Wordless Wednesdays: 1989

Deana2 Comments

It was 80’s week on Facebook last week and we were asked to post pictures of ourselves from that hilarious decade. Do any of you remember the Aqua-Net fog in the girls locker room? I still have hair big enough to have its own zip code. My scanner isn’t working, but I do have a picture of my sweetie and I at a wedding in Chicago, 1989.

We met in October of 1988 — he worked in Customer Service at Sprint-United and I worked in IT. He spilled coke on his keyboard and I replaced it with an apparently defective refurbished keyboard. He swears I did that on purpose. Poor man asked me out several times and one day I finally told him that “I don’t normally date men I work with.”

His response?  “That’s okay because I’m not normal.”

We went on our first date on December 3, 2008 — He took me to a really fun pizza place, off  Touhy and Dempster in Chicago and then to a comedy club. We’ve been together ever since and he is still my favorite man on the planet.

Of Mice and Meaning: Part Two

Deana4 Comments

I’m in a mood. It’s not good or bad, it just is… ever been there? You’re female, I’m guessing you’ve been there what three times already today? laugh. Me too.

Our neighbors are fighting. I can hear him destroying her gardens with a weed eater and she’s yelling at him to go inside and cool off.  I scrub floors when I need to cool off — men build or deconstruct. That or they go find a man cave and veg.  He’s cooling off just fine, she just wants him to cool off — on his turf, not hers. They are newlyweds and the house they moved into was her house. The gardens he’s destroying have been the envy of the neighborhood for years. This might not end well. I predict tears soon.

Mine is a mood that comes when I know I’m stuck and need to get unstuck. It’s not a turf war unless you consider the new ground I’m trying to break. Somewhere along the last few years I decided that learning how to be fearless would be a good thing. Hiding in cave doesn’t get me there. Neither does scrubbing my floors.

I “get” the dream I had last week — being fearless doesn’t mean being a bitch. Nor can one be fearless by being a people pleasing doormat with no sense of self. And you can’t be fearless and full of self-pity at the same time..

I told you last week that Jim’s book kicked me in the gut — it did. Do you know how I know I was reading truth? I started feeling sorry for myself – a sure sign that I needed to keep reading. Turns out I left out a key ingredient in my new adventures. I forgot to define what kind of woman I want to be. I know, I know – My kids are grown and almost moved out, I’m doing stand up, my husband travels — I tell people all the time that I’m the ADHD Bouncy Ball of Tulsa that keeps my family moving. Who needs definition? Well, turns out it might be a good thing after all. Besides, I can already tell that my husband is at great risk of being mothered by me, and that as we all know is bad.

In chapter 2 of Real Men, Jim writes… ” and so he asked me, when the (deleted) are you going to grow up and become a man?…to do that he told me I had to define what kind of man I was…there is a big difference between knowing what you want to be and defining it…”

Are you following me here?. Growing up isn’t just about finding a man, settling down and raising a family. Sure that’s a great thing, and maybe for you a big part of it, but if you — or I — don’t define for ourselves WHO we are, we leave ourselves open to the waves of opinion and emotion, and have no home turf. There is nothing more draining on a man – or woman really – whose mate uses them as their only mirror of self-esteem and knowledge. Wanting to be fearless and going back onstage isn’t going to do me a darn bit of good if I don’t have clearly defined direction. My spine will be crushed under the weight of need.

He goes on to write: ” the kid has a goal in mind, but has yet to develop his definition of himself…he needs to identify a few things that define his goal…we as men (sic women too) need to take back our sense of self, define who we are and stand by it, instead of listening to what other people want us to be and then trying to stuff ourselves into that mold…once you figure out what is important to you, you have to stand by it..Most (people) have not defined who they are, and have not come up with their terms.”

 Part of learning how to be fearless — involves action. Willingness (to be fearless) without action is fantasy — I say that a lot. I thought I was the right track, and yes and no.  I missed a step or twelve. So that’s why I’m in a brood. (which my word for moodiness caused by brooding.) Instead of defining what I want that closet to be filled with, I’m coasting, hopeing someone else can define it for me — that way if it doesn’t work out? I have someone else to blame.

That’s really what coasting and people pleasing is you know — a passive form of blameshifting. The victim of this tactic is usually our parents or significant other.

This is actually really good advice. And it’s something I apparently needed to be reminded of.

To quote my friend Pam – also from Chicago I might add — this my friend is AFGO. Another Fantastic (not the word she used) Growth Opportunity. Yes, Pam it is..

It’s not all loss. I’m moving forward, I just need to go back and fill in some gaps even if I am ADHD and would rather wing it. What about you? Do you have your road map? Or are you just coasting along hoping someone else navigates thereby letting you off the hook? It’s okay if you are, recognizing that is a great start – – don’t stop there — do something about it. I am, starting today.

Book Review: Real Men Don’t Apologize by Jim Belushi

Deana6 Comments

Real Men Don’t Apologize

James Belushi

  • Hardcover: 288 pages
  • Publisher: Hyperion; 1st ed/1st printing edition (May 9, 2006)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 1401301827
  • ISBN-13: 978-1401301828

    • WARNING: This is not my typical kind of post and I’m not sure it’s family friendly — but it is 100% me. Like it or leave it. Remember that dream I had about Jim last week? Well, I decided to dig into it and see if perhaps I might be able to learn something – so I bought his book. I never watched According to Jim because it was on Tuesdays and well, Fox rules Tuesday night. ;-D I have no idea what that show is about, but I do know about the book. I’m giving it 4 stars out of 5.

    Okay, I’ll admit it, I used to cry when Mr. Rogers came on TV. Why? Because he scared me.  My Grandfather owned a hardware store near Syracuse NY, and the rest of the men worked in construction.  My mother was a book-keeper for several construction companies. I had men around, they just didn’t wear cardigan sweaters and penny loafers. The men in my life came with blood, sweat, tears, mouths and beer. Mr Rogers looked like the creepy neighbor up the street all the kids were told to stay away from.

    Surrounded by construction, and raised by a single Mom, it’s really no surprise that I grew up to become the only female on an all male crew at Sprint Communications in Chicago back in 1987. These guys taught me everything I know about hard work, telecom and the essentials of smoking, drinking and swearing. (Something my husband has spent 22 years trying to unteach me) Even my Father-in-law was a Teamster and he taught me how to play poker and let me swear when his son wasn’t around. Dad is gone now, but oh I loved him.

     As frequently as I’d punch one of guys I worked with in the arm for “being a pig” I always knew I was the safest when I was with my crew. I could trust them — because they were men who behaved like real men when it counted. They protected me when I needed protection and they kicked me in the backside when I needed that as well. They were honest and they were real.

    The only exception to this rule is the married slime ball who tried to sleep with me when we were on a job together in Dallas. I turned him down and it wasn’t pretty. He was kinda mad. My shift manager found out and after verbally reaming me for being so stupid (I’d been flirting with the guy because I thought I could get away with it.) he sent me back to Chicago. The guys took me out, and filled me in on the facts of life, like I’ve never heard – the complete and unabridged version not fit for this blog.

    I was only 22, on my own for the first time and grateful to have men in my life who gave it to me straight, held me accountable, and protected me when needed. I owe a lot of who I am as a women today, to these men.  I never saw dipshit again. Rumor has it they sent him to work with the rats in the sewers. I’ve been to our warehouse on Wacker drive, I’ve seen those rats. (They are bigger than my dog) and I’m happy he found a home away from home.

    So what does all that have to do with Jim Belushi’s book, Real Men Don’t Apologize? A lot. I’m setting the scene. While this book is obviously written by a man for men — I enjoyed it. Yes, it’s sometimes rude, crude and vile and yes I did at times wish I could punch him in the arm for “being a pig,” however,  my past experience with men helps me sift through the BS. He has a lot of great truths in here that I believe women should know about. The problem is, most women I know wouldn’t be able to sift through or stomach the raw nature of his writing and that’s a shame some of it is actually laugh out loud funny. And some of it requires an interpreter — which is where my husband really came in handy. I’ll add — much to his dismay, there are some things that should just stay between the guys. He’s right. I didn’t need to really understand all of that.

    I read this book in two days. You don’t believe me, go look at my kitchen, it’s a mess. I’ll get it cleaned up. There were pieces in this book that kicked me in the gut – it reminded me of the good old days of Chicago and my crew, God how I miss those guys. There are things here I need to learn and do for myself and I’ll leave that for another day and another blog. 

    Real men don’t apologize for who they are – even in face of a woman who is trying to make them — That’s big ladies. If you are a harpie or someone bent on castrating a man, this book will really upset you. Jim’s advice to men – know who you are, live who you are, and know your boundaries, are great adages for women as well. (Things I’m not doing well right now)  It’s also good to know Belushi’s Five commandments — and Jim or Jim’s attorney, please forgive me — But I HAVE to share this – my husband has the same “rules.” This is what respect looks like to both my husband and apparently to Jim.

    1. Thou Shalt Not Shush Me – ever
    2.  Thou Shalt Not Steal 
    3.  Thou Shalt Not Banish Me to the Couch – this is a non-negotiable rule in our house, has been since I met my husband in 1987. Unless I’m snoring and then he banishes himself. (which of course I never do.)
    4. Thou Shalt not Compete with Me (Personal note: women don’t always know what competing looks like to you guys – really wish he’d expounded here.)
    5. Thou Shalt not expect an apology for something I am not sorrieth for

    This is an excellent book — language and crudeness aside — he speaks well of his wife Jenny and his children and the sweetest thing in it – the end. He tells what the ONE thing Jenny gave him that no other woman ever did — and to find that out, you have to read the book.

     If you’re brave, check it out – skim through the “yuckier” stuff if you have to, but I warn you don’t skim too far he’s buried some wonderful surprises in there.

    And for those who’d rather just judge the title of the book — don’t. Under no circumstances does he ever say, be a jerk, treat people badly and make no excuses. He sets the scene very early about that. Chapter One I believe in a “man quiz” — Real men own their mess — and I’m sorry is a manipulative word – if you did something wrong, own it and clean it up do not blame shift. And that — is respectful.

    To order his book check out the web page: Jim Belushi or to check out his newest show The Defenders on CBS

    This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart: Confessions of a Spiritual Bulimic. All rights reserved. No goods or services were received in exchange for this review.

    Friday Funny PG-13, Date Night

    Deana2 Comments

    I love date night. It’s an excuse to dress up and be adults and try to be interesting again. It also beats walking around in sweats with my hair pulled back in pony tail. Which, sadly very easily becomes my stay-home-wife costume most days. I get in slumps where I know I’m not going anywhere important and I get lazy. I’m very female, I love to be pursued by man – in every sense of the word. Even on the days when I am pushing his hands away and telling him “not now” I really love it. I need date nights.

    While spontaneous dates can be fun, I prefer the planned ahead kind. I like knowing it’s on the calendar, that he’s planned it out and all I have to do is get dolled up – for him – and be ready to go out when he gets home.  Jeff told me on Monday that he wanted to go out on Thursday and I had all week to plan and look ahead. I love the anticipation. We wound up going to one of my favorite restaurant in Utica Square and went to a new wine bar after that. The whole night was planned and I didn’t have to do a thing — PERFECT!

    Relationship books will tell you that it is important to schedule dates and even sex, otherwise things like that get left to the way side of marriage, kids, and jobs. I wholeheartedly agree, while spontaneity has its perks, planning can be a lot fun.

    Several years ago, I decided to be cute with my hubby’s blackberry. This little gem contains the life, the universe, and everything and has a nifty calendar feature. I started simply enough, posting important dates like birthdays, anniversaries, school plays and then I put things like “send your wife flowers today.” Then for fun, I added a little something extra — I picked a random date that was open and entered a lunch date in which he was to “go home and ravish wife.” In other words, I scheduled a sex date for the middle of the day just for fun.

    I overlooked one small item. Corporate issued cell phones sync to corporate view calendars. Every day my husband plugged his blackberry into his computer to upload his calendar. Imagine his surprise when his secretary called him to say that she was trying to schedule a meeting for him but he had a conflict. When he asked her what kind of conflict she hesitated and then giggled.

    “Uh, it says here that you have a lunch date to go home and ravish your wife. Should I move that out or do you want me to deny this other meeting?”

    I no longer have access to his cell phone.

    So tell me, what is the funniest thing you have done with your husband or significant other in trying to be romantic?

    Written by: Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart: Confessions of a Spiritual Bulimic. All rights reserved. October 15, 2010

    Wordless Wednesday: Clowning Around

    Deana2 Comments
    Younger Days - College Circa 1984

    Never Skip Church to Write Comedy: Just Sayin’

    Deana8 Comments

    (Added 1/3/11 – Not that I’m neurotic or anything – okay, I am, but that isn’t the point. – While I’m happy you are here – please note that this post is just an off-center offering regarding a glimpse at my strange mind — it’s not about Jim so if you are looking for him – check his web page at www.jimbelushi.ws – really – you will be glad you did. That is the only official page for Jim Belushi – according to his webmaster, Jim is not on Facebook. Correction: Jim is now on Facebook according to his webmaster and you can find it HERE.) – 9/13 Oh and TY Google for screwing up your “tidbits” and making people think  I said THIS (as in my blog) is his page when I said the ws page was.  Okay back to our regularly scheduled post.

    I had a dream the other day that I was married to Jim Belushi and I am beside myself over the irony.

    It was your typical Sunday afternoon. The guys are watching football on the big screen and I am up in our room writing comedy on my lap top. I am on fire, writing great bits of wit and wisdom.  I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, I am no longer in my room but on a sound stage. I look at my teenage son and notice he’s written the letters U and F on his front teeth — he had apparently looked in a mirror while writing his message to the world with a sharpie. Dad (Played by Jim Belushi) enters the kitchen scene and we argue over our son’s newest stunt. I point out that every time he smiles he’s really telling us something obscene, even if it is dyslexic. Dad scratches his head and acts oblivious, I call him a moron – enter canned laughter and I exit the scene.

    Off set I place my hand on my chest and proclaim to myself “Yes! I so totally rock as a comedic actress.” Looking back I see a look of shock on Jim’s face. A heaviness settles in my heart and before I can shake it, the scene goes black.

    SCENE TWO:

    I am in my real bedroom sorting and tossing monstrously huge broken bottles of  conditioner into a trash bag on my bed. My heart is heavy and I am feeling more insecure than I’ve felt in ages, which is saying a lot really. I’m speaking with a brunette mother figure and simply ask her to go get Jim for me, I want to speak to him.

    This scene is different, it’s not a set. My confidence is gone and each bottle of hair product I try to throw away is larger and more awkward than the last. I’m lost in that struggle when Jim enters behind me, clears his throat and waves a pillow in my direction to get my attention.

    I take a step toward him, only he crosses his arms and so  I stop. I”m a wreck and while he notices that, he does nothing to make me feel better. He simply stares at me for what feels like forever and finally speaks. We are apparently married or something in this dream and Jim definitely has the upper hand in this conversation.

    Jim: You wanted something?

    Me: yeah. About what I said. I shouldn’t have said that.

    Jim: You mean calling me a moron?

    Me: (Eyes on the floor) Yes, That. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said it.

    Jim: Do you think I’m a moron?

    Me: (Looking up) NO!

    Jim: Then why did you say it?

    Me: I don’t know.

    Jim: (Arms still crossed raises right eye brow.)

    Me: (Shuffles feet, starts smoothing my bedspread) – I was trying to be confident and funny. Like you guys. (Personal comment here: Like I’d EVER say that out loud, you know? I’m such a dork in my dreams.)

    Jim: So, calling me a moron makes you confident and funny?

    Me: yes, I mean No. … sigh.. I was trying to fit in. I’m not like you guys – but I want to be.  (Sit down on bed and stares at floor.) – (Wouldn’t say that one either! Who writes this crud. Oh yeah, I’m dreaming that’s right. sigh)

    Jim: (Scratches his head and catches my eyes) — So you don’t think I’m a moron.

    Me: No, I don’t. Actually, I think you’re awesome.

    Jim: (Arms unfold and hands go in pockets) I see. …Comedy is a tough deal. First thing I’d tell you is to quit trying so hard to fit in. You are better than that and that won’t bring you confidence. People see right through that crap anyway.  Just be yourself. Oh and don’t call me a Moron, it hurts my feelings.

    Jim leaves the room and I lay down.

    Scene goes black. and I wake up.

    It

    was

    a

    dream.

    CRAP —

    I have to admit this dream kinda shook me up for the rest of the day as well as most of Monday. As a middle-aged woman stepping on stage, entering into yet again another male dominated field – having a dream about Jim Belushi calling me out, is a bit of a neurotic deal, you know? I mean he’s played all the venues I’ve ever dreamed of back when I performed all those years ago – Second City, SNL, Movies, Sitcoms. You name it he’s done it. He’s like the Godfather of comedy.  Okay, maybe that was a stretch, but you know what I mean right?  I used to see him at Cubs games when I lived in Chicago. No I don’t know him. Never met the guy.  Still, he’s fearless and funny and just a regular joe from Chicago and I felt like a five-year old in trouble with Dad in that last scene.

    And so I’m stuck with two thoughts:

    1. Jim Belushi is either some kind of father figure, my conscience, or God, and I’ve totally lost my mind

    AND

    2. I’ll never skip church to write comedy again. I’m pretty sure God is messing with me.

    I could ask a thousand questions about what does this all mean, why Jim? Why the neuroses? Why can’t I have a cricket for a conscience? Why the conditioner – okay if you’ve seen my hair you get that one.  Question’s won’t help. I still have my set for Yukon to finish editing. I have to look at Jim later — I’m sure there is something about him — that made him come to mind while writing on Sunday — Time will tell. I did delete everything I wrote on Sunday afternoon, — Dream Jim was right, it really wasn’t that good.

    For those interested, Mr Belushi is in a new television series called The Defenders which is actually really good. I like it. You cannot turn on a tv without seeing an advertisement for this show, which is probably why he was on my brain to begin with. At least I hope that is the reason and this isn’t going to turn into some Christmas Scrooge thing where I’m visited by comic ghosts of the past, present, and future. That would suck.

    (Side note: I did buy his book, Real Men According to Jim, and reviewed it HERE.)

    Monday Menus: October 11 2010

    Deana3 Comments

    Confession: I sometimes treat my stay at home role as something I’m doing until my son graduates and I can go get a “real” job. The downside of that is multifaceted. Not only do I miss the moment, my family misses the connection while I dream and plan my days away.

    Choosing to leave my telecommunications job in 1997 to stay home and raise our boys was definitely the right choice. Staying home was a lot more fun when they were little and in grade school because I had things I could be involved in. I loved being a home room mom, planning school events and even serving on the Parent Teacher League.  Now that my boys are in high school and college, there isn’t as much to do other than drive them places.  Yes, we made sacrifices so that I could stay home – losing my salary was a rather large one. And yes it was worth it. But I have to tell you, housecleaning, does not fulfill me. I need goals and things to focus on that are healthy and productive.

    With D-man a junior in high school I find myself chomping at the bit for freedom instead of enjoying our last two years together.  I have freedom, and I think that is part of my issue. Gaining 60 pounds since they started high school is no coincidence. I eat – in part – because I’m bored.

    Boredom is one of the things that really gets me into trouble when it comes to eating, that and lack of planning. I live with all men and it’s easy to just pick up grab and go junk food and not have healthy choices in the house. My guys could live on chicken wings and bacon – I think we need a better variety, don’t you? This new menu will definitely challenge my cooking skills. I went with a few new easy cook books. Better Crocker Healthy Heart, Dr Gott’s No Sugar No Flour, and The American Heart Association Cook book.  All three of these list calories per serving and all three are good for cooks like me – short on patience and time.

    On the positive front, even with my feeble efforts of just not snacking so much, I’m down eight of the 15 pounds I gained post hysterectomy. Not too shabby for a month’s efforts.  I want to keep that momentum going and starting this week I  am grabbing my books and planning a real menu for the week and post it here.

    Menu For Week of October 11, 2010

    • Make ahead Real Oatmeal for breakfast (From Dr Gott)
    • Make ahead Easy Fruit Salad, for lunches or snacking.
    • Mon: Glazed Beef Tenderloin with Herbed New Potatoes
    • Tues: Baked Fish with Italian Rice
    • Wed: Glazed Chicken over Couscous Pilaf – this is my night at the Looney Bin (Comedy Club) so I need something easy that I can make ahead and leave for the guys.
    • Thurs: Morning Star Tex-Mex Salad
    • Friday: Spring Time Pasta and Sausage
    • Sat: Date Night – eating down town with family the going to see Jeff Foxworthy at the BOK Center.
    • Sun: Grilled Garlic Sage Pork Roast

     

    I haven’t figured out what kind of snacks I need available in the house yet. We have the standard fruit and cut up veggies, but I’d like to add variety. I am eliminating chips, ice cream and sugar laden cookies and cakes. I can hoover a pan of brownies in a day, and so can my 17 year old I’ve discovered. I’ll play with some healthy recipes this week and let ya’ll know what we like next week.

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    Oktoberfest and other pet peeves

    Deana4 Comments

    I am blessed in knowing that sobriety has been part of my life much longer than active alcoholism and yet, my buttons still get pushed. While I myself do like to drink from time to time, nothing can incite anger and anxiety more quickly than being around a bunch of heavy drinking.  Keeping my button covered isn’t always easy. My fuse is too short for my own comfort.

    I still have my childhood memories of abuse, fights, rape (not me but someone else), hunger, loneliness, shame — and I have my memories of AA and Al-Anon — rooms full of broken people just like us, trying to get well. Even so. Even after 30 plus years of recovery, I do at times struggle with the emotional scars left behind.

    Setting boundaries doesn’t always work. Or rather they do work, they just aren’t always well received. I choose not to participate in events where I know people are going to be drunk. For me that’s a way of protecting myself. I’m not being judgemental when I say no. Boundaries are about taking care of me, and not about you. And so I say no to things like working the beer tent at Tulsa Oktoberfest, staying late at weddings, attending Bible Studies that over flow with wine, things like that.

    I don’t believe alcohol should be served in church and yet many churches host their own version of Oktoberfest and pastors brew the beer for it. Are they sinning? No. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like for once to go to a church event that does not revolve around alcohol, and wanting that doesn’t make me a prude. It just makes me, well, me. Now I will add that my own church does not participate in this. Yes, we have our annual German dinner, and No we do not serve alcohol.

    One of our sweet elders escaped me unharmed this week — I owe that to God’s arm, not my own.  He was promoting the annual men’s retreat and his “sales pitch” revolved around how much beer and wine there was going to be. I sadly commented that I thought the weekend was supposed to be about God. I do not fault this man entirely — he missed my warning my shot as I walked away. Why he chose to follow me into the sanctuary, I’ll never know. But follow me he did. He also tried to grab my arm. Stepping into my body space he committed suicide. I received his actions as physical aggression, and when he quoted scripture to me by saying even Paul told Timothy that “a little wine is good for the stomach.” I received his words as spiritual aggression as well. In that instant, he missed my heart and destroyed all respect for him. Our relationship will never be the same.

    Another excuse I frequently hear is “Well Jesus turned water into wine.” Yes, Jesus turned water into wine, but that doesn’t mean that Jesus partied. To say that he did is to blaspheme his character.

    I do agree that a little wine in private and among friends is good for you. I serve beer and wine in my home when I’m among friends, that doesn’t bother me. Yet, while having it at a church sponsored function, makes people happy, it causes me a great deal of pain.

    I was reminded of a wonderful quote this week by a speaker I once heard. “There are no limitations to your being yourself except the life of the person near you. You can’t express your freedom if doing so causes others pain. Where my freedom begins, yours ends. And the reverse is true.” — John DeFoore, Abilene TX.

    I can’t change people – or the churches that choose to serve alcohol at events — but I can be honest in my feelings — And in doing so, maybe I can give others something to think about. If you’re interested — let’s talk about it. Have you been effected by alcoholism? Does your church serve alcohol. How does that make you feel?

    The Roar of Courage

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    Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, I’ll try again tomorrow. – Mary Anne Radmacher

    I am not much of the roaring lion type — unless I’m dealing with a rebellious teen — don’t ask. Still, I do find new days and new ways of doing something brave.

    Take stand-up for instance. Those who’ve been following my blog know that I’ve stepped out of the house and onto the stage. It hasn’t been easy. Truth be told my first few times doing comedy, my fear spoke more loudly than my jokes. Even though I’m afraid, I keep going back. My biggest hurdle facing me right now, is the microphone. I don’t know how to handle it well and therefore I’m intimidated by it.  And yes, Sigmund Freud would have a field day with that.

    Jeff, “Touch it.”

     Me, “I don’t want to touch it.”

    Jeff, “The Microphone is your friend, Deana.”

    Me, “Yeah, well you told me something else was my friend and now we have two sons.”

    I was asked to perform recently and it was the first time on stage since my hysterectomy. Nervous would be an understatement.  The mic was “hot” according the host and for me, that spelled trouble. So, I handled my fear the way I handle all fears, I just avoided the mic. And lost a lot of laughs because of it.

    Good news is, I still got invited back and will have my chance to try again. Which is a good thing, because I have a show in Yukon at the end of the month.

    What about you?

    What thing do you get to try again?

    Hey Ma! Can I keep It?

    Deana3 Comments
    Chicago Botanical Gardens

    I’m hiding in my room today. I actually have the flu, but I’m also hiding from my gardens. I had great plans to write about my fall gardens and the beautiful colors that are coming out. It is time to weed back my summer beds so that my fall mums can bloom. Unfortunately, I believe my mums are going to have to bloom without me this year.

    You see, my son found a tarantula this week, and I haven’t recovered. He asked if he could keep it. We have in the past been home to an odd assortment of tree frogs, snakes (hidden in his closet because I had said no to those at some point), hamsters, guinea pigs, lizards, dogs, cats and fish but never a spider, so his request was not unusual. That’s why I’m here in my room and not outdoors. Not because I let him keep his furry friend, but rather because I didn’t and it is now roaming free in my gardens. I hate spiders more than I hate snakes. Over the years we’ve had to edit our pet allowance verbiage. “Must have legs” has now been changed to “no more than four legs allowed.”

    I have a tarantula living in my garden beds. And I’ve seen the movie Eight Legged Freaks with my boys and I am freaked out. I think I’ll let him keep the garden.

    Charlie is away at college and Dillon is a Junior in high school. I know the day will come when I’ll miss our ad-hoc petting zoo.  Well, I’ll miss the boys, that much I do know.

    I wrote a song years back describing life with boys — It’s sung to the tune “My Favorite Things.”

    There are frogs on the curtains

    and snakes in the closet

    lizards in cages

    and mud on the faucets

    smelly old gym socks stuffed in every chair,

    is it any wonder I’m losing my hair?

    I don’t know what

    happened to me

    I used to be so calm

    now it’s fist fights

    and wrestling in my living room

    and endless calls…

    for Mooom!

     I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just, no spiders please.

     This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart: Confessions of a Spiritual Bulimic. All rights reserved. September 30, 2010.