The old man, and Bob the Gnome.

When I was a child, and when I wouldn't go to sleep at night, my siblings and I were told of an old man, "o velho" who walked down the streets at night with a large sack over his shoulder searching for noisy children who misbehaved and would not sleep at night. If he came to a house where there was a noisy child, he would knock on the door. If the child persisted to not sleep after the knock, he would go through an open window, search for the child, and put him or her in his large sack. At the end of the night he would throw the sack in a river.

I cannot tell you the countless times "o velho" visited our home throughout my childhood. The sound of the knock would send me to a frightened state, and all fell silent.

"O velho!" my mother would exclaim in her most distressed voice.

At the announcement of "o velho" at the door, I quickly closed my eyes tightly and try to sleep. I would listen intently as my mother would continue to recite her nightly prayers whispered in Portuguese. That and a song of Ave Maria would usually do the trick, sending the old man back to his walk down Alamo Avenue.

Eventually, after years of his visits, we all knew that there was no "old man" walking the streets at night, and that the knock on the door was really my mother or father knocking on our bedroom wall, or any wall nearest at the time. Yes, we all eventually found out it was all an evil hoax, but the threat of the old man was enough to still make us silent. Even through our giggles, we would make a serious effort to fall asleep. We would even knock on the walls ourselves to mock our parents, but eventually we would go to sleep.

The old man story was a scare tactic brought down from generation to generation--it was used on my mom, and her parents before her. Who knows how long "O velho" had visited this family throughout the years. It may sound like a cruel and frightening way for any child to be coaxed to sleep, but I will say it did work, and I do confess I have tried it with my own children, but with little success; especially with my youngest child.

No, Nicholas did not buy the idea of an old man walking the streets with a sack over his shoulder. I had to think of something different. It would be years later, that Nicholas would confess to me his constant nightmares of a little garden gnome that sat on a swing in our backyard.

Yes, instead of "o velho" we had Bob the Gnome.

Bob the Gnome was bought at the drug store one spring day. He wore a little red hat, and sat on a swing. I immediately fell in love with this little garden gnome, and I happily brought him home. My husband hung the little man and his swing on the little cherry blossom tree that was growing in the corner of our backyard. The children named the gnome "Bob" and everyone seemed to enjoy his silent presence in the backyard, everyone except Nicholas.

I hate to admit this, but when Nicholas misbehaved, I told him that Bob was not happy. Nicholas would look outside the sliding door window to see if it was really true. Bob was sitting on his swing, but I warned my son that he could easily jump off that swing and pay Nicholas a visit if he didn't behave. The thought of this garden gnome coming to life must have shocked Nicholas, and soon only the mention of the name "Bob" would set the boy into sweet silence. It worked, and there was temporary peace, and that is all I cared about for that particular moment, but of course the older children in the household had a field day with this. They enjoyed telling their younger brother how upset Bob was going to be with him if he didn't stop crying--stories that I probably don't even know about.

One day, the cherry blossom tree, Bob's home for a number of years was chopped down to make way of a swimming pool, and Nicholas could not have been happier. It was then that Nicholas confessed to me his many dreams of Bob the Gnome. Apparently, Bob would visit him at night in his dreams. His face would peer at him through the window, and sometimes Bob would at time be chasing him throughout the house with a branch from the cherry blossom tree. Needless to say, Nicholas was not going to miss Bob. All of this naturally made me feel horrible, but Bob had filled his purpose; he did his duty, it was time for this little old man to retire.

Bob and his swing now sits in a box in the attic; waiting for a new generation and a new tree.

Smuggling Chocolate

It's a dark night. My car is parked in an alley, and I'm in a dark room alone, with a cardboard box sitting on a table before me. It is full of Hershey's Chocolate candy bars. I know this because the cardboard box is partially opened. I know the candy well because it's a childhood favorite of mine. I'm now faced with a dilemma. If it had been any other kind of chocolate bar, it wouldn't have been an issue, but this was Hershey's milk chocolate candy, without almonds. This was the candy bar I would ask for as a child. This was the candy bar, I found myself reaching for time and time again. But now that was part of my past. I no longer went out seeking it's forbidden sweetness. I learned to take steps to avoid it. I learned to ignore it, and refuse to be tempted. But, now there was no hiding. I couldn't just simply ignore it. It was now sitting there in front of me, as if it was taunting my childhood emotions. A partially open box of hundreds of Hershey's candy bars were now calling my name.

I suddenly realized the many years I've deprived myself from this candy. Was this really necessary? I thought to myself, and tried to justify my sudden urge for milk chocolate. Was I really helping myself from resisting this taste of chocolate? How was it really benefiting myself? Why was I denying myself for so many years? It has been awhile since I unwrapped a Hershey's candy bar. It would be so easy to just take one, and have a taste. Who would I hurt by doing this anyway? But, I had a job to do. It couldn't happen! This box needs to be delivered to a secret location. This is my job. A lot of people are counting on me on this delivery. It has to happen. I must not be tempted!

Still my inner voices were wrestling madly over it all. Would they notice one missing candy bar? Really? Let's be rational I tell myself. I'm sitting there, staring at the partially opened box. I convince myself that one missing candy bar would go unnoticed. Surely, it would be written off as a packing error. Packer 14, aka: Lois at the factory must have forgotten to recount or maybe she misread the packing slip. It was a mistake that could easily be done. No one would question it. Packer 14, Lois, who proudly packed this box may have had an off day, or may have found herself tempted as well.

It was all so easy, after all, the box was already opened!

Without giving it another thought, I take a candy bar, and rip off the wrapper without abandon. The silkiness and creaminess of the milk chocolate melting in my mouth is pure ecstasy! I now remember carefree childhood days of my youth. Oh how my mouth had yearned for such richness! How could have denied myself this simple pleasure of creamy goodness?!

It is only afterwards do I realize my mistake.

The box of chocolates is still in front of me, the box partially opened, but to my horror, there are only 3 chocolate bars inside. I'm bewildered. Where was the once full bounty of chocolate?! There must have been hundreds of chocolates in that box moments before. It is at that moment I realize that I'm surrounded by hundreds of ripped and torn candy wrappers! My heart is pounding now. My guilt is now literally written all over my face-chocolate everywhere, on my lips, clothes and on my fingers! Packer 14, Lois was in the clear. I was in trouble. I would be found out. It was over.

Suddenly, a piercing sound interrupts the darkness! It is the phone ringing loudly in my ear! I frantically reach for the phone.

"Hello?"

Silence.

An apprehensive voice finally is heard on the other line, saying, "Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Langley, I thought I was calling Lizzy's cell phone."

I suddenly realize now that I'm no longer in a dark room, with an open box of missing candy bars. My fingers are no longer covered in melted chocolate. I'm in another dark room, but now I am in my bedroom. I am no longer in trouble. I say my goodbye to my daughter's nervous boyfriend, but he shouldn't worry. It may be 2 o'clock in the morning, but the guy did me a favor. I am in in no means angry with the poor boy, on the contrary I am grateful to be saved from this horrible dream of chocolate and anxiety! I lay there now in my bed, with my husband snoring by my side, as I wait for my heart to assume it's natural heart beat, and to fall back to a sweet, restful slumber.

Never Forget.

Yesterday was 9/11.. I remember that day well. It was day of tragic loss. It's a day the devil came to town, and his visit shook us all. It's a day that no one should forget. I remember that day, and those years that followed that year...

Those years in particular were years of many struggles. It was another of year of being a single mom, raising two kids on her own, with bills to pay, hardly getting by with no support from an ex-husband who apparently was having too much of a good time hiding in New Jersey with his new internet love match. So, forgive me if I sound a bit bitter, but when I see pictures of him, paying homage to 9/11 of he and his lover on the internet, with the Twin Towers in the background, all smiley and lovey dovey, knowing that during that time, "HIS" life was the ONLY life that he cared about, it does make me a little upset.

So pardon this entry, if I sound a little off my guard.

I'm doing much better now though. The best revenge in life is to live a happy life. I am happy, but I NEVER forget. I can forgive, but I WILL NEVER forget. When you hurt my kids--when you abandon my kids and not even leave an address or phone number, you show me what you are made of. THAT I WILL NEVER FORGET.

Be well and happy, far, far away.

Only In My Dreams..

I've had a few bizarre dreams lately. There really isn't a reason for them, I mean I'm not taking any cold medication or any other drug that would possibly bring on such lucid dreams. I admit, the dreams are more hilarious than frightening, however, I don't see the humor in them until I actually wake up. Lately, I've been laughing a lot each morning. I think my husband is wondering about my mental state at this point.

Last week, I had a dream about being at church with my mother. There was some kind of festival going on, and the little mission chapel of the church had been renovated, with a huge garden and many new religious statues. I don't remember what we were doing there, but I remember thinking to myself, "Wow, I don't remember all these statues!" It looked like a museum, or more like we were walking through some ancient ruins in Rome somewhere. The statues were huge though, and I remember trying to climb on one in order to get a picture, which would really be very inappropriate thing to do. Then we walked towards the parking lot, and got into a car. My mother, who never learned to drive or ever got a driver's license is driving! Now I'm really nervous. We are driving along, and I remember being on the edge of my seat, the whole entire time, getting rather agitated by her behavior after she decides to turn up the radio so she can start singing to her favorite song. Suddenly out from the corner of my eye, I see an old woman followed by two other people crossing the cross walk in front of us. I scream in horror, as I see the face of Betty White hitting our windshield! All I can see is a blur of white hair and red lipstick! Mother stops the car, and I frantically get out to check on Betty. She is fine, but her lipstick is all over the windshield, and my mother is quite upset about that.

I wake up, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. Until I eventually realize it was just a dream, I let out a big sigh of relief. As I lay there, thinking about the events of this dream, I realize it was quite silly, and I can't contain myself, so I burst out laughing. Doing so, I wake up the husband.

"What's so funny, honey?"

I'm almost too embarrassed to say.

Well, last night I had an equally bizarre dream. This time I am on a mission, and I need to get somewhere very quickly, so instead of driving, or taking a train or a bus, or a plane, I decide to fly by way of hang-gliding. So I take off, and fly over the town, take in the sights by the ocean, until I reach my mother's home in Portugal. Yes, I actually cross the entire Atlantic ocean. My mother is please that I arrived so quickly and wants to hang glide back with me, so I share the harness with her and we proceed to hang glide back home to California in the nick of time! Then my cousin Adelaide decides to tag along, so I let her hang glide with me back to the boardwalk near the ocean so we can go on the Giant Dipper roller coaster. Wow.

I wake up, and try to make sense of it all again. I really don't have much of an explanation. Perhaps I'm watching a little too much television? This time I'm not frightened by the dream, because it was a happy dream, but as I remember and consider all the silliness of it, I proceed to burst out laughing again.

This time my husband didn't bother to ask, as I proceeded to giggle until I went back to sleep.

I'm thinking now, and I'm realizing that these dreams are all about my mother. She is on vacation, and I haven't seen her for over a month. From the phone conversations that I have had with her so far, I can tell that she is really having a good time and is enjoying her vacation. She isn't complaining. She is out having her little adventures with her sister, and is really enjoying herself. My dreams are showing her in a new light. She is actually having fun--something she hasn't been doing for a long time. I just have to accept it, and not worry.

She is having fun, but am I? In the first dream, I'm not having fun whatsoever Perhaps I've been feeling a little uneasy with her being so far away, and yes I worry sometimes. The second dream, I'm not all that worried about my mother going off to hang glide, so in a respect, I've set her free to live and fly away and have fun.

Isn't weird, that roles, of mother and daughter are being reversed here? It happens. I just worry about my mom and I miss her.

Oh well.. Who knows what I will dream up next. Perhaps I'll win a Nascar race.

A Little Bit Of Lemon Juice

Bitterness..

What causes people to become bitter?

It could be a number of things. Perhaps it comes from being wronged by someone they once truly trusted. It's natural to feel that way. It's also natural to feel some resentment or jealousy. Most of us have been there at one point of our lives. But when is the right time to just, "let it" go?

Some people seem to can't let it go. There are some who continue to feel bitter, simply because it's comfortable. It's easier to go through life blaming someone else for their own unhappiness. It's harder to own your actions, as it is to your own faults, and responsibilities. These people will be more than willing to point fingers of blame. Their hands are clean. They did all the right things. They don't deserve to feel this way, or to be wronged the way they have been. They live for the day when karma should come to tear the other person to their knees. Until then, if the day ever comes, life will continue. Sometimes karma takes it's time, but misery does love company.

We've all met these people. At least I have. No one wants to hang out with them, unless you are having a particular bad day. They will agree with you, and listen, but nothing you say will even compare to what they have been through. Sometimes these people are good to have around, but after awhile, they stop talking to you because you seem too "cheerful" or "happy". How dare you feel that way, and you deserve to be "wronged" because you let it happen. You are just too nice, and therefore, boring, careless and stupid.

I'm far, by any means perfect. Sometimes a little bit of bitterness comes back to haunt me, and at times it doesn't really take that much to bring it on. Sometimes it just takes a photograph. You just want to take it, and tear that smug look on their faces and proceed to throw the pieces into the toilet bowl, release the flush and watch those smiles flush down in a whirlpool. (cackle...cackle...cackle..)

Then all is good.

The sun is shining, and I am surrounded by good people and good things. Then I will feel silly for a few days, and then it's all forgotten. I admit, I feel kind of silly right now.

P.S. No, this entry is not about YOU. :)

Until next time...

Pillow Talk

It's Thursday, and nothing really exciting to talk about, so I will talk about my bedroom.

Since my time off of work, I've decided to redecorate my bedroom. It needed a fresh change. It all started when I decided we needed a new comforter, so I went to Ross and found a comforter for a really good price, so I bought it. When I got home, I discovered WHY it was at such a good price. It was just hideous. I thought the colors were pretty, gold and brown, but once out of the package, the design on the comforter resembled endless strands of gold chains, very poorly made with dozens of loose threads sticking out of the seams. It came with 4 pillows, all with the same design. To say the least, I wasn't too happy with my purchase and wanted to return it, but I didn't think I would be able to fit everything back in the plastic zippered bag it came it, plus, after getting the bed skirt under my Cal King mattress by myself, I really didn't want to take it out until I could replace it.

Lizzy said it best when she said:

"Mom it looks like a comforter you'd expect to see in a Gotti bedroom. All that's missing is a line of coke on the the night dresser."

My husband reminded me, "You get what you pay for." So, I guess I felt that was license enough to just go a little crazy and spend more money. So we lived with the gaudy Gotti comforter, that was already falling apart, and it's matching pillows for about a few weeks. I think Rich cursed under his breath each time he took each pillow off the bed before going to bed each night. He really hated that comforter as much as I did.

The new comforter arrived to the house, along with the matching sheets, and husband and I fell in love with them. We really like them a lot. But, of course, something seemed amiss. It didn't match with the rest of the decor of the room, so I had to do a little more shopping. Rich didn't complain when the glass jar of random shells appeared, or did he say anything about the other nautical nick knacks that suddenly made their way in the room. Nor did he complain about the new pictures on the wall to match with the new comforter. I mean, those green framed pictures of the flowers that had been hanging in our bedroom were getting a little dull and old, not to mention under all those years of dust. (I really need to remember to dust more.) I replaced them with happy beach scenic pictures of fishing boats, and umbrellas on the sand; things we both love.

Of course, if I'm going to change the pictures in the bedroom, I might as well change the ones in the master bathroom as well, right? So, I hurried over to TJMaxx and found some really nice pictures to compliment the bedroom scheme. I was expecting something from Rich then, but nothing. He seemed content. I think he was happy I took down the framed poster that was in there. It was a Renoir river scene with a people sitting at the river bank of the Siene staring at you when you look up from sitting on the toilet. Now, all you see are grassy, white sandy beach scenes. Much better. The pictures actually remind me of the place where we got married, so it doesn't get better than that.

Today another box arrived at the front door. New table lamps. Yep, I broke down and bought new lamps for the nightstands. I'm wondering if today he (the husband) will say anything. I'm sorry, but I really think the table lamps he inherited from his parents like almost 20 something years ago really need to find a new place in the attic. They don't match our bedroom scenery anymore. Okay, so I have the table lamps in, and I've only made one other purchase that still hasn't arrived yet. It's another canvas for the bedroom wall. Then, I swear, I'll be done. Swear.

Where Did June & July Go?

I haven't posted since May, I know. Forgive me.

When I last posted I wrote about the upcoming graduations of our three older children. It all went extremely well and smoothly. Matt's graduation was first, followed by Lizzy, and lastly by Andrew. The graduation party that was thrown at the house in June was a lot of work, but with the help of my homemade sangria, it all went well. We had a house full of family and friends and even a few neighbors and I must say it was a grand success...as far as what people have told me anyway. Immediately after the party, Lizzy left with a few friends to New York, and completely fell in love with the city. my in-laws stayed with us for a good week, and after Lizzy returned from the Big Apple, one of my closest cousin's, Adelaide and her family came to visit us from the Azores and stayed at the house--all so much fun, I cannot begin to tell you how thrilled I was to have her and her husband and kids at the house. All in all I have about over 3,000 pictures in my computer to describe where June and July went, but at the moment it's all just a blur.

August arrived and at the present time, my once full house is now slowly getting empty. My cousins left a few weeks ago back home to the Azores, and last week my daughter left with my mom to join them there for the summer. Andrew is practicing his car driving skills, trying to pass to his driver's test so he can drive his girlfriend out to dinner before she leaves for the military later this month,and my husband's son Matthew is leaving for college. Nicholas starts school around the same time, so I took a few weeks off to spend with him before he is back in his school uniform, but frankly, I think we are both a little exhausted. We've been filling in these last days with days in the pool. The weather so far has been beautiful, so we have been pretty lucky.

So, at this point as I look back at the first 6 months of this year is gone. With all the excitement and madness of it all, it's sad to see it gone.

Later this month, school will start again. Andrew will start his first semester in college, driving to classes--yes, that stresses me out a little for sure. Lizzy will be back home, and will start pursuing her career--hopefully not too far away, and Matthew will be at Penn State. Wow.

Nicholas is starting the 3rd grade. Okay, I think I can handle this.

Until next time...

Julie