Reality TV

Reality TV. My addiction. There....I've said it. No sense in signing me up for "Reality TV Anonymous". I'm quite happy with my addiction. It makes me feel more sane and normal. It makes me feel good about myself. I don't feel the need to get new boobs, lips and hair extensions. I don't dream of being a singer or designer. I don't live in a world where turning over a table is part of a normal dinner party. I don't have to say "Yes" to a dress while my mother and best friends pick it apart. (I now know why I went by myself to find my own wedding dress. Good decision.) No one called me a Bridezilla.....I don't think. I wouldn't last long on a deserted island fending for myself. I don't have a bunch of celebrity sisters or a pushy mother that keeps me in the magazines. I can kind of cut hair but have no desire to run a salon. But boy do I like watching all of this.....stuff.

At the moment, I'm watching "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding". The Gypsy or Irish Traveler culture is SO different and very closed off. I've never seen wedding dresses of this kind of gaudy opulence. Way, way over the top in bling, ruffles and material alone. Only to be topped by the bridesmaids. Interesting enough, the culture is totally male driven. Girls marry young and are then virtually the property of their husband. Their entire life is geared to becoming a cooking, cleaning machine of a housewife in a small trailer. (A little like me. NOT.) Yet, they show these young girls dressed like hookers at really young ages out to attract men. The Pussycat Dolls have nothing on these girls as they dance the part as well. It's also interesting to me that they portray that in this culture, girls don't drink and certainly don't have sex before marriage. Still this show has more bare midriffs and more boobs spilling out than any of the "Real Housewives".

Big, fancy dresses are not just for weddings. They're showing a 7 year old little girl's first communion in a princess style dress made with 550 yards of pink netting. The dress weighs twice as much as she does. She can hardly walk. She arrives at the church in a stretch with her friends drinking sparkling cider. Huh?

So why do I like reality TV so much? I still have the prodigal son in my home. Glad he came back but it is way past time for him to find his own place again. Then there is his girlfriend that we are raising. I keep encouraging her to make amends with her father. It's time for her family to step up. Oh, I didn't tell you that we finally got them to take their dog somewhere else. Of course, I was deemed evil, but the backyard can finally be reclaimed. This weekend was the latest in a line of "deadlines" that Hub had placed on them to be out. They have decided that they are moving back "again" to where we lived. Until then they will be living with his boss. Oy vey!

Yep, reality TV seems to be a great diversion. Everyone has their family stuff. This is how I get through mine. Oh, and I just found out that Hub has asked #1 son and the girlfriend to come back here and house sit while we are away for about 6 days. Looking for a party? My house - next weekend.

Wonder what is coming on TV next...........

Later

Happy Father's Day, Daddy

Dear Diary,

Father's Day 2011 is almost over. It doesn't take Hallmark to remind me of Daddy. I can only wish that I could send him a card. I still miss him every day. Not so much the missing that makes you weep or sends you spiraling out of control. Just the reminder that I'm just talking to him in my head about daily life. He was my cheerleader with all of the answers. Not that he would just hand those answers over. He took way too many pschology classes for that. But somehow, he would direct me into finding my own answer. (Or at least thinking it was my own answer.)

Life can be really hard sometimes. He was my constant. Always there. Always believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself. Always loved me. I really want to ask him about what to do with his grandson. He is driving us over the cliff. Of course, I do know in my heart what he would say. He would just say "Love him." He would say it quietly, powerfully, and in a way that I knew he understood.

Daddy was my first boyfriend. My brother told me once that when I was little I never called him "Daddy". I called him "My Daddy". Guess I was marking my territory. When I became an adult and lived in another city, it was not unusual for him to call me on Monday mornings as I was walking/running into the office. On the other end: "Hi Kid. Just called to say hello and tell you I love you. Have a great week."

Anyway, can't send him a card. He left for Heaven 27 years ago next month. If I could it would say something like...."Thank you for the wings you gave me. Thank you for the guidance you gave me even when I paid it no mind. I still heard you. Thank you for loving me like no other. I miss you, Daddy and I will love you forever."

Yep, Dear Diary, that's what it would say.

Happy Father's Day, My Daddy.