OM3! Number 33 is Ruling Me: Obsession or Something More?

The number 33 has been ruling my life for the past seven years now. I rarely speak about it because my family thinks I’m a big enough weirdo, I was trying to spare them. They almost escaped. Unfortunately (for them), I’m a die-hard BING Reward chaser, and that literally is what cost them.

Let me tell you friends, there are a LOT of people out there like me (YES!), and the association with these numbers consumes them as it does me. I notice it all the time, and everywhere. Like here:

333 Words in a Blog Post I Wrote Recently that Briefly Mentioned DNA
333 Words in a Blog Post I Wrote Recently that Briefly Mentioned DNA

What the Hell am I Talking About?

My dad passed away when I was 33.

He was found dead in his apartment, which was #33.

It was located on California State Highway 33.

He worked for at the same business for 33 years.

It was located at 33 N. Salado.

He would have been sixty-two years old on September 23, 2014.

It Gets So Unbelievable: Are You Buckled Up?

 

I have been bombarded with the number’s 33 and 333 for a couple weeks now; more so than ever. The frequency of the number sequences has gotten so overwhelming, I started documenting them to prove to those around me that I was still semi-sane.

I came across this discovery as I was searching for past stories I’ve written about my dad. Look at the top left-hand side of this screen shot. Right above a note I wrote about my grandpa.

33 Notes Stored on Facebook
33 Notes Stored on Facebook

To me, the numbers have always been positive indicators. They have always reminded me my dad was still here. They’ve busted me acting up,  as a reminder that I’m not alone and provide encouragement to forge ahead. I know I’m a weirdo–Keep reading, it’s about to get better.

This Photo Taken in 2010 at a Gas Station Down the Street. I first started watching after I saw this. It was 3 years after my dad passed.
This Photo Taken in 2010 at a Gas Station Down the Street. I first started watching after I saw this. It was 3 years after my dad passed.

My relationship with my dad was rocky from the start. To say we bumped heads would be an understatement. He and I clashed, and it sucked.

I never understood how to communicate with him, always fought for his attention and mimicked his stubbornness, especially while under the influence of beer. I didn’t get his approval, or accolades, or support, or encouragement-from him, I got a lot of “blah”.

That all changed a couple years before he died. The last years with him were good. He was present, watched my boys, tried to follow along with my life, and evolved into a pleasant man. Although we got on each other’s nerves, it wasn’t as bad as the previous years.

So, Back to The 3’s

A Tweet I Sent With 33 Looking at Me
A Tweet I Sent With 33 Looking at Me. Ironic? It Was a Shout Out to My Dad.

I noticed the number three and its correlation to my dad pretty soon after his death. As you can imagine, I also began to notice the number’s 33 and 333 more often.

At first, I’d see the numbers and think it was cool, and sent a shout out to my dad. There was peace that gave me the sense of knowing, (in my weird way) that he was still around, looking out for my me, my kids, and my sister. No one else in the family had this connection, so I felt special.

Overwhelming feelings of gravitation toward recognizing the presence of these numbers has gnawed at me for the past seven years. It’s as if they are trying to say the meaning is greater than what I am interpreting.

Naturally, I think I’m dying.

I know it’s irritating, but I can’t help it. I built to process things differently than most-God knows I’ve spent years trying to change it, but I have no choice. I over-analyze, and literally drive myself crazy, trying to find more; which in all honesty, drives everybody else crazier than it does me.
Naturally, that makes me pursue it further, and that’s exactly what I did today.

I have NO IDEA why but in seven years, I’ve never put any real research into this phenomenon. I’ve talked about it, posted pictures on Facebook, made anyone near me stop to look at the clock when I’ve caught it at 3:33, but I never looked into an actual meaning before now.

Computer Screen Shot at 3:33
Computer Screen Shot at 3:33

 

It was September 23, 2014, and it was a long one full of thought, disbelief, confusion, and excitement. If everything adds up—what does it all mean?

Let’s just say I was a bit shocked at the results, as I read some philosophy behind the meaning. Let’s break it down according to Creative Numerology.

Screenshot from Creative Numerology about 33
Screenshot from Creative Numerology

Who wants to know what my numbers are?

Here goes:

My birthday:

1+2+2+7=12=1+2=3

September 23, 2014

9+2+3+7=21=2+1=3

I went on to break down every birthday I could think of; family members, friends, strangers… NO ONE else has a life number of 3. So, what does it all mean? I’m exploring more. I’ll be back. Leave an opinion if you’ve got one.

Top 10 Funny Mishaps From 90-Year-Old Papa

My nap was interrupted this morning by overwhelming thoughts of my grandpa. We called him Papa Matteri. It’s a good thing I love him so much (may he rest in peace!), because missing my A.M. snooze makes me a little cranky. Originally posted on Robin Matteri Facebook in 2011

Papa died about one-month shy of his 90th birthday, so don’t be sad, he lived a full life. His life was a mixture of ups and downs; some good, some bad, some stupid, and some sad.

Papa Matteri and Nicholas
Papa and Nicholas (Age 3) cruising all over town together.To my sister, my cousin, and me he was always good, and always hilarious. For no reason, I feel like sharing–I think we can all relate, even if the stories are a little different.

The Top 10 Funniest Things Papa Matteri Did (off the top of my head!) before dying at 90

10. His desire to be deaf.

As a child, I remember my grandma constantly yelling at Papa about his hearing. She told us repeatedly that he “only heard what he wanted to hear.” As a child, this never made sense to me. I finally understood her frustration when I was an adult. The aggravation of trying to have a conversation with him became, at times, so unnerving that I just walked away.

Typical Conversation went like this:

Me: “You need hearing aids!!”

Papa:“Huh?”

Me:“Heeeaaarrrrinnngggg A-I-D-S!”

Papa: “Oh, shit, I can’t hear you.”

This exact interaction occurred between him and every member of my family on a daily basis.

9. Who wants to spy on Papa?

Let’s just say that as children we weren’t as fortunate as the youth of today with an abundance of technology. When we played, we had to get creative.

My grandpa worked the night shift at Hank’s Deli and would typically sleep a lot during the day. With nothing better to do, Michelle, Alan and I would crawl around the house like we were in the army, creep into Papa’s room with super stealth-like moves and totally mess with him.

We’d tickle his toes with a feather, tickle his nose or just crawl around trying not to laugh. The object of the game was to piss Papa off (for some reason), and we always won.

8. Yeah, I have my license, I can drive. I was 14.

He owned a 1972 Chevy Pick-Up (still parked out on the Ranch somewhere), and I wanted to drive. We were twenty-two miles north of Patterson when I asked him.

Papa's Chevy Robin Matteri Facebook
The Chevy Pick-Up- Maybe in not so much of its glory these days…but still alive.

I about panicked when he pulled to the side of the road on Highway 33, got out of the pick-up, walked to the passenger side, and told me to take over.

I made it less than a mile before I started crying, and fessed up.

7. Want to kill him and bury him in the backyard?

Ummmm, No.

I cross my heart; he was just acting macho. No one is buried in the backyard.

Papa ain’t that gangsta!

My Grandpa Being Funny
Papa Matteri and Tyler. He was always a funny man to us.

6. Who bought Papa, a cell phone?

Why, thank you Alan. In the event of an emergency, Alan thought it would be good for Papa to have a cell phone. Well, unlike the rest of my family, I answered when he called 300 times a day. Please refer to number ten on this list and imagine those calls.

5. His love of poker.

English: Quads Aces, to represent poker games.
English: Quads Aces, to represent poker games. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Back in the day (40-50 years ago), the hottest poker game in town and on the streets was called Lo-Ball. Papa loved his poker.

As the name implies, the object was to get the lowest five-card hand instead of the highest in most poker games.

Now, please keep this in mind: With seventeen years experience in the world of poker and casinos, I have heard everyone use “bad luck” to defend their losses in gambling. In most cases, luck had nothing to do with it.

Most people lose because they play poorly.

However, in all those years, I will confirm TWO people who truly had bad luck at the poker table.

One was Papa.

When I started dealing poker in the Central Valley, Papa began to become a more frequent customer.

“Looks like you’re working for free today Robin,” said my supervisor whenever he walked through the door. The entire card room called him Papa, and every time he played, I bankrolled him with my tips.

He could never figure out how to play “that stupid high game” (as he called it), so he sat down playing Omaha, a version of high and low poker. Without boring you non-poker people with all the details, let’s just say it’s a hard game.

Let’s also say that in small poker rooms customers are enticed to play with promotions and jackpots worth thousands of dollars. Poker players everywhere are waiting to hit the “jackpot” to break even from their losses.

One night I walked up behind Papa, as he was in a hand of Omaha, and I heard him say, “raise!”

He was excited; his hands were shaking like a leaf (odd for a veteran like him), and he couldn’t wait to dump all his chips into the pot.

Which he eventually did after a series of re-raises between two players. Papa, of course, was one of them.

When Papa was out of chips, it was time for the showdown. This is the part where the players turn their cards face-up.

I looked at Papa’s hand, and there it was in all its beauty…… 3-3-3-3. Quad 3’s. As Papa started to get excited, his opponent turned his hand over and beat him with a Straight Flush.

Papa was about 80 at the time, and this was the first time he had ever made a hand this big. AND OF COURSE, it got beat. And to kick an old man while he was already down, the hand didn’t qualify for any promotional jackpot. Papa got screwed that night. But don’t worry, he didn’t lose any money, I did.

He was back the following day as if nothing ever happened.

4. Papa and his scooter.

There are so many funny things to say about this and then, of course, there is a picture that will forever be in my heart. Him on his scooter and Nicholas on his tricycle, cruising around as happy as can be. BUT, the funniest thing ever was the time he ran Uncle Jack over with that thing—-TWICE!

Papa Matteri on his scooter after running Uncle Jack over
Looks like he’s aiming for Uncle Jack now.

It had apparently been having some problems so Uncle Jack said he would look at it. As he was inspecting the front-end, Papa hit the accelerator and knocked Jack to the ground. Funny huh?

Well, imagine what happened when Uncle Jack attempted to examine the rear of the vessel? You guessed it; one wrong move and Papa backed over Jack.

Happiness is witnessing those moments.

3. An illegal left turn.

As Papa approached 87 or 88-years old, the California Department of Motor Vehicles made him take a behind-the-wheel driving test before they would renew his license. Thank you DMV!

Papa failed this test due to an illegal left-hand turn on a red light.

Of course, his failed test was my fault.

According to Papa, I had messed with his visor earlier in the day, which obstructed his view, and caused him to think that under the RED light, there was a green arrow instructing drivers to turn left.

My bad!

2. All these old people.

At one point in Papa’s life, he was forced to stay in a nursing home to recover from a hospital visit. It was minor; his stay was short and we visited almost every day. He was 88 years-old.

At one visit, he looked at me and said, “all these old people are making me depressed.” I freaking busted up laughing.

First of all, he had them all out-aged by at least 20 years, and second, every time we visited he would lay in his bed and all dramatic about his situation. Seriously, it was a wound on his leg that was taking a long time to heal. However, the drama king didn’t realize how depressed he made us by begging us to kill him on every single visit.

“Just put a pillow over my head!”—Papa from the Nursing Home to Me

OMG…… oh and while I’m thinking about it….thanks to the facility for also allowing him access to a PHONE!!

“Robin come kill me. Robin, come kill me”

To which I responded:

“I can’t Papa. Tyler and Nicholas need a mom who isn’t in prison.”  

My bad….again!

1. Going to Alaska.

In 2005, Papa was about 82 or 83-years old, when he called me. “Robin, I’m going to Alaska.”

Say what??!!

Papa needed me to go with him to Modesto to get his birth certificate so he could get a passport, because he was “going to drive an old man and his camping trailer to Alaska so the old man could go fishing.”

Deep breath.

The “old man” was 90 and blind. Why was this happening? How did no one in the family try to stop him? Why were we already at the point in this mission where he was convinced he was going? Why was I getting in my car to take him to get his birth certificate?

Well, because he was an old man. To hell with it. Let it be known now, since it’s obvious they made it to Alaska and back safely, that Papa had very little feeling in his feet and had to tap his hands continuously because they felt numb all the time.

The deaf old man (refer to number 10), and the blind old man took a three-week journey to Alaska and back. If I had honestly thought they were going all the way, I would have contacted Hollywood and installed hidden cameras. I thought for sure Papa would get to Sacramento (the next day) and say something similar to this: “forget this, I’m going home.”

But, he didn’t.

He took that old man fishing.

Man, I miss him.
//

You’re Officially a Parent to an Adult: Now What? (Great For New Parents Too)

I’m officially the parent of an adult. If this revelation doesn’t make a girl feel old, well, nothing will. At the end of this year, I’ll turn forty and that still doesn’t make me feel as old as I do when I look at my baby boy-and an adult stares back at me.

I never thought this day would come, for two reasons:

  1. I’m pretty sure I should be dead by now. It took me a few years to get it “together” and there were times when I wasn’t sure.
  2. I’m no different than any other mother. In my mind, that child is still watching Barney the purple dinosaur, calling me Moma, and needs the Cheerios cut in half.
    A box of Cheerios breakfast cereal.
    A box of Cheerios breakfast cereal. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Yes, friends, my son is eighteen. He’s still a senior in high school, but I’m sure, as I type these words, he’s out buying lottery tickets, cigarettes, and adult magazines. After all, I planned his birth so perfectly that his admission into adulthood fell on a Friday. The “party” I had for him tonight should have been for me.

I am officially the parent of an adult, my son turns eighteen. Now what am  I supposed to do?
This whole “growing older thing” isn’t bothering him. Me? That’s a different story.

I did all the work—from creation to enduring fat ankles, to pushing, to raising, to panicking…. I’m the one who had to quit drinking and smoking for nine months, give or take!

He just popped out into the world like, “WAT up lady! I’m gonna give you a heart-attack by the time you’re thirty.”“What’s up lady! I’m gonna give you a heart-attack by the time you’re thirty.”

And I, like a naive new mother, just stared at him in amazement-completely oblivious to the fact that one day, he’d be a man.

The Big Question: What Do I Do Now?

After some consideration and a few tears, I devised a plan that offers solutions for my greatest challenges and concerns.

Recognize the Past as the Past: Every parent has regret, guilt, and a bit of remorse over things that could’ve been done differently. God knows I’ve cried myself to sleep at times with worry. In order to be the best Mother, going forward, I can only acknowledge mistakes from the past and learn from them. In order to get over the past, I have to forgive myself. (Check!)

Let Him Figure Explore Life Through His Own Mistakes: There, I said it, and it’s the truth. In order to make sure I don’t hinder the life lesson’s my son deserves, I have no choice but to allow him to make his own decisions. I have to also allow him to experience success and failure in decision-making. The hardest part is shutting up. I’ve been practicing though, so I’m feeling confident. (Check!)

Tip: New parents can avoid the regret, and guilt or minimize it by learning how to plan for all the stages of growth. I wish I had.

Build a Relationship With an Adult: He’s no longer my baby; that realization is finally sinking in. With that being said, I’m committed to building a relationship that is solid in respect, admiration, and love. I’m excited to watch my son navigate through life as an adult, I really a. (Check!)

Tell Him I’m Ready to be a Grandma: What!! He’s a teenager, he refuses to do what I say. (Check-MATE!)

Tell Him Only Idiots go to College: Ditto! (Check!)

Tip: Take advantage of the savings Amazon offers to college students when you join Amazon Student. There’s still time to plan ahead for the next leg of the trip.

My son is eighteen and I'm the parent of an adult.
He is now an adult, and I couldn’t be prouder.

You’re Not The Boss of Me, These Two Are

The CEO and CFO of “Robin Matteri Writer”

CEO and CFO of ME--My Boys

 

 

 

….. the company doing business as, “Mom!”

 

I may not punch in and out, and do not have hours consistent to you regular folks— ya know, like, Monday to Friday. The wages may be borderline on nothing, but, the fringe benefits are enormous.

Thanks for supporting us by reading my writing…. it’s appreciated by everyone.

My son and I age 10 1293832509587

Coolio Foolio—You Work From Home

 

When I tell people I work from home the most common response is, “Lucky! I wish I could.” While most of the time it’s a fantastic gig, there is a lot of other “work” involved in working from home. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I work from home, and make it work
My Pinterest DIY That I’m so Proud of-Absolutely Describes Me

It’s 11:18 AM on Wednesday and I’ve already sent my man to work, kid to school, written an article on the power of the subconscious-mind (duly noted many techniques!), thawed and browned chicken and potatoes (recipe to follow), fielded PTA emails, sent out tweets promoting my homeless article, researched new topics to write, showered (only because I have an appointment today), killed time looking at YouTube videos, wiped baseboards in kitchen and bathroom, killed a spider (before my eight-year old saw it!) and there’s still at least 12 more hours left to this day.

 

I work from home.

Do I love it?

ABSOLUTELY!

 

Get Away From My Mom
Get Away From My Mom (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

How I Work From Home?

 I’m a writer. Glamour aside, I write to survive. I mostly produce website content, and personal perspectives like the one you’re reading now. I worked as a poker dealer for seventeen years which was a job that consisted of a lot of night shifts. Today, my children are in school and that means night-time is their time.

So, I write….during the day, and here and there in the evenings (I’m picking up on this story at 7:18 PM) and after midnight. In between that; I scrub floors, wash laundry, pick up kids, serve dinner, play kick board, watch Catfish: The TV Show, help with homework, tweet, Facebook, read, write a letter, knock down cobwebs, sanitize toilets, scoop ice cream, watch Who The Bleep Did I Marry?, tuck everyone into bed, try to sleep, get up, get down, write some more, watch True Tori, check for writing jobs, start an application, update resume, promote writing, fall asleep… Up again at 4:30 AM, check my phone, close my eyes, hit snooze, sleep another hour and start all over.

 

I love it!

 

How to make it Work?

I need a better system. I know this. I love to be scattered so this gig works for me. For the more structured work-at-home-mom, I suggest a schedule. It’s a process of discipline and figuring out an order of importance. For the most part, I have a schedule. But, most days are eerily similar to the one described today. I love the freedom and I love the flexibility. I am able to help with field trips and organizations within the school. I’m able to spend quality time with my family which is the most important.

I am a work in process and am still diligently trying to work out a schedule that is more conducive to effectively managing

 

Dinner

In a skillet, grill chopped up onion, garlic, salt and pepper in a mix of butter and olive oil.

Throw in quartered red potatoes and cook until brown.

Once brown, add to crockpot.

In same skillet, brown chicken thighs (I use thighs a lot. They are inexpensive and full of flavor) in olive oil.

Once thighs are brown, add to crockpot as well.

Add one cup of chicken broth and one package of dry onion soup mix to crockpot.

Cook on high for 3 hours then reduce heat to low for 1 hour.

Add asparagus to crockpot to steam in the last hour of cooking.

Easy, delicious and loved by the whole family. Enjoy!