It's May, and you know what that means. Oh wait, you don't.

It's a bit early for a Mother's Day post, but then again what better way to differentiate oneself! And yes, we realize this is strange written in the third person. No one's forcing you to read, is all we're sayin'.

Today is May.

First, you're welcome for sharing what we're sure is surprising news to y'all.

But second, we'd like to spend a few serious moments describing what May means to us as May will forever be inextricably linked to Mother's day.  See, we lost our own in early May. We remember the day she died. The day before she died. The cruelly beautiful and sunny Sunday that we tossed a shovelful of dirt into the ground. The cruel irony of burying her on the special day we had previously dedicated to the joy of drinking tequila. Sacrilege! And then, one week later, Mother's Day, which seemed at the time to be an unbearable punishment from the universe. 

Still, at the same time, it also seemed an appropriate time to symbolically acknowledge this loss. For that reason, we chose to unveil her tombstone on Mother's Day. That was one year later, one month past the official 11-month Jewish morning period, and though the constant, overwhelming grief had subsided, the intensity had not, and we recall wondering just how much longer that would take. 11 months was not enough. Who were these "forefathers" kidding? And while we were at it - why 11, specifically? Why not 6, or 12, or even 13, which is always a favorite number in Judaism? We couldn't help think that 11 was such an arbitrary number. Did they know something we didn't? Or were they just full of it, making it up as they went along - like the rest of us. Or - what if we were the stupid ones, what if we misinterpreted it and it was suppose to be years, not months?

Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

Now that we've put REO Speedwagon in your head (you're welcome), we'd like to interrupt our usual schedule of negativity with a blast of....

it's coming.......

wait for it.....

optimism.

Yes, you heard us. Optimism.

It's funny how life doesn't work out the way we expect.  After struggling for a while, this week seems to be the week that the universe finally said "Ok, Poker Chick! We've handed you enough piles of crap for now.  Time to experience something different."  In one week we have sudden grown up ten years.  We've purchased an apartment, taken care of ourselves despite a broken toe, volunteered at school, danced all night, laughed with friends until our stomach hurt, hugged mini tightly after her piano recital, met some awesome new peeps, and finally figured out how to fix that leaky faucet and broken cabinet that have driven us nuts for years (hint: it involves two simple words: call, handyman.)

We had this vaguely familiar funny feeling for a while and we ignored it for a while and it went away.  It came back little bits at a time, and today in the glorious spring sun we realized what it was: happiness.  Hello, happiness.  Even if you're fleeting, we missed you.  As a temporarily happy person, we are now ready to use that horribly ugly-sounding word people use to describe women like us without shame.   Mrs. Costanza accent and all.

Yeah, we realize we still don't know how things will turn out.  We realize next week might suck.  Or, it might now.  We've got optimism now.  Bring it.

Step away from the cheese, peeps.

This message will always be true, peeps.

Ahhh, Valentine's Day.   You're expecting some sort of snarky post, aren't you?  Well, surprise! If you've got a hankering for some classic Poker Chick, you can read our favorite Valentine's Day post circa 2007.  Cracks us up, every time.  No, really...read it.  Please?





This year we're bypassing the usual cynicism; partly because we'll never be able to top our favorite post from 2007, and partly because this year we seem to have unearthed some hidden *gasp* optimism.

You see, this Valentine's day, things are different.  Poker husband moved out a while ago, though we can't legally call him that anymore.  We're checking that "other" box on forms now.  While we're no experts on this subject, based on what we've seen in the movies and pop culture (which must be true, right?) the usual pattern is this: big fight - maybe even violent, someone yells sweet nothings such as "they're how old?!" or "your secretary, how could you!", someone moves out and overpays for a tiny hotel room, everyone is notified immediately, the lawyers are summoned, someone starts dating too soon, one wants the other one back but they're not interested, then they decide they do want them back and the other is now sleeping with their best friend, lots of drama, families involved, no one speaking to each other, yadda...yadda... yadda...

That's how it works, right?  Oh, not quite? Interesting.

So that wasn't the case here either.  Just a plain old boring case of two good people trying to be good parents and struggling to do the right thing and be [mostly] mature about it.  For mini's sake, that's all we're going to say about that. 

Which brings us back to Valentine's Day, clearly!  You'd think that our first Feb 14th as a single mother would bring us down.  But we're determined to create a happy home with some new traditions, and somehow Valentine's Day has us thinking about the people we love, and the people who have supported us, and we can't help but feel this wonderful appreciation for those loyal friends and family who were there for us.  And so we had a sudden urge to buy mini a card, which we didn't understand.  And then we had a sudden urge for chocolate, which we did understand.

And then we had this epiphany that we didn't actually hate Valentine's Day.  We still hate the cheese and chintz, but the concept? Not as much.  We realized that we were trained to hate Valentine's Day:  Jews don't celebrate it.  It makes people feel lonely and left out.  Mom was diagnosed with an inhuman fatal illness that day.  You know, the usual excuses.

While those were all very, very good reasons to hate this day indeed, it finally occurred to us that those were other people's reasons, not ours.  We actually don't have a reason to hate it ourselves.  So this year we're trying love and a couple of cards on for size. 

Ahh, anti-Valentines...

we will always love you so

But don't even try to come near us with those candy heart things or we'll barf all over you.  Just sayin'.  Love and optimism aside, it's still horribly offensive.  Cheese is still cheese peeps, no matter how you slice it.  You can quote us on that one.
 

Coming attractions...

Poker Chick is working on three upcoming posts: one on short people, one on observations from Jury Duty, and the other on the hell that has been the last few days (think funerals and diarrhea). Feel free to place requests for post order if you have any.

Don't worry. We won't leave you with nothing. In personal news of the bizarre, this weekend Poker Chick drove a Prius. Yes, that's right. Drove.