Monday Memories 6.12.06

Just a little warning for those under the age of 18, or those sensitive to explicit content...stop reading here. With that said.....

Did I ever tell you about the time that Kiefer Sutherland went down on me?
Here's the scoop...there's this dive bar near where I live called the Gypsy Lounge, where local bands play quite often. Really just the most successful local bands; most of them have recording contracts already on smaller labels. There's a guy in one of the bands who is good friends with Kiefer Sutherland, so Kiefer sightings are quite frequent. One night I'm in the bar with several friends and my friend Brian and I decide to go to the bar and get a couple of drinks. There was only one stool available and it was right next to Kiefer and his friends, so of course I took it. Brian was standing up on the other side of me. After a few minutes, everyone in Kiefer's group was looking on the ground, all bent over as though they dropped something. Several minutes passed and they're still crouched down looking, so I asked if they needed me to move because Kiefer was just about under my chair looking for whatever it was he dropped. I had already swung my legs over to the other side of the stool. The floor of the Gypsy is SO nasty, that I couldn't imagine anything worth digging around on the ground to find. After another minute, Kiefer pulled out a lighter to see better and by now is almost underneath my stool! He was also dangerously close to my friend Brian by this time. So again I asked if he would like me to move because I felt like he was probably getting to know me a little better than I expected at that point, and he looked up at me and said no I was fine. So I responded with, "Well, okay. In that case then...while you're down there...." or something equally corny and stupid. And right as Kiefer was looking up at me with a "What the fu**" look, Brian actually winked at him and said, "Yeah. Thanks Kiefer." It was hysterical!! We got a courtesy laugh from Kiefer, but we didn't care. We went around the rest of the night and told that story to anyone who would listen, and it has gone down in history as The Night Kiefer Sutherland Went Down On Me.

So Kiefer, if you're reading this, and I'm sure you are...Thanks for one of the best non-sexual sexual experiences of my life.
Call me.

Monday Memories 6.5.06

This is one of my favorite pictures in the whole world.

It was June of 2001, and I was with a group from my church. I had four friends on my team (I was the only girl), and a drover for our pack mule. We flew into Lima, Peru, took a charter flight to Arequipa, a 16 hour bus ride up and over a narrow portion of the Andes into the Cotahuasi Valley, and trekked for seven days until we came to this remote village at 13,500 feet. At our highest point, we were at 16,000. I can't imagine anywhere on earth being more remote, except maybe somewhere in the Amazon. We had nothing but some rough maps, a GPS, and a satellite phone in case of emergencies. We trekked for eight hours a day, filtered our own water from running streams, and basically flew by the seat of our pants the rest of the way.

We arrived in Arequipa ready to board the bus for the very long and winding trip through the mountains. While we were there, however, Peru was rocked with an 8.1 earthquake and the most severe damage was in the town square in Arequipa where we happened to be sightseeing at the time. Everyone pretty much ran for cover, but by the time it was over, the town square was almost in ruins. The church in the picture below, the Basilica Cathedral, built in the 1500's had lost one of it's towers. I have pictures of the church with both towers, and then some taken literally ten minutes later, with only one.




In Peru, you can buy antibiotics in drug stores without a prescription. So I took what spending money I had, bought up all the antibiotics, pain relievers and bandages we could find and started out. We had heard the villages had been hit very hard, and their houses made of mud and clay had crumbled. After reaching Cotahuasi, we took off on our trek, only now we found ourselves climbing over rubble and fallen rocks, instead of the neatly blazed trails the Cechuan people had created. On our way into one village, we came across the little girls in the picture above. They took us by surprise, as you can tell by what I'm wearing. It would have been culturally insensitive for me to walk into a village dressed like that. With more warning I would have put on a jacket and zipped on the bottom leg portion of my pants.

While we were there, we visited four villages much like this one, the largest of them with 100 people total. Each with beautiful children just like these little girls and people who were filled with love and hope, despite the catastrophe that had just occurred. They were so incredibly hospitable to us and so happy to have us there. They opened their humble homes to us, cooked for us, and sent us home with handmade gifts. The lessons we learned from them in humanity and kindness are deeply ingrained in our hearts. As we were leaving the valley, we were sent off with love and gratitude. We knew without a doubt, however, that although they were grateful for the help we brought during difficult times, we were the ones who were truly blessed by our visit.

Monday Memories 05.29.06

Since it's Memorial Day, I wanted to remember an incredibly special man ~ my father-in-law, Edward Frances (with a last name that is incredibly Irish and the same as mine, which is why I'm not going to name it now). His parents came over to the United States from Ireland and passed through Ellis Island. He was born in 1922, served in WWII and raised 7 children; two step-children and five of his own, one being my ex-husband. He was a kind, gentle and wise man and I loved him tremendously.

While I was married to my ex-husband, his mother hated me with a passion. She actively pursued ways to show me how much she despised me, as she did with each person - man or woman - who married one of her children. I was very young and shocked and confused by her unprovoked hatred. I was raised to respect adults, especially my elders, and was just idealistic enough to think I could turn it around, so for the first few years I never fought back. Through it all, there was Ed. He loved her immensely, but knew she was unfair in her treatment of me. He always let me know that he loved me and that I was a valued member of his family. He made dealing with her bearable. We shared the same twisted sense of humor and he knew it. When something happened at a family gathering that he knew I would find equally ridiculous, he would always catch my eye and give me a look that spoke volumes. It was as though only he and I knew how completely stupid a particular comment was. If someone said something that could have a silly double meaning, we agreed on those too, and with a look could have each other in stitches.

When my ex-husband was born, Ed was in his late 40's. He and my mother-in-law had married later in life, each with two children of their own, and decided to have a child together. What they got was triplets, one of them being my ex-husband. Unfortunately, he had smoked all of his life, and by the time his triplets were in their teens, his health had begun to fail. In the last few months of his life, he lived in an assisted living home after losing most of his lower limbs. His wife no longer felt equipped to care for him and even checked out emotionally. She lived a just few miles away, yet visited less then once a week. It killed me to think of him alone and I tried to visit him at least every other day. I knew my time with him was short. I tried to make his last few days as comfortable as possible, and I would bring him whatever he wanted, trying to repay him for the love and kindness he had always shown me, even when it was against his wife's wishes.

Ed passed away in September of 1995, at 73 years old. He was the proud father of seven children and at that time, grandfather to eleven. My oldest daughter was four years old and my youngest daughter was not yet a year old when he passed away. Sadly she never really knew her grandpa Ed. He was always so proud of being the child of immigrants and being able to fight for his country, and of raising and providing for his family.

If I had five more minutes with him, I would look him in the eye and thank him for being the model of fatherhood, marriage, love and fairness that he was to me and countless others. I would ask him to tell me one more story from his days as a Navy corpsman, and I would tell him I love him and miss him dearly.

Monday Memories 05.01.06

Today my daughter asked me about my first date with her father. Although we're divorced, we're good friends and the memory is a great one. When I first met him, I was with my friend Kris who had a pretty strong crush on him. I even tried to set them up, thinking I was doing her a favor. The first time I laid eyes on him, I thought I would never go out with someone who looked like him. You see, back in the day he was an extremely handsome young man. So much so that in our younger years, even other men would come to me and say, "Wow Steph. Your husband is a good looking man!" I assumed that someone who looked as good as he did would be cocky and shallow. I can see so clearly how he looked back then.
I was supposed to have a date with his twin brother (actually, his triplet brother - they also have a triplet sister). But when his brother came to see me in San Diego (where I was in college at the time), he brought him with him and as they say...the rest is history. His brother didn't care that we hit it off so well, in fact he was engaged to someone else and had plans to cheat on her by coming to see me. Obviously I had no guilt about liking his brother. My friend Kris knew we had a strong connection and encouraged me to go out with him - she was later a bridesmaid in our wedding. :)
I remember him walking into the room on that night, and as soon as we saw each other, we were inseparable. He asked me out for later in the week and he again came to San Diego. I had a convertible and offered to drive. I wanted to show him the best of San Diego and took him to La Jolla with the top down. We went to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch - this was 1989, so that was still a novelty. Since I drove, he had just taken some money out of his wallet and gotten in my car, leaving his wallet in his truck. During lunch I learned that the person I assumed was stuck up was actually so down to earth. He told me about his family with seven kids (!), and his bond with them was touching. He was the exact opposite of what I expected just by looking at him. At the end of lunch, it turned out that he hadn't taken enough money out of his wallet to pay for lunch. He had to admit that he didn't have enough money (and had also left his credit cards in his wallet back at my house) so I left him at the restaurant while I ran around La Jolla looking for an ATM so we could pay for lunch. How embarrassing that must have been for him! But he handled it with class and humor. We then went to another restaurant/bar where we had some margaritas and then I took him to the cliffs in Solana Beach - the best place in San Diego County to watch the sunset. After that we were inseparable. He lived in Orange County, where we both grew up, so he was an hour away, but every night from then on he drove to San Diego after work. We were married a year and a half later.
Even though we're divorced now, for a variety of reasons, we both look back on those days with fondness. We were very young - only 22 - and stupid. We had no idea what it took to have a successful marriage. Neither one of us had seen a good model of marriage growing up. But mostly we look back in fondness because we know we were madly in love. Yes, we know the beauty that came from our marriage - I'm convinced that we never regret that which leads to the birth of our children - but it was more than that. It was young love and idealism at it's finest.
We've grown up so much since then. We've been apart for almost ten years, he's married to someone else (who is exponentially a better fit for him than I ever was), and we still maintain love and respect for each other that allows us nothing but sweet memories.

Monday Memories 3.28.06

When I was 14 and a freshman in high school, I went to the movies one night with my girlfriends. While I was there I met a junior from another high school named Jeff Burgess (yeah, I'm naming names. In case anyone knows him, feel free to kick his ass). It was 'love at first sight!' He was older, sooo good looking, charming, and seemed to like me. You have to understand that I was very much the ugly duckling when I was younger. I was not a pretty girl in high school. I never got asked out on dates or to dances, and I was very insecure and shy. I know, I know...Those of you who know me personally are thinking there's no way I was ever shy. But I was. Painfully shy and insecure.
Anyway, I gave Jeff my phone number and following that night we started talking on the phone every night. I really liked him and he seemed to like me too. It was the end of May and he asked me to his high school's prom. For a little ugly duckling like me, this was a dream come true! I was one of those girls who had every issue of Teen magazine and tried to copy the hairstyles and make-up tips. I so badly wanted to be liked, and now I thought I was, and by a junior!! I was in heaven! Jeff called to say that he talked his mom into getting us a limo and he made reservations at a nice restaurant. I told all of my friends (most of whom had already met him the same night at the movies), and they could not believe my good luck to be asked to the prom by this boy! My mom took me shopping for a dress, shoes, and all the accessories and I could not wait! The night of the prom, it must have taken me five hours to get ready, three of those spent on my hair. And then I waited for Jeff to pick me up.
And waited.
And waited.
I could tell by the look on my mom's face that she had already realized what I was not yet willing to accept. I had been stood up for a prom. He never even called.
I finally gave up, took off my dress and put my robe on, trying to be brave about it and not cry. My sister and I both worked at the nearby movie theater at the time and my sister was working that night. My mom called my sister Jennifer at work without me knowing it and my sister sent one of her friends from work to pick me up and bring me to the movies and hang out with her while she was working. When I got there, she was behind the concession stand selling popcorn and she handed me something over the counter. It was a box from Hubbub (a very cool store in the mall) and inside was a little purple top - just a little present to cheer me up. She was only 15 years old, yet so sweet and sensitive to her little sister's feelings. Love between sisters is stronger than anything else on earth and my sister embodies that.

Good looking junior or not, Jeff Burgess turned out to be a major loser. Something really random must have triggered this memory for me, because I haven't thought of it in at least a decade. But my sister, now that's another story. She took what could have been a humiliating and devastating situation and made me feel loved and secure. She still does to this day.

Monday Memories...3.13.06

When my littlest girl was 3 1/2, she swam with water wings. She's such a stud now that it's hard to imagine how she ever needed assistance, but she was pretty cute in her little Shamu wings. She would even go into the deep end at 3 years old.
If you know her, you know what a thrill seeker she is. I'm in total awe of her, seriously. She is now 11 years old, and a total stud. She can do everything she wants. Everything. And she does it with confidence.
Back to the water wings...One day we were swimming in a community pool. A friend of mine named Robert and I were in the shallow end just sort of cooling off while the girls were swimming around. Julianne (my little one) was in about three feet of water (well above her head), and asked if she could take off the water wings. I said okay, as long as she stayed up against the wall - you know how little kids who can't touch grip the wall as though their lives depend on it? Well, there she was - gripping the wall with no water wings. She had taken them off and thrown them on the concrete on the side of the pool. So as Robert and I stood watching her, all of a sudden she pushed off the wall, aiming for the stairs twenty feet a way. Robert and I lunged at her, I swear it was in slow motion, as we yelled, "Nini!!!!!!!" (Her nickname), the whole time thinking were going to pull a drowning child out of the pool. This little girl who couldn't swim without water wings a day before, all of a sudden broke out in the Little Mermaid like swimming stroke, with her arms by her side, her face under water, and her feet kicking furiously, until she made it to the stairs. When Robert and I realized that she knew what she was doing, we backed off and let her swim. She stood up on the stairs, turned and looked over her shoulder at us with the strongest look of self-satisfaction, mixed with a little bit of awe and a lot of surprise. So cute!! By then the whole crowd around the pool noticed what happened and were cheering her on!
We spent the next hour practicing her new found swimming skills with her - with the pool crowd continuing to cheer her on. We stood 10-15 feet away from the wall while she pushed off of us and mastered her skills. After about an hour, she got tired of swimming and decided to get out. She hiked herself up on the wall and out of the pool, passing the water wings on the concrete next to her. She turned and looked over shoulder, and then my little three-year-old proudly yelled, "FWO DOS WATTA WINGS AWAY!!!!"

Monday Memories 2.13.06

 
 

Saturday was my daughter's Winter Formal. Her first, since she's a freshman. What a beauty, huh? Of course I had my emotional, sentimental moments when I saw how pretty and grown up she is. And I must add...in my objective and unprejudiced opinion, my daughter was by far the most beautiful and graceful girl there. :)
What was cute is that I went by myself to the lake to take pictures although I can think of a few people who wished they could have gone with me. I didn't want to embarrass her by bringing an entourage with cameras. When we got there and met her date, he brought both his parents, his grandfather, his older brother and his brother's girlfriend! His grandfather kept coming up to me and picking up my hand saying, "Oh my goodness...she is beautiful!" He took the words right out of my mouth.
He was such a sweetheart, as was the rest of his family.

It was a girl ask guy dance, so we took care of everything financially...

Dress, shoes, purse, jewelry..............$175.00
Ticket to get into the dance..............$110.00
Limo and dinner for two................... $80.00
Boutonniere for her date...................$11.00
Manicure/Pedicure/Hair/Make-up............$100.00

My baby's memories of her first formal....PRICELESS

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Monday Memories...1.30.06

I think I'm going to get fired from this Monday Memories gig and it's only my second week. Last week I wrote about memories that have yet to happen, and today I'm writing about one that should have happened.

I just finished watching the Screen Actor's Guild Awards, and while there is so much I loved about the night (I'm a sucker for everything about awards shows), my favorite part was at the very end. Two words. Pierce Brosnan.

I love him.

I don't have celebrity crushes. Really. But him, yeah...I think he's perfect. I love him. I think he looks like someone drew him. I think he's perfect (am I being redundant? Because if I'm not, let me mention how much I love him). If I could piece together what my ideal man would look like, he would be Pierce Brosnan. I think he would love me too. I think we would be perfect together. I find it a total travesty that neither of my children was fathered by him. Did anyone else see him tonight - how gorgeous he looked in his tux when he presented the award to Reese Witherspoon? As soon as I heard the announcer say his name, I got up and stood two feet from my television so I could get the best unobstructed close-up view of the man who should have been my husband. When Reese walked to the stage, she got to kiss him! And he sweetly put his hand on her arm, because in his perfection I'm sure he's just really sweet that way. But then when she was all done, she just walked right by him and left the stage. Is she nuts?! She had Pierce Brosnan right there!!

Sadly and sickly, this is where my made up memory comes in. Since people are always looking for memorable moments on awards show, I would have planted the biggest, sloppiest, open-mouthed kiss on him and acted like it was no big deal at all - it's all in the name of art! It would be played year after year on SAG highlight shows, each time with him looking on, regretful that he married that trampy environmentalist with too many names (who by the way, I hear has a horrible facial twitch and poor oral hygiene). Following the show he would probably dial my number several times a day, hanging up after losing his nerve, knowing that he had let his soulmate slip through his fingers. A man in true anguish.

Pierce, if you're reading this (and I'm sure you are)...it's never too late for true love! Sure I might play hard to get for like an hour and a half, because a girl's got to have her pride, but remember..."you're my density!"

Monday Memories...1.23.06

I joined the Monday Memories Club, which was started on a great website, that I would link you to if I could think clearly enough to link right now (I will do that shortly, I promise). Although Monday only has about an hour left, and I am exhausted, I wanted to get this down while I had it in my head. I came across the concept of Monday Memories and fell in love with it. What better way to honor the incredible people in my life, and my experiences. I've been so tired though lately, and hung up on a little silly graphic that I let Monday almost come and go without writing this post (Yes, I'm that anal that a little graphic can hang me up for that long).

Although I'm not writing about the memory that I originally intended, and it's a little early to be adding a twist to this new concept of Monday Memories, it is what is on my mind right now.

Today is my youngest daughter's 11th birthday. As some of you know, I wake my daughters up each year at exactly the time they were born, crawl into bed with them and re-tell the story of the day they were born. I usually end up getting very emotional about it every year! They used to love it, then they made fun of me for it, now they expect it and once again love it. So this morning, my 14 year old and I went into the little one's bedroom, laid down on either side of her and started her special day with stories of how glad we were that she entered the world, and our lives. Friday her dad and I took her snowboarding for her birthday, so today was pretty low-key. She went to school, I picked her up and brought her to my office (which she loves), let her choose the restaurant for dinner, picked up her best friend and then came home to open gifts (I only let my girls have a party every other year and this was an off year). She loved her presents and kissed me goodnight saying what a great day she had.

Even though it was a great day, that is not the focus of this Monday Memory. When my girls went to bed, I took a long bath in my new bathtub, then went downstairs to turn off the lights. I passed my girls rooms where I knew they were sound asleep and missed the days of when I could crawl into bed with them and sleep all night, listening to them breathing. I stopped doing that because I became too obsessed with the perfect night's sleep. I walked down my beautiful hand built wooden stairs, past the little black cat, the incorrigible puppy in her crate, and the brand new little Betta fish named Bono, and went in the kitchen to turn off the lights. While I was walking down the stairs, looking down into my living room and my new house, I flashed back to earlier in the night when we were in that very room with my daughter while she opened her presents. I thought about tonight and I thought about the future. I wondered what kind of memories I will have in this new house, as there will undoubtedly be more than I can imagine. Every Christmas yet to come, every Prom night, every birthday just like today. I wonder how many happy years we'll spend in this house, because although I bought this house intending to stay here forever, one never really knows. I wonder if this will be the house where my daughters' fondest memories will originate. I wonder if my daughters will feel relieved when they walk through the door after a brutal semester at college. I wonder if I've created enough traditions and memories to sustain them when they feel far away from home.

Our memories, for as long as we can remember, have been of just the three of us. Their dad and I have been apart for so long that neither one of them, or even I for that matter, can remember back to when we were together. So it's always been just us, and we've always been thankful for each other. Sometimes I worry about what memories they're missing because of that; if they will remember our family as being "incomplete." I don't think so, though. I think we've done alright for ourselves. And 20 Christmases from now, I think we'll look back, not on what was missing during these years together, but of the incredible love that we have for one another, the gratitude we now feel for finally having our "own space," and the incredible memories of birthdays just like today.