With Taurus as my horoscope, theyll be no denying that I amFerdinand!
I have been receiving some very caring messages lately from many of you, my readers, and I wanted to thank you.
I say this with the utmost sincerity. I am so thankful for you, my beautiful friends, who keep on reading regardless of all my imperfections, sending me love when I need it most. Without you, I could not do this.
But not to worry, my family and I may be living with a deep sadness and concern for the road we are heading down that will inevitably take us away from Old Snowmass, but we are still laughing and I am stomping about life with a smile. I attribute this to my incredible husband, friends and family who help me to find humor where I might otherwise miss the joke.
Thats what Ive been told anyway, that Im a stomper, not a dainty flower? delicately swaying in the wind, but a stomper, barging, smashing and often diving in to whatever comes my way.
I had an epiphany at the grocery store the other day. It was after I had published my latest post about The Aspen Club & Spa. I had ten minutes in which to race through the aisles before picking up the boys at the bus. I ran in, my cape flying behind me. The shopping cart would not release from the stack and so I began to aggressively tug and shake, using my full body strength to try and release it. Fume, snort, stomp, tug. Fume, snort, stomp, tug. An elderly man, watching me with detached amusement, finally came over and lowered the latch that was causing all the trouble. I looked at him blushing and he smiled, swaggering off with an “Oh yeah, I’m the man,” sort of gate. Yeah, he was a hero alright, for helping a dumb beast of a mom, with a cape on. My husband always says Im like a bull in a china shop, I shouted after him to let him know that I knew what he was thinking.
Its true too. With Taurus as my horoscope, they’ll be no denying that I am true to form. I often laugh when I notice somebody hugging the wall to let me pass by, lest I run them down. I’m certain that being bull-like attributes to my aches and pains. I have taken many a body slam when going full force.
In the mornings I barge into the boys rooms, kissing them gently on the cheeks. A snort of steam escapes my nostrils after inhaling the scent of strewn candy wrappers, coiled up socks and dirty boxers strewn across the rooms. Thumper demands me out and then guiltily pulls me back in, by the ring in my nose, to cuddle. Hootie-Hoo moans and groans that he needs more sleep as I paw at his covers and Feisty-One, feeling my daunting presence hovering over him, gets up and dressed with his eyes still closed.
I stomp back into Hootie-Hoo’s room to make sure that progress is happening, if not supervised, he tends to float up to another world. As I suspected, he is sitting on the floor of his room reading aloud to all of his monsters, one leg in and one leg out of his pants.
One by one the boys come down and sit on the stools at the kitchen island while I noisily bang breakfast and lunch together. We have all decided that Axel is a Knight, galloping around on his handsome steed, slaying dragons and Thumper is a Viking, with battle-axe and mutton chop in hand, ordering his minions around.
Sir Feisty-One demands hot chocolate, insisting that if he can no longer have the coffee that baddy has been serving than he has the right to an equal alternative. Thumper looks like he has just victoriously returned from battle, hair sticking straight up and bloody wounds covering his body. Put bandaids on those wounds, I grunt but he explains that he dont need no stinkin’ bandaids cuz hes a Livingston and Livingstons are tough. I point out that hes yelling at all of us like my father Harold, which makes him more like a Wernick, and less tough. Baddy finally comes out from the bedroom, hair also sticking straight up, a pee spot on his pajamas and I think, good thing Im a bull and not a fish or something….