The Day I Almost Died

In honor of my godson’s birthday, here’s a post from May, 2015

I almost died the day my godson Martin was born. But more about that later…

1st birthday

Martin’s 1st birthday

I’m godmother to 4 kids – Eric, Corie, Martin and my nephew Kevin. Hard to believe people actually entrusted me with their children’s religious upbringing, isn’t it?what were they thinkingNever mind the last time I knelt in a pew was during the Reagan administration. Maybe that’s an exaggeration…more like the Clinton era.

First Holy Communion

First Holy Communion

Now don’t get me wrong; I may not be a church-going Catholic but I’m on good terms with the Big Guy. He knows, although I’m not a weekly parishioner, most days I attempt to be a decent human being. For instance, I’m pretty sure I’ve only violated three of the Ten Commandments. I can’t be certain though since I only remember four.

10 CommandmentsActually, I’m lucky to be alive to break any of the Commandments.

That brings us to when I almost died the day Martin was born. It was November 4, 1992. His parents, Sharon and Jim, invited me to videotape Martin’s big entrance. But when Jim called saying it was almost time, I’d just finished a graveyard shift so was half asleep.

Still, I did my best Danica Patrick impersonation to reach the hospital 45 minutes away.

Danica Patrick

Speeding at 80 mph, I nodded off, almost hitting the center divider. I was heading toward the white light, if you know what I mean. Suddenly, it was as if my guardian angel gave me a whiff of smelling salts and snapped me awake. If my life flashed before my eyes, I was simply too tired to notice. Anyway, turns out I needn’t have hurried; Martin took his sweet time getting here.

Oh so close...

Oh so close…

Fast forward to last weekend, when my now 22-year-old godson graduated the from University of Dallas. Unlike in my blog, The Art of Travel, this time my only issue on the plane was enduring a three hour flight with the sweet, headphone-wearing young gal next to me humming to music on her iPhone. The. Entire. Three. Hours.

 

Coulda been worse I guess. She wasn’t an awful hummer. And at least I wasn’t next to the guy 5 rows up who forgot his headphones though still enjoyed a comedy on his laptop. It was a Seinfeld episode – the one where Jerry can’t remember the name of his date but knows it rhymes with a woman’s body part. I know this because I, and everyone within 5 rows of him, heard every word. (If you’re wondering, her name was Delores.)

Over in Dallas, during a night of flash flooding and thunderstorms that shook our hotel and triggered our cell phone alarms at 3:00 a.m., we waited for a tornado to hit. Why do folks fear measly earthquakes? Texas can keep their tornadoes. Give me a ground shaker any day of the week.

Anyway, my godson, sporting a little ponytail, a goatee and a broad smile, proudly accepted his BA in Business. What a journey it’s been.

He’s the handsome one in the middle

I admit I had my doubts about that kid as a tyke, when he’d pull out tufts of his sister Caitlin’s hair or, from his car seat, bit off chunks of padding from the car door upholstery. Let’s just say he was quite a handful.

Check out that devilish grin (Martin's, not mine)

Check out that devilish grin (Martin’s, not mine)

Martin and his sister Caitlin

Martin and sister Caitlin

But no need to worry; this story has a happy ending. Martin grew, both literally and figuratively (he’s now 6’5″) to become an engaging, kind and considerate young man. And perhaps most importantly, he calls his godmother on her birthday and on Mother’s Day too. That’s without knowing he’s already in my Will.

Yep, last Sunday was quite a day. Watching Martin graduate, I had a hard time believing 22 years had already passed since that day on November 4, 1992 when two great things happened: my godson made his late but grand entrance into the world and I lived to see it.
Jim, Caitlin, Martin and Sharon

Jim, Caitlin, Martin and Sharon

 

Martin and me bowling

martin and me at airport

 

Don’t Be Ridiculous

don't be ridiculous

Have you noticed the longer one lives, the more ridiculousness one experiences? And by one I mean me. Naturally, you wouldn’t know how much ridiculousness I personally encounter because you don’t know me. Unless you’re a friend of mine, that is. In that case you most definitely know the degree of ridiculousness I come across because, let’s face it, I make sure you do.

If we’ve never met, then trust me on this one. Ridiculousness is all around us. If you haven’t noticed, you’re either too young to know better or you’re going through life witheyes wide shut

That’s an actual saying. You can look it up.

Another nifty saying, Live and Learn, actually turns out to be true. I know I’m full of sayings today but what can I say? Other than let me tell you the latest ridiculous thing I’ve lived and learned… Continue reading

An Unusual Gift

I received the most unusual and unexpected gift last week from someone I’ve never met. She knows me from the work I do with feral cats and is a friend of a friend. So why did she give me a gift? Be patient, I’m getting there…

HoldYourHorses-1

Hold your horses

In this line of work, meaning TNR (Trap-Neuter-Return), I meet some interesting folks. Let’s just say not all of them particularly like cats. Some downright hate ’em. But then not everyone is perfect, right? Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying if you don’t like cats you’re a sociopath. But my guess is you’re probably close.

Anyway, my friend was telling this gift-giving person about my encounters with these as yet undiagnosed sociopaths. They’re the characters who not only make this work interesting, unpredictable, and a little bit scary, but have taught me I should learn self defense. Like yesterday already. I’ve intended to take classes for about 10 years now but have I done it? Intended is the operative word there.

self defense2

Take THAT you cat hater

Continue reading

C’est La Vie

I can’t have nice things.

That’s because within months, sometimes weeks, they are no longer nice things. You see, I have a tendency to spill, rip, stain, break and generally ruin stuff.

unknown goop on my tennis top

unknown goop on my tennis top

On those rare occasions when I do have nice things, I try to be so careful that I usually end up doing exactly what I tried hard to avoid. Like being told not to think about the pink elephant in the room. Once it’s in your brain, that’s ALL you can think about.

Continue reading

How to Spot a Psychopath

I just found out my friend Pam is very likely a psychopath. What a total shocker. You’d think I would have recognized this sooner, wouldn’t you? We’ve been friends since high school for God’s sake. I played softball with her all through my 20s. We were in each other’s weddings and today she’s still one of my best friends. So why didn’t I notice something was amiss?

And she looks so normal...

And she looks so normal…

I’m also a bit surprised Pam’s psychosis slipped by me because in college I minored in Abnormal Psychology. I know it’s been 40 years, but still…I’m sorta drawn to the crazy. Excuse me; I believe the politically correct term is unstable. My bad.

You may be wondering how I discovered this personality disorder in my good friend. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying she maimed anyone and subsequently displayed no outward signs of telltale guilt because of a lack of empathy or ability to relate to others. Continue reading