It’s A Miracle We Even Survived; Christmas 70’s Style.

I originally wrote and shared this post in 2010. I was thinking about this post when I wrote the Santa one this past week, (and then my second Santa post!) then my friend Kari found and read it while looking for info on my brother Mark (but not in that stalker-ey way) so I’m re-blogging it because frankly, it cracked ME up and I wrote it. I recall that when I shared this, my Mom died laughing too. Just to be clear, The cancer killed her, not my witty-as-hell blog post.


My Brother and I certainly were not spoiled or even overly-attended-to children. I can’t say we were abused or neglected. But maybe there’s a version of that: Neglect Light? Unattended But Loved? Raise Yourselves, I’m tired? But it all changed when Christmas came. Along with Santa, came my Grandparents {my Dad’s parents} they loaded up their car in Miami with as many games & toys as they could fit in their trunk and back seat and spent each Christmas with Mark and I. Mind you, my parents were divorced and they chose to spend Christmas with my Mom, their ex daughter in law; they adored my Mom, Mark (of course Mark!) & I. Those few days of attention and fun were what we craved terribly.

One year I recall them opening the trunk and all I saw were two huge plastic garbage cans with lids on them. They were so clever, they knew my Mom needed new cans and inside them were all of our wrapped gifts. That takes Oscar the Grouch to another level.


My very first Christmas. I looked a little scared, but I had no idea what was to come in the future. I should have climbed back into Beverly’s lady kitchen and hunkered down because these people might be insane. And in case you’re wondering, no, we didn’t want ANY ONE else to have tinsel, we we took it all.


I must have been around 4 here. G’ma is trying to help Mark and I find our way through the bazillion gifts; I am lost, confused, and beginning to go into shock.  It looks like 12 kids live here. Also, being a NOT spoiled child, I was gifted a rescue siamese kitten this year, she’s on the rocking chair. Chrissy; oh I adored her. She was my constant companion until her untimely death 7 years later. We really can’t have nice things.

X

Please note the fire safety hazards: The brown electric heater in front of the fireplace loaded with paper, a bottle of whisky and the ashtray filled to high heaven on the coffee table. I’m certain there was a can of gas lurking under the couch. 


Mark and I Christmas Eve {Suz 6?} That is my G’pa in the background; gosh, I loved him so much. I bet you a million dollars he was playing solitaire and smoking cigarettes in one of those weird filter thingys.

Christmas Mark and Suz

Now, look at that tree above again. Is it just me or does it look like Helen Keller was in charge of the garland application?

Christmas morning: Mark has bed head and I look perfect. Probably because I didn’t sleep all night; when the adults were knee deep into the rum balls I found a liter of coke in the kitchen and consumed it. The liquid soda! I didn’t do real coke until 4th grade. KIDDING. I’m holding my doll Cindy.  Right now Cindy is in my hall closet wearing a one-shoulder nightgown and suffering from a severely bad haircut, thanks to my Brother. Pogo Sticks: because breaking your ankles should be more action packed. Check out the typewriter on the floor, it had windows 5.

Christmas Mark and Suz 2


When I got older, there were fewer gifts. Heck, I was not even allowed to open this ONE gift without performing first. I look traumatized, whose idea was this? BTW: This was in the haunted AF townhouse.

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I am guessing this is a wrapped bottle of Jim Beam.  Thanks Mom.

My how times have changed. There is no smoking, electric heaters or tinsel at our house, but my girls will each get a box of wine this year along with bedazzled/personalized shanks.

Ok, maybe it has not changed that much.

xoxo 

Can we all take a moment and appreciate my healthy hips?

That might sound odd to some people, but most of you not.so.much because weirdlings attract weirdlings.

At my last Lady Dr. appointment, while poking my parts, my Dr. ordered a bone density test and I fulfilled my obligation to my bones last week. Have you had this done? It’s the easiest test I’ve ever taken; had they offered me this instead of algebra in HS, I would have been the freakin’ Valedictorian.

It literally takes less than five minutes, I can lay down for the entire process, I don’t have to un-clothe myself and I can talk while it’s being done. That’s what I call a trifecta. I know, that’s not what trifecta means at all, but this is my blog and I have my own language, so get on board.

I had one five years ago, but I don’t remember the results or if my Dr. even gave me my results, you see, I’ve slept a lot of hours since then so things tend to get fuzzy. But this time I was a willing and woke participant at our appointment.

Y’all: I got an A+.

I have great bones; like an old house that just needs some spackle paint.

Like a workhorse with many years left in her; saddle me up!

I’m cleared for falling down and probably not breaking a hip.

Have you seen hips like those? Take that SHAKIRA, SHAKIRA.

Am I being too humerus with you?

In all honesty, I was kind of worried going in because my Mom, God bless her, she was the incredible shrinking lady as she aged. I think she started at 5’4 or 5’5, but by the time she was 70 she was about 4″11. I figured that was going to be my fate, and honestly, it ain’t over yet, the fat lady has NOT sung, so I still might shrink.

My Dr. said that most women start to lose bone mass at this age, so mine were looking HAWWWTTT as HELL.

Ok, she didn’t say that, but I’m sure she was thinking it; I could just tell she was admiring my amazing bone structure.

She credited me with getting enough calcium in my diet (I do not take a calcium supplement) and of course consistent strength training, which I started about 6 years ago. You can’t really tell by looking at me because ‘menopause waistline’, but I pick up heavy things three days a week at the gym and that is good for my bones. Your bones. Everybody’s bones.

Now, when I see someone looking in my direction at Costco or Publix, I know what they are thinking: DAMNNN, look at the cartilage on that chick.

So, now I’m just bragging about everydamnthing. Next week we’ll cover my overly organized Tupperware Snapware drawer.

Kidding. Unless that’s the kind of thing that does it for you.

It certainly does it for me; that and good bones. Goodness, I can’t stop touching them! MY BONES, NOT MY Snapware.

Damn it, you caught me, I was lying, I like touching both.

Happy Friday my friends! Whatcha doing this weekend? Tell me about your bones. Or just about anything good that you found out this week.

XOXO

Finding weird things under your pillow or in a toy box isn’t so weird in our house.

The post below was originally shared in 2014. I’m re-sharing it today because of what we found in the Barbie box recently; the mystery box contained someone’s teeth.

*giggle giggle* I love my silly life.

My brilliant friend Ernie guessed correctly; I’m assuming it’s because she’s a bit weird too and has a slew of funny kids.


Lucky for most of you, you don’t have a weird Mom.

Unlucky for my girls, they were born to a weirdo.  

I spent a good portion of the weekend in the closet; we are FINALLY going to gut and redo our master closet; top to bottom, side to side.   I was cleaning out bins, cabinets, shelves, boxes, you name it.

I found my Dad’s resume from 1970.  I found diaries from 1979. 

I found letters from my Grandma, my Brother and every card that was ever given to me. **MEMORY HOARDER**

I have my wedding planning-spiral notebook and every shower/wedding card. That is 23 years in the saving and the empty bottle of champs from our honeymoon. I don’t even remember drinking champagne.


I also found the WEIRD.    What is it with Moms and saving the weird?

I found teeth.    Yes human teeth. And not just one box, but three boxes.   I’m pretty sure one box contained MY teeth, because my weirdness does not fall far from the weird tree.  I distinctly remember my Mom bringing down a box at Thanksgiving a few years back.  See, I came by the weird naturally, she drove from GA to FL with my baby teeth in her suitcase.

So, what does a weird mom do?  She puts them under the pillow of her 18 year old daughter while she is at work.

Along with someones teeth, I added a pamplet on how to give a self breast exam.  The victim 18 year old was none too pleased; Linds didn’t find the humor in the ‘under the pillow surprise party.’

Me? I thought it was hilarious and she’s just lucky I didn’t save her first dirty diaper. 


Now, I’m wondering if my Linds had the wherewithal in 2014 to think ahead to the year 2020, me in the playroom with our almost 3 year old great-niece and me finding those teeth.

Well played my brilliant child, well played.