A Budding Sommelier

I have another resolution to add to the list.

I want to learn more about wine.

I rarely drank before the age of 28. My first husband claimed to be a recovering alcoholic (and also someone with moral values) so we just didn't drink. At all. Ever.

Once the marriage ended, I did the expected thing and became a club-goer. My girlfriends at the time were beer drinkers but I hadn't yet developed a taste for the stuff, so I started to experiment with drinking wine.

The only kinds I liked were sweet. White Zinfandel was my go-to. I also felt sophisticated when ordering it, and rather adored the image I believed I projected whilst carrying a wine glass around the club. I probably even adopted a little Thurston Howell accent. That would be vintage Fawn.

I have never been one to drink at home. I don't usually keep alcohol in the house at all. To wit - I bought a 12-pack of Bud Light for my football draft in August and finally used the last can in a French Dip crock pot roast about two weeks ago. So yeah, not much of a drinker. I have trained myself to enjoy beer occasionally, mostly because it's everywhere and, let's face it, guys dig a chick who will drink a cold one and watch a ball game. Also? Cheaper. WINNING!

Occasionally though, usually in a fancier setting, I will want to have a glass of wine, and I am clueless about what to order. In the liquor store, I am overwhelmed by the selection. I recently purchased a bottle for a friend's birthday and ended up having the cashier select it for me. Luckily, it was a hit, but I can't take any credit.

I'd like to remedy that. I'd like to order with confidence.



"Yes, I'll have the 1983 Blooo dee blah"

"A fine selection, madam."

On my own, I have branched out to other safe options - Pinot Grigio, Moscato, occasionally a Pinot Noir. I'm not sure what the best way is to learn...but I'm certainly willing to investigate. I'm even willing to bet I could find a friend or two willing to learn with me and, if I'm lucky, a knowledgeable friend who will point me in the right direction.

So tell me...what's your poison?

This ain't Patrick Swayze...

OR IS IT??




I think I have a ghost, you guys.

Or maybe ghosts, plural.

Some history...

My mom has always been a bit of a...free thinker when it comes to the paranormal. When we were growing up, we would sometimes play "the psychic game." She would take 6 cards and on each one she would draw a symbol: a star, a circle, three wavy lines...you get the idea.
Then she would look at one card and try to project to us what she'd seen. We took turns saying out loud what had popped into our heads. OR sometimes, to mix it up, the person looking at the card would ONLY PROJECT TO THE PERSON NEXT TO THEM...and they'd project to the next person...and so on.

I wish I were kidding. I am not.

Mom believes in reincarnation...and in ghosts. Stop by her house any given Saturday night and I'll bet you dollars to donuts that she's watching Celebrity Ghost Stories...or A Haunting in Connecticut...or something in that vein.

So naturally, I tend to pooh all of that as baloney, the way most girls do when it comes to stuff their mom believes.

That said, I've had some...strange occurences throughout my life.

When I was around 2 and a half, as God above is my witness, I saw a cardboard cutout ape coming down the hall growling at me. I know how old I was because my sister Heather was in the crib next to me. I buried my face into my pillow and screamed until my mother came to get me. "It was just a nightmare," she said.

THIS WAS NO DREAM. 37ish years later, I can still describe exactly how it looked and sounded. I know what I saw.

When Farren was a baby, her father worked nights and came home very early in the morning. Usually she would sleep with me, and when he came in he would put her in her crib and then crash. One morning, just as the sun was coming up, I heard whispering...it sounded like dozens of voices, and they were all saying, "Go check on Farren..." over and over again. I went to her crib and she was sound asleep, but her dad had forgotten to put the rail up. If she'd woken up, I have no doubt she would have fallen out. She was just starting to pull up onto things.

Creepy, no?

When I was last married, I was about to doze off and I was facing the wall next to the window. I saw a black shadowy...thing...slither down the wall and behind my dresser. I woke up husband up and made him turn on the lights to investigate, so sure was I that I'd seen something but of course, nothing was there.

I should probably dig into what that one might be, but...you know what? I don't think I want to know.

So yeah. Last night I was in bed. It was around midnight. My door was cracked. I heard the kids in the hallway outside my door. I heard them whispering and I heard a giggle. I heard footsteps moving towards the kitchen. I called out asking who was up. I got up and went to the kitchen and...nothing. I went to the kids room and they were sound asleep.

I went back to bed and laid there about half an hour and it happened again. I went more quickly to the kids room to see if they were playing a trick on me and...

...they weren't. They were in the same position.

You guys. It was not my kids. So who was it?

It is 11:30 p.m. and I am about to try to get some sleep. If I should be found dead or possessed or something by morning (Our Father, who art in heaven...) then this will serve as the Blair Witch of Blogs.

Feel free to share your ghost stories.



It's not like I'm going to be sleeping tonight anyway.

Family Tradition

So recently, my new sister-in-law Sarah got the photos back from her wedding. Immediately, she sent me the following compilation:



What we have here is a comparison/contrast of photos taken with disposable cameras set out at the reception. Top left is me - looking stunning, as usual - then to the right, my brother Josh and his wife Kim. On the bottom is our sister, Angel.

I do not remember when or how this phenomenon started, but it isn't a new trend.



Won't you please enjoy my cleavage?

My best friend used to say I looked like a catfish.

I know there are more pictures like this out there, but try as I might, I cannot find them. Maybe I will create a new album on Facebook dedicated only to this.

One thing is certain. We come by it naturally.




Thanks, Mom.

Saying Goodbye

It's been five days.

I've been trying to write this for five days. Today I am actually putting words onto a screen.

My grandfather had been sick for a while. Two major heart attacks. Diabetes. Other problems, none fun. He was tired. He was ready. We were not. So he held on, mostly for Nana, I think, but also for us. For his daughters. He worried...he tried to prepare them, they tried to prepare us. It wasn't a shock.

The shock is how much it still hurts.

We were all welcome to speak at the service, encouraged even. My children wrote letters to him - unprompted by me - and asked if they could put them in with Grandad when he was laid to rest. They read short versions of them at the service. My aunts and cousins and uncle and a family friend spoke eloquently, sharing memories and stories.

I did not. I could not.

He had nicknames for most of us. Mine is Fawn-do. Fondue. I cannot remember a time when he called me anything else, unless it was "hun."

I wish I'd followed him around with a tape recorder...journaling his stories, his laugh, his advice. What I wouldn't give to hear any and all of that tonight.

What I remember most was his laugh and his voice. How anything he said when I was a child was law. He didn't demand respect - he didn't have to. His authority was absolute and I knew no fear of him. The only thing I ever feared was disappointing him. He loved us tremendously. His family was everything to him. I loved hearing him talk to Nana...to hear them playfully (mostly) bicker back and forth.

I remember spending the night with them, and he always had dinner in his chair when I was young - and he always had salt. I remember the salt. We both ate lots of it. He watched "wrasslin" on TV - I always wondered if he knew it was all fake but I know now that he did. Of course he did. Nothing got past that man. Absolutely nothing.

I went to see him just about a year ago. He was in the hospital for something routine, and he was in Little Rock, so the rest of the family had gone back home. I wanted to see him before going home from work. I got something that night that I hadn't had in many years - his undivided attention. We sat there and talked for a good hour, and after asking after the kids and me, we talked about Nana...the things he was worried about. He laughed and told me she was eating too many cookies and drinking too much soda. He was worried about her. I hugged and kissed him before I left, as I always did, and we said we loved each other.

At 5:00 a.m. the next morning, I got a call. His heart had stopped. He'd been shocked five times and he was back, but probably not for long. We were brought in to say our goodbyes.

Against all odds, he survived it. Along with an unplanned swim in the lake a few months later when the roads were covered in ice.

He loved my grandmother almost his whole life. 65 years. He took a vow to take care of her until he drew his last breath, and that is just what he did. He worked hard, he raised three amazing daughters, and he weathered the storms of the past decade with grace and honor, always. He is, without any question or competition, the best man I have ever known. I miss him more than I'd have even imagined possible.




I love you, Grandad.

Be careful going home.

Friendship: Proceed with Caution

People who call me a friend generally appreciate my lack of a filter. I am sure there are people who call me an acquaintance who do not share that appreciation. However, being friends with me brings with it loytalty and a fierce - when necessary - level of protection. If I feel like a friend is being treated badly, or manipulated, or hurt - I am without the will to keep my mouth shut. This is both a curse and a blessing.

Lately, it has ended up being strictly a curse and has cost me some friendships.

To be quite honest, it cost me my most important friendship. But I am not ready to talk about that yet....the pain is still very raw.

However, I will talk about THIS. THIS OTHER THING.

So Friday night I unexpectedly found myself without kids - I was supposed to have one but things changed at the eleventh hour. I called up one of my girls and we went out to sing some karaoke at our favorite dive.

The night went as it usually does with us, with the usual parade of folks. I sang a few songs, we talked at length about this couple we always see there (look how happy he is now that he has a girlfriend! he's in a nice shirt! and he bought some of that spray hair!)(if he can find love, why can't we?)

The usual.

So I notice a woman at the bar that I haven't really officially met but whom I know is dating a friend of mine. Their relationship is, according to his Facebook page, SOLID. They seem happy, and are very much in love. They did go through a rough breakup several months ago, but from what I could glean from our conversations, it was because he screwed up and he eventually won her back, after MUCH MUCH mooning and whining and generally becoming one of those people whose statuses I need to block lest I lash out at them.

But now? Happy.

I saw a man come in, someone I also know. I hadn't actually seen him in a few years, and I was going to go up and say hello but...let's just say he was pre-occupied.

With my friend's girl.

Now...I try not to judge people. I know this isn't any of my business. I KNOW. So I tried not to pay them any attention. I did mention it to the friend I'd brought with me, since she also knows this guy friend...so we were both watching them. I debated getting involved. I hate the dramz. You guys KNOW i HATE THE DRAMZ. But when I got ready to leave, it had been over an hour and he still hadn't come up for air long enough for me to even say hello to him.

So I did the bad thing.

I texted my friend. I didn't give a lot of details. I just told him his girl was at a bar with someone I knew and I would want to know it if it were my S.O. canoodling in a public place.

I'm not going to get into the details about what has happened since. Let's just say I got a not-very-nice message from her, which I responded to not with an apology, which is what I think she mistakenly thought she deserved, but with conviction that my vision is indeed working QUITE WELL and that I stood by what I said.

SIGH....

So at the end of the day, the dude hasn't said anything else to me. And I probably should have just kept my mouth shut. God knows, I've been the victim of salacious gossip. OH, haven't I? But this wasn't gossip. I actually witnessed this with my eyes and I was appalled.
What he chose to do with the information at hand isn't for me to say but...should I have kept it to myself? I don't know. I'm learning though that maybe my definition of friendship isn't the same as the people I hold dear, or even the ones I hold kind of at arm's length.

Now I put it to you, friends - would you have sent the text? Or kept the info to yourself?

If I'm wrong, I'll admit it. But I'm gonna need some backup.

Back to School...

We toured Brendan's new high school the other day.

We talked to various groups and debated about which ones Brendan might be interested in joining (none) and which ones his mother would be THRILLED to see him get into (golf, teen court, band) and which ones, in the name of future popularity, that he should probably pass over (chess club, FFA).




My high school student. Good Lord.

So...then we went into the gym...and oh my goodness. The smell of that gym brought back, in one instant, all the desperation and ecstasy and hope and PROMISE of high school. I remembered pep rallies and games and Prancer practices. The things that REALLY mattered back then. Cute boys. Mean girls. College applications. ACT scores. Prom.

It is hard for me to believe that my own kids are now living through those same experiences. And it made me wonder - have I prepared them? Have the lessons I have tried to teach, by being an example of what to do - and probably more often what NOT to do - been enough to keep them on the straight and narrow?

I was hardly an angel in high school, but comparatively speaking, I was a pretty good kid. I only had a couple of boyfriends. Never made it past first base until I was out of high school and engaged. Never snuck out, only drank once, and it was under my parent's...semi-supervision. Never tried drugs. And the biggest reason, I think, that I didn't do any of those things wasn't because I was afraid of my parents or of how it might affect my future. I probably could have found the popularity I so desperately wanted if I had gone to parties and screwed around with boys. But I didn't, and the reason I think is because I am such a control freak that I didn't want to let any substance, or urges driven by hormones, dictate my actions.

I realize that this makes me an oddball. I have come to terms with that.

The truth is, though, that none of us has it figured out, in spite of the fact that we all know people who seem to have done. We are all struggling, and growing, and learning as we go. We should forgive each other for that.

So as I send my kids off to high school, I will trust that I have taught them enough, and what I haven't taught yet, I am learning right along with them. We'll figure it out together.

With G'n'R, Metallica, and Def Leppard as our background music. Because that's one thing I have taught them. Good music.

OH. And great shoes. Because these are my kids we're talking about, after all.

I can (almost) see the light...

Things have been a bit sticky as of late.

You know that Murphy’s Law stuff? I think there’s something to that. When it rains it pours, and all of that.


However, I detest people who use Facebook to cite their many woes and problems – particularly those that seem incapable of posting anything else. If your life truly does suck, then for the love of all things chocolate, make some changes. Do SOMETHING about it.

Then again, I guess I could just hide the posts of these folks from my stream, yes? Sigh…I’ve always been afraid I’m going to miss out on something good though. I’ve been like that since I was a kid. And patience? No. I am Miss Instant Gratification. These are just a couple of my flaws. Add them to the list.

So back to the subject at hand…I have recently changed jobs – and no, contrary to jokes from friends, it is not because my attempts at pole dancing were unsuccessful. The place where I was working is not operational for the next 9 months due to renovations. So after a month – a long, ramen-noodle filled month – I am finally back to work full-time, although it is temporary for now. This place is BY FAR the coolest place I have ever worked, and I am desperate to join them permanently. To that end, I am working hard, coming in early, leaving…well, leaving on time, but still. Also, dressing for the job I want, not the one I have. I tried to explain that concept to my kids and I think what Brendan took from that is that he should be dressing like someone who makes a lot of money by doing as little as humanly possible. Carson has started wearing his football jersey every day, and Jillian lives in her cheerleading uniform.

Somewhere, my lesson has gone awry.

A few more weeks of Ramen noodles and PB without the J sandwiches are in our short-term future, until I have recovered from the weeks without pay – and hey, feel free to contribute to the cause, if you want. I have no qualms about easing your conscience by allowing you to treat us to dinner.

Ooh you know what’s really cool though? This new place? Offers free counseling sessions for all employees – one of their many STELLAR benefits. Any other thoughts on how to shine?? So much so that when my temporary gig is up (I’m covering for a woman on maternity leave for 14ish weeks), they will be desperate to hire me on permanently?? I’m all ears.

And power suits.


(Also accepting all donations towards the purchase of this outfit. BECAUSE I NEED IT.)