Blue Eyeshadow. Red Shoes.

I remember watching my mother get ready for work when I was little. I remember the liquid eyeliner, the blue eyeshadow, red lipstick. The cloud of hairspray. And her outfits were always "sharp". She had a pair of red shoes that I thought were the best thing ever. Her skin was flawless. Her eyes were large and green and I thought she was the prettiest lady in the whole world. I would get so mad when people told me I looked like my Dad. He was a BOY. Here was my Mama, the penultimate picture of what a female should be. I was going to be her.

Never mind that it took years into my marriage to get comfortable leaving the house without makeup. (My Mom: "Aren't you going to put on some lipstick or something? You look tired.")She still says I look tired if I visit her house sans makeup to this day. My husband Joe finally convinced me, however, that I do not look like some hideous, suffering, sub-species swamp creature if I leave the house without blush and concealer. Nor do I necessarily need sunglasses, unless it's really sunny out. But...I still think of my Mom every time I look like crap in the grocery store and run into someone I know. (Mom:"I told you")

Today I had to help my Mom find some Rx pills she misplaced, get rid of some Rx's that she no longer should have around, and insist that she no longer keep her medications in the bedroom where they can't be monitored by Dad. She looked like a little girl. She has a pill minder and now we all hope she will mind her pills.

As time goes on, I like to think more about that pretty lady getting ready in front of the mirror. She still has those lovely, large green eyes.

My Father-in-Law

Today was the final performance of Jack and the Beanstalk. This was a show I performed in 22 years ago, with the same lovely people, in a lovely adaptation by Douglas Jones. Theatre IV was kind enough to ask us all to come back, and with our gray hairs, aches and pains, and the odd wrinkle and crinkle, we all said "Yes!". No regrets.

But I must say, this has been a wild year so far. My father-in-law has a terminal illness. And I've never mentioned it before. Not on facebook. Or here, but it seems time is truly running short now, and I just wanted to say a few things. Roland Pabst, my husband's(Joe's) father, is a fine man. Tall, with a full head of snow white hair and big blue eyes(just like Joe!). A gifted carpenter and handyman, always knew how to fix ANYTHING. I also say with complete admiration that he can be willful and stubborn as hell. Takes a lot of strength to be that way, and he has it in spades. And best of all, he has a sharp wit and sense of humor, and loves to laugh. Rollie, as his friends and family know him, would NEVER turn down the opportunity to laugh at a good joke. But it would have to be a GOOD one, mind you. His only son, and THE light of my life, Joe, will be performing in a show this spring called "Is He Dead?", by Mark Twain. Now, delicacy has dictated that we tiptoe around this title. But on my blog, I choose to celebrate a couple of things. One, that Rollie Pabst would be the FIRST one to laugh at the irony of the title. Sorry if anyone is offended,but I'm telling you, he would laugh. Two, that Joe has dedicated his performance to his Dad, who, more than anyone would appreciate being remembered in a show that made people laugh, smile, and feel good.

We don't know how much longer Rollie will be with us. But I just wanted to celebrate him a little. I'm glad he's part of my family. I'm honored to be married to his son.