Hand Painted Stair Runner - Update Brown to Grey- (1hr.)

Theresa Caputo- "I talk to dead people"

Songs: On Eagles Wings

To Where You Are by Josh Grobin

In Memory of 

John G. McMahon and Crissy Fox * 

*Crissy Fox whom I never met but was introduced via Facebook by my friend Christine Mullin and was, like many, inspired by, is being laid to rest tomorrow. Her symbol is the cardinal.*

*******

"But HEY, don't listen to me," she said, waving her three inch silicone nails over her head. "I talk to dead people."

My friend, Holly, surprised me with a ticket to see Theresa Caputo psychic medium at NYCB Theater in Westbury.  As a huge fan of the show Long Island Medium, with a heavy case of the doldrums, it was one of the nicest things someone could have done for me.  That alone would have been enough.  The thought would have counted. BUT IT GOT BETTER! Bettah.

Why? Because I was able to go!  You know with three kids something is always on the cooker getting in the way of my good time.  Not this time.  Nuh- uh. I got to see Theresa herself stuffed like a sausage into a short red sleeveless dress trimmed with dyed red ostrich feathers work the room in 6" sparkly diamond Louboutin heels.

The theater is surprisingly small and intimate. Nice! My pal upgraded us to second row.  Bananas!  The people to our left were fanatics-they'd seen her like ninety times.  Awesome.  I LOVE fans.  Any kinda fan.  Just be passionate.  Well, within reason. It must be positive, don't shave your head and be all supremacist or militant and sit by me and think I'll high five you. Okay, onward. Her daughter, Victoria, was in the audience. I love Victoria. And Larry Senior was hovering somewhere-we saw his tan greasy head for about a minute and then lost sight of him.

Holly and I illegally taking a selfie! 

Then Theresa came out.  The crowd went wild. I already told you what she was wearing.  So let's get to what you want to know, the big question. Is she a fake? Maybe.

I feel bad! I'm sure she has psychic ability, more so than the next guy.  We all have psychic ability.  If you have lost someone in the physical world, they are always with you.  You can access that peace by remembering them.  You will feel a sense of them.  Sometimes you might even feel anger, joy, laughter-a specific energy that was between you and that person.  That is them! A song may play on the radio and that's them.  This post is dealing specifically with the Theresa Caputo Experience, so let me not get lost with the whole genre. Theresa channels spirits of people she's never met.  That's wild. Few have that gift.  Was she faking the strength of her gift in those two hours in order to give us a show? Was she accepting things people were saying when they weren't actually connecting? I'm pretty sure! I think she must have to or there'd be no show.  I don't think she can pop on command.  The capacity of the theater is somewhere around 3,000 people.  She is pulling down at least $300,000. a show. That's a lotta pizza pie. A girls gotta deliver.  Plus, I can see how she sleeps at night.  Let me explain what I saw.

She comes out and it's awesome to see her. She's a total character.  There's nothing middle of the road in her pulse.  She's extremely; confident, loud, made-up, funny, done to the Long Island nines, accent, hair spray, all of it.  She herself is pure entertainment.  Throw in the ghosts and it's like putting marshmallows in your hot chocolate. Working off of that, she takes the better part of forty minutes explaining what it is she does, it's called "The Experience"- how Spirit comes through in an unusual way so that you know it's your loved one. She is not there to convince anyone that she is legitimate.  Thou dost protest too much.  I love Theresa, I still do but I hate getting held up. We were all there to see her. We know what she is and how she does.  We weren't bagged and blindfolded and launched into the Westbury Theatre. We went because we believe her and know how she works-who spends that kind of money on tickets to check up on a girl? Not us! It didn't make any sense. It felt like stalling. And then as I played the tape backwards, I see why she does that.

Okay, so after she takes 45 minutes to tell us her name and where she's from and what she does and how tall she is and what color her hair is (eyes rolled to heaven), she looks up into the crowd directly in front of her -about 500 people and asks, "Who here has the male that passed?" Well, 400 hands go up.  It's like shooting fish in a barrel.  Then she narrows down. Is she telling us or are we telling her?  Every one of those hands wants to be the one to communicate with

second row, another bootleg pic;D

their loved one, so people start playing games with themselves as she asks more specific questions.  Not out loud -but you can imagine what's going on in a persons head as they're standing there with a mic in their hand thinking and thinking about a simple question,"Did my dad have a tattoo? Well, he always said his freckles were tattoos from God."  NO! That is not a tattoo. They stand there staring at her until she asks a question that they can answer in the affirmative. Sit down.  But they don't sit down.  They stand there and lie. So is she lying too? I don't know. She may be giving them time to think because in her experience people go deaf, blind and dumb when confronted with big emotion. Or they are working her thinking if they stand there long enough eventually their loved one will come through.

Does Theresa know they are doing this? Well, I did. She must. She does this for a living. Yet, you do get caught in the moment. Suddenly she's there standing in front of you and you wouldn't even remember if you had a father, nonetheless one with tatoos.  Things dawn on you later, when you are at home, she explained. Still, there was a lot of fishing. That stole from the show. It definitely added to the doubt she planted when she started on the lengthy foot of "I have nothing to prove." Then there are other places where I thought, there's no way she could know that. There are so many people jumping up and interrupting I just don't think Medium-ship or whatever it's- called lends itself to huge crowds.  She probably knows this but when you're pulling in over a mill a month, when you are selling out shows, you have a production company in contract, two kids in college and you are giving people a night out filled with hope! Who is going to say "Oh no, I'll just stick with the one-on-ones at a buck and a quarter? Right or wrong?  I don't know. I don't know. I dunno!!

"You can't make this shit up!"

Near the beginning she asked, "Who here had a son pass in an accident on the driveway?" Only one hand went up- it was that specific.  And then it turned out that lady didn't lose a son on a driveway, she just stood when she heard son.  (It is so sad to see how many hands go up when she asks, "who here lost a son?"- to see that in itself is a master class in compassion. Enough to say to yourself, well, if they get solace out of Theresa, whether she can hear spirit or not she's okay by me- and that's how I know she can sleep at night.  She gives hope worth the price of admission. Some people are living moment to moment.  That moment of hope is all they have.)  Later when she was by our section she came back to the same question, posed a little differently, "a male who passed on the driveway." This woman stands up and Theresa asked, "Was he on the driveway?" and she says, "No." She is blank staring Theresa as if she shouldn't even be talking to her. So Theresa says, "Well, Spirit is making me stay here so I'm going to continue.  This young male is taking responsibility for his death, he's saying he shouldn't have been there but I'm going, wait you're too young to be responsible for anything, and he's saying no Theresa, it was my fault. And he keeps showing me a driveway, a long driveway,"  And the woman goes, "Well, my nephew was sledding on my driveway and got hit by a bus when he got to the end," So there's where you go, Ok, she asked you like 4 times about the driveway and you kept saying no?! Then Theresa goes, "Was he young? Cause I feel like he was very young," and the woman says, "he was four."  And you just lose it.  You're just like oh, no wonder you couldn't think straight cause it's too much.  Your sister came over to go sledding with her baby and went home alone.  So there was that moment. Then there were a ton of misses.  A ton.

*She barks a lot when it's not working.  It's intimidating.  It may have been a rough night.

Still in our section, she started calling out, I have the number 13, spirit is saying the number 13.  My dads birthday was April 13th. I know he comes in on 13. I felt like it was him. I wasn't ready to hop in though when someone who may have lost a baby needed to speak, like that other dingbat. So, then she says, "6 now, who lost a male with the numbers 13 and 6? 13 and 6. Come on now.  Who is it, right here, 13 and 6. Spirit is telling me I'm RIGHT here." She's motioning her bare arms up and down to the right of me.  I am lost on 6, there's no 6!  "Shoeshine, he is telling me shoeshine, 13 and 6 and shoeshine," she says.  My dad had a shoeshine! A wooden brown shoeshine box with all kinds of brushes and rags and I could practically smell the Kiwi stain. So I go "My dad had a shoeshine," in this barely there voice.  Holly looked at me like, oh boy.  Theresa looked at me but then a woman way up top stood and shouted "Shoeshine!" like it was Bingo at the town hall so instead Theresa took off to go see about her. She was a dud. Theresa came back around us,  "13 and 6 and shoeshine, right here."  I lost my nerve completely.  There was no 6. Two out of three wasn't enough.  She moved on.

This one girl stood up and said she almost died in a car accident.  I swear.  Theresa asked "Who died in a car accident where there is survivors guilt, that means you feel it should have been you?" and the girl stood up.  Theresa asked said, "Okay, so you were in a car and you switched seats with the driver and because of that the driver died and you survived." The girl goes, "Oh, no, I was alone in the car, I almost got into an accident.  I swerved and just missed it." She goes "If yaw standin' here, tawking to me, ya not dead!" Then she throws her hands in the air, and hollers, "HOLY MOLY YOU CANT' MAKE THIS SHIT UP!"

Theresa.  I don't know if she was reading Spirits mind but she definitely read mine. Now had this woman been shy of a pulse? Then we would have all been on bended ear. Alive and talking? Hush. Come back when you're dead.

Then it ended.  I told the fanatics next to us about 13 and shoeshine and she said, well anyone who'd be in his 70's now, had a shoeshine."  I thought oh, that's true. So we left thinking it was mostly bullshit.  I'll speak for myself, I thought it may have been mostly bullshit.  Holly thought it was total bullshit.

When I got home, I remembered.  My dad born on the 13th had 6 kids and a shoeshiner. Things dawn on you when you get home.  I see why she does that.

Tips- Join the Fanclub to get tickets, you will save a bundle.  Holly spent three times as much on our tickets. I can't say how much in case it gets back to her husband.  But "survivors guilt"? I had receivers guilt. 

Bring your loved ones momentos with you. Lots of people had bags of "cremains" a word I learned at the show - they had cremated people in ziplock bags. It seemed to help. 

Of Course That's A Hippo! Perception.

"Is this THE alphabet book?"

At last weeks Parent/Teacher conference my sons Kindergarten teacher told me that during every recess Julian goes to the writing table and tries to write books while the other kids play.  Aw, chip off the ole block.  His teacher told me he was particularly proud of his Alphabet Book.   When he handed it to me I felt a warm feeling for him, he hadn't told me he liked to make books.  It was a big deal for him to give it to me.   We sat on the couch together, in a familiar posture of me holding and reading, him listening.  But this time,  I was reading his letters and guessing at his pictures.  I hoped I wouldn't let him down by not understanding what he was trying to put across.  Perception is so particular.

 Apple. Nice!

Banana! Sweet.

 Ah, a little less straight forward, but I got it.  Caterpillar! Right on.

 Dinosaur! This is easy!

 Ummmm...Eagle? Yep.  Phew!

 I held my breath just a beat before I said "Frog!" Yes! Fist pump.

It got a little Rorschach for me here.  The "Go0"threw me off also.  I did not know that the second "O"  was a head.  I admit I struggled with this one.  He gave it to me..."Gorilla." OF COURSE! Forehead slap.

 H...bit of a stumper...my confidence was low due to the fail on Gorilla.  "Hog?" I asked hesitantly.  His smile went into a slit as found on a slot machine.  Dang.   "Hippo," he said, like I was an imbecile.  I was glad as long as he didn't blame himself.  "Of course that's a hippo!" I said. "Oh my gosh, anyone with a set of eyes knows that." "You didn't," Julian said.  Ah- hem.

Oh, man.  This was beyond me.  WTF.  He looked at me, staring at my eyes waiting for the answer to appear there.  Perception is so particular- and I'll add -a fickle master.  I sucked my teeth and shook my head, focus Susan.  WTF is brown and has 4 legs, a tail and a white face with a long beard? I needed to buy time. "I love what you did with the head, is that a mane?" I pointed to the white area.  "NO! That's not the head!" he shouted.  "This is the head!" He pointed to the opposite end, which then of course looked more like a head and not a kicked up leg.  I couldn't figure out the white ass. I was familiar with a pink ass.  Baboon? "I give up," I said.  He looked disappointed.  It was dawning on him that it may be the artist and not the observer.  Curtains.  "It's a jaguar, mom," he said, more quietly.  "Oh! Yes, Julian, I am not smart enough to think of an animal that special, I only think of like, dogs, cats..." T'was a tad disheartening that the idea that I was a total dolt was so easily understood.  But he straightened up his back and that was what mattered here.  Right? Kinda.   This next one was do or die.

 "Kid!" I said.  He rolled his eyes and put his neck into a reverse plank.  "Oh my gosh,  It's a Kansas City football player." But he was laughing because he knew that was  not something I would know about.  It was the grey areas that created all the tension. "Kansas City has a football team?! Just kidding."  We laughed and hugged and turned the page.

 FFFFFFF...More big blobs with four legs and white behinds...at least I knew which end was up this time..."I love the cute little head...L for Little Turtle?" He shrunk back,  his eyes never leaving my face. "That's the tail mama,"  the jig was up and we both knew it. "this one is a mane, these are eyes, it's-"  I cut him off! "A lion!" Wipe forehead with back of hand. That was close.  He remained slumped but smiled.

 Come on now...seriously? I can't remember what this one was.  I  know I squinted hard and held my breath- constipated in thought.  Dear God, please give me the answer, Rottweiler? Rabbit? Roach?  I never got it.  In case you missed it we jumped from L to R...he didn't.  They were all in the book and all looked almost exactly the same as these.   M, N, O, P, Q...R.

 Another blob.  I wanted to cry. "You get 38 guesses,"  THIRTY EIGHT!! He smiled brightly, this was fun! Looking at me then the picture, me then the picture. I was cooked after sloth, but I championed.  Squirrel.  Nope.  Snake? A snake doesn''t have legs!! Right.  So much of this picture makes sense.  Sheep.  What?!

 "A skunk," I said.  "Yep!" I seriously think it was Divine Intervention.  The pride on his face was worth every ounce of sweat.  Pretty much.

Your guess...you have 38 guesses. 

Hint: Most of the time People are not putting out what we are perceiving.  A hippo is usually not a hog.    It's a rare day where we take pause to sit and exchange and understand the different ways we see things- at any age.  

Merry Christmas. 

It was the best book I ever read.   

Pity Party-What comes before part B? Part A!

Songs: Ke$ha- Timber
           Shoop Salt-n-Pepa


It was a crowd of three that swelled to seven and thinned from there.  Karaoke,  open bar and food.  Christmas lights everywhere.

Wednesday morning the huz told me to go get me hairs did.

He had been hinting around about a karaoke surprise party for me that in the three weeks since my birthday had never materialized.  Sounded to me like this day was the big day.
"Really?" I asked. "Is tonight the night?"
"Well, how long does it last?" he asked, meaning a salon blow-out.
"I don't know, three days, four with baby powder?"
"Yeah, I'd do it today," he smiled like a rascal.

In my mind I began to prepare as if for a parade.  Me the float.  I would smile in a way that made all of my friends better for having seen it.  I'd sing songs that would bring great galls of laughter but also make them wonder if I'd ever cut a demo.  My thanks-for-coming speech would make the listeners nudge the person next them, with what's called the God nod.  A nod of emotional recognition so deep they'd felt it was delivered by The Almighty Himself.  They'd search their pockets for tissues.  Wonder why they didn't get to see me more.

As I've mentioned in the past, at present, I am not the most social butterfly in the net.  I was super social growing up and through/post college.  I'd say in the last ten years I'm more likened to being back in the cocoon.  However, being at my friends wedding a few weeks back and dancing and laughing and well, socializing with all the old crew- had me experiencing something of a  renaissance.  I liked it.  I have always loved people, that never waned.  I am a true lover of people.   The capacity of the human heart never fails me.  The power of a word, a smile, a four letter word.  Human connection makes me jolly.

So Wednesday,  7 o'clock the huz calls and says, "So you know your party's tonight right?," he sounded excited.
"I do!" I said.  I'm no dummy, if he's asking me, he's telling me.
"Well, listen I just wanted to let you know no ones coming, really, like some people are, awesome people, but none of the... like... your friends from growing up or the wedding or anything, or your sisters."
I thought that he was trying to re-surprise me-get me all un-psyched so that the surprise would be that much bigger, or well, at this point- exist.
"Oh, Okay," I said.  Pull this leg it plays Jingle Bells.
"Okay," he said, relieved.  "I just wanted you to know because I don't want you to be upset."
I could tell from his voice that he was being sincere.  Tears started running down my cheeks.
"Okay?" he asked. "You good with that? We'll have a lot of fun. It's going to be a lot of fun.  Get dressed.  I'll be there in half an hour."
"Yea, totally," I said.  I did not let him know I had tears running down my face.  I did not see how it was going to to be a lot of fun.  I didn't know what to wear to a party where no one was coming.
I texted some childhood friends who were in the area, "Danny told me about the party and that you're not coming. I'm so sad (insert sad emoji)."
I dabbed my eyes and decided applying make-up would be futile because the tears wouldn't stop coming.  I decided on clothes.  All black, all tight, all covered.
Amazing what done hair does for a person.  Even in my dour attire, my flippy lid shouted -party!  A friends mom said, "Hair is like the bed in the room, if the bed is made, the room looks clean.  If it's not made, no matter how clean,  the room looks dirty."  No truer words.  I felt better in my hot pants and shirt.  I was ready for eyes.  A swipe of mascara, some liner.  Done that.  Earrings.  All set.  I was ready to hit that karaoke machine and yell, "Timber!" Ke$ha-style.

My three sons kept coming up and around me. "Where are you going mama?!" They were not having it.  "You look gross," my oldest said.  Thanks.  "I think you look nice, mom," my middle one said, hiding his mouth behind his closed fist, shy.  "Lookatchooo!" My little one said, (Hankie), that's his new exclamation, "Lookatchoooo!!!" haha.  How could I be sad?  I checked my texts, no replies.  I should have held off on that mascara.

We walked up to the bar.  It was lit up like a Christmas tree, as festive as the parade I'd mentally prepared for.  The bit of hope I had that Danny was lying about no one coming was alive and kicking.  I made sure my hands were free to cover my ears so my hearing didn't suffer when they screamed "SURPRISE!".   The door opened...

"Hey," my friend said.  She was sitting with two others, a really nice friend of hers I'd met a couple of times and another super cutie.  "Haaaaaaapppy Birthdaaaay!"

"Hi!" I said.  Kissing them on their cheeks hello.

So it wasn't The Macy's Day parade.  It was still great.   Those who showed up on what I now know was very little notice are just the best.  My sweet huz for (dis)organizing a celebration for me made me so happy.  I am not a girl who draws crowds.  I'm an intimate dinner.  (At home, in my pajamas with two or more books by my side.)  That damn wedding got me all confused, I had momentarily lapsed into thinking I was who I used to be a decade ago.  We probably should have just walked across the street and sat down for dinner but I held them hostage there until I'd sung at least one Salt n Pepa.

Then we all yelled timberrrrrr.


This link helped!! haha - it really did:O