Life of the Party

                                                                                           

There is a movie on cable called Life of the Party starring Melissa McCarthy. I saw the movie on television at least four times. I’ve watched it alone and then I have watched it with my daughter and with one of my granddaughters. I know that I have downloaded it on my DVR. Today while I was in Target, I saw it on the shelf and promptly picked it up, purchased it, and bought it.

To me, this movie spoke volumes. It’s so funny, despite at times being unbelievable.  The opening scene where the husband and wife dropped off their daughter at college really resonant with me. I had nine children and each time that one would go off to college, a small part of me died when I had to say goodbye. The part that really resonated was when the couple drove off and the husband stopped the car, looked at his wife and announces that he wants a divorce. The confused look and then the disbelief and then the hurt on the woman’s face are gut wrenching to say the least.  I felt the same way the main character did and still remember it. That scene hit close to my life because my ex left me after our youngest child went to college.

The wife could have bottomed out, taken drugs or alcohol, but instead after a few days, she enrolls in college; the same college where her daughter is attending. That was pretty ironical because I did the same thing; I enrolled in a master’s program in one of the area colleges. None of my children attended that college.

Unlike a few things that were similar, the main character and I had a number of differences. She probably was in her early 40s while I was in my mid-50s.  She had that school spirit and was eager to attend college even to the point of living on campus, and buying ever school spirit shirt, hat, sweatshirt and more.

I didn’t live on campus. I was a commuter. I was nervous but I wanted a degree in writing. I also hadn’t set foot on campus for over 35 years. Things had really changed; even to how young the students, the instructors, and my own advisor. I realized that I could easily have been their mother. It didn’t help that my advisor was cute…that just made me tongue tied and uncomfortable. My writing was good but my advisor was a poet and he liked the works of the younger writers. It seemed vulgar language and sex was high on his preferential list. My life in comparison was dull; it was filled with kids, grandkids, animals, and self-doubt.

The main character in the movie seemed to fit into the college scene well. She even went to a frat party, where her daughter upgraded her mother’s looks. The Mom looked great and younger and eventually she would end up with one of the frat guys and do the so called ‘walk of shame’ out of the fraternity house. That scene was uncontrollably hilarious and now I know why depends are the in thing.

There is also a scene in the movie, where the main character ate her fill of chocolate bark, only to be informed it was medical marijuana. I sampled a chocolate candy and like the main character my eyes felt like those comic book googly eyes. The world felt different and waves of uncontrollable laughter assaulted me. Going up was great, coming down was not so much fun. By the way – when I sampled this edible treat I was in a state where it was legal.

Yes, she graduated with her daughter. Her future seemed pretty good and positive. I graduated as well and am plying my trade as a writer. Sometimes I come out on the winning end, despite writing and researching places to send my stories, and being rejected.

So, every so often when I need a good laugh or I need to pick myself up…I put on Life of the Party and laugh my way up.

The Dead and Cherry Garcia

Going to my doctor for a check-up is just part of life. It is hard to see your former doctor retire. I enjoyed the old camaraderie with her. She retired and now I have a new one and that doctor happens to be so young…that he can actually be my son. No more explanation is needed.

In the past, I usually had some rapport with my physician. I could joke and she would joke in return. Joking and laughter was pretty much how I handle most things in life. It helps. But my latest doctor is so serious or he would rather deal with younger patients. Every time I go and have a check-up, I leave with a feeling of being so old; older than dirt. I am in good health. My weight is normal, I exercise, I work a few times a week, I drive my grandchild a few days a week back and forth to school, and hang out with my grandchildren.

But some of the questions that I am asked by the nurse or doctor makes me roll my eyes and not want to respond. When I do…I act feel a complete idiot. Well, how do you answer your physician when he says, “So, if you were to drop to the ground, here…what would you want me to do?” I thought he was talking about my living will, or did I drop because I had done more than a day fast for the blood test this day, or did he want me to do a set of push-ups?

I was confused and said something like, “Well, I have a living will.”

Which he responded, “No, this is different. What if something happened and you dropped to the office floor?”

I assumed my heart gave out or I passed out and said in a dry voice, “Nudge me with your toe and give it the old college try and see if you can revive me.” But in my mind I was thinking, “What the hell!”

By the time I leave the doctor’s office, I am grateful that I am in good health. I hate going to see my doctor but I have to have my blood checked every six months. So, the next time when I am asked some of these questions, hopefully, I can respond with something much better. Or maybe I can say, “What if you drop to the floor, what you would like me to do, Doc?”

I’m not quite sure how doctors are being trained but I hope when my time comes…I will just drop over and no one will be around to ask me, “What do you want me to do?” But maybe my response should be, “Just play a Grateful Dead song and eat a container of Cherry Garcia in my honor.”

Pets are Much More...

I usually go through FB. Today, I saw a picture of my niece’s dog, Sadie. Sadie became her dog after her father died. Her dad was my brother. I know how Julie must feel. Pets are special and more.

The night my brother died, I stayed at his house and slept in his bed with Sadie. Sadie knew something was wrong. She slept with me and gave me a lot of comfort that night. I needed it. Oddly, I slept well that night.

There were another times that an animal gave me comfort. The first time was when I took a kitten from our greenhouse because they were going to take her to the Human Society. The kitten was black and white and fluffy. I drove home with the kitten sitting on my lap, meowing at the highest decibel possible. At first, I named the kitten Fluffy but later changed it to Scraps, when it kept grabbing food out of my hand. Scraps comforted me when my marriage ended. She was my constant companion until she passed away.

The next day after Scraps died…I went into the greenhouse to work. I was sad and as I entered the greenhouse, I saw the greenhouse cat, Tonka sleeping in her bed. I went over and Tonka woke up and meowed. I petted her for a long time and looked at him, and then I went to plant in another greenhouse. Tonka followed me that day and slept on my work bench, close by. Every time I looked over and talked to him, he meowed, as if to say, "Everything is going to be okay." When the day was over, I petted Tonka and said, “You know. Thank you.”

Animals become substitutes. We have a special bond with them. They are like lightning rods. They seem to know when we are happy, down, or totally sad.

I am truly sorry for my niece’s loss of Sadie. Sadie was a pleasant reminder of her Dad; a close connection.  If I have any advice to give…give it time and then get another pet. They need a home; a loving home and they give back a hundredfold.

Food Truck

Mary's Sweets and More...

Sometimes I wish that I was younger. If that wish came true, and I woke up younger tomorrow, I would do something different with my life.  If I woke up in a different time, I would buy myself a Food Truck and sell baked goods from it.

I’m not a professional baker. I have been helping my daughter out in her catering kitchen for a few years. First as her cleaner. After a time, I helped her prepare her foods, maybe cut up the fruits, vegetables, and cheeses. As I got a little better, I was allowed to make the fruit trays, cheese and meat trays, and the vegetable trays. This played well into my creative vein and I have to admit I did a great presentation of whatever foods I displayed. There were also times that I made her salads, lasagnas, meat loaves. I would do this her way and follow her recipes and instructions

The last couple of years, I stepped up and have been baking for her catering events and for her downtown Deli. To be honest, I have to say that I enjoy working alone in her kitchen. Being alone helps me to concentrate on what I am doing. I enjoy baking the regular cookies and scones. I also like to try out new recipes for cookies, scones, cupcakes, and cake loaves. It helps to get feedback from her customers and find out if they enjoy the ‘sweets’. Occasionally, I get requests for certain different baked goods or for ones that I have never made. Usually, I find a recipe and try them out.

After working for someone else, I get why people want to be their own boss and why they launch their own businesses.

When I see a Food Truck go by, I envision me driving it and my name printed on the side – Mary’s Sweets and More.  Then I sigh and realize maybe just wishing might be enough. Maybe?