And so this is Christmas, and what have you done. Another year over, a new ones begun...a very merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year, let's hope it's a good one, without any fear.
Angels we have heard on high Sweetly singing o'er the plains, And the mountains in reply. Echoing their joyous strains.
I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need, I don't care about the presents underneath my Christmas tree
Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the new born king, peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinner reconciled.
I love Christmas carols, I love Christmas. One of my very favorite things that happened during this time of the year wasn't the year I got my Barbie camper with all of the neat playing pieces, although it was pretty freakin sweet, but was I had my daughter Katheryn Noelle on December 24th.
I don't want a lot for Christmas. I want my family and friends to be happy and healthy. To know even though the road might be hard right now, things will get better. The easiest path isn't always the right path.
And the things I do want, really want can't possibly happen in real life, so I dream them. I would love to lay down to sleep on a cloud. I would love to speak to my dad one more time. I would love to be every thing I ever dreamed of being. I would love to walk Beau. I would love to save every good dream I have ever had so I can revisit them. So I dream and always will.
I would love to see my friends, my far away friends too, whenever I wanted. Just to have a cup of coffee and talk.
I don't want a lot for Christmas. I have every thing I need, and most of what I want.
So my short Christmas blog is to wish all of those that mean so much to me a peaceful and beautiful Christmas. That the feeling we have on Christmas morning lasts all year long.
Thank you for being a part of my life, without you all, my life wouldn't be as awesome as it is.
And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays, or whatever greeting you'd prefer. It is offered with the most genuine love I have.
~and that is the true meaning of Christmas Charlie Brown
Monday, December 24, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Happy Birthday Dad
For when he would flex his biceps for me when I was little. I thought he was the strongest man in the world and he was my hero.
For when he would check under my bed for alligators that I just knew ran in fear when he did that and tucking me in so my arms and legs wouldn't have a chance of hanging over the bed in case they came back after he left.
For when he would make me laugh at Christmas Eve Mass for singing off key at the top of his lungs. Mom would separate us and be so angry at us for horsing around.
For loving the holidays the way he did and making it such a big event in our house. He was happy when the whole family, as extended as it could be, was there, happy and celebrating together and instilling that quality in me.
For him loving my husband to be the way he did. And quietly accepting our unconventional meeting and engagement telling my mom, "there is something special about him" and knowing I had found my happily ever after.
For the ride in our limo to the church the day I was married holding my hand and saying to me, "it's not too late to back out kid" because he didn't want to lose me so soon.
For dancing with him at my wedding, knowing the tears weren't going to stop as I danced to "Daddy's little girl" with him.
For him showing me the way a husband should treat his wife. The way a real man treated a woman, with respect and love.
For loving each and every one of his granddaughters the way he did and teasing me that "not everyone can have kids with plumbing on the outside". How the sun rose and set around his girls....
For fighting his illnesses the way he did. With the dignity and grace and courage that made me love and respect him the way I do.
For finally stopping the fight and knowing your reward in Paradise was waiting. It was time to rest after so many years.
For the hole in my heart that will never be fixed since you left me.
For being the first superhero this little girl ever believed in.
For missing you every single day since you stopped your suffering.
For kissing me good bye in my dream last night and the tears that haven't stopped since I woke up.
Happy Birthday Dad, I miss you today and always
Dee
For when he would check under my bed for alligators that I just knew ran in fear when he did that and tucking me in so my arms and legs wouldn't have a chance of hanging over the bed in case they came back after he left.
For when he would make me laugh at Christmas Eve Mass for singing off key at the top of his lungs. Mom would separate us and be so angry at us for horsing around.
For loving the holidays the way he did and making it such a big event in our house. He was happy when the whole family, as extended as it could be, was there, happy and celebrating together and instilling that quality in me.
For him loving my husband to be the way he did. And quietly accepting our unconventional meeting and engagement telling my mom, "there is something special about him" and knowing I had found my happily ever after.
For the ride in our limo to the church the day I was married holding my hand and saying to me, "it's not too late to back out kid" because he didn't want to lose me so soon.
For dancing with him at my wedding, knowing the tears weren't going to stop as I danced to "Daddy's little girl" with him.
For him showing me the way a husband should treat his wife. The way a real man treated a woman, with respect and love.
For loving each and every one of his granddaughters the way he did and teasing me that "not everyone can have kids with plumbing on the outside". How the sun rose and set around his girls....
For fighting his illnesses the way he did. With the dignity and grace and courage that made me love and respect him the way I do.
For finally stopping the fight and knowing your reward in Paradise was waiting. It was time to rest after so many years.
For the hole in my heart that will never be fixed since you left me.
For being the first superhero this little girl ever believed in.
For missing you every single day since you stopped your suffering.
For kissing me good bye in my dream last night and the tears that haven't stopped since I woke up.
Happy Birthday Dad, I miss you today and always
Dee
Thursday, November 22, 2012
A few Thanksgiving Thoughts
Thanksgiving makes me vaklempt for some reason. Maybe it's all of the memories from my childhood. Then I think of everyone I have been away from for so long, or have left this earth and start missing them. So many of the people that made my memories up are no longer with me and that stings. When I smell my turkey cooking I am instantly transported back in time to a happy place. Damn sense of smell has some nerve getting me all welly like this!
As I was cooking this morning I thought of when my Nanny turned over gravy making duties to me. It was a moment that I will never forget. Kind of like winning the gold medal in the Thanksgiving making Olympics. I can remember sitting in her kitchen absolutely engrossed in all she was doing to make our dinner. I can remember when we switched to having it at my mom and dad's house because our clan was outgrowing her house. I can remember my dad having to build an extension for their dining room table after awhile because we were still growing and needed more table space.
Then I got married and moved away. Oh I went back for a Thanksgiving for a few years, but it's hard to travel on that day. Particularly on the NJ Turnpike and 95 south, and with kids, so I started building a tradition for our family here.
Fast forward to the here and now, cooking like crazy for my family. It's just us, but my girls keep asking if I remembered to get this, or did I get that. And the "just us" grew by two, a number which will continue to increase exponentially my daughter Erin pointed out. With my four girls I am bound to be blessed with more significant others of theirs and their children. I want to add an addition on to my Thanksgiving table some day.
I kind of get it now, how my mom and her mom would cook like they did. We always joked around that it took days to get ready, and it was gone in minutes. But it brought us all together, just for one day, just to celebrate all we are blessed with, just to forget anything bothering us and just to enjoy each other.
It was an expression of love.....
And I just love carrying on that tradition.
Happy Thanksgiving! Love you all!
As I was cooking this morning I thought of when my Nanny turned over gravy making duties to me. It was a moment that I will never forget. Kind of like winning the gold medal in the Thanksgiving making Olympics. I can remember sitting in her kitchen absolutely engrossed in all she was doing to make our dinner. I can remember when we switched to having it at my mom and dad's house because our clan was outgrowing her house. I can remember my dad having to build an extension for their dining room table after awhile because we were still growing and needed more table space.
Then I got married and moved away. Oh I went back for a Thanksgiving for a few years, but it's hard to travel on that day. Particularly on the NJ Turnpike and 95 south, and with kids, so I started building a tradition for our family here.
Fast forward to the here and now, cooking like crazy for my family. It's just us, but my girls keep asking if I remembered to get this, or did I get that. And the "just us" grew by two, a number which will continue to increase exponentially my daughter Erin pointed out. With my four girls I am bound to be blessed with more significant others of theirs and their children. I want to add an addition on to my Thanksgiving table some day.
I kind of get it now, how my mom and her mom would cook like they did. We always joked around that it took days to get ready, and it was gone in minutes. But it brought us all together, just for one day, just to celebrate all we are blessed with, just to forget anything bothering us and just to enjoy each other.
It was an expression of love.....
And I just love carrying on that tradition.
Happy Thanksgiving! Love you all!
Monday, September 17, 2012
My Martin's Moment
I live at the grocery store. I walk in to our local Martin's and it's kind of like when Norm walked into Cheers
I walk in and everyone says DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I have been living there even more than before.
Anyway, I have been feeling out of sorts lately, wishing to find a way to be relevant, wishing I could be the type of person who can change the world, or at least do something noteworthy. I have been feeling so unsatisfied, so unimportant.
All of that would have to wait, I have a house full of people who need to eat so off to the grocery store I went, with a daughter and her friend in tow so they could "help" me shop. Yes, their brand of help is unique, I usually wind up spending way more than I intended and they drive me batty through the whole store. This trip was no different.
By the time we had gotten to the drink aisle we had filled up one cart and the underneath too. My "helpers" volunteered to get another cart. There was an older woman in that aisle that laughed as they went to get it and said, "great help you have there". I countered with how I loved them to death but they were driving me nuts. Then, for whatever reason I finished with, "I know I am going to miss these moments though, so I am thankful for every one". Really?? Why on earth did that just pop out. I don't know this woman from Adam.
I'll tell you why - this woman had a story to tell me, she had a message for me, for the me struggling with feeling inadequate and insignificant, and she started to tell it.
She has one daughter I learned. One daughter she had mommy/daughter time with every Tuesday without fail. Through grade school, through High School, when they could during college....Then her daughter graduated and moved to Wisconsin. "Broke my heart that she left me, but like all good parents you support your child and hope they are happy and successful." My eyes grew kind of rheumy, I know what she means. You want your child to spread their wings and fly, positively soar to the heights you dreamed of for them, I shook myself back from my own thoughts, she continued her tale.
"I found out I had cancer. I knew I had to call her and tell her, hardest phone call I had to make. I told her how we were going to treat it, how long it would take. I told her I would beat it, because you're still a mom and don't want your children upset. You're their mom and even in your moment of need, you need to still be that mom that keeps your kid safe." I won't even tell you how welly I got at that point, that I am in Martin's Coke aisle, tears threatening to roll, absolutely rapt at the story a total stranger is telling me.
"So I don't call her for a day," she continued. "I figured I'd give a day for her to digest every thing and we'd talk again when she was over the initial shock. But I didn't hear from her the next day, so I called, no answer. I was worried. And as I hung my phone up, I kid you not, she walked in the door. She had hung up with me the day I told her, packed a bag, got in her car and drove home to me. Then she told me she was home for 5 months and would fight with me. Go to my treatments with me, take care of me".
Yes, the tears are trickling out now. Slowly, deliberately, kind of like the way she was telling her story. I was so moved by this daughter, I was moved that this woman was telling me this....
"I beat my cancer. I'm a survivor!" she said next. "So my husband says I'm buying you guys tickets, tickets to Africa, you're going on a Safari, your life's dream, that will be your next mommy/daughter moment. So we went and had the time of our lives!!" I am smiling along with her, so happy that she had such a colossal mommy/daughter moment, WOW a safari. Too cool, I've always wanted to go on one myself I was thinking. Then I realized she was speaking to me again, she said, "you never know do you? Never know what is going to happen. Don't live your life wishing it away. Enjoy every moment in the now, because you never know, it could be your last..."
With that, she gave me the tightest hug, smiled, winked and walked away. I was left in the middle of the Soda aisle wondering if that just happened, and smiling, wiping away the tears that her story brought.
I like to think it was a higher authority's way of giving me a kick in the butt. Telling me that I am significant, I might not find the cure for cancer, but I have 3 kids in this house, and one that lives on her own, that need me. I make a difference in their lives every day. I have a husband that I love and support through all of his endeavors, even like when he tried to kill me with the Sharkfest Swim from Alcatraz hahaha, and who I know depends on that support to make it through his crazy days.. I have two dogs and one foster dog that need me. They need me to love and take care of them. I have spent the last how many weeks nursing Barney, a severely neglected poodle back to health, he wouldn't be flourishing the way he is without me.
So I guess I do have a purpose. No, I'm not curing cancer, but I can kiss a boo boo away, help mend a broken heart, nurse an abused animal...and maybe all of my little things make up a big thing...
Whatever, all I know is I was given a gift in the Soda aisle in Martin's, one that I really needed to receive.
I walk in and everyone says DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I have been living there even more than before.
Anyway, I have been feeling out of sorts lately, wishing to find a way to be relevant, wishing I could be the type of person who can change the world, or at least do something noteworthy. I have been feeling so unsatisfied, so unimportant.
All of that would have to wait, I have a house full of people who need to eat so off to the grocery store I went, with a daughter and her friend in tow so they could "help" me shop. Yes, their brand of help is unique, I usually wind up spending way more than I intended and they drive me batty through the whole store. This trip was no different.
By the time we had gotten to the drink aisle we had filled up one cart and the underneath too. My "helpers" volunteered to get another cart. There was an older woman in that aisle that laughed as they went to get it and said, "great help you have there". I countered with how I loved them to death but they were driving me nuts. Then, for whatever reason I finished with, "I know I am going to miss these moments though, so I am thankful for every one". Really?? Why on earth did that just pop out. I don't know this woman from Adam.
I'll tell you why - this woman had a story to tell me, she had a message for me, for the me struggling with feeling inadequate and insignificant, and she started to tell it.
She has one daughter I learned. One daughter she had mommy/daughter time with every Tuesday without fail. Through grade school, through High School, when they could during college....Then her daughter graduated and moved to Wisconsin. "Broke my heart that she left me, but like all good parents you support your child and hope they are happy and successful." My eyes grew kind of rheumy, I know what she means. You want your child to spread their wings and fly, positively soar to the heights you dreamed of for them, I shook myself back from my own thoughts, she continued her tale.
"I found out I had cancer. I knew I had to call her and tell her, hardest phone call I had to make. I told her how we were going to treat it, how long it would take. I told her I would beat it, because you're still a mom and don't want your children upset. You're their mom and even in your moment of need, you need to still be that mom that keeps your kid safe." I won't even tell you how welly I got at that point, that I am in Martin's Coke aisle, tears threatening to roll, absolutely rapt at the story a total stranger is telling me.
"So I don't call her for a day," she continued. "I figured I'd give a day for her to digest every thing and we'd talk again when she was over the initial shock. But I didn't hear from her the next day, so I called, no answer. I was worried. And as I hung my phone up, I kid you not, she walked in the door. She had hung up with me the day I told her, packed a bag, got in her car and drove home to me. Then she told me she was home for 5 months and would fight with me. Go to my treatments with me, take care of me".
Yes, the tears are trickling out now. Slowly, deliberately, kind of like the way she was telling her story. I was so moved by this daughter, I was moved that this woman was telling me this....
"I beat my cancer. I'm a survivor!" she said next. "So my husband says I'm buying you guys tickets, tickets to Africa, you're going on a Safari, your life's dream, that will be your next mommy/daughter moment. So we went and had the time of our lives!!" I am smiling along with her, so happy that she had such a colossal mommy/daughter moment, WOW a safari. Too cool, I've always wanted to go on one myself I was thinking. Then I realized she was speaking to me again, she said, "you never know do you? Never know what is going to happen. Don't live your life wishing it away. Enjoy every moment in the now, because you never know, it could be your last..."
With that, she gave me the tightest hug, smiled, winked and walked away. I was left in the middle of the Soda aisle wondering if that just happened, and smiling, wiping away the tears that her story brought.
I like to think it was a higher authority's way of giving me a kick in the butt. Telling me that I am significant, I might not find the cure for cancer, but I have 3 kids in this house, and one that lives on her own, that need me. I make a difference in their lives every day. I have a husband that I love and support through all of his endeavors, even like when he tried to kill me with the Sharkfest Swim from Alcatraz hahaha, and who I know depends on that support to make it through his crazy days.. I have two dogs and one foster dog that need me. They need me to love and take care of them. I have spent the last how many weeks nursing Barney, a severely neglected poodle back to health, he wouldn't be flourishing the way he is without me.
So I guess I do have a purpose. No, I'm not curing cancer, but I can kiss a boo boo away, help mend a broken heart, nurse an abused animal...and maybe all of my little things make up a big thing...
Whatever, all I know is I was given a gift in the Soda aisle in Martin's, one that I really needed to receive.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Mio Nonno
I woke up this morning at 5 whatever and had the strangest thought going through my mind. I was trying to remember the last names of the 5 mafia families in NY. What could I have been dreaming about, I have no recollection whatsoever.
Then I got thinking of the lunch I went to yesterday. I signed my kids out of high school early so they didn't have to sit through the pep rally and we went to get sushi.
One of my kids brought up their grandfather and spoke rather fondly of him. Now let me explain that this kid isn't really mine, I am just borrowing him for the hockey season. But it made me think of my grandfather.
My father's father, Americo Tavernese, and I had a relationship that I wished my girls could have had with their grandfathers. I have tried to write this line about him so many times, trying to describe how I felt about him but how do you write something that there is no way to truly express?
Let me start by saying I am one of four grandchildren to him, and as stuck up as it sounds I was his favorite. He and my grandmother had three children. My Uncle Joe, the oldest, my dad was next and my Aunt Tina. My Aunt Tina and her husband were killed in a car accident about a year before I was born. My grandmother never got over it, I can remember her sitting up well into the wee hours of the night watching TV and saying prayers whenever my cousin Tina (my Uncle Joe's daughter, we were born two months apart) and I would sleep over there, which was every Friday night for the most part. I remember my mother saying we weren't allowed to talk about it to her ever. But whenever my grandmother wasn't paying attention my Grandpop would take me to his desk, pull out my Aunt's wedding album and show me her pictures. Me Oooooing and ahhhing over her pretty dress, or her bridesmaids dresses, all stunningly retro and positively 50's, or laughing because he still had hair in the pictures, or amazed that my father was ever that young, but I am guessing it was his chance to talk about his daughter that he obviously missed so much, and have someone like me ask questions about what was supposed to be this taboo subject.
My Grandfather and I were a kindred spirit. He loved music, could play banjo, guitar, mandolin or his harmonica so well. I was learning to play the guitar and the flute. I would beg him to play his harmonica, it was the only instrument he had until we bought him his mandolin for his birthday one year, and he would and tell me how he and his friends used to earn money playing their instruments in bars as kids. He would have me play my flute for him, and loved when ever I would play a new piece, whether it was the theme from M*A*S*H or something more classical, he didn't care. He would teach me Italian, because no one, not even my father and his siblings, wanted to learn it and be Greenhorns, even though he never learned how to read it or spell, he eagerly taught me. He loved how I would sit and learn, and I loved his stories about when he was a boy, that always got thrown in as the Italian flowed.
And there was his love of nature. He had this reverence and respect for it that was before his time. I cannot begin to remember how many hours I spent in his garden with him. I learned how to protect tomatoes from cut worms, and aphids, zucchini and yellow squash from slugs, things like that from when I was just a little bit of a thing. I can remember picking his tomatoes straight from the vine and eating them like apples...
He loved to fish so he would take me and my cousin Tina when she was around. When I knew snapper season was coming, I'd start calling him asking if the season started and when could he take me. He'd get the little silver siders, teach me how to bait my hook so the fish wouldn't "make a monkey" out of me by stealing my bait and getting away, and how to take the fish off the hook once I caught it. I would come home, hands covered in scales, bucket full of fish to be cleaned and happy I spent the day with my Grandpop. He took me to Snapper derby fishing competitions. He was so proud every year I won the girls division. I feel I should mention he did have two grandsons, my brother and Tina's brother, but I was still the one he did this stuff with.
I am a doodler by nature and he had a knack for it too. He would draw me pictures, just using his pencil. I would draw pictures of Charlie Brown or Snoopy for him, his favorite cartoons. Speaking of cartoons he would come over some Saturday mornings to watch Bug Bunny with me. He never missed coming to my house to watch a Peanuts Holiday special. How I can remember him laughing when Snoopy would dress up like the World War I flying ace and he'd fight with the Red Baron.
I think his favorite was when Snoopy would fight with the stupid cat next door and his dog house would get attacked, how he'd howl at that, I haven't heard that laugh in so long!
I will fast forward a little bit to college. If I put down every happy time with Mates from when I was little, this blog would be pages long!! How proud he was of me, I was going away. My brother and Joey didn't go to college, my cousin Tina didn't go away but I did. He never could understand how I could leave the safety of my family, and spread my wings. I would get these care packages from him. Sometimes it was food, which always contained a sopresatta and pepperoni lol, sometimes it was just a cassette. He'd tape playing his harmonica and tell his stories to me. Me sitting there on my bed with my eyes closed imagining I was in his kitchen cooking pizzas with him and missing him oh so much. Did I say how I minored in Italian in college and how proud that made my Matesy (his nickname was Mates). Four years came and went, I graduated and he came up to see it. He was so proud, he had to see me cross the stage and get my dipoloma.
Jump ahead again to me getting married. He loved my husband right away, anyone who treated his "Cookie (his nickname for me)" well was good in his book. My husband played golf with him, ate his pizzas and drank his beer. Brad loved him. I remember how Matesy cried when he saw me in my wedding dress, dancing with him at my wedding, me head taller than him, but him leading me around the dance floor and him saying on my wedding video when they handed him the mic, "Cookie, I'm gonna miss you...."
Brad and I moved away after we got married. The packages came still and I have so many of his letters. The day I found out I was pregnant one of the first people I wanted to tell was my Matesy. He counted down the nine months and we had our first daughter. My oldest Bailey was blessed with having a close relationship with her great "Padrino" as he called himself. She loved him and how he fawned over her.
He was loud, due in part from making aircraft for Grumman Corp. These were the days before OSHA regulations and the noise took it's toll after all of those years, and he was gruff but how Bailey would run to him as soon as she saw him. He would play his mandolin for her and she would dance making his day.
Next granddaughter came from us, Katie, or Caterina to him, and she adored him too. But our visits to NY were getting fewer and fewer as businesses were bought and established, and school started to be more than pre-school. She didn't get the benefit of seeing him as much as she should have, but the letters still came. Addressed to Bailey and her sorella (sister).
I'd call, but it was impossible to talk to him on the phone in those later years. He really couldn't hear and he refused to get a hearing aid because he was a "handsome devil" as he'd referred to himself, and didn't want to wear one out of pride.
Add daughter number three, a new business and well the trips up north came even more infrequently. I'd send pictures, he sent his letters. I missed him, but what could I do? Life was what it was. I would hear in my ears, "Cookie someday you're gonna be too big for your grandparents. You're gonna move away and have your life". I was in that moment wasn't I? The moment I swore as a little girl that was never going to come, there I was....
I was pregnant with daughter number four when the phone call from mom came, she said my Matesy had a heart attack. He was in the hospital and in bad shape. Insert that tire screeching sound here.I believe my own heart stopped when those words were spoken to me. The tears welled up in my eyes, I tried to find my voice to answer my mom back, I couldn't get past the lump in my throat. I got off the phone managing to say I wanted to go to NY.
In the process of trying to juggle school calendars and business so I could get up to NY before it was too late, he left me. I was too late...
My grandmother made the decision to take the tube out of his throat that was breathing for him because he wouldn't want to live that way, and in a matter of seconds that beautiful spirit of his was riding the wind and finding it's way home.
I like to believe he went to this massive garden in the sky. The Lord probably needed someone to tend his personal garden, and he is there. Maybe eating a tomato and watching me and my girls as we grow older. Maybe playing his harmonica, strumming a beautiful melody on his mandolin, tapping his foot with his eyes closed, the way he used to look when he was here with me....it's kind of like he is with me though when I think of him.
Mi manchi nonno...ogni giorni....sempre
Then I got thinking of the lunch I went to yesterday. I signed my kids out of high school early so they didn't have to sit through the pep rally and we went to get sushi.
One of my kids brought up their grandfather and spoke rather fondly of him. Now let me explain that this kid isn't really mine, I am just borrowing him for the hockey season. But it made me think of my grandfather.
My father's father, Americo Tavernese, and I had a relationship that I wished my girls could have had with their grandfathers. I have tried to write this line about him so many times, trying to describe how I felt about him but how do you write something that there is no way to truly express?
Let me start by saying I am one of four grandchildren to him, and as stuck up as it sounds I was his favorite. He and my grandmother had three children. My Uncle Joe, the oldest, my dad was next and my Aunt Tina. My Aunt Tina and her husband were killed in a car accident about a year before I was born. My grandmother never got over it, I can remember her sitting up well into the wee hours of the night watching TV and saying prayers whenever my cousin Tina (my Uncle Joe's daughter, we were born two months apart) and I would sleep over there, which was every Friday night for the most part. I remember my mother saying we weren't allowed to talk about it to her ever. But whenever my grandmother wasn't paying attention my Grandpop would take me to his desk, pull out my Aunt's wedding album and show me her pictures. Me Oooooing and ahhhing over her pretty dress, or her bridesmaids dresses, all stunningly retro and positively 50's, or laughing because he still had hair in the pictures, or amazed that my father was ever that young, but I am guessing it was his chance to talk about his daughter that he obviously missed so much, and have someone like me ask questions about what was supposed to be this taboo subject.
My Grandfather and I were a kindred spirit. He loved music, could play banjo, guitar, mandolin or his harmonica so well. I was learning to play the guitar and the flute. I would beg him to play his harmonica, it was the only instrument he had until we bought him his mandolin for his birthday one year, and he would and tell me how he and his friends used to earn money playing their instruments in bars as kids. He would have me play my flute for him, and loved when ever I would play a new piece, whether it was the theme from M*A*S*H or something more classical, he didn't care. He would teach me Italian, because no one, not even my father and his siblings, wanted to learn it and be Greenhorns, even though he never learned how to read it or spell, he eagerly taught me. He loved how I would sit and learn, and I loved his stories about when he was a boy, that always got thrown in as the Italian flowed.
And there was his love of nature. He had this reverence and respect for it that was before his time. I cannot begin to remember how many hours I spent in his garden with him. I learned how to protect tomatoes from cut worms, and aphids, zucchini and yellow squash from slugs, things like that from when I was just a little bit of a thing. I can remember picking his tomatoes straight from the vine and eating them like apples...
He loved to fish so he would take me and my cousin Tina when she was around. When I knew snapper season was coming, I'd start calling him asking if the season started and when could he take me. He'd get the little silver siders, teach me how to bait my hook so the fish wouldn't "make a monkey" out of me by stealing my bait and getting away, and how to take the fish off the hook once I caught it. I would come home, hands covered in scales, bucket full of fish to be cleaned and happy I spent the day with my Grandpop. He took me to Snapper derby fishing competitions. He was so proud every year I won the girls division. I feel I should mention he did have two grandsons, my brother and Tina's brother, but I was still the one he did this stuff with.
I am a doodler by nature and he had a knack for it too. He would draw me pictures, just using his pencil. I would draw pictures of Charlie Brown or Snoopy for him, his favorite cartoons. Speaking of cartoons he would come over some Saturday mornings to watch Bug Bunny with me. He never missed coming to my house to watch a Peanuts Holiday special. How I can remember him laughing when Snoopy would dress up like the World War I flying ace and he'd fight with the Red Baron.
I think his favorite was when Snoopy would fight with the stupid cat next door and his dog house would get attacked, how he'd howl at that, I haven't heard that laugh in so long!
I will fast forward a little bit to college. If I put down every happy time with Mates from when I was little, this blog would be pages long!! How proud he was of me, I was going away. My brother and Joey didn't go to college, my cousin Tina didn't go away but I did. He never could understand how I could leave the safety of my family, and spread my wings. I would get these care packages from him. Sometimes it was food, which always contained a sopresatta and pepperoni lol, sometimes it was just a cassette. He'd tape playing his harmonica and tell his stories to me. Me sitting there on my bed with my eyes closed imagining I was in his kitchen cooking pizzas with him and missing him oh so much. Did I say how I minored in Italian in college and how proud that made my Matesy (his nickname was Mates). Four years came and went, I graduated and he came up to see it. He was so proud, he had to see me cross the stage and get my dipoloma.
Jump ahead again to me getting married. He loved my husband right away, anyone who treated his "Cookie (his nickname for me)" well was good in his book. My husband played golf with him, ate his pizzas and drank his beer. Brad loved him. I remember how Matesy cried when he saw me in my wedding dress, dancing with him at my wedding, me head taller than him, but him leading me around the dance floor and him saying on my wedding video when they handed him the mic, "Cookie, I'm gonna miss you...."
Brad and I moved away after we got married. The packages came still and I have so many of his letters. The day I found out I was pregnant one of the first people I wanted to tell was my Matesy. He counted down the nine months and we had our first daughter. My oldest Bailey was blessed with having a close relationship with her great "Padrino" as he called himself. She loved him and how he fawned over her.
He was loud, due in part from making aircraft for Grumman Corp. These were the days before OSHA regulations and the noise took it's toll after all of those years, and he was gruff but how Bailey would run to him as soon as she saw him. He would play his mandolin for her and she would dance making his day.
Next granddaughter came from us, Katie, or Caterina to him, and she adored him too. But our visits to NY were getting fewer and fewer as businesses were bought and established, and school started to be more than pre-school. She didn't get the benefit of seeing him as much as she should have, but the letters still came. Addressed to Bailey and her sorella (sister).
I'd call, but it was impossible to talk to him on the phone in those later years. He really couldn't hear and he refused to get a hearing aid because he was a "handsome devil" as he'd referred to himself, and didn't want to wear one out of pride.
Add daughter number three, a new business and well the trips up north came even more infrequently. I'd send pictures, he sent his letters. I missed him, but what could I do? Life was what it was. I would hear in my ears, "Cookie someday you're gonna be too big for your grandparents. You're gonna move away and have your life". I was in that moment wasn't I? The moment I swore as a little girl that was never going to come, there I was....
I was pregnant with daughter number four when the phone call from mom came, she said my Matesy had a heart attack. He was in the hospital and in bad shape. Insert that tire screeching sound here.I believe my own heart stopped when those words were spoken to me. The tears welled up in my eyes, I tried to find my voice to answer my mom back, I couldn't get past the lump in my throat. I got off the phone managing to say I wanted to go to NY.
In the process of trying to juggle school calendars and business so I could get up to NY before it was too late, he left me. I was too late...
My grandmother made the decision to take the tube out of his throat that was breathing for him because he wouldn't want to live that way, and in a matter of seconds that beautiful spirit of his was riding the wind and finding it's way home.
I like to believe he went to this massive garden in the sky. The Lord probably needed someone to tend his personal garden, and he is there. Maybe eating a tomato and watching me and my girls as we grow older. Maybe playing his harmonica, strumming a beautiful melody on his mandolin, tapping his foot with his eyes closed, the way he used to look when he was here with me....it's kind of like he is with me though when I think of him.
Mi manchi nonno...ogni giorni....sempre
Sunday, September 9, 2012
I want my mommy....
My mother always used to say, Mother's can't get sick. As a kid I would wonder what she meant by that. I obviously saw her sick, what did she mean?
Well here I am, with a cold that is one of the worst I have had in recent memory, I am dragging soooo badly this morning and I want my mommy. (Why am I thinking of this scene?? ) Who will sing Soft Kitty to me??
I have a list of to do that if I don't do, don't get done (excuse the grammar there lol) I have to get stuff for lunches, and grocery shop in general. I have deposits to do and I know my accountant is coming this week so there is work I need to get started on for that. Then there's everything going on this week with Back to School. Back to School nights, orientations etc.
But wait, I don't feel good, I don't want to do anything, I want someone to sing Soft Kitty to me dammit!
All I want to do is be in my nice warm bed and rest. I know I won't be able to with all of the stuff I need to do swirling around inside my head.
WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE ME A POT OF CHICKEN SOUP??? It's what I am jonesing for, but who makes it for the mom when she is sick?? I guess I can make it for myself and lay down on the couch while it's cooking.
TEA!! I need mug after mug of steaming decaf tea. It soothes my scratchy throat. I suppose I can make it when I am getting up to check on my soup.
TISSUES!! I need those good ones with the Vicks in them. My box is almost out, my husband is away on business and I am the only driver in the house. I guess I will get them when my soup is simmering away and in between cups of tea.
HALLS!!! Honey lemon or spearmint. I will get them when I am getting my tissues, the soup is cooking and in between cups of tea. Since I am going out, I might as well get the groceries I need to make it through the first part of the week so there is one less thing and I can come home and rest some. While I am on the couch resting maybe I will bring my laptop over and get to work on the bookkeeping stuff for my accountant this week.
Then there's that birthday dinner I haven't made for my daughter yet. She wants ribs, crab and shrimp. I couldn't do them on the grill last night with the rain, and I was sooo feeling poorly I was thankful it rained and I didn't have to stand over the grill. She was at a soccer clinic on her birthday proper so we went out to dinner afterward and got her calamari, which was another thing she wanted. I will get that stuff to make for dinner tonight finally while I am out getting stuff for the week and my Halls and my Vicks Tissues.
As I am cooking I will keep drinking the tea I make for me, sucking the Halls I got for me, use the tissues I got for me, have the soup I made for me and sing Soft Kitty in my head all the while.
*SIGH* I finally understand what my mother meant.
I have a list of to do that if I don't do, don't get done (excuse the grammar there lol) I have to get stuff for lunches, and grocery shop in general. I have deposits to do and I know my accountant is coming this week so there is work I need to get started on for that. Then there's everything going on this week with Back to School. Back to School nights, orientations etc.
But wait, I don't feel good, I don't want to do anything, I want someone to sing Soft Kitty to me dammit!
All I want to do is be in my nice warm bed and rest. I know I won't be able to with all of the stuff I need to do swirling around inside my head.
WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE ME A POT OF CHICKEN SOUP??? It's what I am jonesing for, but who makes it for the mom when she is sick?? I guess I can make it for myself and lay down on the couch while it's cooking.
TEA!! I need mug after mug of steaming decaf tea. It soothes my scratchy throat. I suppose I can make it when I am getting up to check on my soup.
TISSUES!! I need those good ones with the Vicks in them. My box is almost out, my husband is away on business and I am the only driver in the house. I guess I will get them when my soup is simmering away and in between cups of tea.
HALLS!!! Honey lemon or spearmint. I will get them when I am getting my tissues, the soup is cooking and in between cups of tea. Since I am going out, I might as well get the groceries I need to make it through the first part of the week so there is one less thing and I can come home and rest some. While I am on the couch resting maybe I will bring my laptop over and get to work on the bookkeeping stuff for my accountant this week.
Then there's that birthday dinner I haven't made for my daughter yet. She wants ribs, crab and shrimp. I couldn't do them on the grill last night with the rain, and I was sooo feeling poorly I was thankful it rained and I didn't have to stand over the grill. She was at a soccer clinic on her birthday proper so we went out to dinner afterward and got her calamari, which was another thing she wanted. I will get that stuff to make for dinner tonight finally while I am out getting stuff for the week and my Halls and my Vicks Tissues.
As I am cooking I will keep drinking the tea I make for me, sucking the Halls I got for me, use the tissues I got for me, have the soup I made for me and sing Soft Kitty in my head all the while.
*SIGH* I finally understand what my mother meant.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Coming to my sense
I am visiting my mom with my girls after our New England hockey jaunt. We had fun watching the team and since their games wrapped up in Connecticut I figured we would stop by and visit my family on our way back to VA. It's been nice. I am getting to see my niece. I haven't seen her in two years easily. The visit has been really wonderful so far.
Last night I made my way upstairs to wash my makeup off and get ready for bed. As I was washing my face I was suddenly back in my Nanny's house. The sensation was so strong I needed to hurry up and wash the soap out of my eyes and look around to make certain I was indeed in my mother's bathroom. It dawned on me it was the soap. Nan used nothing but Dove soap, the white kind, and I was using the same at her daughter's, my mother's house. The smell of that soap was so distinctive, that it took just washing my face to be back in Nan's old, green bathroom. The memory was so vivid I was convinced I could hear my Nan humming, as she always did, right there behind me while I finished rinsing my face. I have to admit I was smiling when I was done.
It got me thinking about other smells that will bring you to another place or time. Like if I smell diesel fuel. The odor of diesel fuel being burned by a truck or bus will instantly transport me back to my summer trip through Europe. We traveled by bus, sometimes for long stretches, and we'd smell that exhaust quite a bit. But I can be sitting in my car at a traffic light next to a diesel vehicle and that smell is enough to have me on the bus with Patricia our tour guide talking us through what our next destination would be. I can hear David Bowie on the bus radio and be giggling away with my seat mate and roommate Stephanie. What a fantastic experience that summer was for me at 16 and how lucky am I to get to live through that just for a split second every time I smell diesel??
They say the sense of smell is the one that can evoke the strongest response from people. I believe it.
Don't get me started on Thanksgiving smells. My mouth just started watering at the thought of all of them! That roasted turkey smell is so homey to me. Another thing that puts me at Nan's house. I still wonder how Nan managed to fit our ever expanding family in her dining room. It seemed expansive once upon a time, but when I look back now it is pretty amazing that we all squeezed in!
As I was making bacon as part of our lunch, my 13 year old came up and started smiling. She said to me, not realizing what I was blogging about, you know what the smell of bacon reminds me of mom? It reminds me of Pop! Do you remember how he would steal pieces of bacon even when he wasn't allowed to eat it and Nan would start yelling at him? She went on to reminisce about her favorite Pop moments. The smell of bacon cooking was enough to bring my daughter to a time and place that brought her such happy memories. It made all of us laugh, what a great moment to share. All from the smell of bacon cooking.
I posed the question to my other daughters. What smells do you like, what ones will bring back happy memories. Heather piped up Pillow! She has a pillow case from this sheet set my Nan gave her that became her favorite thing ever. She still snuggles with it and actually smells it to fall asleep. She explained to me it smells like home, whatever that smell is like for her. But it's enough to comfort her and relax her to fall asleep from. It is obviously a comfortably place.
Not all smells are good ones. There are ones that do indeed bring you back in time, to a place you'd rather not visit.
I hate the smell of flowers, absolutely despise it, ever since my father's wake. The funeral home was so packed with lovely floral arrangements. They were really spectacular. It brought the thought to mind why do we waste such beauty on someone who can't enjoy them? I guess it brings up that line in my blog that funerals aren't really for the dead person are they? But all I need to do is smell flowers and it makes me sad. I told my husband after that time to not bring me home flowers. I can tolerate roses, but that's about it.
I cannot stand the way hospitals smell. Even if I am in them for a good reason, like when I had my babies, I cannot stand the smell. My dad spent so much time in the hospital that that aneseptic-y smell, as soon as it hits my nose, is a smell that brings me to a not so good spot in my life.
Random smell I cannot tolerate, Downy fabric softener. When I was pregnant with my first daughter the smell of Downy was enough to make me barf, so was the smell of dirty hair that needed washing and newspaper print, go figure. To this day I cannot smell Downy, the other two don't bother me as much. But they all do remind me of being pregnant.
I believe my other senses don't move me to memory the way my sniffer does. My mom told me about her favorite supermarket and how it plays 50's music from time to time, that was her time. She got laughing when she said she was there the other day and caught a couple doing the Lindy in the condiments aisle.
I would have loved to have seen that! It got me thinking, maybe her ears and music are to her what my nose and smells are for me!
Well there's the timer going off! I have to go take the birthday cake we are baking for Heather out of the oven. The smell is absolutely heavenly.....
Last night I made my way upstairs to wash my makeup off and get ready for bed. As I was washing my face I was suddenly back in my Nanny's house. The sensation was so strong I needed to hurry up and wash the soap out of my eyes and look around to make certain I was indeed in my mother's bathroom. It dawned on me it was the soap. Nan used nothing but Dove soap, the white kind, and I was using the same at her daughter's, my mother's house. The smell of that soap was so distinctive, that it took just washing my face to be back in Nan's old, green bathroom. The memory was so vivid I was convinced I could hear my Nan humming, as she always did, right there behind me while I finished rinsing my face. I have to admit I was smiling when I was done.
It got me thinking about other smells that will bring you to another place or time. Like if I smell diesel fuel. The odor of diesel fuel being burned by a truck or bus will instantly transport me back to my summer trip through Europe. We traveled by bus, sometimes for long stretches, and we'd smell that exhaust quite a bit. But I can be sitting in my car at a traffic light next to a diesel vehicle and that smell is enough to have me on the bus with Patricia our tour guide talking us through what our next destination would be. I can hear David Bowie on the bus radio and be giggling away with my seat mate and roommate Stephanie. What a fantastic experience that summer was for me at 16 and how lucky am I to get to live through that just for a split second every time I smell diesel??
They say the sense of smell is the one that can evoke the strongest response from people. I believe it.
Don't get me started on Thanksgiving smells. My mouth just started watering at the thought of all of them! That roasted turkey smell is so homey to me. Another thing that puts me at Nan's house. I still wonder how Nan managed to fit our ever expanding family in her dining room. It seemed expansive once upon a time, but when I look back now it is pretty amazing that we all squeezed in!
As I was making bacon as part of our lunch, my 13 year old came up and started smiling. She said to me, not realizing what I was blogging about, you know what the smell of bacon reminds me of mom? It reminds me of Pop! Do you remember how he would steal pieces of bacon even when he wasn't allowed to eat it and Nan would start yelling at him? She went on to reminisce about her favorite Pop moments. The smell of bacon cooking was enough to bring my daughter to a time and place that brought her such happy memories. It made all of us laugh, what a great moment to share. All from the smell of bacon cooking.
I posed the question to my other daughters. What smells do you like, what ones will bring back happy memories. Heather piped up Pillow! She has a pillow case from this sheet set my Nan gave her that became her favorite thing ever. She still snuggles with it and actually smells it to fall asleep. She explained to me it smells like home, whatever that smell is like for her. But it's enough to comfort her and relax her to fall asleep from. It is obviously a comfortably place.
Not all smells are good ones. There are ones that do indeed bring you back in time, to a place you'd rather not visit.
I hate the smell of flowers, absolutely despise it, ever since my father's wake. The funeral home was so packed with lovely floral arrangements. They were really spectacular. It brought the thought to mind why do we waste such beauty on someone who can't enjoy them? I guess it brings up that line in my blog that funerals aren't really for the dead person are they? But all I need to do is smell flowers and it makes me sad. I told my husband after that time to not bring me home flowers. I can tolerate roses, but that's about it.
I cannot stand the way hospitals smell. Even if I am in them for a good reason, like when I had my babies, I cannot stand the smell. My dad spent so much time in the hospital that that aneseptic-y smell, as soon as it hits my nose, is a smell that brings me to a not so good spot in my life.
Random smell I cannot tolerate, Downy fabric softener. When I was pregnant with my first daughter the smell of Downy was enough to make me barf, so was the smell of dirty hair that needed washing and newspaper print, go figure. To this day I cannot smell Downy, the other two don't bother me as much. But they all do remind me of being pregnant.
Well there's the timer going off! I have to go take the birthday cake we are baking for Heather out of the oven. The smell is absolutely heavenly.....
Friday, August 24, 2012
ROI
Usually when Brad and I discuss ROI, we're talking about an investment we made in something. We invest our money as wisely as we can and like to avoid things that don't have a good Return On Investment. But as we were chattering away on our way home from Carvel tonight I got thinking about that term. ROI, it's not just in business dealings really is it?
Let me pontificate the point.
Did you ever know one of THOSE people? They one up you on everything. I have a neighbor who actually had to do that with her washing machine. I had just gotten a new front loading washer that could handle 16 pair of jeans at a time I was telling another mom at the bus stop. I needed it for all of the legs that wore pants in this house at the time. Well this woman went on to tell me HER washing machine was better. It could hold 32 towels at a time, mine was nothing compared to hers.
hahahaha, I looked at her like she was from fricking Mars I swear. I told her I was happy for her and if she wanted to come over and grab 32 of my dirty towels she was welcomed to wash them any time, but I digress. Needless to say there was no ROI in that neighborly relationship. Anything I invested was constantly one upped. I couldn't handle it, I finally stopped talking to her when she had to point out to another neighbor her sprinkler system had more heads than hers and was therefore better. Just one of those relationships not worth investing your time in.
One of my first friends in VA from 20 years ago was another toxic relationship I had to end. I tried so hard to keep this friendship going, but again no ROI. I gave and gave and gave. This woman gleefully took and took and took. And her kid was sooooooooooo much better than mine. My kid can read better than yours, my kid can spell better than yours, my kid got invited to a birthday party and yours didn't, my kid can ride a bike better than yours, my kid can swim better than yours, my kid is a better artist than yours. I can go on and on, but why? You get the gist of it right? I finally got tired of it, I couldn't do it anymore so I had to walk away. BAD investment with no return.
Then there are the trickier relationships that you really can't cut ties with, as much as you might want to. Sometimes they are business, sometimes they are family but for whatever reason you can't stop the bleeding and you have to do your best to stanch it.
I have friends that own a business and they have to deal with this crazy person neither of them care very much for, but they don't have a choice because their businesses intersect. As much as they'd like to say go soak your head, they cannot because it wouldn't be prudent to do so business wise with what pull this business associate has. They limit their interactions to the bare bones and hope for the best with each meeting. Minimal return on their painful investment, but worth the effort I suppose.
What happens though, when it's a family member? We all have those people in our families. A dear friend of mine from a job I had many moons ago once said to me, "Family, unfortunately, you are born and stuck with. Friends, thankfully you can chose". Think about it, makes loads of sense. I hate that people automatically think you have to put up with them merely because of the DNA and blood that you share. There are people you should just be allowed to walk away from regardless of ties. But you never really can. Another friend told her brother who had gotten a girl pregnant you might as well marry her, you'll be tied to her for the rest of your life through the child you share together. Ok, maybe wrong idea there, but her point about being irrevocably tied to this woman once their child came was true. I think his working on a positive relationship with this woman would result in a happy kid, so there is a huge ROI in that particular situation. The mom on the other hand is a total nut ball. He probably did know that before he got into this situation. Wear a condom next time. Consider it a stop loss order for this type of investment.
Another friend has an aunt who is bar none THE most negative woman I have ever encountered. She has had some major issues in her life, no denying that, but this woman is the glass is half empty kind of person. There will never be joy in that woman's Mudville and yet everyone tolerates her. "We have to she's family", I heard the last time I asked why she even bothers to talk to this woman. If you we're told you were going to have to throw every dollar you make into a furnace, you wouldn't do it would you? Why let yourself be burned every time by this caustic person??
Don't get me wrong, I don't think all relationships aren't worth the effort. Far from the truth!
Of course there are my kids too. I feel like every minute I spend talking to my 16 year old, or reading with my 9 year old or laughing with my 13 year old go into their memory bank. I hope the Cupid shuffling in our kitchen at random moments, or jumping out and scaring each other when we least expect it, or holding them as they cry because a friend has hurt them so grievously, or sat with them while they were sick, or go over and above to make an awesome holiday whatever the holiday is or help them reach a goal, grab that dream they have been pursuing, will be something that helps them grow into happy adults someday. There are the moments where I drop the ball, no two ways about it. Moments when I say the absolute wrong thing, grab an arm too roughly, exclaim in exasperation at something they've done by accident and they feel badly enough about that I add salt to that wound. All I can do is apologize and move on to a better moment with them. I hope that by apologizing to my girls, it makes them realize it's ok to make mistakes as long as you correct what the wrong is and make amends. But my kids are an investment I would make over and over again. Sometimes the return is less than favorable in the short term, but I am looking long term here. I keep investing in this 401k. I will be rewarded with grandkids in my retirement at the very least :)
My marriage is another investment I have reaped more than my fair share with. Holy cow, I will liken Brad to a penny stock. I invested almost NOTHING here, except my faith in us. Penny stocks are sexy, kind of a dangerous investment, you never know how they will turn. A lot like my relationship with Brad at first. HUGE risk involved, however the reward can be just as huge. I didn't know him, met him, fell head over heels and decided to go for it. Risky, we got engaged in less than 3 months of knowing each other, married less than a year later. That was almost 23 years ago....Huge risk, huge investment best.return.eva...I invest every day and the return is sweet whether it's hearing every time I turn around how beautiful I am, how good I am at whatever it is I am doing, arms around me when I need them, smooches hello and goodbye, I love yous that make my stomach still get quivery every single time I hear them, it always sounds as beautiful as the first time I heard those words.
Hmmm, never fancied myself the type who really "got" all of this ROI stuff, not the numbering kind, but put in the right perspective, I get it. And the ROIs of this kind are really the important kinds in our lives aren't they?
Let me pontificate the point.
Did you ever know one of THOSE people? They one up you on everything. I have a neighbor who actually had to do that with her washing machine. I had just gotten a new front loading washer that could handle 16 pair of jeans at a time I was telling another mom at the bus stop. I needed it for all of the legs that wore pants in this house at the time. Well this woman went on to tell me HER washing machine was better. It could hold 32 towels at a time, mine was nothing compared to hers.
hahahaha, I looked at her like she was from fricking Mars I swear. I told her I was happy for her and if she wanted to come over and grab 32 of my dirty towels she was welcomed to wash them any time, but I digress. Needless to say there was no ROI in that neighborly relationship. Anything I invested was constantly one upped. I couldn't handle it, I finally stopped talking to her when she had to point out to another neighbor her sprinkler system had more heads than hers and was therefore better. Just one of those relationships not worth investing your time in.
One of my first friends in VA from 20 years ago was another toxic relationship I had to end. I tried so hard to keep this friendship going, but again no ROI. I gave and gave and gave. This woman gleefully took and took and took. And her kid was sooooooooooo much better than mine. My kid can read better than yours, my kid can spell better than yours, my kid got invited to a birthday party and yours didn't, my kid can ride a bike better than yours, my kid can swim better than yours, my kid is a better artist than yours. I can go on and on, but why? You get the gist of it right? I finally got tired of it, I couldn't do it anymore so I had to walk away. BAD investment with no return.
Then there are the trickier relationships that you really can't cut ties with, as much as you might want to. Sometimes they are business, sometimes they are family but for whatever reason you can't stop the bleeding and you have to do your best to stanch it.
I have friends that own a business and they have to deal with this crazy person neither of them care very much for, but they don't have a choice because their businesses intersect. As much as they'd like to say go soak your head, they cannot because it wouldn't be prudent to do so business wise with what pull this business associate has. They limit their interactions to the bare bones and hope for the best with each meeting. Minimal return on their painful investment, but worth the effort I suppose.
What happens though, when it's a family member? We all have those people in our families. A dear friend of mine from a job I had many moons ago once said to me, "Family, unfortunately, you are born and stuck with. Friends, thankfully you can chose". Think about it, makes loads of sense. I hate that people automatically think you have to put up with them merely because of the DNA and blood that you share. There are people you should just be allowed to walk away from regardless of ties. But you never really can. Another friend told her brother who had gotten a girl pregnant you might as well marry her, you'll be tied to her for the rest of your life through the child you share together. Ok, maybe wrong idea there, but her point about being irrevocably tied to this woman once their child came was true. I think his working on a positive relationship with this woman would result in a happy kid, so there is a huge ROI in that particular situation. The mom on the other hand is a total nut ball. He probably did know that before he got into this situation. Wear a condom next time. Consider it a stop loss order for this type of investment.
Another friend has an aunt who is bar none THE most negative woman I have ever encountered. She has had some major issues in her life, no denying that, but this woman is the glass is half empty kind of person. There will never be joy in that woman's Mudville and yet everyone tolerates her. "We have to she's family", I heard the last time I asked why she even bothers to talk to this woman. If you we're told you were going to have to throw every dollar you make into a furnace, you wouldn't do it would you? Why let yourself be burned every time by this caustic person??
Don't get me wrong, I don't think all relationships aren't worth the effort. Far from the truth!
Of course there are my kids too. I feel like every minute I spend talking to my 16 year old, or reading with my 9 year old or laughing with my 13 year old go into their memory bank. I hope the Cupid shuffling in our kitchen at random moments, or jumping out and scaring each other when we least expect it, or holding them as they cry because a friend has hurt them so grievously, or sat with them while they were sick, or go over and above to make an awesome holiday whatever the holiday is or help them reach a goal, grab that dream they have been pursuing, will be something that helps them grow into happy adults someday. There are the moments where I drop the ball, no two ways about it. Moments when I say the absolute wrong thing, grab an arm too roughly, exclaim in exasperation at something they've done by accident and they feel badly enough about that I add salt to that wound. All I can do is apologize and move on to a better moment with them. I hope that by apologizing to my girls, it makes them realize it's ok to make mistakes as long as you correct what the wrong is and make amends. But my kids are an investment I would make over and over again. Sometimes the return is less than favorable in the short term, but I am looking long term here. I keep investing in this 401k. I will be rewarded with grandkids in my retirement at the very least :)
My marriage is another investment I have reaped more than my fair share with. Holy cow, I will liken Brad to a penny stock. I invested almost NOTHING here, except my faith in us. Penny stocks are sexy, kind of a dangerous investment, you never know how they will turn. A lot like my relationship with Brad at first. HUGE risk involved, however the reward can be just as huge. I didn't know him, met him, fell head over heels and decided to go for it. Risky, we got engaged in less than 3 months of knowing each other, married less than a year later. That was almost 23 years ago....Huge risk, huge investment best.return.eva...I invest every day and the return is sweet whether it's hearing every time I turn around how beautiful I am, how good I am at whatever it is I am doing, arms around me when I need them, smooches hello and goodbye, I love yous that make my stomach still get quivery every single time I hear them, it always sounds as beautiful as the first time I heard those words.
Hmmm, never fancied myself the type who really "got" all of this ROI stuff, not the numbering kind, but put in the right perspective, I get it. And the ROIs of this kind are really the important kinds in our lives aren't they?
Monday, August 20, 2012
For each beautiful life that enters this world, one has to leave...
That came from a dream I had. Or at least I convinced myself it was a dream. That thought comes to me every time I hear about a precious life leaving this world for the next.
I had this best friend from high school, I still have two, but this girl was my third. She was someone I will never forget meeting.
I went from a small, Catholic school into our public high school. I had 32 or so in my class for 8 years. Same classroom, no upstairs/downstairs. I went into Glen Cove High which at the time seemed massive. It had two floors! It had two cafeterias, it had many, many classrooms compared to St. Hyacinth's. Anyway one day during my freshman year I saw this girl standing outside one of the science classrooms crying her eyes out. I didn't know who she was, she was sort of heavy set, had blonde hair and was crying away. I had to stop, it must have been during class because there was no one in the hall at the time. I asked her what was wrong, she wouldn't answer at first. Then she sort of hiccuped at me "it's stupid really, I'm fine", I promised I wouldn't think it was stupid, she was breaking my heart with how sad she was. She finally said, "my dog died this morning" and burst into a fresh round of tears. I hugged her, and promised her I didn't think it was stupid, I have been an animal lover my whole life and I am sure I tried to make her feel better in some clumsy 14 year old way. But that day started a beautiful friendship.
Her name was MaryAnn, but her nickname was MiMi. We did all sorts of fun stuff together. She pulled me into a new circle of friends which was welcomed since most of Glen Cove High School freshman went to middle school together and didn't go to one of the Catholic schools. She introduced me to Punk and New Wave, two genres of music I was unfamiliar with at the time, and had the neatest outlook on things. Some of my fondest memories were driving around, blasting music with her. Or sitting at the beach. Or going to Depeche Mode, Squeeze, Madness, OMD, insert any 80's new wave band here and we probably went to their concert together. She didn't look for trouble, she was an honestly good and decent person. She wouldn't even curse. She just didn't have a mean bone in her body.
College came and went, she was still one of my best friends. Brad and I met and she was in my wedding. Brad loved her. She used to refer to him as "that guy Brad". "Tell that guy Brad I said hello!" She was getting her masters in Physical Therapy and when we went home to visit my mom and dad she'd pop us on the kitchen table to practice massage techniques she had learned. She had me rolling with the stories of the butt massage she had to give to that smelly guy in her class and gross me out with stories about what happened to the cadavers they worked with at school....She was such a pure soul.
When I got pregnant with my first daughter she was fascinated by my growing pregnancy, she called frequently letting me know things I could do to get comfortable with my ever burgeoning belly. She would lament that Richmond was too far from Glen Cove and wished we could see each other.
I had my baby, she was over the moon about her. I remember speaking to her, it was before her finals. When she passed, she would be a physical therapist. How proud I was of her! She always loved sports, it was her brother's season tickets to the Rangers that brought us to Madison Square Garden to see our beloved team play. She was going to make her living taking care of athletes she said.
She told me she would be up to her eyeballs in studying and would call me after her last final to tell me how she did. She was always an amazing and diligent student. I knew she's rock it I told her. She heard Bailey make a baby noise in the background, I was holding her and cradling the phone, and MiMi melted. We wrapped up the phone call as Bailey started to fuss to eat. I remember MiMi saying to me, "Dee, I can't wait to hold her!" I told her I missed her, good luck, and I couldn't wait to see her and we got off the phone.
Maybe two weeks later, she still hadn't called me about her finals, our mutual friend called and asked me if I was sitting. I was as a matter of fact, I was watching that Bass/Rankin Little Drummer Boy Christmas special, Christmas wasn't even 2 weeks away. And she told me that MiMi had been in a horrible car accident. Someone hit her from behind, she hit the car in front of her etc...many cars involved. The roof of her car bent like a V, crushed her head and she was on life support. I won't tell you what it was like until I got the next phone call about a week later telling me she was gone. She finally flat lined and there was no brain activity that came back after that wreck. And then, like that feather in Forrest Gump, her spirit blew away to where ever good souls go when they've used their time up here.
My family told me there was no way I could travel to her wake and funeral with a baby that wasn't even a month old yet. She's too small blah, blah, blah. Being a first time mom I stupidly listened and didn't go. I regretted that decision, I still do to this day. I didn't get to go through the Catholic ritual that I was accustomed to in saying good bye. I didn't get my chance to mourn with friends we had in common, I didn't get my closure. After all wakes and funerals really aren't for the dead are they? They are how the living cope with a loved one dying...
So one night, not too many weeks later, I dreamed of her, the most vivid dream, it was almost real I swear. She woke me up. She shook me as I slept and asked if we could talk. I jumped up and hugged her in my dream. I cried, I told her how much I missed her, I started babbling telling her I was sorry I wasn't at her wake or at her funeral. I kept grabbing her and kept hugging her. Then we sat on the foot of my bed and she held my hand as we talked.
I asked her why she had to die. She told me that the Lord explained to her we all reach a level of perfection at one time or another in our lives. When that time comes, the Lord calls us home. Sometimes it's a baby that isn't even born yet, sometimes it's a child, sometimes it's a person who has lived a long life, we all have our time. When it comes you have to go. And there are those who just never reach that point, people who are evil at heart and won't reach salvation, they die as well but they don't go where the good people go. Then she said to stop suffering over not going to her funeral and wake. She knew I wanted to be there, she knew how much I loved her and to let it go. She also told me I wouldn't dream of her again for a long time, that she couldn't see me again for awhile. She said she couldn't watch me sad about the whole situation any longer so she arranged to visit me earlier than she should have, whatever that meant. I told her I didn't want her to go, but she got up to leave, I knew she couldn't stay.
She said as she was going as she got up, for every beautiful life that enters this world Dee, one has to leave. With that thought hanging in the air, she was gone.
I have a friend who is mourning a loss right now and it brought to mind those last few seconds with MiMi all those years ago. And those words, they have stayed with me forever. I know for the beautiful life my friend is mourning, a beautiful one will come to take his place....
I had this best friend from high school, I still have two, but this girl was my third. She was someone I will never forget meeting.
I went from a small, Catholic school into our public high school. I had 32 or so in my class for 8 years. Same classroom, no upstairs/downstairs. I went into Glen Cove High which at the time seemed massive. It had two floors! It had two cafeterias, it had many, many classrooms compared to St. Hyacinth's. Anyway one day during my freshman year I saw this girl standing outside one of the science classrooms crying her eyes out. I didn't know who she was, she was sort of heavy set, had blonde hair and was crying away. I had to stop, it must have been during class because there was no one in the hall at the time. I asked her what was wrong, she wouldn't answer at first. Then she sort of hiccuped at me "it's stupid really, I'm fine", I promised I wouldn't think it was stupid, she was breaking my heart with how sad she was. She finally said, "my dog died this morning" and burst into a fresh round of tears. I hugged her, and promised her I didn't think it was stupid, I have been an animal lover my whole life and I am sure I tried to make her feel better in some clumsy 14 year old way. But that day started a beautiful friendship.
Her name was MaryAnn, but her nickname was MiMi. We did all sorts of fun stuff together. She pulled me into a new circle of friends which was welcomed since most of Glen Cove High School freshman went to middle school together and didn't go to one of the Catholic schools. She introduced me to Punk and New Wave, two genres of music I was unfamiliar with at the time, and had the neatest outlook on things. Some of my fondest memories were driving around, blasting music with her. Or sitting at the beach. Or going to Depeche Mode, Squeeze, Madness, OMD, insert any 80's new wave band here and we probably went to their concert together. She didn't look for trouble, she was an honestly good and decent person. She wouldn't even curse. She just didn't have a mean bone in her body.
College came and went, she was still one of my best friends. Brad and I met and she was in my wedding. Brad loved her. She used to refer to him as "that guy Brad". "Tell that guy Brad I said hello!" She was getting her masters in Physical Therapy and when we went home to visit my mom and dad she'd pop us on the kitchen table to practice massage techniques she had learned. She had me rolling with the stories of the butt massage she had to give to that smelly guy in her class and gross me out with stories about what happened to the cadavers they worked with at school....She was such a pure soul.
When I got pregnant with my first daughter she was fascinated by my growing pregnancy, she called frequently letting me know things I could do to get comfortable with my ever burgeoning belly. She would lament that Richmond was too far from Glen Cove and wished we could see each other.
I had my baby, she was over the moon about her. I remember speaking to her, it was before her finals. When she passed, she would be a physical therapist. How proud I was of her! She always loved sports, it was her brother's season tickets to the Rangers that brought us to Madison Square Garden to see our beloved team play. She was going to make her living taking care of athletes she said.
She told me she would be up to her eyeballs in studying and would call me after her last final to tell me how she did. She was always an amazing and diligent student. I knew she's rock it I told her. She heard Bailey make a baby noise in the background, I was holding her and cradling the phone, and MiMi melted. We wrapped up the phone call as Bailey started to fuss to eat. I remember MiMi saying to me, "Dee, I can't wait to hold her!" I told her I missed her, good luck, and I couldn't wait to see her and we got off the phone.
Maybe two weeks later, she still hadn't called me about her finals, our mutual friend called and asked me if I was sitting. I was as a matter of fact, I was watching that Bass/Rankin Little Drummer Boy Christmas special, Christmas wasn't even 2 weeks away. And she told me that MiMi had been in a horrible car accident. Someone hit her from behind, she hit the car in front of her etc...many cars involved. The roof of her car bent like a V, crushed her head and she was on life support. I won't tell you what it was like until I got the next phone call about a week later telling me she was gone. She finally flat lined and there was no brain activity that came back after that wreck. And then, like that feather in Forrest Gump, her spirit blew away to where ever good souls go when they've used their time up here.
My family told me there was no way I could travel to her wake and funeral with a baby that wasn't even a month old yet. She's too small blah, blah, blah. Being a first time mom I stupidly listened and didn't go. I regretted that decision, I still do to this day. I didn't get to go through the Catholic ritual that I was accustomed to in saying good bye. I didn't get my chance to mourn with friends we had in common, I didn't get my closure. After all wakes and funerals really aren't for the dead are they? They are how the living cope with a loved one dying...
So one night, not too many weeks later, I dreamed of her, the most vivid dream, it was almost real I swear. She woke me up. She shook me as I slept and asked if we could talk. I jumped up and hugged her in my dream. I cried, I told her how much I missed her, I started babbling telling her I was sorry I wasn't at her wake or at her funeral. I kept grabbing her and kept hugging her. Then we sat on the foot of my bed and she held my hand as we talked.
I asked her why she had to die. She told me that the Lord explained to her we all reach a level of perfection at one time or another in our lives. When that time comes, the Lord calls us home. Sometimes it's a baby that isn't even born yet, sometimes it's a child, sometimes it's a person who has lived a long life, we all have our time. When it comes you have to go. And there are those who just never reach that point, people who are evil at heart and won't reach salvation, they die as well but they don't go where the good people go. Then she said to stop suffering over not going to her funeral and wake. She knew I wanted to be there, she knew how much I loved her and to let it go. She also told me I wouldn't dream of her again for a long time, that she couldn't see me again for awhile. She said she couldn't watch me sad about the whole situation any longer so she arranged to visit me earlier than she should have, whatever that meant. I told her I didn't want her to go, but she got up to leave, I knew she couldn't stay.
She said as she was going as she got up, for every beautiful life that enters this world Dee, one has to leave. With that thought hanging in the air, she was gone.
I have a friend who is mourning a loss right now and it brought to mind those last few seconds with MiMi all those years ago. And those words, they have stayed with me forever. I know for the beautiful life my friend is mourning, a beautiful one will come to take his place....
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Deep thoughts....sort of
As I am still in the throes of my marathon cleaning session, it has easily lasted for two weeks now, I have been thinking.
A lot.
I hate cleaning, the tedium of it all, but it does have a mental benefit for me. I hash out so much. I have deep thoughts ala Jack Handy style, but others are truly deep. For example, today I thought as I was getting coated in dust as I cleaned ceiling fan blades, base boards, under filing cabinets my eyes were feeling fuzzy from it all. I got thinking I bet I look like King Neptune from the Sponge Bob movie when he sprays the hair in a can in his eyeballs instead of on his head and his eyes sprout furry brown hair.
Next I got thinking of how a simple greeting from a good friend last night, brought a much needed smile to my face. We had a wedding reception to go to last night, it was at the Country Club of Virginia and we were requested to wear beachy kind of dressy clothes. I had nothing that I could wear, so I went out last minute, did I mention I was at work up to my elbows in food grade silicon greaser from putting ice cream dispensing machines together, to try and find something. It was just one of those days where nothing, absolutely nothing, looked good. I was in a particularly cross mood because there was nowhere to park, I had to walk a million miles to the store I wanted to "just pop over" to and be in and out of so I could get back to work to pick up my girls who were still working, but that idea was nixed pretty quickly. I go stomping into Cache, after my Tourettes fueled cursing tirade trying to find a parking spot, and start rifling through the racks. I picked out easily 10 things that would have worked. Would have being the operative phrase. NOTHING looked right, good, fit well, just nothing. I finally took this one dress that had a florally print, blouson top and tight short skirt. It didn't look as well on me as it does on this lovely model, but it worked.
I got some strappy white patent leather wedge sandals, a chunky gold bracelet and off we went. But I was tugging at the skirt, pulling at the shoulder, rearranging my molecules non-stop. Not happy at all, still trying to shake the whole shopping experience from my mind, the woman taking my NO dresses away at Cache saying that the skirt "accentuated" my thighs a bit much (which is one feature on my body besides my tummy that I am overly self conscious about) and just look forward to the celebration ahead.
Tug, tug, tug, shift, pull, tug, pull.....Greet friends that you really love hanging out with and never have enough time to see them as much as you'd like. Sit and have a Sea Breeze, some prosciutto tug, tug, tug, pull....more friends come in, get up to hug and kiss hello. And as you walk over to a particularly favorite couple you hear the guy say "Hello beautiful" followed by a huge hug. Oh are you referring to me??? And at that, I stopped the rearranging. I let my molecules be. Someone was seeing me with the eyes I wished I had and I stopped myself. Let myself have fun, and let it all loose when they played the Cupid Shuffle and no one was really out there showing them how it gets done.
Then I got thinking of the Cupid Shuffle. Silly song really, but one that makes my day every time I hear it. I believe it has to do with Christmas Cookies, Katie's Birthday, my girls in the kitchen as I was making my special Italian Rainbow cookies and Katie put it on. We all stopped what we were doing and started shuffling together. It was a rare time when we were together and happy and all was good. My girls played the song today and we all broke into the dance, I was covered in dust and grumbling about it, it was what I needed to hear. It changes my mood immediately.
That got me thinking about music in general. It is such an amazing thing if you think about it. I have everything from the Carmina Burana, to the Overture of 1812 to AC/DC to Linkin Park to Run DMC to Ludacris on my Ipod. There is something so interminable about music. There are some songs I listen to that make me happy, some help me through work outs that I think I'll never be able to make it through, some that bring tears to my eyes because the melody is such genius and I am awestruck that someone could weave notes together in such a moving way...Some that are so sensual to me that they are like porn to my ears. Others evoke memories, if I hear Hello by Martin Solveig I break out in a cold sweat and my stomach knots because that song was on before we started our Ironman Florida swim hahaha! I couldn't live in a world without music to wrap around me.
Then I wondered what my dog thinks when she looks at me or he looks at me with those sweet eyes. They just come over and look at me like they need something that only I can give them and I ask myself what is it that goes on in there? Are you loving me at that moment when I am scratching your head as much as I am loving you? Are you thinking, she might be tasty with barbeque sauce? Are you thinking, are you my mother? I wish I knew....
I could go on and on, my thoughts threading together today, emptying from my mind like I had a wand and Dumbledore's pensieve...but I have so much more to do to get my house ready and I've rambled enough already.
Maybe cleaning and clearing the dust and cobwebs from my home is a way for me to clear the same from my head. Cleaning is my mental floss.
A lot.
I hate cleaning, the tedium of it all, but it does have a mental benefit for me. I hash out so much. I have deep thoughts ala Jack Handy style, but others are truly deep. For example, today I thought as I was getting coated in dust as I cleaned ceiling fan blades, base boards, under filing cabinets my eyes were feeling fuzzy from it all. I got thinking I bet I look like King Neptune from the Sponge Bob movie when he sprays the hair in a can in his eyeballs instead of on his head and his eyes sprout furry brown hair.
Next I got thinking of how a simple greeting from a good friend last night, brought a much needed smile to my face. We had a wedding reception to go to last night, it was at the Country Club of Virginia and we were requested to wear beachy kind of dressy clothes. I had nothing that I could wear, so I went out last minute, did I mention I was at work up to my elbows in food grade silicon greaser from putting ice cream dispensing machines together, to try and find something. It was just one of those days where nothing, absolutely nothing, looked good. I was in a particularly cross mood because there was nowhere to park, I had to walk a million miles to the store I wanted to "just pop over" to and be in and out of so I could get back to work to pick up my girls who were still working, but that idea was nixed pretty quickly. I go stomping into Cache, after my Tourettes fueled cursing tirade trying to find a parking spot, and start rifling through the racks. I picked out easily 10 things that would have worked. Would have being the operative phrase. NOTHING looked right, good, fit well, just nothing. I finally took this one dress that had a florally print, blouson top and tight short skirt. It didn't look as well on me as it does on this lovely model, but it worked.
Tug, tug, tug, shift, pull, tug, pull.....Greet friends that you really love hanging out with and never have enough time to see them as much as you'd like. Sit and have a Sea Breeze, some prosciutto tug, tug, tug, pull....more friends come in, get up to hug and kiss hello. And as you walk over to a particularly favorite couple you hear the guy say "Hello beautiful" followed by a huge hug. Oh are you referring to me??? And at that, I stopped the rearranging. I let my molecules be. Someone was seeing me with the eyes I wished I had and I stopped myself. Let myself have fun, and let it all loose when they played the Cupid Shuffle and no one was really out there showing them how it gets done.
Then I got thinking of the Cupid Shuffle. Silly song really, but one that makes my day every time I hear it. I believe it has to do with Christmas Cookies, Katie's Birthday, my girls in the kitchen as I was making my special Italian Rainbow cookies and Katie put it on. We all stopped what we were doing and started shuffling together. It was a rare time when we were together and happy and all was good. My girls played the song today and we all broke into the dance, I was covered in dust and grumbling about it, it was what I needed to hear. It changes my mood immediately.
That got me thinking about music in general. It is such an amazing thing if you think about it. I have everything from the Carmina Burana, to the Overture of 1812 to AC/DC to Linkin Park to Run DMC to Ludacris on my Ipod. There is something so interminable about music. There are some songs I listen to that make me happy, some help me through work outs that I think I'll never be able to make it through, some that bring tears to my eyes because the melody is such genius and I am awestruck that someone could weave notes together in such a moving way...Some that are so sensual to me that they are like porn to my ears. Others evoke memories, if I hear Hello by Martin Solveig I break out in a cold sweat and my stomach knots because that song was on before we started our Ironman Florida swim hahaha! I couldn't live in a world without music to wrap around me.
Then I wondered what my dog thinks when she looks at me or he looks at me with those sweet eyes. They just come over and look at me like they need something that only I can give them and I ask myself what is it that goes on in there? Are you loving me at that moment when I am scratching your head as much as I am loving you? Are you thinking, she might be tasty with barbeque sauce? Are you thinking, are you my mother? I wish I knew....
I could go on and on, my thoughts threading together today, emptying from my mind like I had a wand and Dumbledore's pensieve...but I have so much more to do to get my house ready and I've rambled enough already.
Maybe cleaning and clearing the dust and cobwebs from my home is a way for me to clear the same from my head. Cleaning is my mental floss.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Angels come in all sorts of packages.
As I swept up the umpteenth Artemis sized hair ball today, I am cleaning for some special visitors who will be a part of our family this next year almost, I thought of someone. I don't even know his name, but he helped me one day, probably saved me even and I pray for him every time he comes to my mind. It got me thinking it's funny how people come in and out of our lives. Each person, regardless of how long they are there has a purpose and is significant somehow.
It was a dark and stormy night, no, not really, but Snoopy when he is writing on his doghouse always starts his story that way. I thought I'd give it a try lol.
Geez, I was younger when I met this guy. I was visiting my mom, dad was still alive too. Brad couldn't come up with us, but he was going to fly and meet us, he was on a business trip, then drive back down with me. My family had this thing about me driving alone with the kids, I got enough flak for driving up without him. Anyway I had to go to LaGuardia to pick him up. There was tons of road construction going on and there were detours galore. I was doing alright, but after one turn I got really turned around. Let me further date myself by saying there was no GPS readily available either. I kept turning thinking I had it figured out, and then I looked around. *gulp* I wasn't in Kansas anymore Toto. Not even remotely close. Holy smokes, I was in a pretty rough area. I kept driving, hoping I didn't hit any red lights, hoping I could find my way out, but it was not to be. So I did what any good Catholic girl does when she's scared, I prayed. "Dear Lord, send me a guardian angel. I have my kids with me and I am so lost"...as luck would have it I hit a red light. I was scared and confused and trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do. In front of me was this big, black Mercedes with windows so dark you couldn't see through them. Suddenly someone got out of this car. I vividly remember my heart racing, ready to fly out of my chest, he looked a lot like Biggie Smalls
but really tall, he was wearing all black, a black hat, leather duster, the whole nine yards, he was pimping it hard and at that precise moment as I am thinking all of this, he walked to my window and knocked on it. Let's see if anyone can guess what happened next....insert the Jeopardy theme here....Did I pass out? Scream? Open my window? Inquiring minds want to know.
I opened my window and blurted out, before he could say anything, "I'm lost, could you please help me?" Maybe it was the pathetically small voice I asked in, maybe it was the the tears in my eyes, maybe it was Katheryn (all of one or two) baldish, small and pink in the back seat smiling and waving like a maniac at my new found friend. But his face broke into a smile. You know you look out of place in a neighborhood when the guy in front of you gets out of his car to ask you if you're lost. He tried to tell me how many turns back I needed to make, I tried to keep up, but he finally said, "follow me". I ask you again, what did I do? Did I take that leap of faith? Did I say, No, I have your directions I'm fine? Survey says.....I took a leap of faith and followed him.
I kept asking myself if I was crazy as we drove. This guy could be leading me anywhere, kill me, my two girls and no one would ever know. I didn't have a cell phone back then either. He lead us down this narrow road, there was a basketball court on one side surrounded by a chain link fence and on the other side was a graffiti covered building with cars parked along side of it. There was the car in front of me I was following and a car behind. Suddenly the car I was following jerked to a halt. This is it I thought, I am trapped, no where to drive to get away, I am done for. My eyes got all welly, I heard myself telling my girls it would be ok, we would get to daddy soon trying to keep my voice from shaking. Then I saw that a car in front of my black Mercedes had stopped and kids were pouring out of the car running towards mine, GEEBUS CRIPES, I'M GONNA GET KILLED BY A BUNCH OF KIDS WITH BASKETBALLS....Oh, wait, they ran past my car, through the opening in the fence around the basket ball court and started dribbling away. We started driving again. About five minutes later my Mercedes stopped one more time. Biggie got out again, came over to my window and said, "turn at that light and you will see the signs for the terminals. Be safe in your travels my sister, God bless you". I shook his outstretched hand with both of mine, and thanked him profusely, but really I don't think I could possibly convey how truly grateful I was. Then he tipped his hat at me, walked over to his Mercedes and drove away.
Don't know how I got so lost, but I will never forget that man in his black Mercedes. Whenever I remember him I thank God for sending me the coolest looking Guardian Angel ever. I pray for him, his family although I don't know who I am praying for.
Makes me think of a line from a Billy Joel song, So many faces in and out of my life, some will last, some will be now and then.................and some will be Guardian angels, in black leather that you never forget.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Yeah, I climb walls, but in a good way.
I don't know if I will be able to follow up my last blog with anything that can even remotely come close to what I wrote. I touched something in a great many of you. I received so many PMs, ones that left a lump in my throat, that hitch that makes you swallow and blink a lot and me wishing that I could change things for everyone. I wish there were a way to pop my eyeballs out and let you borrow them, so you can see you as beautifully as I, and the rest of the world do. Then I wish you could do the same for me! This is something we need to work on ladies, any ideas you have, send them to me. I will craft a blog around them and revisit our issues. A brainstorming session on how to heal!
But to get back to my subject line, I did climb a wall yesterday, sort of. It was part of a Crossfit workout. Basically you're doing a handstand, facing the wall and you scootch down the wall. That was just part of the warm up, besides this insane ab work, and rowing and inchworms and I'm not even listing everything we did before we actually got to the workout for the day (henceforth known as the WOD)!
Brad dragged me along on another one of his ideas of a good time, like Sharkfest Swim from Alcatraz. This time into the world of Crossfit. Let me back up a bit. My 9 year old was on a soccer team last year and one of her coaches owns a Crossfit box. He and his wife just added a new member to their lovely family. When we were at the end of season party someone handed that little angel to me, and well don't get me started on how I feel when I have a baby in my arms...That warm cuddle, the little noises they make, how wonderful they feel cradled in your arms, and I swear the top of their head smells like caramel to me, sweet and yummy. Anyway Brad said to me, after speaking to Kevin who owns the place, we're doing Crossfit. At that point of my holding this sweet baby smitten-ness, he could have said, "Oh, yes, after we eat we're doing another Ironman" and I'd have been all "Ok, just let me finish holding this bundle". The old baby diversion, well played Brad, well played. In my absentminded-baby holding-fog-on-the-brain-moment, I agreed to what? I thought after I handed the baby back to his dad. I had to look it up on YouTube. I about barfed, what was I thinking?? Obviously I wasn't. How could I be so foolish I thought? But Brad committed us and I wasn't happy with Triathlon training anymore so here we go.....
............And here I am, 3 months plus later absolutely loving the workouts. They are the hardest, most intense things, and that's just the warm up. I want a shirt that says, "My warm up is your work out". I get my workout done in an hours time, and I am good for the day. It's pretty freaking awesome. And the coaches don't let you have a defeatist attitude no matter how hard it gets. There are no "I can'ts" allowed. You can and you will, whether it's a scaled down version of what the WOD is, or it's the WOD as prescribed. We all walk away feeling a sense of accomplishment, and we all walk away with a workout that is second to none. My workout being just as difficult for me, as Brad's is for him. The camaraderie, the coaches, every one of them, it just rounds out one of the best work out experiences I have ever had.
This is the place we go to http://www.crossfitmidlo.com/. Spartan and almost torture chamber-esque in it's decor, no cushy carpets, no fancy locker rooms/ladies room for comfort, no muzak or soft colors. Just pull-up bars, rings and ropes hanging from the ceiling, weight bars standing at attention in the corner. Spindles with various weight plates, rowing machines, kettle bells, medicine balls....its really IN YO FACE, WAKE UP AND GITCHA ASS MOVING NOOOOWWW kind of looking. And it does affect me like that. I wake up each morning looking forward to what the WOD is going to be. After I put my eyes on, I reach for my phone and go on the Crossfit website to see what I will be inflicting on myself that day. I particularly like the jello-y feeling in my belly when the countdown starts for our workout. That beep, beep, beep and go...
So yes, I climb the walls, I push jerks, I hang, clean and snatch hahaha, had to put those together what a kid I am, but I can so there, among other crazy things I thought this old, gray mare wouldn't be able to do.
Now it's time for this old lady to head to bed, starting in 3 (beep), 2 (beep), 1 (beep).
But to get back to my subject line, I did climb a wall yesterday, sort of. It was part of a Crossfit workout. Basically you're doing a handstand, facing the wall and you scootch down the wall. That was just part of the warm up, besides this insane ab work, and rowing and inchworms and I'm not even listing everything we did before we actually got to the workout for the day (henceforth known as the WOD)!
Brad dragged me along on another one of his ideas of a good time, like Sharkfest Swim from Alcatraz. This time into the world of Crossfit. Let me back up a bit. My 9 year old was on a soccer team last year and one of her coaches owns a Crossfit box. He and his wife just added a new member to their lovely family. When we were at the end of season party someone handed that little angel to me, and well don't get me started on how I feel when I have a baby in my arms...That warm cuddle, the little noises they make, how wonderful they feel cradled in your arms, and I swear the top of their head smells like caramel to me, sweet and yummy. Anyway Brad said to me, after speaking to Kevin who owns the place, we're doing Crossfit. At that point of my holding this sweet baby smitten-ness, he could have said, "Oh, yes, after we eat we're doing another Ironman" and I'd have been all "Ok, just let me finish holding this bundle". The old baby diversion, well played Brad, well played. In my absentminded-baby holding-fog-on-the-brain-moment, I agreed to what? I thought after I handed the baby back to his dad. I had to look it up on YouTube. I about barfed, what was I thinking?? Obviously I wasn't. How could I be so foolish I thought? But Brad committed us and I wasn't happy with Triathlon training anymore so here we go.....
............And here I am, 3 months plus later absolutely loving the workouts. They are the hardest, most intense things, and that's just the warm up. I want a shirt that says, "My warm up is your work out". I get my workout done in an hours time, and I am good for the day. It's pretty freaking awesome. And the coaches don't let you have a defeatist attitude no matter how hard it gets. There are no "I can'ts" allowed. You can and you will, whether it's a scaled down version of what the WOD is, or it's the WOD as prescribed. We all walk away feeling a sense of accomplishment, and we all walk away with a workout that is second to none. My workout being just as difficult for me, as Brad's is for him. The camaraderie, the coaches, every one of them, it just rounds out one of the best work out experiences I have ever had.
This is the place we go to http://www.crossfitmidlo.com/. Spartan and almost torture chamber-esque in it's decor, no cushy carpets, no fancy locker rooms/ladies room for comfort, no muzak or soft colors. Just pull-up bars, rings and ropes hanging from the ceiling, weight bars standing at attention in the corner. Spindles with various weight plates, rowing machines, kettle bells, medicine balls....its really IN YO FACE, WAKE UP AND GITCHA ASS MOVING NOOOOWWW kind of looking. And it does affect me like that. I wake up each morning looking forward to what the WOD is going to be. After I put my eyes on, I reach for my phone and go on the Crossfit website to see what I will be inflicting on myself that day. I particularly like the jello-y feeling in my belly when the countdown starts for our workout. That beep, beep, beep and go...
So yes, I climb the walls, I push jerks, I hang, clean and snatch hahaha, had to put those together what a kid I am, but I can so there, among other crazy things I thought this old, gray mare wouldn't be able to do.
Now it's time for this old lady to head to bed, starting in 3 (beep), 2 (beep), 1 (beep).
Monday, August 6, 2012
I wish I could see what you see....
A friend of mine reminded me that I haven't blogged in a long while. Life has been so crazy, I just haven't had the time or inspiration. But as I looked at myself in the mirror this morning I thought to myself, "I wish I could see what Brad sees when he looks at me". And a blog post was born.
See, I have this problem, when I look in a mirror I don't see the me of today.
I see the me of yesterday, the me in elementary school who was overweight. The me of high school and my first year in college that needed so desperately to take care of herself, lose weight, stop smoking, so many things I would change. But that is what I see.
It's funny some days it's elementary school Danielle. The girl who boys like Kevin and Tommy picked on so mercilessly. I can remember every single awful name ever thrown at me, the fat cows, pigs, hippos, horses, whales used to taunted and hurt. I subsequently turned into a rather nasty kid. My brother would step in and kick the living crap out of the boys that picked on me, because only HE could call me names. Celia Cellulite being one of his more creative ones. I do remember when one of the two above boys mentioned came up to me and told me he couldn't wait for my brother to graduate from St.Hyacinth's because he was going to get me.
My mom finally put me on this diet she saw in our local paper and I lost weight one summer. Almost 20 pounds. I was thrilled to go to school and get measured in front of everyone for my uniform, (yep they measured and called out sizes and everything, not one of my favorite days), thrilled to show them the new me. That was my 7th grade year and the first year my brother wasn't in school with me. I was even a cheerleader for the basketball team with my new found confidence. Eighth grade came and the teasing started again. Not sure why, I hadn't gained weight back, but that Tommy kid just couldn't stop with the names. I finally had enough on our 8th grade class trip. After a fun day at an amusement park we all got on the bus, went to get in our seats and he was sitting in mine. In kid world it was a good one, near the back where all the cool kids sat. I asked him to move and he refused. Then he started in with the names. I guess how many years of name calling finally caught up to me and I had had enough. So I took him to the back seat, beat the ever living hell out of him myself (see my brother decided I needed to learn to defend myself in case those boys ever tried to hurt me) and broke two fingers in the process. I can still remember his buddy Kevin screaming at him, are you gonna let a girl do this to you?? Hahahahaha!! Like he had a choice.
Needless to say no one bothered me again. The story I told my Nun was I fell and landed funny on my fingers when I asked if we could get some ice to stop the swelling. Tommy didn't say anything about what happened, I guess the humiliation of having his ass whooped by a girl would have been too much for him. Enough of that though, wow did that bring back some memories I hadn't intended on writing down...should they stay or should they go, I don't know. I guess I'll see.
Other days it's High School Danielle, the yo-yo dieter. I was up, I was down, I had jeans I wore when I was heavy, I had my skinny jeans. This was back in the day of Jordache, Gloria Vanderbilt and Sasson. I'd leaf through 17 magazine and wish to look like those girls in their awesome outfits, flawless skin, perfect hair and smiles. Here I am the day after my Sr. Prom at Jones Beach with some friends, this was a down weight time for me.
At least the name calling stopped though. In high school it was a different kind of shunning you got, you watched as the skinny girls got asked out on dates, asked to prom, the ones the boys fell over themselves to get noticed by *sigh* never happened for me. I'd have dates here and there when I lost weight, and I did manage to screw up the courage to ask a boy to both my proms, but for the most part I didn't have a boyfriend and dates were few and far between.
Or, I see the freshman me of my college days. Which one is me in this lovely photo??
Oy vey, the freshman fifteen everyone is supposed to gain? Try the freshman 40 for me. Pizza, buffalo wings and beer. Might work for some, definitely not for me, but something miraculous happened my sophomore year. I blew my knee out yet again (no that's not the miraculous part. I did that every year since I turned 14 duh) and I had to have surgery. After I had my surgery I had to do physical therapy and work it out. I did that all summer until I went back to college for my Junior year and people didn't recognize me I had dropped so much weight and gotten in such good shape. I pretty much kept it that way by doing aerobics and laying off loads of the junk food. When I met Brad my senior year, I was still a size 6.
He saw me the way I really looked. He liked what he saw. But I still didn't see what he saw. I didn't see the person one of my college friends was referring to when she said to me, "Look at you Skinny Minny", the first time she saw me after my surgery summer. I tried but I didn't.
Fast forward to the Triathlon me. Ugh, the me having to wear spandex, the fear and discomfort I felt having to wear something that form fitting, and let's add insult to injury, I had to wear a bathing suit pretty much year round if I kept up with my swimming.
Bathing suits and me, a totally hate relationship, I can't even say love/hate, just hate. Even when I was training for the IM, and was in pretty amazing shape I was told, all I saw was the pooch of my stomach or my back fat.
But how do I stop this? I say to Brad all of the time, I want to see what you, and every one else sees. I want to see how I really look, not the flaws. Do all women do this to themselves?? Do we all treat ourselves so poorly? What kind of example am I setting for my girls? I try to be careful and not do it in front of them, but they know.
I frustrate the heck out of Brad with the way I criticize my image when ever I look at myself. I find fault immediately. I will say I look squishy, or soft. I have been doing Crossfit with Brad since May I think it is and today as I looked at myself getting into the shower all I thought is, I see such change in Brad, me I see cellulite-y thighs, my poochy stomach and a muffin top. I got in the shower with all the negatives, I was back in grade school again, that teasing ringing in my head. Does this look squishy to you?
One time after my father died, I was looking in the mirror and I swore he was standing right behind me with his hand touching my shoulder. He was smiling, and for a dazed split second I believe he stood with me. When I did a double take, of course it was just me in the mirror.
There are times, far and few between where I'll catch a glimpse of myself and like what I see.
I think to myself, THIS is what Brad sees. It reminds me of that day with my dad behind me. I'll do a double take and that image is gone. And like that day, I keep looking, wishing for that image to come back.....I still do.
I see the me of yesterday, the me in elementary school who was overweight. The me of high school and my first year in college that needed so desperately to take care of herself, lose weight, stop smoking, so many things I would change. But that is what I see.
It's funny some days it's elementary school Danielle. The girl who boys like Kevin and Tommy picked on so mercilessly. I can remember every single awful name ever thrown at me, the fat cows, pigs, hippos, horses, whales used to taunted and hurt. I subsequently turned into a rather nasty kid. My brother would step in and kick the living crap out of the boys that picked on me, because only HE could call me names. Celia Cellulite being one of his more creative ones. I do remember when one of the two above boys mentioned came up to me and told me he couldn't wait for my brother to graduate from St.Hyacinth's because he was going to get me.
My mom finally put me on this diet she saw in our local paper and I lost weight one summer. Almost 20 pounds. I was thrilled to go to school and get measured in front of everyone for my uniform, (yep they measured and called out sizes and everything, not one of my favorite days), thrilled to show them the new me. That was my 7th grade year and the first year my brother wasn't in school with me. I was even a cheerleader for the basketball team with my new found confidence. Eighth grade came and the teasing started again. Not sure why, I hadn't gained weight back, but that Tommy kid just couldn't stop with the names. I finally had enough on our 8th grade class trip. After a fun day at an amusement park we all got on the bus, went to get in our seats and he was sitting in mine. In kid world it was a good one, near the back where all the cool kids sat. I asked him to move and he refused. Then he started in with the names. I guess how many years of name calling finally caught up to me and I had had enough. So I took him to the back seat, beat the ever living hell out of him myself (see my brother decided I needed to learn to defend myself in case those boys ever tried to hurt me) and broke two fingers in the process. I can still remember his buddy Kevin screaming at him, are you gonna let a girl do this to you?? Hahahahaha!! Like he had a choice.
Needless to say no one bothered me again. The story I told my Nun was I fell and landed funny on my fingers when I asked if we could get some ice to stop the swelling. Tommy didn't say anything about what happened, I guess the humiliation of having his ass whooped by a girl would have been too much for him. Enough of that though, wow did that bring back some memories I hadn't intended on writing down...should they stay or should they go, I don't know. I guess I'll see.
Other days it's High School Danielle, the yo-yo dieter. I was up, I was down, I had jeans I wore when I was heavy, I had my skinny jeans. This was back in the day of Jordache, Gloria Vanderbilt and Sasson. I'd leaf through 17 magazine and wish to look like those girls in their awesome outfits, flawless skin, perfect hair and smiles. Here I am the day after my Sr. Prom at Jones Beach with some friends, this was a down weight time for me.
At least the name calling stopped though. In high school it was a different kind of shunning you got, you watched as the skinny girls got asked out on dates, asked to prom, the ones the boys fell over themselves to get noticed by *sigh* never happened for me. I'd have dates here and there when I lost weight, and I did manage to screw up the courage to ask a boy to both my proms, but for the most part I didn't have a boyfriend and dates were few and far between.
Or, I see the freshman me of my college days. Which one is me in this lovely photo??
Oy vey, the freshman fifteen everyone is supposed to gain? Try the freshman 40 for me. Pizza, buffalo wings and beer. Might work for some, definitely not for me, but something miraculous happened my sophomore year. I blew my knee out yet again (no that's not the miraculous part. I did that every year since I turned 14 duh) and I had to have surgery. After I had my surgery I had to do physical therapy and work it out. I did that all summer until I went back to college for my Junior year and people didn't recognize me I had dropped so much weight and gotten in such good shape. I pretty much kept it that way by doing aerobics and laying off loads of the junk food. When I met Brad my senior year, I was still a size 6.
He saw me the way I really looked. He liked what he saw. But I still didn't see what he saw. I didn't see the person one of my college friends was referring to when she said to me, "Look at you Skinny Minny", the first time she saw me after my surgery summer. I tried but I didn't.
Fast forward to the Triathlon me. Ugh, the me having to wear spandex, the fear and discomfort I felt having to wear something that form fitting, and let's add insult to injury, I had to wear a bathing suit pretty much year round if I kept up with my swimming.
But how do I stop this? I say to Brad all of the time, I want to see what you, and every one else sees. I want to see how I really look, not the flaws. Do all women do this to themselves?? Do we all treat ourselves so poorly? What kind of example am I setting for my girls? I try to be careful and not do it in front of them, but they know.
I frustrate the heck out of Brad with the way I criticize my image when ever I look at myself. I find fault immediately. I will say I look squishy, or soft. I have been doing Crossfit with Brad since May I think it is and today as I looked at myself getting into the shower all I thought is, I see such change in Brad, me I see cellulite-y thighs, my poochy stomach and a muffin top. I got in the shower with all the negatives, I was back in grade school again, that teasing ringing in my head. Does this look squishy to you?
One time after my father died, I was looking in the mirror and I swore he was standing right behind me with his hand touching my shoulder. He was smiling, and for a dazed split second I believe he stood with me. When I did a double take, of course it was just me in the mirror.
I think to myself, THIS is what Brad sees. It reminds me of that day with my dad behind me. I'll do a double take and that image is gone. And like that day, I keep looking, wishing for that image to come back.....I still do.
Friday, March 16, 2012
I'm Hungry and There Are Wolves Chasing Me...
Ah, yes Lent. The 40 days where most Catholics give up chocolate, soda, coffee or like I did last year, rather unsuccessfully I might add, swearing. It's unlike me to do the giving up thing, but my language needed some work. I feel like it's not enough to just "give" something up. Here I am on another fasting and meatless Friday, trying to forget how hungry I am. And I got thinking about Lent stuff.
I am not going to get all preachy on my blog. In the spirit of full disclosure, I am a cradle Catholic, and love a majority of the tenets behind my faith. I find a great deal of comfort in the rites and rituals and believe you "gotta have faith, or you fall". That's a Jim Morrison quote for anyone who is interested. But I also have a theory on religion, I believe that God appears to us in a way that makes sense to us and will make us believe and be the best followers, and subsequently, people we can be. It explains religious diversity in my humble opinion. I don't believe that my Jewish sister-in-law is going to Hell for not believing in Christ the way I do, nor do I believe my dear friend Noureen is wrong in her faith in Allah. I think we're all praying to the same Being, however we do. God is no fool, and He knows how to get people to follow.
But back to my original thought on Lent. I decided this Lent to do what I have done in years past. I am not giving up anything, but I am doing something meaningful, and hopefully makes a small difference in a good way. This year I am practicing one random act of kindness each day. It was as simple as letting someone in the carpool line in front of me, at the ever hairy Cosby High School traffic fiasco, that was trying to get in and no one was letting. One small gesture made this mom's morning a little easier. Like I said, it is just a mess in front of that school most mornings, good luck surviving the mayhem. So maybe this mom goes ahead with her day a little more relaxed and pays it forward right? A chain reaction of good, little gestures could happen here. And that's my goal with my Lenten promise. I want to make a positive difference in someone's life every day.
Then I get thinking on Fridays as I am fasting and abstaining from meat, wow this is tough. It hurts to not eat enough and I think of all the kids in this country that go to bed hungry every night. I remember the article I read about how not all kids love a snow day like mine do. That it means they're not getting their breakfast and lunch at school, probably the only two meals they will get that day. Is my donating food, and money to food pantries enough? I guess maybe I need to examine this a little more and see if I can squeeze more time out of my week and see if I can donate some of my time too...it could work with my random acts of kindness. It also falls nicely within one of the basic tenets of Lent, alms giving. I'll pray that I can find the time.
I guess this leads me back to another pillar of Lent which is prayer. I pray, a lot. Dear God, please keep me from flogging my child, crosses my mind at least once a day hahaha! But seriously, I have so much to be thankful for, I thank God every day for all that I have. For giving me the ability to reach goals, take care of my family the way I do, for letting my eyes see every morning I open them, and legs walk when my feet touch the ground. It's the little things that mean so much....
Which brings me back to my Lenten promise this year. I tried explaining to my daughter why such a little act of kindness could make a difference for someone. Hopefully it made sense to her.
And hopefully I make a small difference every day in someone's life....
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Spatulas, They're Not Just for Breakfast Anymore
A spatula fell out of my car this morning as I was dropping Heather off in front of her school. Her school nurse, who is just a fabulous lady, happened to be walking by and asked if I was done making pancakes. I got laughing with her and explained I didn't have an ice scraper the other morning. It was a WWMacGD moment (what would MacGyver do). Well you go grab a spatula and use that instead of course! But that's the way I grew up. Watching my mom come up with nifty little ideas like that. You should see the things I can do with coat hangers and paper clips too.
Then I started thinking about how I am pretty good with plumbing. I can snake a toilet, replace a kit, the float etc. And there's no one who can take care of our InSinkerator like I can. I can't be bothered with waiting for Brad to come home and unclog it, or make it start spinning again. I have things to do for heaven's sake...And don't get me started with how I can jimmy a lock with my credit card. My neighbor's kids that used to live next door to us in Woodlake would come over at least once a week saying they were locked out. Their mom was a single mom, and her girls would take care of themselves after school. Wonderful family, great neighbors, I miss them. Anyway, they'd come over and I'd get my credit card out. Barbara was forever grateful, which if you think about it, she was grateful that I would break into her home lol, but that's the way that neighborhood was.
I grew up, born and raised, in the same house on Crescent Beach Road in a suburb on Long Island's former Gold Coast. The Woolworth and Pratt estates were at the end of my road, as was a lovely beach. J.P. Morgan donated his estate and property within walking distance from my home in an area called the Landing, really spectacular and picturesque. I lived in the decidedly middle class section of this road. My parents bought the house for a whopping $11,000 from my mom's Aunt Marie back in 1965 or 66. That's how you got houses where I grew up. You knew someone, or knew someone who knew someone who could give you a deal on house. There were no subdivisions, just older homes, like this Cape Cod, that the original part was built in 1911. So you bought an older home and added on to it, sort of like a Lego house. My parents added their bedroom and bathroom, redid our (my brother and mine) bedrooms, and added this glorious Florida room to our little cape over the years. But during all of the additions, I learned a thing or two about construction. I can remember the four of us demolishing my room and my brother's room before the addition of my mom and dad's room on the upstairs. It was fun for a kid about 10 years old to rip old plaster board out and toss it into the dumpster parked below my brother's window.
Of course it was all family that helped do the work. Cousin Pepe was our plumber and took care of heating, cousin MA hooked us up with cement mixers, dump trucks etc. Cousin Two-Ton took care of carpeting and such. I cannot remember who did the dry wall and mudding, I am thinking it was Johnny Im? Anyway, I learned how to mud like a maniac too. I dare you to try and find where my daughter had her rock climbing practice wall in her room before we painted it, go on and look. Smooth as a baby's behind that mud was.
But this was life as I knew it. I can still remember the day TonyBoy came over with his little back hoe to help excavate our basement and how he hit a load bearing piling. Our Lego house almost came tumbling down. Again another exciting moment for a kid that had no idea why my mother was using words that could make a sailor blush lol! But how many other kids can share memories like this? Am I really waxing nostalgic for my house almost being demolished hahaha?
Landscaping and yard work, another thing that I do in this house not my husband. My grandfather started a landscaping company after he took his retirement from Grumman's. We loved to tend to his garden and I'd get to hear his stories about life as HE knew it growing up back in the day. I still use what I learned from him when I garden. If I keep tomatoes, I put a red platic cup that you cut the bottom off of around the bottom of the plant so the cut worms don't cut through the stalk. Or use crushed egg shells around the base of your zucchini and squash plants to keep the slugs away. I spray plants with a mixture of dish soap and water to kill Japanese beetles. He was the original organic farmer before that became all the rage. And talk about your primitive medicine, he used to put spiderwebs on his cuts, yes spider webs. Sometimes he put honey. I learned later on in an archaeology class I took in college that spider webs do have a rudimentary form of penicillin in them. But a plethora of knowledge he was and the man could play the mandolin, guitar and harmonica like a beast. I used to love fishing with him too, but that will be a blog for another day.
The sad thing is my girls will never know all of those little pleasures I grew up with. Our houses have always been new, our subdivisions don't let you keep a big garden. When we needed a bigger home we went and bought one, there are new homes galore around here. Odd to consider such things as little pleasures, but truly they were in hindsight especially.
And we have no family here. Not that we need help with building a dormer, or digging out a basement, but even for a Friday night get together, which was how my family spent most Friday nights, gathering with family, they don't have that. We have friends that count to our hearts as our family, but my girls will never know what it's like to be in a house with 50 or so people celebrating a Holiday, a birthday, or just being Italian!
Good time, good times. Now I am thinking of Friday night at Aunt Dolly's, mmmmmmm. I am making myself hungry and suddenly have the urge for pancakes, off to make them! Now where did I put that spatula lol?
Then I started thinking about how I am pretty good with plumbing. I can snake a toilet, replace a kit, the float etc. And there's no one who can take care of our InSinkerator like I can. I can't be bothered with waiting for Brad to come home and unclog it, or make it start spinning again. I have things to do for heaven's sake...And don't get me started with how I can jimmy a lock with my credit card. My neighbor's kids that used to live next door to us in Woodlake would come over at least once a week saying they were locked out. Their mom was a single mom, and her girls would take care of themselves after school. Wonderful family, great neighbors, I miss them. Anyway, they'd come over and I'd get my credit card out. Barbara was forever grateful, which if you think about it, she was grateful that I would break into her home lol, but that's the way that neighborhood was.
I grew up, born and raised, in the same house on Crescent Beach Road in a suburb on Long Island's former Gold Coast. The Woolworth and Pratt estates were at the end of my road, as was a lovely beach. J.P. Morgan donated his estate and property within walking distance from my home in an area called the Landing, really spectacular and picturesque. I lived in the decidedly middle class section of this road. My parents bought the house for a whopping $11,000 from my mom's Aunt Marie back in 1965 or 66. That's how you got houses where I grew up. You knew someone, or knew someone who knew someone who could give you a deal on house. There were no subdivisions, just older homes, like this Cape Cod, that the original part was built in 1911. So you bought an older home and added on to it, sort of like a Lego house. My parents added their bedroom and bathroom, redid our (my brother and mine) bedrooms, and added this glorious Florida room to our little cape over the years. But during all of the additions, I learned a thing or two about construction. I can remember the four of us demolishing my room and my brother's room before the addition of my mom and dad's room on the upstairs. It was fun for a kid about 10 years old to rip old plaster board out and toss it into the dumpster parked below my brother's window.
Of course it was all family that helped do the work. Cousin Pepe was our plumber and took care of heating, cousin MA hooked us up with cement mixers, dump trucks etc. Cousin Two-Ton took care of carpeting and such. I cannot remember who did the dry wall and mudding, I am thinking it was Johnny Im? Anyway, I learned how to mud like a maniac too. I dare you to try and find where my daughter had her rock climbing practice wall in her room before we painted it, go on and look. Smooth as a baby's behind that mud was.
But this was life as I knew it. I can still remember the day TonyBoy came over with his little back hoe to help excavate our basement and how he hit a load bearing piling. Our Lego house almost came tumbling down. Again another exciting moment for a kid that had no idea why my mother was using words that could make a sailor blush lol! But how many other kids can share memories like this? Am I really waxing nostalgic for my house almost being demolished hahaha?
Landscaping and yard work, another thing that I do in this house not my husband. My grandfather started a landscaping company after he took his retirement from Grumman's. We loved to tend to his garden and I'd get to hear his stories about life as HE knew it growing up back in the day. I still use what I learned from him when I garden. If I keep tomatoes, I put a red platic cup that you cut the bottom off of around the bottom of the plant so the cut worms don't cut through the stalk. Or use crushed egg shells around the base of your zucchini and squash plants to keep the slugs away. I spray plants with a mixture of dish soap and water to kill Japanese beetles. He was the original organic farmer before that became all the rage. And talk about your primitive medicine, he used to put spiderwebs on his cuts, yes spider webs. Sometimes he put honey. I learned later on in an archaeology class I took in college that spider webs do have a rudimentary form of penicillin in them. But a plethora of knowledge he was and the man could play the mandolin, guitar and harmonica like a beast. I used to love fishing with him too, but that will be a blog for another day.
The sad thing is my girls will never know all of those little pleasures I grew up with. Our houses have always been new, our subdivisions don't let you keep a big garden. When we needed a bigger home we went and bought one, there are new homes galore around here. Odd to consider such things as little pleasures, but truly they were in hindsight especially.
And we have no family here. Not that we need help with building a dormer, or digging out a basement, but even for a Friday night get together, which was how my family spent most Friday nights, gathering with family, they don't have that. We have friends that count to our hearts as our family, but my girls will never know what it's like to be in a house with 50 or so people celebrating a Holiday, a birthday, or just being Italian!
Good time, good times. Now I am thinking of Friday night at Aunt Dolly's, mmmmmmm. I am making myself hungry and suddenly have the urge for pancakes, off to make them! Now where did I put that spatula lol?
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