calibamamom

Musical sacraments, and star-gazing

February 10, 2012 by calibamamom 4 Comments

Yesterday I didn’t get to post. Because I spent most of the day, in shock, and the entire evening….in tears. Don’t ask. Can’t tell.

Anyway, my lack of a post yesterday……irked me all day today. You see, this blog, my writing…it’s not really for you. It’s for me. My therapy, for lack of a better term. And holy shitsnacks, did I need some therapy yesterday. Who am I kidding? I need therapy round the clock at this point, or at the very least a Bat Phone that leads directly to God’s desk. Of course, I would likely ask to speak to my mama when God answered, but you get the point.

So, I’m dealing with some impossibly tough circumstances at the moment. But I can’t write about them. Specifically, that is. At least not right now. In time, friends, in time. Cool your jets though….I’m not dying of a terminal illness, nor are any of my family members. At least not that I’m aware of. Something like that would do me in. Literally. But I digress.

What I CAN tell you is every single time I have a “Really? WTF?!!” moment in my life, I listen to Dave Matthews and his band of geniuses playing instruments. I’ve come to accept that Dave is my “wtf moment” savior. Maybe it’s because we share a birthday, despite the fact that he is 5 years older. The music library on my iPod…90% DMB. Seriously. I had the pleasure of seeing them play their very first show back in 1991 in Charlottesville, Virginia, and have been to an obscene number of live shows since. Think triple digits. Anyway, it was shortly after my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer that I began listening to their music, and it just spoke to the fibers of my soul. Every song seemed to be about me, and whatever crisis I happened to be experiencing. They even have a song titled “Dancing Nancies”, which is rather eerie because my name is Nancy and I have a BA degree in dance. If you know DMB, and are thinking “But that song is about…” Yes, I am aware the song is about transvestite hookers in Amsterdam. Let’s move on. Without the slightest hesitation, I can say that Dave, is the other man in my life. And The Man is just fine with that. Through several, crazy, my stars must have been in alignment coincidences (which you will read about another time), I’ve met Dave on a few occasions. Therefore, I can report with confidence that he is a very nice guy. He looks directly into your eyes when he speaks, and while listening to you, making you feel as though nothing else in the world matters to him at that moment except what you have to tell him. Truly a rare, and remarkable personality trait. And he likes to drink Jack Daniels. A good ole boy, if I’ve ever met one, who happens to be a rock star. And in my religious worship of music, he is a sacrament. Plain and simple.

So.

Last night, long after I should have written a post, and way past my bedtime, I was lying outside in my pj’s and bathrobe, on the front lawn, looking at the stars, with headphones shoved into my ears, listening to Dave, and silently sobbing. At 1 am. The Man came out there and asked me what the hell I was doing, as if he didn’t know, and told me to at least go onto the patio so the neighbors wouldn’t think “we were weird”. Too late for that, I’m afraid. Regardless, I went inside and crawled in bed. Then I got up and danced, cried some more, and thought about how this is only the beginning of a very long, personal DMB show for me.

xo,

***If you’d like to read about Beyoncé being a sacrament to someone, click here. That way, you’ll know I’m not completely bat-shit crazy. Although it wouldn’t be the first time, and I doubt it will be the last.

Filed Under: all things DMB, just me, random thoughts Tagged With: all things DMB, just me, random thoughts

Full moon = All bitch.

February 9, 2012 by calibamamom 2 Comments

I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch…Oh the bitch is back.
Stone cold sober as a matter of fact.
I can bitch, I can bitch…`Cause I’m better than you
It’s the way that I move….The things that I do.

~ Elton John

Alright.

After a whole day of snapping at everyone close to me, being the brand ambassador for road rage, wondering why my “only for emergencies” Xanax didn’t seem to be working, and coming to the conclusion that the pharmacist had, in fact, given me fucking placebos…..I finally figured it out. Looked up at the sky on the drive home from a 3 hour stint at my second home (aka the gym where my daughters train) and saw the reason. Color me cranky people, it’s…

A FULL MOON.

Had I known of this impending occurrence, I could have prepared the world by skipping the makeup today and simply writing BITCH on my forehead with a black Sharpie. But I didn’t. I will be more careful and stay abreast of the lunar happenings from now on. Promise. Okay, half-promise. Because I’ll probably forget, considering I suffer from C.R.A.F.T. these days. You figure out the acronym. Remember, I’m cranky tonight, and can’t be expected to do everything for you! Geez….

So, this is an apology of sorts. To The Man, whom I am certain feels like the bat whose head got bitten off by Ozzy on stage all those years ago. Except probably worse, because that poor creature only got its head bitten off once.

Hi dear. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow since you’ve been silent for hours in fear of, well…pissing me off just by breathing. I’ll make it up to you somehow. I love you. Really.

Oh, and to The Girls. Who can’t even read the blog, because I won’t allow them to, even though only one of them could really decipher the words and meanings and such anyway. I screeched like a dying cat at The Oldest Girl today for sharing my blog address with her good friend, so her friend’s mom could read it. Mind you, I’m trying to build a following here, but somehow panicked at the thought of that child’s mother, whom I have not met yet, reading this PUBLIC blog. Good Lord. What kind of crazy witch am I today? Don’t. Answer. That.

I should also add that The Youngest Girl had a full-on, 5 year-old, “ragdoll with rigormortis” meltdown about what to wear to school this morning, which prompted me to tell The Man he needed to dress her before I sent her to school wearing only her monogrammed backpack. I had given her several choices, none of which agreed with her fashion mood apparently. What more could I do? At least I recognized I needed a “time-out”, right?

Honestly, the only one in the family who didn’t catch the wrath was The Middle Girl. Perhaps because she agreed with everything I said, completed every task I requested of her without whining, and did her best to remain relatively quiet and just “blend in”. Obviously, she knew about the full moon, which wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest because she is quite brilliant, that one. Catches on quick. No doubt, this will serve her well life 🙂

So. Here I sit, apologizing to people who are now sleeping, trying to figure out exactly what I can possibly do to make up for the bitch I was today. If you have any suggestions, leave them in the box below, will ya? Wait…I’ve got it! I’m going to get some sleep and pray to God that Mercury doesn’t go into retrograde anytime soon 🙂

Sweet dreams. I mean it.

xo,

Filed Under: family, just me, rants and raves Tagged With: just me, rants and raves

Holey sheets

February 5, 2012 by calibamamom 2 Comments

“You’re too sexy for these sheets.” ~The Man

Last night, after completing this, The Man and I decided to “kick it old school style” on the sofa, and watch recorded episodes of Man vs. Food. The girls had already staked their claim in our bedroom watching The Muppets Movie, so we really didn’t have much of a choice. At some point, our Friday night couch date took a comical turn. Since we were watching MvF, I commented about being hungry and wanting spicy kimchi ramen, which I am certain I am unhealthily addicted to now. The Man runs with it and says, “I think you are spicy, and I’m addicted to you….like Special #2.” I’m thinking “Oh no. He’s sober. And rhyming. Boy am I in for it tonight!” Nonetheless, I laughed until my abs were sore. If you aren’t an avid MvF viewer, I realize this reference is completely lost on you. Not much I can do to help you understand, as it’s from a specific episode. Sorry.

Moving on….to the bedroom.

After all, this post is about holey sheets.

Admittedly, I just giggled when I wrote that. Who am I?? Beavis or Butthead?

Once the girls were zonked, we scooped them up and carried them to their own rooms and prepared to settle in for the night. I’m all snuggled under the blankets, when The Man crawls in and notices something is amiss. He says “There is a hole in the sheet over here.” Of course, I already know there is, in fact, a hole in the sheet because….well…I make the bed everyday. Anyway, I reply, “I know. I think you did it with your feet.” The Man says, “My feet? No. It’s your fault.” With this, I spring bolt upright in bed, look at him and say “But it’s on YOUR side. How could it be my fault?” Without any hesitation, he replies (quite confidently) “Because you are so sexy that I got a boner so big it poked a hole in the sheets. What do you have to say to that? Huh, huh, huh?”

“Thanks dear. This is going on the blog :-)” And I laid back down and rolled over.

After a brief “thinking” pause, he says “Wait. I give you material to write about, and I don’t even get any? How is that fair?”

Wide-eyed, I jumped up and down on the bed, shouting

“Holy sheet! You just called me a WRITER. I LOVE YOU!”

Something tells me I should stop right here.

Have a good one 🙂

Filed Under: funnies Tagged With: The Man

When I slipped my feet into these….

February 4, 2012 by calibamamom 2 Comments

I felt like I should never take them off.

Again today, I got out of bed, and stayed out 🙂 Then, I drove to Ventura Boulevard and was treated to lunch by one of my dear girlfriends who has been relentlessly badgering me to celebrate my entrance into the 4th decade of my life. Of course, I have been avoiding this breaking of bread because for the last few weeks, I kept going back to bed. Little did I know, she was bringing me THESE AMAZING, VINTAGE, PERFECT FOR MY SIZE 6 FEET, BRIGHT RED COWBOY BOOTS!! Now when I say bright red, I actually mean “FM Red”, or so my middle sister calls it. Yes, the FM stands for exactly what you think it does. She prefers to wear FM red in lipstick form. Me…not so much. It’s a power color, and honestly, I’ve never felt that powerful really. Something tells me you already know this, so I’m not derailing my train of thought on that point. Giddy, up….let’s go!

Anyway….want to know the most spectacular part about these boots? They were hers. My girlfriend’s that is. Not my sister’s. So, they have HISTORY y’all. Each and every scuff, scratch and divet represents a memory. I just adore objects with roots and a story to tell. Which is sort of like me now. I am oldish, with roots and lots of stories to tell. Hell, I’m not vintage….I’m practically antique! However, when I slipped my feet into them, I immediately felt like I needed to walk with a swagger, and perhaps begin carrying a gun. I felt strong, and confident. Odd, considering I had on yoga pants and the boots were WAAAYYY too much for them. Whatever. Then, I remembered seeing something on Facebook, or Jen’s List this morning about today being ‘Wear Red for Women Day’ and all of a sudden the unexpected gift became even more magical. I highly suggest finding some FM red boots of your own. You’ll feel like a fire dancer!

After the yummy lunch, and girl-chat, I hugged her tightly, thanked her profusely, and we parted ways. Then I drove much too fast through a myriad of LA freeways, rushing to pick up my mini-me’s from school. Once home, I changed my clothes and made My Firstborn take these pictures. You didn’t think I was keeping those yoga pants on now did you?????