Sweet Sunday

For all of you that take me The Way I Am quirks and all....

For that, I am forever grateful.

Have a sweet Sunday.

Peace - Rene

Basically, Mom...

Whiteboard artwork by my daughter

Basically, Mom....

That's pre-teen for "let me dumb this down for you, pre-geriatric"

I am getting a lot of "basically, Moms" these days

Basically, Mom:

• No one wears sneakers and socks...seriously
• Technically everyone will actually be at the sleepover
• I was tired so logically I didn't do my home work
• I am completely tired of recorder lessons
• I am utterly disgusted with beef stew
• You are practically ruining my life by making me wear this.
• Clearly, you don't care about my life because you wont buy me...whatever...

Talking to my daughter these days is a lot like listening to SuperTramp.

So much so that I start saying every damn logical song word that I know, while she's wailing away....  responsible, practical, clinical, fanatical, liberal, intellectual, cynical.

"Maaaaa.....!"

"What?"

"Wouldja stop?"

"Listen Missy....When I was young I thought that life was so wonderful"....

"You're basically losing it Mom, Seriously!"

"I know sweetheart, it sounds absurd"...

"But, please tell me who I am".

"Currently, Mom, I am not sure"...

"Aww the questions run so deep for such a simple mind..."

"I'm totally walking away from you now, Mom"....

"You'll be back, Missy.......eventually"

Peace - Rene

Free Association Friday!

Ann, from Ann's Rant's: Confessions of A Work Week Widow so graciously invited me to hang out at the cool kids table! ( click here)

Please stop by, check it out and comment so I don't look like a loser. :)

If you do I will give you frontsies.

TWSS

Peace - Rene

Random Shrine

My daughter's latest...

The Shrining

It's amazing what you find in your camera.

My daughter has taken to building little groupings of items and photographing them all throughout the house.

I refer to this as shrining, as they often look like those roadside shrines that you see near a fatal accident site.

Her shrines pop up like mushrooms and don't really seem to have a theme, just whatever objects happen to be her favorite things of the moment.

I am surprised that there is not a picture of Taylor Swift and the phrase "Basically, Mom"...involved in this grouping.

Maybe that's a good thing.

I am noticing that she has used the bathroom throw rug as a background for this composition.

If you look very closely you will notice toothpaste stains.

Bet you wish you had smell-o-vision.

The shrines don't really bother me, right now, so I just let her be her little creative self.
She's an only child and a bit on the arty side so this is a form of entertainment for her, and most likely a way of escaping my jibberish. :)

What I find interesting about her shrines are these intricate little stone towers that look on the verge of tipping but somehow, do not.

Is this some sort of a sign, I wonder? Or is she just really good at Jenga?

Peace - Rene

Rene, Please!

I was one heckuva handful, an unholy mess of a child.

If there was an itch I'd scratch it. A rule, I'd break it. 

A 50 foot HAM radio antenna, I'd climb it...

And greet my mother with a hearty hellooo through the outside of her bedroom window.

"Hi, Rene...Oh good God,Rene, Please!!!!!...stay right there...don't move...Mommy is coming right out!"

My mother went from 30 to 60 in 3.5 seconds...flat. Years that is.

And I would do my best in the next few years to keep my foot on the gas.

Like getting my stomach pumped three times in the span of a year.

• yummy orange flavored St. Joseph Aspirin
• 6-12 bug spray sprayed into my mouth like Binaca
• Airplane glue...I don't remember this.
  

Fortunately we lived right next door to a doctor who practiced out of his home. Mom would just whisk me right over whenever I decided to "pull a death defying stunt", as my father put it. I remember the doctor, a giant of Italian descent, screaming at me

"Why you do this, you like the crazy?"

Yeah, me likey the crazy.

Rene, Please! you are going to kill me!, was my mother's constant lament. So much so that you would have thought it was my middle name.

Rene, Please don't:

• Try to get in the hammock by standing on your trike.
• Sit in the dryer.
• Use the clothesline as a slingshot (this is fookin awesome)
• Spin your toddler sister in the swivel chair and then make her walk.
• Put your sister in the window wells and then run off and play without her.
• Blow the pilot light out on the stove.
• Tell Sr. Anne she could get a boyfriend if she dressed fancier.
• Throw your peas and carrots down the heating grate.
• Bend the little triangular window in the car past the point of no return.
• Put your Barbies in that little drawer under the stove aka the broiler.
• Stick Barbie shoes up your nose.

These are just a few of my greatest hits.

You would think that when the time came for Kindergarten that my mother would breathe a heavy sigh of relief...

No chance, Sundance.

I was a Kindergarten truant. On my way to the bathroom I'd just make my way out of the school. I only lived a block or so away, so I knew the way home.

I was not welcomed very warmly, but my bottom sure was.

Oh, yeah, wooden spoon. 

I have a permanent divot.

Over time, I started to ease my foot off of the gas and Rene, please! was said in a more pleading manner.

Rene, please?

Now it's more Oh, Rene! or Reeeneee said with a slight note of disapproval.

It is not a coincidence that the children I most relate to in Kindergarten are the hellraisers.

I get them, where they are coming from and what to expect...and that is the unexpected.

That never changes.

And, together, we work on easing off of the gas.

"What a handful they are", I'd hear from another teacher.

Oh, them? Please!  Until they've climbed a 50 ft tower, they ain't nuthin...

Peace - Rene

Dippity-Do Dah...

Do you remember Dippity-Do?

It was a hair setting gel that my mother used to stockpile.

That's largely my fault because the first thing that I used to do whenever a fresh jar would enter into our home was to instantly put my finger into it, play with it and dig bobby pins into it. Ahhh the smell of it, ooohhh the color of it...and those bubbles! Honestly, people, how could you not? It would also make that oh so satisfying sluurp sound that scratched my little ADD itch. 

I totally had forgotten about it until I saw a jar of  it in a friends bathroom. I was sooo tempted...but I resisted, and man, let me tell you it took everything that I fookin' had. 

Gahh..Just to hear that sluurp again!

That's what...oh never mind...

The bathroom, for me, was an indoor playground/water park. Besides the Dippity Do and the sink there was so much other stuff in there to get my ass in trouble with: 

Jean Nate Body Splash. I took that as a command and poured a nice puddle of it on the bathroom floor and did as instructed. Splish, splash, now I smell like a tramp...(sing with me) My Grandma used to pronounce it exactly how it was spelled and put it on a par with Chanel #5. On humid days you can still smell it in the bathroom.

40 years later.

White Shoulders Powder - the one with that floor waxer sized puff- again a command, make those shoulders white. Puff away with wild abandon until the whole floor is covered with powder. Here's the best part, move your feet and see an outline of two perfect foot prints. Do this again until there are no more clean tiles on the floor. Your bathroom now smells like the early bird at Morrison's. 

"You're crazy, Liberace is a genius, you kids don't know good music", random Grandma quote.

Tampons - Tampons these days are gentle, petal soft, NASA engineered with GPS and aerodynamic... but back in the day they were nothing of the sort. Although I wasn't a user at the time, in my snooping/ research I found that they were simple white cardboard telescopic cylinders roughly the size of a cigar tube and just as hard. It was entirely possible to get a paper cut down there, and I wouldn't know a damn thing about that, honestly. The applicator was perfect for a pretend cigarette. And don't waste that tampon part. Make sure you put that in the toilet and watch it grow before your very eyes. Magic! Fun!... Hells yes it would clog the toilet but Dad wasn't going to give Mom any guff about that because it may have been that time of the month. Dad was no fool. Had the guy in the photo been around during my youth I'm sure we would be married to each other. That tampon gun is sick/cool.

Grandma's Hot Water Bottle - Well, that's what she called that contraption with the tubes that hung on the back of the bathroom door. "Keep away from that, child, you're liable to get sick", she warned me one day. Wisely, I took her advice. Rare for me.

"Who doesn't eat rye bread? A fool, that's who..." - Random Grandma 

Rose Petal fancy soap in a dish - That was for company. So that they would say Ohhh...little flower shaped soaps...how impressive, how classy, how utterly divine and then we'd be the talk of the town and be on everyone's A list forever. I used to steal/take them from other people's houses because they were meant for me anyway. Had an uncontrollable urge to bite them. Unlike my Dippity Do urge I don't have that desire anymore.

"Rene, whaddaya doin' on the porch? Invite your date in for a highball" - Random Grandma

Q-Tips - folks, I can't pass up a Q-tip. 

I think my g spot somehow ended up in my ear.

Eargasm.

I'm a pack a day user, but I'm considering the patch.

Don't make that face...and don't knock it till you've tried it.

That was just way too much sharing on my part.

I know... I need counseling.

But you'll never look at a Q-tip the same way again.

Prell - I received the ass beating of a lifetime for pouring an entire bottle down the tub drain. Wasn't there a pearl in it? It said so in the commercial.

Ma, I was just looking for the pearl...waah..I'm gonna write about this in my blog someday.

You'll see.

"I'll fix your wagon, good, Missy Miss"... - Random Grandma

Peace - Rene

Remember

The USS Arizona Memorial, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, 2004

The USS Arizona serves as the final resting place for many of the battleship's 1,177 crew members who lost their lives on December 7, 1941.

I honor them, and the many other women and men, who have served our country here today this Memorial Day.

Peace - Rene

TV Rewind - Felicity

Were you as infatuated with this series as much as I was?

Were you sad when it ended? And then you were a little happy again with Gilmore Girls...

And then that ended?

I give to you a well done video of the season 4 Ben/Felicity/Noel story arc.

The gorgeous music in the background is Sara Slean's Blue Parade. 

Enjoy!

And if for some reason you cannot view here's the link ( Felicity)

And I'll be back with the writing on Tuesday!

Don't say I never did nuthin' for ya, Cyg! :) :)

Peace - Rene

Jokes From Ma

My mother has gotten into the habit of  sending me jokes via e-mail, now that she is technologically saavy... she is the FWD queen

I have also received warnings to avoid underwire bras, marijuana flavored lollipops, plastic bottles and to boycott the new dollar coin....

And I must have every lol cat on the planet and sadly, I have broken every hug chain on the planet

She's even got her own Facebook page!

She's fly like that.

So here go the jokes folks ( they are clean):

Fifty Bucks 

Morris and his wife Esther went to the state fair every year, 
And every year Morris would say,

"Esther, I'd like to ride in that helicopter." 

Esther always replied, 
"I know Morris, but that helicopter ride is fifty dollars", 
"And fifty dollars is fifty dollars" 

One year Esther and Morris went to the fair, and Morris said, 
"Esther, I'm 85 ! years old". 
If I don't ride that helicopter, I might never get another chance.' 

To this, Esther replied, 
"Morris that helicopter ride is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars is fifty dollars." 

The pilot overheard the couple and said, 

"Folks I'll make you a deal. I'll take the both of you for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and don't say a word I won't charge you a penny"!

"But if you say one word it's fifty dollars." 

Morris and Esther agreed and up they went. 

The pilot did all kinds of fancy maneuvers, but not a word was heard. 
He did his daredevil tricks over and over again, 
But still not a word. 
When they landed, the pilot turned to Morris and said, 

"By golly, I did everything I could to get you to yell out, but you didn't. 
I'm impressed!" 

Morris replied, 
"Well, to tell you the truth, 
I almost said something when Esther fell out, 
But you know, 
fifty dollars is fifty dollars!"

Some Old Men Can Still Think Fast

One evening an old farmer decided to go down to the pond behind his orchard, as he hadn't been there for a while, and look it over.
 
He grabbed a five-gallon bucket  to bring back some fruit.
As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee.  
As he came closer, he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond.  
He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end.
 
One of the women shouted to him, "we're not coming out until you leave!'" 

The old man frowned, "I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond naked."

Holding the bucket up he said,
"I'm here to feed the alligator..."

Thanks Ma for the post!

Good Night Folks...I'll be back on Tuesday

Peace - Rene

The Heart of My Matter

"I was addicted to sayin' things and having them matter to somebody"

Doesn't that just pull your soul right through your chest?

When I first heard it I think I said "shut-up" in that, I totally fookin' grok kinda way.

It is a line from the movie "Waitress". 

Waitress wasn't a perfect movie. It's loaded with a lot of Hooterville clichés and by the book heart tugging moments, it's got Andy Griffith in it for cripes sakes.

But it is one of those movies that stick with you, even after it is over. 

You actually care about the characters and you get wrapped up in their lives.
And the pie recipes are hysterical. (have a slice here)

But that one line, buried nearly three quarters through the movie, just goosed me.

Yes, it is addicting to matter to someone.

To get a reaction from someone that they “get me” or that they value what I have said/written...

Even when they agree to disagree with me...

Well, that’s the most intoxicating thing in the world.

I am sincerely flattered that you all take the time to read my little scribblings, bad teenage poetry and the nonsensical ramblings of my lunatic mind.

I'm such an unholy mess of a girl, sometimes.

It's coming around to my one year anniversary of getting into this whole blog/writing experience and I have to say it's been a great year. I have learned so much about myself and have made friends with perfect strangers near and far.

And you really are perfect.

I have learned so much from you all, I'd list you here but...there you all are on my blogroll.

And there you are on my mind as you are:

Pacing around awaiting the birth of your child while looking for answers to the most difficult questions, writing/birthing a novel, surviving an accident while finding what was lost in India, riding the bus, being spectacular in Australia, ink monkeying around while working on your blues opera, dealing with the deli illiterate, sharing your sweet and timely cookie crumbs, making me wish for Wednesday,making martinis while fighting for your freedom to speak your mind, or cooking on a line, ..This list could go on for days and you'd stop reading after a while :)

Are ya still here? :)

Doesn't this read like the voiceover'd acceptance speech as the paegant winner is walking down the runway with the damn tiara falling off of her head because no one thought of bringing bobby pins while the mascara is streaming down her face...

Thought so...

Please know this:

You all make me laugh, smile, spit Cabernet, shake my fist, cry, pray, flirt and dream.

In short, you fookin' rock.  Smile Chuck

And hopefully you have made me a better writer.

It matters to me, that it matters to you, that I matter to you.

Don't try to figure that out. You'll only drive yourself insane.

Peace - Rene

Sorry about all the old deleted comments left behind. This was an older post that I re-worked and I couldn't erase them!  Tacky I know....please forgive.

Be safe this Memorial Day weekend and remember those who gave all.

See you all on Tuesday!

I Cut You Off Because I'm Actually A TimeCop

At least that's how you should see it.

Just without the Van Damme gymnastics. ( oh yeah, click here)

It started out as my bad.

I thought I had a lot more time to make that left.

So I misjudged.

There was no accident but you could have put everything I know about quantum physics between our bumpers.

The perfect pull-out...I'd say

That's what she said.

What?  You didn't think I'd go there?

You chose poorly.

So it was a close one.

But less than a quarter mile up the road a little old man was walking across the road with a cane and what looked to be a cat on a leash.

I stopped to let them pass and then a little paint was traded.

Same guy I cut off.

Oh, we're having some fun now!

We are two wild and crazy guys/ drivers!

If you are too young to get that reference Google it, please, it will change your life.

Little old man and ( cat?) safely across the road and off to his crooked little house...

We both pulled over to inspect the damage.

I was waiting for the other driver to let me have it, so I braced myself.

He spoke..."Is that a cat on a leash, Whoaa."..

I'm pretty much safe here. I said inside my head.

It's either Bill or Ted.

"Hey, I'm sorry I cut you off before, but, didn't you see me stopped to let the man cross the street"? I asked

"Wha?" Naaah, I was texting.

"While you were driving?"

"Yah, no worries"

"Well, yeah worries, you hit me, but you could have hit that man"

"But you were in front of me, maybe that's why you had to cut me off, shit happens for a reason sometimes"

What could I do but stand there and think...you know maybe?...

"Please do me a favor, no more texting and driving. I don't have enough hours in the day to keep cutting your ass off to save you from running people over", I scolded

"Yes, ma'am".

Ugh...I'm a Ma'am...

The damage was nothing that a little spit on a rag, which he chivalrously supplied, couldn't fix.

But that little old man owes me big time.

Peace - Rene

 

Gardening with David Sedaris

I have been an abusive daughter.

I have treated my mother just terribly. I don't give her anything to drink or eat, I don't give a shit if she's crawling with infestation or even clean.

I couldn't care less.

It should be pointed out, that before you dial social services, I am talking about Mother Earth. And since I don't normally walk around saying Mother Earth, lest I get the "Oh God 360" eye roll, today, in this post, I am calling my yard, Mother.

Ya dig ?

Fortunately, for Mother, a few sweet words from a friend have inspired me to spend some quality time with her.

Plus, my neighbors are starting to think I'm an asshole.

I had been feeling guilty about the state I have let my mother fall into.

Her hair is uncombed and full of pests. Her skin is dry and cracked.

Daughter, why have you forsaken me?

Digression: If lawns could talk they probably would say something biblical.
And maybe sound a lot like Samuel L. Jackson...I know it's "Mother Earth" but wouldn't that get your fookin' attention.

So today, after work, instead of the normal e-mail, homework, school crap routine I have fallen into...It was time to spend an afternoon with Mother.

She was repellent at first sight. Where do I even fookin' begin?
What are weeds? What are flowers? What are poison?
Whatever!
I was ready to pack it in.
Then I remembered my friend's words
"a pinch here...a wiggle there"
It was more like a grab here...a yank there,

I mentally divided my task into a grid and worked one square at a time "pinching and wiggling" the afternoon away...

Sounds hot doesn't it? Like porn. Lawn porn.

I would like to tell you that I had an epiphany here. That suddenly Mother Earth's prodigal daughter had returned.

Oh for the love of Susan Boyle, would you knock it off with the scripture already?

I would like to tell you that but the truth is... it was insanely boring. And since my daughter a.k.a She Of Little Help And Much Whining was indifferent to my deep cosmic guilt suppressing, I had to go it alone.

It wasn't long before I was asking myself, there has got to be an easier, faster way of doing this.

There were some landscapers working nearby that could be bribed with some beer and....pretzels, yeah let's call it pretzels.

I kid because I'm saucy.

But no...there was no easy way outta doing this. If you've ever battled head lice, it's a lot like that. I just had to go grid by grid pulling out each weed as I found it.

Mind numbingly boooooorrrring......

So I resorted to the old, "If I could be weeding with anyone living or dead"... I automatically ruled out the dead because what fookin' help would they be? Besides fertilizer. And the smell...

I decided that David Sedaris would be the perfect weeding companion.

He would entertain me with his dry humour and endless stories of being a fish out of water at the bordello, rodeo, numismatic meeting, lint inspector conference, weeding a garden...

He would point out that garden tools sound a lot like Stephen King characters, The Rake, The Hoe, The Lopper, The Shredder, The Secateurs ( beware the Secateurs). We would whittle the afternoon away being incredibly witty and oh so very critical of the other neighbours perfectly groomed yards. We would consider that freakish and attribute that level of perfection to some kind of failing elsewhere in their lives.

Like maybe they weren't getting any pretzels with their beer.

And then we'd play the I'm jealous of you because...game and he'd tell me all the best stuff.
Oh how we'd yammer and bitch and time would just fly by.

Ahhh me....

And, in real life, it did!

Thanks, in large part, to the encouraging words of a friend, my wild imagination and David Sedaris. I now have a weeded l'il patch of earth and you have this post.

Momma is happy, so everyone should be happy!

Peace - Rene

Jungle Love

Having a little fun with words and images...

The smile on your face
The swagger in your walk
The sexy low growl
In the way you talk

Oh..I ain't



When I say...

You've got me to thank

For putting that



In your tank

Grrrllll...

( I can totally see Bonnie Raitt singing that...maybe someday!)

Peace - Rene

Sunday ( Why I'll Never Be A Saint )

When I was little I didn't care much for Sunday. It meant I had to get dressed up and go to church. I was a fidgety kid who was constantly "feeding my nerves", as my mother called it, so sitting still in a hard wooden pew was torture.

I never paid much attention to Father as he said Mass. My wild imagination wandered elsewhere. Hats, hairstyles, the way Mrs. Mangiotti's feet looked like hams stuffed into her strappy shoes. I got lost in the details of the stained glass windows, each one honoring a saint.

Each saint was either getting rained on by tongues of fire or had their hands raised heavenward with looks of agony on their faces, as if to say, "Why me, God?"

"In honor of our Lord, Jesus Christ" was written in a Gothic style above each window. When I expressed my displeasure with the way our Lord, Jesus Christ was treating the saints, to my Grandma, without missing a beat she said:

"You gotta go through hell to get to heaven".

Peace - Rene

* I am having some difficulty with comment posting, if you find you can't post a comment the usual way just drop me an e-mail...I'm cool with that.*

A Quick Hit

The kid in line
Ahead of me
At 7-11
Smelled potently
Of doobage
Which gladly
I did partake
Secondhandedly
No inhale
Did I make
But what a trip
I was able
To take...

( blaze here )

Totally bogarting
The memories
I let curlicue... around...
my mind...
Then I bought some Red Vines

Desire ( Stronger Version )

* I am having some difficulty with comment posting, if you find you can't post a comment the usual way just drop me an e-mail...I'm cool with that.*

Peace - Rene

Seasons Change

September



January



May




The view from my desk at school. I am truly lucky to have this right outside of my door. Perfect for a gal who spent the better part of her education staring out of windows. :)

Out of view is the most gorgeous Victorian rectory and the Church. A very large, very noisy murder of crows sit atop the steeple for a good part of the day. When I am out at recess with the children I can't help but feel like Suzanne Pleshette in "The Birds"...I should teach the kids that Knickity, Knackety song.



This little guy "Chip" used to sit outside the classroom window at lunchtime. I may or may not have thrown peanuts out of the window for him to enjoy.



I am starting to get a little sad that my little chicks are almost ready to leave the nest. They were a lively, spirited, bunch who tested my patience and tickled my soul.

Each one of them were a different color of the rainbow. The happy, smiley Reds, The loud, boastful Oranges, The friendly, chatty Yellows, The confident, leader Greens, The shy, studious Blues, The scientific, inventive Indigos, and the arty, creative Violets.

They colored my world.

Peace - Rene

She Likes The Wind

I'm listening to the wind blowing through the pines as I type this.
That is not a euphemism for snoring, a whistling nose or farting.
It actually is what it is.

I've got the slider opened,enjoying a glass of Cabernet and I'm listening to nature taking a cleansing breathe.

Does it get any better?

I have always been fascinated by the wind, from a teasing breeze to a howling hell raiser.

Caressing my cheek
Tossing my hair
Slapping my back
Testing my balance

It cannot be tamed by any world leader
It cannot be bought by any king
It cannot be pacified by any lover
It cannot be held accountable for any damage it causes
It does what it does because it must.
It knows no other way.

I was seven years old the first time I ever saw a tornado. My mother and I were coming out Grant's, a department store in Southern NJ. The sky was this weird greenish color and it was eerily silent.

Across the parking lot I saw what looked like a lot of white smoke, mixed with bits of trash, moving very fast. I remember my mother grabbing me in her arms and running back into the store, where everyone foolishly stood by the windows and watched it skip through the parking lot and then disappear back up into the clouds.

"That was a close one!" I remember someone saying.

"We're lucky it was just a small one," someone else said.

And with that, the sky was blue again and everything went back to normal.

What just happened here? is I what I remember thinking

Walking back to the car I was amazed by the amount of litter scattered all around. If this was done by a small tornado, what was a bigger one capable of?

Fascinated by my weather encounter I read everything I could get my hands on and was both awestruck and terrified by what I read.

A tornado can destroy one side of the street and leave not so much as a broken glass on the other side.

A tornado can cause it to rain frogs. This horrified me to the point of watching the sky whenever a bad storm was coming. T Storm = Toad Storm. Yikes!

I must admit that, even today, extreme weather captivates me, all kinds. I am not a fan of it's aftermath, and the toll it takes on human lives, but rather how something can start out as a breeze and end up as a hurricane. How certain astronomical events all lined up in the correct order can turn a sun shower into a perfect storm.

It just does what it does...because it must.

It knows no other way.

Peace - Rene

Hey Ma!

Listen, chick
That is what my mother would say to get my undivided attention
And not in a sweet "there,there" kind of way
It was stronger and more commanding
Listen, chick!

She was our General and we were her army
Everyone in the car!
To the waaay back
All the way to the back of the station wagon
Back before car seats
Back when safety belts dragged happily alongside the car
Sparking, lighting the way
Twinkle, twinkle little car

We got lost so many times on car trips to Long Island
And Jersey City
"We aren't lost", she'd say
"We're just going a way we don't know yet"
So I need you to all look for Turnpike signs
See any yet?
I'll give a quarter to the first person who finds a Turnpike sign

I don't care whose name is on your ass
Is what she said when I pleaded for a $45 pair of jeans
To avoid being ridiculed by friends
I do care what comes out of your mouth
And how you treat others
Your "friends" should do the same

I remember once complaining about how my life was pathetic
and this was pathetic
and that was pathetic
and everything was just pathetic
My mother stopped, looked at me
curlers in her hair,
Baby spit-up on her T-shirt
bent over hosing down a diaper bucket
And asked me if I just learned a new word today

But the moment that is seared into my memory
Like grill marks on a steak
Is the time Mom dropped the F-bomb
In the car
In the church parking lot
On a hot summer day
110 in the shade
windows open
loud and clear
We, all six of us kids, were awful at Mass
It continued on, into the car
Mom sat upright
Glared into the rearrview
"Every One Just Shut The Fuck Up!"
We froze
We waited for the lighting
We did what we were obscenely commanded to do
All the way home
Once home we were instructed to get in the house
Get our swimsuits on
And get under the lawn sprinkler
Honor your Mother, god-dammit
Sin, Penance, Forgiveness, Baptism
Sunday lesson learned

Thank You Ma for showing me by your actions
The importance of listening
That by keeping your eyes open, taking the road less traveled can really pay off
That I shouldn't be defined, nor should I define anyone else, by a label but rather by the content of my character.
That before I complain about my burdens, I should count my blessings.
That sometimes we really do need to shut the fuck up and get under the sprinkler.

I love you Mom!

Happy Mother's Day!

Peace - Rene

I Love You Man...

One of the perks of being a Kindergarten Aide is that I can drift around the classroom and be a fly on the wall for many of the conversations during snack time and lunchtime.

My favorite place to listen in is on one group of boys who are convinced that they are part boy, part dinosaur, part robot.

Future CEO's.

A sampling of what I have heard:

You are probably my sixth best friend, in NH, in Alabama I have several more.

Anytime I have a birthday party you can actually come and bring me a gift.

You are wicked cool, I hope you never explode, cuz people can explode sometimes.

Are you playing with me now... or is this real time?

If we were in a video game I wouldn't punch you and if I did, because I forgot, I would make sure you didn't bleed.

Always check your bellybutton for ticks because that is a good hiding place for them.

When I first came to school I didn't like pee'ing in the tubs on the wall (the urinals), but now I'm getting bigger and I'm OK with it. That's how you know you are ready for 1st Grade.

I am double jointed in my fingers because, in my family, we used to be dinosaurs, you can look it up.

Basically, my favorite color is red. That's the Transformer in me.

With the school year winding down I am part happy, part sad and all ready to let these little guys go and become whatever they are to become, but there is a part of me that wishes that they could stay,part boy, part dinosaur,part robot, a little while longer.

Peace - Rene

I Am Not Nobody If I'm In The Book

Navin R. Johnson: The new phone book's here! The new phone book's here!

Harry Hartounian: Boy, I wish I could get that excited about nothing.

Navin R. Johnson: Nothing? Are you kidding? Page 73 - Johnson, Navin R.! I'm somebody now! Millions of people look at this book everyday! This is the kind of spontaneous publicity - your name in print - that makes people. I'm in print! Things are going to start happening to me now.

from the movie "The Jerk".

Ahhh it's phonebook season. I remember when I was little there were some sounds that got us all running outside. The jingle-jingle of the ice cream man, the low purr of the Goodyear blimp passing overhead and the thwack of the phonebook hitting your driveway. It was usually thrown from the window of an old station wagon with bad shocks.

Upon receiving your new phonebook, you knew you had a job to do. You had to be sure that you were listed in "the book". The next thing to do was to see if there was anyone new added with your same last name.

I still do that, even today.

And for the longest time there were two of us, representing our name, in the book.

Until today...

"What's this, someone new?"

Not only that.

They're listed first. Alphabetically superior.

Placing us, the original settlers, second and third.

I wonder how the other guy is feeling about this new development.

I should call him and give him a "heads up".

Jeez, I hope it doesn't start getting all "Smith" around here.

Another thing that I noticed about the phonebook is that I get a lot more of them. So far, this year, I have received four.

That's four books that I cannot recycle, throw away or rip in half.

They, like Keith Richards and cockroaches are pretty much indestructible...

Don't believe it? Check this out:



(click here) if you are having trouble viewing.

If you check you will find there are no phonebook retrieval services listed in the Yellow Pages.

No..These four books, these beefy communication reference tomes that I am now in possession of, will warrant a trip to the landfill and placement into to their own designated bin.

What happens to them next is probably classified information.

Peace - Rene