What would Judi do?

LETTER FROM A MOTHER TO A DAUGHTER: "My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”... Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep. When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl? When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way... remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day... the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, bu

Every Thanksgiving is kind of the same.  We think about the things for which we are thankful.  We eat just about the exact same food  every year.  Once in a while I shake things up by making green beans instead of peas but mostly it's the exact same thing.  Growing up, my brother and I would balk if there were any changes.  My mother wanted sweet potatoes.  No.  That's not okay.  My aunt would make some sort of jello mold.  There was no way in hell either of us would touch that.  (We both boycott Jello.  Always.  It's a forbidden food in our homes.)  Dinner consisted of turkey (white meat only), stuffing (preferably stove top), gravy (on potatoes only), mashed potatoes and peas.  There was also pumpkin and cranberry bread.  Oh, there was cranberry sauce - Ocean Spray in the shape of the can only.  And none of my food can touch.  Ever. I'm a little more flexible now.  If there's gravy on the stuffing, it's okay.  Salad instead of peas works.  I make banana brea

You can't go home. There's no place like home. Home isn't a place, its a feeling. Yes. All of that. Going home, to Lansdale, this past weekend was interesting. I brought my boyfriend for the first time. I don't bring people home. My home people don't visit me in Maryland. It's like there's a line at the border of PA and Delaware that doesn't get crossed. We crossed it. I'm so glad we did. I haven't been home in a few years. I've been homesick during that time - many times. I know I'm homesick when I dream about Main Street. Or McDonalds (in those dreams I am once again in 9th grade and sitting in a booth after school with my friends). Or being on the ice at Melody Brook. I don't have those dreams often but they still do come once in a while. They're like old friends to me. This is the longest period of time I haven't been home in the nearly 20 years since I left. It was strange at first. Awkward. I

Transforming my sweet (most of the time) little ones into zombies wasn't hard and it was a ton of fun. Here's how we did it. Start with liquid latex.  It's kind of as gross as it sounds.  And it smells.  But it's worth it. Paint it in layers on in the areas you want to have a wound.  Dry it on a cool setting with a hair dryer. Then using tweezers, pull it up and rip a hole in it.  This is the wound. Using "blood" paint, make the wounds.  Paint the inside of the hole and add globs in there.  Clots look good. Using white theatrical paint and a make up sponge, pale out your subject.  Then add dark eye shadow around the eyes and on the cheek bones to hollow out the cheeks. For lips, you can use an eyeliner pencil, lipstick or leave them alone.  My kids didn't love the first two choices so we left them alone. Voila.  You have creepy.