Dear Dad

There is something on my blog that I rarely talk about: my Dad. More specifically, my Dad's suicide. I don't talk about it for several reasons, but mainly because I don't want to open up that wound. Who am I kidding? The wound that is still there. I'm sure it will always be open a little at times, maybe festering at other times, hopefully one day just a scar. But the wound is not at that point of fully healed yet. And one of the reasons why I think it's not properly healed is because I haven't really said good-bye. You see, I was too pissed off at my Dad to even think about having a memorial service to remember him, when all I wanted to do was forget. I wanted to forget my pain, my guilt, my loss, the void...the void that he caused.

But now I think it's time. Today is the 5 year anniversary of his death. In some respects it's been the longest 5 years of my life. Other times I feel only minutes have passed since I last saw him.

So this is my letter to him. Read it, don't read it...it's up to you, but I have to put it out there for me to continue to heal that wound a little more.
******

Dear Dad (aka Yo Papa),

I've been so angry with you since you died. Angry, sad, confused. It's hard to miss you sometimes because of my anger and guilt.

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you are gone. It just seems like a long time in between phone calls. A long time in between hugs. And a forever between goodbyes.

I still ponder what exactly you where thinking when you pulled the trigger - I can't help but figure that you didn't know what you were doing, that you were too drunk. I find myself hoping that you didn't know, because then, at least in some respect maybe, you didn't consciously think that you would choose to leave your kids...never see your future grandchildren, never laugh, never feel happiness or love again.

I'm sorry I didn't have a service for you. Its now all these years later and I still think I should have. But I couldn't celebrate your life because of the way you took it. And on some levels, I still feel that way. But I'm ready to move past it instead of holding on to all of the anger and confusion.

I miss your phone calls. I miss you calling me "kid." I miss sharing my sense of humor with someone who so deeply understood it. I miss your faults and your insights, your advise and your laugh (your real, full on belly laugh). I miss your hug and your love. I miss how you would tease me and how you would protect me (like when I was 24, in your car and you stopped short, you threw your arm in front of me to stop me from going though the windshield). I miss your Mr. Peanut monocle.

You taught me so very much about life and loss. I know you weren't perfect, far from it, but I thank God for you being around as long as you were. I am so grateful for the time we had together. And all of the pictures that I have to remember you. And all of my memories, both good and well, not so good. I am grateful for missing you and being able to see past my feelings and appreciate you for who you were. You were a wonderful father, I couldn't have asked for anyone better.

As Carol and I continue to spread your ashes around the world as we travel...I hope that you are around, laughing with the two of us when we laugh. Missing us as much as we miss you.

Love,

Mel

Gifts from Dad

On Monday will be the 5 year anniversary of my Dad's death. I decided to write a letter to my Dad a few weeks ago, it is set to publish on Monday. Something has happened that I need to post today, so Monday's post may seem a little out of order...but I just need to tell you all about this.

There have been a few times in the past where when I have really missed my Dad or something big has happened in my life and coincidentally (or not?) I randomly find new pictures of him that I haven't seen. Today is no different. I received a small package in the mail from the lady my Dad was dating when he died. In it were these:

This was taken the day after my wedding:

From Pics from Dad

This was at my wedding. My Dad with his Mom and Sister:

From Pics from Dad

On the back of this photo is written - Emma, Steve, Mad, Walt:

From Pics from Dad

There is nothing written on the back of this picture:

From Pics from Dad

On the back of this picture is written - Laguna Beach, CA '04

From Pics from Dad

 

Thank you God for inspiring Linda to send these to me. This has made my year!

Recognized out in public

Justin's family came up this weekend to ski at Mt. Rose (a hidden gem in the Reno/Tahoe area). We all went to Sushimoto's here in Fernley for dinner on Sunday night, then after that, we headed to Steve's Homemade Ice Cream (the best ice cream I've ever had) to take back to our house.

That is when it happened...I was recognized. Now, a lot of people know me and Justin here in Fernley because of our crazy business (Hanly's Hounds Pooper Scooper) and because of our free Haunted House each year...but this time I was recognized by my blog. .

Steve (of Steve's Homemade Ice Cream) told me that he appreciated my kind words from the blog I wrote. I immediately was embarrassed because I never think anyone ever reads my blog. But apparently Steve got a call from friends or family in New York saying that he was blogged about. (Hi Steve!) And I turned red and was a little taken back. But it was really cool to have someone else besides family or friends tell me that they read it. So yay! Maybe knowing this will give me inspiration to have less than 17 days between blogs. Maybe.

Vintage Vanity Nail Polish Holder

My Mother-in-Law, Barbara, has this wonder and unique Nail Polish Holder thingy that I have seen her use at her house many times. It's great because it holds a bottle of nail polish and has a place for you to put your finger and paint it. It is perfect if you use the arm of your couch to paint your nails (as I often do).

So if you look at the pictures the place where you put your finger is on the right (in the first two pictures). The middle 4 prongy thingy is where you put the nail polish and the little container is actually for lipstick, but I will use it like Barbara uses hers and put in an Emory board or two and nail clippers, etc.

From Blog Photos

She has had this since she was in Middle School, I think...a neighbor boy gave it to her for her birthday and she has had it for all of these years.

I comment about it each and every time I see it. It is really clever. And for those of us (aka: me) who is always having a difficult time polishing my nails and holding onto the nail polish bottle at the same time, it is absolutely perfect.

When we were staying with Justin's parents over Christmas, she had it in her guest bathroom. Each day of our stay, I kept thinking that I would love to have something half as nice. Well, I asked her if she ever found anything remotely like it, to please buy it for me and I'll pay her back. Two sets of eyes looking around in the world is better than one set, right?

It actually only takes one set of eyes, hers not mine. She found one on ebay. ON EBAY! I've looked for about 6 years for one, never knowing what it would possibly be called. And it took her a split second to find it. She bid on it, won it and it is in the process of being shipped to my house. How awesome is that?!

Email from my Mother-In-Law

I received this email from Barbara, my Mother-in-Law, yesterday. I was dying laughing. She has a fantastic sense of humor! Without further adieu the following is direct from Barbara's email:

Ok, here's my story from this morning.

I had lots of stuff to take out to my frozen over car this morning so I made several trips. I needed to bring wrapped books for a book exchange thing, a gift for our staff assistant that got laid off, and I realized this morning that I had bought gifts for my person from the bulletin board (we are doing a secret santa thing), but never wrapped or shipped them to her. Yeah, Oh Crap.
Soooo, I am busy this morning wrapping, writing brief notes and taking out to the car because I wanted to get to work before 8am and go to the mail center before I hold everyone up. Because I also have a bunch of gifts that need to be boxed up for Adopt-a-Family and I don't have boxes.
Ok, I finally have dogs and cats taken care of , stuff in the car, windows scrapped, and suddenly remember that I had made homemade bread in the breadmaker. I remember because I smell it, wonderful.

I quickly grab with a potholder, burn the thumb, but manage to quickly get it out of the canister and decide to take a slice into work for breakfast. I butter it and put in a ziplock and finally leave for work.

All good at the mail center, I have the place to myself, so I can check out box sizes for the adopt-a-family stuff, and package-up the one to my secret santa recipient, Lisa Beaty in Texas.

Finally make it to my office, get coffee, but can't find my breakfast, the slice of buttered freshly baked bread. Search of office, backpack, gift bags for books, for Jackie, then call Bryan to see if it was left someplace or there is evidence of a compromised ziplock (Charlie).

Nope.

So, basically, I shipped my breakfast to Texas. I am calling this my Texas Toast story.

Cold Calls

We are at my in-laws house when the phone rings...and on the caller ID it says "Alzheimer's Association."

Mother-in-law very nonchalantly: "It's the Alzheimer's Association calling. They keep forgetting that I won't pick up the phone when they call."

I nearly fell off my chair laughing!

Thanksgiving

It was a long weekend. I'm actually looking forward to getting back to work. Thursday was spent not cooking. Doing some laundry, washing some dishes, getting ready to go to a classic Reno buffet with my Mom and Step-Dad for Thanksgiving dinner. While that was nice, it was not something I'd want to do again. Because I missed having leftovers, so I cooked a full turkey dinner on Saturday. My Mom and Step-Dad came over, which was really nice, but because I'm the one who spent all day cooking, everything just didn't taste as good. I had to wait until last night for left overs to actually taste it all, and it was quite good.

Then after we all were full and sleepy we all headed to Reno to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Which was fantastic! Since my Mom has troubles walking up or down too many stairs, we purchased handicapped seating. Awesome seats! We were in our own little section to ourselves, not cramped in the normal seating. This was the first time that my Mom and Step-Dad had seen TSO, they really enjoyed themselves...giving thanks that I brought earplugs for everyone. Next year, I'll have to remember sunglasses as well...their lights are CRAZY BRIGHT!

Friday was spent over my Mom's house putting up Christmas lights. Buying and putting them up. The whole process was 9 hours. But her house looks fantastic! We hooked up all of the lights to this light box (this is it, except it was from Costco and plays 40 songs and you can hook up 6 different light sections) it kind of produces this effect, except in only 6 different sections, by far not this crazy. Thankfully, she doesn't have neighbors directly across the street.

We do. And it was ok with them that we set one up in our yard. Justin hooked up our system on Saturday, while I was cooking. So we now have several people (that we've seen) a night driving by our house and stop to watch a song or two.

Let the Holidays begin!

Interruptions

My sister called me on Friday night and asked if I wanted to go out for lunch in Truckee (I thought she said Truckee) and I told her to call me on Saturday to find out for sure, because I have SO MANY things to do this weekend. She called at 10:30 on Saturday morning and I told her that have a list of no less than 5 things to do and I didn't want to drive an hour and 15 minutes one way for lunch. She said that we weren't going to meet in Truckee but in Reno. And that, in one breath from her, gave me the perfect excuse not to do my list of things for Saturday.

I couldn't have asked for a better interruption: sister time! Carol and I went to a Sushi restaurant in Reno then went to Starbucks and walked over to TJ Max where we spent the majority of our time. Our little visit made me miss living so close to her. Which is funny because she and I use to fight like cats and dogs, every waking moment. It is so nice to be at a point where we both respect and love each other and love spending time with each other.

Thank you, Carol for a wonderful day. I wouldn't have wanted to be interrupted any other way.

I'm now getting to my to do list of no lesser than 5 items.

Puppy and Paris

I'm up at 5:00 in the morning thanks to us taking home our new puppy last night. And it IS everything I remembered it was. Up every 3-4 hours, whining when not ready to go back to sleep...she has been whining in her crate for about 20 minutes now because she isn't tired...I gave her water and formula milk mixed together (she doesn't like plain water yet), I took her to go potty and both those time she just thought it was playtime. No way. We are starting her off with no bending the rules...we've learned from the first 2 pugs that bending the rules does not work out in the end for the two biggest pugs in the house (me and Justin).

She is really cute though. And it is nice having a tiny, tiny, tiny little puppy again who has no coordination and who tries to take on Olive and does a fine job at it. Pugzilla is reacting the same way he reacted with Olive...he can't look at the new puppy. Can't even look at her. But at least this time he can't look at her and he is more dismissive than holding such contempt, as he did with Olive. In a week or two that will change and all three will be playing.

We are still looking for a name. I still like Bunny (Pugsbunny would be her real name). Justin likes Martini. Or Puperoni...and the reason why he likes that is because his nickname for Pugzilla is Sausage. Then we have Olive...and then Puperoni. Funny, yes. But we don't call Pugzilla "Sausage' all of the time, which is why I don't want to call her Puperoni.

Onto Paris. That is where Justin's parents are right now. I'm so excited for them. They are staying in Paris for about 4 days, then they are heading to Spain and getting on a cruise that will take them to Italy, Greece, Turkey. They will end their trip back in Paris for a couple of days. they are having a wonderful time, Justin heard from them yesterday. I hope they take lots of pictures...lots of pictures.

Birthday Ashes

After my Dad died, my sister and I decided to take some of his ashes, put them in little boxes and scatter them wherever we go when we travel. I have only spread his ashes in Kauai so far:


I forgot to take some ashes when we went on our Disneyland/Canada trip, which sucks because Disneyland would have been a great place to do that, same with Vancouver. Oh well. It actually is a good thing that I forgot...kind of like I'm letting go a bit, so that is nice.

Anyway, being that we were traveling through Las Vegas, a place I had not wanted to go, because it has made me really sad and I also hadn't been there since my Dad died...I was worried about my reaction. But there was no way around it, we had to go through Vegas to get to Tempe, Arizona. Sometimes the only way out is through.

I had brought a box of my Dad's ashes and wanted to scatter them on the strip, but there are always so many people there, I didn't want to get my Dad's ashes on people....that is just gross. So the next best idea was to scatter them in the Bellagio fountains.

The view from the fountains, which is appropriate because my Dad took his then girlfriend, Linda to the top of the Paris Hotel tower for her birthday not long before he died:


I tossed in his ashes during the water show:


Now he is part of the water show. So when you see footage of Bellagio's water show on TV, you can now remember that my Dad is part of it now.

My Dad's birthday would have been tomorrow. Happy Birthday, my Popa!

Rosetta Stone and French Lentil Soup

Carol, my sister, went down to the Bay Area yesterday. And as she promised she went to get me a library card from the Palo Alto Library so I can have a log in code for their website to access Rosetta Stone software. Thats right folks, I'm learning Italian. I'm stoked. So thank you Carol. Or should I say " Grazie mille!"

The library card was not an easy thing to get. She had me call the main Palo Alto Library and I asked if they had the access to the Rosetta Stone software and if she could go to any branch, they said they do and any branch will work. So Carol headed to the East Palo Alto library. Did you know that the East Palo Alto library is in San Mateo County? An entirely different county than all of the other Palo Alto libraries. We didn't know that either. But Carol was awesome enough to find that out and then visit one of the actual Palo Alto libraries. However, this was my last favor I could ask of her "for the rest of the year." So again, thank you Carol! I know getting me that card was a pain in the ass. (I figure if I kiss up enough then maybe, just maybe I can ask for one more favor before the end of the year!)

And to celebrate my learning Italian. I made French Lentil Soup last night. From scratch...well, I didn't grow any of the ingredients or harvest the beans or make the veg stock. But I did cut up all of the veggies...well my Cuisinart did that for me. But I still made it from scratch. Really simple to make. You just sautee a mirepoix, add broth, add canned chopped tomatoes, add beans, bring to a boil, reduce head and simmer for 40 minutes. Take half of the beans and puree add back into the pot and you are done, done, done. I added some olive oil, a drizzle and a splash of balsamic to my bowl...it was simple and wonderful. I just wish I had a couple pieces of crusty bread to go along with the soup last night. Justin didn't like it. Not one bit. He didn't like the taste or the texture and the fact that it didn't have any meat. (He doesn't care for sausage, except on pizza or breakfast sausage, so adding that would not have made it better for him.) Oh well, I will have to make it on the nights when Justin and I are each on our own for dinner.

Weekend fun

Our weekend was fairly routine...we had 3 houses to pet sit, each twice a day. We played a lot of Wii. We created a mailer to people who already live on the streets where we have clients...might as well try to get new customers to where we already have customers, right? I created it in Photoshop...again took forever because I'm trying to learn now to do things and everything in Photoshop (yes, I know I have complained about this before) is so complicated...but worth knowing how to do such cool things.

Saturday night Scott came over and hung out, played the Wii. Justin and Scott played tennis for a while and had lots of fun.

Sunday was again messing with our mailing. We decided to custom print our envelopes so people might have a better chance of opening them, so I screwed with the design on that for a few hours yesterday.

Sunday evening Justin and I went over to my Mom's house for dinner and oh, what a yummy dinner we had. She made chicken Parmesan and spaghetti with a kicked up meat sauce that she simmered for two hours the day before (there is nothing like next-day-sauce). We really had a good time. We brought over our Wii and Mom and Ken played...we played a game of bowling...I knocked out Justin AGAIN in boxing (we've played twice now and it is my second time KO'ing him)...we fished...Justin and Ken played baseball. It really was a good time.

Then it came time for us to leave and all mothers try to make you take stuff with you...in my case we had to make two trips from the house to the car to get everything. My mom sent us home with 6 (yes, 6...the 6 that comes after 5) chicken breasts of chicken Parmesan ...and a mound of spaghetti with meat sauce and two pies that had 3/4 left. And a random frozen pre-marinated pork tendorloin. And 11 of a 12 book series that she just finished...and a piece of corningware that she had of mine...and our video camera and tripod that she had. Oh and a vase that she had of mine too. Oy! I'm making fun of it because it was comical. But I really am thankful for all of the leftovers. We won't have to cook for 3 days now. :) And Justin and I really did have a wonderful time. My mom still has it! She is the best cook.

My sister is freakin' brilliant!

I can't wear socks to bed. My feet have to be free not imprisoned in a sock. I also don't like wearing shoes and socks so I will wear open toed shoes 9 months out of the year. I don't care if it is raining or not. However my feet do care if it snows so that is when I break out the brightly colored fun socks to clash with the outfit I wear...as if to scream out to the world "I DON'T LIKE WEARING THESE SOCKS BUT SINCE I HAVE TO, I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU LOOK AT THEM!"

As a result of my need to be barefoot most of the year, I get really rough, dry, cracked heels. No amount of lotion helps, unless I can leave it on overnight. I think I was telling my sister about the time that I tried to put lotion on my feet and wrapped them in plastic wrap to keep them moist and when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night I slipped (rightfully so, because that was a very blond moment for me) on my lotion and plastic wrap and fell.

Then that is when my sister, Carol, said it: take a pair of socks and cut the toes out of them (so you have the wiggle freedom that I so crave) and lotion up your feet and then put the socks on. And it works brilliantly. It felt like my feet were fans of Madonna (in the 80's) with the cut out toes, but I was able to wear the socks to bed and not be bothered at all. I woke up this morning and my feet are so soft...so soft! And because I actually applied lotion to my feet last night, I also was able to remember to apply lotion on my arms and legs (something I never do because I don't think about it or I don't want to do it in the mornings before work so lotion gets all over my clothes).

Carol, seriously, best solution EVER! Thank you!

And Justin, thank you for letting me use a pair of your not so old and in moderate condition socks. I know it was a sacrifice for you to give up ANY pairs of your beloved (in somewhat of an unnatural way, I might add) Costco socks. I don't think I would have had the softness success I have without those thick, furry socks of yours.

My Father-In-Law is funny

Justin's parent spent the weekend with us here in Fernley and what a great time we had. We all played our newly acquired Wii and had a blast. Then we showed them the "Dick in a Box" video on YouTube that we love so much. They thought it was very funny too. That was Saturday.

Then Sunday evening before they started getting ready to leave, Pugzilla (our 5 year old Pug) was sitting on Justin's lap. Pugzilla heard a noise and jumped down, using Justin's eh..hem, "man junk" as a spring board. (This behavior is typical of both Pugzilla and Justin.) Justin made his grunt of displeasure noise, as almost any man would having a 40 pound anything use your balls as a springboard. Justin's Dad looks at him, which great fatherly concern and says, "You should have put your junk in a box."

Today's Goals

Me and my sister with my Dad when we were little.


Me and my sister with my Dad grown up.

Today's goals:

1. Laugh a lot.
2. Remember all of the good times with my Dad.
3. Do not count how many years and hours it has been since he has died (3 years and 8 minutes).
4. Do not cry out of sadness but of joy only.
   
5. Embrace the feelings of loss, pain and of missing him.
6. Do not beat up on myself for not adhering to today's goals (see #3)
7. Be okay with however I feel today.
8. Laugh a lot.
   

Drunk Bar Man

Justin and I went to our local watering hole last night. We each ordered a drink and settled it at the bar to talk with a couple of our friends. Justin looked down toward the end of the bar and there was a man ordering a drink that looked like my Dad. Justin saw the man, snapped his head around to me to tell me, "You know who that looks like..." and then Justin stopped because he wasn't sure if he should point the man out to me or not. But at that moment I saw him too.

The man was shorter than my Dad was but let me tell you, he was the closest person that I've ever seen in the past (almost) 3 years now who looked like my Dad. The hairline, my Dad's eyes, his eyebrows, his nose, he even had a graying goatee. Immediately I had tears in my eyes. I had no intention of talking to this man. I just stared for a minute while his drink came.

I had no idea he if he was a local or not and not many people know that my Dad committed suicide. It is not something that I hide but I don't want that to be "my story" – "oh, Melanie, yeah did you know her Dad shot himself?" So I have kept it pretty quiet here in Fernley.

As fate would have it the man for whatever reason made a beeline straight down the bar, making a comment to each person in turn (there were only three of us sitting at the bar…our friend Steve, then Justin and me). When he got to me he asked (and by the way was completely drunk at 7:30 pm) what was wrong (because I was in tears and starting to cry and laugh at the same time). I told him that he looks like my Dad who passed away.

And in a true drunk fashion he said in a loud voice, "No shit! I look like someone?" I said, "Yes, my Dad." He said, "You know I'm not your Dad, I'm somebody's Dad, maybe I could be your Dad…hell, I'm your Dad" and was laughing. I started crying more now while the conversation with me (sober) and him (drunk) continued in that manner for a minute or two. Then he said, "Is your Dad still around?" And I said, "No, he committed suicide a few years ago." I was trying to explain that I was upset for a reason and that my Dad meant to end his own life. I felt foolish crying at a bar full of people to a man whose only burden (at the moment) was that he looked like a stranger's dead father.

At that point he started trying to make comparisons and said, "Did you Dad smoke?" I nodded. And blew some smoke towards me while laughing…and he continued with "I look like somebody, I'm not your Dad, but I could be like your Dad." Then he asked, "I'm an alcoholic, was your Dad and alcoholic?" I replied, "Yes". All the while I'm still crying and laughing. My laugh that was not a "oh, this is so funny" but a "oh, this is unbelievable...funny, yet not…happy-ish yet so sad."

Now I need to mention that this man was not doing any of this to be malicious, he was drunk and was a happy drunk. He was just pleased the he knew he looked like somebody. Then he asked again if my Dad was alive. I told him again, "No, my Dad died almost 3 years ago now, he committed suicide." He said, "I've thought about that, drinking myself to death." And knowing what I have been through but also knowing that he was drunk and that most of what I said he wouldn't remember anyway I started to tell him all of the reasons why he shouldn't kill himself. I don't think it got very far with him considering the circumstances that he was drunk talking to a crying stranger. If I were him, I probably wouldn't have put much thought into a pleading stranger to not kill myself either.

During this whole conversation, Justin was sitting right next to me and he interjected here and there, but mostly he sat there listening, fighting back tears (and not doing such a great job at points) and just shaking his head a lot.

Then there was a point which this man asked, "How do you feel about your Dad now?" And not that it mattered that I answered the question for this man, but it mattered how I answered this question for me. I took a deep breath and I said, "I feel sad, very sad that my Dad was in so much pain." And he gave me a happy hug. It was all very surreal.

[I noticed that my answer wasn't: angry, bitter, resentful, cheated, cynical, etc. It was simply: sad. I have spent the past few years trying to answer the question of "why" and being mad at my Dad, that I don't remember when all of my anger and bitterness and questioning just turned to sadness. I can attribute a lot of it to my Discovery Seminar (see past blog) but I can't tell you for sure. But I can tell you that I have never been happier that I am now sad. Because by being sad I am edging slowly toward complete acceptance (without playing the victim) and may be able to look back at my Dad with happiness. I don't know how long that will take but for now I am happy to be sad.]

Back to the man who looks like my Dad…I finally, after quite a few minutes, had to tell him that it was very painful to continue to have a conversation with him because of how much he looked like my Dad. I wished him the best and he left to sit at the other end of the bar.

After our one drink, Justin asked if we should leave. And for a moment I contemplated staying but decided that I was so emotionally exhausted that I wanted to leave.

In the car on our way back home I couldn't believe that encounter happened. I told Justin at points it seemed like my Dad was channeling through this man – because his mannerisms and things that my Dad would have said, this man said…surreal is a complete understatement. Even recalling the events of last night to write this blog it seems like last night was a complete, 100% dream. I'm honestly going to have to ask Justin when he wakes up if it was real.

As painful as last night was, I am grateful. Grateful for: (1) if that was my Dad channeling through this random, look-a-like stranger, I had a moment with my Dad to tell him that I felt so sad that he was in so much pain (2) that there are no accidents and I was able realize that I am sad and not angry anymore (3) that Justin was there with me the whole time. I must say that Justin is my rock. He is so steady, I'm grateful that he is always there for whatever it is that I need.

There are no accidents. I just hope I am able to take away from this what I need to in order to help heal my soul without my personality getting in the way. I'm sure by writing this for all of you to read is step one. Thank you for listening, really, thank you.

Sateen sheets

My Mom, of all people, bought my sister and I each a set of sateen sheets for Christmas. My Mom is so wanting a grandchild...

Anywho, Justin and I put the sateen sheets on the bed for the first time last night (for Valentine's Day) and let me tell you....that was the most awesome feeling in the world to be wraped in those sheets. It sucks that each time I see the sheets I think of my Mom but that is a whole other conversation to have with Freud when I die.

Guys...buy sateen sheets for your women...Girls...buy sateen sheets even if you are single...it is an affordable luxury for sure!