My Right Arm

I have had two spectacular things occur in my life. Yes, I could get all into the Hallmark greeting card way of thinking and say that "Every day that I wake up and see the beautiful sunrise is a spectacular day," but I'm not. Sunrises are nice but they existed before I walked this earth and I'm guessing they will exist for quite a long time after we've all shed our mortal coils.

So, suck on that Hallmark.

I'm bringing things down to a much more personal level. I am talking about my life seventeen years ago changing drastically in the best sort of way.

I never was the kind of person to babysit when I was a teenager. I never found other people's children to be that fascinating.

At the time that my daughter was born, I had probably held two, maybe three babies in my life.

And let me tell you, labor and delivery nurses have NO sense of humor. If you make a joking comment that "Food goes in one end and the diaper goes on the other, right?" they will not be amused. Nor will any other adult in the room. (It might not be post par tum depression ladies, you might actually be surrounded by assholes.)

But I had my little girl. She was pink and round and wonderful. From her first few hours, she was already developing her sense of humor. I've never seen a new born baby picture where the

baby actually looks like she is saying "hmmmmm. Do you really think your qualified to operate that camera?"

Perhaps it was just my lack of knowledge about the whole baby-thing but I had never seen a happier baby. When I got her first real belly laugh, it made me understand what all the hoopla was about. Yeah, these baby-things can be kinda cool.

I remember the baby monitor as being a curse and a blessing. Her room was just down the hall and any normal human being would have not even bothered with it but of course, the "how to be a paranoid new mother" manual said I needed to get one.


So I would wake up at every little rustle of the blankets. That was annoying

But I would also be woken in the morning with the conversation of a happy baby with her toys. I remember lying there, listening with a stupid grin on my face as she rang the bell and turned the knobs on her busy box. I'd want to rush into her room to pick her up but I also wanted to wait and listen to her conversation.

After a few minutes, I'd come into her room and I'd be greeted with this amazing smile.
















Every day is ripe with infinite possibilities. That is one thing that I learned about being a parent.

I wanted my little girl to know that she was loved and to know that no matter what, I believed in her.

I remember actually having moments at the playground where I though, hmmmm, a good parent wouldn't let her do that because she might get hurt but, if I stop her and tell her not to climb so high, I'll be giving her the idea that she is incapable of climbing. I'll be letting her know that since the world is a dangerous place, it is best not to do things that can get you hurt.

And then I would shake my head and think, do all mothers have this struggle? I'd look around at the other mothers on the playground that wouldn't let their little girls climb to the top of the slide or worse yet, would tell their daughters "don't get dirty" while their sons were covered head to toe in mud.

"How high can you go?" I'd ask her.

And then I would casually stand beneath the monkey bars and try not to give the impression that I was the least bit concerned when I was actually terrified out of my mind.

But I was always ready to catch her if she needed me to. That's another thing I learned about being a parent.

I also learned that a broken camera was a good thing and no empty oatmeal can should be thrown away. They didn't beep or flash or do anything fancy. They just provided hours and hours of fun.

There were those hazy times, about nineteen months into the whole "first time parent" schtick when certain additions made life even more interesting. There were days when I was fully aware that this new baby-thing that I had brought home from the hospital was not necessarily appreciated, but it was none the less, tolerated.

Since we lived in the middle of nowhere, Oklahoma and I functioned as a single parent the majority of the time (STBX was in the merchant marine still), I learned to take the kids and hit the road and get stuff done.

Driving to Oklahoma City to get Christmas shopping done with two small children and no help? Piece of cake. Coming out of the mall to discover that you have a flat tire after hours of shopping and two children THAT WERE NOT AMUSED? Piece of crap. Getting a spare tire onto the car and getting the kids over to the tire place where we had to wait another hour or so for service? Piece of bigger crap.

Feeding my babies from a vending machine for the first time and telling my daughter that she could have some "fizzy juice" when it was really Sprite? Priceless. I watched her drink a pop and I thought to myself "Now I'm truly an Oklahoman. Next time, I'll have to fill the baby bottle with Coke." Not a stellar moment but we rolled with the punches.

We moved to Minnesota right before Christmas in 1995. Want to have some fun as a parent? Take two kids that have never seen REAL snow and plop them down in a snowbank as soon as the moving truck stops.

Much hilarity will ensue. And you will no doubt be the cause of their lifelong aversion to snow and cold.

But I have to side with Garrison Keillor when he says that the cold Minnesota weather makes people stronger. I've been trapped alone in a cabin with my kids for three days with a one day diaper supply and we managed. Not well, but we managed.

And I believe the sum total of our last few months could be told in the story of returning from that snow bound cabin. We struggled to get back to Duluth (after dropping STBX off at a ship up the northshore) and when we got back to lakeside, our street hadn't been plowed. The snow was up to my waist and there was not a single broken track down our street. I looked at my baby boy and my toddler girl and I realized we had no choice. I couldn't leave them behind to go break a trail and I couldn't just take one without the other.

I did my best to convince my daughter that this was just another step in our very snowy adventure. I grabbed our bags and the baby and broke a trail as best I could. This consisted of wallowing in the snow in a forward motion for an entire block, all the while telling my daughter to "keep it up! you're doing good! We're almost there!" The snow was practically over her head but she persisted. We worked together and when we reached our front door, we opened it and basically fell into the front hall and just laid there for a few minutes, collecting our thoughts.

She looked at me, lying there in a breathless heap with her baby brother in my arms and stated matter-of-factly, "I don't want to play in the snow anymore."

I couldn't have agreed more.

I think that was the origin of the dream team known now as the Harkness Family.

Sometimes the snow can be over your head and all you can do is the best you can do. Forward momentum and warm woolen mittens can be the most important in life.

That and the realization of just how much you are loved.

For seventeen years, I have known the most amazing woman on the face of this earth.




Happy Birthday my dear.

My Needs Are Simple And My Wants Are Few

I'm all dressed up, spiffy-like today. I'm on a mission from God. (Don't tell God, he'd be really pissed to find me as his representative.)

Not only am I wearing make up but...*GASP*...a dress. Granted, it's a dress that I got for $5.00 at a rummage sale but hey, I think it came from somewhere special at one point in its life. (I'm such a brand whore!)

ANYWAY, I got dressed to the nines and THEN took the dogs for a walk this morning. I had visions of tripping in potholes or falling over hedges but the worst thing that happened is that I felt like I was competing in Westminster.

"And now, the competition for the best butt sniffer, all the way from Duluth, MN a duo team of mentally retarded Corgis that have managed to escape the small bus..."

Yeah, I'm not an expert at how the announcements go at Westminster but I'm sure I'm pretty close.

I must admit one thing this morning: THIS IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVAH!!!!!!

And I've only been awake for an hour or so. Not bad, eh?

I love the innernets. I got a ton of birthday messages even before I got out of my jimjams. And I had a bunch of text messages too.

It made me feel so warm and cozy.

I can only recall a couple other birthdays that made me feel so nice. One was when I was at a different job and unbeknownst to me, they planned a potluck and everyone brought in delicious food and it was a really nice party. The other time, my co-workers at the very first real job I had gave me special things that reminded them of me. Not store bought anything, just special things. A good friend gave me a seashell that made a lonesome sound when you listened to it and by feeling lonesome for just that moment, she realized how many good friends she had in the universe and what a lucky person she really was.

Or at least that's the explanation she pulled out of her butt when she handed it to me.

I loved it because in something so simple, she found the heart of me.

If it weren't for the times that we felt alone and powerless, we would never appreciate what we really have.

What do I want for my birthday? Nothing. I am the wealthiest woman I know.

I have wonderful siblings, beautiful friends, fabulous kids and four stupid pets that make me smile every day.

I am blessed.

And there will be balloons and a pony and a pinata...

You need to visualize this...you just went to your mailbox and you have found a sparkly postcard with something like a rainbow and a unicorn and a fairy princess riding the unicorn over the rainbow and in bright purple letters it says

"You're Invited"

That's me, inviting you to be on the veranda of Hacienda on September 23 at 6 pm.

I am declaring it margarita and cinnamon chips night in honor of my birthday.

This year has been crap-on-a-stick. I have never, in all my soon-to-be 41 years had as many life changes as I have had over the last nine months.

The next year will be better.

And this is how it will start.

Keep in mind, Hacienda is a small place and we must be able to sit outside if we are going to be comfortable so you can get me one thing and one thing only for my birthday...Good Weather!

Ha! It's not like I ask for much now, is it?

Notes From The Bunker-Day 2

Tomorrow is my birthday, my 40th to be exact. I had an idea to talk about losing 50 (pounds) and turning 40. Yes, I have reached the 50 pound weight loss mark. And for the past two days I've been flat on my back with what I can only describe as Ebola meets Black Death. Wooo hooo! Now pass me another box of kleenex and brew up some lemon and honey for I have just passed a large gerbil out of my respiratory tract. I think I will name him George.

As I lay marooned on my bed, I find myself reaching for the only reading materials that I can get to without lifting my head. Why, it's the pile of books that I got from the Friends of the Library booksale in Two Harbors!

My favorite book has to be Aunt Jenny's Favorite Recipes which was a promo put out for Spry "It's Triple Creamed!" Vegetable Shortning. If it weren't for the internet, I wouldn't know that Aunt Jenny was an advertising icon for the Lever Brothers (of soapy fame) in the 30's-50's.

She also appears in several other cookbooks and frankly, I find her obsessive, folksy knowledge of Spry Vegetable Shortning a little frightening.














Here's the cover of my cookbook. Now how does the husband and wife get on the cover of the cookbook holding a copy of the cookbook in which they are on the cover!!!
AUUUUGH! Spry Vegetable Shortening is being promoted by WITCHES!!













What's really funny is that there are some things I see in this cookbook that my mom did, like lathering the baked potatoes up with vegetable shortening. I'm pleased to announce that certain family traditions have ended with me, this being one of them. Another one? Meat loaf. My children have never eaten meat loaf. When I mention to them that we used to have it at least once a week, they get a little pale and sweaty which was my reaction when I saw the pennywise steak recipe. Shape your hamburg' like a steak and slather it with shortening! Where are we, Great Britain??















Why is the major selling point of this shortening the fact that it's digestable? Was there a plague of IBS in the 30's-50's? Maybe they ate too damn much shortening!









Now, I really have to question this one. What mother didn't have time to bake their kids cookies back then???? I'm guessin' Aunt Jenny squeezed out quite a few strappin' lads to help out with chores so all she had to do was bake cookies for all the neighborhood kids and talk smack about their lazy mothers who wouldn't crawl out of the bottom of a bourbon bottle to make a damn dozen cookies for their plentiful offspring that did nothing but roam the neighborhood all day, causing trouble, and becoming the kind of kids that your parents warned you about. I'm guessin' Aunt Jenny didn't hand out cookies to just anyone...















Here is some obvious insight to what is really going on in the Spry Vegetable Shortening Household. Can anyone say Menege et trois? Yeah, Jenny got creative with Spry Vegetable Shortening in ways that the Lever Brothers would never have imagined.












Don't worry Mr. Postman, Jenny can solve all your problems with a little Spry Shortenin!













You can tell by that look in her eyes. Aunt Jenny was a whore.

Let's cut to the chase...Spry Shortening! It get's you laid!
Now go out and get yourself some fun!