Random Thoughts and Musings

Dear Mama Nature:

You and I, we need to have a CTJ.

This is FLORIDA. We’re known for our mild winters and so-hot-they’re-scorching summers. We held up our bargain and didn’t threaten you during the summer. Why the hell are you torturing us with 20-something degree weather and icy stuff coming from the sky?

You’ve had your fun w/the snow flurries, icy cold mornings, and bitterly cold winds. When I traveled to Boston in Dec 08 for work/play, I was warmer than I am now, sitting in my bed.

Please, put our weather back on track!

Love, Angeles

When I lived in Cali, I was dating Adam, who was stationed about 6 hours north of where I lived (we’d previously been stationed together). On our “off” weekends, which were three-day weekends, we’d swap making the drive to see each other. Generally, this meant we saw each other six days out of the month. On one of my trips up north, we drove into “the City” for dinner (this was a fairly typical event for us). We walked around downtown San Francisco for a while, stopping in on a poetry slam, a book reading, a chocolate festival, an art festival, then browsing several bookstores, and finally coming to a Thai restaurant. The scents wafting from inside had drawn us across the busy street, past all of my normal favorites. Once seated, I was unsure of what to order, and decided to try something completely new to me: duck curry. I had not ever eaten duck OR curry, had coconut milk in foods, or tasted bamboo shoots. It seemed like a great place to start!

This particular evening kick-started my love for curries. I have had several versions at different kinds of ethnic restaurants, but nothing has ever come close to that first meal. Even more surprising, it was a *red* curry, which I typically dislike - I far prefer the flavors of green and yellow curries.

Now, when I want a curry fix, I head to the Bangkok House, a restaurant in the next town over.(Unless, of course, I can get Billy to make it for us here… not having to leave my second home is far preferable. ;)) They typically have two or three curries on the buffet at lunch. I have discovered that I do *not* like potatoes in my curry. I like BH’s red curry, because it has coconut milk and is more orange than red. I love that they cut their bamboo shoots into short straws instead of slices. And, most of all, I love the service. While spaghetti is my favorite meal to eat at home … I think curry is my favorite meal to eat out. No matter where you go, it tastes different or has different ingredients. There is always something new to discover.

I need a personal chef who makes me curry once a week at home, just like the curry at Bangkok House. I think life would be pretty damn near perfect!

What is YOUR favorite food to eat out? Do you remember the first time you tried it?

xoxo

Selfishness must always be forgiven you know, because there is no hope of a cure.
~Jane Austen

The other night, Rena and I had a “fight.” I spoke, she pouted/whined/spoke back, I got angry at her for acting like a spoiled brat, and then we texted for an hour, working it out (I find it easier to get her to talk when not face-to-face, especially if I am already angry at her and trying not to yell).

It was a silly argument: she has clothes in her closet that she does not wear. Most of these are clothes she has asked for at some point. They are all clothes that are beautiful, and none are clothes that I forced her to choose against her will. I have asked her before to make sure she starts wearing more of her clothes. She tells me things like, “it doesn’t fit anymore,” or “I don’t really like it - I only bought it because I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Uhm, excuse me: it would have fit six months ago if you would have worn it when you asked for it, and I do NOT exert “motherly control” over your wardrobe!

The “fighting” portion of this scenario ended with me ripping (ok, removing with her permission … “ripping” sounds more like what I wanted to do!) the sweater off of her person and throwing it in the garbage to show her what a waste it was for her not to wear it. (It is in the laundry now, folks - I did *not* throw my money away literally! Besides, my niece loves the damn sweater and will be thrilled to wear it!)

Later, in our text discussion, I told her I was angry because I asked her to wear a sweater before it got too small, and she felt like she needed to argue/pout/whine about it. I let her know I did not EVER want to see that behavior again - she knows it angers me, because we’ve discussed it when we have seen other children treating their parents that way. I also let her know I felt like such an attitude was the display of a spoiled, ungrateful child.

My parents did not give me a choice with my own clothing growing up. I always swore I would not treat my own children that way. I have always given Rena choices, and allowed her to express herself however she chooses through her hair and wardrobe. On the other hand, I hate wastefulness. I do not want to be spending what little money we have on something that will go to total waste. It is frustrating and depressing.

I feel like maybe my working so hard to ensure she doesn’t feel deprived has gone too far. I think maybe she is a little spoiled. I’m cooking up a little plan in my head, and I hope to implement it soon. If I do, you know I’ll blog about it! Until then, I am going to remove all the clothes from my daughter’s room that she doesn’t wear. When she ONLY has the choice of the handful of items she wears, I’ll bet she’ll start wanting more options. And when she does, she’ll realize that maybe she needs to listen to me more often and start wearing more of her clothes!

(Thinking on it now, I am realizing the problem is her liking something and wanting to wear it, then realizing her friends probably won’t approve, and chickening out. She’s done that with a few other things before, only with those it was more obvious because she bought items or put together outfits for special days at school - crazy hat day, mismatch day, twins day, etc - then decided at teh last minute not to wear them. I’m obviously going to have to talk to her about peer pressure in relation to even the smallest of decisions.)

This whole scenario represents the lowest of lows in parenting. I shouldn’t have lost my temper - I’m still not sure why it affected me so deeply, although something hormonal is likely, considering the timeline. I do know that while I am not proud of it, and despite the fact that I’ve had a few “friends” on Plurk tell me I’m a shitty mother, I am glad it happened. I’d rather confront her spoiled attitude over something small, rather than have it be displayed over something that truly matters in the scheme of life. At least now I have the opportunity to guide her in another direction!

Feel free to tell me your thoughts in the comments — good and bad.

xoxox

So often in my life, I am surprised by the love and kindness displayed around me, towards me, and even by me. I grew up in a world where I was taught to believe everyone had a motive, and I should too. I dislike the negative things that make people human, but I choose to believe that there are more good than bad people in the world.

I have been touched by so many people in my life, it is overwhelming. Whether it be a kind word from a stranger in a post I make on a social network, or a bear hug by an old friend, or even a phone call or text message from someone who is thinking of me but with whom I have not spoken in a while, I have found the “good” in thousands of people in my life.

Today is a day that commercially is about who gets the most candy or biggest diamond. It is a day that most people view as being for lovers to profess their emotions.

I am choosing to make it a day to focus on telling people what they mean to me, or how happy they make me. This is not all-inclusive. I could not possibly include everyone who has filled my heart.

For my best friend: I am *not* an easy person to be around. Even when I am not upset, most people think I am snapping or barking orders. She knows me, and (usually) knows the difference between my being upset and my just being me. She’s also the one person who truly knows the lengths I will go for the people I love. She herself has gone beyond most people’s greatest length to support and love me. I think we make a great team, and I love her more than she’ll ever know.

Luckily, her husband is tolerant of our friendship. Over the years, he and I have also developed a friendship outside of “my wife’s best friend” or “my best friend’s husband.” He knows I’ll be there for him, too, and that I do not choose sides when they differ in opinion. He has come to me from time to time, knowing I’ll tell him what I think and not just what I think Christy wants him to hear. I’m glad we were able to come to this place, and I love him dearly. Not only for what he is to my best friend, their children, and my daughter. But also for the person he is, and the friendship we have.

My sister is an incredible woman. I remember when she was young, how ornery and demanding she was. I remember people asking me if I was jealous of her because not only was she beautiful, but she had a great relationship with our parents (unlike me). I also remember that while jealous might have flared up from time to time, it never lasted more than a minute. I loved her too much to be spiteful over anything she had or achieved - I always knew she deserved every bit of it. I was in my 20’s before I realized how much she looked up to me. We were separated a few years by family strife, and when I was welcomed back into my parents’ home, we began to talk again. She would ask my advice and talk to me about what she was thinking, feeling, and doing. I loved those late nights, snuggled up in her big bed, laying awake way past when our parents would approve, whispering so as not to get caught. I was already a mother, and we had lost our brother. We are so completely different, and yet fundamentally the same. I love when I find a similarity, because it renews my knowledge that we are sisters, despite my feeling so removed from her. I may be *much* older than her, but I will forever look up to her. She is the woman I know our parents intended both of us to be, but she accepts me for who I am even though she may not approve of the choices I make.

Friends who stick around. I made a friend when I was stationed in Jacksonville who has taught me a lot about myself, about life, and about how much I truly enjoy life. He and his family brought things out in me that I didn’t know existed. I love that even when I can only show up at midnight and stay until morning, they welcome me home. We stay up and talk, and then I wake in the morning to continue on my way and stop in the next time I’m in town. If I had traveling money, they’d be first on my list for a weekend trip with Lil Lady. We love visiting with them, and we love that they are just as much family as my BFF & her family.

My daughter, who I love with every fiber of my being, brings out the best and worst in me. She challenges me and forces me to rise to the occasion, all without realizing she’s even doing so. She brings sunshine into my life and reminds me why I choose a life of struggle over one of financial ease. I was always told, “One day you’ll have a child and you’ll understand.” I *do* have a child, but I *do not* understand. I am thrilled to know that I had the where-with-all to “break the cycle” and do things differently. Mostly, I am grateful to be her mother.

My “social network” friends, who are as friends as friends can be. They may not be physically close, but they are just as much a part of my life and my heart as they would be if they lived next door. They challenge me, inspire me, support me, and love me. They are kind, loving, generous, opinionated, funny, sarcastic, open-minded, accepting, and beautiful. I have had the great pleasure of meeting a few of them in person, and have not once been disappointed in what I find once we’re face-to-face. I can be myself with them, and not worry about being judged. I know that if they did not *want* to be on the other side of that window/page/timeline, all they have to do is click “remove” or “delete.” I know we are connected not by accident, but by choice. I love them for the quality they bring to my life, quirks and quills alike.

I was blessed with more than two parents. I have not always viewed it as a blessing, but even as a child, I usually knew I was lucky. I love each of my parents for who they are and what they bring to my life. They are all unique, and have different methods of communication and parenting. Each of them formed me into the person I am today, and I am grateful for their love and guidance. They are all beautiful people - complete with faults. What I consider my greatest gift is being able to see the intent behind their actions and love them even more.

I have been reconnecting with a few friends from my past lately. I’m really enjoying this, especially the few fun night’s I’ve had with one in particular. One of those nights, we went through old photos from high school and relived those memories. The laughter was beautiful, and the stories we each remembered were touching. I love that someone I chose to love way back when is someone I can still love today. Time holds no barriers: this is the test of true friendship, IMO.

The last person I will specify doesn’t read this blog. He barely knows I exist anymore. However, I love him with my whole heart and I wish things could have been different. I needed something from him … and he needed something from me … and both of us needed it before we could make the move we wanted to make. It is much more complex than that, but the fact is: I love him, and would have given the world for him, if he could have only told me he loved me. We still talk now and then, via text. I love those short conversations. Maybe there will be another chance in the future. If not, anyone else in my life has a lot to measure up to …

Thank you all for helping to make my life one that I love!!

xoxox

So, my BFF, the kids, and my friend Kristine got their wish: it snowed in NW FL. Unfortunately, Kristine was at work in a part of the area that did *not* get snow (sorry honey), but I took a few pictures of the moist white stuff that floated down from the sky.

No, it isn’t anything spectacular compared to an area that sees real snow. Keep in mind - it is only blog-worthy because it only happens a time or two each decade. The last time I remember seeing snow here was in 1990, but it was a very light dusting, didn’t even float all the way to the ground. However, in 1989, when I first moved back from England, we had a light snow very similar to today’s.

Click HERE to see what our excitement was all about.

(For the record, I was *not* excited … but it turned out to be a very light snow, and stuck around even less time than I feared, so I was quite comfortable.)

Mom would smack me if she knew I was outside in bare feet, a strappy tank top, and a skirt. LOL No, not even SNOW can make this FL gyrl put on more clothes!

xoox

Tonight, i found out a friend of mine tried to commit suicide. It saddens me that I have been so removed, I wasn’t around to talk to him. It saddens me more that he felt this was his only recourse.

My friend, you are important. To me, and to others who know you. Please, reach out to us to at least talk. We may not be able to fix things, but maybe we can help inject some humor into the situation.

xoxo

So, last week when I went to pick up the flea treatments for the two kitties (who are both VERY pleased with me, by the way!), I checked with the Vet to see if Willow D. Kitten was old enough to get his shots, now. When we first acquired him, he was too young to receive them, because his body would have just rejected them. I also knew I had a credit on the account from the last visit, because I had paid in advance for certain things to be done (and the person who gave us the kitten also paid in advance for certain other things).

I asked about the credit, and what it would cover, and what shots the kitten would need. I was told he would receive a rabies & other vaccines, and he would be tested for feline leukemia & other diseases, and the total would be XX amount of dollars. I had four dollars MORE than that in my account, so I set up the appointment.

Yesterday, I rushed home from a short job just in time to pick up Willow D. Kitten and scoop him into his kennel and rush him to the local animal hospital, where his Vet works. We got inside, and he was scratching at the kennel like crazy to get out, so I scooped him up and cuddled him. He looked around a bit, then lay his head down on my arm and just relaxed. There were no other animals in the waiting room, nor were there any in the exam rooms ready to come out.

Suddenly, he started hissing. I leaned forward to open his kennel, and he swatted at my face, getting his claw stuck in my lip. He freaked out, continued hissing, and kept jerking his paw - the claw still attached to my lip. My eyes teared up, but I grabbed his paw firmly and pressed on his pad, while trying to speak calmly to him and settle him down. I set him back in his kennel (I wanted to toss the lil shit - I was bleeding all over the place), and grabbed a tissue to clean myself up.

I have NO IDEA what set him off - nobody was in the waiting room, no animals were present. I think he just caught a sniff of something he didn’t like, poor thing (little friggin devil).

We get into the exam room, and I set his kennel on the table, warning the tech that he’s a little feisty and I am unsure what exactly is the cause of his distress. She said no problem, she would pull him out of the kennel and put him on the exam table so if he got more upset, they wouldn’t have to reach into the kennel to get him out - thereby putting their hands at risk of being sliced open 500 times. She reached in, and he came out just fine, so she closed the kennel and reached over to pet him.

He started hissing and spitting again, and backed away from her, calming down only when he heard my voice as I spoke to him in low tones. He looked at me a minute, then lay his head down on his paws and waited for whatever was next. The tech laughed it off, then was able to pet him. As soon as she tried to pick him up by the scruff, he spazzed out again, and she set him down, looked at me, and said to just let him be for a few minutes til the vet was ready.

The Vet came in about ten minutes later, and Willow D. Kitten and I had been playing with a crumpled up piece of paper and a hair tie, so he was relatively calm. She was able to check over his body, his paws, his eyes, and the inside of his mouth without incident. Then, she tried to lay him down to find his vein, and he started screaming.

Yes, SCREAMING! He sounded like a child in intense pain (later, the front desk personnel and two of the other customers said they thought someone had been attacked by one of the aggressive dogs or had fallen and broken a bone). He screamed each time she touched him, and fought her off like he was a trained boxer with claws.

I grabbed his blanket out of his kennel, threw it on top of him, and scooped him up. I let him pop his head out, but not get loose. As soon as he stopped screaming, and was only meowing, I put him back on the table - with the blanket - for them to try again. The vet grabbed his four paws and held him down, relinquishing one paw to the tech, who had to pull it open to find the vein. Willow D. Kitten was screaming the whole time, fighting, scratching the hell out of them, and managing to get away over and over again.

Finally, the tech threw the blanket over him, muscled him into position, and the vet drew the blood for the test. I was in tears by this point, and Willow D. Kitten did not stop screaming until they put him down and stepped away. The Vet explained we had a ten-minute wait, and then they could give him his shots if he was healthy.

Another ten minutes go by, I find out my baby is healthy as healthy can be, and they have a syringe with medicine they need to give him to deworm him. I crack up, because they’re worried about him taking it. I open his mouth, squirt in the liquid, and he licks it all up. No problem there - he’s been fed medicine before, for his respiratory issues (because he wasn’t nursed by his momma, he had a few issues when I first got him - they’ve all worked out as he ages though).

Now, for the tough part. They have to give him his shot. While this does need to be given in one of his legs, at least they do not need the vein this time. The vet muscles him down in about 3 seconds, Willow D. Kitten starts screaming, and just like that - they’re done. WHEW!

He continued to scream for a moment, to make sure they weren’t going to grab him again. Once he realized they were really done, he stood looking at his kennel door. I opened it up, he went inside, I arranged his blanket, he curled up and went to sleep.

I was still in tears, I felt so awful for him. Talk about a stressful Vet visit!

Not one of my other cats has EVER caused a ruckus like this. If I have to go through this every few months, I am going to need a new heart!

Anyway … as we checked out, I was told I owed XX amount of dollars, after my credit. I didn’t understand why the person last week had told me I would be covered, but now suddenly I owe this much money. I was quite upset - especially when they said, “Oh, and you need to return in 3 weeks for a booster. It’ll also be XX amount of dollars.”

What the fuck? Why didn’t they just tell me that before? Now, not only did I spend money yesterday, but that money is going to go to waste because I do *not* have the funds right now to get the booster. I *might* have them within a couple of months, but that might also be too late. I am quite annoyed.

Asi es la vida. If I can manage to afford the booster, I will. If not, I’ll wait a couple of months and start over. They really need to be up front and tell you EVERYTHING you’ll need to pay for within the first few weeks and let you know when your next exam/shots/whatever will be coming up, so when you prepare for one you can start preparing for the other, yanno?

So - this was why I was grumpy and frustrated yesterday. I think the $$ thing would not have been nearly so upsetting if Willow D. Kitten hadn’t been so horrifically terrified during his appointment.

When we got home, Willow D. Kitten ran straight to Rascal Lee Kitten, who hovered over him and glared at me (quite unnecessarily, thank you - I felt awful enough!) like I was the one sticking needles into the little guy.

Jeezman, I cannot catch a break from the Kitten clan!

xoxo

I SWEAR my life is a comedy of errors.

Today, I could only work for about 3.5 hours. I had to make sure I got home in time to pick up Willow D. Kitten to take him to the vet to get his shots and get tested for feline leukemia. In the first 3 hours, I managed to paint two full walls, two hallway walls, three partial kitchen walls, and two partial bathroom walls. Not bad, considering all the cutting in around stuff that needed to be done.

I wanted to spend my last 20 minutes working on the white semigloss trim on the baseboards and ceiling trim (the word escapes me right now, tho I’ve said it 5 billion times - including at least 10 times on Thursday/Friday of last week). I grabbed the can of semigloss, went over to where the front door was, and started painting. I opened the door to see if I could paint the door trim without causing the door to stick, and slipped on something greasy on the floor. I landed ~hard~ on my ass, and the white semigloss went EVERYWHERE: the brown front door, the tile floor, two of the walls I’d just painted a yellowish color last week, the ceiling, the glass door, the cabinets, the counter … and on my arms and my face and in my eyes.

Holy HELL paint burns.

HOLY HELL was I frantically cleaning it up before it dried anywhere and made more of a mess!

I need a do-over on this morning, please!

Off to the vet I go.

xo

Tonight, my BFf hosted a birthday party for me. Her sister, June Cleaver, her brother (my boss/M), and their mother were all there (along with June Cleaver’s two boys & BFF’s four kids). We had a spaghetti dinner (nummies!), complete with garlic bread, salad, and sweet tea.

We opened presents (ok, I did) - June Cleaver & her two boys got me a necklace/earring set. C got me a necklace that says ‘angel” in English & Chinese (from China in Disneyworld). Mama got me the box set of the first four Janette Oke movies. Or, the movies made from her books. LiL K made me a birthday card … she drew a princess, a girl, and wrote my name (or, yanno, something that was meant to be my name ;)).

After presents, I was presented with my cake. BFF worked all afternoon on it - a chocolate cake with homemade chocolate icing. She had put flowers on the cake to decorate it, and she’d put a basket weave pattern all around the edges. Delicious, beautiful, perfect.

After cake, we played Trivia Pursuit. I think I answered two things. My team member, thankfully, is a genius with random knowledge, and we won. WOOT! (Go, M! You rock!)

The game finally ended about 10:30, and we were all exhausted … so then we came home. And, like a good lil Devyl Gyrl, I logged on immediately to tell you all about it.

xoxo

So, after my dream the other night, I had snakes on the brain. Real snakes, people, this is no euphemism! LOL

I remember the first run-in with a snake I (indirectly) had. I was young-is, 8 maybe? I had seen snakes before, but they were all in the distance, or non-poisonous, or behind glass where I could admire them without danger.

This particular day, though, my grandmother’s dog, Prissy, would *not* let me go inside. I couldn’t figure out why she was being so obstinate about letting me through the carport to get to the door. I decided to walk around to the front door, but she wouldn’t let me near that one, either. Finally, I started banging on the side of the trailer-portion of the house, trying to get someone’s attention. When nobody answered, I walked around the back, to where my grandfather had built on a two-room addition. I banged on the window, and told my grandparents and parents that I couldn’t get inside. My (step) dad tried to come out the door, but Prissy threw herself against it, and started barking furiously. Suddenly, she swung around and faced inside the carport, barking and growling and lying low to the ground. I tried to walk up behind her, and she swung around to me, snapped, and then swung back around and lunged at something. I heard her yelp, and screamed for my (step)dad and grandfather to come out and help. They looked under the trailer portion of the house, both of them rearing back suddenly and swearing, rushing inside and grabbinbg guns. My grandfather was hollering for my grandmother to call Mr. Jimmy from next door and the neighbor from across the street, and for everyone to bring their guns.

My (step)dad hollered at me to go across the street immediately. This whole time, Prissy is barking furiously and lunging at something under the trailer. I get across the street, and Miss Angie drags me in the house and slams the door just as she shoves her husband’s gun into his hand and tells him to run. I hear three shots a few moments later, and the phone rings - it is my Mom, telling me I can come home.

I rush back, excited to see what was happening, and see Prissy lying in the driveway, my grandfather and grandmother crying over her, my mom hysterical on the phone with someone, and my (step)father trying to calm everyone down so he can look at her. I screamed at them, asking who shot her. They all stopped what they were doing (except my (step)father, who was working furiously over Prissy still) and then pointed to the carport. I looked, and in front of my grandfather’s car, I see a HUGE ASS FREAKIN SNAKE.

Turns out, a diamond-back rattler had slithered out of the woods and under the house. Prissy had been trying to keep me safe (and my family, too, when they walked out), and had decided to stand down the snake rather than let him at me. She was bit twice, in the ear.

Mom was apparently on the phone with the vet, who was out of town. He directed her to an emergency vet, and she hopped in the car with Prissy and my (step)father (who was still trying to keep her alive), and off they raced. She died, twice.

Luckily, she was revived both times. They had to medicate her, keep her overnight, and give her bulldog blood in and emergency transfusion because she had bled out so much. She, literally, fought to her death. If my (step)father hadn’t been breathing for her and doing chest compressions, she would not have made it - he kept shocking her heart and kept the oxygen in her system. She was technically dead before they even left to go to the vet.

While my parents took Prissy to the vet, my grandfather took me over to the snake. I was hysterical, because Prissy was dead (this is before we found out she would be okay), and he told me he loved her, but was happy she was there to protect me and take the bite, because he would have never forgiven himself if the snake had gotten to me.

I was heartbroken until my (step)father called to tell me the vet saved Prissy. She was deaf in her left ear, and went blind in her left eye a couple of years later, but lived for another few years (she was old when this happened - at least as old as me, but I think older).

That rattlesnake was more than 6 feet long. It was beautiful, but I could not see the beauty that day … it was not until later, after it was skinned (for a belt/purse/boots/whatever) and we’d eaten the meat and put the rattler out to dry (or, whatever you do to a rattlesnake’s rattle to save it for a souvenir) that I realized how beautiful a creature the snake had been.

I discovered that I keep changing the date of my blog to “2010.” Apparently, I am anxious for the new year to be rung in …

Willow D. Kitten keeps attacking the window in my living room looking out onto the back porch, and the window in the door leading out onto the porch. I couldn’t figure out why, so today I sat for a while, biding my time, waiting for it to happen again. As soon as it did, I got up to stand behind him, so I could see what he was seeing. Suddenly, he leapt into the air, trying to grab onto …. MY REFLECTION IN THE GLASS. Dork kitty … apparently, he’s been chasing the kitten in the window this whole time!

Lil Lady spent an hour looking for her cell phone. She went through every room in BFF’s house, retracing her steps, thinking about the places she would have set it down if she had done this, or that, or the other. Eventually she found it: in her pocket. In the jeans she had been wearing ALL DAY LONG.

Gotta love those d’oh moments in life!

Social networking gives us all a medium to share our personal thoughts, worldly ideas, and business ventures. There are plenty of all kinds of people promoting businesses: spammers, selfish self-promoting sycophants, celebrities, small businesses, large businesses, chains …

Then, there are the people who try to make the world a little brighter, a little lighter, a little more special. Sometimes they direct their ideas at the world in large (erase poverty), sometimes to smaller groups of people.

One of my favorites is @SavvyAuntie on Twitter.

We first met because she caught wind of the Baby S ordeal last year, and the small things I tried to do to help my BFF & her family get through the horrible ordeal they were going through. At the time, @SavvyAuntie had not yet started her venture, but it was in the works. I remember when she told me what she had in the works, it brought tears to my eyes.

I think that EVERY person who gives extra love and attention to children deserves a day for themselves, to be smothered with love and adoration and treated to something special. @SavvyAuntie has set up “The first community for cool aunts, great aunts, godmothers, and all women who love kids.”

So, for all of you women who dig the little munchkins in your life … run over and take a look: SavvyAuntie.com.

For all of you men who are wonderful uncles and godfathers and such … keep up the fabulous job, and know that we know you are out there and we admire you greatly.