The Day I Kidnapped My Mom

As I mentioned in my blog of August 25th, my mother and I spent two weeks together at Cheryl’s house this passed summer. We went to Mystic Lake Casino just about every day. I love that casino. I win there all the time. Another bright spot Mystic Lake offers is Jeffrey, an attendee who walks around in his red jacket trying to get people to sign up for a players card. He found me one day, and then every day after that. I think Jeffrey, is "warm for my form". I always looked forward to seeing him. It's good for me to sharpen up my flirting skills once in a while.

So anyway, back to the story. After visiting Mystic for 10 days in a row. I thought a change might be nice. I mentioned Treasure Island Casino to my mom, a nice place, about an hour from Cheryl's house. I went there the previous winter, when Cheryl, Colin and my kids were going skiing at Welch. Welch is only about a five-minute drive from Treasure Island, so they dropped me off there on they’re way to the mountain. I won money there on the Monopoly slots. I thought my mom would enjoy it, something different. But Rose is a creature of habit. She does not like change. She had a fit when I mentioned going to Treasure Island. She started yelling about not knowing the lay out, about how she will get lost in there, about how I will get lost driving there, and about how she will lose money because she doesn't know which machines to play. She insisted we go back to Mystic, where she feels comfortable, so she can play the same 10 machines she plays all the time. After all her complaining she went upstairs to transform herself into the typical casino retiree.

Cheryl and Colin hatched up the plan for me to bring her to Treasure Island anyway, once she's in the car she won't have a choice. I agreed to this kidnapping plot, even though I knew I was going to have to endure an hour of mom's swearing.

So mom and I got into Cheryl's brand new 2009 BMW. It didn't take long for mom to figure out what was happening. When we pulled out of Cheryl's housing track, I took a right instead of a left and prepared myself for some serious swearing and complaining.


Mom - Lori where are you going?

Me - Surprise!!!

Mom - OH NO...turn around right now damn it, I am not going all the way to Treasure Island, I mean it, Lori turn the car around.

Me - Come on, it will be fun, we have a brand new BMW, the opened road, tunes on the radio, it will be an adventure...

Mom - I DON'T WANT AN ADVENTURE!!! GOD DAMN IT, Why do you have to torture me? I just want to go to Mystic Lake.

Me - "Blame Colin and Cheryl it was their idea, plus I am having fun whether you want to or not."

I turned up the radio so I couldn't hear her swearing. My mother turned into a spoiled two year old. Still swearing and cursing Cheryl and Colin for their roles in the plot, she stamped her foot on the car floor. She kept slamming herself around in the seat. I was ignoring her, the way you do when you have a child throwing a temper-tantrum in the grocery store. I was singing and dancing to the radio. Swaying back and forth. Every once in a while I would sway just enough to touch her shoulder to try to get her to sway with me. She would yell "STOP IT!!!" and lean herself over to her door so she was out of my reach. Now you have to understand. I grew up watching the techniques of the King of Torture, a.k.a. my dad. I studied and learned a lot from him, but I also have a few techniques in my arsenal as well, after all, if he is the king, I am the princess. So there I was singing and during the best part of a song I would stretch out my arm to my imaginary audience and my hand would be right in front of my moms face. She would whack it away. "Lori you sommonah, cut it out, turn this car around right now!!" I ignored her. Her aggravation grew, now instead of just slamming around in her seat she added the old head scratch trick. The head scratch is exactly what it sounds like. My mom rakes her nails over her scalp 3 or 4 times. This is her ultimate sign of being annoyed. Many many days at the casino, I would witness the head scratch trick. I would be winning on a machine and she would come up behind me and say she wanted to leave. I would politely say, "Mom, I am winning, go play a little longer, then we will go." She wouldn't leave, she would stand behind me, exhaling like a dragon, stamping her foot like a bull about to charge and scratching her head hard enough to draw blood. It would drive me insane, and I would have to leave my winning machine and take her home so she wouldn't miss Judge Judy. Which by the way is DVR'd.

But now I was in control, and she was going to Treasure Island whether she liked it or not. Honestly, what's not to like, its not like I was taking her to a prison camp. The ride is gorgeous, all farm land, rolling hills and gorgeous blue skies. We're in a cool car, with great tunes. What more could you ask for? The answer came to me in a flash...a cigarette, that's the problem, she can't smoke. We had been driving for about 45 minutes she is probably having nicotine withdrawal. So I nicely asked her, "Do you need a cig, is that why you are so miserable?" She blew up at me, "NO I DON'T need a cigarette, what do you think I am a fiend?? When I fly, I go hours at a time without smoking!! I am just miserable because you are making me go to Treasure Island!" She finished with a few head scratches then an elbow slam on the door. "Fine, calm down, we are almost there." And right after I made that comment, the first "Road Closed" sign appeared. Uh oh, now what, the Tom-Tom was telling me to turn down a road that was closed. I grabbed the Tom-Tom while driving and hit "Find Alternate Route". Boy, alternate route, isn't the word. Mom and I were now in the middle of nowhere, no other cars in sight. We were driving on dirt roads, which made me slow down to 20MPH so I wouldn't scratch Cheryl's car. Mom's head scratching began to increase. The Tom-Tom would say turn right, and we would be on paved roads again, then turn right, and back to dirt roads. The one-hour trip had turned into a 2.5 hour trip. I was sure mom's head was bleeding and her elbow was swollen by the time we arrived at the casino. The first thing she did when she hopped out of the car was light a cigarette. I put my arm through hers and started pulling her towards the door. I said, "Aren't you excited, we are here!!" I started my chant, money comes to me quickly and easily, money comes to me quickly and easily... She yanked her arm away, and said, "Oh yeah, I'm thrilled, I could have been at Mystic Lake for hours already, damn bitches!"

I gave mom a brief tour so she would know the layout of the casino. Then I went on my own and won $90.00 on the first machine I sat at. I was so happy, I couldn't lose, I played the Monopoly slots and doubled my money. Only 2 hours went by when I heard the dragon-breathing lady behind me. She wanted to leave!!!! I said, "Mom I am not leaving already, we just drove 2 hours to get here!". She stamped her foot and said, "We are leaving, we need to get home before dark!"

It was no use, either I had to leave or she would follow me to each machine and stand behind me breathing and scratching.

The ride home was only an hour long. I saw a detour sign and followed that, guess I missed that detour sign on the way down!

HERE IT IS...FIND IT...BUY IT...I WILL SIGN IT

Enough About Ghosts, Let's Discuss Something Really Scary...

Like spending 10 days under the same roof with my mother. It wasn't planned but somehow we both ended up at my sister Cheryl's house in Minnesota at the same time. I will be honest, it wasn't easy. We had to watch Judge Judy everyday. My mom would turn into Rain Man at 3:50pm, "Ohhh 10 minutes til Judy." "Where's the clicker? Eight minutes til Judy" She would sit in "her spot", the right side of Cheryl's couch, grab her crossword fill-ins book and her pen out of the drawer, turn the tv to channel 9 and listen to Judge Judy while doing her fill-ins. Whenever Judge Judy yelled at the poor souls standing before her, my mom would say, "I love that Judy, she don't take no shit from anyone!" Ok mom, we heard you the first 17 times! If you wanted to watch Oprah or Ellen, you were banished to the upstairs tv. The upstairs tv is slightly smaller than a movie screen, the couch is only about 5 feet away from it. But that's not the worst part, the worst part the tv is not HD ready so everything is blurry. I was banished to the upstairs tv often, it was a choice between developing a migraine watching the upstairs tv or suffer through my mothers favorite shows which included reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, Sanford and Son and Antique Roadshow. I chose to sacrifice my eyesight and develop migraines.

Living with my mom for those 10 days I realized how stubborn she is. She likes things "her way". For instance, there is a gorgeous casino about 15 minutes away from Cheryl's house. Gambling is something my mom and I have in common. We both love love love slot machines. It's my only guilty pleasure, and I happen to be very lucky at casinos (knock on wood). If I'm in a casino and I am winning, I could stay forever. I never get bored, I have a blast for myself trying all different machines. Money isn't money to me there, it's just this stuff that allows me to play more games. I admit it's a little unhealthy, but I don't do it very often so when I'm on vacation at Cheryl's house it's a special treat I allow myself. Now, mind you, my mother has been at Cheryl's for months before I got there, and has been to the casino a zillion times. So to her it's no big deal to get there. But for me, I am pumped and excited. As soon as my eyes open, I am ready to go. It's all I can do to waste time taking a shower before I can leave for the casino. So here is an example of what I went through every morning at Cheryls.

I would wake up, remember where I was and rush downstairs. My mom was already up. I would get myself a cup of coffee and say, "Mom, I am taking a shower and going to the casino." She'd look at me and say, "Well what are we going to do for dinner?" So typical of her, she's so pre-condition to make sure she has dinner on the table for my dad everyday, it's always her first thought. But absolutely not mine, so I say. "Are you kidding me, it's only 8:00 in the morning, who cares, it's casino time, I'm taking a shower, go get ready!!" I rush through my shower, I even skip a few steps like using conditioner on my hair, why waste time on that? I get out of the shower, put my lotion on, slap on some mascara, throw on the first pair of jeans I find and a red shirt (I always try to wear red to the casino, it's lucky and it wards off the evil eye you get from people when your machine is winning and theirs is not.) Scrunch the hair, spray it and done!! I grab my sneakers run downstairs, I am so excited I turn the corner and freeze. There's my lovely mother, still in her pj's and robe. "What are you doing??? Let's go, why are you still in your robe???" "Well" she says, "I had to get Cheryl her coffee, and I think we will have chicken for dinner..." I interrupt, "WHO CARES!!! I am leaving in 10 minutes, with or without you!" She starts yelling, "Lori don't rush me, damn it, I don't like to get there too early." Trying to remain calm, I start whining, "Mommmm go get readyyyy!!! Come on, I want to go, I love that casinoooo." Finally she goes upstairs, when she comes back down she's all transformed into the typical casino bound retiree. I grabbed Cheryl's BMW keys, and I am headed towards the door. She was not behind me, she was at the sink doing dishes. "MOM...lets go!!" I yell, "Hang on, I have to wash these dishes." There were only 2 coffee cups in the sink. She was stalling. I know her tactics. She has a specific time in that little brain of hers and she does not want to get to the casino a minute before her brain schedule. She was actually washing the coffee cups with Dawn, instead of just putting them in the dishwasher like normal people. Then she even dried the cups. She started wiping down the stove that no one even used yet!!! I yelled again..."I AM GOING!" She yelled back "Hang on, I need to get my gum!" She was rumaging around in the drawer, I saw her gum, it's right on top, she was moving things around like she couldn't find it, all a ploy to waste time. I grabbed a pack of her gum and handed it to her, slammed the drawer and said "Let's go!" "Fine, why are you in such a hurry to lose your money!" she said. I quickly waved my arms around to deflect her negative comment. I am very superstitious, negative words and negative energy will make you lose at the casino. "Mom don't say that!!!" I finally get her in the car and I immediately started chanting my favorite saying I use everytime I am going to a casino. "Money comes to me quickly and easily - Money comes to me quickly and easily - Money comes to me quickly and easily" "Mom say it!!" She was not a believer, and it was too many words for her to remember. So I make her repeat every word after me.

me - Money
Mom - Money
me - Comes
Mom - Comes
me - to me
Mom - to you

I burst out laughing, "Guess I will be the only one who wins today." When we reached the casino, I tried to be the good daughter and stick with my mom. But the fact is, I cannot gamble with my mother around, she is in a constant negative state. She shakes her head no every time the machine spins. "Mom why are you doing that, stop shaking your head no!!!" You are making yourself lose" She yelled at me, "Lori you are so full of shit, you're eyes are brown!" The last straw for me was when I won $40.00 on a machine, she was standing behind me preaching "Take it out, Lori, take that money out before you lose it" She loves the "lose" word. Forget it, Cheryl can be the "good daughter", I went far away from her and it was peaceful except for the chanting in my brain - money comes to me quickly and easily.

Stay tuned for more about my casino trips with mom...

Another Ghostly Encounter...

I made it back from the Adirondack Mountains. I am happy to say, my friendly little ghost did not disappoint me this year. As a matter of fact, he/it, made it perfectly clear, he/it is still around. All statements I am about to write are 100 percent true, I will take a lie detector test, swear on my grandmothers grave, and provide witnesses to all accounts. Read on...

We left for the mountains on a sunny Saturday morning. My car was packed to the gills with suitcases, lawn chairs, blankets, pillows, frisbees, and my trusty fan I bring every year so the gentle humming noise can drown out my moms snoring.

In my car, was me, of course, my daughter Leah, her friend Katie and my black lab, Coal. My sister Cheryl chauffeured my parents, and my son Adam. We met at my parents house at 9:00am. I walk in the door, first thing my dad says to me. "Lori, do not drive over 62 miles an hour." "We are in no hurry, we have all day." I said, "And at that speed, it will take ALLLLLL day." I give Cheryl the "look". One glance and we both knew we would be going 75 mph, or at least whatever speed traffic was moving at. So off we went, happy as could be, Leah, Katie and I, in my Ford Escape, singing to my cds of Neil Diamond, Kelly Clarkson and Maroon Five. Six hours is a long long time without music. I was happy my son brought his I-Pod in my parents car. I was positive no singing was going on in that car.

Along the way, we played the Alphabet car game, and Leah and I filled Katie in about things we do every year in the mountains. Leah said "Mom tell Katie about the ghost." Katie instantly perked up in the back seat she was sharing with Coal, "Yeah, I want to hear all about it." So I, believing she liked ghost stories, tell her everything (see blog from Wednesday, July 21st). We were laughing and joking, I made light of it, I didn't want to freak the poor girl out. She seemed fine and even shared one of her ghost stories with me and Leah. All our chatting made the 6 hours go by fast.

Seeing the "Welcome to Saranac Lake" sign, revives all of us. Leah and I start pointing out familiar landmarks to Katie..."Look there's Mountain Mist Ice Cream, we go there by boat...look, there's the place we rented kayaks last year...look, there's the lake". Finally, we pull up to our beautiful, little, red, haunted cabin number 3. I back my truck in and both carloads pile out to start unloading my car. Once I am unloaded, we start unpacking my parents car, it's like clockwork, we know where everything goes, dads fishing stuff goes out on the screened in porch, moms big sauce kettle goes under the little table by the chair. After so many years it is kind of like home away from home, except for one thing, my home doesn't have a ghost.

Soon my other sisters and their families arrive. Everyone is busy filling empty drawers with their clothes and making up their beds. Except for me, once again, I am stuck out on the couch. The same couch that is directly across from the front door where the ghost's face appeared. I think to myself, "Whatever, I have my dog to protect me". I began to unpack Coal's stuff. His frisbee and balls went to the porch where I could grab them on our way to the beach later. I put his food and water dish right next to the front door. I hung his retractable leash by the handle on a solid, black rod-iron hook next to the front door, above his food.

As everyone finished getting settled we all congragated over my sister Gina's cabin. The men had grilled up hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner. We ate, cleaned up and played a game called Loaded Questions. My nephew, Colin asked me, "So, any ghost sightings yet?" He was half-mocking me. I said, "Nope, but now that it's dark out, I think we should take a walk over to cabin 3 to see if the face is still in the screen door." Everyone was like, "Yeah lets go see!!!" So we all headed over to cabin three. My nephews were making boooo noises, as we walked along the path. "Oh shaddup, my mom said, yous are all crazy, what a bunch of shit!" Which of course made us all laugh. I waited until everyone was safely in the living room and we turned off the first lamp. First lamp - click, "Wait!" I shouted, "we need to turn the outside light on." So I went over and turned the outside light on. Second lamp - click. All of us were facing the door, third and final lamp - click. Gasps could be heard from all over the room. "Yup, still there!!!" My mom, trying to make herself feel better says, "Thats nothing, its just the indents in the screen". My niece Brittany spoke up, "But indents that form a perfect skeletal face, that's freaky. Aunt Lori, I don't know how you are going to sleep in here tonight, but if anything happens you better call me." "Ok Britt, I will, but I doubt anything will happen." I was really torn, I kind of wanted something to happen so I would have proof, but at the same time I was a little scared.

The first night in the mountains usually ends pretty early, everyone is wiped out from the long drive and soon everyone heads off to their own cabins for bed. I got Leah and Katie settled in their room with the bunk beds. Adam went to bed in the room he was sharing with Cheryl. My dad was already asleep in the front bedroom, so it was just me, Cheryl and my mom still up. I made my sad little bed on the couch, I put Coal's dog bed right beneath me, so I could easily reach over and pet him if I needed comfort. I was hoping my mom and Cheryl would stay up long enough for me to fall asleep. But it wasn't long before my mom looked up from her "fill-ins crossword puzzle" and said "Time for bed." Cheryl chipped in, "Yeah, me too I'm exhausted." Trying to sound brave, I said, "Ok, night" inside I was thinking, "NOOOO don't gooooooo!" But they went. There I was, alone in the dark with Coal and the face. I kept telling myself to relax, don't think about it, close your eyes and sleep. Every once in a while I couldn't help myself I had to take a peek at the face just to see if it was still there. Of course it was. I looked down and Coal, he was sleeping peacefully. This gave me courage, if there was a ghost in the cabin Coal would know. I always see that show on Animal Planet about the animals that react to ghosts. However, the vet did instruct me to give Coal four Bendryl every 6 hours for his allergies. Coal was so drugged up, I don't think he would have reacted even if the ghost went up and pulled his tail. That realization took my confidence boost away. Enough is enough, I thought to myself. I am going to sleep, this is silly. I turned my back to the front door and started saying the rosary in my head. The calm, repetitiveness of saying the Hail Mary was comforting and soon I was drifting off to sleep. But before I fully got there, I got this dizzy feeling, I thought a sporatic bout with vertigo was kicking in. Then suddenly this loud crash rang through the cabin. Coal and I jumped a mile, I screamed, "JESUS CHRIST!!!!!!!!!!" and ran as fast as I could to Cheryls room. My mother came running out of her room. All the kids were jumping up out of bed. "What the hell was that??" mom said. "I don't know, I am too scared to find out!!" We all went to the living room and my mom turned on the light. There was Coal's retractable leash laying on the floor. I looked at Cheryl with total fear in my eyes, "Oh my God, there is no way for that leash to come off the hook, unless you lifted it up over the hooky part." Cheryl tried to make me feel better, "No, maybe it wasn't on there all the way." I said, "Then why didn't it fall off when everyone was walking in an out of the cabin door all night, what made it just fall off for no reason!!!" Talk about being freaked out. I found myself shaking, then I looked into the faces of Leah and Katie. They were scared. There was no taking it back, they heard the crash and saw our reactions. I tried to smooth it over, and reassure them the leash wasn't on the hook correctly, even though I didn't believe that for a second. We all took turns trying to calm them and between my mom, Cheryl and I, we finally got the girls back into their bunk beds. Needless to say, I was not happy about having to sleep on that couch. I left one of the lamps on in the living room. Ten minutes later the girls were back in the living room with me. They wanted me to sleep in their room. I was only too happy to obligue them. They both wanted the lower bunk so I had to climb up to the top bunk. Once I got up there, I felt relieved I didn't have a face staring at me. However, I was still afraid, but this time it was only from the height of the bunk bed. That was until I noticed my dog, he was standing in the hall in front of our bedroom, all I could see was his back half. He was looking down the hall and his tail was wagging. No one was up, everyone was in their beds and Coal was looking at "something" down the hall that was making him wag his tail. WHAT THE FREAK?????? I was hoping the girls wouldn't notice. A thought occurred to me, which made me fall asleep instantly. If there is a ghost in this cabin. It has not hurt any of us, and now it is making my dog wag his tail, how bad could it be.

The rest of the week went pretty smoothly. We had to call the owner of the cabin because one of the burners on our stove quit working (or maybe our ghost got tired of smelling my moms cooking). When he came in Cheryl and I took the opportunity to batter him with questions about the ghost. John admitted to hearing a couple other renters with ghost stories about cabin three a while ago. He was going to consult with his mother to get the details. So there you have it. I am not crazy. I am going back to the cabin again next year and I hope the friendly ghost shows up.

Do You Believe?

As I have mentioned in previous posts, every summer my family goes up to the Adirondack Mountains for a relaxing vacation. We leave a week from Saturday, my son has already started packing. It's our favorite time of year. Twin Birches is the name of our camp, it's right on the lake and it's the only campsite with a beach front. There are 3 cabins lined up in a row. The cabins are far enough away to need a flashlight walking from one cabin to the other, but close enough for Gina to be able hear my mom swearing at my dad every morning when he wakes her up.

My kids (Adam and Leah) and I share cabin 3 with my parents and Cheryl. My sister Gina and her family have Cabin 2, and my sister Mary and her family have cabin 1. It's so beautiful up there, the lake, the mountains, the loons, and the ghosts! That's right, I said ghosts. Cabin 3, the one my kids and I stay in is haunted. I know it's hard to believe, don't judge, first hear my TRUE stories, then decide. The first time I saw a ghost was 4 years ago. Cheryl and I shared the last bedroom at the end of the hall. My kids, Adam and Leah have the middle bedroom, and my parent stay in the front bedroom. We always leave the bathroom light on and keep the door cracked a little. This casts a faint glow in the hallway. Sleep comes easy in the mountains. The mountain air gives you a peaceful feeling which makes you relaxed and sleepy. After a day filled with swimming, fishing, and serious euchre playing, you welcome bedtime. This particular night, I was sleeping peacefully, when I had a feeling someone was staring at me. I opened my eyes and saw Leah standing in my bedroom door, she was wearing a long white shirt. She looked right at me, turned and walked in the direction of her bedroom. I figured she got up to go to the bathroom and was just checking on me. I fell back to sleep. The next morning I was up early and out fishing with my dad. When we got back, everyone was gathered outside Mary Beth's cabin enjoying bagels for breakfast. My daughter Leah was sitting in a chair, and I said, "Hi LeeLee, did you already change out of your pajamas." She said "No, I am still in my pajamas." This was impossible, I saw her last night wearing a white shirt, and now she had on a red shirt. I said, "Did you change last night, because I saw you when you got up to go to the bathroom and you had a white t-shirt on." She said, "Mom, I didn't change and I didn't get up to go to the bathroom." My head started spinning, I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what I really saw. I know I saw her, or someone who resembled her. I was not dreaming, my eyes were opened and I remember adjusting my pillows after she went away. I was more than a little freaked out. I didn't tell anyone because it was hard for me to believe, and I know my family would just tell me I was crazy, so I just tried to forget about it and chalked it up to an over-active imagination.

The second encounter happened 3 years ago. It was the middle of the night, I had to go to the bathroom. When I reached the hallway, I saw my daughter Leah standing there. I jumped back, my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it. Her hand was in a fist and she was attempting to knock on the wood paneled wall. There was something eerie about the way Leah looked. I thought she must be sleep walking, (something she has never done in her whole life). I carefully went up to her and softly said "Leah". Her head snapped and she looked at me. Which scared the shit out of me again. I said, "What are you doing?" Leah wasn't quite sure herself, she still looked a little foggy. She said "I was sleeping and someone told me to get up, go in the hallway and knock on the wall." I got chills up and down my spine. I didn't want to hear anymore, I was so scared she was going to tell me it was a little girl. I tucked her back into bed. Needless to say, I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

Now for the third and most convincing encounter. This time it wasn't just me who experienced the ghost(s), I had other witnesses. Two years ago, my nephew Colin (Mary Beth's son) wanted to do a little cabin swapping. He wanted to stay in our cabin, with my parents, Cheryl, me and my kids. We were happy to have him, but we were out of beds. So I volunteered to sleep on the couch in our living room. I was usually the first one up with my dad to go fishing anyway so I didn't mind. Once again I contributed the creepy past experiences to an over-active imagination, and put them out of my mind. Colin said, "Are you sure you want to sleep out here, the door freaks me out, what if you look at the door and see someone standing in the window?" I'm like, "Thanks a lot for the image, but I will be fine." I was fine for the most part, but every night when I got up to take my usual 2:00am pee, I had to look at that dang window in the door, just to make sure no one was staring at me - thanks to Colin. We had bad weather that year, my mother kept a rosary hanging on our doorknob the whole week. On the last night of our trip, she removed the rosary and put it in her purse. This was the night of the "encounter". I will never forget this night, I swear on my sweet, old, Italian Grandma Sarah's grave these are the actual events I experienced.

Like I said, it was our last night there. We all packed up as much as we could to make the next morning less hectic. We all had the end of vacation blues and went to bed pretty early. I was sleeping on the couch, like I did every night of the trip. I woke up feeling very groggy and uncomfortable at about 1:00am. I was still very sleepy, trying to rearrange my blanket and pillows. I turned to sleep on my side, which meant I was facing the door. I slightly opened my eyes, and looked at the window in the door, I saw these pretty orangish-yellow balls outside the window. How this did not jolt me out of my slumber, I have no idea. I remember shutting my eyes thinking how pretty the colors were, I must be dreaming. I struggled to open my heavy eyes again, just to check to see if the balls were still there, not only were the balls still there, but they had clearly become the eyes to a face that now appeared in the window. It looked like someone who had their nose pressed up against the window and were sliding down, making their nose smush up like a pig's nose. I told myself, your dreaming. I closed my eyes again, finally my brain started to register, I told myself, wake up...wake up and check the window again. I slowly opened my eyes again, this time the "glowing eyes" were gone and the face had changed. It was no longer had a pig nosed face, it was without a doubt the face of a skeletal ghost. The head came to such an angle that it appeared the ghost's body was standing on the side of the door, and it leaned its head over to peer in the window. This finally jolted me to total consciousness. I was frozen, I couldn't move. I looked away from the door several times, hoping when I looked back it would be gone. No such luck. I was freaking out. I got the courage to lean over and turn on the lamp. The light made the image in the window disappear. I turned the lamp off again, the face was still there. THAT WAS IT...I turned the light back on and ran into Cheryl and Colin's room. I said, "Cheryl you have to get up, I am freaked out. Wake up!!! Colin, get up come and look in the living room, I am really scared." They both slowly scramble out of bed. Their eyes half-shut. Cheryl comes in the living room, she is standing all hunched over like she's freezing, I had to laugh at her appearance. "What is it? What is your problem?" I walked over to the lamp and turned the light off, and said "Look at the door". Colin saw it right away, he said "What...oh, that face?". Cheryl was so shocked, "Oh my God, oh my God...what happened?? How did it get there!!!" I told them the whole story, I added there was no way I was going to sleep out there alone anymore. Cheryl said "I will get my blanket and stay on the little couch out here with you." Colin said, "You're not leaving me in that back bedroom all by myself!!!!" They kept getting up to look at the window, they would sit back down really fast. "Oh my God!!!!" was the phrase of the night we said at least 100 times. We tried to take a picture of it, but it didn't come out on the digital camera. In all out commotion, my mom, Rose-bud came out of her bedroom. "What's all this noise about, what is going on!!" I said "Mom look at the door." She glanced real fast "You're crazy! You're all full of shit, I'm going back to bed," She looked at the door again. "Oh that's nothing, go back to bed." I said, "Why don't you sleep out here if it's nothing!!!" Walking back to her room she said "No way!" I hear my dad in the bedroom, "Whats going on?" Mom said, "Oh they think they see a face in the door, they're all crazy!!" My poor son Adam comes out of his room holding a pillow up to the side of this face, blocking his view of the door. He had no intention of seeing the ghost. He asked "Is there really a face?" Cheryl answered, "Yes Adam don't look because you won't ever want to come here again." I wanted to get out of that room. I tucked Adam back in bed, went back into the scary living room and asked "What are we going to do, I don't want to sleep out here alone anymore." Cheryl suggested I sleep in the room with her and Colin. We had to share the twin bed. Cheryl gets in the bed and goes way over to the wall, she is so little I had plenty of room. I slept the opposite way with my head down at the end of the bed. Suddenly, at the same time Cheryl and I both bolted up and yelled "WHAT WAS THAT?" We both heard weird voices. Colin tried to make us and himself feel better by telling us it was the lake. We disagreed with him. We laid back down trying to sleep. I was saying the rosary in my head, when I started to get this killer toothache. My tooth just started hurting out of the blue. I thought, good thing we are leaving tomorrow, I can't wait to get out of this cabin and I have to get this tooth checked out. At the same time, Cheryl got a sharp cramp in her leg, it felt like someone was squeezing her lower leg muscle. Neither one of us said a word about our pain until the next morning. Cheryl mentioned her leg to me, and I told her about my toothache and how it disappeared as fast as it came. Coincidence - I think not! This was too unbelievable not to share with everyone. We told Gina's family and Mary's family. They quickly came over to our cabin and were checking out the screen door. My dad said it was the reflection off the garbage can lid---NOT! All the men were laughing at us, telling us we were crazy, its just the dents in the screen door. Ok, how many "dents" in a screen door look exactly like a skeletal face. Plus, I checked that window every night when I got up to go to the bathroom, the face only appeared on the very last night, after the rosary had been removed. I know what I saw that night. I know it was real.

The following year, I have to admit I was a little scared, but mostly excited to go back to the cabin to see if the ghost would still be there. We arrived at the cottages about 2:00pm. Everyone was scrambling to get unpacked. I told everyone to meet in cabin 3 as soon as it gets dark. I wanted to turn off all the lights in our cottage to see if the ghost face was still imprinted on our window. At about 9:30pm everyone was gathered in our living room, (aka known as my sleeping quarters), we turned off all the lights, and gasps could be heard all around the room. The face was still there, looking as scary as it did a year ago. I was so happy they could all experience it I shouted, "SEE, how would you like to get up in the middle of the night with that thing staring at you!!!" The men all said the same thing, "its just the dents in the screen". Whatever - think what you want. I know it was real. My niece Brittany and her friend Colleen believed. They were on "text alert". If I saw anything I was to text them immediately so they could run over and see it too.

Going back to sleep on the couch again, was a little terrifying the first night. I pleaded with the ghosts, leave me alone, don't hurt me, don't freak me out, I will be out of here in a week. I felt a little better because I brought my dog, Coal, with us this time and he was sleeping with me in the living room. Still, I didn't sleep well at all. I kept looking at the window, the face staring back at me. I finally fell asleep and had an uneventful and peaceful nights sleep. My pleading had worked, my confidence grew, and the face didn't seem so scary anymore. Until, Thursday night. I was sound asleep, when I heard my name called clear as a bell. "LORRRI" it was a voice I never heard before. It was so compelling I actually answered it, out loud, "What?". This immediately bolted me from a sound sleep. I have never ever ever talked in my sleep. Here I was, hearing myself answer back. Coal heard it too he lifted his head. I looked at the face. it appeared fuller, clearer, scarier. I ran to get Cheryl..."LOOK AT THE FACE, it called my name!!!!!!!!!" She came out, she was no help this time she said it looked the same to her, I was probably dreaming. Thanks a lot!! I know I wasn't dreaming. I know there is something paranormal going on in the cabin. You may think I am crazy but I am more intrigued by it every year. It hasn't hurt anyone. It just wants to be heard and verified. We leave for the mountains in 7 days. I will keep you updated on any ghost events that may happen this year.

This Explains Everything...

When I was about 4 or 5, my sister's Mary Beth and Gina dropped me on my head. Gina was 9 and Mary Beth was 10. Now I know why my brain is the way it is. My mom was working nights at Lestercoat, my two older sister's, Chery and Charlene were at color guard practice. Gina, Mary Beth and I were home with my darling Dad. It was a stormy night with down-pouring rain, howling wind, constant thunder and lightening strikes. My sisters and I were scared of thunder and lightening, mostly due to the nuns at Holy Ghost. Sister Alphonsa saw her younger sister get struck by lightening, if there was a storm during school, Sister Alphonsa wearing her full nun habit would walk the halls saying the rosary. The image was a scene right out of a horror movie. Being afraid of storms is just one of the many things I can blame on attending a Catholic school. More of that in later blogs.

The storm had us all huddled on the couch near my dad. He tells us he has to leave to pick up Cheryl and Charlene from practice. He told my sisters to watch me and stay in the house. My sisters protested because of the storm, they didn't want to stay home alone. Dad insisted, the school is close, he would be back in 10 minutes. As soon as my dad left Mary Beth (who was always a scardie cat) decided it's too scary to remain home. She convinced Gina they should go over to Aunt Kay and Uncle Dick's house where it would be safe. Gina didn't want to because Dad said "do not leave the house" and when dad spoke...you listened. Mary didn't care, she was more scared of the storm than of my father's wrath. So they bundled up and decided to carry me. They lifted me up together, each with one leg, and attempted to walk across my dad's driveway. This was not a paved driveway. Our driveway was filled with stones and potholes, (the potholes produced the best spots to make mud-pies). Still the driveway was a dangerous place. I tripped and slid and wiped out on this driveway zillions of times when I was little, I've got the scars to prove it.

So, Mary and Gina were trying to carry me over the rugged sharp rocks that was our driveway, while the rain and wind pounded on us. I am not sure who it was, but one of them stumbled on a rock and lost control of me, down I went. My head was the first to hit the driveway. They cracked my head a little, enough to draw blood. I started crying. Now they were in double trouble, one for disobeying and leaving the house and second because I got hurt in the process of disobeying. I don't remember ever getting to Aunt Kay's house, either they aborted the plan once they dropped me or the shock from my injury blocked the memory. All I remember is how mad my dad was when he got home. He was yelling at them and when my dad yelled, it would send chills up your spine. He is usually so easy-going, it was unusual for him to get mad to the point of yelling. My mother on the other hand would yell at us constantly, it never phased us. She used to threaten to hit us with wooden spoons. She never did, we had drawers filled with broken wooden spoons from her banging them on the table. We were immune to hearing her, but dad was a different story. When he yelled you knew it was serious. He told Mary and Gina to get upstairs. They huddled together in Mary's bed. They heard my dad coming up the stairs, they squeezed each other tighter, fearing a spanking was coming. Instead my dad came in and leaned over both of them. With his hands on either side of them, he started bouncing them on the bed. They bounced on every syllable of every word. "I (bounce) told (bounce) you(bounce) not(bounce) to (bounce)leave (bounce)the (bounce) house. (bounce)(bounce) You (bounce)do (bounce)what (bounce)I (bounce)tell (bounce)you (bounce)under(bounce)stand(bounce)(bounce)!!! After he left, Gina and Mary were giggling, that was the best punishment ever!!! I went downstairs and told my dad I wanted the "bounce" punishment too.

I'm Back

I had an interesting week. Mr. Clean (aka Uncle Dick) called me a couple days ago. He wanted to know if I had his weed killer bottle at my house. See, his twin (aka my dad) had borrowed it months ago and never returned it. Uncle Dick wanted to know if maybe my dad brought it over here to kill my weeds. First, I was surprised to even hear my dad cared enough to kill any weeds, whether at my house or his. Second, I was sure I didn't have his weed killer bottle here. I offered Uncle Dick my bottle of weed killer I just bought at Home Depot, but he didn't want that one. He wanted his fancy bottle, that attaches to the end of the hose. He said he searched my parents garage and didn't find it anywhere. The thought of my poor, spotless Uncle Dick rummaging around in my parents borderline hoarder-house looking garage scared me. Don't get me wrong, my parents garage is not that messy to the normal viewer. But when you are there to transform the garage from the winter garage to the summer garage, you see the mounds of junk my dad hoards. He is really good at hiding it. He hides his junk in these leftover cupboards he hung on the wall from our old kitchen. I made the mistake of opening the cupboard door while helping my dad clean the garage, and I swear I saw something slither away. The stuff in the cupboard included old broken hose nozzles, chipped planters still filled with dry dirt, oil cans, wires, old fishing reels, car washing soap and wax from 1982...etc. I begged my dad to let me throw some of this stuff out. I have never seen my dad wash a car ever in my life, but still, he wouldn't let me throw it out. I picked up a lone lid, to whatever, my dad didn't know, but he insisted on keeping it. Then he has this metal shelving unit stuffed with junk. He hung an old ratty curtain over it to hide his hoarding treasures. On these shelves I found this hangy thing made out of sea shells, it once hung in our house, it was ugly then and it is even uglier now that its been in the garage for years collecting dirt and dust. There was also this stuffed flower with a smiley face, it's gross, probably has gnats living in it, do you think he would let me throw that thing out....nope. He said and I quote, "When you bury me, you can throw out anything you want." Which, worked because then I felt guilty. I just know someday I will have that ugly, bug infested stuffed flower hanging in my house because of my dad. I will make Gina take the ugly seashell hangy thing.
Back to poor Uncle Dick, he was telling me how he can't believe my dad would lose this bottle, and he said he was going to make my dad buy him a new one. I was thinking, wow this thing has to be really expensive, it attaches to a hose and everything. I was ready to call Cheryl, she's our "Bank of America" when we have to buy expensive things in an emergency. Then Uncle Dick says, "That's right for once I am going to make him replace what he lost and that bottle was $19.00!" Guess I won't be needing Cheryl.

After hanging up with Uncle Dick, I called Minnesota where my parents are spending the summer. My mom answered. I told her the story about dad losing Uncle Dick's weed killer bottle. Mom started "Lori...let me tell you about your father, he's an asshole, ok? Since we have been here at Cheryls, whats it been a month? He has lost two fishing poles and a pair of Cheryl's sunglasses. Yesterday he came home from fishing and told me his prescription glasses fell into the lake, but the string was still around his neck, so I asked him, how the hell did they come off if you still have the string around your neck? Your father said they just slipped out of the string. So now we have to pay 187.00 to get new ones, but your father doesn't want to pay"....this is where I begin to tune her out, she goes on and on and on...finally I interrupt her and say "Do you realize you have been talking non-stop for 7 minutes, I haven't said a word in 7 minutes!!!!" "Can you please ask Dad if he knows where Uncle Dick's weed killer bottle went" Mom answers in one word "Fine"
When my dad got home from fishing my mom relayed the story to him, (probably a much longer version). Dad called Uncle Dick and told him he left the bottle in either his garage or my Uncle Dicks garage. BIG HELP!

Uncle Dick's garage is spotless, if the bottle was in his garage he would definitely know. So poor Uncle Dick headed back to the hoarders garage and you will be very relieved to hear Uncle Dick finally did find his weed killer bottle in my dad's garage in another hoarding spot by the front door.

Even though my parents garage is far from spotless, it is the place everyone comes on warm summer nights. Like every Italian family out there, my parents transform their garage into a living room in the summer time, complete with custom made screens, mom's old furniture set and rugs. I use the word "rugs" loosely, it's more like remnants. Used remnants that have been torn from rooms my dad tiled. He also took my old oval kitchen rug which lays on top of the remnants. They have a few old welcome mats thrown around on top of other remnants. I am not sure why? We are all constantly tripping on these little rugs with the curled up edges. THROW THEM OUT!!!! But honestly, the garage is so fun. We all hang there, my Aunt Kay and Uncle Dick come over in their jammies. We talk and laugh. But we can't see anyone because my mom makes us sit with the lights off. My mom is a freak when it comes to mosquitos. God forbid you try to leave. You can barely get out the door without her yelling "CLOSE THE DOOR!! You're letting all the mosquitos in!". Can you feel the love?

Mom's Sabotage

I have to write today about my mom and her sabotage. She is going to yell at me again for throwing her under the bus. But, I am only speaking the truth. She should be happy and consider my blog free therapy. I am making her a better person by holding a mirror in front of her beautiful face. (see, I can be nice)...

After 44 years I have finally figured out why I cannot duplicate my mother's recipes. The realization came just 2 days ago when I called her and asked her how to make her delicious greens and beans. Here's the transcript of our phone call.

Mom - Hello?

Lori - Hi Mom, I bought everything I need to make your greens and beans with sausage, so can you tell me how to do it.

Mom - It's simple all you do is put the greens in the frying pan...

Lori - WHAT? Aren't I supposed to boil them first?

Mom - Oh, yeah you can, I do when I am making them

Lori - Well don't you think that's an important part to leave out? OK fine so I boil them for how long?

Mom - only about 5 minutes, then drain them really good. GENE...YOU DO THAT AGAIN AND I'M GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!!!

Lori - what's he doing...?

Mom - I am leaning over Cheryl's kitchen island and he keeps putting his hand up my duster. (mom and her dusters, her dusters are these little summer dresses she buys at flee markets) MY KNEE ISN'T UP THAT HIGH AND IT'S ON THE OTHER SIDE!!! YOU DUMB SOMMMANAH BITCH!! Your father told me he was trying to touch my knee, well my knee is facing the other way. I'm gonna kill him!

Lori - Kill him later, so I drain the greens really good then what?

Mom - put them in the sausage then add the beans and the bean juice

Lori - What about garlic? Yours has a ton of garlic in it

Mom - Oh yeah put garlic in it

Lori - when do I put the garlic in, you have to tell me all the directions, I never made these before!!!

Mom - You put garlic in the pan first!!!

Lori - Well you never even mentioned the garlic, and it goes first!!! I think you are a little threatened that I might make these better than you, so you are sabotaging the recipe

Mom - (laughing, but trying to hide it from me)...NO I'M NOT....I figured you would know to put in garlic!!!

Lori - Well I don't know...you have to tell me!!! So I fry up garlic..then add the scrambled sausage and the beans

Mom - NO!! Don't put the beans in before the greens, put the garlic, then the sausage, then the greens, THEN the beans, then your done.

Lori - WHAT??? I'm done...wheres all the juice, yours has juice in it, cuz I use bread to dunk

Mom - Oh, I sometimes put in a little chicken broth

Lori - OHHHHHHHH, another ingredient you so "innocently" forgot to tell me about!!! You are sabotaging my greens and beans, you are scared I might cook as good as you!!!

Mom - (laughing so hard she can't even speak) NO I'm NOT!!! (still laughing)

Lori - I think you are, I had to PULL the ingredients out of you, is there anything else you are not telling me about making the greens and beans????

Mom - (still laughing) NO! YOU PAIN IN THE ASS!!

Lori - Fine, I will see how they taste after I make them!!!

So there you have it, proof she is trying to sabotage my cooking abilities. This is not the first time either. This phone conversation sparked my memory of the time I asked her how to make her artichokes. She gave me most of the recipe but "forgot" to tell me to put a little splash of oil over each artichoke once they're stuffed. And she "forgot" to mention that I am supposed to baste the artichokes while they are cooking. So my artichokes came out with dry stuffing and I just about gagged trying to eat them. Once I got the full instructions, my artichokes could win a cooking contest. Even my dad likes mine better than my moms!! Take that!! Rosie the Sabotager!!!

Shhhh...Qwuiet, I'm Hunting Whrabbits!

Hunting is another passion of my Dad's. He used to hunt small game, rabbits, squirrel and deer. Yes, like the Beverly Hillbillies, we ate rabbits, squirrel and venison growing up. As far as I'm concerned this was child abuse. If I had known they were making me eat rodents, I would have called 911.

Getting back on topic, I can remember the excitement in November when hunting season started. My dad would be out in the back yard for hours shooting his bow. He stacked up a few bales of hay, and attached a white and red target to the front. He looked so cool in the hunters "stance". He stood sideways, pulled back the string of the bow, as far as he could. His 3 middle fingers tips rested on the corner of his lip, his left eye closed, he lined the arrow up until it was perfectly aimed at the bullseye. He was so good, he would hit it almost every time. I remember my sisters and I standing behind him until he shot all 4 or 5 of his arrows. He would let us pull the arrows out of the haystack and return them to him. We ran back and forth for hours. Now that I think about it, he had it made, all he had to do was stand there, and we would run like little slaves for him. Honestly, we didn't mind a bit, we loved it.

Saturday and Sunday mornings of hunting season, my dad would get up before the sun. He would make his breakfast of coffee and cereal. After breakfast, he would start preparing for the hunt. He would fill his thermos with the left over coffee, put some oreos or chocolate chip cookies in a baggy for his snack/coffee break he would enjoy later in his tree stand. Once his little knapsack was all set, he would start the ritual of transforming himself into Rambo. Dad dressed in layers. First, extra large long-johns, also known as thermal underwear. They were so big on him, the crotch hung down to his knees. Dad tucked all the extra length material into knee-high wool socks. Next came the big camouflage one piece suit. This suit, also way too big for him, just swallowed him up, but he was warm and cozy with lots of room to groove. Then came the camouflaging of his face. He had this huge cork board, he would rip off a hunk of cork and heat it over our stove's flame. Once it turned black, he rubbed it on his face, in parallel little lines. He looked like an Indian getting ready for battle. Finally, he would sling the bow over his shoulder and around his little body and off he went.
We used to watch out the window for his van. If we saw his van backing in, we started yelling and cheering like little Indian squaws. Backing in meant a dead deer was in the van. We rushed to find our shoes and coats so we could go see it. Even though they were dead, I used to think of them as my new pets. I would go to school and brag to my friends. "My dad got a deer yesterday, it's hanging upside down in my garage. I named it Bambi." Man, was I warped. It would hang in the garage for a few days, then off to the slaughter man. Dad had two deer heads stuffed and now they hang in my dads "man cave", also known as the back room. He was a great hunter.

I used to love when my dad went hunting for rabbit and squirrel. Once in a while he would bring me to his favorite rabbit hunting spot. Just me and him in a really fun wooded area with large rocks to climb on. He would head towards the woods, and tell me to stay and play on the rocks. I know...leaving a child unattended is not good, but it was the 70's and it was my dad. He would check on my once in a while, especially if I was making too much noise. He would come over and say, "Lori, stop yelling, you're scaring away the rabbits." I would explain, "oh, sorry dad, I was playing alligator."

Alligator was one of my favorite games. The rules are, jump from rock to rock without falling on the grass, if you fell in the grass you got eaten by the alligtors. (This game also worked in my moms living room, we would throw her couch pillows on the floor for our rocks). So there I was, a perfect little girl, playing alligator while my dad was hunting for our dinner. He is my hero. He can do no wrong...right?

Think again - just imagine my horror when I grew up and realized Dad's favorite rabbit hunting spot was actually the Churchville cementary, and the rocks I was so happily playing "Alligator" on were dead people's tombstones!!!!!!!!

No wonder I am warped!

My Dad's Family Tree -

My dad's father was also his uncle. So now you know how he got that "weird streak".

I will try to explain this, but even I am confused by it. Here it goes..

My Great Grandmother Elizabeth, married a man with the last name Cataldi. She was only 12 years old on her wedding day. (I know, sounds sick doesn't it, but you have to remember this was back in the 1800's). They had 3 sons, Fred, Ted, Frank and one daughter they named Mary, this is my grandmother. I have met Uncle Ted and Uncle Frank many times. But I never got to meet my Uncle Fred. He was killed as a POW in World War II.

Great Grandpa Cataldi died, not sure when or how. A few years after his death, my Great Grandmother Elizabeth remarried a man with the last name Giraulo. He had 3 sons from his previous marriage. Their names were Reed, Flo, and Earl. Everyone loved Uncle Earl, he was so gentle and loving. He used to make rosaries every day. He could fix, build or mend anything. He lived as a pauper in only one room of my great grandmother’s old house. He never bought anything new. He would visit the dumps on a daily basis to see what he could take home and restore. He died with $250,000 in his bank account. He willed this money to all of his brother’s children. I believe he was a saint.

So my Great Grandmother Elizabeth is now a Giraulo. The Giraulo she married had 12 brothers. (I believe no sisters) One of his younger brothers named Floavanti, married Mary Cataldi (my grandmother). So Floavanti Giraulo, married his step-niece Mary. They had 4 beautiful children, Aunt Doll, the twins, Uncle Dick and my dad, Gene and Uncle Ted. That is how my dad’s father is also his Uncle. Step-Uncle that is…but I like to say just uncle so it freaks people out!

the sweetness continues...

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My Parents - Not Good in a Crisis

I love my parents and feel blessed to have them. But if I am ever hurt, or need help, they are the last people I call. Why? It's simple, they are freaks when it comes to their children being hurt. My mother cannot handle it, you know the saying "fight or flight" well, my mom chooses flight. My niece, Brittany, choked on a Fruit Roll-Up at my moms house. My mom flew from the room. My sister, Gina, calmly walked over, gave Britt the Heimlich. She barfed up the fruit roll up on the first thrust. My mom was still in her bedroom when it was all over. So if you ever choke alone in a room with my mom, you're screwed.

My father, on the other hand, will help his kids, but once the crisis is over he flies into a rage. It doesn't even have to be a crisis...it can be as simple as a bump on the head, this was enough to make him fly off the handle. How dare something hurt his child! He's been known to punch objects or even himself --remember the "weird mode" yeah, this is part of it.

When I was 5 years old, I slammed my thumb in the screen door. I started wailing, holding my poor little thumb up in the air. My dad came out to save me. My mom followed far behind him. "What happened" he asked. Still sobbing I said, "I was coming in the house, the wind blew the door shut on my thumb". That was it, my father started swearing under his breath, he was so mad he punched the screen door. This haulted my crying in mid-wail. He went outside, kicking at the ground like a manic. Still in a rage, he lashed out at the nearest thing, which was my beloved swing set with the big orange flowers. In one big shove, Dad tipped my swing set over and it smashed to the ground. This brought back the flood of tears, "WHY IS DADDY HURTING MY SWING SET!!!" I yelled to my mom. She was only too happy to answer "Because he's an asshole, that's why!" Mom fixed my thumb with Vicks Vapor Rub...heheheheeeee just kidding.

A few years ago I was going through a divorce. I guess the changes and uncertainty of everything got to me, and for the first time in my life I started having panic attacks. These things are scary, you actually feel like you're dieing. My heart felt like it was going to pound right out of my chest, my arms would go numb, my tongue would feel like it was swelling...just horrible to go through. My attacks would happen mostly at night, sometimes waking me up from a sound sleep. During one of my episodes, I called my mom. I needed to hear some calming words, some reassurance that I was fine. Hear's how the conversation went.

Me - "Mom, I'm having a panic attack, I think I'm having a heart attack.

Mom - "NO you're not...YOU'RE FINE. I'm telling you, damn it...my life...I'm ready to take the bridge, there's always something I have to worry about... where's the kids...just go to sleep Lori, you're fine...Jeeeeesus Christ...I'm telling you...it's always something... do you want your father to come over...or you can come here...damn it...are the kids sleeping...unbelieveable I have to go thru this...the doctor said you're fine...

Believe it or not, this worked. She calmed me down. This is my mom, she cares about everyone and worries about everyone, but she has to complain about it, it's all just words, she would die for any one of us. We all know this of her. If she was sweet and compassionate, my panic would have escalated, I would have thought something was wrong and I really was dieing. My mom calmed me down by being "my mom".

But let the record show, I never called her again. I started calling my poor sister Mary Beth. Mary Beth works in the nurses office at the school, so she's more medical. Eventually the panic stopped, and now everyone gets a good nights sleep.

More about Mom

Mom loves clothes. She buys most of her clothes from QVC. Her signature look is any shirt with rhinestones or glitter on it, the shinier the better. Her pants are always the stretchy kind. I have never seen her wear pants with a button or a zipper. She likes the feel and freedom of stretchy pants, in this way she is like my dad...comfort first! Wearing these types pants can be dangerous, especially with my dad around. I have seen my mom's underwear more times than I care to remember, mostly because my dad yanks the stretchy pants when she walks by him, giving us all a little peek at her whitey-tightys, or I should say her loosey-goosey, grandma size underwear.

There was one time when we all got a full view...and it wasn't pretty! We were all over my parents house for our weekly Sunday dinner. All my brother-in-laws, Bob, Ted and Dick were sitting at the table with my sisters and my dad. My mom was standing by the table holding my son, Adam. The rest of the grand kids were running around playing. Mary Beth's son Brandon, who was 8 years old at the time, decided it would be fun to "pants" Grandma. He came up behind her and yanked her stretchy pants right down to her ankles. Mom couldn't do anything, she was just standing there shocked and helpless in her large white granny underwear. We all lost it, we were laughing hysterically, Bob was yelling "MY EYES, MY EYES". My brother-in-laws couldn't turn their heads fast enough, you could hear their hands slapping down over their eyes to block out the sight. My dad was yelling "WOOOHOOOOOO!" (of course). I was laughing so hard, it never occurred to me to take Adam from my mom until she started yelling "LORI TAKE ADAM, JESUS CHRIST DON'T JUST STAND THERE!!!" She finally pulled her pants back up, but by then damage was done. My brother-in-law Dick, couldn't take the flashbacks, he had to leave, he got up and walked home, thankfully he lives right next door.

We were just reminiscing about that night with Brandon, who is now 23 years old. His face was turning red just thinking about the memory, he's like "What was I thinking, why on earth did I do that!!" I don't know why he did it, but it was one of the funniest things ever, I am really happy he did...kinda!!!

The grand kids love to pick on my mom. The more she swears at them, the happier they are. They find all different ways to bother her. I think all the years watching my dad has rubbed off on them. Gina's son EJ, paid very close attention to dad's work. He performs the "squeeze attack" perfectly. He goes up behind my mom and hugs her until she can't breathe. He also has the "hair pull technique" down, he will give her stiff, hairsprayed hair a little yank, just enough so she starts swearing "OUCH YOU SOMMANAH..."

A few years ago my dad and the kids hatched up a perfect plan to harass my mom. Boy, did this plan backfire. We were on our annual family vacation to Lake Flower in the Adirondack Mountains. We rent the best cabins on the lake. They are not fancy by any means, but they are clean and come with a beach front where we all like to hang out. Each family has their own cabin which are nicely lined up in a row. One morning my dad went over to my sister Gina's cabin. Everyone was there enjoying Gina's coffee. The kids who ranged in ages between 8 thru 11 were just finishing up breakfast. My dad told the kids, Brandon, Colin, EJ and Brittany to run over to his cabin and jump on Grandma's bed. Afterall, the "king" was already up, she should be getting his coffee. The kids were only too happy to oblique, this was a perfect opportunity to hear some swearing. The kids run into my parents cabin and burst into my moms bedroom just as she is lifting her nightgown off over her head. There she was, standing there bare as the day she was born. The poor kids were so shocked and startled, they ran from the room and out the door screaming "EWWWWWWWWWWWWW GRANDMAS NAKED...OH MY GOD GRANDMA'S NUDE!!! We could hear them screaming outside. The kids burst into Gina's cabin yelling and laughing...they could not get the words out fast enough..."we burst in the room and she was nude...ewwwwwww!! My nephew Colin who was only 9 years old said "I'll never be the same!!" My mom came over, fully dressed "Gene you asshole, did you tell those kids to come and get me!!!" before dad could answer, mom yelled "GOOD that will teach them to come over to bother me!!!"

My Mom

Even though I am a full fledged daddy's girl. I do love my mom. She is just as whacky as my dad, she has a weird side too. She loves to swear but never uses the "f-word". Well, maybe once it a while it slips out, but it's always in the abbreviated form - "f'n". For example, "You're f'n father is driving me nuts."
Swear words have been flying out of her mouth for as long as I can remember. Matter of fact, when I was two years old, one of Charlene's friends asked me my name, and I told her "Sommanah bitch".

Somehow swearing works for my mom. She never sounds mean or scary, it's part of her every day vocabulary and it really cracks up the grand kids. You would think all our kids would be dropping f-bombs or calling people assholes since they have been hearing those words since birth. Once in a while they did. We would explain those were "big people" words and they are not allowed to say them until they are 18 years old. It worked.

My mom is, in some ways, the typical Italian mother. She loves to cook, but not as much as she loves to feed people. She can cook anything and it comes out perfect every time. She makes this one chicken dish, I absolutely love. I have tried to make it several times, it never comes out as good as hers. I swear, I follow her directions, I do everything she does and still my chicken comes out dry and over cooked. Hers practically melts in your mouth. She is also famous around our family for her salad dressing. It's simple - oil, vinegar and salt. That's it, but try to get it to taste like hers. It never ever does. Somehow her hands are the only hands in the universe that know the exact amounts of the vinegar, oil and salt to put in. Her salad just burst in your mouth with the perfect blend of ingredients. It's frustrating when you have been watching her make this salad for years and still you cannot duplicate it!

To say my parents house is busy, is an understatement. Every night of the week at least one of us girls and our kids are popping in for dinner. Sometimes we call to warn her, but most times we just show up, she always has enough food. Sundays are the busiest, everyone comes over for our weekly 2:00 pasta dinner. It is so much fun. We catch up, eat, laugh, and watch dad torture mom. Mom is always the last one to sit and eat. She is busy getting every one's plate. My father's plate is first, my mother has made my father plate forever. He comes in the kitchen like a king, and sits on his throne at the head of the table. Mom fills his plate and brings it over to him. He says something like "Tankkkks sweeeeetie!" and she says "Shaddup and eat". God forbid if she forgets to make his coffee. This conversation occurs at least once a week...goes something like this.

Dad - "Can I have my coffee"

Mom - "Shit, I forgot to make it. You want it, go make it yourself, I'm eating. (she gets up and starts to make the coffee) "I wish for one second you were married to a girl of today. They would tell you to go take a shit, and get up to make your own coffee. You don't know how lucky you are I'm the sap that married you, you would never survive if you were married to one of your daughters. You don't see them getting coffee for their husbands."

(Coffees done, mom pours it in a mug, gets the Creamora, sugar and a spoon, carries it to my dad)

Dad - "Tankkkks sweetttiieeeee"

Mom - "Go take a shit for yourself"

(dad stirs his hot coffee and lays the hot spoon on her hand)

Mom - "OUCH... YOU NO GOOD ROTTEN SOMMANAH BITCH"

I know sound crazy, but it's all true.

Every holiday dinner is at my mom's house. It's a tradition I am fighting to keep for as long as we can. My other sisters always offer to have Christmas Eve or Thanksgiving at their houses, to take the load off my mom. My mother always says no. She would be so disappointed if she didn't smell the turkey roasting in her oven on Thanksgiving morning. She loves to decorate her house for holidays. (I inherited this talent from her). Her kitchen at Christmas time should be in a magazine. She has the top of her cupboards lit up with lights and electric candles. Its filled with little Christmas trees, furry santas, holly berries, and strings of icicles she bought from QVC. She really has a knack for decorating. Although sometimes she tends to let things get a little too gaudy. One Christmas she bought this shiny gold table cloth, with shiny gold place mats. The light fixture over the table has 200 watt bulbs in all 8 holders (thanks to my dad, who only likes extremely bright lights). Well between the blinding gold tablecloth and 200 watt bulbs reflecting off it, we were all squinting through dinner. This table setting should have come with a warning or at least a pair sunglasses at every plate. My sister Mary Beth ended up with a migraine, and the rest of us had our retnas burned out. Still she did it out of love.

Another holiday tradition in our family is the Dropping of the Forks. We are all sitting with full plates of food, dad has already said Grace, we dive into moms mouthwatering dinner. My mom is standing like an overseer, "Who needs gravy?" "Gene pass the rolls, EJ wants a roll". "Does anyone need a pop?". She worries about all of us. At first we are too busy eating her delicious cooking to notice she is still standing up, eventually someone will say..."Mom sit!" Being no where near her chair she says, "I am. Hang on a minute." Someone else shouts the first warning, "Mom we are going to drop our forks if you don't sit." "NOOOO, I'm sitting" she shouts. She's not sitting she is still at the stove stirring things. "OK, on the count of three we drop our forks...one...two....three!" All the forks drop and we all sit and watch my mom, now she is rushing around like a maniac trying to get to her chair. "There are you satisfied, I'm sitting, now eat!"
Holidays are so much fun in my family. I really feel sorry for people who have not had the pleasure of sharing a holiday with us. So you are all invited to Thanksgiving dinner at my mom's. Don't worry she always has enough food!

The Good Ole Days...

My dad worked his whole life as a tile mechanic. He tiled every mall in the Rochester area, many different schools, businesses, and all of our friends, neighbors and family's houses. He worked like a dog. He was on his hands and knees all day but no matter how tired he was, he would come in the house, find my mom and tackle her to the ground. She would be swearing, "Geneeee get off me, you sommanah bitch...ouch...my arm...you're killing me!" He would just squeeze her tighter. Sometimes he gave her the scissor hold with his legs and there was no getting free. We kids would be laughing and screaming, sometimes we would pile right on top of them. My mom would still be yelling "Geneeeeee...I can't breathe...you asshole...see what you started....get these kids off me!!!" Eventually he would let her go and she would swear all the way back to the stove..."Jesus Christ, everything is probably burned by now...!!" My dad would play with us until dinner was ready. He used to line us all up on the ground and play "steam roller". He would roll on us and squish us into the ground all the while making that vrooooommmmm noise as loud as he could directly in our ears. We could have easily ran away when he was rolling the other person but we stayed, waiting excitedly for our turn to have the breath rolled out of us. There was also the airplane game, Dad would lay on his back and pull his feet up, we would lay our stomach on his feet and he would lift us off the ground and fly us back and forth. I believe the plane known as Charlene crashed one day into my parents bedroom wall as the "pilot" lost control of her. Rose came flying in the room "You asshole, I knew you would hurt them one day....give her to me!!"
Dad also created the game "MMMMMMMM..ERTTTTT. For this game dad would be lying on the floor, we would sit on his stomach, and lean back against his knees. We would pretend we were driving...dad would say "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...ah..MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...then ERTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!! Whenever he said ERT, he would flatten his knees and we would go flying backwards.

The bouncing games were my favorite. My dad again laying on the ground, we would sit on his knees and he would sing his made-up songs and bounce us on his knees to the tune. His most popular song was to the rhythm of Pop goes the weasel.

Hop around the vinegar jug,
the monkey chased the weasel
the monkey stopped to blow his nose
POP goes the weasel.

When dad said POP..he would fly us up as high as he could off his knees...and we would fling all over and laugh hysterically. Another song he sang for the bouncing game was ...

Tra-la-la-BOM-di-ay
They took my clothes away
But I don't care
I got my underwear

This time on the BOM he would bounce us high off his knees.

Here are more songs dad taught us...

Fatty and skinny laying in the bed
Fatty rolled over, skinny dropped dead

My daughter Leah's favorite song of my fathers is...

Fatty and skinny laying in the ditch
Fatty called skinny a dirty sommanah beech-nut bubble gum
Popcorn, grass
If you don't like it
Stick it up your ask
Me no questions tell me no lies, go and pick some apples
and I'll make you an apple pie

Told you he was creative. When I started school, my mom went back to work. So my dad would be the one responsible for getting us up and ready in the morning. He would stand at the bottom of the steps and yell out the Tarzan call, two or three times. He would come in our room and turn on the light, and after a little prodding we slowly got out of bed. My dad sat at the top of the steps and I would climb my sleepy self up on his back and he would give me a piggy-back down the stairs. Dad also made our breakfast. Every morning of our childhood we ate cereal. Seems like a nice normal breakfast doesn't it. Well, my creative dad gave us our cereal in coffee. Yup, we had our Frosted Flakes, Alpha-bits, or Cheerios in a big coffee mug filled with my dads perfectly brewed coffee (and people wonder why we are all so short). My dad still eats this for breakfast every morning, his fav is Kelloggs Corn Pops. My sisters and I survived growing up on this nutritious breakfast and the only side effects I suffer from is drinking my coffee with at least 3 heaping teaspoons of sugar in it.

Meet My Sisters

My parents had 5 daughters to raise. The oldest is Charlene, she is the sweetest and most patient out of all of us. She prays all the time and probably would have been a nun if she never met my brother-in-law, Dick. They fell in love when Char was about 16, got married at 18, and are still together 30 something years later.

Cheryl is the second oldest, she is the most driven, ambitious and smartest. She is also the klutziest. I could write a book about Cheryl's most embarrassing moments. If something weird is going to happen, it will happen to Cheryl. She has a huge heart. She feels she was put on earth to take of her family, which she does.

Mary Beth is the middle child. Poor Mary, we used to pick on her all the time. She was so easy to scare. My sister Gina could give her a mean look with her eyes and Mary would cry. Mary is a true girly-girl. She has to have her hair, nails and clothes perfect at all times. Growing up Mary shared a room with me and Gina. Her side was always neat and her bed was made every morning. Gina and I couldn't even find our beds much less make them.

Gina was born just 15 months after Mary Beth. Gina is the smallest of all the girls. She is only 4'11, but even with that small stature she is the most confident, secure, and out-spoken of us all. You do not want to mess with her, she will put you in your place. She always stood up to my parents growing up. Which in turn carved a much easier path for me. For example, she went to my parents and told them she was moving in with her boyfriend. My parents didn't like that idea. Gina made it clear she was not asking them, she was just letting them know. Turns out it was a good decision, she has been married to that "boyfriend" for over 20 years.

I am the baby (they saved the best for last, heehee). I basically have been raised by 5 mothers. Even now at 44 my sisters still tell me what to do. I can't make a move without getting the approval from at least one of them. I love them all and would be lost without them.

Being the last of the litter, and coming a full 4 years after my sister Gina, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that I was not "planned". I mentioned this to my dad one day, the fact that I was a mistake. He said something to me that I will never forget. He said "You're the best mistake I ever made." (I know, he's the sweetest). My mom doesn't say sweet things. I remember being 8 years old and asking my mom who was Santa Claus, she was busy making sauce, she whipped around and yelled, "I AM...OK!! No explanation, no long sensitive talk or nice words. She turned and continued making meatballs. But now with her grandchildren she's a totally different story. My son had just gotten over a cold and I told her I was sending him back to school. She had a holy fit attack. "Why are you rushing him back to school, he should be home a few more days!!!" I couldn't believe my ears, this was coming from the same woman who once told me, "You are going back to school tomorrow even if you have to go in an ambulance!"

One of a Kind - Not Exactly!

God so loved my dad, he decided to clone him. God said, "Let there be 2 of him, let them be identical, let them marry two women who are cousins, let them build houses right next door to each other, and let them both be perfect except for a little weird streak", and POOF my dad and his identical twin brother, Uncle Dick, were born January 24th, 1932.

Although they look the same, their personalities could not be more different. My Uncle Dick is very neat and dapper, every hair is in place. My dad doesn't brush his hair regularly, mom often reminds him, "Go brush your hair, you look like a rooster."

Uncle Dick dresses in nice clothes that actually fit him. He even tucks his shirts in and tops off his look with a belt. My dad, well, if you've read my previous posts, you are aware, my dads wardrobe consists of farmer jeans that are self-tailored and 3 sizes too big. Most of the time, he doesn't even bother to fasten the side buttons, so his farmer jeans just flap in the breeze.

My Uncle Dick's yard is perfect. Every blade of grass stands at attention and considers itself lucky to be in his yard. Uncle Dick works hard. The front of his house is landscaped beautifully. He has perfectly shaped bushes and gorgeous potted flowers which run the length of his house. In the backyard he has a gorgeous flower bed filled with plants he babysat and nurtured from seedlings in his basement. He definitely has a "green thumb". Weeds do not dare to grow in Uncle Dick's yard, he won't allow it. Then, there's his next door neighbors yard. My dad doesn't care about weeds. Matter of fact if he finds pretty weeds in his favorite fishing spots he brings them home and spreads them around his yard. The landscape in front of their house used to have little white stones. I know your thinking, that must have looked nice, and it would have, except my dad let us play in them. So the stone patch in front of our house was filled with Tonka trucks, shovels, pails, and other toys. He didn't mind a bit. His front lawn had brown warn spots all over it from all the neighborhood kids hanging in our yard. We used to play hide 'n seek, tag and all sorts of running games, but we kept the games contained to our yard. There were not many kids who were brave enough to hide in Uncle Dick's yard.

Uncle Dick is more serious, structured and he is definitely the Alpha-twin. My dad is easy-going, laid back, just a lovable clown. Through all their differences, they love each other. No one can make my Uncle Dick laugh the way my dad does and whenever my dad introduces his twin to anyone he always says, "this is my better half". More stories about the twins to come!

Mom's Revenge

Vicks Vapor Rub is a staple in my mothers house. If you go there right now and look in her medicine cabinet you will see at least one jar, if not three or four. It was her favorite cold remedy whenever anyone got sick. When I was little, I had asthma, back then they didn't have inhalers or nebulizers. My mother treated me with 3 things. First, St. Joseph Aspirin, second, a shot glass filled with a mixture of warm honey and lemon juice, and third, the dreaded Vicks Vapor Rub. She would slather Vicks Vapor Rub from just under my earlobes, across my neck and down to my sternum. She would put an itchy washcloth over it to hold in the vapors. The washcloth was useless, the vapors still escaped. In addition to my neck and chest feeling like they were on fire, I would also have to squint for hours so my eyeballs wouldn't burn out of their sockets. To this day I hate the smell of Vicks. My mother, on the other hand, loves it. I think if she were allowed, she might actually eat it. Every night before she goes to bed, she grabs a tissue, puts it around her finger and dives into the Vicks Vapor Rub jar. She pulls out a glob of vicks, then crumples up the tissue and goes to bed holding this tissue near her nose all night. She says it's to open her sinuses, but I think she just really really loves the smell.

One morning she got up with her clear sinuses and went into the kitchen for some coffee. My dad was sitting at the table glaring at her. Being the sweet person she is, she says "What the hell's your problem" My dad answered "You and your Vicks are my problem. I was up at 1:30 last night with my balls on fire" Half-laughing my mom says "What do you mean?" So dad explained "Somehow your Vicks tissue ended up on my side of the bed, burning my balls. At first I thought it was just a bad dream, then I realized it was real and I had to get up and wash them with soap and water. The first time didn't work so I had to wash them over and over again." Trying not to burst out laughing my mom said "Well I don't know how the hell the tissue got down there, I certainly don't put my hand down by your privates, the tissue must have got there by itself" She couldn't hold back the laughter anymore. Which of course only made my dad even more mad, "Ha ha ha, real funny." he said.
She was on the phone in seconds calling everyone.

Something happened the next night that proved my mom's true love for my dad. She went to bed for the first time without a tissue full of Vicks, and hasn't used one since that ball-burning night.

The Bigger The Better

As I've mentioned before, my dad likes all his clothes to be extra large. This is especially true for his underwear. He likes boxer briefs, on a normal man, these underwear would go to the upper thigh. Well, on my dad they stop just above his knees. His white t-shirts are also extra large, so they hang down to about the knee also. Let's not forget his large white socks that come up just below the knee. What a sight he is.

Every night my dad takes a bath. It's usually around 8:00 or 9:00 o'clock. By then Rose is settled down on her couch, in her jammies, watching her DVR'ed episodes of Judge Judy. All she wants to do is relax, but in comes the "little asshole" in his huge underwear, dancing a jig for her. Sometimes he dances, sometimes he comes in like the mummy dragging one leg behind him, there is also the "squeeze the knees together" walk he does. He's very creative. He does all this to entice my mom, and all she does is yell "GET OUTTA MY WAY YOU SOMMANAH BITCH, I CANT SEE JUDGE JUDY!!!!"

One night, my dad was feeling a little extra spunky. He wanted to give her a bigger thrill and actually strip for her. He dropped his drawers, and threw his dirty large underwear towards my mom. The underwear went up and landed perfectly around her head. The crotch was on the top of her head and the waistband was resting on her shoulders. Mom was struggling to get them off her head (lets be honest, her nose was probably in the way). The swear words were flying...when she finally got them off her face, she chased him into the bathroom. All the while she is yelling "You no good rotten sommanah bitch!!!

Night time is scary at their house. They do not watch TV together, mom is always in the living room and dad is in the back room. Dad visits her every once in a while much to her dismay, but she NEVER visits him, she doesn't want to stir him up. The back room is directly across from my parents bedroom. One night my dad actually beat my mom to tv watching time. He had already taken a bath and was watching a program on Animal Channel. This aggravates my mom because now she knows she has to get into the bedroom - right across from him - to get her pjs on, she just knows this will "stir him up". She decides to be sneaky. She goes in the bedroom but doesn't turn on the light, she is hoping he won't notice. She's being as quiet as possible. So far so good. She starts to undress, as soon as she is nude she hears "WOOOHOOOOOO" standing in the doorway is my dad, shining a flashlight on her nude body. (that was painful to write)

Nobodys perfect part 2

My dad is not a big man. He is only about 5'1, maybe 150lbs. He's a little guy but he insists all his clothes must be extra large. He does not like anything to fit him...everything has to be loose and big. His favorite clothes to wear are his farmer jeans. He wears these everyday. When he buys a new pair of farmer jeans, he has to do his own "redesign" on them. First, being extra large, they are about 2 miles too long. So my dad cuts off the bottom of the pants, folds up a cuff, gets out his hot glue gun, and glues in a hem. Second, to prevent the farmer jean shoulder straps from sliding down his arm, he uses the excess hem material to make a strap across his back, he glues both farmer jean shoulder straps to the cut material and wha-lah the straps don't fall off his shoulders anymore. Believe it or not, this is an upgrade. He used to use duct tape to wrap the two shoulder straps together. Fashion is not very important to him. My mother has a fit whenever she has to go anywhere with him in his farmer jeans. "You look like a pauper don't walk anywhere near me in the store." The store is my dads favorite place to torture my mom. I have witnessed it more than once. Mom and I would be shopping along and all the sudden we'd hear him "SWWWEEETTTIIEEEE" from 2 isles away. When she doesn't answer him he just keeps yelling..."OH SWEEEETIE".

One time my parents went grocery shopping together at Wegmans. My father just happened to be wearing his turkey hunting coat. He found his turkey call diaphragm in the pocket. (The diaphragm is a little plastic thing you put in your mouth and when you breathe thru it it makes this annoying loud chirp that supposedly sounds like female turkeys.) My mom was in the produce isle, squeezing heads of lettuce, when she heard the first "CHIRPPPP". She swung around and glared at my dad. Through clenched teeth she said, "Gene, stop it, don't do that again". He gave her a huge smile. Knowing what that smile meant, she grabbed her cart and raced to get as far away from him as she could. There was no getting away, she could hear the chirps even when she couldn't see the "little asshole". Mom said people at Wegmans were looking all around trying to figure out where that noise was coming from. Dad practiced his turkey call up and down every isle. When mom saw him coming towards her, she would swing her cart around and go the other way. My sisters and I were hysterical when we heard this story. That's so him. I said "Oh my God, he is so cute". Mom said what she always says everytime I make that remark. "Oh yeah he's sooooo cute, take him home with you for a while, you will see how cute he is".

Nobodys perfect...

My dad is the cutest, funniest, sweetest, most adorable person on earth, but I have to admit he does have a weird side. We just accept it, ignore it, and even laugh about it.
One day I went to my parents house, and my father was in his weird mode. He was banging on his head, tilting his head, doing that hop on one foot to get water out of your ear thing. So I asked, "Dad, whats wrong?" Mom never gave him a chance to answer, "He's an asshole, can't you see. His ear is plugged and he's acting like a lunatic ok?" She always says "ok?" when she's on a rampage. I'm like..."OK!"

I go find my dad, now he's at the bathroom sink, pouring full glasses of water directly in his ear....cautiously, I say, "Dad...what are you doing"...he says "I'm trying to flush it out". I'm watching him in disbelief...first the glass of water in the ear, then tilted head bounces over the sink, over and over again. He says "its not working"...I'm thinking "shocking". My mother yells from the other room. "Just leave him alone Lori, he's been doing this for 2 hours, driving me insane ok?" My dad gets out one of those bulb pointy sucker things you use to clean boogers out of babies noses. Again he dumps the water in his ear then uses that sucky thing to suck everything out of his ear. I can't believe what I'm seeing. I can't watch anymore. I go find my mother in kitchen. We can hear the water, then the slurping noise from the sucking thing....water, slurp, water, slurp...then silence.
He stopped, water is off, no more slurping noises. I look at my mom, I was about to say, " maybe it worked after all", then we heard the shop vac turn on in the basement. Mom and I could not run down the stairs fast enough. There he was, with the shop vac hose up to his ear. I yelled "DAD, turn that off, are you nuts!!!" My mom yells "GOOD! I HOPE YOU SUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT YOU ASSHOLE!!!"

Where to Start - Part 3

Here's another good fishing related story for you. My dad bought himself a new fishing pole. He was so happy, he loved this new fishing pole. When my mom sees him walk in the house with this new pole, even though she doesn't really care, she has to give him a hard time, she starts..."A new fishing pole, just what you need, you have 20 of them in the back room!!!" My dad explains, this is a "special" fishing pole, its 6 feet long, its unbreakable, none of his other fishing poles are like this one. My mom is not interested in this conversation, she leaves the room, she is getting dressed for a wedding they have to attend. My dad follows her with his 6 foot fishing pole. As my mom is bending over to get stuff she feels something poking her butt....yup...its the tip of the 6ft long fishing pole. "GENE...get out of here....get that pole away from me, you asshole!!!" Dad just laughs. He continues to poke her in the most inappropriate places..."GENE ...stop it...I'm gonna break that pole"....Still poking..my dad says "you can't break this pole, this pole is unbreakable" (poke... poke), with that my mom turns around, grabs the tip of the fishing pole , gives it a good twist and the top of the pole snaps off. Now, I wasn't there, but my mom said the look of shock on my dads face was priceless. Mom handed the tip of the pole back to my dad...."So much for being unbreakable, that's what you get for poking me, you SOMMANAH bitch". Dad exchanged the broken pole for a new, 6 foot long, unbreakable pole the next day, this time there was no poking going on.