Hi mommy. We never did anything like everyone else. We always moved our holidays. This year is no different with the fact we moved it. It is different because you are not here. Today would be our christmas day. So,
MERRY CHRISTMAS MOMMY!!!!!
I thank god every day that I had you as my mommy. I only hope and pray I will be a good mom like you were to me. Love you always!!!
Remembering ...... and missing you. Loving you
I found another story Colleen told me during an "instant messagng chat"-- actually, a story and a half-- on March 26,2004. We were "speaking" of cabbages and kings, as we were wont to do, and got on the subject of spooky movies. Colleen said she had loved watching "Zacherle" on Saturday nights and was then reminded of the first time she saw one of Hitchcock's most famous movies. (I've taken out my inane response lines with "LOL!" and such so that her recount will read bettter.)
oh man..I remember... I'd never seen Psycho... one night... when I got home from work it was on tv... so I watched it with my husband
freaked me right out...
then of course my husband tortured me FOR WEEKS... ripping open the shower curtain!
coulda KILLED him
I was threatening to put a bell on his neck!
couldnt shower for months!
had to wait for him to be sleeping or working... or just take a bath with a can of hairspray close by!
*giggles* I can still laugh... the baby got the payback on him...
I had to go to a funeral... and my husband gets easily overwhelmed by the size of my family... so he got to babysit
somehow... my daughter who was like 16 months old got hold of a red bic pen
she used to love to play in the tub... so when he heard her making noise from the bedroom... he ran a small tub... and went to undress her
now it was pretty dark in the room... no light... unless you turned one on
and the light was too bright to just flip it on into the baby's eyes... so he just used the light from the doorway
he carries her to the bathroom... plops her into the tub... and there's all this RED everywhere!
he FREAKED
couldnt find a cut or scratch... but... there was all this RED... and the water was getting pink!
she HAD to be bleeding from somewhere!
I happened to be walking in the door like one breath of a moment later
he walks out of the bathroom... he's totally... like ready to faint... saying over and over: I didnt hurt her... I swear!
I'm wondering...what the HELL?
did he drop her or something???
I just about busted a gut when I saw her
I KNEW it was ink... you cant mistake Bic Red!
it must have fallen out of my suit into her bed the night before and I didnt see it
she ate the point!
*rolls her eyes*
probably thought it was some new kind of bottle or something... she sucked the ink out
smeared all over her
what a mess!
*giggles*
Flight Of Fancy From Colleen!
Dear Rob,
I just found something in my files you and Jess should get a giggle from!
In one of her notes, Colleen had said something about "raising a ruckus." I
wrote back, asking if Ruckuses were hard to raise, if they made better pets or
burgers, if they could be trained to use a litterbox, and if the plural of "Ruckus" was indeed "Ruckeses" or "Ruckusi."
She replied, on March 11, 2004:
Ruckuses are amazing creatures. (and it is Ruckuses..not Ruckusi; those are
dwarf Russians with bad tempers...dont want any confusion there)
They are born nearly fully grown, needing only a minimum of supervision. The
first Ruckuses sank off shore when coming to populate the new world. They were so popular amongst the natives and pilgrims, that a salvage boat was built in short order and they were rescued from the briney deep. Hence the term: "Raising a Ruckus"
Because they manage to survive, in almost ANY climate, and having sat underwater so long waiting for rescue, they have more salt per square inch than most people or places, with the exception of Mormons living near the Great Salt Lake.
This is why Ruckuses and Mormons can be found knocking on your door at any given moment, dispensing litters of leaflets to clutter your coffee table.
WARNING: do not place Ruckus leaflets next to open containers of Chinese Food with MSG. They will mate once the lights are dimmed...and produce a third world country capable of wiping out manufacturing and diabolically causing a huge rise in unemployment.
Ruckuses are fairly non-violent when kept singly. In large groups, however,
they tend to run rampant. (A rampant is an insect with a taste for freeway
exits) And rampants have no self control...like lemmings, they will keep on
running, better and longer than Timex, till they reach a cliff. At which time they will dive headlong, in droves, (droves are any group of Ruckuses or rampants numbering more than 13) and you will be held responsible for off shore rescue.
This also explains how Ruckuses and rampants have managed to retain the patent on the cliches involving them.
They are busy lil beavers!
*VEG*
Colleen offered this memory on Wednesday, June 16, 2004:
Well...as you all may or may not know...I'm a HUGE fan of grandparents. Mine
were my saving grace in an otherwise nightmarish world. In the beginning (no
biblical quips here thank you), I didnt see my grandfather alot... but I knew
absolutely WHO he was and I loved him deeply.
For some reason, for which there must have been some explanation... my
grandfather was bestowed the name "Danny". Not an unheard of name in an Irish family, but I was absolutely astounded one day to discover... his name was
Robert! Even after this discovery, however, I absolutely refused to call him
anything but the name I knew. Right up until he passed away in 1977.
And I would be furiously insulted when my cousins called him "grandpa". I have
NO idea why... only that I spent HOURS trying to convince them... his name was
"Danny"... NOT... the infamous "Grandpa". I knew he was my grandfather... but
somehow it was against some unwritten rule to call him that! Child's logic I
guess.
Email dated: Jan 14, 2004.......
All's quiet on the NY front, although we're bracing for yet another frozen tundra experience. Yep, winds roaring, temps falling...it's enough to make a spy come in from the cold!
We're also expecting some snow, which I dont quite understand. I remember once being told that it CAN be too cold to snow. I wonder how "too cold" translates into Farenheit.
I've now become the "Bird Lady" here in my lil corner of the Island. I feed birds during the winter...but this year, they seem to be able to identify me. I'm not sure if this is a good thing, considering it's strictly against the lease.
The other day...I was late. Trying to catch up on email, deal with a few 'kid'
problems, really left me sort of frazzled and out of sorts. When I finally remembered that some feathered companions might want a tidbit, I opened my front door, to find 3 sparrows sitting on my stoop, chirping rather agitatedly. Once they saw me, they flew off ...RIGHT to the very spot I toss the seed! Now, this COULD be a coincidence...but...MY stoop...out of 10 possible choices? I'm beginning to think they're not so clueless after all.
I could be in trouble here...if that keeps up!
*grin*
This lil story was found by some of Colleen's online friends. I'm glad they sent it for her memorial page.
Email dated: Tuesday, Jan 13, 2004.
"Frankie"
At one point in time or another, I've become the refuge of sorts for cats, dogs, raccoons, field mice, etc. Having two pet loving kids contributes very heavily to that situation. I remember at one point, we must have had at least 8 cats.
We were living over a stable...the one I mentioned before. One of the prissy equine princesses was very upset. She told me, in huge shuddering gasps, how
there was ONE kitten, left over from a litter her cat had several weeks earlier.
In apparent frustration, the father uttered, not knowing his the apple of his
eye could hear, that if they didnt find a home soon...they'd have it destroyed.
Now I knew these people, and I was quite sure the predicted doom would never happen. But the lil miss couldnt be consoled. Having 5 cats already... I
really wasnt too eager to adopt yet another mouth to feed. Back in those days.... we received only $35 per week, with room and board. Saying money was a lil tight was like saying the Golden Gate is just a lil overpass.
At any rate, I must have been experiencing a very low resistance, and I gravely offered to adopt the lil orphink. Her face and her demeanor changed almost immediately to radiant sunshine. She called her mother, who promised to bring the lil adoptee that afternoon. It was love at first sight. This young thing was a black striped American Tabby, with the HUGEST blue eyes. I mean his whole face was eclipsed by those large round blinkers! After exploring our tiny apartment... learning who would tolerate him and who wouldnt, he climbed up, and not with any great agility, onto the couch and proceeded to crawl up my lap, under a book I was reading and plant his teeny furry butt on my chest.
I absentmindedly reached around my paperback novel to scratch a kitty chin, while I avidly continued to read. It took me a few moments to realize that I had been reading the same passages over and over. I was distracted, and I couldnt determine the cause. Sighing in frustration, I put the book down on the couch and found my gaze held in a vise by the startling sky colored eyes of the lil kitten. I mean, folks, these eyes were breathtaking... even if you didnt like cats.. .this one would have stood out!
I was in the habit of waiting a few days before naming pets, figuring sooner or later, their personalities would determine their names. This one was different... right from the start. As I gazed into the kitty's eyes...he never once turned away...or lowered his gaze, the only thought coming into my mind was how teenaged girls of all shapes and sizes used to sigh and cry over Frank Sinatra in his heyday.
Yep... my mind was filled with thoughts of adoring groupies and Ole Blue Eyes.
I couldnt help it... I immediately named the lil furball... Frankie!
Some connection must have been forged that day. Frankie and I became inseparable. If I was feeding down in the stable, he'd be trotting after me... although the large, four legged, snorting things scared the living daylights out of him. If I was saddling horses for renters, he'd perch, rather haphazardly, on a stall's wall. He'd carry on so mournfully if I had to leave him behind for any reason.
He was my lil love. And when we were relaxing, he'd crawl up onto my chest, facing me and just stare at me.. .as if he'd never seen anything quite so wonderous in his entire lil life. I have to admit, I was quite flattered.
Too soon, the day came, that because of health reasons, we were forced to leave our lil horsey apartment. We searched for weeks for an apartment that would allow cats. We failed miserably to find one we could afford. Thus began the adoption process...all over again.
The last to go...was Frankie. I had tried to pressure family members into adopting my beloved shadow, to no avail. One day, another lil blonde riding
princess came up to me, nearly quivering with excitement, informing me that her
parents had agreed she could bring Frankie home with her. She wanted to collect him right then and there.
I gathered up his lil toys, his dish and some bagged cat food. I picked up Frankie, who was, thankfully oblivious so far, and hugged, petted and pledged my undying affection. I then walked him down the aisle of the stable to the
waiting car and the eager adolescent inside. I placed him in her arms and shut the door.
Then and only then, did Frankie take his eyes from me, nervously looking up that the girl holding him, before looking back at me...his eyes, I swear on a Bible....so incredibly pained. I didnt see anything else as I stumbled back up
into my nearly vacant, box filled apartment.
And no one else saw me... for the rest of the day.
To this day, even though reason tells me he's long been laid to rest, my thoughts will drift off to that small lil face... with the bluest eyes in all creation. I can almost feel his squirming and fidgeting movements make their way up to my chest. I close my eyes, smile and softly whisper...
" Hi Frankie! "
Memories are treasures that no one can steal, death is a heartache that nothing can heal. Some may forget you now that you're gone but I will remember, no matter how long, my heart still aches with the sadness as my eyes shed many tears. Remembering your good days and bad and trying to ease your fears. God only knows how much I love and miss you my love. It has been so lonely since you left me and life has not been the same........ all the world would be like heaven just to have you back again.
Mom, You are in a better pain-free place now and you'll never ever be forgotten!
Michael
