It is not a Christmas Tree ... It is a Tree Of Memories

Christmas has always been my favorite Holiday. But not because of the getting of presents, but the giving of gifts, the sounds, the smells, the sights of the season. This year has been a tough one on us, as it has been on many, but somehow Christmas magic still comes in, on a tree full of memories of Christmas past.

 
My tree is not just a tree with lights and bulbs, but a tree of memories. The hanging of each ornament comes with a story of how that trinket gained a spot on the tree. The decorations are simple, many of them made by my girls years ago. The rest have been made for me or given as gifts, or carry some special meaning to the tree of memories.

Some are simple store bought ones, the girls or the grand-kids painted or made over the years.
We also have a few fishing bobbers left from the time we did the whole tree with them. We had silver and red and white bobbers all over the tree, which proved to be quite nice, especially living on the lake. But being the avid fishers we were, most got used afterward.
                                                                                                                                                                 We have Harley ornaments that we received from people, and bells for the movie It's a Wonderful Life.

Theres the picture Santa my oldest, Stephanie, got while in High School, and the okra Santa the youngest, Sandi, did in High School. Each having their own special spot every year.






But the one that is always asked about by anyone seeing this Hodgepodge of a tree is the simple little piece of tinfoil, all tied up with purple string. Sandi was about five years old, and times were really tough that year. She came up with that special present, her own design of a Christmas present ornament and asked if it could go on the tree.

That IS what Christmas is all about. Not how big the tree is, not how many gifts under it, not how fancy the display is. It is about the love and memories tucked among the branches of the simple little tree.

Part two - The newest addition:

This year has been a roller coaster year for me.  But it has been one filled with special friendships.  And the most important one has been the wonderful experience of working with Damien Cripps.  We have had a tough year together, especially when the hopes of our meeting had been postponed till next year due to visa issues.

Today a special package arrived.  I must say it was something I will treasure forever for not only for what it is, and what it symbolizes, but for the fact one very special friend understands the meaning of my "Memory Tree".  This now has a special place of honor on the tree and always will.

Thank you Nicole - You have been a great friend, and you will never know how much this gift means to me. It not only symbolizes the up and down year of 2010 and  my friendship with Damien ...
....but the special one I have with you as well.

And the Story Continues ...

Now the tree has a new lighthouse ... I love lighthouses, although have never seen one 'live'.  There is something about them that I find comforting.
This little lighthouse has an angel and the words 'guiding light'.  Given to me by (once again) my dear friend Nicole.
 Nicole - you are such angel... and have been a guiding light within my life - often letting me know that I am too close to crashing into rocks.  Shine on :)

Latest Addition............

A Few years ago ....after 20 years together we actually got Married! ... Yeah, have trouble getting my Better Half to remember the date ...so got this 

And the kids had the same idea ;) 

And MORE.........

Latest additions that brought a smile to my face as I was decorating the tree. Two precious ornaments from our sweet Grandson AJ..... one he made and one he picked out and bought at the school Christmas Shop last year in Kindergarten ... forever will be cherished

Never Say Goodbye

Unlikely friends, you and me
I on my mountain you by the sea
Although we are an ocean apart
the winds carry your songs straight to my heart

We may never get to say hello, but we will never say goodbye.

No one knows what are in the plans
So many things are in God's hands
The world keeps spinning,
we're losing, we're winning
The seasons keep changing
things keep rearranging
but friendship can stand the test of time

So carry on my trusted friend
under your big blue sky

We may never get to say hello, but we will never say Goodbye.

It's a Sign I tell ya! Memory Walk for Alzheimers

In every family there is a blend of personalities.  Sometimes it makes an eloquent cocktail other times it is a fruit smoothie.  Yeah, my family is the latter, and the exotic ingredient that gives this fruit smoothie its kick is my sister.

Karen is the one with the thick mane of hair, dazzling smile and bubbling personality.  She is also about the size of a Tic Tac. Flamboyant, she makes a statement simply by walking into a room.

She is the one who can't change the bag in a vacuum cleaner, totally ( and I mean totally) freaks out at the sight of a spider ( with the exception of the one on the back steps that she named Harry or something ... ), thinks the new stove is great, but fails to realize it can do more than cook Frozen pizza.  She is one of those gals that is rarely seen without her 'face on' , even asked me when I was in premature labor if she had time to put on some makeup before taking me to hospital. ( She does admit quickly that was a dumb question). She was also the one who backed the car up on top of a fence the first time she drove to school.("who put that fence there?" )

Think the TV show "The Nanny" and you got my sister.  Karen's catch phrase is " Have You Met Me?"

Karen is also the one who shoulders the most in the family.  She is now living with Dad,  and was the one who was there with Mom through the Alzheimer's.  (Yes, so was my Brother, but men handle things different).  

Mom lost her battle to Alzheimer on Sept 24, 2005.  Karen was there with her, and for the past five years has been struggling to come to terms with the lost, with the disease, and with the fear of one day one of us may develop it.  She is not alone.

Karen called me the other day, all excited.  She was looking for a way to commemorate the Anniversary of Moms passing, but really was at a lost for something unique.  Then she was asked about walking in a walkathon by her co-workers at the assisted living center where she works.

" they asked if I would be interested in a walkathon , I said sure... when?  They said Sept 25.  I asked what for? and they said it was the ALZHEIMER'S MEMORY WALK!!!  The day after the anniversary of Moms death!  It is a sign I tell ya!!" ( that the Irish Mom coming out ... everything is a sign)

But truly this IS a sign.  To be able to walk and raise money and awareness for the very disease that claimed our Mother the day after the 5 year anniversary of her death IS a sign.

To help raise money for this, now til September 15th I will set aside $1 or 10% which ever is higher from EVERY sale at Renagade's for this Memory Walk.

Won't you stop by and check out the variety of items and help by buying one or two things?  This just maybe the thing to help not only my sister come to terms with the lost, but you can help find a cure.  Millions of children of Alzhiemers patients live in fear that one day, we shall develop this disease that robs the mind, leaving behind the shell of a person.  A fear of everytime you forget something you wonder, "is it starting?"  Trust me, even for those of us whom may never develop the disease, the fear of it is crippling.

I am proud of my Baby Sister, and wish I could walk with her.  But she knows I will be there in spirit, as will our Mom.

We miss you Mom .... 111

www.bonanzle.com/renagade 




More on my raising and losing mom : http://renagadelife.blogspot.com/2010/02/half-irish-half-italian-all-love.html

Caution! Tuna Helper can kill

OK .. Steve had a plate. A Texas Ware Plate in a bright Solid Yellow. He always ate off of for over 20 years .. Heck, they had a longer relationship than we do. No one was to eat off of his yellow plate, even witnessed a tug of war between him and his mother over it one day.


He moved in with the plate. It held up through steak, pork chops, Crab Legs, birthday cake, spaghetti even his crazy 'gourmet' sandwich of Bologna, cheese, mayo, mustard, peanut butter and avocado with garlic power. ( Yes, I am not kidding ... he actually eats this .. oh yeah, it must be on Rye toast, preferably seeded rye.)

But times are tough and one must try to make the shrinking dollar stretch. So when I saw a box of Tuna Helper on sale, I thought hey, why not! It will be filling and a cheap meal. Obviously the plate thought the same way Steve did about the tuna Helper.

I fixed it the other night for supper. Grabbed the precious plastic plate, piled it on and brought it to Steve, who grumbled you have got to be kidding, Tuna Helper? He no sooner took the plate and BAM! That beloved plate revolted over tuna helper. With a loud pop like a gunshot, ol’ yeller split right down the middle.

Steve yelled “See?? TOLD you the stuff is toxic!”

Now the hunt begins for a replacement plate for ol’ Yeller. He had a long and productive life, deeply loved and sorely missed . Steve said food just doesn’t taste the same now. He is however starting to develop a relationship with his special Bonehead plate and matching Bonehead glass,  which can be kinda creepy day in and day out. So I must act fast, because the dear boy really becomes attached to things.

Bikers, elavators,...and the Pizza guy

Bikers are a strange breed . Look rough, have bad ass attitude , but most have a heart of gold. But they do enjoy the ‘bad boy’ image and work hard at keeping it up.


Several years ago, We went to a H.O.G. ( Harley Owners Group) rally in Montgomery, AL. Lots of fun, and today I got reminded of what happened on the elevator.

Now picture this….. Upscale, 5 star hotel packed with bikers.. All in their leathers, revving their bikes at all hours in the enclosed parking garage, staring down the locals, …just having fun. The food at this place was too…well… just didn’t go well with beer, so ordering pizza was something many of them did…. Delivered of course.

I, along with my hubby Steve and some friends where heading up to our room on the elevator. The door opened up and in came the pizza delivery guy, with a stack of pizzas. Mmmm .. The aroma was wonderful. The door close and the elevator starts. Steve looks at the pizza guy, and turns to his buddy, Jim and says “Lets mug the pizza boy.” The poor guy knees start knocking together.

Then the elevator stops and in walks the maid, with towels. The door closes. Elevator starts and the maid looks at the pizza, turns to Steve and Jim and says: “Lets mug the pizza boy”

By this time the poor kid could barely hold the boxes for shaking.

Then Steve looks at Jim and says … ‘Man, I hope they are not going to Val’s room… you remember what he did to the last pizza guy.”

Well the door opens and the kid took off like a rocket. Of course, we had to get off at this floor also …which made the poor pizza guy even more nervous. We watched in amazement when he stopped at the room to deliver the pizza…. Then hollered ..’Yep that’s Val’s room!’ ( which it was)

Val is a very intimidating looking dude ….so when he opened the door, we honestly thought the poor kid was going to faint.

We just stood at the elevator and held the door open for him as he bolted back into it. …

With a smile…told him “ See ya in about an hour … we are going to order pizza…”

Rumors have it…he still shakes when he sees a biker.
 
Pictured above ...Jim and Steve ... Steve is the one with the grey mane

Lessons my Irish Mother taught me.

In my house we over-the-top celebrated some of the holidays, namely, Easter, Christmas, Memorial Day, April Fools Day, and St Patrick’s Day. St Patricks Day was the one day Mom dropped the 'wife to an Italian man' and fully embraced her Irish heratage.


Growing up with an Irish mother, you learn many things, most importantly you absolutely, positively, MUST wear Green on St Patrick’s Day. Even my Italian Dad wore an olive green work uniform that day to keep peace in the house…. And to keep the little Irish lass from finding some bright Kelly green shirt for him.

For some reason, Kelly green was the choice of shade on St Patty’s Day. For those not familiar with this, it is a bright true green…very bright. Going to school we strangely resembled a group of ’wee people’ all decked out in this screaming ‘I am Irish ’ Green.

Mom would get up early that day, like a kid at Christmas. Humming bars of “When Irish Eyes are smiling” and singing “Oh, Danny Boy, she would set out the box of Lucky Charms cereal, start the corned beef and cabbage, and make sure we all had on as much green as we could wear. And as we got older, she made sure we didn’t have on HER lucky shirt that she planned on wearing to bingo that night. ( That happened once …. My ears are still ringing from the blood curdling screech of “Blessed Mary Mother of God …Hell NO! … Not MY shirt!”)

If by chance you failed to remember what day it was, and didn’t have green on … you would get pinched. Literally. She would grab your arm and pinch the heck out of you.

The pinching is an American tradition, No one really knows how it got started, but like so many other traditions among the Irish, if you didn’t do it the world would end and seven years of bad luck would follow you till the end of days … or something like that.

Irish are very superstitious . Very, Very superstitious. Some may even call them a little paranoid. Some of the ones I have had installed into my psyche still cause my heart to race with fear of the doom that looms.

Sure, we all have heard that walking under a ladder, and breaking a mirror are sure fire ways to bring about 7 years of bad luck, but how about these?:

If you put on your clothes inside out, you must wear it like that.
(for those who remember when it was ‘cool’ to wear your sweatshirt inside out…now you know it must have been an Irishman that started that)

Itching palm means money is coming.
Itching or burning ear, someone is talking about you.
Itching nose, ‘have a fight or kiss a fool’
( Mom would piss us off by kissing one of us)

A bird flying into the house… a death in the family

Death and bad news always comes in threes
( It may take a while .. but there will be three)

Once you leave the house, it was bad luck to go back in before trip was done.
If you must, then you must sit down and take feet off the floor before leaving again.

A fork falls on the floor, company is coming. A knife falls, it will be a man, a spoon means a lady.
(Man is this one ever true!)

Never give an empty wallet or purse.

Fall on a grave, and you will be buried soon.

Brides are to wear: 'something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue and a silver sixpence in your shoe'.

you smell roses when none are around someone is going to die

If you spill salt, throw a pinch of the spilt salt over your shoulder
( go ahead .. try ignoring this and see what happens)

And never … EVER put shoes on the table.
( guarenteed the end of the world)

So in honor of my Mother, I shall do the ‘Wearing of the green” ,have corned beef and cabbage, sing a few lines of Danny Boy … and absolutely make sure no shoes are on any table. And with a little luck, maybe my palm will itch.

To all, I wish you a Blessed St Patty’s Day, and Erin Go Braugh.

Irish Blessing
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
 
Till we meet again Mom..... 111

Half Irish - Half Italian - All love

 I grew up in a mixed household. Yes, I am a half breed. Half Irish - half Italian. Proud to say second generation in this country.

But back when my parents got married, crossing the nationality lines was one of the things you where not suppose to do. And in the Boston area, mixing Irish into Italian bloodlines was…. Well…. a mortal sin that could cause the sky to fall and set off the apocalypse. But Dad was a bit of a hoodlum and fell for an Irish Miss from the ’wrong side of town’.

Now, normally that back then could set off an ex-communication from the family. But if they did that, they would have had to cut off some of his nine sisters as well. They looked at my Mom and figured they would grant permission because:

1. at least she talked ‘normal’, not like the guy my Aunt married. ( damn Irish Brogue !)
2. She wasn’t … (gasp!)… POLISH like that big eared guy one of the other sisters married.
3. She wasn’t already related . ( yes one married a cousin….had to get permission from the Pope for that one - BUT he WAS Italian so… hey)
4. She WAS Catholic. That is a plus!
5. Everyone knew their youngest son was bullheaded, stubborn, and a “hoodlum” anyway.
6.  She was what is called ‘Black Irish’ Dark hair, dark eyes, and could pass off as Italian. Heck, she looked more Italian than their green eyed son.
7. Most Important....Irish are known breeders. OK, the bloodline may be ‘tainted’ but out of 11 kids my grandparents only had 2 sons, the oldest son was not breeding many, so we got to keep the name going somehow.

Now if they can just get her to stay quiet about the Irish part, things would be good.

Well Mom did good on never speaking with a brogue, went to church, even dyed her hair darker to increase the appearance of looking Italian. And she cooked spaghetti once a week and could make the meanest antipasto around. But when it came to the breeding end….. Well she told us kids that never happened.

They had three children … myself the oldest, then five years later my sister, then five years after that my brother. Two girls and a boy and it ’only’ took them 11 years to have the first one and 21years to complete the litter. We were all ‘gifts from God’ , not sex, immaculate conception was the way we came to be, just ask her and she would tell you so. Wish she did…. Often…once we reached the teen years. That was her infamous ‘Birds and the Bees’ talk. “If God wants you to have kids, he will give you kids, and you don’t have to have sex….we didn’t”

Now if she told us that a young kids, we may have bought it. But as teens the theory just didn’t wash. As she came to realize we have figured out what actually ‘caused’ kids, the story shifted to “ We only had sex three times, hence the three of you.”

Now considering Mom was 31 when she had me and 41 when she finally produced the “prince” son, that put her pushing 50 when the ‘birds and the bees’ talks started. And it also meant at my age she had a 10 year old to deal with.

I look back now, and think no wonder when she started forgetting things, acting a little odd we didn’t catch it. Having to deal with three kids, the pressure to produce the crowned prince to carry on the family name, and having us all so late in life would cause any woman who wanted to have kids early a little nutty. And no, the three of us where not angels by any means. But what we missed was the onset of Alzheimer’s.

I was finally told about the confirmation of the disease , for some reason, the rest of the family didn’t want to ‘worry’ me, and living so far away, they could hide it for a while.

I was able to visit and say my ‘Goodbyes’ before she totally forgot me. Well she knew me, was just a little shocked to see me around again.

The good thing is she never lost her memory of my Dad, and loved having him beside her. They shared a special kind of love that knew no boundaries. Certainly not one of nationalities. And my grandparents saw it.

My mother passed away in 2005 a few days after their 57th Anniversary. She is thought of daily, missed always, but she is still with us. All of us have had strange things happen that we swear is “Mom” …Heck, she said she would haunt us and we believe her … why wouldn't we? We are immaculate conception children.

I miss you Mom…. 111

Party On .. Just don't forget your ....

Boobs. Ok .. Now someone please tell me just how does a lady forget her boobs?


The year - 2009. The season - Christmas - you know, the one to be Jolly? Well, Christmas at my house always involves approximately three parties. Why the three separate events is another story, but lets just say some people you just don’t want to mix.

Anyway, this past Christmas at the family gathering, my sister-in-law shows up like she always does, dressed to the nines. She recently lost a lot of weight, ( again) and looked wonderful. But in losing weight, as every woman who has lost a few pounds knows, the boobs go first. It is like “What? You don’t think we want the extra ‘weight’ there? Take it away from the flabby tummy, the big butt, the thunder thighs, but for goodness sake, leave the boobs!” But no, God has a sense of humor, so yep, there goes the boobs.

Anyway, since she lost the weight, and the boobs, she decided to get a set to wear. Gel filled falsies she could tuck inside the bra to let everyone know she is woman. And she is proud of them too….at least twice reaching in and pulling one out to show people. Hey, what kind of family would we be if we didn’t want to see her falsies?

After the family fun and games, Sister in law and Brother in law were doomed to spend the night at our place, since driving home after a bottle of Brandy was just not happening. We pointed happy couple ( and yes they where happy) in the direction of our spare room and off the they tottled.

The next morning after several cups of coffee and breakfast, we pointed the now not so happy but more like hung-over couple towards the front door, asking the infamous question, “Do you have EVERTHING?” ‘Yeah, Yeah… we got everything” …

No they did not. They lie.

A week later, I went into the spare room and noticed laying on the bookshelf was a bra. Hmmm…. I checked …yep, got mine on. In picking up the brassiere, I discovered under it two boobs….staring at me.

Calmly I walked out to the living room and asked Steve, “ do you want to call your sister or should I? I just found her boobs, she left them here.”

Steve looked ….blinked…then asked, “How in the hell does a woman forget her boobs?”

“ Honey, this is your sister we are talking about “

“OK…point made…. Your turn to call… I called on the underwear deal a couple of years ago….….
Just be sure to tell her I have been using them for target practice “

We are still amazed at the fact she never even missed them…and the fact it took her another week to come claim them...... Maybe boobs are just not THAT important after all…..

Party On ... just dont forget what you came with - part one

There is nothing I enjoy more than entertaining my friends. I am often called upon to host the get - to-gethers and my Mom always called my “the Hostess with the Mostess” Plenty of food, and of course plenty of ‘beverages’. Crank up the karaoke system and we are good to go….especially after round seven …or was it eight?


Now everyone has had those great parties where you spend days returning left behind objects to the guests whom had SUCH a great time, they simply forgot they brought things with them. You know, things like jackets, shoes, handbags, cellphones, cooler, spouses, kids, underwear, boobs.

Yes, all have been left behind at my place.

Now some things, like purses, cellphones, and coolers them quickly retrieve. ( especially if coolers still have some beer in it) Other things, especially the spouses and kids, we have to really make them take them back… even going are far as doing a drive by drop off…. You know … slow the car down just enough to toss them out then peel rubber down the street. But those are items people call and ask if we have seen them. But the odder items, underwear and Boobs, well, its like they totally forgot they had them with them.

Both underwear and boobs where unexpected ‘gifts’ at Christmas time.

The Underwear first. Ladies, and some of you guys, know all about thongs. They even have a song out about them, the Thong Song. Well personally I cant see why anyone wants to deliberately wear something that crawls up the crack, but to each her own. Anyway, after about round nine, or ten, it seems that you butt goes numb. And you forget you have something wedged between the cheeks. And in the hurry of flushing out a few drinks in the bathroom to make room for more, you can fail to remember you even have them on, hence wetting them. So, what do you do? You cant keep them on…so you remove them, wash them out, then hang them in the shower, thinking, I will let them dry then put them back on.

Of course after a few more, you forget all about the flimsy piece of fabric hanging behind the shower curtain drying . And of course, you go home without them.

Well the next day, my husband found them. Swinging them around , Steve came out asking me “yours?” Once informed as to who’s they were, and considering his friend, the husband, left early the night before forgetting his wife at our place, ( lucky the just lived next door… we were spared a drive by drop off ), he of course could not resist in calling his friend up and informing him, “hey, your ol’ lady left her underwear at my place…”

After a pause, our neighbor replied… Really? … well damn! Let me check something… Damn, She made it home …Hey, You didn’t happen to find my beer coozie did you?? I would hate to lose it”

Ahhh ……Male priorities ….

Next time … the boobs….