Today kicks off one of my favorite times of year. November is #bloglikecrazy month over at See Jane Write and it’s always fun to get to know my writing sisters even better during this time. We strive to blog every day during the month of November.
I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve this year so I am really hoping to do it! With a month-long challenge for Birmingham Girls Club over on Instagram going on, as well as my own personal meditation challenge – a la Deepak Chopra – this will prove to be very interesting. But I think I can do it!
I’ll also be moving more this month, too, care of Jennifer over at Stellar Fashion & Fitness, SOL Dance Experience, and – hopefully – some swimming. We have the Mustache Dache coming up in a few weeks and I’d really like to participate this year if I can.
So, welcome to November and off we go! At least we got an hour back last night. 😉
P.S. Also, in a completely unrelated, yet hilariously funny side note, I accidentally had a few typos before proofing just now: “sleep” instead of sleeve above, as well as “medication” instead of meditation. I wonder if my body is trying to tell me something about sleep and medication. 😉
Who’s excited about the Magic City Classic and all it brings to our beautiful town? This girl! That includes parties, parades, pep rallies, THE game, and the annual Magic City Sip and Shop to be held on Wednesday, October 28th from 5:30PM – 9:00PM and sponsored this year by GlamPop, BridgeStreet Gallery & Loft, Savoie Catering and Urbanham.com.
BridgeStreet (213 Richard Arrington Jr. Blvd. South) will transform into the ultimate Girls’ Night Out boutique party with features like a Polish-Bar where nail polish changes will be provided for the “girl-on-the-go”, as well as free massages for those that prefer a little stress relief in between their retail therapy. The Magic City Sip and Shop will not only provide a unique and entertaining shopping experience in an unconventional setting, but it will also serve as an information source for those fashionistas looking for the latest trends in beauty, fashion and wellness.
The Magic City Sip and Shop event was created to broaden brand awareness of small businesses in Birmingham and the surrounding area and to provide an opportunity showcase their products and services in a beautiful boutique setting. Complimentary hors d’oeuvres will be provided by Savoie Catering and music by DJ Nacio! This premiere event will be the “must attend” life style event of the season.
Whether you’re a fashionista on the go or a stay at home mom, there will be something for everyone. Be prepared to sip, shop, and socialize in the company of several exclusive specialty vendors with lots of great beauty products, jewelry, clothing and accessories! They even have some special surprises in store!
The event is open to the public, but advance ticket purchase is recommended as this event will definitely sell out! Tickets are $10 in advance and $15 at the door. You can purchase tickets at www.MagicCitySipandShop.com.
It seems the world is all abuzz with the new song from Adele and her upcoming album. I heard “Hello” yesterday for the first time. The timing of the song couldn’t have been worse for me (or better, depending on how you look at it). I’m not shy about my private life and pretty transparent. I recently alluded to some “mother issues” that I’m starting to tackle with my new therapist and this song was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
A little background: My mother and I have always has a strained relationship, mostly due to her alcoholism. It was a bitter pill to swallow growing up, always coming in 2nd, 3rd, or not at all, and I finally got some reprieve when she sent me to live with my dad when I was seven years old. But I still saw her every year during summer and the disease always reared its ugly head in some way during my visit, usually multiple times. A few years ago I couldn’t take the mental abuse anymore and the toll it was taking on my life here in Alabama – even from Wisconsin – and had to end my relationship with her. I sent her a letter wishing her love and the care that she needed and a good life, but that I could no longer be a part of it as long as she was drinking. World’s Worst Daughter, step right up! The few friends I spoke to about it tried to reassure me that self-care is important too, as well as my sanity, but I still felt like crap.
Fast forward a few years to now: Therapist wants to start talking about her. Crap, fine. Whatever. I don’t want to, but you know what’s best. A week ago Friday…”talk to her, Sherri. What do you want to say to your mom?” That was followed by a pretty short tirade from me about abandonment, alcoholism, my sister (who had to live with her and deserved so much more), harsh memories and examples, wishing her well and that was it. The therapist was wonderfully empathetic after and understanding that I gave what I had and was indifferent now. Or so I thought.
The following day my sister messaged me that mom wanted my mailing address. What? Who? NOW? What are the odds? WHY DOES SHE WANT THAT? I DON’T WANT TO OPEN PANDORA’S BOX AGAIN. Four days later I received a note from my mother, who hasn’t spoken to me in years (I did try once), with one word on it: “Truce?”
What is she trying to do to me? We’re done with that. We aren’t fighting, so why do we need to call a truce? That letter threw me into a mental whirlwind and I didn’t know how (or how I WANTED) to process it. Therapy appointment made? Check! That was Thursday. Friday I heard “Hello” for the first time. At my desk. At work. BIG mistake. That song, while I’m sure about a romantic relationship, hit me like nothing I’ve ever heard before and sent me into an emotional tailspin. Every feeling about my mother that’s been welling up in the past week, and likely the past 3 years, came rushing to the surface as I heard Adele ask to meet, realizing they are running out of time, and talking about how sorry she was for breaking their heart. I sobbed in the bathroom at work, clutching my mom’s letter, and trying to make sense of what was going on in my head and heart. After a few minutes I composed myself and got back to work. But that song has haunted me ever since.
Those words could have written for me. By my mother. More importantly, to me, those words should have been written to me. By my mother. Did I just want acknowledgement and a heart felt apology? Is that what I have been longing for after all these years? I’m not sure, time will tell. In the mean time, here are the lyrics. I am hoping one day I might hear them from my mother.
“Hello”
Hello, it’s me
I was wondering if after all these years
You’d like to meet, to go over everything
They say that time’s supposed to heal ya
But I ain’t done much healing
Hello, can you hear me?
I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be
When we were younger and free
I’ve forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet
There’s such a difference between us
And a million miles
Hello from the other side
I must’ve called a thousand times to tell you
I’m sorry, for everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never seem to be home
Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried to tell you
I’m sorry, for breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore
Hello, how are you?
It’s so typical of me to talk about myself
I’m sorry, I hope that you’re well
Did you ever make it out of that town
Where nothing ever happened?
It’s no secret
That the both of us are running out of time
So, hello from the other side
I must’ve called a thousand times to tell you
I’m sorry, for everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never seem to be home
Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried to tell you
I’m sorry, for breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore
Hello from the other side
I must’ve called a thousand times to tell you
I’m sorry, for everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never seem to be home
Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried to tell you
I’m sorry, for breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore
We all have baggage – emotional, physical, otherwise. I’ve led a charmed life, but it wasn’t easy and it has been constantly overshadowed by the dark relationship with my mother. I won’t go into the details – they are far too lengthy and boring – but my husband, father, sister, and therapist know most all of them. More and more is coming out during sessions with my new therapist and she is, quite frankly, working miracles in me. I have had many therapists through the years, for various reasons or another, but this one is simply working wonders. She’ll tell you it’s not her – it’s God – and I believe that, but she’s still the vessel and a very talented one at that.
All that to say this, my dad raised me. I was extremely lucky to move to my dad’s in Alabama, from my mother’s in Wisconsin, when I was 7. So he has raised me nearly my entire life. Memories with my dad are many and happy….annual trips to Six Flags with a stop at Denny’s, periodic trips to Disney World, card games on Friday nights, reading books together, testing out new songs for him on the mic in the front room while he listens from the living room, showing off my trumpet playing and baton and flag twirling skills for him when I learned something new, weekend trips to the mall with my friends with ice cream stops after, watching TV together, learning new things on the Mac and in his businesses, and so many more. Every holiday was amazing, school, work, and family were important, and he sacrificed a lot to make sure I had everything I needed and participated in every activity I wanted to growing up.
As a child and teenager, I didn’t appreciate his constant giving. He always seemed glad to do it and never once did I hear him complain about money, chauffeuring me to and fro, or my constant needs. He covered me in hugs, values, and love. As I started my adult years, I began to grasp a little concept of what it was like to be an only parent raising the opposite sex. Now, as I get into my 40s, the appreciation I have for him raising me by himself grows exponentially every year. I can’t imagine what it was like as a man raising a little girl, the nuances that come with that like hair, makeup, BOYS(!!), periods, sex, hormonal changes, emotional changes, etc. He handled everything with grace and dignity, never abandoning me or flailing for answers.
There will never be enough time to tell him just how much he means to me or how thankful I am that he raised me. He instilled the most awesome values in me, taught me how to fiercely love, how to live life and have fun, how to be compassionate to those less fortunate or in need, and how to be the best person I could. I hope I have made him proud so far; I will continue striving until the day I die because he is the example I excel to be. He is my hero and my everything. Today, on his birthday, I want him to know that I received the best present ever – him as my father. I love you, Dad. Thank you for loving me.
I recently flew (on a plane) for the first time in many, many years. To say I don’t like to fly is an understatement. I DON’T fly. Period. I drive everywhere, including up and down the country to WI and back to see my family.
With my new job came new responsibility and one of my goals for this year (the big 4-0) was to fly again. I knew I *may* have to fly this year with the new job, but it wasn’t a given. Until they told me they were sending me to a conference (which I am VERY grateful for). Being terrified of flying and also going somewhere new, I stocked up on the Xanax (thanks, Doc!), got some breathing exercises from my therapist, and hubs dropped me off at the airport armed with a dragon and a kiss.
Let me tell ya, Xanax is WONDERFUL! I wasn’t nearly as nervous as I would have been and I was actually excited to get on the plane, headed for new land. The flight was non-stop (oh, I wasn’t taking any chances on my first foray back in the friendly skies) and it wasn’t bad at all. I hate takeoff the most – after that, I’m pretty good and landing is fun b/c I CAN SEE LAND. lol.
My first time in Las Vegas was everything I had hoped, sans the walking. I’m pretty sure I walked more during my week in Vegas than I have in any other time in my life. It was painful (plantar fasciitis), but worth it. The conference was amazing, the mountains were gorgeous, the Strip was alive, and I had some of the best food and saw the best show (twice). You can follow my adventures on Instagram under the hashtag #VivaRossVegas.
There are some awesome & crazy people on Fremont Street!
Now, the plane ride home was not as glorious. I came home with way more than I went with so I had to buy some extra luggage to lug all my chachkies in. In my panicked packing frenzy of trying to stuff everything into bags, I accidentally packed my Xanax into my checked bag. I didn’t realize it until I got to the airport, checked in, and went to have a bite to eat and take a pill. No pill. Don’t panic, Sherri. Just have a cocktail (or four) and call it a day. The cocktails worked a little magic until our flight was delayed over an hour because “a passenger has a medical issue and we’re going back to the gate.” Aggghh! By the time we actually took off, I was my old, neurotic, nervous self rocking back and forth in my seat with my hands holding my earbuds as far into my ears as they would go and my eyes closed tight. I really looked special. Thankfully, the sweet veterinarian sitting in my row offered up a plastic stress dog that, when you squeeze him, his eyeballs pop out. What fun for a crazy person! I squeezed that dog so hard his head nearly popped off. Takeoff was rocky (for me), the trip was ok, and I was happy once we started to descend.
All in all, a very good trip and yes, I will fly again. With Xanax. And probably other things. But hey, I reached my goal, marked that off my bucket list and my ‘To Do at 40’ list (along with walking around Vulcan), and BOOM, I lived to tell about it. All that to say, you can do anything you set your mind to. I *could* have driven to Vegas (and seriously mapped out the road trip when I was first told I was going), but I put my extra large big girl panties on, took a few deep breaths, and flew off into the sunset singing, “Viva Las Vegas.” Join me next time!
