in…see the photo above?  I’m going to guess I was maybe three in that pic.  See my hands?  Now see a third much larger hand?  Is it me or does it look like she’s trying to hold my hand down?  I also want to clarify…I know my mom said I wanted it because my father had one.  But do you really think my mother was married to Super Mario?  So you tell me, who REALLY wanted the mustache?

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