Still rolling after 20 years

In the beginning, it was all about the game. Twelve women, once a month, three dice.
(Correction: Twelve women, once a month, and five dice since I got the number of dice wrong at first.)

We came together to play Bunco, a mindless, dice rolling game. A modern day bridge club meets poker night. We put up five dollars at the door and hoped to leave with some cash in hand by winning most triples, most wins, most losses or the coveted Bunco Cup.

At first, we needed an escape from our responsibilities as young mothers. The average age of our children was three. We needed a night to ourselves. No husbands, no children. Just a lady's night.

Back then, many of us were just acquaintances. Now, as we celebrate our 20th anniversary, we are more like the Ya-Ya-Sisterhood.

And though we never took an oath by candlelight or cut our hands to become blood sisters, we might as well have. We've shared each other's successes and each other's failures. We've supported each other in times of heartache and moments of celebration. We are what our families fondly call us, the Bunco Girls.

Walking in the door each month reminds me of the theme song from the old TV show, "Cheers." They're always glad I came. When I'm happy, they are happy for me. When I'm sad, they support me. But most importantly, when I'm mad, they tell me I am right.

Month after month, they have complimented my hair cuts and noticed when I've been exercising. Better yet, they've ignored my dark roots and overlooked when I've put on a few pounds. They cheered me on when I turned 40 and again when I turned 50.

They cried with me when I lost my father. They cried with me when I lost my brother. They even cried along with me when I lost my sweet family dog. But most of all, their tears have come from laughter...over a deer in the headlights, a man named Howard...just about anything you could imagine.

In the early days, we toiled about sending our kids off to preschool, we celebrated adding new babies to our families, and we helped each other navigate the waters of motherhood.

Twenty years later, we've stressed over sending our children off to college and out into the real world, we've welcomed our first grandchild, and we've continued to help each other navigate the changing tide of motherhood.

As everything in our lives has changed, our Bunco night and our friendship has been a constant... once a month, every month... and hopefully for the next 20 years.

A wise Bunco Girl once said, "We've all been on the same train." 

“Of all the secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood the most divine was humor.”

― Rebecca Wells, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

I heart Valentine's Day

I love Valentine's Day. In the middle of funky February, Valentine's Day offers a touch of warmth with its bright red hearts and cute little cupid. Some folks think of it as a Hallmark holiday. To me, it's a day of fond memories and funny misunderstandings all in the name of love.

February 14th was my grandmother's birthday. I treasure the memory of sitting with her on the front steps of my house when I was a little girl. I slowly shared all the treasures I carried in my mother's big, hand-me-down purse. While I don't remember what we said to each other, I do remember the feeling. I felt loved and special. She must not have called me "hard-headed" that day which she often did.

The date also reminds me of the day my sister married the love of her life. As the 13-year-old maid-of-honor, I wore white socks with sandals because I hated my feet. My sister could not have cared less. She was just happy I was standing next to her. She didn't mind me smelling of my favorite lemon perfume either. Lemon? Really? I've always appreciated her love and acceptance.

The day has also brought a few misunderstandings of the heart. I can laugh about them now.

In kindergarten, I decorated a large white envelope to collect Valentine cards from my classmates. Once home with my Valentines, I excitedly looked at each one. I was having the time of my life until I opened the frilly one from Billy McDowell. On the front was a pretty girl holding a bouquet of flowers. She looked like a bride. The sentiment said, "With all my love."

My older siblings were relentless with their teasing. I grabbed the Valentine and ran. I hid it between two albums in my parent's record cabinet. Years later while going through a box of my old things, I found the envelope of Valentines. I also found the tiny, white envelope with the fancy Valentine from Billy. Apparently, my mother had found it and put in my box of keepsakes. I actually still have all of them stored away in a box in my basement.

Looking back, I don't think Billy loved me at all. I think he just randomly dropped a Valentine in my bag. My name wasn't even on the envelope. And, after all, he was only five. He wasn't ready for marriage. However, I should have known better when I was a junior in college.

It was Valentine's Day. My boyfriend called from the telephone in the lobby of my college dorm (no cell phones for loving boyfriends back then). "I need you to come downstairs," he said. I knew at that moment what he wanted. He was going to ask me to marry him. On Valentine's Day no less! We had only been dating for four months but I was ready to say, "yes."

We walked to his car. A silver Mercury Monarch. "I have something for you," he said. I already knew what it was. Something round and gold with a sparkly diamond on the top. And then, he presented me a framed picture of us dancing at his sister's wedding.  We were smiling as he dipped me in my fuzzy, yellow, lambswool dress. He also gave me another frame with little hearts painted on it and a little statue of the cartoon character Ziggy in the corner.

Oh! A Ziggy frame! 

He was so happy with his thoughtful gifts. I treasure them to this day. I didn't tell him what I thought he was going to give me that day until much later. Most probably after we had been married a couple of years.

I love Valentine's Day and the memories of special times with my family, of misunderstandings of the heart, and my "Valentine" I've kept for the last 30 years.

Happy Valentine's to my husband, my children, my family and friends!

Be My Valentine!

A plus for winter

As a kid, I was strangely proud of the fact that I could spell the word, "hibernate." At any given moment to anyone who would listen, I blurted out, "I know how to spell hibernate." Then, in an annoying up and down voice, I began. "H-I (deep breath) B-E-R (a gasp for air)  N-A-T-E (sigh)." Apparently, spelling a nine letter word required a high pitched voice and a great deal of breath .

Years have passed and I no longer feel the need to spell the word "hibernate" in an odd, out-of-breath manner. I do, however, feel the need "to" hibernate. I have had enough of the cold temperatures hitting me in the face every time I walk outside.

I do not want to wear a scarf. I do not want to put on gloves. I do not want to zip my coat and wear a hat. It's the middle of February and I feel like I'm the main character in a Dr Seuss book. It's too cold to go out so all I can do is just stay in the house and just sit, sit, sit, sit.

What I'd give for a big cat in a hat to stop by for some amusement.

Show me what you got, cat.

I'll admit. I like living in an area where a white Christmas is an actual possibility and I appreciate the idea of a change of seasons. I just need winter to be about two months shorter.

At this point, everything looks gray... the sky, the atmosphere, my hair. And, everything appears lifeless... the grass, the trees, my face.

Every time I look in the mirror I can't help but break into song. "Who is that old la-dy staring back in front of me? "It's my version of "Reflection," from the Disney movie "Mulan."

Christina Aguilera's lyrics are about what a young girl sees in herself as she looks into the mirror. I've altered the words to accurately describe my reflection. My song features an old woman with dry, wrinkled skin and flat, lifeless hair. Her hands are cracked and her nails are brittle. All the cruel affects of the harsh winter weather.

I know spring is coming. It always does. Unfortunately, though, according to that irritating groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, the forecast for an early spring is out the window.

But, something good has come out of writing about my dreadful feelings about winter. I now know how to spell Punxsutawney.  Glad I didn't brag about that one when I was an annoying kid who didn't care to use a dictionary. I would have breathlessly spelled it wrong, "P-U-C-K (deep breath) S-A (gasp for air) T-A-U-N-Y (sigh)!

That's one for winter!

Can you spell, "This sucks?"