tender moments.

Last weekend Dan (my ex — who had all the kids that weekend) came over and asked us if we wanted to to go to San Fran. with him and seeing that we were doing that ‘humming and hawing’ thing we do so well everytime someone comes over and we can’t figure out what to do to entertain them, we decided to follow him.  Old & Broken Fonz in tow.

Okay, i’m coming clean here. The medication SUCKS. I don’t want to do anything anymore. I don’t even have the desire to go out and take pictures, BUT the house is staying clean because something in the pill makes me cringe at the sight of a pile of papers.
I handed Kathy the camera and let her take pictures.   She got a lot of great ones, but then she started to complain that it was too heavy and gave it back to me.  I seriously took maybe 20 pictures all weekend.
I have this thing, I think I can fix people.  I think I JUST MIGHT have all the answers.  I want to make everything better for everyone else.
I am the human crash test dummy. I have been there, done that, got the t-shirt.  I figure since I have already hit the airbag and flown through the windshield that there is NO reason why you should have to. Just listen to me and I will fix you. I will take your broken hand I will fix it with my own.
Yes, I might be THAT vain.

My sister caught this moment on camera.  Me telling my mother who has beaten 5 children into great adults, killed two ex husbands and probably ran over at least a dozen pedestrians to give me her gentle hand so I can fix it.  I put her cold hand in my own and I rubbed it softly.  “Better.”  “No.” I would rub some more and keep asking. She finally said, “Yes.” and I think it was so I would let her go whimper under the bench in pain.

As we were downloading the pictures and I was ‘awwwing’ over the shot Kathy had gotten, I noticed the other people in the picture.
HELLO, is she wearing GREEN TIGHTS and PUMPS?

Now don’t judge me.  I’m the person that would be ambushed in the mall for a ‘What the hell were you thinking when you dressed yourself this morning?’ show.  I am the reason the word “Fugly” exisists.  Someone walked into my closet and said, “WHOA, where did you get all this Fu*** Ugly Sh**?”
I am the reason those reality shows do so well, because I can’t dress myself, but HELLO?? GREEN TIGHTS AND PUMPS?

My broken mom left me a pair of pants she doesn’t like because they have no pockets and I think a shirt that my sister picked out for her.
When my friend Nancy saw me she summed it up pretty well, ‘it’s as if your mother and sister had a child and this is the result.’

I am my mother and sister’s daughter.