Oh, lucky day!!

Just before I picked it :-)

Just before I picked it

Throughout the course of my life, I have had a unique gift for finding 4-leafed clovers. As far-fetched as it sounds—they seem to literally illuminate when I walk by them. Seriously. I don’t even really have to look for them, because they catch my eye, and at the ripe old age of 41, I  have 100’s of them. And those are just the ones that managed to survive childhood, my teenage years, college, a cross-country move and more than a few moves since living in Los Angeles. So I though I would begin this post by sharing a picture of one I found just a few months ago. Happy St. Patrick’s Day, and may the Luck O’ the Irish be with y’all!!!

But that’s NOT what this post is about…. at all.

This post is dedicated to my Butter Bean, who, weighing in at 7 pounds and 11 ounces, entered this world with a bang on the biggest drinking day of the year–after an induction AND 24 hours of labor!  Named after a saint, born at a ‘saintly’ hospital, in a city by the beach (also named after a saint) on Saint Patrick’s Day —she was bound to be an angel, right??? Nine years ago today, God saw fit to trust me with this force of nature and my life has just kept getting better and better because she’s in it.  Although she arrived into the world a few days early, and gave us a lil’ scare, she has made up for it ever since by growing into a dynamic, soulful little sprite!!! Everywhere she goes, she brightens up the space around her. She’s incredibly intelligent, and very observant, slipping into a room without making a sound, but leaving an imprint that simply cannot be forgotten. I am a better person because she is my daughter, and I thank God every day, for blessing me with her. My guess is that all those four leafed clovers I’ve found over the course of my 41 years paid off, because I feel VERY LUCKY to have her!

Here are just a few glimpses of her radiance over the years…

5 days old

5 days old

age 2.5

age 2.5

butterflybutterbean

a beautiful butterfly at 5

almost 4

almost 4

 

learning to fish at 7

 

 

 

 

 

 

becoming a model at 8.5

becoming a model at 8.5

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BUTTER BEAN!!!

Mommy loves you to the moon and back 🙂

 

 

Follow on Bloglovin

Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, and Twitter

If I made you laugh, please click the banner below to vote for me on topmommyblogs.com!

There’s no need to be shy – you can vote for me once a day!

THANKS SO MUCH…Y’ALL ROCK!

Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory

64 years ago today**

 

Mama & Daddy...December 9, 1978

Betty & Buster…December 9, 1978

…the good-looking, silver-haired couple in the photograph above went to the preacher’s house at 8am and got hitched. Then, after making sure she would be excused from school that day, drove to Nashville for their weekend honeymoon. He was 19, she was 16, and they are my parents.

As the story goes, Daddy saw Mama crossing the street uptown, some 8 months earlier, turned to his friend and said…“You see her? I’m gonna marry that girl.” Standing at about 5’5″, sporting body measurements rumored to have been 36-24-36, along with blue eyes and blonde hair, she was the new girl in town. Although he hadn’t met her yet, it didn’t take long. He actually asked her out on the spot, for later that night, and she accepted. The only catch was, she was to be his buddy’s companion…on a double date, and he didn’t tell her that until after she agreed. Yes, you read that right. He tricked her! Turns out, Daddy already had a date lined up for the evening, but didn’t want Mama out of his sight, so he set her up, and I’m sure threatened the poor schmuck who was to be her date if he so much as THOUGHT about putting the moves on her). Buster Romine was a smoothe operator, yes he was! Anyway, after that night, he marked his territory by peeing in her front yard or something (not really, but it sounds like something he might do, right?) and diligently courted her. Picked her up and drove her to school in the mornings and back home in the afternoons, in addition to spending the between hours with her as well. Being in a small Southern town back in 1949, my Papa thought folks might start to talk, tarnishing Mama’s reputation, so he told Daddy they better go on and get married. So they did.

And the rest is history.

Romine History. 

You see, they went on to build a life together and stage a marvelous, somewhat locally famous–or infamous, depending on whom you ask–giant family circus. Not Duggar-sized huge, mind you, but one shy of Jon & Kate Plus 8. You can even read about some of the family shenanigans here, on my sister’s blog. Daddy was a plumber-electrician with a genius level IQ who complimented Mama’s homemaker/gifted seamstress roles very well. Out of that early morning matrimonial union, sprung….3 sons and 4 daughters. All the sons have good cooking and sewing skills, while the girls know how to fix a toilet and wire an outlet; the products of practical, common-sense raising. As a band of siblings, we would kick some serious ass on “Survivor: Brothers and Sisters”…lol. Among us, a Navy Seal who served our country in Vietnam, a well-known calligrapher/artist (who also has a nursing degree), another registered nurse, a kick-ass event planner & caterer, a retired prison guard (and damned good plumber-electrician), an EMS dispatcher/ writer/ blogger/ baker/ forensic photographer  (what can I say? she wears a lot of hats) and me–lucky number 7. You can dig through the archives to find out what I do, besides write. Go on, it’ll be fun!

To date, they have…

22 grandchildren

25 great-grandchildren already…..with 4 more on the way 🙂

The love they shared was deep and lasting. Passionate and messy….flawed yet flawless…wildly playful but seriously tamed…focused and distracted…whole yet fractured. In other words…real.

By example, my daddy set the bar high for all the men who showed serious intent while crossing paths with his daughters. He worshipped my mama, and no doubt would have sipped her bath water as if it were the finest champagne of the rarest vintage. And likewise, Mama sent her boys into the world as Southern gentlemen, raised to appreciate, admire, provide for and protect their wives. I’d say we are a damn lucky brood, we Romines, wouldn’t you?

Buster and Betty’s legacy is far-reaching, and sure to continue thriving well-beyond my destined time on Mother Earth. I hold such fond memories of Daddy singing “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” to Mama as they danced around the kitchen, or on the back porch on a summer evening. Oh, what a glorious voice he had! Mama’s eyes lit up like Roman candles whenever she heard it. Fitting, as the eyes are the windows to the soul, and he certainly spoke to hers. True soul mates. They embodied the meaning of love and respect for each other, stuck to their vows and REALLY took to heart the phrase:

for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health…

until death do us part

They died just as in love, as they lived. Daddy first on February 20th, 1994, followed by Mama on September 6, 1995. On this Valentine’s Day, I wish to dedicate this post to their memory as shining examples of true sweethearts. I love and miss them every single day!

**Okay…to be fair, it was actually 64 years ago on Monday, February 4th. But due to the fact that it’s about the sweet love affair between my parents, I wanted to feature it on Valentine’s Day. So… I waited 10 days to publish it instead of doing it on their anniversary. I know, I suck… lol.  It’s the thought that counts though, right?  

 

Follow on Bloglovin

Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, and Twitter

If I made you laugh, please click the banner below to vote for me on topmommyblogs.com!

There’s no need to be shy – you can vote for me once a day!

THANKS SO MUCH…Y’ALL ROCK!

Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory

A Post-holiday vacation….in all it’s GLORY


As soon as the topic for this week’s Theme Thursday was decided upon and announced, as “My Biggest Vacation Disaster” I immediately knew the story I wanted to share with y’all. It’s an adventure straight out of National Lampoon’s Vacation franchise. That is, if one of their movies was set on a Carnival Cruise ship.

I only wish it had been a trip I TOOK. 

No, I didn’t cheat, and fabricate a story about a disastrous vacation with my family. I didn’t have to. My niece, Ryan Anderson,** and her husband actually had one worthy of an award, and she agreed to let me share it. I mean, why wouldn’t she? After it happened, she sent the following letter to American Express, and the Director of Public Relations called her on the phone, laughing hysterically, saying that everyone in the office now had a copy on their desk and nobody could get any work done because they were all giggling breathlessly. At the end of the phone call, they were discussing the possibility of making it into a commercial. Seriously.  Intrigued? Read on….

Dear American Express, 

Sitting around the house late one night after Christmas, my husband Hank and I, childless and full of adventure, poured some cocktails and spontaneously decided to take a Carnival Cruise over New Years. He spent the next hour or so online looking for an available cabin, and I truly believe we booked the last one….in the world. We rented a car that Friday morning, and headed down to Cape Canaveral, Florida, where we stayed the night at the Radisson Hotel. We boarded the cruise ship Glory the following Saturday morning. Our itinerary was 2 days at sea, a day in Cozumel (boring), a day in Belize City (not what I had expected), a day in Costa Maya (LOVED IT), then on to Nassau, Bahamas after a couple of days at sea.  We arrived at the port in Nassau at about 10:00 a.m. The night before, Hank read the daily schedule for the next day, and saw that we were due to leave Nassau at 16:00 hours, giving us plenty of time to enjoy the day before we got back on the ship. So, excited about Nassau, we disembarked in our bathing suits (mine was a skimpy little two piece thing), grabbed a taxi, and headed over to the Atlantis Resort where we purchased a day pass and spent the day relaxing on the beach. It was absolutely beautiful!!! The water was so clear, and the waves were perfect!!! After we got tired of the beach, we headed back to the main part of the resort, toured the stunning aquariums, then walked outside to shop some more and check out all the beautiful yachts docked at the piers. It was truly an awesome day. Around 3 p.m., we decided to head back to the ship so we could leisurely check back in before everyone else, pack, and get ready to enjoy the last night of our vacation. On the way back, we took a wonderful water ferry taxi, then walked through the local craft markets at the dock where I purchased a very cool pair of leather handmade flip-flops. Still can’t wait to wear them!!!

Tired, sandy and a little burnt, we left the craft market and walked towards the Glory. All of the big ships were there as well, so I asked Hank if he would take my picture with all the cruise ships behind me, before we boarded. He said yes, of course, so I immediately tried to pump up my wet hair and make myself look cute for the picture. I was standing there smiling with my head and hip slightly cocked to one side, like the ultimate dork tourist in my skimpy bikini, posing for my picture…Hank raised the camera to his face…I give him a big smile…and then, I watched all the color slowly drain out of his face. I was still smiling (my cheeks were beginning to quiver) as he slowly lowered the camera back down. With jaws dropped, he pointed to our ship behind me and in a weak voice Hank said…”Baby! The boat is moving! Our ship is leaving the port!”

Irritated at his lame attempt at humor I rolled my eyes, exercised my cheeks for another smile and reposed for the picture because I didn’t believe him….for those of you who know us really well, you know that Hank messes with me all the time. He is the ultimate smart ass.

I decided to give him what he wanted….you know, haha, joke’s on me, and turned around. My jaw dropped too….especially when I looked up to the top of the ship and saw everyone on the deck yelling and waving good-bye to Nassau.

With arms flailing we start running towards the ship like idiots, to no avail. It wasn’t stopping…I whipped out the camera and videotaped our ship sailing off into the sunset while we ran at break neck speed to another Carnival ship in port for help. They basically, in a short direct way let us know that we were S.O.L. Yes, my friends, we “missed the boat”. We were stranded in the Bahamas in wet bathing suits watching our ship sail off without us.

Ok, so, we are standing there speechless and helpless on the pier of a foreign country. Our wallets are on board, cell phone, keys, clothes…EVERYTHING, except thank God, our passports and our American Express card. Yep, that’s it…that’s all we had besides our camera. After making a second attempt to try to recompose ourselves in front of all the tourists who had now caught onto what had just happened to us, we ran back to the security station and contacted the ministry of tourism, with the hope of maybe getting ferried out the Glory. No such luck…the ship could not be stopped.

Ok, so, let’s back up to the day before (well, really the night before….in the casino on the ship…after cocktails…), Hank saw on the daily schedule that we were scheduled to leave Nassau the next day at 16:00 hours, which, of course, is 4pm….apparently, the “six” in “sixteen” stuck in his head, so all day long we thought the ship was leaving at 6:00. Yes, I just threw my husband under the bus.

We left the port authorities and grabbed a taxi after being assured that we could fly back to Cape Canaveral within the next hour, then get back on the ship the next morning to retrieve our belongings. Oh, if it had only been that easy!

We finally arrived at the Nassau Airport, and booked the last flight (7:30pm) to Orlando through BAHAMA AIR…ok, who has even heard of this airline? My thoughts exactly! We purchased the tickets, and proceeded through the airport to American customs. Of course, everyone in front of us have luggage, bags, purses, cute little souvenirs from their vacation in Nassau….Us? Nothing. We stepped up to our customs booth, and the officer slowly looked us over, cleared his throat and finally asks, “Uhmm, where are your bags? And how long have you been in the country?”
Hank and I looked at each other, looked back at him and said, “Everything we own is on the Carnival Glory, and we have been here for 6 hours.” He laughed out loud at us…I mean, who wouldn’t? Here we are getting ready to board a flight in semi-wet bathing suits, our legs and feet still have sand from the beach all over them, we have no luggage, and at this point we are beginning to smell.

Then, if that’s not enough, they walk us out onto the tarmac up to a little prop plane! At this point, I was scared to death and freezing my butt off. The flight didn’t even have beverages. I told the attendant that I was thirsty and she went to the bathroom and handed me a cup of tap water. Hank and I spent the entire flight huddled up together to fight off hypothermia. At every bump and drop in the air we professed our love for each other, wondering if it was our last moment together on Earth.

Thank God, we made it back to the States alive. We left the airport after I hurriedly purchased a sweat shirt and hailed a taxi back to Cape Canaveral to the Radisson hotel, the same hotel we stayed at the night before we departed. The taxi ride cost $100….we didn’t care, we just needed sleep, food, and warmth. Oh, and by the way, let me give you a visual of what I looked like. By this time, my inner thighs were so chaffed from the salt water and running around Nassau in a wet bathing suit, that I thought they were going to bleed, so I am gingerly walking around like I rode a bull for 8 hours, with my legs spread apart so my thighs don’t rub together. It wasn’t pretty and it hurt like hell. Also, to add to the visual, I have really curly frizzy hair that must be maintained with products and a hairdryer to look presentable. Mix that hair with sand, salt water, and give it a windblown effect…and you can imagine what I looked like. I was a dead ringer for the Bride of Frankenstein. My lips were also burnt and slightly peeled back, drawn taut from dried salt that I got tired of licking at some point on the plane.

We finally got to the hotel. Ahhhh, sweet peace. The first thing I did was run a hot bath while Hank went to the front lobby to get glasses and any free toiletries the hotel could offer. In the meantime, while soaking my thighs in hot water, I picked up the phone and tried to dial 411 to get my mother’s new phone number because she had just moved. I am no good with numbers, and I don’t have to be since all the numbers are programmed into my cell phone. HA! Where is the cell phone? Exactly…so, I dial 9 to get an outside line, then 411 for information….Can you imagine what happened next?

“911, what is your emergency?” I was horrified and apologized for inconveniencing them, that I just dialed the wrong number (apparently my finger didn’t push the 4 down all the way). I hang up, and completely exhausted, just give up and sink down into the tub. Hank comes back and I told him about the phone call and asked him if he would get Mom’s number for me. He did. 5 minutes later, the Brevard County police show up banging on the hotel door with flashlights. Hank goes to the door, opens it to find 2 officers on either side of the door with their hands on their guns. They weren’t playing around either. He assures them it was a mistake, but they insist on seeing me to make sure that I am not a bloodied and bruised up wife. So, there I am in the bath tub, trying to keep my boobs under the water line with one hand and the other hand struggling to cover up my hoo-hoo with any soap suds floating around in the water while they looked me over. My God….did it end there?

No.

We finished off the night with some much-needed cocktails, and, naked from lack of clean dry clothing, ate hot wings delivered by a local restaurant who took American Express. Outside, our rental car sat gleaming in the moonlight, locked, in the weekly paid for parking lot with things we could have used, LIKE CLOTHES….but, oh yeah, the keys were on the  ship.

We woke up hours later, took a taxi to the port, and what do you know? Security would not allow us back on the ship to get our things. We had to sit on a metal rod bench (that must have been constructed by the same companies who make the furnishings for death row cells) still in our bathing suits, with minimal clothing, from 7:30am to 10:30am until the ship’s purser finally brought our things to us, which had been METICULOUSLY packed and inventoried on sheets of paper. On the papers each item was listed as “found” and then “placed” wherever, in whatever bag they had chosen. I mean, seriously…these people were thorough!  For example, I had a partly used roll of stamps in my purse, and whoever the unfortunate soul was who had the task of packing our things, actually had to count out each stamp and inventory how many= 92…seriously, you should see the inventory papers. EVERY single item that was in our room was listed, which we had to go over one by one with the purser so he could mark it off the list. With my heart pounding and my face full of shame, I silently poured over the contents until I finally found what I was looking for. There it was, in all its glory, my hot pink dildo. I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life. With impressive professionalism, he quickly checked it off after I nodded my head and moved on to the next item, which was not as bad but I am sure caught them by surprise…the two boxes of “decorative teeth” with fake diamonds embedded in them. Yes, the grills…the ones I had laughed so hard about that Christmas as I stood in line at the mall for an hour waiting to purchase them for our stockings. We actually wore them one night to the disco on the ship, and no doubt laughed by ourselves at how funny we were as we tried to dance to rap music.

So, we finally got our belongings, took a taxi back to the Radisson so we could load up our rental car and get the hell out of Brevard County, and I will be DAMNED….at some point while we were on the cruise, a drunken guest of the hotel had vomited all over the passenger door handle and door. It was pink and chunky and absolutely just not fair! The hot Florida sun had hardened it, and I couldn’t open the car door without tissues…it was beyond disgusting.

So, there you have it. The story is priceless, and I can’t believe all of it happened in less than 24 hours.  I simply had to share it, because if we hadn’t had our American Express card with us, I can’t fathom how horrible this experience could have been. Thank you American Express, I’m so glad we didn’t leave home without you!!!!!

….and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Sincerely,

Hank and Ryan Anderson

**Not only is Ryan my niece, she is also the talented author behind the novels in The Detective Hank Jordan Series, and you can order her books here.

Follow on Bloglovin

Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, and Twitter

If I made you laugh, please click the banner below to vote for me on topmommyblogs.com!

There’s no need to be shy – you can vote for me once a day!

THANKS SO MUCH…Y’ALL ROCK!

Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory


I need a nurse…STAT!

Looks like it might hurt, huh?

Living out here in the land of ‘pretty much anything goes because it’s Hollywood’, I witness all sorts of things. It’s only on rare occasions when I’m an insider, instead of a spectator. Well, lucky you…because this past weekend, I was all up in the insanity, and it made for a very…um…colorful story, to say the least.

First you should know it involved the part-time writing gig I have (yes..the one I got because of this one) which I normally do from home, in my pajamas, while answering online reservation requests for a very upscale club in Hollywood. Rarely do I have to go in. To be honest, I have never actually been asked to come in, but being the Type A, overachiever I am, I believe it’s important to pop in from time to time and do a bit of ‘Vip customer public relations’ (i.e. meeting the people face to face that I book bottle service for, and normally only deal with via email, to make sure they are getting drunk having a good time). And because our huge Halloween parties were happening this weekend, I believed it was crucial that I pop in and say “Hi”, or at the very least laugh at people’s costumes as well as the debauchery sure to happen at a kick-ass Hollywood Halloween Extravaganza.  The only catch was, I had to wear a costume in keeping with the theme, which revolved around an insane asylum. Fitting, right? Because we all know there are a bunch of crazies in Hollyweird. Anyway, the costume requirement boiled down to….‘Naughty Nurse’. Yeah, those risqué costumes that every male patient on the face of the planet wishes his girlfriend, wife, nurse would come through the door wearing. Yes, I have pictures. You will never see them. Get over it 🙂

So….Friday night was pretty benign. Nothing too exciting happened. Started off the evening downstairs in the office processing reservation requests on the computer (yes, I know. I could have done that from home). After I was done, I went upstairs, and just stood at the front door of the club looking like a 40 something, Nurse Ratchet in a costume that belonged on Nurse Anita Lay, surrounded by all the gorgeous 20-somethings who also work there, and SHOULD wear those kinds of costumes 24/7. It was definitely motivation for me to get my ass to a gym….STAT. Mostly, I greeted people as they came in, and laughed hysterically at their costumes. All in all, an easy fun time.

BUT BOY OH EFFING BOY…..Saturday made up for it, by leaps and bounds. It was a freaking doozy!!! Not sure if it was because my costume was smaller, making me look like a trampy ballerina nurse (I had on a tutu), or if the crowd was just completely CRAZY BALLS, but this is what happened:

The Man was with me, which turned out to be a blessing. Otherwise, I would have been much more frazzled than I was after the shit show I got caught up in.

Now, let me set the scene here…..when you walk into the club, there is a huge outdoor courtyard, with 2 long reflecting pools. One has a fireplace in the middle of it, and the other has a GIANT, vine-covered swing erected above it, with a round ottoman anchored in the pool in front and back of the swing. They hired an actress on Saturday,  to dress up like a creepy looking little girl, and swing on the swing. Well, she decided she needed a break, and left the swing unattended. I was out front, greeting folks again, and The Man texted me and said “I NEED HELP AT THE SWING. PLEASE COME IN HERE.”  So off I go. I rounded the corner only to see a gaggle of drunk, Harajuku girls dressed in nothing but lingerie (since when is this a costume?) trying to climb onto the swing, in the absence of the swinger who had vanished. The Man, dressed like he just walked off the set of ‘Men In Black’ was explaining to them that “no he wasn’t an employee, but he knew they weren’t allowed on it”, in his best, unofficial security guard voice. Now, I knew if these pop-tarts got hurt on the swing it would be a liability, and having the best interest of the club at heart..guess what I did? I got up there to keep them off it. BIG MISTAKE. That just prompted one of the most scantily clad one of the lot to climb onto the ottoman in front of me, and writhe around like a skanky stripper, facing me and opening her legs spread eagle, giving me a very vivid crotch shot, every time I swung forward. OH JOY! I was trapped on the swing for FORTY FIVE MINUTES, and adding insult to injury, all her flockies whipped out their smart phones and started taking photos, and no doubt, video….which has probably already made it on to YouTube. Yippee effing skippy!

Anyway, if the girl whose job it was to swing, hadn’t shown up when she did, to take over again….I had made up my mind that I was going to put my legs straight out and knock Hello Kitty off the ottoman and into the reflecting pool with a swift, go-go booted heel to the forehead. Even though, she kept saying ‘you so hot’, non-stop. No compliment is worth that kind of torture. Seriously.

The Man and I ended up leaving right after this happened, because despite my stone-cold sober state, once I got off the swing….I was ready to vomit. Good times, people.  Good times. But I am clearly too old for this shit.

And now for the photos. What? You thought I wasn’t going to post any didn’t you?

This was Friday night’s uniform. Of course, this is NOT ME. Mine looked just like this one though…minus the hot girl in it. Oh, and I wore a bra.

Image compliments of SpicyLingerieStore.com

Now, this was the costume that apparently caused all the havoc on Saturday. Again, NOT ME in this photo. Plus, I wore a red tutu, instead of this skirt, and paired it with red fish nets and white go-go boots. But you get the idea, right?

Image compliments of SpicyLingerieStore.com

 

Follow on Bloglovin

Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, and Twitter

If I made you laugh, please click the banner below to vote for me on topmommyblogs.com!

There’s no need to be shy – you can vote for me once a day!

THANKS SO MUCH…Y’ALL ROCK!

Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory

%d bloggers like this: