My Kath, My BFF, My Split Apart, My Partner in Crime

Nae, Kath, Beck (The only one missing is Sarah Jean, as usual. We can never pin that woman down.)

Good friends are like stars. You don’t always see them, but you know they are always there.-Anonymous

She’s a tiny bit of dynamite. She’s got a gutter mouth and a dirty, dirty mind. She’s most definitely my kinda girl. Her dark hair, tiny frame and big laugh drew me to her. Her son and my son, they used to be BFFs. They were inseparable for a time. So naturally we were BFFs too.

She’s moving away. But in my heart, she is still here with me. We all are. We’re still swim mommas. We’re still trying to raise our babies the best way we can. We’re always going to be wild, crazy, bawdy broads. She’s leaving to be with that wonderful and handsome husband of hers. He IS a company man. A good provider. Cute as the day is long. A good man, and funny too. Her children, all of them almost grown, are beautiful creatures.

I call Kath June Cleaver. She is the most domestic of the four of us swim mommas. She works hard to keep her family together. I envy her in some ways. I’m a domestic goddess, but I don’t thrive on it like she does. For  She makes domesticity look fantastic. Har!

She has held my hand, my heart, my secrets, my tears, and my happiness. I have done the same for her. We will continue to do so till the end of our lives. She completes me. She may be in Tennessee with that wonderful husband and family, but part of her will always be here with me in the T. Wherever our travels lead us, part of our hearts will always be here together. Taking care of each other, and our families. We are the family we chose after all.

I love you Kath. You’re my sister. Never forget that. You are my sister. I love you forever and ever. No matter where you are…..

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I’m a Domestic Goddess, Dammit!

I call myself a Domestic Goddess-Roseanne Barr

How do I start this lovely post. Hmmmmm. Well. Let’s see. I was young when I got married. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I was domestically challenged. I had a lot to learn. Fortunately I had a good teacher. Roger Darling was the best. Not the most patient. He laughed at me a lot. Which in turn made me cry. But then we became a good team, he and I. I’m writing on this subject because as I was getting the clean laundry from the dryer yesterday I realized that I had somehow washed and dried a roll of toilet paper with it. Who the hell does that??? Me. ADHD Girl on caffeine. I couldn’t seem to slow down enough to realize that I had grabbed a roll of almost depleted TP and threw it in with the wash?! Thankfully, it didn’t shred in the washer or the dryer. AND it didn’t get stuck on all of the clean clothes so that I had to re-wash them. Whew! It did however bring up some funny memories of other Domestic Goddess SNAFUs.

Like the time we were hanging wall paper and Roger told me to go make dinner for us. I had never cooked for him before. It was just hamburgers for God’s sake. But there I was standing in the kitchen, crying because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I would have rather hung wall paper. I KNEW how to do that. Roger Darling walked into the kitchen and saw me bawling. Hugged me and said, Honey it’s only burgers. We’ll cook together. It kind of led to a marriage long love affair with cooking together. I love to cook now. I think I’m better at it then he is. Really.

Or the time I was washing whites and I threw in a light colored shirt of Rog’s. When I pulled it out of the wash it had turned as white as the socks and dish towels that I washed with it. Guess I wasn’t supposed to use bleach on it. OOPS! Roger just laughed and shook his head. He said not to worry. That I’d learn. And learn I did. But I can tell you I still don’t like the whole Domestic Goddess thing. I’d rather have a root canal some days.

Another good laundry story from back in the day. Roger worked the midnight shift. It was the morning of his bachelor party and my bachelorette party. I had just gotten up and was doing laundry, running around a bit and cleaning. He asked me to iron his pants that he was going to wear to his bachelor party. I was a young, jealous girl. I didn’t like the fact that he was going to a strip club. I turned and looked at him, told him, point blank he could iron his own fucking pants! In no uncertain terms was I going to help him have a good time watching naked chicks dance. Nope, it wasn’t going to happen. And it didn’t. He DID iron his own fucking pants. Ha!

23 years later I’ve kind of gotten the hang of this Domestic Goddess title. I like the fact that Roger Darling and I are partners in housework, laundry, outdoor work, parenting. I never, ever felt like I was doing more than him. There have been times that he’s been more domestic than I have. It’s in his nature to nurture. Me, not so much. I’m a little flighty. But with Rog’s help, I’ve learned so much. And I keep learning. I’m thankful for such a patient, and helpful teacher.