Learning What You DON'T Want Out of Life, Bitsy and her short stint as a Flight Attendant and Where do I want to be in 10 years?

Almost as much fun as being captured by hungry canabilistic pygmies and being offerred a last meal.

I reckon 54 is too old to use the excuse of  "mid life crisis" unless ya'll firmly believe the Webbman will have me around til I'm 108.  Poor little fella, can you picture that?  Bitsy still blogging about "Gawd" knows what at 108.  I know you have all figured out that there is nothing much sacred in Bitsyworld, so at the ripe old age of 108, I may be discussing the advantages of Depends products, my roomies at the home which, by the way, I will only be going to kicking and screaming if the Lil Momma has her way.  She has politely informed me that it is not her fault she is an "only child of divorced parents" and that IF she has to she'll put her father and me in the same home and make us share a room if I keep complaining about how I'm not ever going to one of those places!  Anyhow, I really don't think I can get away with attributing all the recent ponderings I've been kicking around about "what I want to be when I grow up" and "where I want to be ten years from now to a mid-life crisis, maybe they just need to increase my meds?

I'm sure most people my age already have gotten with some "life coach" and mapped out benchmarks, retiring, travelling the world and things along those lines.  I, on the other hand, am still looking for the "perfect" job.  You know, the one that "is your passion, makes you whole, completes your life and that moves heaven and earth".  Kind of sounds from that scenario that I may be looking to be a hooker or at the very minimum some serious smooching leading to other more interesting activities, but I'm not.  I've been dreaming about "What I Really Wanted to Do With the Remainder of My Days on this Beautiful Earth".

I always remember my Dad telling me that in order to figure out what you want out of life, it helps to have a good idea of what you DON'T want out of life.  I've talked before in other posts about all the different things "workwise" that I have tackled in my lifetime, and of course, there were good things and not so good things about each one.  The only professional move I made that I can honestly say was horrific and that I look back and question my sanity on was hiring on as a "flight attendant" with ASA/Delta out of Atlanta.  It was the hardest, least appreciated, most over-rated, least glamorous, aggravation inducing position that this Bitsy ever held.  What possessed me to decide to walk into the flight attendant shoes?  Who knows really, except there I was, recently divorced, in a small town, with one reasonably decent job in the can after being involved in a very public "messy" outcome from that position, so one unsuspecting morning "there it was" ....... the ad in the paper staring me in the face as if it was a blinking lit message from God ........"Travel the World.  ASA/Delta Airlines Seeking Top Notch Flight Attendants.  Apply blah blah blah", so apply I did.  Two weeks later, I found myself being flown to Atlanta for a group interview, a week later I found myself being flown to Atlanta for an individual interview, two weeks later I found myself participating in 8 weeks of intensive "flight attendant from hell" training and I realized then that it was not a message from God I had received, but quite possibly a direct call from Lucipher himself.  At that point, I considered calling in a Priest for a consult, but I figured I needed to stick it out and see where the cards fell.  The class of 60 trained in Atlanta daily from 8 a.m. until sometimes 8 at night, tested rigorously, climbed out of emergency doors onto wings of planes, down shoots, worked on test dummies, used defibulators, suited up in Firefighter suits and were locked in fire set smoke filled trailers having to maintain our wits tending to passengers and putting fires out in the dark.  Basically we were put through Flight Attendant Bootcamp Hell hosted by Nazi's. Out of our original 60, 41 made the cut.  I, of course, being raised to believe I could do anything. . . . persevered.  ME, the small town girl raised in a population of 25K or less, moving to Atlanta and driving with the 420,000's of people who navigate like bats out of hell to and from the airport as did I for my scheduled flights to Memphis, Birmingham, Montgomery, Baton Rouge, Gulfport, Charleston, Valdosta, Willmington, Daytona Beach, Jacksonville, Myrtle Beach, Savannah, Knoxville, Raleigh/Durham, Washington, North Carolina, South Carolina.......etc. until one day I said "What the hell am I doing flying around the Southeast and various other places at the age of 47~had I lost my mind?"  The answer was YES, I had.  Worst, most aggravating job in the world (at least for me it was).

Being the type of person I am, I tried to add humour to the situation by changing up my Attendant Announcements to the passengers to things like:

"Should the cabin lose pressure, oxygen masks the overhead area. Please place the bag over your own mouth and nose before assisting children ... or other adults acting like children."
"As you exit the plane, make sure to gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. Please do not leave children or spouses."
"Your seat cushions can be used for flotation; and, in the event of an emergency water landing, please paddle to shore and take them with our compliments."
"Welcome aboard Atlantic Southeast Airlines, the Delta Connection Flight XXX to YYY. To operate your seat belt, insert the metal tab into the buckle, and pull tight. It works just like every other seat belt and, if you don't know how to operate one, you probably shouldn't be out in public unsupervised."

Sadly, I found that NOBODY listens to the public safety announcements we were required to make and/or that if they listened, they didn't give a flip about what you said, they were going to panic no matter what!

My application process and training lasted longer than the time I actually worked on the job.  Those meager 7 months still trigger nightmares about rolling those stupid metal carts down the aisles, the drunk passengers, the belligerent argumentative know it alls who could have cared less if you told them 40 times to put their damn seat belts on and extend their tray tables and seat backs to an upright position, the older people flying alone, the turbulence.  I still have nightmares about the spilled hot coffee, the one passenger on every flight who was the definition of an "asshead" and the different hotel room in a different City every night.  I decided they could keep this luxurious job and give it to some other poor unsuspecting fool who believed she could do anything just like me! 

So, you see, we all have to go through these kinds of jobs . . . . the ones we think we want, but really don't . . . . . to finally get to the job we really want, the one we have a passion for, the one that makes us light up at the thought of reporting for duty.  I think I know what it is . . . . in fact I KNOW I do, problem is I just can't figure out how to make a living off of this "Bitsy" position, but I'm persistent and I'm not giving up on it.  Where there's a will . . . . there's a way.  Right?  Night kiddo's. 

Jaron & the Long Road to Love & Bitsy Prays For You :)

This is a picture of nobody I know, but it seemed appropriate,
so after reading tonight's blog, take solace in knowing they're PRAYING for YOU.

There is nothing quite as peaceful and settling to me than the sound of rain, thunder and gusts of wind whipping around the house.  You would think being a Mississippi Gulf Coast Girl and a Multiple Hurricane veteran who sat in a skiff tied to the columns of our home in 6' of rising churning water with pine trees cracking in half, hearing the screams of neighbors on rooftops and wondering if we were going to have to "swim for it" would have made me a tad skittish of the wind, rain and tropical season, but it didn't. Maybe it was my Mother saying the Rosary in the boat as she hollered at my Dad to swim out and grab the "Family Bible" that was floating away in the churning waters or maybe it was my sister holding the dog in her arms telling our little canine family member that everything would be just fine, or maybe it was my neighbors showing up as the waters receded in their drawers for the lack of anything else to wear.  Whatever it was, bad weather soothes my soul.  I'm just loonie like that.  Sadly, my grand-dog, Gus, does not find the solace and peaceful feeling that I do in bad weather. It makes me sad to see him cringe and tremble and pace.  Just hurts my heart.  To add to the lunacy on my end, tonight I found myself sniveling over an NCIS episode, and yes I've taken my hormone medicine!  Gibbs just gets to me, and as I watched him hold his long time friend in his arms as his buddy croaked, I thought about our immortality and one thought led to another and having the thought process that I do. . . . . the bad weather, the NCIS episode and the stressed grand dog made me realize how extremely blessed I am to be watching and witnessing my only child live life as a healthy, happy, loved adult, as a happily married young woman, as an extremely effective caring nurturing Mother to my precious lil Webbman.  I'm sure you're wondering how I got from one thought to the next, but I did and I've been told that the way my mind works is a mystery, but so is life and it's pretty good, so my MIND must be too, right?  Right.... ?

I realized as I crawled in the bed tonight that I hadn't had time to blog in a few days, so here I am doing one of the things I love best . . . "talking".  I know "blogging" isn't really "talking", but somehow when I do it, I feel like I'm just "talking" to a bunch of friends.  I never really think about the fact that a great number of you don't know me from "Adam's house cat", that is IF "Adam" even had a house cat!  I reckon it depends on which "Adam" they are referring to because surely the "Adam" of "Adam and Eve fame" did not since he didn't have a house, he had a "Garden of Eden", so if it was him, the saying would go . . . "You don't know me from Adam's Garden Cat".  Anyhow, every once in awhile, I look at my blog's page view numbers and I know I don't have 7,439 friends and I know I don't know anyone in France, China, Russia, Canada, the United Kingdom, Australia, etc., but you guys are getting to know me and I'm happy you are, as long as you aren't "bad" people.  I kinda figure anybody who reads my blog about a grandbaby and a grandma called Bitsy can't be "bad" people, right again?  I hope ya'll will all write my grandson when the good Lord decides it's my time to go and tell him how much I loved him.  I'll provide his address at a later date when I determine that you are all indeed definitively NOT "bad" people, that indeed you all have "white horses" and will undoubtedly ride in on them for my services - again "WHEN" the time comes.

I was fixing to say my nightly prayers and as I did, I kind of giggled.  I thought about a song I heard on the radio after a friend asked if I had ever paid it any attention.  I'm a big "listen to the beat" kind of person.  The song could be singing about four monkeys and their quest for World Peace and if it had a good beat, I'd be tapping my fingers on the steering wheel and patting my feet.  The song is called "I'll Pray For You".  It's a great song and while I'll admit, it's not the nicest of sentiments in prayer, but I'd be fibbing if I said the songwriter hadn't pegged a few things I just bet we'd all thought at some point in our lives.  Here's the song, followed by the lyrics for your listening and reading pleasure.

  

I haven't been to church since I don’t remember when

Things were goin’ great ‘til they fell apart again

So I listened to the preacher as he told me what to do

He said you can’t go hatin’ others who have done wrong to you

Sometimes we get angry, but we must not condemn

Let the good Lord do His job and you just pray for them

I pray your brakes go out runnin’ down a hill

I pray a flowerpot falls from a window sill and knocks you in the head like I’d like to

I pray your birthday comes and nobody calls

I pray you’re flyin’ high when your engine stalls

I pray all your dreams never come true

Just know where ever you are honey, I pray for you

I’m really glad I found my way to church

‘Cause I’m already feelin’ better and I thank God for the words

Yeah I’m goin’to take the high road

And do what the preacher told me to do

You keep messin’ up and I’ll keep prayin’ for you

I pray your tire blows out at 100 and 10

I pray you pass out drunk with your best friend and wake up with his and her tattoos

I pray your brakes go out runnin’ down a hill

I pray a flowerpot falls from a window sill and knocks you in the head like I’d like to

I pray your birthday comes and nobody calls

I pray you’re flyin’ high when your engine stalls

I pray all your dreams never come true

Just know wherever you are, near or far, in your house or in your car,

wherever you are honey, I pray for you.

Good Night Folks . . . . . . I have people I have to "pray" for. 

The Girl Singer in the Band, Old Friends and that guy at the Bar!

Last night ended up being the first "footloose and fancy free" night that this Bitsy has had in the week and a half that she has been "home" visiting with the Lil Momma, Precious and the Webbman.  Truth be known, it's the first night I've been OUT anywhere other than to EAT in a number of years!   A last minute invitation came up to have a "girl's" night with a group of very very very old and very very very dear friends.  It's always struck me as odd how the friends you had as children, and in my case all through high school, come with "no expiration date".  They're amazing because you quite literally "pick up right where you left off" when you see them again.  It doesn't matter how long it's been since you've seen them, what they look like, their current situation in life or anything else - all that matters is they are the same girls, more like sisters, that were there when you mortified yourself in front of your first boyfriend, that you were in and out of their homes as kids, knew their "momma and them", experienced joy with them, sadness with them and in my case, quite simply . . . . . "Just Always Knew If I Needed Them", really really needed them that they would come, no matter what unquestionably and see you for the person you were before life jaded you!  Old friends are disguised as regular people, but somehow I believe they are angels placed on this earth to pick you up and dust you off when you most need it!  I must have been covered with dust because I feel better today.

Well, enough on all that.  The "Friends Forever" Crew hauled this "Casino" novice to the Island View Casino for dinner, got me signed up for the players club so I could get my "FREE PLAY funds" since of course, I had no FREE PLAY funds of my own and enjoyed a nice meal (which one of the FF Crew graciously paid for with her comps).  Not living close to anywhere that facilitates gaming, I've never had an appreciation for any of it, but I could see last night just HOW it could become a "social" event and yep, I reckon a social "detriment".  It was a treat for this Bitsy since I've never graced the doors of the Island View Casino.  At any rate, I played and lost my FREE PLAY funds in a split second and off I went to the open area to enjoy to the band.  As I sat there, watching the people interacting I thought, as I so often do, and then I thought some more.  I over analyzed every person, came up with my own judgment of who they were, what they did in life, their personalities and every other thing about them that I had NO realistic idea as to what their real story was.  By the looks of some of the women dancing and flitting about, I am fairly certain they had been practicing their swaggers and dance moves on "poles" located either in their homes or place of employment.  Gosh, I never thought this thought would cross my mind, but "At least they must have a job in this economy :), even if it may include a "pole".  Then there were the young twenty somethings out just having a good time, lots of girls dancing alone, dancing with other girls and well, just dancing wherever they stood.  The inhibitions that lurked inside of this Bitsy at their age, certainly are not present in them at their age.  I watched the one lone older gentleman ask every younger woman in the place to dance (and when I say OLD, bear in mind OLD is relative to me, and his OLD was somewhere around 90).  This is when I began to feel as if I should lower my definition of OLD to include ME!!!  Funny thing is, I didn't want to dance with the old guy anyhow, but when I got passed over I was a smidgen offended :)  I was somewhat relieved when he fell out on the dance floor that it was with one of the "pole dancers" and that I had indeed been deemed as dance unworthy by his old a@#.  Before ya'll start thinking I'm heartless and lack compassion, a few people helped him up and off he went. . . . . .never missing a beat to Boom Boom Pow!

All the "Friends Forever Crew" had straggled back to join me, apparently none substantially richer, but visibly not crying over losing the farm either, so all in all a good night from what I could tell in the world of pass time gaming!  We sat and talked and laughed and sat and talked and laughed some more for what seemed like an hour, but turned out to be multiple hours passing far too quickly.  One thing we all agreed on is that it's a given that as a group we DO NOT LIKE "well endowed, chiseled legged, short black dress wearing girl singers in bands.  We all agreed as a group that it didn't matter that she could belt out a song that sounded like Aretha Franklin coming out of a 5'2", 100 pd., stiletto heel wearing, healthy shining long black hair wearing late 20's girl singer, we would have much preferred listening to a full bodied, frizzy haired brunette of mixed heritage, wearing a Mu Mu, converse tennis shoes that had equal singing ability.  Jealousy in action?  Well maybe, but the fact remains, the b*&%h didn't need to be rubbing her short black dress and shiny hair in our face.  Mu Mu's win out every time.

Despite the girl singer and her obvious lack of fashion sense, the band was good.  Because our little group hadn't seen each other in many years, we felt the need to capture the moment for posterity on our camera phones.  Task at hand - pick just the right young man trolling at the bar that was just sober enough to get the picture in focus.  Well, we found him.  Seemed like a very nice young man in his late 20's, happy to oblige the group of motherly women who were having such a good time!  You tell me if we picked the right guy . .



Friends Forever Thru Thick and Thin



Well, maybe we should have found someone who could take a better picture, but he turned out to be a very nice fellow who delivered a round of pretty blue drinks to the "motherly crew" and took it very well when I asked him to somehow assure us that the drinks were not laced with any type of date rape drug.  He did call over his friends to assure me that he was a good guy and wouldn't ever do that, so after asking him to swap drinks with me, I believed him, drank my drink and shortly thereafter he disappeared for the remainder of the evening with one of the younger pole dancing contingent :).  I guess "good for him", but as a Bitsy, I am going to do my best to warn the Webbman about the dangers of the pole dancing contingent that lurk about just looking for nice young men who purchase drinks for groups of 50ish women cackling randomly at life!  Take heed Webbman.......your Bitsy will always try to steer you clear of the "pole".

I hope the Friends Forever Crew don't wait so long next time, because if we do, I'm fairly certain there best be a Casino in the afterlife because I would lay odds, I'm not here for another 35 years~Happy Saturday ya'll.  Enjoy.



The Upside of this stinkin' thing known as "Long Distance Bitsying"

Bet ya'll thought I had some mystical revelation last night or that the waters had parted and God had shown me the way or at least shown me how "not so entirely awful being a long distance Grandma is" . . . . . WRONG.  Didn't happen, but what I did realize today is how hard the Lil Momma tries.  Big Whoop right?  Still  no LIVE and IN PERSON Webbman appearances daily.  Still NO baby smell, NO baby drool, NO baby giggles, NO watching and listening on the baby monitor, but the Lil Momma trying so hard to include Bitsy is worth something - a PRETTY BIG something in fact.

Not every day, but a number of times a week, my phone makes the noise I love the most.  It resounds with the intro to ZZ Top's Bad to the Bone (YEP, I'll probably need to change that before our Lil Webbman is old enough to realize that I've tagged him with that THEME song).  I adore hearing this just about as much as I like chocolate cake, and that's a mouthful (just wish it was a mouthful of chocolate cake).  It means, I have a text message from the Lil Momma  which usually means (although not always) that I've received a daily update about our lil guy. 

It may just be a picture of she and the lil man buggy'ing their way down the detergent aisle at the grocery, or it may be the little bundle of perfection smiling like he's smiling right at me, or sometimes, it's just him with a pile of 20 or so toys strewn in front of him intent on just which one is going to bring him the most JOY.  The "upside" of this stinkin' long distance Bitsying is that I take NOTHING for granted.  I SAVOR every little breath, every little sound, every little movement of those teenie tiny tootsies and footsies.  Being away from the lil guy, I believe, has made me realize how very special each minute is that I live and breathe as Webbman's Bitsy.  Whatever the text message is and the picture included depicts, it is quite certainly this woman's definition of the word "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh".  Yep, when I look at what has come across the lines of AT&T or thru the great internet connection of internet connections, my heart melts, the "thump thump" speeds up to "thump thump thump".  Bottom line is that it's funny just how much these little blurbs, blips, texts, pictures and phone calls mean to someone who is away, how much the mundane everyday things that the Lil Momma experiences on a daily basis tend to make this Bitsy's day.  All I can say is 'THANK YOU LIL MOMMA" FOR thinking of me and most of all for recognizing just how important YOUR LIL MAN is to YOUR MOMMA.  I Love you Kate Ellen.  You may think you were demoted on the love-o-meter when the Webbman was born into our world, but you weren't . . . . . . . the Webbman, however, is right up there with you.

729 Days on this Earth without the most Kick Ass Granny In the World

Today, June 07, 2011, marks 1 years and 364 days since the Lil Momma's Granny went to Granny "heaven".  Sometimes it seems like yesterday, but other times it seems like an eternity. 

Life is a little less joyous.  Life is a little less full and life is definitely lonelier for many people since Granny left us.  Yes, as the ex-daughter n law, this "Bitsy" includes herself in the "us" composition.  I've blogged on other occasions about what an amazing grandmother Gloria Saba Moran was.  As sad as losing "Granny" was, I've realized over these years that she taught us all the importance of family, the importance of love, and how "unimportant" "STUFF" really is.

I've smiled many a time remembering something she said or something she did and yes, on occasion, how "crazy" we made each other.  I believe that was because we were so very much alike.  We loved so many of the same things and one (1) of those things was the Lil Momma.  I could go on for days about all the special things Granny did and well maybe I should.  Maybe, just maybe, by remembering her in all the joyful ways that she touched our lives, it will soften the memories of the day she left us to join those who passed before her.  Maybe, by remembering the special way she touched our lives, that smile she brought will creep back slowly in place of the sadness that will loom and lurk tonight and tomorrow.  Maybe just maybe.

KICK ASS THINGS ABOUT GRANNY

• Granny worked harder than any woman I know.
• With the money that Granny worked so hard to make, she spent every dime on her children, grandchildren and family - there was nothing she loved more than doing for those she loved.  I learned early not to say I liked something or the Lil Momma liked something because whenever she got paid, there that something would be.  Very rarely, if ever, do I remember Granny buying for herself.
• Granny was there for me when my Mom was not since she had passed away years before.
• Granny showed this novice Mom how to change a diaper, how to bathe the Lil Momma, and well basically we went by the "Granny's Guide to Child Rearing Book" for a long time in our Moran household. 
• Granny never missed a school event.
• Granny never missed a ballgame.
• Granny never missed a hoot, a holler, a cheer or, for that matter, a curse at the referee when it came to one of her grandbabies playing ball.  She was "WELL KNOWN" in the ballpark, in a good way, of course.
• Granny decorated for every holiday.
• Granny made a point of taking the grandbabies to shop for their parent's Christmas Gifts.  It was a Granny/Grandchild outing solely financed with the Christmas Club Saving that Granny ALWAYS did.  I believe the Lil Momma's till has her last Christmas Club Savings Check from Granny and hasn't been able to part with it.  Granny would WANT her to spend it!
• Granny stood up fiercely for her children with a passion that nobody could contend with.
• Granny adored Carnival and parades and everything that went with them.
• Granny loved children, not just her grandchildren, but she made every child on the hill (or within any distance of the hill) feel like she was "their" Granny.  She fostered one and all.
• Granny was not judgmental of her family (God forbid anybody else, but she was the Joan of Ark type defender of the Moran crew.
• Granny had an infectious laugh.
• Granny had an infectious smile.
• Granny made Gingerbread houses every year, she decorated jack-o-lanterns with the grandkids every year and dyed Easter eggs with the grandkids every year.
• Granny made every kind of Christmas cookie, fudge, divinity, pralines.etc. imaginable every year.
• Granny adored live Christmas trees and she was amazed by Christmas lights.
• Granny made a LARGE amount of whisky filled fruitcakes every Christmas and I, for one, can tell you that the Lil Momma's PawPaw Pat (my Dad) would drive me bonkers until I made certain he got his fruitcake and probably a few other people's too!
• Granny loved chotchkas.  You know lil nic naks.  They were everywhere, but that was fine because we all just kept buying them for her because we KNEW she loved them.
• Granny was the best confidante and friend anyone could possibly ever have, because no matter if she agreed or disagreed with you, she would listen and listen attentively, and this trait my friends is probably what made Granny such an amazing person.    What more does a person want than just to have someone listen and utter two words. . . . . . . "I understand".   And she did, just that . . . . UNDERSTAND.

I could go on for a long time with all the things Granny was and all the reasons that I thank God everyday that she blessed our lives so richly, but I would still not cover everything adequately.  There's just not hours in this day.  It makes me so sad to know how much she would have adored the Webbman, but somehow, I believe she's watching and I know she's guiding . . . . . . and I know she's CHEERING "loudly" from above! 

We miss you Granny.

Thanks to you . . . . . . all three (3) grandbabies turned out to be KICK ASS KIDS

 just like their KICK ASS GRANNY!

Being Humble and Fate.

Tonight this Bitsy is kind of tired, but I had to share a few things with my "close" friends.  I know that, on occasion, I seem to go on and on about our lil guy.  Everybody believes their grandchildren are "special".  Everyone sees "perfection" when they lay their eyes on those tiny hands, those itty bitty feet and the absolute goodness and pureness of that little newborn bundle of joy.  Sometimes, I think that some of you may get the impression that I'm blinded by the limitless joy that my grandson has brought to not only me, but all of my family.  Just about the time, I believe this. . . . . that "maybe" just "maybe" there are "other" grandchildren who possess a "similar" amount of charm and personality. . . . Just about the time that "maybe" just "maybe" another child somewhere could have the charisma and "savoi faire" as the Webbman, well just about that time,THIS happens.

 

I got my name in lights with notcelebrity.co.uk

I don't want to brag BUT . . . . . . .

Can't fight progress.

Well, a Bitsy has to do something with her time and talent.

I mean, it's not like I didn't know he was "destined".  It's not like I didn't "TELL" ya'll.  I did, but sometimes, it just doesn't pay to be humble, especially with "The Webbman".  :)

Is it Wrong? I'm Thankful and "When" does "SOMEWHERE ELSE" become HOME?

I believe Dorothy was right all along, plus I like the red shoes and the wand.
  The wand is kinda nifty!

This little blog is quite probably NOT the place to ask this question, so I'll write it, wait a day and IF I still feel the same way, you'll know. . . .the day has passed and I've posted it.  Here goes, and I'll try to be as discreet as I can while noting that the underlying fact somewhere in all this is "I'm Thankful".  Maybe, I should start out that way.  Perhaps that's the thing to do. . . . . .Make a list of all the things "I'm Thankful" for.

Bitsy's "I'm Thankful" for List

1. I'm thankful for the Lil Momma and the joy she brings to my Life.
2. I'm thankful the Webbman came into my life and is healthy and adorable and perfect and did I mention adorable?
3. I'm thankful the Webbman came into my life and is healthy and adorable and perfect and did I mention adorable?  Oops, sorry, I said this already, huh? Well, he's just that precious!  ;)
4. I'm thankful that Precious is "precious", a good husband, a loving individual and an extremely hard worker.
5. I'm thankful that I don't live under an overpass on I-285 or I-85 or I-10 for that matter.
6. I'm thankful I'm not one of those stupid birds that sit on the telephone/electrical wires that cross I-285, I-85 or I-10.  It has got to be nerve wracking up there.
7. I'm thankful for my husband and that my husband loves me (or he does a good job making me believe he does).
8. I'm thankful that I have a brother who I adore, a sister in law who loves not only my brother, but ME, and a godchild/niece and nephew in law who are the best they come.
9. I'm thankful for my sister who has and "would" quite literally give ANYONE the shirt off her back, and I'm thankful that she believes in the eternal "goodness" of mankind.  (Side note:  I wish mankind was as good back to her as she is to it).
10. I'm thankful for Big Peg.  She stands alone in the "DEDICATED" friend category through thick and thin. 
11. I'm thankful for Judy, who stands alone in the "unquestionable" "I'm always gonna be there for you" category, along with her husband, Clarence.  She is quite certainly the ONLY person I would spend the night in a car with at Bayou Caddy.
12. I'm thankful for my "ex" and "ex-family".  I guess that's what you would call them, even though I have a difficult time viewing them that way.
13. I'm thankful for my nephews Cody and Cayce, and my niece n law, Amanda.
14. I'm thankful for my sister n law and friend, Mary, and my brother n law, David.  Again, always there, no matter what.
15. I'm thankful for the opportunity to have a chance at "Godparenting" all over again, with lil precious "Amelia Grae".  
16. I'm thankful for Destiny and the girls. 
17. I'm thankful for Angela Hynes (even though I don't see or talk to her often).  I know she's out there.
18. I'm thankful for Connie Payne Lampley.  She is quite certainly a friend from another life, because I adored her from the moment I met her. 
19. I'm thankful to have been born and raised on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.
20. I'm thankful to have lived and worked in Hancock County, Mississippi.
21. I'm thankful I had the opportunity to work at Canterbury Engineering and meet Chitra, Wendy and Matt. 
22. I'm thankful I continue to be cancer-free.
23. I'm thankful for my dogs.
24. I'm thankful for my friends from high school.
25. I'm thankful for my daughter's friends from high school and college.  She is very blessed.
26. I'm thankful I had the opportunity to see my Dad grow old and be proud of me and my choices.
27. I'm thankful my Dad got to be a PawPaw to the Lil Momma.
28. I'm thankful he passed away before I ASSED up.
29. I'm thankful Carol Stevenson was my Mom.
30. I'm thankful she passed away before I ASSED up.
31. I'm thankful for all my friends and my husband who make me laugh.
32. I'm thankful for second chances and people who give them.
33. I'm thankful for Bippity Boppity Boo (my lil business passion).

I'm certain I've left something out of my "I'm Thankful" List, but it is these very things that make up this amazing list of  things "I'm Thankful" for that make me restless, make me lonely, and make it hard to live away from "home". Quite frankly, it is these "things" that make me KNOW the DIFFERENCE. 

 At what point in your life do you begin to feel like "somewhere else" is home?

I'm not certain that it's going to happen for this Bitsy.  I'm not sure that  IF you were born and raised in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi that you ever feel like "somewhere else" is "home".  On the up end, it's all the wonderful things about the Coast that make a person miss it.  It's all the good people that are lifelong neighbors and friends that make one know the difference, the difference between a "neighbor" and "somebody whose house sits on the lot next door".  I can honestly say that it's the anonymity of this huge over populated sea of humanity that makes it hard for a small town person to find their way.  I can honestly say "It's hard", but on that note "I'm Thankful".

So, in closing this totally pointless blog. . . is it wrong?

Is it wrong to have so much to be "thankful" for and still wish for HOME? 

The Decadent 10 Minute Coffee Break and Have YOU Ever Done This?

This afternoon as I "sewed away" and sat in my sea of felt, tulle and rhinestones, I decided I was going to behave just like everybody else in the world who works hard at something.  I opted to exercise my U.S. Department of Labor Law "given" "right" to a 10 minute break, a luxurious cup of coffee and daydream a little about sitting on the seawall crabbing with the Webbman.  Now mind you. . . . not just any coffee, but coffee ground from fresh beans purchased at the world famous DeKalb County Farmers Market. As if the fresh ground beans weren't decadent enough, I then slowly poured and stirred the half and half which I had heated in the microwave, added raw sugar just to the point of "perfectness" and revelled in being able to enjoy something so divine while I'm covering my bases as a hard working "soul".  Now, truth be known, in order to get away with this "10 minute break entitlement", I have to pretend that I live in one of the eight (8) States in our Nation that actually "DO" provide a break to their employees per State Law.  I think I'll pretend I live in Oregon this month and maybe next month while I'm on break, I'll pretend to live in Vermont.  After all, I don't think there is an age limit that restricts our right to "make believe".  In fact, I KNOW there isn't . . . . I've lived in Bitsy's world all my life and I don't intend on readjusting my life philosophies now!

I would never want it said that those of you who boldly go on to read "Bitsy's Bits" don't gain some form of knowledge from the words found within.  I would never want you to leave empty handed devoid of any new found "pearls of wisdom", SO on that note, I cite the following source for the previous information outlining our rights, or lack thereof, to the joy of 10 minute breaks:  http://www.dol.gov/whd/state/rest.htm

I don't know about any of you, but I found myself in a peculiar situation today.  It was downright annoying. I decided it was about that time of the month to call the "Financial Institution" of my "choice" to confirm exactly how much money I didn't have, so I dialed the 800 number, listened to the prompts (the ones I have totally and completely memorized).  I pressed #1, then #1 again, then my 16 digit account #, then I always know they're going to ask me to type in my zip code.  Well, upon my delicate dainty careful concise input of said16 digit account #, this is where the aggravation began.  The recording lady, you know the one who belts out commands like she's a Brigadier General's wife, loudly says "You have entered an incorrect account #, please input your account # again.", in "that" voice.  Well, I give her the benefit of the doubt and I "enter my account # again".  Then Quasimodo says yet again "You have entered an incorrect account #, please input your account # again".  By now, I'm talking to the Brigadier's wife and saying "What do you mean I entered an incorrect account #?  I have had this account # for 4 years now and I KNOW the damn #!"  Quasimodo just keeps on displaying her ignorance and her total lack of flexibility and well after her telling me the same stupid thing four (4) times and me talking back to a RECORDING, I realize in place of my account #, I have been typing in my zip code.  I just hung up.  I figure they don't need to tell me what my measly balance is.  They don't need to confirm there isn't much money in there :)  I can live quite nicely without the Brigadier's wife or Quasimodo knowing my financial information, or in my case, lack thereof!

Have you ever done this?  Am I the only person who replies to recordings and on top of the replies, I also manage to curse them out a time or two?  Really, have YOU ever done this?

Who Said Little Boys Were No Fun to Dress ???

Two words that are near and dear to Bitsy's heart:  Children's Clothes and Birthday Parties (oops, that's four (4) words, but who's counting)?

If someone asked me (.......which they did NOT, but here is where the joy of blogging takes hold. When it's your blog, you can chime on in ANY subject at ANY time, whether anybody asked you about it or not.  You can throw stuff out there whenever you feel the need to volunteer needless information....).  Anyhow, if someone "bothered" to ask me just what things I enjoyed the most about having a little girl, one of them would certainly be the ability to "dress her up".  In hindsight, this particular trait is probably not my strong suit.  Every year when the Lil Momma's birthday celebration rolled around, it was a ritual.  I affectionately referred to this time period as the "Birthday Celebration Preparation Process" or "BCPP" for short.  Bitsy would take great care to select just the perfect napkins, just the perfect plates, and make certain that the bakery could incorporate the theme onto the birthday cake.  It had to all be "party perfect".

I'm pretty certain THIS hat will NEVER make it to Webb's head, BUT Bitsy could MAKE him one :)

None of that is odd, right?  Every Mom takes painstaking effort for their children's birthday parties, right?  Well, I'm not quite finished.  I had to take it a notch further.  I can only reason that I must have fancied myself a children's clothing designer of sorts.  Yep, I'm certain that's it, I was a "CLOSET" Vera Wang dying to be "discovered".  This is where it gets a little "OUT THERE".  The next part of the Birthday Celebration Preparation Process (BCPP) involved a brand spankin' new white T-shirt, acrylic paint and the "budding" artistic talent that I quite likely lacked, however "rest assured", the lack of talent never stopped me.  I would sit myself down at the dining room table, party napkin strategically placed to my right and T-shirt directly in front of me.  I would then "sketch" the design of the napkin onto the Tshirt, carefully outline it, paint it, let it dry appropriately, flip the shirt, apply wax paper and "iron it" to set the masterpiece that now resided on the Lil Momma's birthday Tshirt.  Next, I would find "just the right fabric" to coordinate with the undiscovered "Vera Wang Moran" creation and sew a perfectly gathered "ruffle" skirt onto the bottom of the shirt.  This creation "in my eyes" became just the right creative masterpiece to be donned by the Birthday Girl for her party.  Yes, you understood me.  The Perfect Party Dress had been designed, sewn and created by ME.  The Lil Momma matched her cake, napkins, plates and cups for several years of her Pre-K life.  Looking back, I'm thankful nobody mistook her for the pinata.  Looking even further back, I'm thankful the Lil Momma still speaks to me.  I'm sure there's a law concerning designing your child's birthday attire, and if there's not. . . . .there probably should be :)

What made me think of all these loving details that I'm hoping the Lil Momma has supressed all these years?  Well, truth be told, with the Webbman's First Birthday fast approaching (a mere five (5) short months away), we have BOTH been having "visions of party planning thoughts" dancing in our heads. Bear in mind, I'm sure the visions aren't quite the same.  Of course, you ALL know the "official term" for this "visionary process" and I know the "official term" for this "visionary process".  This is where being an old pro helps.  We simply just need to  break out  "Bitsy's Guide to the Birthday Celebration Preparation Process" (BBCPP).  I've been through this before, but it will be easier this time.  We won't need a ruffle.   

Who said Little Boys were no fun to Dress????? 

The Joy of Knowing He's Loved and J'Lo Aint Got Nothin' on Bitsy

I love the Bay!

Webbman's first boatride

I'm back!  OH how I've missed my blogability! No internet access for seven days somehow is just OK when you're visiting the grandbaby.  After a week in Bitsy Heaven or more commonly known as "Webbland", I've completed the journey home.  Every visit is good.  Every visit is filled with blessings.  Every visit holds joy, but despite all these things, this Bitsy always finds herself just a tad sad and in a "Bitsy funk" just knowing she has to leave.  Somehow today, it wasn't so sad.  Somehow I found today filled with the joy of things to come.  This morning, as I stopped to get my last hug, my last kiss and my last burst of Webb's infectious giggles, there HE was.  There HE SAT, flat in the middle of the living room floor.  Nope, I didn't miss this "Webbmark", or as some of you would say . . .  this "benchmark".  I was there "live and in person" to witness this amazing feat~performed by our amazing lil man.  What a joy it was to see the Webbman sitting up all by himself.

It's hard to believe, but the "sitting up" accomplishment wasn't all.  Watching the lil man sit up by himself was just the tip of the iceberg. Today, the Webbman got to go on his first boat ride, with his sunhat and life preserver topping off the fashionable decidedly "stylish" most nautical "look".  Nope, I didn't get to go on this trip but I did get to know that his PawPaw had the joyful opportunity to take him on his first boat ride.  What more fitting a day for it than "Memorial Day"?  Knowing that Webb's PawPaw, the Lil Momma, Precious and my favorite Marine, my nephew Cody, got to accompany the Webbman has made me almost as happy as if "I" had taken him - please make a note. . . . . I said "almost".  This Grandparenting thing brings out a side of you that sometimes gets stuck away in a closet somewhere - the kinder, gentler side, the side that reminds you that love is about sharing, and when you share, you find joy.  This little man has certainly brought joy to all of his grandparents.  He has enriched our lives and brought back smiles that oftentimes get put on hold in the midst of life's day to day circumstances.

I'm just sitting here wondering what they're staring at!

Let's see if I can wrap up a week in Webbland.  There were graduation parties, lots of family time, Outdoor Festivals and lots of beautiful breezy Mississippi Gulf Coast days.  There were hugs from my favorite Marine and my favorite Marine's wife visiting from California.  There were dinners with girlfriends and lots of good seafood.  As for the Webbman, Other than the everyday joys of blueberries and apples being eaten with reckless abandon, carrots and summer squash being swallowed as if there were no tomorrow and extended lengthy conversations held between our adorable lil guy and his Bitsy about "Lord only knows what", the high point for this Bitsy was just watching him smile . . . (Oh and, of course, Bitsy perfected her Jennifer Lopez rendition but with alot more butt and much less vocal ability done solely because these routines make Webb giggle and maybe a little because Bitsy enjoys acting like a fool).  Whatever the reasons, giggles and laughter were in abundance, and in this case "giggle abundance" is a darn good thing to be abundant of!

I know all babies smile, but the Webbman smiles all the time.  He stops long enough to rest his facial muscles, eat, sleep, regroup and then, he HAS at it again.  He is, quite literally, the happiest baby I have ever witnessed, and THAT I attribute to the number of people who dote, dwell, coo, gurgle, ewww and ahhhh over him.  There is just something about knowing that he is loved and cared for so deeply by so many that just makes my heart swell.  Grandchildren are certainly God's gift to a family - one for which there are just not enough words.   I can't wait to see him again, but for the next few weeks the lil man, the lil Momma and Precious have their hands full with family weddings and a trip to Florida.  I so hope they have a good time . . . . . . I KNOW the Webbman will and his smile will tell the tale! 

I love snuggling with my Rebel Black Bear, OH and SMILING.