How is it you are doing as well as you are??

Someone said that to me today just after I told him about my psychic Aunt. This guy is a co-worker and gets the privilege of listening to all of my stories about the variety of characters that make up my family. Top 2 are definitely my mom and my psychic Aunt. My Aunt has been on the Discovery channel, Unsolved Mysteries, TLC, etc for her psychic detective work. It's a little out there but hey - if she is solving crimes why not?

My mother on the other hand, has taken it upon herself to lob comments at me that will either fluster me, embarrass me or cause those we are with to think "holy shit, did she actually say that out loud?". I am not sure why this happening but I am thankful that those that care for me don't take her comments too personally. After all most people are used to being asked if they have a criminal record and massive amounts of debt right? right? no? During the same conversation my former fiance' was brought up AS WELL AS my x-husband, all to rattle my latest hunk, I am sure. She had it out for him. He rolled with it - but really now! Why would you ask me about "the beautiful watch your x fiance gave you, do you still have that?" during dinner? She knew the answer to this - I am clearly wearing it on my wrist. This is very similar to pulling the pin out of a grenade with your teeth and lobbing it into your neighbors pool party. Prior to this I was complimented in a very old-fashioned and rather romantic way by the aforementioned hunk: "Diane is one of the most amazing women I have ever met" he says. Her response? Are you even ready for it?? "Oh, you are not the only man to ever say that to her, trust me."

GASP! WHAT???!!! I mean that could be a compliment whereby lots of men think I am amazing - that was not the angle she was taking. Trust me. How had my very own mother become the wingman to my x's?? oy vey!

So, back to my subject of "How is it you are doing as well as you are?". Am I? One could ration that I am not doing that well afterall. In fact I have some serious catching up to do. My Aunt is an INTERNATIONAL PSYCHIC DETECTIVE, what am I????! For a week now I have pondered posting things about my own mother. I felt guilty about it until I realized writing and publishing it might just keep her from doing it again! AH HA! I am onto something here! Now if I could take the dinner event mentioned above and toss in some jello shots and pushup contests I would have a family event a little more like this guy: Bad News Hughes.

more to come......

The Space Between My Heart and ...

I have two identities. Two lives almost. Over the past year they cropped up. Both are very much "me" and not some fantasy land I live in, but I cant help but feel the effects of both existing. What I am getting at is the person I have to be when my son is not with me, and the person I am when he is with me. People meet me when I am not with him and say things like "You're a mom?!" which is both a compliment and an insult. I am relieved that I don't look like the stereotypical mother (c'mon you all know what that is) but saddened that I don't have this outwardly maternal presence. Or at least I cover it up. I see babies on tv now and cant change the channel, I am mesmerized by their adorable feety pajamas. I cant bear to watch children in danger in the movies, and I feel sick to my stomach if something happens to a child on the nightly news. Anyway. When my son is not with me my heart hurts, I don't pay attention to people's stories as much and I still cant go in his room without it affecting me somehow. It feels so unnatural to actually BE a mother who is not allowed to BE with her child. It's as though you are talking to someone who as on a wig. You know they are wearing a wig, they know they are wearing a wig but everyone is supposed to pretend like's it actually real hair??

For example. I was in a certain part of the city this weekend, running errands. My son was with his dad. I later found out that I was less than a block away from them at the same time! That even feels weird to type let alone experience. I mean I had NO IDEA I was so close to my little son. "Bumping into" my 2 1/2 year old just doesn't fit my view of parenting. It brings back the horrendous memory I have of sitting in my lawyers office listening to him say, "Diane, you cant control every single moment of your child's life anymore with joint custody. You're gonna have to get used to that". I twisted my hands together and sobbed in the big red leather chair with brass studs. At that moment it was all I could do to actually sign the divorce papers I had been carrying around with me for months. Obviously staying miserably married wasn't an option - I just couldn't believe the price my son and I would have to pay as a result. These are the things I think about when someone is talking to me. Especially if I am really missing my son. So to those of you I do this to I am truly sorry.

See? I can be domestic sometimes.

Confederate Flags, Walmart and Cell Phones

These are all things I have issues with. When I first moved to Atlanta I couldn't believe that this city would even put the Confederate Flag up for a "vote" to re-become the state flag! Daily, an article would appear in the AJC about how much heritage surrounded the rebel flag. Now, as a Yankee I found this SHOCKING. How on earth was this possible? There are actually people living here that think this is a good idea? I would see the Rebel Flag proudly waving in the breeze from the back of a jacked-up truck covered in mud. They also took the form of bumperstickers. How could people want a flag representing their sweet, southern state that signified so much pain for the majority of the Georgia population? Fortunately Georgia was able to come to their senses and went with a less-offensive version.

Next up is WalMart. I WONT shop there. Wont is a very powerful word. It means that I could in fact do something, I just choose not to. Walmart wont do business ethically and seeks to create quite the facade through their advertising that they are in fact, contributing to society. This is accomplished by hiring sweet elderly people to greet me at the door, hiring illegal aliens to work a bazillion hours a week with no benefits and to top it off, buying products offshore that are made by little children with no shoes on their feet. How can one shop there and not feel guilty about feeding the WalMartavore?

Onward to my disdain for Cell Phones. Stop answering them, you are simply not that important. Don't talk on the phone while ordering your meal at a restaurant. Don't call me and then put me on hold simply because your call waiting beeped, you're not that important. If you are a cellphone addict don't go to my gym and chat while you *pretend* to work out. You are clearly not working hard enough if you can chat on the phone! DON'T go to the bathroom at work while talking to YOUR CLIENTS on the phone. Don't ride your bike and talk on the phone, (I cant believe people do that) and lastly please stop disciplining your children while you talk to me, really now you can call me back after taking care of the situation.

Johnny Cash loves me!

I came across this note to a woman named "Diane" at Sun Studios. It reads:

"To Diane, Best Wishes, Johnny Cash"

Elvis and I are now good friends

Boy am I refreshed! A good dose of Memphis ought to fix anyone. Seriously, if you cant have fun there you are an idiot. Blues, Bar-B-Q, Beer and The King of Rock n' Roll. What more could ask for? Aside from a tall dark handsome guy to sing you Elvis songs.

Graceland is surprising. Nestled into the ghetto of Memphis and nowhere near Beale St., it boasts an extensive amount of heart wrenching sentimentality. Fans are shuttled onto the beloved property and allowed to paruse the first floor, basement and grounds *ONLY*. No flash photography (unless by accident, like MOI), no video and dont even think of trying to walk onto the property if you happen to walk by. Aside from these oddities it was very moving. I found myself irritated with Lisa Marie and her complete lack of charisma given who her own father was.

Moving on you have to hit Beale St where you can buy beer from a "walk-up-window" at a bar and then continue on down the road, beer in hand. Blues music is everywhere! I felt like a little kid walking up to a parade thinking "oh let's go here, wait this looks better, let's go here" and ending with "man where do I start!".

Go to Memphis. Stay at the Peabody Hotel. Watch the ducks come off the elevator and dive into the hotel's fountain. Visit Graceland and pay some respect to Sun Studios. Then dance the night away at the Rum Boogie Cafe.