Category Archives: Humor

In Limbo

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The days between Christmas and the new year are suspended in amber; a week of feeling in limbo — at least for me.

The frenzy leading up to Christmas that started at Halloween and progressed to Thanksgiving and finally to December 25 is a mess of cooking and baking and cleaning — and now it’s over, along with the twenty-four hour Christmas music on the radio.

It’s so so quiet outside, like a day during the pandemic.

It’s a great time to shop the after holiday sales, but I have enough wrapping paper and Christmas cards and decorations to last until the next century, so I’m not all that excited about the 75% off prices…although I DO love a bargain.

But — we’re not quite done because the end of the year is only a few days away and that occasion is supposed to be memorialized by some sort of celebration, whether you choose to go to a ball or a party or stay home by the fire with a glass of champagne and try to stay awake until midnight.

And then it’s over — but not until the idiots shoot guns in the air and set off more fireworks that scare all the animals.

I’m not sure I’d call this feeling a full fledged depression, but there’s a term that describes it pretty well… Post Holiday Blues. It sounds like it should be the title of a song, right? PHB refers to the letdown we might feel after all the excitement and anticipation leading up to the holidays.

I hope Santa brought you everything you asked for and enjoy this week in limbo, waiting for 2025.

The Veil is Thinning 🎃

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🎃 Happy Halloween! 🎃

Samhain/Halloween is the time when the veil between the spirit world and the earthly realm is at its thinnest and is the best time to communicate with the dead. You can literally feel the change in energy in the air. If you feel a presence behind you, it’s not your imagination…

No ballerina princess costume for me this year; this time I’m a witch. I’ll take a ride on my broom, conjure up a spell or two…and do all the witchy things, of course! 🧹

Vintage art curated from Pinterest

I’m a Baseball Newbie Just In Time For The World Series

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From Ninjago to Pokemon to Minecraft and now it’s baseball that makes Angel Boy 2.0’s world go around.

He loves his home team, the Mariners, but is rooting for the Dodgers to win the World Series, mainly because of Shohei Othani. I learned (from AB) that the reason Ohtani is so special is because of his ability as a hitter AND as a pitcher, which is rare. Ohtani’s 2021–2024 seasons are considered among the greatest in baseball history, with some comparisons to the one and only Babe Ruth.

Oh, and T LOVES Babe Ruth, too.

“Grandma, did you know Babe Ruth?”

“Uh NO, I did not. That was a bit before my time, my darling.” Sheesh, how old does he think I am? His dad always seems to overhear these random conversations that occur between me and the kids, as evidenced by his snarky snickers in the other room.

Hand to heart, that child has now collected well over a thousand baseball cards. His sister’s job and my job as his assistants are to help him organize those cards. I love the educational aspect for both of the children, matching the teams and then placing everything in alphabetical order. He reads the stats out loud to us, which I find enchanting and endearing, and reminiscent of his dad at that age.

His dad collected sports cards too (also thousands of them) and I know I saved all of his well- cared-for binders, but I can’t remember where they are!

T is so excited about baseball that he created his very first PowerPoint presentation to share what he’s learned about the sport.

Because of his new-found interest, we watched a couple post season games. Where my son and I were rooting for the Padres, our home team, AB was all for the Dodgers. Of course, as usual, the Padres disappointed their fans. They’ve never won a World Series, so their losing record is intact.

In addition to collecting cards and wearing his favorite player’s jersey, AB started playing baseball. We were all outside in the garden taking turns pitching and hitting and I discovered a never before known talent of mine for hitting the ball nearly EVERY SINGLE TIME.

“Wait, Grandma, did you used to play baseball in school? Why are you so good at it?”

“No way, T. Actually, in school, they put me so far out in the outfield that there was never a chance to catch the ball, and when I was the hitter, I struck out 100% of the time. I don’t know why I’m playing so good now!”

“MOM DAD, watch Grandma!”

The look on my son’s face was pretty funny, I have to admit.

T was holding the bat awkwardly and weirdly, so I attempted to offer a pointer. Initially he refused my advice (just like his dad) and kept striking out. I suggested that he at least TRY my way one time to see if it helped. Lo and behold, it DID, and he got a home run. He experimented with his strange way again and struck out. After that, he had to admit that not only can his grandma consistently hit the ball, but I’m a good coach, too.

If only my high school PE teacher could see me now, lolz.

Many years ago, I was standing behind a table volunteering at a nonprofit event and a sort of nondescript man walked by and said “Hi”. I said “Hi” back to him as he continued down the sidewalk. Other volunteers crowded around me, “Do you know who that was?” I did not, and when they said it was Trevor Hoffman of the San Diego Padres, I said, “Who’s that?” I thought it was cool, but I didn’t fangirl him like they obviously were doing.

Now it’s World Series time and I’m a total Dodgers fan. Does anyone know why there needs to be so many games to determine the winner? It’s a bit excessive, in my opinion.

GO DODGERS!

Angel Numbers (514) and Life Path Numbers (11)

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It’s so weird. I’ve been seeing this sequence of numbers (514) for a couple of years.

I see it all the time; on clocks, my phone, the oven, a timer, auto license plates — any and everywhere one might observe a series of numbers.

Since I was already aware of the significance of 11:11 and 1:11, I figured it might be symbolic to see recurring numbers — and especially 514, which is personally significant since it’s my birthdate.

I’ve always loved my birthday because every few years it falls on Mother’s Day, so I get a double celebration. A friend with psychic abilities told me that 514 could be a sign that my mom is around, offering love, support, and guidance. Whether it’s true or not (the jury’s still out on all that stuff), I appreciate the thought.

My life path number is 11 which means I’m supposed to be nurturing, highly sensitive, intuitive, a natural leader, an old soul, and a healer. That’s all good and fairly accurate, I guess.

What’s your life path number? Add up all the numbers in your birthdate including the year, and check it out. Is it accurate for you?

Meet Mr. Toad

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Besides my sweet lizard, there’s another eligible bachelor vying for my attention…

A few days ago as I was tidying up the family room, I noticed some ODD movement on a big corn plant leaf (Dracaena fragrans Massangeana) near the patio doors. There was no breeze so it was a bit unsettling to watch the leaf move up and down. I hastily picked up the plant and placed it outside on the deck.

Out jumped this little guy! I don’t know how long he had been living there, well-camouflaged, but I thought the outdoors would be a more suitable environment.

Mr. Toad is a very handsome young man, but not all that photogenic. He’s a bit camera shy and kept running behind a pot while I was trying to snap a pic.

I guess he finds enough to eat because he and my lizard love seem to peacefully co-exist.

In most ancient civilizations, toads were synonymous with transformation and renewal. These mysterious creatures are capable of shedding their skins and reincarnating in new ones, signifying rebirth and regeneration. In Chinese folklore, they were believed to be spirits of blessing and prosperity for everyone they encountered. Native American traditions also hold spiritual convictions about toads, which they view as messengers of the soul world.

Attracting toads to our garden naturally controls pests and enhances biodiversity, creating a healthier and more balanced ecosystem.

Frogs, lizards, toads; there’s lots of reptile love around here!

To Be So Loved

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Meet my boo, my bae, my sweetie:

Every morning he waits for me on the deck by the patio doors. Sometimes I almost trip over him because he’s always underfoot, trailing me from the deck to the garden and back again.

When I first noticed this behavior, I thought he had somehow become stranded on the deck and was asking for help, so I put him him in a box and released him on the grass, but he came right back.

He turns his head back and forth as if he’s listening to me, “Good morning, little guy!” “Is it hot enough for you?” “Here’s a bowl of fresh water in case you’re thirsty.”

At night, he looks through the screen door, but that’s where I draw the line. He’s not coming in, not even if he shows off with a few sets of those lizard-y pushups. #boundaries

One occurrence would be nothing to think about, but this happens daily, so I guess I’m in a relationship now.

I brought him a green hornworm from my tomato plant and he gobbled it up. Since my love language involves feeding and caregiving, that made me happy (and a little grossed out).

Most of my research says that lizards symbolize resurrection and rebirth. In Egyptian hieroglyphics, the symbol of the lizard was representative of plentiful abundance. A lizard in one’s house is often seen to represent an old friend or acquaintance.

Gotta go, my boo just came by for breakfast. 🐛

Surfing and Cartwheeling

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Do you remember your firsts?

I do. I remember my first ballet class, my first pair of pointe shoes, my first ski trip along with my best ride down Stump Alley at Mammoth, and even my first bra, lolz

Not having grown up on the west coast, I didn’t have a connection to the ocean until high school.

I recall my first time on a surfboard…it did NOT go well, and I almost broke my nose. This was not the sport for me. Decades later, I gave it another try. Once again, it didn’t go well. I ended up rolling and rolling under some giant NOT BEGINNER waves, and the next day I was covered in the ugliest bruises. That was IT for me.

Angel Girl takes gymnastics and was obsessed with cartwheels. Tenacious girl that she is, she tried and practiced and kept at it until the mechanics of a cartwheel finally clicked and she perfected it. “Watch me, Grandma!” “See, I can do it now!”

What an amazing sense of accomplishment and mastery of a difficult skill. “Great job, girl!”

Even though we live so close to the ocean, the original Angel Boy didn’t really like to surf, mainly because without his glasses, he can’t see a thing, and it was a scary endeavor unless he had a buddy with him. He’d boogie board a lot, but never really got into surfing until he started wearing contacts.

Now he has a quiver of boards here and at his house, too.

To encourage AB 2.0, he’s been taken along for (gentle) rides on a surfboard since he was about a year old.

This past weekend, it finally clicked for him, too. He stood up and surfed his first legit wave!

This is a bad photo because I took it from the video, but I can feel T’s sense of pride. It didn’t matter that it was a small wave: HE DID IT, and OMG, he’s a carbon copy of his dad.

Predictably, you couldn’t get him out of the water after that. He’s completely hooked, and now Dad has a lifelong surfing buddy. As an aside, is there anything cuter than a little grom in a wetsuit?

I hope they never forget these significant firsts, and since we have video of all of it, I can imagine they’ll show their own children these amazing accomplishments.

Grandma pride RULES!

Your Little Boy

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“Do you know what YOUR LITTLE BOY did?”

“Grandma, I need to tell you about YOUR LITTLE BOY!”

It never fails to make me laugh when I hear both Angels refer to their dad that way.

It started a long time ago when I explained to them that not only was I their grandma, but that their dad was my little boy and he’ll ALWAYS be my little boy.

Ever since, and especially when they have some juicy gossip OR a complaint, he’s referred to as “your little boy”.

When he rode his skateboard sans helmet which is absolutely DUMB, Angel Boy 2.0 would call me and tattle on him. When he fell off his surfboard, I was told about it. When he ran through a red light, yup, I had a phone call.

“Grandma, you will not BELIEVE what your little boy did!”

They extract a great deal of enjoyment when I scold their dad about his small crimes and misdemeanors; I’m a constant source of entertainment: “DAD, GRANDMA WANTS TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT YOUR BEHAVIOR!”

Mom isn’t exempt either, but MY little boy bears the brunt of the scandalous chat.

This time was a bit different. AB is now in third grade and his sister will start kindergarten at the same school. Usually Dad walked him as it’s only a couple blocks away and Mom stayed with the baby, now not a baby. (This is a cool deja vu moment for both Dad and me, because HIS elementary school was also in walking distance, and it was a great time to chat and walk there every day.)

I got the phone call….“Do you know what your little boy is going to do when school starts?“

I literally had no idea.

“Because I like to get to school early – Grandma, you know I don’t like to be late — and you know how Dad and I race there every day and sometimes I win –and C can’t EVER wake up, YOUR LITTLE BOY is going to run me to school first, come home, and then bring C. Isn’t that funny?”

“Well, T, why don’t you just wait until your sister is ready and Dad will only have to make one trip?”

“OMG Grandma, you KNOW that won’t work! We have to leave at exactly the right time.”

The backstory is that Angel Boy 2.0 has always been an early riser like Dad (and me), but his sister could sleep all night and most of the day. Sometimes, we still check on her to make sure she’s breathing, but boyohboy can that girl SLEEP.

Her pre-school started at 9:15 and it was often a struggle to get her there on time. Kindergarten starts at 7:55 a.m. so she’s going to have to go to bed extra early to train for a new sleep schedule. There will no longer be an option to let her skip a day or two or come in a couple hours late.

The best part of this story is how much Angel Boy loves school. He can’t wait to get there and always wants to stay after to play with friends.

His dad loved to learn, too, and still does.

It’s markedly different than my experience, that’s for sure. I didn’t like school and couldn’t wait to get home. The only happy part of it for me was the night before when I chose whatever pretty dress I would wear the next day. There were always matching socks and ribbons for my hair.

Being a fashionista is a life long pursuit and I can’t wait to see what the kids wear for their first day.

MY LITTLE BOY had his own sense of style…

The original Angel Boy with Stella Rondo

Hearts and Sons

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My son is the classic dictionary definition of an absent minded professor (which he is). His beautiful brain has multiple trains of thought all speeding along at the same time, so sometimes, day-to-day mundane tasks fall by the wayside.

It was early morning and he had returned from a dawn patrol surf sesh. We were having a lively “discussion” about where to put his surfboard…”Mom, Mom, I’m going to leave it right here, don’t worry. I’m going to surf later, too.”

Whenever he says “don’t worry”, there’s an eighty to one hundred percent chance that it’s something I SHOULD worry about. I learned that after forty-three years of being his mom.

I told him I’d prefer it if he took the extra few minutes to put it away in the garage where it belongs.

This discussion took place as we’re standing in the driveway. It could have been today or a couple decades ago; some things never change!

We were at an impasse. Hands on my hips, I stubbornly stuck to my position that the surfboard needed to go back where it belongs or I would end up trying to lift up a longboard that’s twice my size. Something would break; either the board or me.

Finally, I said, “Look how much time you’re wasting. If you had simply put it up instead of trying to convince me to allow you to leave the surfboard in the way, you’d already be in the house eating your breakfast burrito!”

Well, that’s the kind of logic that works with him. He finally put his board away. Like I told him his entire life, he should take his arguing and debating skills and become a lawyer like his grandfather.

As we wrapped up a twenty minute negotiation, I looked down and found this perfectly formed heart leaf. I took a picture, picked it up, brought it in the house, and I’m looking for a suitable frame while my (annoying) child inhales his breakfast.

It’s all about love. It always has been, and always will be. That child IS my heart, whether he’s being annoying or not.

Searching For An Open Portal

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The end of July has brought a triad of unfavorable events, one right after the other — snap, snap, snap…

I feel like it might be about time to run to the forest, search for a circle of rocks, tune into a different frequency, and step into a completely different dimension.

If only I knew the magic words to reveal the gateway to somewhere else. I don’t feel exactly enchanted right now…

The day after I brought home those adorable Lagerfeld heels, I broke a toe on my laundry room doors so I won’t be wearing them for a while.

Somehow, I entered into another inadvertent situation, and by that I mean, my innate carelessness subjected me to a dumb unthinking bizarre accident. I somehow injured the ulnar nerve on my left hand, which can be way more painful than you think! Because it really hurts, I had to get a brace to protect and immobilize my hand as I kept aggravating the Cubital Tunnel Syndrome/ulnar entrapment.

Do you see it? That freaks me out JUST A LITTLE because “ulnar” is “lunar” and I’m desperately and compulsively trying to discern if that’s a MESSAGE from the universe — or not –and what it might mean on a cosmic level.

And finally, since I have a history of skin cancer and have undergone Moh’s surgery, I had my six month check with the dermatologist and she discovered THREE areas on my face and nose that were problematic. I have to use this gross cancer cream, (which is really chemo) for two weeks. It’s brutal, as it causes my skin to sorta look like I have leprosy — not a pretty sight, that’s for sure, and I can’t go out in the sun at all. DAMN those summers spent tanning on the beach because now I’m paying the price.

I’m not really complaining though, because things could be worse. I mean, they ALWAYS can be worse, right? At least I’m balanced–right toe broken, left hand injured, the exact same spot I broke a bone in 2013 when I ran up the hill to look for a coyote; slipped and fell in the ditch. BALANCED.

I hopehopehope August brings happier news and maybe I’ll finally find the key to unlock that door to another dimension, maybe to a day before I broke my toe or the day before I aggravated the ulnar nerve or before…never mind.

On the other hand, I’d be overjoyed if I could stuff my little toes into those shoes…