Two Weeks Notice

I just gave notice. My two week notice, that is.

I'm relieved, a little sad and a lot hopeful. My boss was awesome about the whole thing. Now I wonder why I dreaded it all weekend......

So, I'm stirring up my life. I've decided that I'm not going to be one of those people that sit around waiting for things to happen to them, or coasting through some of the best days of my life, my prime, when my intelligence is equal to my physical health and I might be able to make a real difference. If not world wide, at least in my little section of it.

I don't want to tell my grandchildren one day that I sat behind a desk for my entire working career. Wouldn't you rather know things about your grandmother that interest you? Things that matter?

My mom's mother passed away when I was eight, so all I really remember about her was playing penny poker with some of her "friends" . She would dice up a tomato and salt and pepper it for a snack. There was also a little box that I ran across while visiting once that contained some terribly life-like dog shit. And this is what I really remember about her. Sad, right?

We lost my dad's mom, whom I called "Granny" two years ago this summer. My dad still has a hard time with it and can't speak of her without tears sneaking up on him.

My Granny was a real firecracker. One of the last times I saw her, she lectured me on how important it was to have sex with my husband on a regular basis. She said "Never forget the importance of sex!" At my blush, she continued on, "I mean it! I'm an old woman, but I wasn't always!"

I remember much more about her. She kept one of those old fashioned douche bags hanging on the back of her bathroom door. I was about twelve before I realized what it was, and she gave me another piece of advice. "Laurie, you must always keep you tootie clean!" Yes, she said this to me and I wanted to die.

Granny was married three different times, but it all happened before I was born. She came from a really good family, but married unwisely. All three times. She ended up divorcing all of them, and while I don't know a whole lot about the first and last, the second one was a real son of a bitch, by all accounts. He is my Grandpa, although I never laid eyes on him and he died when I was sixteen, so it seems it worked out well in the end. I remember my Granny telling me that there wasn't a man alive worth putting up with after all she had been through. She meant it, as any time some older gentleman would ask her on a date, she would tell him to "Go to hell". Seriously.

She had ten children and while most of them are dumb asses in one fashion or another, they all loved their momma. She was their champion, no matter how badly any of them screwed up, Granny could find some reason to excuse them. Got caught drinking and driving? Well, that stupid bartender shouldn't have served him as much as he did. Spazzed out on prescription drugs? Well, you know she has issues, it's not her fault. I could go on and on, as I've got a ton of stories a ton more scandalous, but you get the picture.

As one of her many, many grandchildren, I was subject to her unconditional love and her unsolicited advice.

She always smelled of Jergen's lotion and applied it subconsciously to her legs. Her face was a myriad of lines and wrinkles, but she had the most beautiful legs I've ever seen on an old woman. They were always smooth and shiny, right up until the day she died. She once told me to not forget about my face when applying lotion. I religiously apply lotion to my entire body several times a day in her memory.

My mom and her were really close, even though it was my dad's mom. I once went to go see her and told her my mom couldn't make it, as she wasn't feeling well and looked awful. She said, "When she was young and a fox, she didn't know it, but now that she's old and a hound, she's well aware of it." She probably had it liberally sprinkled with lots of g-d's and the eff word, as that was her way. (I can't say either of those words while discussing my grandma. It just doesn't seem right, even if she cursed worse than a sailor.)

Anyway, the point to this post... When my future grandchildren think of me, I want it to be with a sense of adventure, as well as the little details that make up who I am as a person.

I remember my Granny as being not very active. I think she was really old long before her age crept up. She was tired and didn't have the energy to do more than play bingo and watch Felicity on television (she thought I looked JUST LIKE Keri Russell....I heard this over and over and over).

The definition of blind love:

Keri Russell:



Me:




While I thought she was a remarkable person, brave enough to tell not one, not two, but three piece of shit husbands to kiss her ass and proceed to raise ten children on her own, I also think that when they were grown, she just...stopped. Stopped everything.

I want to have a purpose that doesn't involve my children. Do I love them? More than my soul can hold. But I want...more.....I want to be their mother, and my husbands wife, and my parent's daughter, but I also just want to be me. Laurie, the one that looks like Laurie, the one that makes her choices based on what Laurie wants, the one that doesn't plan every vacation around when and where everyone else wants to go. Me. That's all.

I know it sounds selfish, but looking at the big picture, I think I'm going to be better in all categories if I save a little piece of me, something that will thrive for decades after my children are raised and my grandkids are born. When my grandkids sit and write a blog about the influence my presence had in their life, I want it to be more.

So, I change career's in two weeks. To something meaningful, if not exactly lucrative. I hope this will be the start of me branching out more, in all areas of my life.