grey gardens?

It is raining up in my living room. The damn roof leak has created a water feature that is neither zen nor relaxing for mama. The dern Buick won't start. This must be how Grey Garden's got started? I can't get to church which means I have 48 deviled eggs I made for the potluck to confort me. If it don't stop raining I might build me an ark out of the kids old Lincoln Logs. I don't need two of everything on my ark- just two bartenders and a hair dresser. Hello, Sundee mornin'

the problem with facebook

Here is the thing, childrun. I really try to be "hip." I try to stay "with it," up to speed and stuff. Why? Because I am cool with all that but this internet shit is about to drive me to drank. I mean, first they want me to get on myspace but then that turns to all glittery sparkly pages and it makes me crash my computer. My laptop is an old Atari hardwired with a Commodore Apple and a 12 Volt AutoZOne car battery. The damn thing crashes when my microwave timer goes off, I don't need your glittery pages and songs and mood status.

Then I get on the facebook and the twitter. Here is the thing about twitter. You have to say shit with an "@yourmama" Well I don't give a Fu@k about hearing these short little whines and rants on twitter. I don't care what Ashton Kutcher had for lunch or what Miley Cyrus thinks about foreign politics.

So, I get on face book. But I don't like this either. Aside from feeling like some sort of pedi-file, I just don't like people getting on my face. And now you gotta be a fan of every little damn thing. I get it- if you want to send me a message or you want to catch up with an old classmate or spy on your ex-husband. But I don't need to know what imaginary farm animal you are recruiting or why you need it? That is just weird. I don't want to join your mafia, I am packin in my purse so don't sneak up on me. I don't want to be a fan of any politician or a store. Can you imagine? Let me be a fan of Dollar General, PONTIAC, DOVE SOAP, and asssorted boxed wines.

Now businesses have pages? I want to be a fan of a strip club: the KITTY CAT CLUB in Cleveland? Yes, then I can be a fan of the FREE CLINIC? It's gone too far. See this is what happens. You get a good thing and you go too far and it's ruined. It's just like what happened to jump suits in the 1980s. You have a perfectly useful and acceptable clothing option but people want to make it sporty and put a damn stripe on it- now you have a track suit. Or, you want to make it formal and put puff paint, mirrors and blingy shit on it. We just take things too far and they are worthless, just ruined.

There, you're welcome.

mutha's day

MOther's day has done snuck up on us chuldren. You may not know this about Mama but I raised myself two lovely daughters. One of em done moved up on outta here and got a fancy career. She married some body who can't stand mama so we don't speak much. The other one is crazy outta her head but Mama loves her most of the damn time.

People ask me, what makes you a successful single mother? Well, these children got fed and got out in the world. They are not currently incarcerated and I am particularly proud of that. I am even more proud when they ain't late on the rent and asking me for money for the damn light bills.

I tell you what chuldren, being a momma ain't no easy job. I look at my sister and she is raising two little babies and I think good Lord I can't do that. These babies are sweet as sugar most of the time but sometime they little children when they have a wii in their hands. I guess most kids are though. I am so thankful mine are grown, because I don't have enough nerve pills left.

What is the hardest part about being a mama? Well I would say letting go. These lil' bastards of mine held on to my uterous like it was a basketball goal. I reckon it's hard for all of us to realize our kids are grown up little people and one day they will leave us. They are little minds and will go out and make a way for themself in the world. Sometimes you don't keep a great relationship with your kids or your mama for that matter. I, myself, always thought I owned them kids but then they got out on they own.

So, I hope for Mother's Day you can mend fences if you got mad, or whatever and bring your mama a gift box set of WHITE DIAMONDS by that lady Elizabeth Taylor. Remember to tape the receipt to the bottom so your mama can return it to Wal-Mart but in the meantime she will act like it's her favorite thing next to the snuggy you gave her for Christmas.

tacky

So the other night was an event called DINE OUT FOR LIFE which is an excuse to go someplace nice for dinner with a portion of the proceeds going to a good cause, Nashville Cares, a wonderful organization that helps persons with AIDS and educating the community. However, because I am a snarky old bitch, I couldn't help but think of slogans they could have used to promote it:

Eating out AIDS, Giving AIDS Hell

EATING for AIDS: please hold your pickle

Maybe a sticker: My pants got tight for AIDS?

"Oh damn this AIDS food is good?"

Yes, I am tacky and I would never make fun of any person but it's fun to make fun of words isn't it? And of course, the halibut was asking for it.

Did I go too far?

music

Mama loves all kinds of music. I admit I love pop and even country. But I cannot understand some of the lyrics. I'm okay with the less than perfect grammar, otherwise I wouldn't be able to get my groove on to the likes of Ke$ha and Rihanna. Side note maybe I should change my name to MotherB@rry? Mix it up with some symbolism like Ke$ha?

What I cannot stand is when country music talks about food. I hate that song chicken fried. I know, some of you like it. God knows i love me some fried chicken, too but not in a song. Country music should be about love, breaking up and drinking, not fried food.

your mother regrets

Oh Chuldrun,
I am full of regrets today. I feel I have neglected you letting so much time go on by. I am the worst mother, it's like I left you in the car with the windows up in the heat of the summer while I was in a bar, or worse yet Wal-mart. Please forgive me and know that you- yes YOU- are my favorite child. Don't tell the others they'll just get mad.

So, today, I feel I can best express my feelings and catch you up-to-date with a mismash of er'ythang that's been goin' on. Here goes: (and please try to keep up)

You can't make this shit up:
So Mama decided it was time to be responsible. I felt that I should save the earth and hug a tree (ironically I have pictures of that from college but I was drunk at the time). So, I set out on a mission to buy a Prius. Well, honeys, wouldn't you know I had a nice senior citizen sales lady person named Brenda. She was a hoot and a hot mess, albeit she needs to do better with the sun protection. Miss Brenda, who holds a special place in my heart, is starting to look a little like a basketball from too much time on the lake. I digress... me and leatherlady Brenda took the new 2010 Prius out for drive. Now, understand Mama is a Lexus-drivin' Toyota supporter and I thought it was my time to get green. Until... the damn car stalled out on us. Babies, I was pushing the pedal and then mashin on the gas and Miss Brenda was yelling at me to go faster because we were on the freeway and I tell you- hand to god and on my grandmother's jewelry that thing turned off. We coasted off the freeway and into a parking lot safely. Then Miss Brenda got all flustered and her manager came and picked us up (in a pickup truck no less). What bugged me the most was that they didn't say sorry. They were mad at the car. I was like, hey, I'm not just here for the ride riiight? Anyways, needless to say I won't be getting a Prius and I worry these fine folks at Toyota are having big problems. I think I will do my part by planting trees at the condo complexes downtown.

Why, God, Why?
Mama has been cooking at home a lot. I'm not a great cook but I do know how to throw some green beans in a pan and steam them. So, as a result of my lack of eating dinner in a bag and ordering by numbers, I went to the Doc and found out I had lost 6 lbs.... well not to worry childrun I found them! I had left them at the bottom of a bag of chick-filet.

Never trust a man named Will
The word will means: determined or sure to... well my will in mention was determined to give me a headache this very morning...
So my favorite bartender friend, Will, says to me last night: You've had tequilla, and whiskey. You should have a vodka drink then you can't blame it on any of them. Just have em all. What the hell kind of fool says something like that to an old lady? Even worse is the old lady that believes him. I woke up this morning feelin' like I'd been drinking from the toilet bowl, again. It's a terrible feeling that can only best be remedied by an egg mcmuffin. Now, you say an egg mcmuffin is healthy right? It's one of the best choices at the golden Arches home of all things triglyceride but it's my Jewish grandmother's voice that rings in my ears that I need to take advantage of the deal here. It's a greater value to get the meal- I mean the price of the meal is only a $1 more and you get a tall diet coke, and they are sneaky about throwing that little piece of heaven hashbrown in there, too. The truth is childrun, nothing at McDonalds is healthy and it's best to drive on by it. But, if you see Mamas big white lexus in there you better get outta her way because she is in need of some mcMedicine.

Word games?
Last night I was on somebody's fancy computer phone and found myself playing a game of online scrabble. Yes, children word games. Do you know what is fun about spelling games? Nope, me neither. But I was playing this game and letting it have it. I am worried the next game we will play will be something like : Square Root Fun, or Find the HiddenTax Law? And it occurred to me, that we were all playing this game on a phone sending it to somebody else's phone and nobody was talking. But we were in a ten foot perimeter of each other. Does this bug the hell out of you? I remember when we used to play board games. Now, we have 700 friends on facebook but we are home alone at night with our computers. It just puzzles the hell out of me- all the isolated connectivity in the world.

So, yes, childrun I know that this is not nearly enough information for you and my apology is stale at best but I will make it up to you. In the meantime, I need to take a midol and lay down flat. I can't sleep past 630am anymore even on the weekends and I need to rest my eyes for a minute.

happy easter

you know something children, today is one of those potato salad holidays. Do you know what I mean? We all put on new flowery dress from the Lane Bryant, and our brand new white sandals that we got from Pay-Less but tell cousin Vynell (that is pronounced Vie-nell not vinyl) that we bought them at Nordstroms when we were (never) in New York because she beliefs such foolery and it makes our hearts warm to think she thinks we are cultured. Vynell is a delicate soul, very judge-mental and pretty much just mental. She thinks Macys really cares about her business which is why they allow her to return outfits she had already worn. She also thinks her late husband invented cruise control but alas was robbed by Detroit. That's another story for another blog, let's get back to our lesson about the Egg Day.

We watch the little children run around and look for eggs and laugh when it's our nephew that slams one of the other kids to the ground in the hunt for the Golden Egg. Maybe one day he'll grow up to be a banker. We pray we don't step in any sink holes or snake dens while walking around the grass helping him cheat to find those eggs, I mean help direct his little soul.

Our whole family gathers to partake in such wonderful cuisines as potato salad, german potato salad, potato casserole, sweet potato salad, lima beans with bacon and my personal favorite, fried chicken and deviled eggs. We pile our paper plates high and wash it all down with sweet tea. Then we do the obligatory raise of the plexiglass dishes to see who brought what? Where I come from everyone brings their homemade dish in a glass tupperware contraption with their name taped to the bottom. That way I can say, I don't know who made this potato salad but it is delicious. What is in that, is that seasoned salt? Then you lift up the dish and say, look here it was Cherlene. She needs to watch all that salt with her high blood pressure. Bless her heart.

Then we wash the dishes and high-tail it out there by 3 o'clock because we've had just about all the screamin' kids we can handle and we're about to push ourself into a diabetic coma with the pecan pie and the chocolate eggs.

But, when we all climb into our Buicks and head for home, I want you to think about what Easter's really all about? It's about new beginnings. It's never too late for you to change. You can do something exciting. You can pop that work out tape in your vcr? You can book that cruise you've been eyeing in the Sunday papers. Maybe you want to try highlights for Spring? Don't get too crazy. Or maybe you'll think, what do I need to change in my life? Do I need to be a better person? Is there a life I haven't been living? Did anybody else get that from the Bible or did you wait for one of those Mel Gibson movies?

Mama's got some changes on the horizon. Life is all about changing. It's got to be or else we'd never get anything done. There are 2 lives for all of us … the life we live and the “unlived” life within us.

I hope you and yours have a wonderful Easter and enjoy the potato salad.