Good morning...never.

If you know me personally you know how much I loathe the morning time...well, not the actual "morning", but the act and necessity of having to remove myself from the comforts of the bed. It's just the absolute worst.

I've never in my life been a morning person - with the one exception being Christmas morning, because Christmas is my favorite and I still go to sleep with butterflies in my stomach and wake up with a dumb grin on my face. Because I'm a human with a heart and soul.

Momma is the definition of morning person. She wakes up singing songs and twirling around sprinkling fairy dust on everything or whatever it is you morning people do. Momma had several ways of waking Morgan and I up in the mornings of our childhood, I will outline them here for you to cringe at.

• Open bedroom door - yank open curtains - sing some ridiculous song about morning time and smiles.
• All of the above PLUS tearing the blanket off of our sleeping warm bodies.
• All of the above PLUS sitting on our bed, bouncing up and down and tickling us because she's the devil.

THEN. THEN, she gave up on all of that because Morgan and I are terrible, horrible people and would yell at her and make mean faces and kick her off of our beds. That's when she deployed the most terrible and awful way to be woken up. She would literally annoy us awake. (I know, the things above are pretty annoying - but just you fucking wait.)

Here it is. Here is what she would do. From the second floor - she would yell up to the third floor where our bedrooms resided. She would yell:

Amber. Amber. Amber. Morgan. Morgan. Amber. Morgan. Morgan. Morgan. Amber. Amber. Morgan. Morgan. Amber. Morgan. AmberMorganMorganAmberAmberMorganAmberMorgan. AmberMorgan.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat forever in the most monotone voice you can think of.

During all of this we are yelling - STOP IT. PLEASE. GOD. STOP. OKAY. OKAY. STOP. WE'RE UP!

We weren't up. We lied. Sometimes we would drag our sleepy bodies to the top of the stairs and yell down FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE EFFING WORLD WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP MAKING NOISES WITH YOUR FACE?! WE LOVE YOU. DON'T GROUND US. ALSO, TOASTER STRUDEL. TWO PACKETS OF ICING BECAUSE ONE PACKET ISN'T ENOUGH.

So, why? Why can't I just BE a morning person? I want to be. I wish I could be cheerful and happy in the morning, I don't want to be hateful and terrible - I just am. Morning are just so hard. They're usually cold. My face is all sleepy. My limbs are sleepy and don't want to work. My brain is all, "No. That dream was good - let's go back to that!". If I wake up to my alarm clock - which I will snooze for approximately an hour - I'm not horrible to anyone. BUT if a person wakes me up, UGH, just, don't.

I've tried several "tricks and tips" to becoming a morning person and they just make me more grumpy and tired. I've given up - I will just remain...whatever the opposite of morning person is. Fantastic? Yes, that must be it.

An ideal world...

Medicated Traveling

I'm not a good flyer. I have to medicate - Xanax is my preferred method. Morgan is the same way. We had to fly quite a bit when our parents divorced and momma decided Alaska was a great transition...from Louisiana. Morgan and I would fly back and forth during the summer to visit Daddy, family and friends.

We did great on our flight to Alaska - Morgan had a fresh set of stitches on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt from a gash he received while playing baseball with a pipe. Of course this happened right around the beginning popularity of Harry Potter movies. Oh yeah, and he wore glasses. It was perfect. Two kids traveling alone across the country being stopped by strangers constantly. Piece of cake. We weren't traumatized at all.

Right before (the night before) we would be flying home for the summer that year Momma decided to take us to the cinema. "Oh, a film! Fantastic, what did you see?" Final Destination.

*blink*

We saw Final Destination. Why? Hell if I know! I felt fine after seeing it - it's just a movie for goodness sake.
Just. A. Movie. Yeah, it was "just a movie" until Morgan and I were headed to board the plane and I blacked out. Of course, I thought I blacked out. Actually I misplaced all of my shit and pushed everyone out of the way as I drug my poor brother through the crowd back to momma while screaming "We're all going to die probably!" Needless to say, no amount of coaxing could get me on that flight. I would like to take this moment to apologize to my step-dad Jack who at this point hadn't really seen anything like this and really acted honorably by sitting out of the way and pretending like he didn't know us. So, sorry.

We were put on the next flight - momma gave us some anti-anxiety medication. We woke up mid-flight and had the best meatloaf sandwich we had ever tasted. We still talk about it. So very good.

And that's why when we fly now we take a bit of anti-anxiety medication, we're adults so sometimes it is accompanied by whiskey. Don't judge, it's rude. (Note: this medication is prescribed to us - we do not advocate drug abuse or taking medication that does not belong to you or isn't prescribed. Drugs are bad. Also, drinking while taking medication is probably also bad. Consult your physician.)

Morgan is traveling right now for some fancy meeting for his job. He called me at 8:30 am. Here is a basic transcript of our conversations.

8:30am
A: Bueno (don't ask)
M: What time do the bars open at the airport?
A: I don't know...now?
M: Hmm...I'm going to check. They open at 10.
A: Wow. I feel like they should be open all the time.

9:00am
M: Okay, so I took half a xanax about an hour ago...when do I take the next half?
A: When do you board?
M: In like, 30 minutes.
A: Well, I usually just take a whole one an hour before then I sit at the gate, then when we board I stand up and can't feel my legs. That's how I know I'm okay.
M: Yeah, I like that but I need the half before I get to the airport.
A: I understand. You need to take the other half now.
M: Moment of truth - half or whole?
A: Half
M: Too late.

Then he boards - he calls me when he gets to his layover a few hours later.

A: How's that xanax treating you?
M: Well. I sat next to two old people on the flight - the wife wouldn't let me go pee because her husband was asleep.
A: Seriously? It was 10 am, did he not sleep at nighttime like he was supposed to?
M: Also, I thought I saw Stanley Tucci in the bathroom...but it wasn't him. Upon further inspection the only similarities between this guy and Tucci was the bald head.

15 minutes later...

M: I've just learned, Adbbhell Jameson is really tall
A: Who?
M: A double Jameson. It's tall. And big.

Tall and big.

See A Penny Pick It Up...

Do yall know that saying, "See a penny, pick it up, all the day you'll have good luck."? I know it because it was engraved onto my soul as a young'n. Being from Louisiana, I'm full of sayings and superstitions. And no, I am not also full of shit, regardless of what my husband says.

Mammaw taught me to only pick up the pennies that are laying heads up, those are good luck. Heads down, bad luck. Not only that but she also taught me to put the penny in my shoe. She ALWAYS had a penny in her shoe, and so did I.

Momma taught me to never throw away money or vacuum up money off the ground. She explained it as, if we treat money like it means nothing or is trash then we can't expect the Lord to bless us with financial health. She didn't say it that eloquently, it was more like, "If you throw away or vacuum up money you can't expect Jesus to help you out when yer broke, also, I'll whoop yer ass." I'm not saying she isn't eloquent, because Lord knows she is, she just didn't waste her beautiful talk on my childhood ears. On a similar note, I recently had to explain to Madison what "half-ass'n it" means.

I feel like you should know this about me, since recently one of my closest friends displayed her shock at my alien like behavior. Because apparently, picking up pennies is just crazy sauce.

We were leaving the mall, I was trailing behind a bit and I noticed the shine of a penny on the ground. As I passed I noticed it was heads up, well, I can't pass that up. I do try and pick up pretty quickly because, let's face it, I don't want to remain bent over in public very long. I tried picking it up quickly but faltered because it was raining and it was kind of in a puddle, at that moment Stephanie turned around.

"Did that just happen?"

Yes it did.

And I'm one lucky sonofabitch.

Okay, well, not really...but one day I bet.

PENNY!

Momma's Page

I hope you have checked out the page dedicated to the things that Momma says and does.

There's a new conversation up. Wanna know what it's about?

Then go read it.

Okay. Here's a hint.

Get it?

No?

How 'bout now?

No?

You definitely have it figure out now...right?

 

 

 

Last week, containing the day in which Momma was born.

I did not post this last week, mostly because I'm insane and must've lost my damn mind.

Last week contained Momma's birthday, and if you didn't wish her a happy birthday then by God you oughta be ashamed of yourself.

I would like to take this moment to address some things about my momma.

1. She is the best.
2. That is all.

I have friends who talk to their mom's every once in a while and whose mom's don't even really know who they are or what they do or that today they are wearing the same jeans as the past 5 day's because she's scared that if she washes them that they won't fit.

That's too bad. I talk to momma every day (so does Morgan) and if I haven't called her until well into the afternoon then I get a phone call from her saying, "Why you no calla?" I always talk to her before I go to bed, and sometimes she calls me first thing in the morning...much to my chagrin. (I've always wanted to say that...did I sound like a pompous ass? Thought so.)

I can tell her anything and everything, and I do. Of course as a teenager we weren't this close, you know because I was an asshole (her words), but I think deep down we always were. All of the things she taught me about right and wrong and how doing any drug will immediately kill me or render me a vegetable so that I will serve as an example to everyone else, have stuck with me. Hell, just last week I had a migraine and she gave me a percocet and I was so scared of just that, so I only took half. Then she laughed and I let her know that it was all her fault.

I call her when I need advice on anything and she's always happy to help. She saves my life everyday. She taught Madison about fairies and creatures. She taught me...everything. Common sense and manners. Two things that seem to not get taught these days. I say "Yes ma'am and No ma'am" to this day as does Madison and as will Cooper. If I forget to use manners, then she responds with, "You're never too old for me whoop your ass." To which I respond, "Yes ma'am." While covering my rear, out of habit.

We communicate on a whole separate level, this level is sometimes referred to as "crazy". She can say, "Go get me that thing, over there on the deal." And I will retrieve it. At one point in my life she started calling me "cock"...she started that little trend while we where in the grocery store...and she yelled it. And I responded. She once sang Happy Birthday to a stranger in Wal-Mart. I learned to just give up on being embarassed by anything, ever.

I feel like this post isn't even doing her justice, I'm just letting you know all of these great things about her but you'll never really know how amazing she is.

The sound of her voice can make me cry and I couldn't get by without her. Thank you momma for being...you.

She will kill me and then whoop me if I put a picture of her on here...so here is one of her offspring.

Which includes me.

There I am.

And there is Morgan.

And we are cute.

Why Momma Is Never Allowed To Go On Vacation Again

Momma works hard. Like, works harder than anyone ever in the history of working on things. Typically, even when she goes on a trip she still has her work phone and her computer. These two things act as huge ankle weights on the enjoyment of day to day living while trying to be drunk but yet remain upright.

This all changed when she and Jack planned a trip to Hawaii. It would the first REAL vacation. One where there would be no laptop or work phone weighing down the enjoyment of day to day living while trying to be drunk but yet remain upright. In fact, who needs to remain upright? I've never been to a beach to stand.

They had a week of vacation in Oahu. There was no itinerary, no big plans. Just relax, eat, drink, relax, repeat. They arrived in the evening, had a few drinks, ate some food and then retired to the bungalow or whatever it's called so they could start their first full day in the sun refreshed. Please remember, they were going to Hawaii from Alaska. The sun and being in it is really the most important aspect. That and Mai-Tai's. (Speaking of, until recently I always confused mai-tai and molotov cocktail...don't drink with me, it could be deadly.)

The next day they were getting ready to start the day when, she put some lotion on, including on her feet. And then she walked into the bathroom.

BAM!

In her words, "It felt like my leg was being torn from my body."

After riding in the car, on her knees in the front seat, facing backwards, to the ER. Spending 9 hours in the ER. She is told she has torn a tendon or tendons in her leg. Not just "tear", but "MOTHERFUCKINGTEAR!"

She couldn't sit down. Could barely walk. Breathing was beside the point.

I was brave enough to ask, "Why did you put lotion on your feet? And then walk on bathroom tile?" She didn't grace me with an answer, but I think that if the percocet hadn't chose to kick in at that precise moment, the answer would've been a colorful one.

The one week vacation turned into a two week...something. Which is still a vacation, because I mean, she was in Hawaii...she just couldn't be "in" Hawaii. She sent me tons of great pictures from her balcony.

One night I was sitting at home thinking, "Wow, pretty much nothing else could possibly happen now right?" and my phone rang. It was the protagonist herself. "There's been a terrible earthquake in Japan and we have a tsunami warning here."

"Ha. You're so funny."

"No. I'm serious."

(You may be wondering why I didn't believe her. Well, it's because I had the local news on right when she called and they hadn't bothered to mention the earthquake in Japan...you know, because the Northern Lights are going to be out tonight and that's a big fucking deal so let's just talk the shit out of it.)

That's when she started doing that mom thing where she uses her "everything is fine" voice...but in fact she's really nervous and does that thing where we watch cartoons or the live edition of Charlie Sheen's twitter feed so we can pretend like everything is fine and there isn't a potential wall of water heading right towards us and that right now the people in Japan aren't under water and their buildings aren't being washed away and in some places there aren't even people anymore and that we're not worried that one day when we have grandkids and great-grandkids we'll be saying things like, "Remember Japan?".

Luckily, there was no major tsunami where she was and everything in Hawaii was fine.

She is now home and doing wonderfully with no permanent damage and Morgan and I have grounded her from going anywhere. She said that she wanted to take us there one day...we politely declined while chaining her to her bed.

Room with a view.

Unrealistic Reactions

I have a Momma story, it's too long for the "Momma" page so I'll just put it here. Okay, a little back story. As the political season winds down, still too fresh in our memories are all of the ad campaigns and the signs and the bumper stickers and teeth gnashing. Still too fresh in our memories are the faces of those running for office, those that won the primary but then lost to a write-in candidate. The same candidate that they defeated in the beginning of the grand race.

Please wait while I go have a shot of whiskey.

I'm back.

I dislike politics so very very very much. But, the back story is needed for those of you who do not live in Alaska or that do not pay attention to politics.

Joe Miller ran for Senate this year. Which meant we saw his face about a bajillion and half times per hour. I'm not exaggerating. For serious ya'll. Plus, I'm a registered voter, so trust me.

By the time it was all said and done I think we were all just about tired of seeing his face. Now, flash forward to this week.

Momma calls, and instead of telling the story I will just break out our conversation.
*For those of you that I personally know, I think I told you she was at a restaurant, she corrected me, it was the airport.
Momma: I'm so mad at Joe Miller!

Me: What?

Momma: Ugh. He has just really pissed me off.

Me: Wha? (See, I'm confused here because she doesn't know Joe Miller personally...right?)

Momma: So, I'm at the airport and I had to use the bathroom. I'm walking out with all my business and I see a man standing there on his cell phone. I recognize him and think that maybe it's one of my clients so I say, "HEY!"

sidebar: Now, if you don't know Momma, her "HEY's!" are like honey. Like velvety chocolate or a cup of sugar. It's like a hug in word form.

Momma: So I say, "HEY!" and then the guy says, "HEY!" and THEN I realize....Ugh, it's Joe Miller. UGH! Joe Miller. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh!

Me: Uproarious laughter

Momma: Who stands right outside a ladies bathroom anyway?! Ugh. Pissin' me off.

Me: Can't. Breathe. Must. Get. Breath.

Momma: Y'know, he is kind of handsome.

Me: I thought you hated him!

Standing outside a bathroom near you.

La Grande Casita

About a month...maybe two, ago, momma and Jack had the fantastic idea of building a playhouse for the grandkids. I was instantly excited, they have a beautiful yard, very rainforest-ey...yep, that's a word. They got started on it quicker than I anticipated, then it rained for 40 days so that delayed things a bit, what with the huge Ark that landed in the front yard.

Then, just like that, it was done. Jack did some amazing work on the construction. What started out as a one room playhouse ended up being a tiny cabin complete with bunk beds, a reading chair, windows, a heater and a heap of personality. Momma decorated and it's like something straight out of a storybook. We can't get enough of it. I would love to take you on a photographic tour, I tried to capture everything but looking back at the pictures I just feel like they don't do it justice.

This little home is magic. From the second you walk in you feel like you've escaped something and can finally breathe. The beds are outfitted in fine linens and the comfiest quilts. Every nook has a little piece of personality. The windows only reveal the wilderness so you feel even further from reality. A storage ottoman houses crayons, markers, and paper dolls. There is electricity and the light that shines down comes from an antique fixture that seems like it was made just for this spot. The ceiling is tall giving the small house a grand feel. When you leave the magic of "the cabin", as Madison calls it, you are already trying to scheme and plan the next rendezvous.

Thank you to Momma and Jack for blessing our family and all the grandkids with a little place that they can call their own and truly be children.

Enjoy.

Won't you come in?

 We're warm.

 Modern bird nest.

 Shed a little light.

 

 View from inside towards the door.

A whole lot of enjoyment is contained in this storage ottoman.

 There's not much better than a brand new box of crayons.

 Magnificent chair.

 It's all in the detail.

 Something in every corner.

 Magic lies within this door.

 I love the bottom bunk.

 Madison calls dibs on the top.

 It's just calling for me to sit and read an entire book.

 Homemade curtains by momma.

 We've each started to make beaded garlands to decorate with.

 This is momma's, there is no end to her creativity.

I would live right here if I could.

There's Something Wrong With You and other tales from the crypt.

The kids and myself went to Momma and Jack's house tonight to celebrate the grand opening of "El Grande Casita". (Don't critique my use of El, I can't remember if Grande is feminine or masculine or if that even matters or is applicable in choosing whether to use "el" "le" or "los" in this situation, my eye just twitched thinking about it.) Back to the topic, it is the brand new playhouse that Grandpa Jack built and Mae Mae decorated (and helped build). We have been waiting all week to finally make it over there to check it out and I will have a separate post later this week that is strictly about this magnificent abode. It is stunning. Just wait, you'll see.

After enjoying some great momma/mae-mae/daughter/granddaughter moments we went back inside to prepare for dinner. I was haggling with Cooper over whether or not he would allow me to bring the spoon near his face and how far I could get said spoon to his mouth before he used his cat like reflexes to knock the damn thing out of my hand. Finally I had to just give it up and step away or someone was going to end up with peas on their head. Yes, it probably would've been me.

Throughout this scene I kept hearing Momma mention that she was hot.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before but the women in my family don't do well with hot. I'll give a brief rundown; outside hot = fine, inside hot = the opposite of fine. She tried opening the door but then Jack explained that noone else is hot so why make us cold if she's the only one hot. This may sound like logical reasoning, unless you are the one that is hot. If you are the one that is hot then that explanation sounds more like this, "Oh, you're hot? Well, fuck you then. While you're not looking I go over and turn up the thermostat and then tell you that I'm not hot so that you think you are crazy and look at me I'm not hot I'm so very comfortable you fucking lunatic! Oh, you want some cold water sweetie? Here, have some room temperature water."

I never said we were sane.

Finally dinner was done and we are enjoying a nice meal including a fantastic Cabernet Sauvignon that was delicious. We were just about done eating, having some nice conversation and I turn to my left where Momma is sitting and I notice I can see her stomach, I thought her shirt had ridden up. Nope. All of a sudden that shirt came flying off, eyes wild and hair going crazy.

"I SAID IT'S HOT IN HERE!"

I simply cannot get enough of this vision. I don't know where to look, I want to see Jack, Madison, and Cooper's expressions but I don't dare tear my eyes away from this epic scene that is taking place right in front of my eyes. She gives a lot of different descriptions of how her skin is melting off of her body but I just don't see it. That's when Jack says what I've been waiting for. The obligatory "husband remark".

"There's something wrong with you."

He then backed it up by saying, "No, seriously. Something is wrong with you."

I love how they try to make us feel better. Either way the whole scenario had me in tears and I gave everyone fair warning that this was definitely a story to be shared.

So, Momma, there's nothing wrong with you. Damn, is it hot in here or what?

My Momma Said

Eating dinner with Momma and Morgan one night, Momma had a very important question to ask.

Momma: "Okay, so did Angelina and Brad really break up?

Me: "Oh, Morgan give me my phone. Let me give Angie a call and find out..."

Morgan: Reaches for phone.

Momma: Waits expectedly.

Kids Don't Float, Beer Cans Do Though

I am lucky to be alive. Well, we are all lucky to be alive. Especially with all the drunk drivers and psycho's running around. Oh, and my mother.

The majority of my serious injuries have been dolled out by my mother. Though I have never broken a bone I have suffered a few concussions. Holy crap, stop freaking out! She wasn't abusive, well, not on purpose anyway. She's probably reading this right now and I can bet you a dollar that the word asshole has come out of her mouth....right...about...now. Hi momma. Sorry momma.

So, let's run down the list shall we.

While at a company picnic for her employer all of the kids were outside playing soccer (i.e. mindlessly kicking the soccer ball, we're from Lousianan, we don't play soccer). Someone kicked the ball into one of the efficiency buildings, these are aluminum and are on wheels so they are about 3 or 4 steps up. I of course being super helpful and cute run up the 3 wooden steps and step into open doorway, just as my mother was raring her leg back to kick that ball all the way to sweet heaven. Right? Because we were only like 10 feet outside the building, she wanted that ball to go places. All I see is blur of black and white and BAM right in the face. I woke up on the hood of someones car with everyone staring down at me. "She's fine" someone yells and back to the BBQ they went.

Next, swimming in the lake. We were having a grand time, that is until momma lost her footing and decided to use her 5-year old daughter as a life saving device. Kids don't float lady, especially if you are continuously pushing them under water. I wouldn't let her near me even in the bathtub for months. I quickly learned to wash my own hair.

Once my daddy was leaving for work so I ran outside to tell him goodbye and while running back to the house I tripped on one of those concrete stepping stones and was knocked the fuck out. Now, this one isn't directly her fault but I'm sure she said something like "Hurry your ass up", so basically she pushed me down.

Playing softball, I always refused to pitch while she was at bat because I could never catch her line drives at my head. After being called a pussy I reluctantly pitched to her. BAM. Well, yeah, you know what happened.

There are many others that I can't remember, we'll blame the concussions.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well, because I have a daughter now and after poking her in the eye this morning I realized, it's the circle of life and this kid has no idea the amount of concussions she is due for.

Conversations With Momma

My momma has been one of my best friends for a long time now. Skip over the hellacious teen years though, her description of me for that time was plain and simple.

"You were an asshole."

I will go into more detail about Momma in a post coming soon. I just have to get this small one out because it has made my day, no wait, made my life. She has struggled with her weight for a long time and has recently been told by her physician that she HAS to lose the excess weight for her health. She's been working really hard for the past month or two and is eating right and doing all the right stuff. I am really excited for her. Here is a sample of our conversation today.

Momma: "I'm ###! I haven't been under ### in a long time." (What? You thought I would broadcast a woman's weight all across the intertubes? I'm not rude. Also, I want to live.)

Me: "I know! I am so excited for you!"

Momma: "No you're not. You want me to die."

Me: Peeing my pants, hysterical laughter.

Her: Most certain that she has also peed her pants, hysterical laughter.

The things that woman says.

I love her so much.