I Wanna Talk About Me

My photo
Savannah, Georgia, United States
As you can see, I am still just me. 27 years old, born and raised in Savannah, Georgia. Almost 9 years into a relationship with the man I gave my heart to. We are the proud parents of 3 dogs and 2 cats. You will see them all here, a lot. I lost my mother November 18, 2008. I am now struggling to live life without her, but I have an amazing boyfriend and fantastic friends to help me through. Oh, and Duct Tape is the best invention. EVER.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

I'm With Beard

I was laying in bed last night watching the news, as I always do, when suddenly my late night TV watching was oh so rudely interrupted by the EAS (Emergency Alert System…for those of you are lucky enough to NOT have Comcast, this shit comes on, turns the screen blue and red, scrolls whatever little storm is coming on the bottom of the screen and goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE for, like, ever.) (Oh, and you CAN’T change the fucking channel) Normally it only lasts a minute or so and then back to whatever you were watching. Well, I don’t know if someone out in EAS Hell was out to get me but this shit lasted 20 minutes before I got fed up and turned the damn TV off.

I was pissed.

Then I started thinking about what I should write about today. Nothing had really been on my mind…

I mean, I could tell ya’ll about the stomach virus I had earlier this week and how my poop turned black and I thought I was dying, and then I found out that Pepto Bismal does that. Weird. I know.

Or how I put my spray tan on last night and went a little crazy with it. I look like I have some terrible orange disease eating away at the skin on my legs.

But all I could think about, for some strange reason, was Master Wog’s beard. It is huge.

And now, I present to you...The Beard...

This is when it was a baby beard.

New Years Eve, 2 years ago.

St. Patrick's Day, 2 years ago. (I know you are confused at this point...he has shaved it off a few times over the last couple years, and lets it grow back in all its glory.)

St. Patrick's Day, last year.

Because he does not share the love of the Internet as Jess and I do, most of the pics of him are like this.

And this.

I will leave you with a few of my favorite pictures of my love. And his beard.

Last, but certainly not least, my most favorite picture of Master Wog and I. In the almost 6 years we have been together, this is the best.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens...

I wrote yesterday about baby Brooklyn and my mom. After reading it again, I felt I should really go into a little more detail about my relationship with my mom. What easier way to do that than to post the eulogy I wrote for her.

She was very sick for a very long time. She was in the hospital and then SHE made the decision to go to Hospice. My family did not like this decision, but I told mom that I would support her in whatever she decided. And I did.

Before she transferred to Hospice, she asked me to deliver her eulogy. At 23 years old, having my mother ask me to do that was a whole new experience all in itself. But I told her that I would be honored, and that I would love to do it. I wanted her to be able to proofread it, but before I finished it, she was gone. I feel I did her proud and that she would have been giggling and crying just like I was when I said it.

Plus, it will explain the grilled cheese sandwich comment from the last post.

Here it is, hope you enjoy...

Mom always said she thought I had a way with words. Whether I was reciting a poem I wrote, telling her why she should switch to a different brand of dog food, or begging her to get my ears pierced. So when she asked me to deliver her eulogy, I wasn’t surprised. I was honored, but not surprised. But then I ran into the problem of figuring out how to put into words, the story of my mother. How to explain the joy in her laughter. The unconditional love in her eyes. The fact that she never met a stranger. And every person she spoke to, she made smile. Even if it was by asking them “what’s invisible and smells like carrots”, the only joke she knew. I realized there is no way to verbally express how beautiful she was. But I would like to share a few of my memories with you.
Mom could always make you smile. No matter how terrible your day went, or how bad you felt. She had a way of just making you giggle. One day in particular, I was having a rough morning at work so she said, “want to get some Krystals?” Who can refuse that! She and I ordered and were waiting for our food when we noticed a gentleman, obviously disappointed in his meal, stomping up to the counter. “Excuse me ma’am,” he said loudly, “I can’t eat this, the bread is all soggy…no, I just can’t eat this.” Mom looked at me with her big smile and winked, before the cashier could respond, walked over to the man and said, in front of the busy lunch crowd, “Well, darlin’, that’s how they are supposed to be!” Right as I was about to hit the floor and hide from the embarrassment, everyone in earshot burst into laughter, including the man with the soggy Krystals. All I could do was smile at her.
I can’t count how many grilled cheese sandwiches we ate together. Everyday I would drive to her house on my lunch break, we would discuss what I we made for dinner the night before and how next time to do it her way, talk about the weather or who was going to be on Oprah today. She would fix us each a grilled cheese and we would eat and just talk. Then, without fail, she would ask if Jessica wanted a sandwich too, and of course she would, I mean, who could refuse mom’s grilled cheese?! So she would get up, make Jess one and have it done just in time for me to high tail it back to work. See, she couldn’t make that one when she made ours because it had to be warm for Jessica. That’s how mom was. Always doing the little things to make everyone happy.
Magan reminded me of the day this year that she and mom and I met at Arby’s for lunch and mom insisted on ringing the bell. Even though the entire time she made it very clear that they DID NOT make her day. She did it to be silly. To make us both laugh. Catie shared a memory with me just the other day about mom being the ‘Chocolate Milk Police’, let’s just say that Catie likes to have some milk with her chocolate. Mom would slickly roll back to the kitchen counter in her wheel chair and say “Catherine” in that mom-caught-you tone. Or when any one of us would sneak into the junk food cabinet, she would always know what you were doing but never failed to ask, almost saying, put it back, you don’t need Oreos for lunch. I could stand here for hours and remember things she did to make us smile. Like last Valentine’s Day. She somehow found the largest, greenest Valentine’s Day frog and brought it to me at work. She knew I didn’t need a three foot tall green frog, but she did it because she knew that it would make me happy. And that I would smile and giggle like I was a child again. That’s what made her happy. Seeing the people she loved, simply, smile.
When I was a teenager, one Mother’s Day I typed up the lyrics to Wind Beneath my Wings and gave it to mom. For years, every time I heard this song, I thought of my mother. Now, more than ever, these lyrics mean so much. I would like to read the song. I won’t sing it; I wouldn’t want to put Bette Midler out of a job. But here it goes…

It must have been cold there in my shadow, to never have sunlight on your face.
You were content to let me shine, that's your way, you always walked a step behind.
So I was the one with all the glory, while you were the one with all the strength.
A beautiful face without a name -- for so long, a beautiful smile to hide the pain.
Did you ever know that you're my hero, and everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle, 'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.
It might have appeared to go unnoticed, but I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it, I would be nothing with out you.
Did you ever know that you're my hero, and everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle, 'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.
Fly, away, you let me fly so high.
So high against the sky, so high I almost touch the sky.
Thank you, thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings.

Speaking of thanks, Thanksgiving Day is just around the corner. A time of year when we are thankful for the people in our lives. The blessings they remind us of each and everyday. There are no words to express how thankful I am. I feel it was a privilege to have the mother I did. To have inherited her loving spirit, her ability to forgive any and everyone, her patience, but above all the love she taught me to give. She taught me that no matter what obstacles I may face, to love unconditionally. I will treasure that always.

A friend recently told me to think of her as a big, bold, magnificent star in the sky. Every person who saw this star was touched by it’s beauty and light. Once you’ve seen it, you will never forget its brilliance. And because she burned so bright, and changed so many lives, she burnt out too early. She has found her home in the heavens, where she belongs. So next time you see that big bright star up there twinkling at you, or maybe you’ll see it just shoot on by, I want you to remember mama. And the love that she taught us all to give.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Brooklyn Riah

Meet the newest addition to our family. Brooklyn Riah. My cousin, Catie, who was raised as my sister, had her first child this past Thursday night.

I was in the room for the delivery and may I just say…I am never having fucking children. Fuckin. OW. Ok, ok, so I will have kids, but none of that pushing crap. Just cut me, pull 'em out, and sew me back up. Oh, and give me drugs. LOTS OF DRUGS.

She is beautiful. And I am so proud of Catie for getting through it. Although, it still makes my vagina cringe just a little. Fortunately, I have at least three years before I start having children, thanks to my little friend, Implanon.

As I have mentioned before, I lost my mom back in November. As I have not mentioned, I was with her when she passed. Catie and I were there, I was holding mom's hand and Catie was holding mine. Some people have said that I shouldn't have been in the room with her, I feel as if she wanted me there. It is a moment in my life that I will never forget. The fact that Catie shared that moment with me, meant the world. She was with me when one special life ended, I was with her when another began.

I cannot begin to express how emotional I was when she was born. Just knowing that this was a whole new chapter, and the beginning of the next generation. I know that mom was there, or somewhere, watching, having a beer and coaching Catie, laughing at her. I know that she would have been just as proud as I was to watch Catie bring life into this world. And she would have giggled at how many times one woman (in labor) can say FUCK in an hour.

When mom was in Hospice, Catie was almost 7 months pregnant. I gave her and Brooklyn's dad the idea to name the baby after mom. They had already planned to name her Brooklyn Rayne. I told her it sounded like a stripper's name (we DO in fact know a stripper named Reign). Catie was not allowed to name her Mariah Larkin. That is my shit, got it on lock down. Mom named me after her when I was born. The Exact. Same. Name. We confused a lot of people over the years...Anywho...They decided on Brooklyn Riah (my mom's name being Mariah, in case you didn't just catch what I threw at you).

I think that fact makes it even more special to Catie and I. Maybe in some strange way, mom is part of Brooklyn. I can only hope that Brooklyn will grow up with the kind heart mom had. The understanding and patience. The love and compassion...

But most importantly, the ability to make the best damn grilled cheese sandwich ever.