The Other Side of the Door

Dedicated to my grandmother who passed away.

The Other Side of the Door

Inside the room, the people gathered

Quiet, sad, and ready to say goodbye

On the other side of the door talking and laughter pierced the silence

Inside they sighed

Inside the room, the lights were dim

The tone seemed grim as tears softly flowed

On the other side of the door a car horn blasted and the work whistle blew

Inside they cried

Inside the room, the four embraced

Holding their composure for a few moments more

On the other side of the door a child was playing and dogs were barking

Inside they prayed

The door soon opened and a light shone in

A man stood beckoning and welcomed her

She stood and walked towards the open arms

Three were left as their mother departed

Inside the room relief mixed with grief

Peace, comfort, and pride in knowing

On the other side of the door their mother was reunited with their father

Inside a piece of them died

Fake Housewives in Boise Idaho

Yep, I'm calling a spade, a spade. Here in Boise, Idaho, we are all fake housewives. How would we ever compare the the illustrious talents of Beverly Hills, Atlanta, New Jersey. or DC? Read on as I try writing my own, stunning bio that hopefully demonstrates the many reasons Bravo TV needs to come to Idaho and see what the rest of us fake housewives do.

First and foremost, we have to take care of our own lawn and garden. We put in our own pavers for the patio and spend time mowing the weeds (the grass doesn't grow any longer because our dogs tear up the sod trying to play catch from all the times we throw the ball for them). Of course, with two big dogs, there is an awful lot of poop to pick up (don't worry! I'm not posting a picture of that one!).

We also dress up for Halloween. Of course, our outfits are not always the cute, sexy devil witch but we tend to be a little more practical -- the husband's work clothes work just fine! Put a little gel in the hair and some eyeliner around the jawbone for some stubble and wa-la! a disguise is born. I rocked it.

Don't expect me to pay $100 for someone to color my hair! Clairol works just fine. In fact, my husband even highlights my hair so that I don't have to pay extra money. I am cheap!

(Side note here - only a crazy and insane person would take a photo of their alien-looking hair and post it in a blog - not that i am calling myself crazy or insane!)

And there there are the things we eat. I love food. I love tasty food. I love Nutella! I love eating Nutella from the jar and not sharing with anyone! The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, Atlanta, New Jersey, and DC probably wouldn't be caught dead eating a jar of Nutella; however, us fakers in Boise really don't care. It tastes good so let's eat! Just don't expect me to share.

 Our cooking abilities are wonderful and phenomenal. Who needs a chef when all you need is a pound of ground turkey, a diced onion, frozen corn, canned beans, and a couple of packets of chili and enchilada sauce. Top the meal with a freshly sliced avocado and you are good. When you want to take a pretty picture, put down a freshly ironed scarf with a spoon and snap the shot. Nobody needs to know you still have yesterday's meal still on the table.

Most importantly is our inane ability to admit when we make a mistake or error. We have bad days, too. Sometimes we just lift the milk container of the shelf and before you can get it into the cart it bursts open - spontaneously. Embarrassing, yes, but it happens to everyone. After looking around to see who may have witnessed this travesty, you walk out of sight by going down an aisle and turn around to take photographic evidence of the hilarity and immediately post it on Facebook.

Yes, we are fakers here. We eat, sleep, drink, color our own hair, cut our own hair, and fake the "real" life in hopes of one day being able to go onto our own Reality Television show called Fake Housewives in Boise Idaho.

What to Wear to Work When You Don't Have Anything

Ble-eep! Ble-eep! Ble-eep! I turn around and slam the alarm and then lay in bed thinking ... what do I want to wear today?

I don't know about anybody else, but I tend to go through six different outfits before I decide on the "right" one. Even then, I will finish putting my make up and only to realize the shirt really wasn't the one I wanted. It's because I hate my clothes, I hate my wardrobe and i hate how I look in the clothes. Let's throw in a latex allergy and the joy of picking out clothes diminishes down even further. I think it is because I don't have the perfect body everybody thinks you need to wear certain sizes.

My butt fits into a size 8 -- well, the new size 8. The old size 8's are really a size 6 and so my butt does not fit into those. My waist fits into a size 10. So when i wear something that fits around my butt, I can't exactly close the zipper and button comfortably (although, I can close the zipper and button!). The clothes are so tight that my little muffin top tummy hangs over and I really, really detest seeing the flab with tight fighting clothes. That's not me.

I also have the joy of being taller than most people who generally wear a size 8 or 10. I am the right height (5 foot, 7 inches) but my legs are much longer than "normal" people because when i buy pants, I end up with duck waders and about two inches from the bottom of the pants to the floor. My arms are long and lanky so I need to find large or extra-large shirts just to get some length in the sleeves. Of course, my boobs swim all over in these shirts because the rest of the shirt is too big.

Speaking of the female mammory glands... Age may improve cheese and whine but only plastic surgery can improve sagging boobs. Since I cannot afford form-fitting clothing that enhances my God-given attributes of long legs and long arms, I certainly cannot afford perkier, fuller, and cup-filling breasts. The sag has gotten to my body and I am embarrassed to admit that even the expensive brassieres fail to bring the lift and complete the ful"fill"ment they purport.

Ble-eep! Ble-eep! Ble-eep! Maybe I should just call in sick today with a materializing wardrobe headache.

Online Dating - Been There, Done That. Don't Recommend It.

Chewing out my kids is never a problem; I'm actually quite good at it. I'm actually quite good at chewing out my husband, too. I consider myself passionate about certain topics and when someone asks me for my opinion and viewpoint, be prepared for a biased and strong opine.

So -- a family member decided to get my viewpoint about online dating. Their assumption was because I have an ex who I met online back in 1996 that I may be sympathetic towards certain irresponsible behaviors. While I do have the "Been There, Done That" T-Shirt in a variety of colors, I do not recommend purchasing those shirts from personal experience but admire the shirts from afar as someone else wears them.

While online dating works for some, a person needs to make sure that safe actions are taken. I'm a stickler for online safety and strongly believe people should meet in public places and let someone else know where your are going, as well as checking in after you return home safely. Stupidity arises when you decide to provide your home address -- especially if you have young children living with you.

I can't control the actions of family members living in several states away. I can't even protect my children all the time when they are online no matter how much I want to. I will, however, give you my advice -- Don't compromise yourself or your child because you want a relationship that you can't handle. Don't give out your address. Don't invite this person into your home with your toddler child.