The year in review (or 7 months w/ 1 set of boobs, 5 w/ another)

Lots of stuff happened this year. I guess it always does. 12 months is a long time for things to happen. Some big things, some little things. Both of these things can pertain to my boobs.

I was not an early developer. I wasn't like some of the girls you see today who have growing chests at age 9, 10 or 11. Nope, not me. You would think that to grow a big chest you would have to cultivate that garden for a long time. I swear that I just woke up one day around 15 and BOOM! there they were. Wow. Yeah. Look. Actually don't look.

I felt like they were always in my way. Especially when I still took dancing.

To think I used to be able to dance. Never mind, that's another blog entry.

I never liked the attention I got because of them. I only wanted the right kind of attention and for the right reasons. Not because I was lucky/unlucky enough to grow these 2 mountainous mounds of flesh.

I could never go braless or strapless or backless. I couldn't wear those cute tank tops or camis with the "built-in bra". Built for who I really don't know but not me!

My mother somehow relented just one time into letting me wear a strapless dress. It was for my junior prom. She said I would be pulling and tugging it up all night. I told her that I wouldn't. I lied. Dammit! I hate when she's right!

Funny story: The reason my other half ever agreed to go out with me was for this exact reason! They told him I had big boobs! That's okay, I was just as superficial. They told me he had a black Jeep Wrangler. When you are 17 and 18 years old, your priorities tend to be, let's say, a little different.

In 2011, I was lugging around 38DD's for 6 months and 25 days because on July 25, I had a reduction. I had timed it perfectly to happen exactly 1 month before my sis lost 8 pounds 3 ounces of herself. When she had my nephew. We were in direct competition for my mom's attention. I knew I had to get all I could before the coming of the Messiah or I didn't stand a chance! It's often handy to have a mother who is also a nurse.

The remainder of the year has been spent with much smaller boobs. Much smaller. Sometimes I feel rather microscopic. I think every plastic surgeon must promise everyone, and I mean everyone, the perfect full C cup size. Not exactly. I lost almost 3 pounds of flesh. Yeah, yeah my neck and back don't hurt as much. But I kind of mourn their loss.

All in all it was a good thing.

My bells will be ringing in a much smaller, quieter 2012.

Happy New Year!

Holiday Memories (or funny sh*# that comes up when u get together w/ people!)

One of the few things I like about Christmas, notice I said like not love, is seeing people that you don't see but maybe once a year. I had to stress the like not love part because I certainly do not love anything about Christmas.

Well, except maybe, reliving the past with some way funny memories.

I lived in the same house from age 2 till 25. A big part of my life. We had a lot of neighbors who we were close with who lived there a long time too. One family still does. We go to their house on Christmas Eve. We play "Dirty Santa" and catch up on all the happenings of the year.

To protect their identities, I will refer to the 2 guys as "Duck" & "Puppy". These are their actual nicknames I did not make this up. My sis & I went to the same grammar school as Duck & Puppy. Duck was 1 year older than me & Puppy was 1 year older than my sis. We all carpooled together. My mom was the driver of this ship of fools. We never let the boys sit in the front seat. That was an honor only given to us. My mom made my sis & I take turns as to who sat in the front. We did this on a week by week basis. We NEVER wanted to sit by the boys. Hello, they had cooties! Years later they revealed they used to fight over who had to sit next to us too!

On Christmas Eve, Duck & I were talking about the "old neighborhood". The one before Katrina, before my old house was torn down and the wonderful neighbors we had. We also laughed about the "things you don't realize when you are a kid".

One of these things were our neighbors, Ms. Cooke & Ms. Yvonne. Two women living together did not seem weird when we were kids. Duck asked me, "Did you know they were lesbians?". I said, "I didn't even know what a lesbian was!".

They were awesome neighbors. And like anyone in my life, certainly a little crazy!..

They had a blind dog and tons of cats. Ms. Yvonne smoked like a chimney & drank like a fish. I never knew what she was "drinking". Ms. Cooke just smoked like a chimney.

They gave each neighborhood kid their own little treat bag at Halloween that included wax lips. Score. At Christmas time, they threw a rockin' Christmas party. They got a flocked Christmas tree that they put the color wheel on. You know the one that has red, blue, yellow and green discs that spin around so the tree looks different colors. Like a bad acid trip, like I knew what that was like as a kid or like I still don't know what that's like but humor me. Each kid got a present. It was great.

Duck & I debated when Ms. Yvonne died. Our mothers weren't 100% sure either. Verdict: a while ago. Then we discussed "The Right Before Christmas Fire of......????". Duck said '89. I said that couldn't be right because I knew other half when it happened. We decided it was '90 or '91

The fire. Poor Ms. Cooke had been living alone for a while by then. There were no parties by then because she was too old & all us kids were getting old too. I remember thinking it was a miracle that those 2 old ladies had never burned the house down with an unattended cigarette before. This must be the cause.

Not even close. Ms. Cooke had run the extension cord for her Christmas tree under the sofa cushions. You know she didn't want to have a safety issue with the cord where someone could trip!

Don't worry, she wasn't home. I'm guessing she had made a cigarette, beer or cat food run. Maybe all three.

Sad part was that she never lived there again. Her daughter decided it was probably too dangerous. I wonder how she drew that conclusion?

So Ms. Yvonne & Ms. Cooke, the kids of the old neighborhood thank you for all the memories.

Duck & I are still laughing.

Why I dislike X-mas (b/c my Gran said hate is a strong word)

First things first. My Gran, who was my mother's mother, hated the word hate. Wait, scratch that, she would have never used the word hate. My Gran disliked the word hate. Her explanation was simply this, hate is a very strong word.

So wait, I don't dislike Christmas, I hate Christmas. And if you grew up with my other grandmother, you would know that the feeling you got about Christmas from her warrants a very strong word.

A few days ago, I told a story about my PawPaw. This story is about his wife, my MawMaw. My PawPaw was sweet & he meant well when it came to the bamboo mirror. My MawMaw would have given that to me with the exact intent of just making sure I didn't get what I wanted.

My MawMaw grew up just as poor & with just as little education as my PawPaw. She was still pissed about this fact. She probably still is. Did I mention this miserable person is still alive? The only 1 of my 4 grandparents who still is. I'm convinced she sold her soul to the devil long ago.

If you know me, you well know I would NEVER speak this way of someone. Unless it was all true!

Everyone now needs to get in their way back machine. Go back to, I don't know, the 1st Christmas that I'm old enough to have a conscience memory, and that will do. Every year & I mean every year, my MawMaw told us what selfish children we were. All kids, at some point, during Christmas probably get a little selfish. It's all the hype, it's all the sugar, it's the hype & the sugar. But guess what? Those selfish children, they don't be us!

Oh no! She's starting to take over my thoughts already with her bad education too! Stop the insanity!

Seriously though not 1 of us, not me, my sis, my 2 cousins or even my half brother, are selfish. We all grew up in median households. 4 out of 5 of us went to Catholic school. Still no selfish children here.

The part of the story that might make Jesus himself hate Christmas is the tale of the brick baby doll.

What you say? You mean Cabbage Patch Doll? No! I said the BRICK BABY DOLL! (I said this in all caps so that you would know I was shouting it.)

My MawMaw always claimed that they were so poor that they couldn't afford for her to have a baby doll so all she had to use to make a doll with was a brick. Really woman? I find this hard to believe. Not the poor part, I know that's true she had 9 siblings. Why a brick for a doll? To make it even more pathetic, she said how she had to take a small scrap of cloth to make a blanket for her doll.

It's a brick not a doll! Ok Mo, deep breaths, deep breaths. This memory makes me start to foam at the mouth.

I think next she used to say that they only had 1 candy cane for 10 kids & her father used to take a hammer & break it up & it was every man for himself. Really you could afford tools? I'm shocked he didn't further traumatize you & grab your baby, AKA the brick, to crush the candy cane with!

Deep breaths, deep breaths....

Still don't believe me? I have a sis, 2 cousins & a half brother who are all as scarred by my MawMaw's tale of woe. Even my other half was exposed to this bat shit crazy mess enough that he could testify under oath to it validity.

Now do you know why I hate Christmas?

Guess who I don't spend Christmas with anymore?

Oh wait, never mind, I just DISLIKE Christmas!

Good things & bad things about disability

I'm sure you must automatically be thinking, what could possibly be good about disability? Now you know I am crazy! There are some good things. I get great parking spaces. Well, usually I do.

Handicapped parking spaces are a hot commodity at this time of year. Hell they are hard to come by almost any time of year. I know that some of you are thunking, no way, I see them open all the time. Trust me that when you need one, there never is one!

The worst place to try and find one is a hospital/doctor's office. Good luck. It's like the disabled people mecca. I guess it makes sense that we are taking up all the places there because I have felt like I lived at a doctor's office.

Many times the parking place isn't configured right. Or actually the one that is available doesn't have the configuration I need. The spaces either has more space on the driver side or the passenger side. Since I don't drive, I need the room on the passenger side. Wish me luck.

It always seems like some very busy places only have like 2 parking places. Shocker: then they are both full. Again all the disabled people are at the same places.

I have been out with my friend Anne more than once and we encountered the following scenario. We are parked in 1 handicapped spot & we see someone else pull into 1 with a handicapped hangtag but they just jump out the car & walk in. Anne has offered to go and beat them up for me because she questions if anything is really wrong with them. I tell her thanks but please don't kill someone in a parking lot because Jeff will have to put us on the news.

I usually follow that with don't worry, they are handicapped, you can't see it because they are mentally handicapped!

Don't forget if you bring me somewhere, I don't mind if you use me to get a good parking space!

How many gifts do you really remember?

A friend of mine, and we all have one of these, was saying how worried she was about Christmas. She would not be able to give her kids everything they wanted. Her husband had a downturn at work and they just didn't have enough money to buy the kid's everything they wanted. She did not like my answer. I said, "Then don't". She looked at me like a pig looking at a wristwatch.

Kids should learn early on just like The Rolling Stones so intelligently said, you can't always get what you want. I'm pretty sure that there has never been a documented case of anyone dying from not getting everything they ask for at Christmas. Pretty sure. I'm willing to bet money on it. I'm not being like Scrooge but I don't think it's a good idea for parents to ruin themselves financially to buy gifts that will only give a few moments of joy.

Enough of that PSA.

This got me thinking about how many Christmas gifts could I really remember? My 1st 2 Christmases are a blur. I do remember for my 3rd that I got my play kitchen. I played with it for years and so did my sister. It might be the last documented case of me liking to be in the kitchen. I then just remember certain toys like Hungry Hungry Hippos and the Mickey Mouse roller coaster. I remember this game I got called Mousetrap. I think the memory is more of my Dad cursing about how GD hard and what SOB thought of the no less than 1 million pieces it had to be put together. Good times.

I really remember when I was 10 or 11 getting my Cabbage Patch Kid (CPK). I was on the fence about Santa Claus. I was pretty sure there wasn't one but I didn't want to ruin it for my younger sister and was afraid if I said it out loud & there was one, I could get nothing. I wasn't risking it. I hadn't asked for one because I had seen the people on TV waiting in lines & fighting over them. My sis started asking for one & my mom is saying sure honey & what do you want it to look like. Later on I tell my mom, "Are you crazy? you can't just go buy one of those!". She tells me that of course she can. She can just go to the store & get one. Oh you silly, silly woman!

Fast forward to Christmas morning. I think I remember getting the talk about you can't always get everything you ask for, Santa can't always make enough, etc., etc. I remember going down the hall & turning into the living room to see a CPK for me & my sis. For that moment & on that Christmas I believed in Santa again. It was awesome!

Years later I found out my mom had waited in those lines and slept in toy store parking lots to get those dolls. Maybe I love that part of the memory more now. That silly silly woman.

And yes Virginia, I do still have that doll. I really do. She's priceless.

Today in the history of my crazy family...

5 years ago today, my PawPaw died. No, no, no it's not sad. It honestly never was for a variety of reasons. I will discuss a few.

My PawPaw sounded EXACTLY like Justin Wilson when he spoke. I reckon he could cook almost as well as him too. Oh and he said I reckon ALL THE TIME. Practically closed every statement with the phrase. Sometimes he opened with it. There may have been times he opened and closed with it. I reckon. My PawPaw did not make it further than 7th or 8th grade. He had 10 siblings and they were dirt poor cotton farmers. If the whole family wasn't picking cotton then there was no money. School took a backseat to picking cotton and then it got out of the car all together. During the Korean War he joined the military. My PawPaw then took his G.I. Bill money and went to carpentry school. Many years later he, a brother and a cousin started a home construction business. They built lots of houses in Metairie during the housing boom of the '70's.

Flash forward to the Christmas of 1990. I have hardly told this story to anyone outside of my family because I could not come to terms with it. Not because it's sad, well depending on your definition of sad. No, I told you he died 5 years ago and this is way before that. I haven't told it because it's a little embarrassing. Now that he's gone I think it's okay. I can finally laugh about it now. It took a while.

God love him and my MawMaw but they are notorious for giving cheap gifts. Lots of years of socks and underwear. One year they even stepped it up to knee socks. Wow. I'm was in my first year of college and getting ready to turn 18. I'm convinced when they ask me what I want for Christmas that I have finally figured out how to get something I want. Not dreamed of mind you but at least I will put it to good use. The dorm rooms at LSU only had one mirror with a light above it. It was too high and set back too far back. I decided I would use and therefore ask for a makeup mirror. You know the kind that is normal mirror on one side, flip it over and it's magnifying. The kind with lights around the mirror. I knew it met there requirements for gift giving. It could be bought at Walmart and more importantly, probably for under $20.

I had finally outsmarted them. My dad usually interjects here with a buzzing noise and then says, "wrong! Game over! Try again!". I knew the box I was handed with my Christmas gift was way too big to be the gift I requested. But I thought that well they were world famous for playing practical jokes with gifts and oh how I wished this was one of those times! I was already dating the now other half by then. He says if there would have been Youtube back then that the footage of my face would have been all over it. I'm lucky this didn't send him running from all this crazy but he says it was way too entertaining.

Ok, I know, get to the gift. Wait, one final important detail, my MawMaw LOVES garage sales. You know one person's trash is probably another person who has good taste's trash too. I open the present and inside is a mirror. A mirror whose dimensions were probably 24 by 24. Around all sides of the mirror there are no lights but instead some lovely "feaux" bamboo. I'm still trying to make the best of this situation. So I swallow hard and tell my PawPaw that I wanted it to be adjustable so I could put it on my desk and sit down and put on makeup. He says to me I reckon if you turn it over you will see that it is. And, I reckon, low and behold, there was an adjustable arm on the back. Also so that the arm didn't open up too far there was, wait for 0it, A mardi gras bead for tension.

I reckon, I got what I asked for.

I did tell you my PawPaw built houses, right? They are houses that are still standing and people still live in them.

I reckon, he thought he built me a good mirror. Well PawPaw, I reckon, that at least now I look back, think of you and laugh.

I reckon, you are somewhere laughing too.

How ever did I get to the 1st day of my 40th year!?!?

I am perplexed, bewildered and just damn shocked at how I have arrived at the 1st day of my 40th year of life. Even today I told someone I was 38. Seems like it was just yesterday. Oh wait, it was just yesterday!

This is the last time you will hear me refer to the fact that now that I am 39, as I am in my 40th year. My memorable story of that tale goes back to when I was working at a retirement community. I had a crazy little buddy there who was in his 90's. He would say when he was 90 that he was in his 91st year. Then he tried to do the same thing to my age. I told him, slow down old man, now that you are in your 90's you may want to advance further but I am not on that plan. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Not even sure I will be there in my 90's!

My new plan is to stay 39. Like Jack Benny. I think from now on this will be the anniversary of my 39th birthday. My crazy mother did it. I think she was 39 for about 8 or so years. I told her she was welcome to stay that age until I started catching up to her because then it would just be weird. I really never thought I would get there.

I remember going to the doctor with my poor grandmother who had Alzheimer's. The nurse asked her how old she was and I hear her say she was 39. I was in my 20's which meant my mom was in her 40's which meant there was no way my Gran was 39. Now I'm thinking what if she was just trying to celebrate the anniversary of her 39th birthday too.

Remember when we were young and you were always 9 and a half or even and three quarters old. I know I was just saying that not too long ago. Actually maybe I am 38 plus 1 year and plus 1 day. Well if nothing else it might just confuse people!

I'm crazy & I'm new

I thought about doing a blog many times before and for many years now. I probably thought about it for the first time not long after I officially became "disabled". I have lots of time on my hands and I can still use my hands, unlike my legs, so I thought ok I should do it. I am such a procrastinator, underachiever, slightly ADD and what was I talking about??? Oh yeah, a blog. I have a friend who has one about her journey with cancer and how to laugh out loud at it. Then I have another who does one about cooking & kids & travel. She has a friend who has a blog about her quest in shopping for new boobs. I like reading each one.

I gave the blog this title because it comes from the movie, "As Good as It Gets". Jack Nicholson tells Cuba Gooding, Jr. a variation of this when he knocks on his door. My husband says it all the time. I think between his crazy, my crazy & even our crazy cat, we are full up on crazy here. In fact, my dear other half often says if you are not a little bit crazy then you are not fun to know. Another favorite quote of his is if you say you don't have crazy in your family, then you are hiding them in the closet! Let your crazy flag fly free! Put it right out in the open for all to see! Who doesn't enjoy crazy? I married it. I'm drawn to it. It may be why people are drawn to me.

My favorite crazy relative was my great aunt, Mildred. She lived a few doors from my grandparents house where I spent a ton of time. Her house was a child's mecca. Aunt Mildred always had candy, cokes and snacks galore. She had a bingo game that had the big metal ball that you cranked around with all the wooden balls rolling around inside. I thought it was fab! Aunt Mildred taught me how to play blackjack. For money. Big money, nickels!

Aunt Mildred had probably saved every hat, purse, piece of jewelry and even dresses she ever owned from the '50's and beyond. My sister and I loved to play dress up with them. There was one prize possession in the collection. Hence the problem that there was only one for two girls to fight over. The mink stole! It was wonderfully chocolate brown and so soft. We would have a death match over who got to wear it. One day she must have gotten tired of us fighting over it. Aunt Mildred walked in the room, grabbed the mink and cut it in half! Problem solved. Everyone was happy.

I strive to be just like my crazy great aunt Mildred. I want to not worry about stuff and do whatever it takes to make my godchildren, nieces and nephew happy. They will always love, and remember their crazy old aunt!