Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Virtual Coffee: Five

If we were actually have coffee today, we'd really be having something more akin to a sleepover.

Or haven't you heard? We're in for a blizzard.

I know.

I kind of rolled my eyes when I first heard the word blizzard, too.

After all, don't those weather forecasters know that we live in Chicago and not Siberia?

But, from the looks of the weather radar and my first-hand experience of trying to drive to and from the doctor this morning, I'd say those forecasters might be onto something.

The wind is really blowing. Mix heavier snow in, and I think we'll have ourselves a bonafide blizzard.

So, be thankful you're only here virtually.

That's the last I'll peep about the weather, I promise. I know everyone is beyond sick of hearing about the infamous Groundhogs Day Dump 2011 <--- that's what I heard they were calling it ... whoever they are.

If we were talking in person today, I'd most likely hug you and thank you for the birthday wishes yesterday. You know, Facebook and texting can really make you feel like a rockstar on your birthday.

All of the little notes and wishes very much helped carry me through a tough first birthday without hearing my dad's voice and his rendition of how I was born in a snowstorm and how he named me despite my mother's hesitation.

Since you don't know the story, I'll share. About a decade before I was born, while my father was waist deep in bell bottoms and listened to rock and roll until his ears bled, he saw a B movie where one of the main characters, a witch, was named Hyacinth.

Now while he never shared what state of mind he was in while watching the movie, I have a feeling the name seemed much cooler than what it would have to say you or me, if you know what I'm saying.

So he clung to this name for almost 10 years before my mom surprised him with the news of a baby bun baking in her oven. My dad somehow twisted my mom's arm and got her to agree that if the baby were a boy, she could name him. But if the baby were a girl, he would name her.

Now he did like one other name, but my mom totally cabashed Layla, as she didn't want people crooning the Cream {Eric Clapton} song to me for the rest of my life. And so when I turned out to be a girl, my father got his wish, and he had a daughter named Hyacynth.

That story? It's one I've kind of always told light-heartedly, simply just breezing through it, saying that I was named after a witch in a '70s B flick.

But now that my dad is no longer here to tell it, well, I think it should be told in its entirety.

So thanks for letting me share it.

Other than a birthday and a barfing toddler, things around here have been quite normal:

G. offered to make me a poop cake for my birthday.

My sister was thoughtful and brought me some home-made, mama-made puppy chow in which I could drown myself while listening to the musical prodigy showcased after she taught our resident toddler to play the cymbals with pot lids. Birthday serenade

And hubby. Well, he took pity on me and my puke-covered, cymbal-serenaded self and surprised me with a 30-minute back massage last night.

Seriously, I'm thankful to have another year with these people I love.

The only last bit of exciting news centers around the kids and I escaping this snow globe with my mom Sunday by beginning our drive to sunny Fort Myers, Florida, where the temperature is currently 82 degrees.

Yes, I said 82 degrees.

And, yes, I said drive.

Pray for me.

No, seriously.

Pray for me.

What about you? How've you been? Are you enjoying record snowfalls?

As always, Amy is such a gracious Virtual Coffee host. To share yours or read others, visit her!

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