Death & Love

I learned on New Year’s Day that my 90 year-old grandmother {on my dad’s side} had passed away on New Year’s Eve.  I had a very strange feeling.  It wasn’t sadness, you see I didn’t really have a relationship with her, even though every single time I did get to see her when, say we would drive to Texas at Christmas or Thanksgiving every 5 to 10 years, I would sneak into her bathroom and smell all of her beautiful fancy perfumes and she would come in and show me how she put on her flawless make up and put make up on me.  She reminded me of Marilyn Monroe.  She really was a beautiful lady.  Blonde hair, immaculate skin.  Even until the day she died.  She died at 90 years-old but I failed to say that it was only one week prior to her death that she was living in a house by herself and out driving to the store when all of a sudden realized she didn’t know where she was.  She moved to Atlanta by then and lived next door to her daughter, my aunt.  She frantically called her and my aunt had to go find her.  One week before she died.  But she was not going to buck up like most elderly people do.  My grandfather had been an insurance agent for over 50 years and even though they were separated – but never legally – he had her the top notch insurance for assisted living care.  She gladly gave up her car keys and quickly checked into the family health care center.  For one week.  And then she was gone.

You see, my mom and grandmother hated each other {btw: this is my mom’s version; I did get to hear my grandmother’s version about 2 years ago…more on that later…}Growing up, I was always told how evil my grandmother was, even though I felt something in my heart that what I was being told was wrong.  I was told a lot of adult stuff that I should not have heard about but my mom is “off” just a little, even though it took years to “see” it. My dad will make his typical excuses that she had an awful childhood and an entire rehearsed story, which I’ve heard so many times I could recite word for word. It was only recently that my eyes were opened to “see” my father so I’m still working on that wound.

I am not close with my family.  I never would have known anything was wrong with my family until that morning my Sophomore year in college as I sat down for my first Child Development class.  I knew when I walked or rather staggered out of that classroom,  that my family was not only crazy, we were down right bat shit crazy!  But I have learned that most families are dysfunctional to some extent.  That is until I met my husband.

My husband is cool as friggin shit. #Facts Much more on him later but his family scared the shit out of me for the first 5, maybe even up to 8 years I knew him.   They all hugged and laughed at dinners togethers and they had actual get togethers just for the fun of it.  WTF?!  They would hug me and I would stand stiff praying they would realize I was trying to freeze them out of my personal space.  My personal space at that time was about a 5 foot radius all around my body.  People dare not try to enter that oh so special place of mine.  It’s safe and there’s never a crowd.  And you can ask anyone who has ever known me, my “walls” are EXTREMELY obvious should you meet me or are around me for the first second you see me.  I really want people to stay away from me because I don’t want to be around them {unless it’s someone I do want to be around} so I am the master of body language.  If you haven’t heard about the Enneagram, look it up.  Don’t take any tests first.  You’ll get the results of who you think you are.  Just read about all the types – for a long time.  Think, study, etc and really decide which type you are.  I’m a Type 8.  Hitler was Type 8.  But Mother Teresa was also Type 8.  Soon I will be writing about the Enneagram types and “wings” and give some really great resources.  You will become obsessed.

So long for tonight.  There’s death and love.  I’m here to tell you that love is incredible if you learn what real love is.  And also, if you think not one person in this universe doesn’t love you, you are wrong.  I am sending love vibes to you right this second.  So somebody does love you.  I hope you have an incredible week.  You are a very special person.  Just look for the signs.  They are right there.



It was almost 4 years ago that I first created this blog. I knew in my gut that God wanted me to create it so I listened and created the Blog and even bought the rights to the website name. For 4 years, I’ve mulled over ideas and themes and who I wanted my target audience to be. 4 long years. I turned 40 last spring and starting about 6 months prior to my birthday, I was really, really dreading my birthday for the 1st time in my life. My husband is over a decade older than me so he would tell me at certain ages that “such and such” would happen {“you just wait”, he’d say smiling}. I don’t know what it was about 40 but I was not looking forward to it. Maybe I thought that meant you were an official adult? Maybe it was because my doctor said that “middle age women commonly face what I was going through”. Wait. Excuse me, doc? What does my issue have to do with middle aged women? I left his office just bewildered at this comment. After getting home and telling my husband the weird comment, he looked me in the eye and said “Babe, he said that because you are a middle aged woman.” What? TF you say! Whatever! What does he know? He’s such a guy! Only to slowly “become awake” to the fact that oh my gosh, “I WAS A MIDDLE-EFFIN-AGED WOMAN”. So I’ve been on a long, twisted, up and down journey to become an official “mature” middle-aged effin woman. This blog will be about a lot of shit but I know for sure that it is something God wants me to do. I love to write and I’ve been told I’m decent at it so if you like reading everything from goofy, sarcastic, deep-thinking, thought-provoking to me asking you questions, follow me. This is completely new for me. I may fail but I’m going out on a limb and saying Fuck You FEAR! It’s time to use my gift. I hope to see you next time.