Category: The Good Man

The funny thing about family is…

…that even if they make you mad, or you don’t see them for a while, or you don’t even know some of them, they are still yours. And they tell you a little about yourself.

I had the chance to take my still freshly minted husband to visit with the folks from my dad’s side of the family tree.

Unfortunately, my dad passed before The Good Man got the chance to meet him. TGM has heard all of my stories and I thought it was important for him to hear the stories that others had to tell.

I think you can learn to know a person by their stories.

This trip was also a lesson for me in asking for what you want.

I asked my aunts and uncles, surviving siblings of my father, to be willing to tell us stories about my dad.

They were only too happy to respond. And oh did they deliver.

The first day of my visit, my wish was not just fulfilled, my expectations were far exceeded.

Two aunts and two uncles, siblings of my dad, along with an aunt and an uncle by marriage, my mom, my husband and I all met for lunch.

Our orders were barely placed when the story telling began. Oh does my family love to tell a good story. My grandparents were real characters, like something out of fiction, and there is quite a bit of fodder there for stories.

I haven’t laughed that hard in a very, very long time. In fact, had I not been laughing, I probably would have cried my eyes out for all the gratitude I felt.

In two hours of lunch, I got a pretty deep glimpse into my dad’s life growing up. I didn’t know my dad’s side of the family that well since we were in New Mexico and they were in Indiana. Since my dad’s passing, I’ve been developing relationships with these folks and feel sad on the years I missed, but happy for the love and friendship and family bond I am earning as an adult.

I know a little bit more about my dad now. I know a little bit more about me, too.

And maybe the timing on this visit couldn’t have been more perfect now that I face the next decade of my crazy, mixed up, perfect life.

The funny thing about my family is…we may be a little strange, but the roots of our raisin’ run deep.

I wouldn’t have us any other way.

The humble beginnings…

…of a really good glass of wine. (or for that matter, a really bad glass of wine….)

It all begins here:
(click for bigger view)

This weekend The Good Man took me up to wine country for birfday celebratory fun. And some tasty wine!

Photo by Karen Fayeth

That’s improbable!

While getting ready for work this morning, The Feline was busting my chops. She likes to do this, especially when I’m tired and groggy at oh-dark-thirty in the morning.

Sometimes I humor the animal (or, er, myself) and have a “conversation.” It goes something like this:
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Feline: Meow!

Me: What’s that you say?

Feline: Meow!

Me: Constantinople? Really?

Feline: Meeeow!

Me: Met at the bazaar? You know, they don’t even call it Constantinople any more. You’re so old fashioned.

Feline: Meow!
_______________

That is but one example.

So this morning, The Feline and I engaged in another of our lengthy conversations. Here’s the rough transcript:

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Feline: MEOW!

Me: Had a bad dream, huh? Sorry to hear it.

Feline: Meow

Me: Maybe you should try cutting the kibble ration and sleeping less?

Feline: Meow!

Me: That’s interesting. You know they say a dream about eating fish means many conflicting things. Could be attachment issues.

Feline: Meow!
_______________

It was then that I thought to myself, “Hey, I could do that whole Pet Psychic routine. This is easy!”

Why did my brain drift over to “Pet Psychic?”

I’ll tell you why.

Recently, I pitched a literary agent about my latest work. Last week, I got feedback from the agent. He said (in not so many words) that a main plot point of my story wasn’t entirely plausible.

I found that odd, since that plot point was something that had actually happened in my life (“write what you know!”).

But ok, I took his very professional feedback to heart (maybe too much to heart, if you were to ask The Good Man).

With that in mind, I went to the library to check out items in the “new fiction” section to see what IS plausible enough to get published these days.

That’s where I found this gem.

“Pet psychic, radio host, four-time widow, and dedicated rescuer of distressed animals, Mary Catherine rushes in to help a turtle stranded in a house, only to stumble over a body. With the rescued turtle as the only witness, MC works with the initially skeptical police to discover the real murderer.”

Unh huh. So a pet psychic getting the eyewitness account from a turtle IS plausible enough to be published?

Ooookaaay.

And the clincher from the book jacket:

“Includes recipes for pet treats!”

Well there you have it.

The Feline remains non-plussed.

These are a few of my perturbing things

No raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens.

No, I’m all kinds of cranky today and need to, you know, just vent.

You know how it goes, you have other friends like me. You are having a perfectly nice day, then they come along and dump their misery. They feel great and you feel bad.

That’s me today.

Here we go.

I’m not cranky about anything in particular, just all the little things are wearing down my last nerve until it’s just a slick spot. I have, what The Good Man calls “bent whiskers.”

So here we go, a few of my most annoying things.

    


  • People who pour the top couple fingers of coffee out into the trash can at the local coffee place. Yes, I know they need room for cream, and there is nowhere else to deposit the excess java, but for some reason this seriously bugs me. I always think “that will melt the can liner and *can’t* be fun for the employee that has to come clean that out.” I dunno, maybe my former S’bucks friend (that’s you, Nat) can assure me this is not such a bad thing?
  • People who drive itty bitty cars and STILL can’t manage to make it between the white lines in the parking lot. Especially when they are using up a full sized space (versus a compact spot). I always want to door ding the %$#@ out of them, but refrain because…
  • …I also really hate people who door ding other cars. Are you NOT in command of your own car door?
  • Microsoft Excel. It’s totally user error, but like most folks, I choose to point the finger outward for my own personal inadequacies. : shrug :

    • 


  • That my manicure lasted less than a week. Grr. I want the heavy-duty shellac put on there! The kind they lay on thick like on a basketball court, with all the gleam. It should be super nuclear attached to my nails! One week!!?!?
  • That my frappin’ iPhone can’t seem to hold a battery charge for more than a day. Remember when mobile phones were only used for making calls? I could make a battery charge last a week on those things. Now with phone, text, email, twitter, web surfing, etc, etc, I wear out that stupid battery in the blink of an eye. Damn you Apple for bringing all of my life onto one tiny energy sucking device!!!!
  • That they only buy the cheapest possible pens at work, but will spring for $400 worth of food for a lunchtime meeting, leaving scads of leftovers. Money down the drain as I scribble with a crap pen. Whatever.
  • That I’m turning forty in a week.

Ok, that last one may be the main perturber…not sure. Either way, I’m massively cranky….