Today I met an angel.

This morning I was late for work because I spent two minutes with an angel. A few posts ago you might remember me talking about rushing past people and thinking ”What if that was an angle?”.

Today, I left the house a bit unhappy. Partly because I have to apologize for being selfish. Something I don’t relish doing. Especially to someone who tends to be pretty selfish most of the time. I was sad the same old dream was crushed again by circumstance and my in inability to just do what I want to do. As I drove to work I talked to God. I do this a lot. In the quiet moments of my day. I have a very short drive to work so this wasn’t a long conversation. I was so immersed in my thoughts, so early on that I turned left instead of right. This doesn’t take me in the wrong direction, just away from the Starbucks I would normally head to. My wrong turn led me to a rarely visited coffee house. Though closer to work, it’s usually too busy so I just choose not to go there. As I walk in, an older man asked me for change for some coffee. In my normal, shamefully 2nd nature, LA way, I apologized and said I didn’t have any. In truth I did. I had a $20 bill and a couple of ones. The second it came out of my mouth I was embarrassed and ashamed. I decided I would buy my coffee with the $20 then take him $5. As I turned to walk out of the building I ran into my sister in law J. I never run into her anywhere. She doesn’t live in the same town, or work anywhere near this Starbucks. At first I was pleased to see her, she always seems to cheer me. But in my head I was afraid this man would disappear before I had the chance to do the right thing. As we left, I quickly turned to where the man had been. I was so relieved to see he was still standing there. I quickly walked to him and gave him the $5.

He thanked me. He almost cried. I almost cried. He just started to talk to me. His wife of cancer. They had been married for 45 years. He was 68 and embarrassed, shamed to be asking for money. He used to have a great job, but when he lost his wife he had a nervous breakdown. Here he was on a Thursday morning walking to work because his truck brown down and he doesn’t have money to tow it home. “Tomorrow’s pay day” he said. But there was no hope there. He talked of not wanting to get up in the morning. I smiled, to offer what encouragement I could. I told him you have to get up everyday. You have to find one thing worth doing it for. It took all of my will to not cry for this kind man. I wanted to hug him. But there is still enough of the LA in me that I knew that wouldn’t. We each said “God bless you” in parting.

This was an Angel in passing. What have I got to be so sad about?! I have so much to be thankful for. This morning I asked God for direction and he gave it to me.

Long Distance Phone Calls & Rambling Converstaions.

You know those Master Card commercials? The ones where they show a scene, name a price and so on and so on until they end with "Priceless"? Well that about sums up most of my conversations with my sister.

Our long distance bill is, needless to say, high. I do not have a single person in my immediate family that lives in the same state. Not one. Even my husbands family, save one sister, all live out of the area. But who cares! I have to talk to my sister.

Tonight was one of those calls full of everything and nothing. In 20 short minutes we squeezed in complete nutty-ness, serious talk about my nephews and their special needs, not to mention my sons. We discussed the beauty of her children and the rapid growing up of mine. We talked about dinner. Several times.

You see, when calling my sisters house, it is impossible to have a simple, uninterrupted conversation. There is always one little one or another asking a question, doing something cute, or getting in trouble. There have been countless conversations, serious ones, interrupted mid sentence, mid word with "Mr Magoo Middle Name Last Name I said NO!" "Monkey get down from there!" "Missie not now I'm on the phone with Tantie!" "Have an M&M/Donut/Cookie/Granola bar".

This is not a complaint. I love these moments. They make me feel like I'm there. There are times when she's talking away to me and I'm just listening to the little voices in the background. And those moments when one of them wants to talk to me? Well, I just melt right through the phone.

Tonight was one of the typical nights. The differences in our lifestyles was quite evident. She in the midst of making dinner for 3 hungry sprites. Me, just getting home from a long day in the cubicle and rushing to get ready to start my 2nd job. With all of the distractions she must have asked me 3 times what I was making for dinner after we had a somewhat funny discussion about what I was making already. Finally I make a joke about it and what came out of her was "Ahhh Sooo". That did it. I laughed so I hard I ended up drooling. Gross I know, but really I was over-multi tasking and something had to let loose. I had the small cordless phone (the size of a cell phone-what was I thinking when I bought that thing!) crooked between my shoulder and ear slipping with each small movement, talking away, putting my way too long hair into a pony tail, taking off my long pants worn to work, digging through the clean laundry looking for a clean pair of shorts because as I mentioned yesterday the Santa Ana's are here making for a very warm evening and my son has shut all of the windows in the house because he is somehow, impossibly cold, and finally pulling them on, then pulling them up because they are old an too big, but perfect. Now I'm sweating too because I'm hot and trying to balance too many things (not to mention putting together the longest run on sentence EVER). Like I said, something had to give. Finally I said "Someday we are going to have a nice civilized conversation on the phone, just you and me". No one between the ages of 12 & 3 would be allowed to speak, look at or be in the same room. No men between 38 (I think that's how old G is) and 44 either. Just me and my lovely sister. Having a polite conversation. But really, what fun would that be. Not much.

So we get into a conversation about a person we know (okay..kim..you) and she's telling me about some similarities they share. Then we get into personalities and how I'm emotional. Not necessarily in a bad way. I've come a long way in the last few years. They're just easily accessible. Like while watching Greys Anatomy the other night. I have seen Season 2. I know how it ends. I have it on DVD. I know how it ends. I've seen the ending more than 4 or 5 times. I KNOW how it ends. But every time, never fails. I cry. No, not cry. I weep! So while watching the season premier the other night, every time Izzie appears I start again. Can't control it. Just keep crying. Then getting irritated with my self because I'm crying and can't see what's happening. It's the same thing while on the phone with Idaho. I can jump between laughing so hard the before mentioned drooling incident happens, then I'm stressed & worried about something happening or not happening there. Then laughing again because she asked me AGAIN what I was making for dinner. Ahhh Sooo.

What am I going to make for dinner anyway?

I need a delete button for my brain.

So I was talking to my sister earlier and said something really funny. Something we agreed must be posted here. Of course now..several hours later, 7th grade science & a social studies lesson (with a little art history thrown in...no way public school is including that, but that’s another story.), dinner, cleaning the house, all that rot...I can’t remember what it was. It was good. Funny. Would have cause a lot of laughs. But where is it now? Either on the top shelf of my brain that I can’t reach, or worse, it’s fallen off the top, behind the book case itself, lost amongst the cobwebs and lyrics to Lionel Richie songs from the 80's that I somehow seem to remember all of the words to while walking though Ikea the other day. Now that’s a funny story.

I had the day off a couple of weeks ago (first day of 7th grade for Lovey to be exact). My neighbor Irish has been having a hard time lately so I called to her & invited her on a pointless excursion to Ikea...the great Swedish furniture store that can cause hours of decorating drifting. I live smack in between two different stores. Being that I live in Southern California, while they may be the same mile-wise in distance, they are vastly different time wise. That’s something only those of in the in the LA/Orange county area can really appreciate...the fact that it can take anywhere from 15 minutes to 2 hours to travel 11 miles. Just depends on the time of day and what direction your going.

So...we choose to go the one that would be closer time wise. Less traffic. Okay. I asked Irish to drive knowing that if we started talking I would inevitability miss the off ramp and end up hopelessly lost or long past where we were supposed to be. Wouldn’t you know it, we started talking away and completely missed the off ramp. Drove 3 cities away from where we were supposed to be. Took an hour & a half to get to a store 11 miles from my house. (It only took us 20 minutes to get home by the way). Good thing we didn’t have anything or anyone waiting for us. We laughed, made the best of it and finally made it there. We strolled around, picked up a few things. Gained a million ideas and had a lot of fun. As we wandered the marketplace...the dangerous downstairs cavern with all of the good stuff. Just as dangerous as Target I tell ya’. She went to the left, I went to right, individually dreaming of what we could do with our humble abodes (mine being WAY more humble than hers). A Lionel Richie, 1980's really cheesy song comes on over their PA system. Can’t remember the name something about dancing "Ay Carumba" being one of the lines. NOT a good song. But there I am, singing along, even putting a little dance in my step. Not realizing what I’m doing of course. Then it hits me. WHAT AM I DOING? WHY DO I KNOW THE WORDS TO THIS SONG? WHY CAN I PICTURE THE MUSIC VIDEO? Surely there are more important things for me to remember! Why this song? I turn to Irish, laughing at myself and confessed.

"I’m singing the song." I said shamefully.

"Me too." Irish laughs. "I just wasn’t going to tell you." At least I wasn’t alone.

Here’s my point. We should have some sort of delete button for our brains. Not to be used to remove the painful or traumatic memories or anything like that. I think we need those, they make us who we are and remind us of where we’ve been and what we’ve overcome. No, I think we need it for the useless STUFF. The miscellaneous useless knowledge that takes up too much room so you can’t remember the important things, like you sisters anniversary (sorry Sissy), or how many cups are in a pint.

Why do I need to know all the words to a song I didn’t even like when it first came out? Why do I need to remember what I was wearing to some random high school day. For instance I can still remember what I was wearing the day my picture was taken for the senior poll. Not because the picture was in the yearbook. I haven’t looked at that in years. I simply REMEMBER. I also remember that I woke up late that day. Why? Why do I remember pointless conversations I had with people whose names I can’t remember? I should be able to choose to hit the delete button. This information does me no good. Except. It does. A little bit. Like when playing trivial pursuit or when watching Jeopardy. No one will play games like Cranium (the name of which I could not remember just now, and had to ask my son to remind me of..this is what I’m talking about) with us anymore. Why? Because between my husband and I we have so much useless knowledge taking up space in our brains that we always win. No bragging her, just a simple fact. My sister can attest to this.

Just think of how smart we could all be if we could empty the trash bin in our brains of all clutter. Oh if wishes were horses.....

1st day of 7th Grade for Lovey

I just read my sisters last few posts and it confirmed why I don't do this more often. She has such an amazing story to tell and a beautiful way of telling it. I have much less excitement in my life. So the pauses between my stories get longer and longer. Maybe now that Summer is over, I'll have more to say. That's not to imply that I have nothing to say...I always do. But often consider, is this the right forum for all my thoughts? Hmm.

Today was my Lovey's 1st day of 7th grade. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! He is so grown up. He's that age where he almost doesn't need my anymore. Oh..I know he does, but he's old enough to act like he doesn't need me, but not old enough to realize that it's really okay to still need your mom. He woke up early today, with no prodding from me or his Dad. He set his alarm clock on his own last night. Didn't even hit the snooze button when it went off, blaring some song I don't know. (I hit it at least 5 or 6 times everyday, who gets out of bed right away? How is that even possible?). He got dressed without a word from me, made breakfast..even brushed his hair without being asked. Now, this may not seem like much, but for Lovey...it's huge. He is an "only child" (really don't like that phrase, need to come up with something else) and relies very heavily on me to do things for him. I suppose because he is my only one, I don't mind doing for him. Don't get me wrong, the boy is expected to do for himself and take care of himself, and usually does. But the big things, like remembering to set the alarm clock etc., for that he relies on me to remind him. Then gets irritated with me when I do. But if I don't remind him, somehow I'm still the bad guy. Ahh, the joys of pre-teendom. But I digress...

As I drove my Lovey to school this morning (it's a very short trip, but too long and too up hill to tackle so early in the morning) it was impossible not to think of his first day of Kindergarten. It wasn't as huge and momentous day as it is for some children. Simply because, sadly, I have always had to work outside the home and Lovey started going to day care before he was 1. So the routine of get up, get ready, get going was new to him. He had attended a wonderful preschool just a block from our home that was structured very much like Kindergarten so the routine was even normal for him. I was very excited. His teacher Ms. B still holds a very special place in our hearts and has been the very best teacher Lovey has ever had. He was so little. Still with chubby cheeks. His serious blue eyes taking it all in. I remember him not wanting to let go of my hand for a while, then after taking it all in, studying it all, he let go and took his place on the carpet. Still keeping an eye on me (and my beautiful sister, who at this point, was almost interchangeable with me in his eyes).

Each year would be the same, I would walk him to class, stay with him for a little while and then go, after I was sure he was comfortable. Somewhere around 4th grade, he didn't want me to stay anymore. He never asked me not to, but we, as always, understood each other. Sometime last year, it became impossible for him to give me a kiss or hug goodbye. I might still get the occassional "I love you" but physical contact? Are you crazy? Out of the question. Today, when I dropped him off....I barely got a good bye. It made me a bit sad...but's really okay. I understand.

I know how my Lovey approaches situations, and how he acts when nervous or unsure. It's not different than that first day of Kindergarten. He becomes silent. He studies the situation and evaluates the risks before jumping in. He is cautious. A trait that makes his father a bit crazy. I know that before he feels comfortable with a situation that it's best not to talk to him or bother him. He deals with discipline and serious discussions the same. This is something I've only just accepted. While I always understood his approach to new situations, for some reason it took until this summer to realize he approaches just about everything that way. If he gets in trouble for something, he may get angry at first, something I attribute to having a mother with a similarly short fuse, and the hormonal imbalance of being 12. But when all is said and done, he will sit quietly for a while, then when he has fully processed it all, he will come to me with a hug or a joke..or something to let me know he gets it.

Lovey has had some emotional years and more than likely will have several more in the future. We will not always get along as well as we are right now. I'm not going to stop giving him hugs or encouraging him when he wants to hide or telling him how much I love him. This will undoubtedly drive him crazy on the outside, but I know on the inside it means something to him.

The other night, my husband and I were being, well to put it simply...a couple of dorks. Just being goofy. Lovey said "I think I must be adopted." We all laughed and my husband and I looked at him..."Son," my husband said "You might be able to deny you came from me, but look at your mother, you can't deny you belong to her." Then came the discussion of the same legs, the same feet and hands. The same eyes and nose. Other than the hair color we do look a lot a like. But really, it's so much more than that. We are so similar. I love him so very much that love is not a big enough word.

Today, when he comes home from school, he won't have much to say at first, but as the evening moves on I'll hear more and more about his day, his new teacher and old friends. It will come out slowly, as if testing the waters for our reactions. Then it will all come flooding out in one fast and furious now deep voiced wave. I can't wait.