Airing Dirty Laundry

for all the world wide web to see

Mike’s language of love results! September 30, 2007

Filed under: family — airingdirtylaundry @ 9:47 pm

Your Detailed Results:
Physical Touch:  8
Words of Affirmation:  8
Quality Time:  6
Receiving Gifts:  5
Acts of Service:  3

I knew it!  I knew physical touch would be one of Mike’s highest results!  Surprisingly, I didn’t even have to ask him to take the test.  He read my blog on Friday night after I had gone to sleep and then casually mentioned to me on Saturday that he had taken it.


The language of love September 28, 2007

Filed under: secrets — airingdirtylaundry @ 2:17 pm

I saw this little quiz over at OMSH’s blog and thought I’d check it out.

My results:
Words of Affirmation 10
Quality Time 8
Acts of Service 5
Receiving Gifts 4
Physical Touch 3

Kinda makes me seem like a cold, heartless, greedy bitch doesn’t it? Praise me and tell me how good I am BUT DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!  I’m not so sure I like this quiz.  Maybe because there’s just a hint of truth to it?  But just a hint!

I am most curious to see what Mike’s results would be–my guess is the polar opposite of mine.  But just how do I entice him to take the quiz?


Renew September 19, 2007

Filed under: family — airingdirtylaundry @ 10:30 am


Originally uploaded by airingdirtylaundry

Mike and I are renewing our vows in February as part of Pittsburgh’s attempt to get in the Guinness Book of World Records. Next year will be a year-long celebration of Pittsburgh’s 250th anniversary since the city was named in 1758, and an estimated 1000 couples will renew their wedding vows at Carnegie Music Hall in Oakland. As exciting as it will be to be a part of the event, it will be even more meaningful to be saying our wedding vows to each other once again, just a few blocks away from where we said them to each other in 1999.

Although I’d love to be able to fit into my wedding gown again (ha!), the backup plan is to wear our Steeler jerseys. How sweet would it be for the Steelers to win the Super Bowl one weekend, and for Mike and I to renew our vows in Big Ben and Hines Ward jerseys the next weekend?


Crazy weekend

Filed under: friends — airingdirtylaundry @ 10:19 am


Originally uploaded by airingdirtylaundry

Good friends, good times, good food, good drinks, and just plain FUN!

The three of us seriously needed a “girls weekend”–time to catch up, share stories, bitch about everything under the sun, and guess about what the future may hold.

Next trip will be a spa weekend in Phoenix, or possibly Michele’s Mardi Gras party. Or both in one weekend!


The cat’s going away and the mice are going to play! September 13, 2007

Filed under: family,friends,Vegas — airingdirtylaundry @ 8:51 pm

The “cat” (meaning Mike) leaves for Vegas tomorrow morning.  As much as I’m going to miss him, I’m certainly not going to sit around the house moping.  Some of my favorite “mice”, Michele (from Phoenix) and Christine (from Seattle) are spending the weekend with me and we’re going to have “girl time”!  Some of my co-workers are coming over tomorrow night for dinner and to hang out with us and have a few drinks.  And then a few more.  And then a few more after that.

Saturday we’re going to do all of the touristy Pittsburgh stuff.  Go to the Strip District and Station Square, take the incline up to Mt. Washington to check out the view, and maybe even the Just Ducky tour if the weather cooperates.  Saturday night we’re going to a bar near my house called the Beach House.  It just opened up not too long ago, and I’ve never been there.  On the website, it looks like it’s targeted towards the younger, bikini-clad crowd, but it’s supposed to be cooler this weekend, so hopefully the bikinis will be covered up by long-sleeve shirts.  Not that I really give a crap anyhow.  The only reason I want to go to the Beach House is to see Gary Belloma, a Pittsburgh tradition.  I haven’t seen him perform in YEARS, and the crazy blues-y music he plays is exactly what I need right now.  I figured Christine would appreciate his music since she’s originally from New Orleans, and Michele . . . well. . .Michele could have a blast doing anything at all.

So as much as I will miss my wonderful husband, at least I have the girls to hang out with and make the time go by faster while he’s gone.  And I hope he has a great time on his “guys weekend”, stays out of trouble, and misses me as much as I’ll miss him.  Oh yeah, and Mike, if you could hit it big while you’re out there, I’d be more than glad to meet you there when Michele and Christine leave on Monday!


Guilty September 12, 2007

Filed under: family,secrets — airingdirtylaundry @ 3:49 pm

I found out yesterday that my aunts are having a surprise birthday party for my grandmother at the end of the month.  It’s on a Sunday, a 3-hour drive from where I live.  I opened up the invitation and sighed audibly.  My first thought was that I didn’t want to go.  We have a prior commitment for that Saturday night, which would mean gettting up early on Sunday, driving 3 hours for the party, and then driving 3 hours home late that night, and getting up early for work the next day.

Then it hit me.  She’ll be 80.  She’s been in poor health (although good spirits) for years.  What if, God forbid, this is the last time I would see her before she dies?  Am I the most ungrateful little brat to think that her party is an inconvenience in MY life?  My grandfather passed away 11 years ago and she’s been on her own ever since.  My dad and aunts don’t live all that far away and do what they can for her–shoveling snow, taking her to doctors appoinments and the store, etc.  And here I am, one of only six grandchildren, debating on whether I should go to her party or not.  We have  such a small family, and I’m beginning to realize that she’s at a point in her life where she feels that her family is all that she has left.

And someday I will be 80 and wishing that my grandchildren would show up at MY party.  Except that my grandchildren will probably still be in diapers then because I’m 33 and no-damnit-I-don’t-have-children-yet-thank-you-very-much-for-asking.  But that’s a story for another post.

So we’re going.  And somehow we’re squeezing in a visit to my other grandparents (my mom’s parents) while we’re there.


Remembering 9/10/01 September 7, 2007

Filed under: family — airingdirtylaundry @ 5:05 pm

Mom and me

Yes, you read that correctly–it was not a mis-print. I did not mean 9/11–a day that rocked the world. I meant 9/10–a day that rocked MY world. September 10th 2001 is the day my mother died. She was 48.

In 2000, she was diagnosed with cancer, which by that point had spread to her liver. It was controllable for the time being, but not able to be cured. I lived 3 hours away and started to go home to visit more than I had in the past. It took something like that–the big C–to make me get in my car and visit my family on a regular basis. And keep getting in my car. And keep driving back home to see her.

After spending most of her adulthood on various pills for various illnesses and issues, she had been worn out and worn down by pills and doctors. Even though she was now faced with even more pills and more doctors, finding out she had cancer is what it took for her to appreciate her life, accept her fate, vow to make peace with those around her, and live what was left of her life to the fullest. And keep living. And never show the fear of death to anyone around her.

At first, there was no noticeable deterioration. She had more life to her than she had had in years, it seemed. As time went on and her condition seemed to stabilize, I went home less and less. Instead of every week, it was every other week, and then every third week. After working a 50+ hour week, sometimes it seemed like too much trouble to get in the car and drive 3 hours. To fight traffic. To spend all that money on gas and tolls.

One day early in the summer of 2001, my father called and said that my mother was getting worse and had actually been admitted to the hospital. He never said the words, “Come home.” He’s not the type of man that would ever come right out and say it. We got off the phone and I decided right then that I needed to go. I didn’t call him back to tell him I was coming. I threw some clothes in a bag, got in my car, and drove straight to the hospital.

The woman in that room was a fraction of the woman my mother had been. Chemo had sucked the spirit out of her, sucked the weight off of her, sucked the hair off of her head, and made every breath an effort. It took everything I had to pretend that she still looked like the woman she had been, that she was still the mother I had always known. The woman that I had played “dirty Scrabble” with while I was at home on a break from college. The woman who had to pull the car over one day because we had a laughing fit over something and she couldn’t drive. The woman who gave me life.

She could still talk and was fairly lucid, although she tired easily. She cracked jokes about the bandana on her head and how she needed a cigarette. From that point on, I went home every weekend.

Although it didn’t seem like it was even possible at the time, she got worse. Quickly. The changes I noticed from week to week were bizarre. She went from eating small amounts of food at the table, to having to be wheeled to the table, and then was bedridden. After another stay in the hospital, she was released to go home. Hospice came to help administer her medicine and my grandmothers and grandfather would spend a lot of time there, but I always felt that my dad, my brother, and I were on our own in some ways. No matter how many people came to help, they weren’t there to hear her moaning throughout the night, delerious sometimes. And the nights were the worst.

One night when my father was away from the house for a few hours, I wheeled my mother into the living room to watch TV. She stared at it blankly, and asked for one cigarette after another. Which I gave her. I gave her whatever she had the strength to ask for. I would have given her a trip to the Bahamas if the words would have come out of her mouth. That night after I got her into bed, she decided that she had to go to the bathroom. The house was small, the corners tight, and the toilet was tucked back into an alcove barely wide enough to sit down in. It took all my strength just to get her there. She cried while I wiped her, and as delerious as she sometimes was, I knew that she understood what was happening and was troubled that she was putting me through it. I cried too, knowing that we had come full circle. Twenty-seven years earlier, it had been HER wiping ME.

I somehow got her back into bed, careful not to touch the bedsores that got worse each day. Her stomach had become oddly distended, and her skin had the yellow hue of someone whose liver was slowly shutting down.

The next weekend, she had become completely confined to her bed. A kind neighbor who was a nurse demanded that she be the one to change my mother’s diaper and clean her up. She knew that my mother would appreciate that someone outside of the family was doing it, that’s what she told us. I later realized that she was sparing us, not my mother, from the difficulty.

The weekend after Labor Day, I was sitting with my mother alone while my father was in the garage working and my brother was sleeping. My husband was sitting in the living room watching TV. Each breath she took, she held for what seemed like minutes. And with each breath, I silently prayed that it would be her last and that she would be released from her pain. I realized I hadn’t really said goodbye to her. I had talked to her about medications and visitors and sponge baths and bed sore creams, but I hadn’t said much of any consequence.

So while I was alone with her that Sunday night, I said my goodbyes. I told her how much I loved her, I told her that I would miss her. And that she would always be with me in some way, just not here next to me. I told her that it was OK to go. That I would take care of whatever needed to be taken care of. That she was free. I walked out to the living room and looked at Mike. Without a word, he stood up and we walked out to the car. We drove back to Pittsburgh.

The next day, September 10th, Mike started a new job. That evening, we had just finished dinner and were talking about his day and about how he didn’t think the job was going to turn out to be what he wanted. The phone rang. I froze. Mike answered and then handed the phone to me. It was my father, calling to tell me that she was gone.

Even though I knew that the day was coming eventually, it didn’t make it any easier. I cried as if I had found out that she had suddenly dropped dead from a heart attack. I shook uncontrollably, in shock. I was 27, married, a homeowner, and had a steady job. But I was mother-less now, and I felt nothing but young and unstable. I needed my mommy.

Later that night, I realized that she had waited for me to say goodbye. She had waited until she was alone with my father to pass peacefully from this world. She had waited until I told her that everything was OK and that I knew she would always be with me.

And she is.


Short post this time . . .I swear September 5, 2007

Filed under: Uncategorized — airingdirtylaundry @ 8:15 pm

My stat counter proves to me that people are reading this crap that I’m writing, but apparently it’s REALLY crappy, because there’s quite a dearth of comments. I know I’m new to this whole blog-thing, but right now I’m kind of feeling like it’s high school all over again and I’m sitting at my lunch staring at the “popular” table. Always on the outside looking in. Really, I don’t DESERVE your comments, especially since I just started making them myself on some of your blogs, but I wouldn’t mind a quick “hi, howya doin'” now and then just to reassure me that this stat counter isn’t defective and giving me false hope. I’m really anal-retentive and weird about the whole comment thing myself–I like to read through a person’s archives and really get to “know” them before I make a comment. So if you’re as OCD as I am, at least I made it easy on you and don’t have a lot of posts. Unless you’re waiting for a lot of posts from ME, so that you can get to know me before commenting.

Blogging is stressful.


Addicted September 1, 2007

Filed under: books — airingdirtylaundry @ 10:18 am

I stopped at a Barnes & Noble last night (yeah, I know, the exciting Friday nights I have).  I was by myself, about a hour away from our house and had some time to kill while my husband was at a fantasy football draft.

I love books.  I always have.  I won every damn summer book reading library contest throughout my childhood.  I can lose myself in a book and be totally oblivious to everything around me for hours on end.  I never get “tired” of reading.  I get tired of cleaning the house, but never tired of reading.  If you’d see my bookshelves and my perpetually dirty house and piles of laundry, you’d be able to fully understand.

But once I’m done with a book, I basically forget it.  Details and character names from a book I just finished will fade into the distance once I open the next one.  I may be able to recall general plotlines, but that’s about it.  Only few books have touched me and intrigued me to the point that I can describe the book to another person in terms more explicit than “Well, it’s OK, I guess.  But let me tell you about the book I’m reading RIGHT NOW.”

Because of my fascination with human perception, and because I was frustrated with not being able to ABSORB a book entirely, I started reading memoirs.  I’ve found that I’m able to retain more, relate more, and enjoy them more than your run-of-the-mill novel.  These are REAL PEOPLE.  And reading a certain memoir led me to that person’s blog, which led me to another person’s blog, which led me to another person’s blog, which eventually led me HERE.  So I like memoirs.

Where is this leading to and what does it have to do with my trip to the bookstore on a Friday night, you may ask?  At Kerflop’s suggestion, I decided to check out the first book in the Stephenie Meyer Twilight series.  How in the world had I not heard of these books before?  What rock have I been living under?  Really, I do need to get out more.  You would think that someone who spends the majority of every day on the computer and who loves books as much as I do would have once thought to check out a bestseller list or two.  I had seen the newest book in the bookstore, picked it up, saw that it was about vampires, and put it down because I don’t like fantasy and vampires do not interest me at all.

Anyhow, back to my point . . . After just reading “a page or two” of Twilight, I’ve found that I quickly discarded the library book that’s due back on Tuesday in favor of it.  I can not put it down.  Good thing I’m an all-or-nothing kind of person, because I bought all three of the books.  They don’t stand a chance.  I will sit here and read them all straight through, and I’m already thinking about how I’m going to start over again as soon as I finish the last page of Eclipse.  I DO NOT READ BOOKS TWICE.  EVER.  Harry Potter?  One trip through, and I haven’t even touched the new book yet.  It’s been put on the back burner (behind the library book that it looks like I’m going to have to renew).

You know why?  These people/vampires are REAL. To me, at least.  I will remember these books after they’ve sat on my bookshelf for years.  I will be able to describe them in detail to other people.  REAL, I tell you.  REAL. Memoirs of a vampire, in a way.  Thanks Kerflop!