Archive for the ‘Swept Under the Rug’ Category

I admit it.  I am a plant killer.  I did not inherit my mom or dad’s green thumb.  I guess it is not in the DNA.  The only plants that manage to stay alive in my house are the philodendron in the kitchen and a few cacti.  Otherwise in a month or so in the house, it’s gone.  

People give me plants as a gift and I know they are not going to see the lovely plant they gave me when they visit the next time.  A friend gave me an orchid for Christmas.  I started to sweat, this was too much pressure.  I kill plants that don’t need a lot of tending.  What the heck was I going to do to an orchid?   Yep you guessed it lasted two months before I killed it which was actually better than I thought I’d do.  I snuck out to the garbage in the dead of night deposing of its dried vine when no one could witness my inadequacy.

I try.  I say I’m going to do better but then life takes over and one day I look and the plant is gasping for water.  Then I overwater to make up for it–soon another dead plant.   

Fortunately my dog will come up and look at me and lick her lips when she needs water.  And if I ignore her she’ll put her paw on my lap and start to talk as she walks over to the water bowl.  The plants can’t talk to me and I am oblivious until it is too late.

I was at Home Depot the other day returning some extra supplies that I had bought to fix the tile in my kitchen.  (I am handy in other ways!)  And in front of me was this man returning 3 dead plants.  Yes, Home Depot is lets you return plants you’ve killed within a year as long as you have a receipt.  But is it fair for a plant killer to buy plants that could go to a good home and flourish because I know that I could get my money back if I fail?  I’m not sure I could stand the guilt or the possible censure of the cashier and she looked at me and thought,  “oh another plant killer!”

Fortunately, I have other talents but a green thumb isn’t one of them!


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It was a really bad day for my marriage when our three year old stopped taking naps, since the hub and I always enjoyed our own afternoon playdate (sly boots wink) while he slept.  Or at least we had the OPTION to enjoy it.  Now our only options are early, early and I repeat, early in the morning, which has never been my best sexy kitten time.  Or late.  And by late, I mean past 8 pm after which the hub staying awake becomes dicey, but which is when the little guy goes to bed perchance to sleep, perchance NOT.   He is still awake in his bed as I write this at 10 pm, while my husband is peacefully snoring in our bed, see earlier post ‘fluffy review’ for the medical explanation for snoring.  And if monkey is still awake by the time hub & I miraculously do manage to both be awake and in our room at the same time, I’m terrified he’s going to tiptoe in and startle us by asking ‘What doin’ mama??’ complete with hand gestures and quizzical look on his face.  This also does not lend itself to sexy kitten behaviour.

So I had to enroll the kid in a class during the week just to get some alone time.  We have about a one hour window, so I figure we can clean the house with the other 55 minutes.  This morning hub unit dropped kid off with the understanding that he would return to our house forthwith where I would be waiting for him.  Waiting.  For.  Him.  Meow.

I miscalcuated.  Now, I’ve never been one to worry about other women.  Sure that 19 year old may LOOK hot, but eventually she will have to speak, which, thankfully, would result in my man losing immediate interest.  When I start to notice him spending time with a young, attractive mute I may need to pay attention.

Nope, the mistake I made was to not scout the businesses surrounding said school.  My bad.  While the candles burned down to puddles and the Showtime after dark special languished on hold, I sat alone drumming my fingers.   Should I just go ahead and clean the house?  Nah.  I’M GONNA CALL HIM.  So I did.  And ya know what?  Turns out there’s a little place called SANTA CLARITA CHOPPERS right across the street from the school.  Perhaps there should be a law about that, requiring all motorcycle shops to be registered with the WOA (wives of america) and housed at least a mile from any type of family establishment where husbands might be distracted by something shiny.  Put them in an orange light district to at least give us a little warning.  

Seems the other woman is a 2002 Harley Davidson Softail, with 10,000 miles.  Yeah, she’s used.  Yeah, she needs some work.  Yeah, he’s gonna spend money on her.  And he’s taking me to meet her tomorrow morning. 

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I just watched this 12 minute video that was broadcast on OPRAH about Randy Pausch, a Carnegie Mellon computer science professor with a wife and 3  young children who only has a few months to live.  His story is inspiring – moving – humbling and heartbreaking.   This is one of those video’s we can all watch and learn from.   I thought it was important to share.  We all just run and run and go and go and sometimes we forget   what is truly important.  The bottom line is that everyday is significant and we need to show more “gratitude” for them.  Life is a gift and a blessing and we should not waste the “limited” time we have.   

His passion and zest for “today” is incredible as his today’s are so short.  This man has no self pity, only appreciation.  We all should be grateful and embrace our today’s and those people in our life who share them with us.    


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Okay….so I know that I ranted and raved about the morality, or lack there of, of the people that were once in the biz, but it occurred to me in my incensed state of being that I had also blocked out a more horrible incident during my time of the last refi boom and one more unsavory character whom I worked AND invited for drinks with the gang…that unlike that group who was just careless and didn’t give a hoot, this one really shook me to the core…

An alleged murderer – yes, folks, that’s right…Gary & I were driving through Amish Country  http://www.amishcountry.org/   in June of 2004 when I received a call from one of my fellow loan officers…

He:  “Jody, are you sitting down?”

Me: “Yeah, well, I’m driving – hang on…let me pass this horse and buggy”  – the passengers look at this interloper (me) in my fandangly rental car…

He:  “You are NEVER going to believe what is all over the news here…SO & SO’s MUGSHOT IS ON THE FRONT PAGE OF THE HOUSTON CHRONICLE…didn’t you guys all go for beers the other night at Mr. C’s?”

Me:  literally swerving to the side of the road – near expulsion of every molecule of oxygen from my gut  “Yeah…” in a very stunned state

He:  “Well, dude…he was arrested for shooting some chick off of his balcony with a scoped rifle…that’s *#%&* sick man…can’t believe it, can you?  Did he ever seem weird to you?”

Me:  “uh-uh…I gotta go…let’s chat when I get back to Houston”

I guess this goes deeper than just working with a numbskull that doesn’t know the biz…this was JUST TOO BIZARRE…in the fact that you really don’t know people, do you?

I had literally BLOCKED this from my mind – hadn’t thought about it since it happened because the guy called me at work once he posted bail.  Kinda creepy.  He wanted to “explain” so that I could set the record straight in the office…Yeah, okay. 

So, I guess you never really know who you’re sitting next to on a bus, in a train, on a plane or who might be doing your financials…Interesting….
I guess that’s why this time around, I am truly enjoying telecommuting…don’t think my cat will go ballastic on me with a rifle.

Please note:  No HORSE & BUGGIES or Loan Officers were harmed as a result of this incident

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One of the biggest challenges I have going on right now is figuring out how to deal with my mother who is 1700 miles away, 85 and failing fast.  She lives in an assisted living home near my older sister in Rockford, Illinois.   I go back a couple of times a year to visit and try to talk on the phone regularly.  I say “try” because phone conversations are sometimes an exercise in patience and humor.  Yesterday, I was talking to my mom on the phone and she kept saying, “I can’t hear you!”  I think she may have been holding the phone upside down because her voice sounded far away.  I had this vision of the speaking part of the receiver near her ear and the listening part near her mouth and her shouting at me, “I can’t hear you!” And me yelling louder and louder into the phone talking about nothing really important but trying to make myself heard.  Finally I told her I was going to hang up and call her back.  I think when she hung up the phone and picked it up again when I called back, she picked it up right because the rest of the conversation was better.

It makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.  The woman in the body is not my mother.  She’s interesting at times and frustrating at times but definitely not the woman I grew up with.

There are some pluses.  Her old patterns of judgment are gone. My mom was the one that looked at a report card of all A’s except for one A- and would ask, “what are you going to do about the minus?” 

Now,  I could tell her just about anything–including that I had decided to jump out of an airplane and her response would be, “That’s nice dear!”  Now whether this is because she doesn’t really hear me or she really has mellowed, I don’t know.  I’m taking it as acceptance that I am now an adult and she is giving me permission to live my life without her sniping at my choices–that a sort of healing has happened.

The one sweet thing that has happened through my mother’s decline is her new ability to say, “I love you.”  My mom was of that WWII generation that didn’t express their feelings.  I can’t remember a time in my childhood or early adulthood where she actually said the words, “I love you.”  I knew she did but she never said it.  A couple of years ago, after her first stroke, I decided that every time I spoke to her I would tell her I loved her.  I knew that each phone conversation or visit could be our last so I made the commitment to make sure each time she heard me say, “I love you.”  In the beginning it was rocky,  I’d say, I love you Mom and she’d either snort or say “I know.”   But over the last year each phone conversation ends with me saying, I love you and her replying, “I love you too!”  Yesterday, she actually said it first!  It made me tear up.  Because I know that she knows her body is failing and she won’t have many times to say those words.  It is so bittersweet.

The thing I miss the most is the ability to bring my problems to her.  Mom was always there for me to cry about a relationship that didn’t work out or strategize about how to handle a difficult employee or boss.  I didn’t always like her solutions but darn it she was always there.  Little did I know when I would bitch to my friends about “my difficult mother”  how much I would miss her when she was no longer “my difficult mother.”

There are so many mixed feelings as a parent ages.  A lot of them we don’t really talk about.  I have a few friends who are all in the same place with their parents and the stories and fears and laughter and tears we share help us get by. 

So in my new community of friends here on the blog, I’m sharing a little of both today.  When your mom is going or gone, I think you need your community of female friends even more. Thanks for being my shoulder!



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Wheres My Damn Answer’s Weblog

Author: Kristy Nuttall

Swept Under the Rug is a topic that covers things we don’t want to deal with, but know that we need to.

My thing that I need to deal with is my annual charity event, Spa Boutique for a Cure. It was originally set for March 2, 2008, but because that was the day of the LA Marathon we pushed it back to the end of April. Now the hotel has hit me with a bunch of hidden fees that they didn’t mention before and it looks like I’m back to square one all over again – ugh

I find myself toggling with whether or not I should still push forward. I have a TON on my plate. My Little Pretty has taken a huge turn with lots of changes involved. It is taking a lot more of my energy to find a place of balance, to figure out what needs to be done to make the turn be successful the quickest, etc. Do I really have the energy left to put into Spa Boutique for a Cure? I don’t know. I sat on the bathroom floor with my husband Ron the other night and cried – tears of being overwhelmed. On one hand, I love the event and believe that everyone has to do “something”. In fact, last year there was a documentary filmed at the event and I believe they have me saying that very same thing on tape. That something for ME has been to raise money for breast and ovarian cancer research – to be able to help in even a tiny way helps me not feel helpless.

I have my list of pro’s … we have a sponsor already lined up, we have a lot of vendors who would surely like to be involved again, we have press connections, we have a red carpet and press wall. The con’s … we don’t have a venue, I don’t have a lot of cash to front this year, we don’t have a celebrity wrangler connection at the current time.

What to do … what to do. I know I need to make a decision and just move on it, but so far, I haven’t been able to.

:: looks at list :: …. maybe by Monday I will make up my mind …

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