Feed me cheese and call me Kelly, but I’ll still be a liar.

I originally shared this in 2009. I stumbled upon it recently and thought it was worth sharing again; my Mom had her hands full when I joined the scene. 

When I was around 4 or 5, my Mom took me to our beloved shopping mall for a little outing. She thought it would be a good idea to go into the Jordan Marsh department store and try on some new clothes for herself.

Silly woman.

Oh, how I loved that store. Not only did they sell clothes, TOYS, perfume, and shoes, they also had a lunch counter. I think they may have had the best Girl cheese sandwiches ever.

 (it wasn’t until I was much older that I learned it was GRILLED and not GIRL cheese. Now, that made sense that my brother was able to also order it.)

On this particular day, as Mom and I were in the dressing room, and I already had my fill of girl cheese, I was bored to tears with her trying on clothes. 

I made a break for it. I easily climbed out of my stroller, for I am part monkey.

It was so easy to escape my cell  underneath the door, especially when my captor was naked.

These are the things I did to her, but secretly I think she enjoyed all the chases I put her through. How else would a young mom get her daily exercise?

I remember bits and pieces of this day, but as my Mom told the story I think it gets better each time.

I vaguely remember wandering through the clothes department and out into the freedom of the mall.

I kind of remember crossing over the little wishing pond in the middle of the mall; the pond that I dreamt of falling into one day and collecting all the shiny coins.

I vaguely remember the smell of burning candles, pretty colors and twinkling lights.

Alas, I found myself in the Wicks-n-Sticks store. Also known as heaven.


Photo borrowed from here.

Then I remember people asking me ALL sorts of questions; they really wanted to know about me!

What is your name? Where is your Mommy? How old are you?

Wow. A kid can get used to this kind of attention. 

“Why hello nice people, my name is Kelly and I am 9 years old.”

YES, I was a big fat little liar.

According to my Mom, it took 20 minutes for 20 3 deputies and some all of the mall staff to find me. 

Prior to Amber alert days, you could get away with more stuff; the good ole’ days. 

I was a bad, bad girl.

And the name Kelly? Who knows where that came from.

Since I’m a fickle pickle, a year or two later, I changed my name to Cindy.
Cindy Damn Brady. 

The funny part? Today, when I venture to the mall, I still end up in the candle department.  Minus security.


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Is that mess of a kid Suz, Kelly or Cindy?  

How did you traumatize your parents?

C’mon. I know you did. How else would we be friends? 

The one where I thought I had nothing to say. Also, Bev’s birthday.

Do you ever have those days, weeks, or months where you have nothing to say?

Me neither.

But this week I’ve been quiet.
It’s been a weird week. I’ve had some things come up; some distractions.

Can I say that I miss doing my puzzle?

Lord. I’m hopeless.

Things I also miss:

*Hugging people; mostly my girls. But also my friends.

*My gym, my fitness coach, and my gym people. (I may be the youngest at our gym and it’s literally like Cheers, where everybody knows your name)

{Am I the Norm of our Gym? Maybe}

*Marshalls, Home Goods, TJ Maxx. I know. It’s petty, but I do enjoy my outings.

*Publix. I miss just running in for one or two things. I know, I will NEVER take grocery shopping for granted again. Never.

*Dining out. The Coach and I have had a standing Friday night date night for many years; I miss going out for dinner. But, we’ve been ordering in (or picking up) at least one night a week.

Listen, this is my petty little list and really, I’m NOT complaining. It’s just things that I miss.

Can I count my blessing? Oh HELL yes.

*My people are healthy.
*Our business is still in motion.
*I have money in the bank to pay bills.

We are fortunate.
I wish everyone was as fortunate.


Tomorrow would be my Mom’s 77th birthday. For the past few years, one or two of my favorite people (when available) join me for two of my Mom’s three favorite things:
Mexican food and a margarita.

Her third favorite thing? Latin men.

We, being married women and all we generally skip those.

Plus, she was known to be a bad pecker picker; starting with my Dad and she went downhill from there. I’m not badmouthing her; she knew it too.

So, tomorrow we are going to attempt to have margaritas together via Zoom; it will be my first time.
For the zoom, not the margarita.
Now I’m wondering how I can get some Mexican food too.

{Suz and Bev at her 72nd birthday. Guess what we were eating and drinking?}

My mom LOVED my blog. She would call me and say: YOU are so funny.
OR she’d say: Who were you referring to in that post?
Or she would complain that I didn’t blog enough.

Now that I write all that, she sounded demanding.

For someone who had nothing to say, I found some words to share today.

Wishing you all a good weekend and if you have the ingredients, have a margarita in Beverly’s honor on Saturday. She was the best Mom I ever had and I miss her terribly.

If you are fortunate enough to have one or both parents, call them this weekend, it’s the least you can do.

I’m not even a Jewish mom, but I can make y’all feel guilty, can’t I?


I hope I don’t regret not having a title for this mess.

It’s come to my attention that I have a lot of feelings.

Good ones.
Sad ones.
Really, really bad ones.

Just kidding about the bad ones, but I do love a sing-song rhyme.

Also, spell check always tells me that I don’t’ know how to spell rhyme.

People always say to live your life without regret.
Who are these people and why should we listen to them?

{not my tattoo nor my decolletage}

How does one live without regret? Like, NOT one regret? 
I’m not buying what they’re selling.

My regrets; I have a few.

I regret being an anal-retentive Mother when my girls were little. I know exactly *why I was like that 
and I don’t believe they are scarred, but still, I could have been a ‘lighter’ person.

I regret some of the times I didn’t answer the phone when my Mom called me.

I regret all the times I stressed over buying and wearing a bathing suit. From the time I was 15 until now; I stressed whether I was 95lbs or 140lbs.

I regret not wearing sunscreen on my decolletage during my teen years.

Upcoming evidence of feelings all over the place.

This song was on my mind the other day.
When my Mom was in hospice we played some music for her.
Me: Oh, she loves this song (she really did) so I started playing it. 

After a minute or so, my Aunt Trisha said: Yeah, she likes that song, but she really loves this one.

My Mom was heavily sedated and hadn’t communicated in hours, but she twitched when this song came on. I know she was trying to dance.

When I was a kid and she would dance/drive in the car at hearing a good song…Why did that mortify me? 
Dance/driving is the best.

I don’t regret dropping everything and spending copious amounts of time with my Mom in ATL when she was sick.

I don’t regret a single day of actually being a Mom or a Wife. (I capitalized on those as they are both positions that I take seriously.)

I don’t regret knowing the word decolletage; it’s an interesting word.

I might regret hitting publish on this post.