honest.

I know sometimes you guys must shake your heads and think "she makes that sh!t up".

I was getting a cleaning today. I'm lying there getting scraped, looking at the ceiling... and I see a freaking STINK BUG walking around. Linda and I had a good giggle about it, and a few minutes went by.

I watched the bug strolling all around. Above me. As I lay there with my MOUTH OPEN.

Now, you might think I'm about to say 'the bug fell in my mouth'.

No, no.... better than that.

I watched as something dropped OUT OF HIS BUTT, and in slow motion... came right towards my head. Linda saw my eyes rip open, stopped what she was doing and at that moment the offending piece of poop fell on her leg, just mere inches from my head.

I sh!t you not.

I'm... REFORMED?

I had to share a cute story - this happened last night at an annual Christmas Party that we attend.

This is a large party - probably over 50 people - and it's hosted by close friends at their gorgeous home. We know about a quarter of the people outside our little crew of 4 to 5 couples.

So we're sitting in the living room, and there are a few people in the room that we don't know personally. One of those people, a man about my age, is drinking a large can of some type of specialty soda.

My friend Stan, (Mary Kay's hubby) leans over to me and softly asks...

"Is he one of your kind?"

"My KIND?"

"Yeah - you know... REFORMED."

"I'm REFORMED?"

"Reformed. Or whatever you call it."

"RECOVERING??"

"That's it."

"I don't know, why do you ask? Do you think we all know each other?"

"Well, he's been knocking back those tall weird sodas all night. I figure he's got SOME kind of issues."

"Well, when you're right, you're right, but no, I don't know him."

Can't blame it on autocorrect...

So, I've talked about these patients before - the couple that talks and talks and talks and never leaves? Well, they were in this afternoon. The Mr. was in a treatment room, the Mrs. was out in the reception area.

Part One:

bsgirl bumps the back of my chair.

"Mrs K is playing with herself."

me: WTH?

I look and sure enough, there she is with her pants pulled out, her hand WAY down her pants... I stared for a moment not believing it, but then realized she was just tucking in her shirt. A lot. There was a LOT of tucking going on.

Bsgirl and I giggled a bit.

Part Two:

30 minutes later we hear from the reception room:

"aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh....ooooohhhhhhhhhhh"

And I hear bsgirl chortling. (SUCH a good word)

The chortle quickly becomes a snort and more chortles... and she tells me "DON'T turn around."

Which makes me immediately turn around... and I see her typing an IM to me. So I wait...

I wish I could do a photo upload... but I erased it too quickly... this was what it went like...

BSGIRL: Was that a delayed organism?

ME: Do you mean Orgasm??????????

BSGIRL: OMG

And that was the end of us for the rest of today. We had to leave the room... tears coming down... dissolving in giggles...

It took them almost 30 minutes to check out - it was at least 10 just to put coats on - (this is not because they are infirm in any way - they won't stop TALKING) and just a moment ago the phone rang... it was the Mrs.

She forgot her coat.

The Farting Monkeys.

Ahhhh... finally, a few minutes to sit and write the Farting Monkey story. I'm supposed to be creating, but I'm waiting for a whole lotta spackle to dry, and I'm trying not to touch it. SO I'll type instead.

The story really starts with Chip... if you don't know who he is - read this.

The County College Of Morris used to hold a huge garage sale in one of its parking lots. Chip and Judy used to take a space and sell off their stuff every year. We would go to the sale, and hang with them and walk around, and have fun... and find treasures. As Bob and I walked around, we found... The Farting Monkeys. We knew the moment we saw them that they would be perfect for Chip. We delighted in giving each other very ODD gifts.

We gave the man a quarter, and hightailed it back to Chip & Judy's spot.

"Look what we bought you!!!"

"What the F*CK are they???"

"Farting monkeys!!!!"

"Oh COOL."

He pressed the button and farts abounded. He chortled and snickered and giggled.

Judy was HORRIFIED.

"You're not bringing them into the house."

"Oh yes I am, try and stop me."

The look Judy gave us would have stopped a clock... had there been a clock handy.

Rarely a day went by without hearing the Farting Monkeys on our answering machine. Chip would call while we were at work, set them off and all you could hear was him laughing in the background.

Then you'd hear Judy say "Turn those F*CKING THINGS OFF".

And then the world changed, and the Farting Monkeys were silenced... until...

the first County College garage sale after his death... and Judy, knowing Bob's addiction to collecting coolers, said "Here Bobby - I found this cooler and I want you to have it..."

I saw a LOOK in her eyes... and it was like slow motion - I turned to grab the cooler, all the while saying "Noooooooooooooooooooo....." but it was too late.

Bob accepted the cooler, opened it... and guess what was inside?

"They're YOURS now...." Judy grinned evilly.

So we ran home and called her answering machine. And left her a Farting Monkey message....

I love these damn Monkeys.

Say again?

Or... my adventures in lip waxing.

Yeah - I'll come right out and admit it - I get my upper lip waxed. And a little on my chin too. Honestly - there's not too many women in their 50's that DON'T have a little 'stache action going on.

Luckily enough, my friend and neighbor Hoopy is a hairdresser. She's been doing my hair for umpteen thousand years, and also waxes me whenever I'm feeling furry.

She says she'll do my legs if I want her to, but she draws the line at a Brazilian. (I think she's a party pooper.)

The best part about colder weather is that hoopy's fingers tend to get very cold, and after she rips half my face off she quickly presses her fingers against my skin. This feels amazingly wonderful.

In the summertime it's nowhere NEAR as wonderful. Warm fingers pressed up against ouchy skin just doesn't cut it.

Well, today was cool... and hoopy was excited to show me that her fingers were cold. I did a little banana dance in my chair.

And the waxing commences... and my upper lip becomes nice and smooth. She presses her cold finger against my lip and says...

Ready? Wait for it...

"I'm saving my coldest finger for down there."

I RIPPED my eyes open to see where she was pointing...

It was my chin.

I thought perhaps that she was FINALLY going to do that Brazilian...

Beach Crop 2011

Another incredible long weekend with my girls... there is truly nothing like a girlfriend. Especially ones that you love and trust with all your heart.

I shared at a meeting the other night that this crop was the best EVAH, because it was my first sober/AA crop. Two years ago I was newly sober, but not in the program. I was insane. I was craving... I was miserable... One year ago we didn't have the crop... so this year was a new beginning for me.

A few years back, toward the end of the weekend, we lined up all the empty booze bottles along the dune. It was a long line... because those crops were excuses to drink freely, heavily, and at all times of day or night. I was never sloshed - but I was always buzzed.

This year a different type of bottle was lined up...



I remember every moment of this crop - all the talking, the laughter, the tears... the therapy sessions... the serene moments early in the morning when I sat with my coffee as the sun rose... and I discussed the day to come with my Higher Power...

Here are some photos from the weekend - enjoy... and thanks for reading!

sometimes i even surprise myself...

with the things that happen to me.

I was walking at the park, as is my norm, minding my own business. It's a Sunday morning, it's warm... the sun has peeked out and I'm enjoying communing with nature. Nature being my iPod, my lime green tank top, about 4,392 people (which included 4,134 cheerleaders of all different ages) a few dogs and some mosquitoes.

Football is in full swing, and I round the curve toward one of the fields. It's at this point that I have to dodge all 4,134 cheerleaders, who have decided to congregate ON the walking path instead of beside it. My apologies to the '75 RHS cheerleaders that I possibly may be friends with now (thank you fb), but why do cheerleaders think they are something special? I actually felt like I was that shy, gawky 16 year old again... but that's another post for another day. I digress.

Just as I get next to the playing field, just as I am MID stride, one foot raised in the air, one arm swinging one way, one the other way... JUST at that moment, the announcer screams on the PA system (well, ok, maybe he didn't scream, but it was LOUD) that little so and so made a touchdown... and it caught me so off guard that I hopped on one foot for a yard or two. Arms akimbo, leg in the air... I looked just like... The Karate Kid. And all 4,134 cheerleaders snickered. I know they did.