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The Speckled Trout is a year old this month, and this is post #305.  Sheesh, that’s a lot of writing.  When I first started, it would take me days to finish one post.  I’d work on it, delete half of it, rewrite it, post it, take it down, put it back up, find a typo, fix it, put it back up.  I wonder if the five people who were reading it back then were like, “What the hell???  I was just in the middle of reading something and now it’s gone.”

Thankfully, writing nearly every day has improved my ability to clearly get my thoughts down and it doesn’t take as long as it used to.  However……….since about December it has been a real struggle to maintain five days a week of posting, and I’ll be my own critic here and say that I don’t love what I’m putting out lately.  That takes time to formulate and I’ve got other things competing with that at the moment.

Rather than hold myself to the rigorous schedule I started, I am going to cut back on the posting so I’m doing it 2 – 3 times a week.  I spend my days writing in my head, and tend to fly up the stairs to get it written down because I’m so excited when it comes together.  Dork alert……a good sentence makes me crazy happy.  Instead of flying up the stairs lately, it’s been more of a trudge and that makes for forced writing, not good writing.  I have some longer pieces I’ve been kicking around, so I will see you here sometime next week with a return of my mojo.

HE has nothing to do with the above, but I’m thinking he might be the cure for my self-diagnosed Seasonal Affective Disorder, even though a certain Ellen friend always claims to have dibs on him………….

My neighbor, Mary, has MS.  She was diagnosed when she was 19.  You couldn’t imagine what thirty-five years of a disease like that can do to a person, and none of it is good.

Recently, Mary needed to get a crown.  Not the pretty, sparkly kind, but the expensive drool-inducing kind, and she asked me to take her to the dentist.  When I picked her up, she scheduled a return appointment to get her permanent crown put on, and asked me if I could bring her back.  Only if I’m not working by then, Mary.  Sure enough, two weeks later You Know Who is available for a ride to the dentist.  It is my custom to reward myself for any dental work I have endured, and I told Mary that when I picked her up.  Little work, little reward.  Big work, big reward.  Mary’s not as greedy as me, so she decided on coffee and a muffin.

We sat in the local coffee shop talking about kids and husbands, our crackpot Governor, music, writing and the neighbors.  With all her limitations and reasons to be bitter, she is not.  She is funny and interesting and dear to many of us.  Our Mary in her wheelchair conjures up all kinds of thoughts, but in her presence I see the grace.

Last week was a year since my cousin’s wife, Carol, died.  At the wedding we went to last week, I spoke with Rhonda’s cousin who’s daughter died last spring.  And if you read this blog……….

http://www.aninchofgray.blogspot.com/

……….you’ll be crying several times a week.  This was probably the saddest Christmas season I can recall since my own dad died.  Too many people on my mind, too many stories of loss, too many people walking the lonely road of grief.  And just what can one do for someone in that situation?

Please tell me if there is an alternative to saying, “I’m keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.”  For God’s sake, Ann Curry says it practically daily on the Today Show.  It’s right up there with “Have a nice day” as far as casually dropped and shallow in meaning statements.

But in the face of overwhelming grief for people we care about, what else of value do we have to offer?

Rhonda’s son got married last weekend and it was lovely.  The new Mr. and Mrs. were all googly-eyed, Rhonda looked like a million bucks, the reception was fun and dancy, and The Big Daddy and I and the fam had a blast.

At the end of the wedding ceremony, the priest said the bride and groom would be seeing all of us shortly at the reception at 146th and Mission Road.  We came home for a spell and when it was time to leave for the party, The Big Daddy announced he knew E.X.A.C.T.L.Y where it was.  He bikes that way all the time.

On the drive there, he pointed out all the biking routes he’s taken.  “Now here I would normally go right and up that hill.  Look at that hill.”  This went on until I said to him that he didn’t have to share every stinkin’ detail to a bunch of non-biking passengers.  Sheesh, how ’bout you create some mystery once in awhile?

At 151st and Mission I told him he’d gone too far.  Nope, he said, it’s here.  Well, why did they say it was at 146th at the church?  I bike here all the time, he says,  So we’ve heard.  For twenty minutes.  Up and down the street we went arguing the entire time.  We turned at 146th and it was a park.  The event space was down yonder from there, but we didn’t figure that out until the second try.

By the time we pulled into the parking lot we pretty much couldn’t stand each other.  Nice wedding reception attitude.  We found a table and he made a beeline to the bar.  A glass of wine later, all was forgotten.

That night as I watched The Brand New Mr. and Mrs., I was tempted to tell those crazy-in-love kids……..Enjoy this night.  It’s absolutely perfect, and from this day forward you’d better buckle your seat belt cuz you’re about to go for a ride.

We recently went to see the fam.  Mallie Bee and I stayed with my mom, Big Daddy and the rest stayed a few miles away at my sister and brother-in-law’s house since neither house is big enough for all of us.

Since we’ve been married we’ve never lived all that close to home so I only see my mom a couple of times a year.  She’s always been entertaining, but especially this time when she was talking about this guy………….

“That guy is such a horse’s ass,” she said one night.

“Oh, he is.  He has no intention of ever marrying any of those babes he dates.  None whatsoever.”

True that, but LOOK. AT. THAT. FACE.  Then we watched Fashion Police because she loves Joan Rivers who’s face is only shown for seconds at a time so as not to scare the bejeezits out of anybody everybody.

From the archives of The Big Daddy Bad Behavior file…………..

Years ago, we used to drive from Maryland to Illinois to spend Christmas with our families.  With little kids, it was a huge job to get them and everything they needed, plus all their Christmas presents, loaded up and into the car for the twelve hour drive.

We would arrive a few days before Christmas, and one or both of us would have to make a trip to the mall to finish up.  One year, The Big Daddy needed to make the trek on Christmas Eve to get a gift for me.  He was gone for hours, to the point where we were getting worried about him.  He finally made it back and went off to a bedroom to wrap his treasure.

And what could be this gift that took hours for him to find?  I couldn’t imagine.

On Christmas morn, when the kids had finished their Santa gifts, he presented my present.  I was full of anticipation, and ripped off the wrapping to discover a Stitchery Kit of Two Deer In The Woods.  Well, that wasn’t what I was anticipating.  Or wanting.

He explained that on the way to the mall, when he was driving by way of the Forest Preserve, he saw two deer in the woods and that’s when it came to him.  That deer live in the woods, I asked.   No, no, he said, that a deer themed gift was a sign.  Too bad the mall wasn’t by way of a diamond mine. 

My mom observed this and without saying a word, got up and went into the kitchen.  When I came in, she said, “I gave him plenty of ideas, even offered to go with him.  Who gets the mother of toddlers a gull damn project to do?”  My Big Daddy, that’s who. 

By then it was 12:00 somewhere and she cracked open the wine and poured us a glass.  Separated by many years, we each had our crosses in life to bear.  Dad, who took NINE YEARS to remodel the kitchen, and me, married to a guy who goes to every store in town on Christmas Eve to find a wildlife kit for his wife to stitch.

Another day.  Another Christmas.  Another star in the crown.

You may remember reading about Ken on my walks with the dog.  Lonely Ken.  Looks for me to talk to Ken.  Married to Barbie.

I saw Ken the other day raking about five leaves in the yard, and he stopped to chat and wish me, my family and my little dog, too, the best Christmas ever.  And a wonderful New Year because I have been so kind to him over the years.  No, I haven’t, Ken.  You’re being delusional.  We talked about our plans for the holidays and all was friendly until he said this……….

Ken, Ken, Ken, that’s a dumbass idea.  And if I were you, I’d be real careful because Barbie’s watching you right now from the window of her dream kitchen, and sharpening the knife she’s going to use to Bobotize your molded plastic Manhood if you don’t stop hitting on chicks walking their dogs.

Merry Christmas.  You’re welcome.  Now I have to find a new route.