I bumped into St. Francis of Assisi.

St. Francis of Assisi was on the front of my mother's prayer card. St. Franny was the Patron Saint of Animals, and mommy was pretty much his understudy. Walking to Madison Square Garden, on a random side street, I passed this church.

Random. Sweet. Fitting. All Are Welcome.

Time with Pam

A very close friend of mine, Carol, is very ill in North Carolina. I wish that I could be there to help with her children and to sit with her at this very difficult time. When Pam was diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer, I knew the time was going to be short. So I decided that I would spend as much time with her as I could. I tried to get up there once a week. I would go up mid morning and stay till dinner. Pam sometimes (in the beginning) said that I must have better things to do than to sit with her all day. I said that spending time with her was very relaxing and peaceful for me and I enjoyed her company. I also knoew that if I wasn't seeing Pam, I would be running around doing stuff that, in the end, doesn't really matter. My time with Pam was (given the circumstances) very enjoyable. One day we watched a show about buying wedding dresses, which led us into talking about getting ours. Then Pam disappeared out of the bedroom and came back in with her wedding dress, to show me how beautiful it was. She said "Do you think Steph would ever wear it?" Being the totally honest person that I am, I said with a little updating, it would be great. That made her very happy. Pam's favorite show was "Jon and Kate + 8". We watched and marveled at how Kate could handle 8 children and still seem so organized. Pam would talk about how much work it was to raise 3 children. Pam seemed to like shows about real people in real situations, she always was sympathetic to people with problems. I think it took her mind off her own issues. Pam also always made sure that there was a good dessert to have in mid-afternoon. We had ice cream, brownies, chocolate cake.. delicious!
As time went on, the conversations got more serious and teary, but still good. I am blessed to have spent the days I did with Pammie. I have learned how important it is to be there when things are good and when things are not.

Just Say Uhhhh.

I loved it when Pam worked as a secretary. I would wait for her to come home in the evenings with stories about her boss and co-workers, and sometimes she would tell us a joke she had heard. One in particular was a favorite of hers...of course it became a favorite of mine because I wanted to be just like my big sister. The joke goes something like this...

So there was this guy named Roy who lived in a house in the country. Every day he would come home and sit on the front porch and take off his shoes. He left them out there overnight, and they were there ready for him in the morning. Well one day he came home with a brand new pair of shoes, and showed them to his wife. "Very nice," she said. "But you're not going to leave them out overnight, are you?" "Why not?" he replied. "What could possibly happen to them?"

The next morning, as Roy was getting ready for work, he looked out the window and saw a cat chewing on his shoes! He ran outside screaming and the cat ran away. His shoes were in ruins. Roy had to get out his old shoes to wear to work that day. He told his wife, "You watch out for that cat. Ohhh, if I catch that cat...."

That night while serving dinner, Roy's wife caught site of a cat walking across the yard. So she said........wait for it........."Pardon me Roy. Is that the cat that chewed your new shoes?"

If you really want to make an impact, sing that last line. Mind you, I was way to young to know the song "Chattanooga Choo-Choo," but I would crack up anyway. And I would tell it to my friends, and they would crack up too...it was an "adult" joke, so if you didn't understand it, you couldn't admit it. Now that I think of it, Pam's jokes were always pretty tame...though I do remember one about farting. That's about as risque as she dared to be!

Because I can......

This picture has been in my wallet since

far before my mother was gone.

It's happy to me.

Buttered Roll

Mommy loved Buttered Rolls. Aunt Meg used to comment about how you couldn't get a good buttered roll in Michigan, at least not as good as the ones we have in NY. They're always good. Despite the fact that my parents lived in the middle of nowhere, the deli in "town" made some kick ass buttered rolls. Even when mommy was sick, she could always muster up up enough strength to eat a buttered roll, even if only a few bites.

I stopped at a cart on my way to work to get a roll for breakfast. Skeptical, because it was not the usual cart I'd been going to for the past few years. Subsequently, i found out the roll cost $.25 more. Completely worth it, because this particular roll would have made mom 20 different kinds of happy. Butter, Roll, Perfection.

And That's That!

I remember when I was little, Pammie always used to reminisce about toys she had when she was younger. I did get some hand-me-downs, like her Barbies and Barbie clothes, but because of the age difference, I think that she got rid of many of her things before I was even born. One doll she used to tell me about all the time was "Flatsie." It was kind of a running joke, because Pam was never, um, well endowed. She would sing the little jingle, "Flatsie, Flatsie, she's flat and that's that!"

Flatsies were around in the 60s...basically they were little bendy dolls with long hair and big eyes. I guess they've made a comeback, because Emma and I found some in the Cracker Barrel gift store down the street. I told her that Flatsies were Aunt Pammie's favorite, and she could pick one out to buy. It took a little convincing, because the store has an insane amount of candy at toddler level. When we got the doll home, and found that she came with her own comb and removable shoes, she was sold. She even knows the song, though she sings it like "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Oh, well. She'll learn!

Wine-O

First post in a long time. Short memory that came to me...

Mommy barely ever drank. Maybe once a year, she'd have half a glass of wine, but that's about it.

When her M.S. headaches started to get worse over the past few years, she realized a little bit of wine would take the edge off.

When I say "a little bit" i mean that to the true extent of the phrase. She rarely ever made it through one minuscule glass.

One day, I must have been home from college, I'd apparently been doing the dishes. My mother had a headache that day, and had had a glass of wine at best.

Outburst #1: It apparently did the job, because next thing i knew, she was picking up handfuls of suds from the sink, and throwing them at me, hysterical laughing. Man, was I angry. One, because i couldn't get her to stop throwing the bubbles, and two, because i couldn't see why it was so f'in funny?

Once she stopped throwing bubbles at me, we watched TV in her bed. Outburst #2 enfolds.

Outburst #2. Out of nowhere, she got out from under the covers, jumped on top of the bed, took both of her socks off, and started singing at the top of her lungs and swinging the socks in the air. I cant quite remember if my father was watching TV with us, or just came to my rescue.
But, wen my father and I tried to subdue her, she would whack us with the socks and laugh

Mommy was a lightweight I suppose, but hysterical to watch, sock smacking, bubble throwing and all.