The One Where I Talk About Bev. Again.

Yesterday was my Mom’s birthday and this was the first time since she’s passed (6 years) that I didn’t celebrate with Mexican food & a margarita with two of my besties in her honor. Don’t ask me why. I can’t blame the pandemic because even last year the three of us zoomed together.

My mom was fairly simple. She loved margaritas, music, baking, her family, Latin men, lottery tickets, dancing in the car, striking up conversations with total strangers (which horrified me as a kid, but I do it now), The Price Is Right & QVC.

Beverly on her 70th birthday.

I recall the conversation when I phoned her months before her 70th. “Mom, I’m gonna take you away for your birthday; I was thinking maybe a B & B in the mountains, A cute place on the beach, A spa stay or we could go to Vegas.”

Without missing a beat she said: VEGAS!

Vegas it was. We had a lovely time; we stayed in a nice hotel, enjoyed nice dinners, Mom played the slot machines as much as she wanted and we saw Jersey Boys and LOVE. Since Coach and a bajillion airline points, I met her in ATL and we flew First Class; her first time ever. Boy am I ever glad we had that get away together because just under two years later, she was diagnosed with effing ovarian cancer.

Mexican food and a margarita on her 72nd birthday. She was feeling like hell, but put on a smile for a few hours.

I stayed with her off and on durning her treatments; 2-3 weeks there, go home for a week or so, then back again. It was a good time to be with her and she really appreciated our time together. She never really complained about being sick, but I did see her cry a few times and she would say she was just feeling melancholy. Chemo was a bitch and I know she felt horrible. In hind sight, we should have skipped that altogether.

She passed away 6 weeks after that little birthday celebration and I still miss her terribly. I’ve said it before, my Mom was not a conventional Mom, she was honest when she said that Mark and I were raised by wolves. We were basically left to tend to ourselves, but hey, look how amazing I turned out?

She didn’t have an easy life. She was never financially secure & she was a notorious, self proclaimed: Poor Pecker Picker. She endured a horrible marriage to my father and watched her son slowly lose his battle with AIDS and die at 26.

I still can’t even imagine how she forged on after Mark’s death.

I think of her daily and I know that she would be SO darn proud of our girls and she’d be beside herself with us having a home in the Georgia Mountains. My Mom was born in New Jersey, lived there as a kid, then Florida as a young adult and then moved to Georgia when I was 12. You’d never know she’d lived anywhere other than Georgia as she was the embodiment of a Georgia Peach, right down to the accent. I can still hear her answering the phone: Heeeyyyyyyy

I actually started my blog for my Mom. She and I had not lived in the same state since I was 15, so this was a nice way to keep her updated on our family. My blog brought her a lot of joy, especially when I wrote about my childhood shenanigans. She would call me sometimes and we’d laugh about all the nonsense and how I’d survived it so well.

The Coach and I ended up going out for an early dinner yesterday, so I was able to have a margarita in Bev’s honor. I had to substitute a Greek salad for Mexican food, but she wouldn’t care since I could do no wrong in her eyes anyway.

If you are lucky enough to have a parent or two, call or write a note to them today. When I think of the times I did let my Mom’s calls go to voicemail when I was semi-busy, it makes me want to take a spoon to my eye.

Big hugs!


Snap Out Of It Or Not, But At Least Enjoy The Views.

I’m having one of those weeks where I feel heavy. And not the ‘my azz is huge’ type of heavy. I’ve not been my typical pollyanna, happy-as-a-lark girl. We’ve all been there, a couple of things can bring you down to ground level when you’re usually soaring at or above butterfly level.


Like sands through the hourglass, this too shall pass.

I was wandering, probably aimlessly with the dogs when I noticed how many orchids were blooming in various crotches or baskets on our compound property.

{SIDE BAR: I was looking for a Crotch Post to link back here, and in my search, I found out that I’ve written the word CROTCH more times than I’d like to admit in the past 13 years. Is my blog flagged?}

Surely colorful orchids can snap me out of a funk, right?

And you might have thought I was ONLY The Queen of Butterflies, but no, I’m also the Head Honcho of the Orchid Department.

*wipes brow from carrying such a heavy burden*

Ok. I have to fess up, I really don’t do anything with the orchids to get them to continually bloom. They just love the environment and the sound of my voice as I tell them how special they are.

I found my ‘to be inserted in a crotch or basket‘ assortment of orchids on the lanai and one of them had started reblooming as it was impatiently waiting for me to tend to them.

Hey, I’ll get there when I get there, I’m SEMI-BUSY.

Bring me your dried up, non flowering orchids and I will give them a nice home.

One of those up there the Coach gifted to me on my birthday, (September!) so I’m a bit behind.

You would think it would be out in a tree ASAP because I remember when he brought it home on my very special day. He handed it to me with a very sweet card and said:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, put this in your crotch.

Please, don’t be jealous of our romance, after 36 years, that’s considered ‘courting’.

I hope all my friends are having a nice week and not feeling the weight of the world, because goodness it is heavy.


Porch Pizza Party, Projects & Perhaps a Pyro Partner?

Gird your loins, she’s talking about Georgia, again.

Kidding. This is a safe zone for all your parts.

That title does make me want to pee though…

We had such a nice time on our last visit to GA, but my only complaint is that time there goes by so damn fast. The Coach agrees with me on this. We planned this trip in between two college softball tournaments that he’s assisting with. One in Jacksonville, FL, and one was conveniently located in North Ga, 45 minutes from our home.

In case you were wondering, I’m the Head Coach of Dogs and Domestic duties.

I was so happy to see that the porta-potty has left our home as 99% of the outside projects are complete. BUT now we have started some inside work; replacing the fake doors and converting a workshop into a bedroom and ensuite.

The outside update really deserves its own post as this was a BIG EFFING DEAL. It started around the first of the year and was just completed when we arrived on April 9th. Have I mentioned that the Coach doesn’t know how to do anything on a small scale? The previous owners didn’t use their backyard. We, on the other hand, will have to live in the backyard now.

On the upside, we are keeping a lot of trades in business.

I’ll share more pics when all the furniture has arrived. But here are Lillie and Callie lounging in the Pizza Oven Area; don’t you love how critters can find a slice of sunshine? Of course, they’re also happy that they sampled some pizza crust; I’m not an animal.

They did the same thing on the upstairs screened-in porch. (this was already here, not new to us)

Oh wait. I forgot I did a little video from the new upper deck area to send to the girls showing some of the new upper areas and the new stone lower patio. Patio? Porch? Deck? Whatever…it’s a lot.

He’s a proud peach.

Coach’s Dad and Step-Mom joined us for a few days and we celebrated my FIL’s 77th birthday.

We christened the fire pit on this visit; my FIL, MIL and friend Tito.

It was all fun and games until a giant moth flew into the flames and I threw a hissy fit until someone turned off the gas. Spoiler alert: It was too late for the moth, but now everyone in the vicinity knows how serious I am when I’m trying to save nature.

You can see in the little video the stone fireplace and the firepit. Plus we now have the old-school wood fired pizza oven; I’m starting to think I’m living with a Pyromaniac. Of course, he’s a sweet Pyro, but a pyro just the same.

Anyone else find out later in life your partner is obsessed with something like fire. Or huge decks. Or Fire AND huge decks?