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?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
What's Your Problem??? revisited
Hormones (ok, this old joke how do you make a whore moan? Forget to pay her! just popped in my head for some stupid reason) Yeah that's what my blog was about, not about not paying whores, but about my raging, 44 year old hormones. Do hormones ever go rancid if kept around too long?? I am beginning to think they do.
See, I hate posting my blog with errors, and I did. So I figured I could correct it while I was waiting to get one of my daughters from school on my phone and I deleted the post. Did I mention technology and I get along not at all?? What possessed me to think I could do that I will never know....
It was good, it completely captured how I am feeling hormonally. What it's like for Brad to live with hormonal females, and well, I just don't want to be bothered with writing it again. It wouldn't be as good.
It started out {{{hormones}}} I mean really that should explain a lot of why I am so stinking upset! Then I wanted to know what you were looking at, really, keep staring and I might start doing tricks or something...I went on to talk about being hormonal and hungry, because I am fasting for Ash Wednesday, and how there was no way in hell I was going to give up chocolate for Lent, ain't gonna happen...did I mention I just snarfed a whole bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms on my way to the bus stop to try and calm my nerves??
I explained how there were three females now, it used to be 4, living under this roof that were all in female sync with each other...and how my husband, God bless him, put up with us like a saint. How he wanted his own bathroom someday when we started looking for houses after the birth of our FOURTH daughter because he didn't want any of our girlie things near his man things. How his vanity is covered in his manly things with nary a girlie thing near his clippers, shaving cream, razors, hair products and moisturizer. And how that sounded a bit suspect and not at all manly, but how could he not pick up any girlie things living with 5 girls once upon a time??
*throws my arms up in the air and squeals mid typing aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!* just went down another drop on the hormonal Intimidator....
How there is only Apollo as the other source of testosterone in our house. How we even got another female dog after Beau passed away. But there's something about how he deals with females. When he's dealing with one of his girls, his demeanor goes from Mr. Robinson Hockey visionary, business man and all around successful guy, to Daddy. The man who was so incredibly moved at the birth of each of his girls, who hurts with his girls when they hurt and shares in each and every joy. How he wishes he could have his shotgun to keep the teenage boy suitors at bay and how he'd love to keep his girls with their No Entry signs on ala History of the World and Madeline Kahn's character. How outraged he would get when people would suggest his girls were second best to the sons he "should' have had, or suggest he should try for a son as if he were robbed of something by having his harem instead.
*sob* It was good and I can't remember it exactly. But it was so spot on about his life and what it's like for him to be lucky enough to have me in it hahahaha!!! How his being lucky enough to be in a house of hormonal women taught him to be unflappable in the face of adversity, smile when he's really a raging bull behind those teeth, calm and cool on top when he's really paddling like a rabid duck beneath the surface.
Why could I not wait to correct the mistake I thought I had already corrected? Why did I think that this stupid site would save a draft or something? Why couldn't I have left the original title that the spelling of you're I had, would work in it still??
Like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, the world may never know...
See, I hate posting my blog with errors, and I did. So I figured I could correct it while I was waiting to get one of my daughters from school on my phone and I deleted the post. Did I mention technology and I get along not at all?? What possessed me to think I could do that I will never know....
It was good, it completely captured how I am feeling hormonally. What it's like for Brad to live with hormonal females, and well, I just don't want to be bothered with writing it again. It wouldn't be as good.
It started out {{{hormones}}} I mean really that should explain a lot of why I am so stinking upset! Then I wanted to know what you were looking at, really, keep staring and I might start doing tricks or something...I went on to talk about being hormonal and hungry, because I am fasting for Ash Wednesday, and how there was no way in hell I was going to give up chocolate for Lent, ain't gonna happen...did I mention I just snarfed a whole bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms on my way to the bus stop to try and calm my nerves??
I explained how there were three females now, it used to be 4, living under this roof that were all in female sync with each other...and how my husband, God bless him, put up with us like a saint. How he wanted his own bathroom someday when we started looking for houses after the birth of our FOURTH daughter because he didn't want any of our girlie things near his man things. How his vanity is covered in his manly things with nary a girlie thing near his clippers, shaving cream, razors, hair products and moisturizer. And how that sounded a bit suspect and not at all manly, but how could he not pick up any girlie things living with 5 girls once upon a time??
*throws my arms up in the air and squeals mid typing aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!* just went down another drop on the hormonal Intimidator....
How there is only Apollo as the other source of testosterone in our house. How we even got another female dog after Beau passed away. But there's something about how he deals with females. When he's dealing with one of his girls, his demeanor goes from Mr. Robinson Hockey visionary, business man and all around successful guy, to Daddy. The man who was so incredibly moved at the birth of each of his girls, who hurts with his girls when they hurt and shares in each and every joy. How he wishes he could have his shotgun to keep the teenage boy suitors at bay and how he'd love to keep his girls with their No Entry signs on ala History of the World and Madeline Kahn's character. How outraged he would get when people would suggest his girls were second best to the sons he "should' have had, or suggest he should try for a son as if he were robbed of something by having his harem instead.
*sob* It was good and I can't remember it exactly. But it was so spot on about his life and what it's like for him to be lucky enough to have me in it hahahaha!!! How his being lucky enough to be in a house of hormonal women taught him to be unflappable in the face of adversity, smile when he's really a raging bull behind those teeth, calm and cool on top when he's really paddling like a rabid duck beneath the surface.
Why could I not wait to correct the mistake I thought I had already corrected? Why did I think that this stupid site would save a draft or something? Why couldn't I have left the original title that the spelling of you're I had, would work in it still??
Like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, the world may never know...
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Thinking Out Loud...Squirrel!
A friend whose opinion I value greatly said I should write a book/cookbook the other day. That she'd totally buy it if I did. I have to say I was truly flattered. I don't think much about my cooking or writing, because I guess I love to do them and they come naturally to me. Like Brad just "getting" computer things. Any kind of problem, Brad can totally figure it out. Or how numbers make sense to him, he catches things on our taxes or balancing out our books each month that our Accountant misses. Go figure.... But I don't know that he'd write a book about that knowledge, what kind of market could there be for something like that? Kind of like how I feel about the book idea for me and my favorite things.
Maybe I could manage to piece together the outline of a book. But how? what to write about? I'm not all that interesting. I don't have many things in my life that others would truly find interesting or read worthy and the few things I do I could NEVER put down in black and white for the world to see. My friends and family would never look at me the same *muah*.
My husband loves the way I think and write subsequently. It's the world according to Bitsy (his nickname for me it comes from my favorite Calvin and Hobbes comic) he says. Every now and again I'll let him see how my thoughts really flow and I have to say it's an interesting place albeit confusing, to those who don't think like I do! He looks at me and shakes his head completely baffled. If I had to decribe his thinking, it's linear, you go from point A to point B, in that quick, straight line. My thinking well it's like sunshine, lollipops, rainbows...squirrel! Get it lol? Perhaps that's why we work so well together, we are so not alike on that front. I do tease him though, he thinks VERY loudly some days and I love surprising him with blurting out his thoughts when his brow is creased in his deep thoughts look. Edgar Cayce has nothing on me haha! Ok, right there, see, I was following a thought and the next thing you know I am talking about Edgar Cayce. A semi-squirrel moment happening right there in between the sunshine and lollipops.
So maybe my blog will be my book in waiting as it were. I like putting thoughts down on paper, well computer screen nowadays, and seeing an archive of my life. When I go back over my blog I laugh out loud at some of the things I wrote. It's kind of like my cooking, I really like my own cooking (no wonder I battle the bulge all of the time) and sometimes I hit on a creation or recipe that makes my taste buds sing! There are those thoughts that I manage to put into words just right and I tickle myself silly when I go back and read them! And like with my cooking, I am extremely critical of what I produce writing wise too. I guess we're always hardest on ourselves. Would I be able to take criticism and a potential book being shot down by a publisher? Questions to ask.
I need to get a following for this blog of mine. Brad thinks I need to figure out my niche, and then I would develop a core of followers. I think if I had more then 8 people following my blog, I'd feel better about trying to put myself out there. But who knows? Could this be the thing that makes me happy? I don't know, but I believe Cyndi's idea deserves further consideration on my part...
Maybe I could manage to piece together the outline of a book. But how? what to write about? I'm not all that interesting. I don't have many things in my life that others would truly find interesting or read worthy and the few things I do I could NEVER put down in black and white for the world to see. My friends and family would never look at me the same *muah*.
My husband loves the way I think and write subsequently. It's the world according to Bitsy (his nickname for me it comes from my favorite Calvin and Hobbes comic) he says. Every now and again I'll let him see how my thoughts really flow and I have to say it's an interesting place albeit confusing, to those who don't think like I do! He looks at me and shakes his head completely baffled. If I had to decribe his thinking, it's linear, you go from point A to point B, in that quick, straight line. My thinking well it's like sunshine, lollipops, rainbows...squirrel! Get it lol? Perhaps that's why we work so well together, we are so not alike on that front. I do tease him though, he thinks VERY loudly some days and I love surprising him with blurting out his thoughts when his brow is creased in his deep thoughts look. Edgar Cayce has nothing on me haha! Ok, right there, see, I was following a thought and the next thing you know I am talking about Edgar Cayce. A semi-squirrel moment happening right there in between the sunshine and lollipops.
So maybe my blog will be my book in waiting as it were. I like putting thoughts down on paper, well computer screen nowadays, and seeing an archive of my life. When I go back over my blog I laugh out loud at some of the things I wrote. It's kind of like my cooking, I really like my own cooking (no wonder I battle the bulge all of the time) and sometimes I hit on a creation or recipe that makes my taste buds sing! There are those thoughts that I manage to put into words just right and I tickle myself silly when I go back and read them! And like with my cooking, I am extremely critical of what I produce writing wise too. I guess we're always hardest on ourselves. Would I be able to take criticism and a potential book being shot down by a publisher? Questions to ask.
I need to get a following for this blog of mine. Brad thinks I need to figure out my niche, and then I would develop a core of followers. I think if I had more then 8 people following my blog, I'd feel better about trying to put myself out there. But who knows? Could this be the thing that makes me happy? I don't know, but I believe Cyndi's idea deserves further consideration on my part...
And Time Makes It Harder...
I started this morning off way too early. I had trouble falling asleep, don't know why. I was all snuggled in under the down comforter my husband insisted we get (and I'm glad we did now), warm and happy waiting for the shade of sleep to fall on me, but nope. Wasn't happening.
I wondered if it was the spicy Rad Prik shrimp I had for dinner. Let me back up a step here, I went to a very nice dinner with a friend I had been trying to get together with forever and what a fun time I had! We chattered away sans the men in our lives, carrying on girls only type conversations and it was just perfect. Sometimes a girls night out with a really great person is just what you need. But anyway, I was wondering if it was my dinner, but I don't think so. Maybe it was the fact I was alone in my bed and I had nothing to curl into or the familiar hum of my husband sleeping next to me.
Anyway, sleep escaped me, but the puppy sure didn't. I need to explain weekends to her. They mean sleeping in not getting up at our usual 6:00 am. As sure as my weekday alarm, Artie was howling away in her crate calling for me. With one eye open I stumbled down the stairs to take the little girl on a walk. Then I made my coffee and the day was on...
I sat down at my computer to waste some time in the Social Media la la land of lost moments and it just hit me. The tears started welling up, I was missing my Beau. When it's quiet like that, and early morning, Beau comes to my heart so readily. He would walk up to me when I came downstairs during the week to get the girls breakfast together etc. and nudge me with that Boxer nose of his. He'd nudge and nudge, me being mockingly impatient with him saying, "Beau I need both of my hands to make breakfast, make coffee, type this email..." I'd pretend to be all exasperated and he'd keep up, those warm, brown eyes looking at me expectantly and he'd melt my resolve. Of course I would stop and scratch him, his little tail swirling in circles like a helicopter rotor. All the while I was chiding him for taking the time I should have been using for whatever task was at hand. I would wrap my arms around that big, old barrel chest of his and he'd lean into me *sniff*.....
~Insert big Boxer sigh here. My throat has that familiar hitch in it and my vision is all wavy. Oh, how I'd give my left arm for one more morning of wasting my time like that!~
Beau, today my heart is aching for you. Could it be I have been thinking about you since Heather found that picture yesterday of you on your first birthday? She handed me the picture with her head down and her bottom lip trembling. Then she held her arms out to me and snuggled into my hug for a bit until she felt better.
You will have left us 2 months ago here soon and yet my heart aches like I am leaving the Vet's office again. I remember trying so hard to keep my composure as I hovered over your now lifeless body. I hugged that barrel chest one last time before your warmth dissipated and I knew we had to walk to the car. The tears just streamed from my eyes in a never ending flow though. It was futile, I knew those tears wouldn't stop that day. I feel like that all over again. I cannot stanch them for some reason today.
Little Man, I miss you. "I'll keep you locked in my head until we meet again. And I won't forget you my friend.....Time makes it harder, my darling, who knew?"
I wondered if it was the spicy Rad Prik shrimp I had for dinner. Let me back up a step here, I went to a very nice dinner with a friend I had been trying to get together with forever and what a fun time I had! We chattered away sans the men in our lives, carrying on girls only type conversations and it was just perfect. Sometimes a girls night out with a really great person is just what you need. But anyway, I was wondering if it was my dinner, but I don't think so. Maybe it was the fact I was alone in my bed and I had nothing to curl into or the familiar hum of my husband sleeping next to me.
Anyway, sleep escaped me, but the puppy sure didn't. I need to explain weekends to her. They mean sleeping in not getting up at our usual 6:00 am. As sure as my weekday alarm, Artie was howling away in her crate calling for me. With one eye open I stumbled down the stairs to take the little girl on a walk. Then I made my coffee and the day was on...
I sat down at my computer to waste some time in the Social Media la la land of lost moments and it just hit me. The tears started welling up, I was missing my Beau. When it's quiet like that, and early morning, Beau comes to my heart so readily. He would walk up to me when I came downstairs during the week to get the girls breakfast together etc. and nudge me with that Boxer nose of his. He'd nudge and nudge, me being mockingly impatient with him saying, "Beau I need both of my hands to make breakfast, make coffee, type this email..." I'd pretend to be all exasperated and he'd keep up, those warm, brown eyes looking at me expectantly and he'd melt my resolve. Of course I would stop and scratch him, his little tail swirling in circles like a helicopter rotor. All the while I was chiding him for taking the time I should have been using for whatever task was at hand. I would wrap my arms around that big, old barrel chest of his and he'd lean into me *sniff*.....
~Insert big Boxer sigh here. My throat has that familiar hitch in it and my vision is all wavy. Oh, how I'd give my left arm for one more morning of wasting my time like that!~
Beau, today my heart is aching for you. Could it be I have been thinking about you since Heather found that picture yesterday of you on your first birthday? She handed me the picture with her head down and her bottom lip trembling. Then she held her arms out to me and snuggled into my hug for a bit until she felt better.
You will have left us 2 months ago here soon and yet my heart aches like I am leaving the Vet's office again. I remember trying so hard to keep my composure as I hovered over your now lifeless body. I hugged that barrel chest one last time before your warmth dissipated and I knew we had to walk to the car. The tears just streamed from my eyes in a never ending flow though. It was futile, I knew those tears wouldn't stop that day. I feel like that all over again. I cannot stanch them for some reason today.
Little Man, I miss you. "I'll keep you locked in my head until we meet again. And I won't forget you my friend.....Time makes it harder, my darling, who knew?"
Friday, February 17, 2012
Cookies are my kryptonite
I told Heather yesterday my head was swirling with thoughts, tons of them, and I needed to blog. I keep thinking about how I see my fellow triathletes all excited for their seasons and I'm really not. I am training so I don't get huge or soft, but I'm really not into racing this season as I have mentioned before. Been complaining about it long enough so I will stop. Also wondering what is out there for me. A forty something woman trying to find her passion again, not finding it and whining about it can only blog so far!
But still, I am looking for things I like, things I love. We nailed a few things, Brad and I did. So I will choose one to talk about today. I was actually going to write a whole blog about cookies. I love them. If I had to choose one food I could eat forever and never gain weight from it would be cookies. I like your traditionals like chocolate chip or oatmeal. Never mind Lays potato chips, it's cookies that I can't eat just one of. I like biscotti a bunch. I am a dunker by nature, so biscotti and coffee, well I'm all over that like the chicken and june bug thing. Oh how I do love me a nice, dense shortbread. The kind that positively melts in your mouth, or give me a lemon bar that makes my mouth start puckering just thinking about them. But dedicate a whole blog to cookies? Kind of silly really.
Food in general is something every one likes right? You'd be hard pressed to find anyone who'd say, Nah, I don't like food, I just eat because I HAVE to. Food is more than just sustenance, it is so many things when I think about it.
Food is a celebration! Think about the holidays, it's not like you have people over for Thanksgiving to stare at you. You have a feast. A spread worthy of royalty! I tell my girls it's an expression of love when I lay a spread out like that. I loved 50 plus people this year enough to cook for days getting ready to share the day with them. When I am cleaning squid with ink all over my hands for the Feast of the 7 Fish, it's not cause I am digging the Goth nail look. I am doing it because my grandmother did it when I was growing up and I loved going to Grandma and Grandpas on Christmas Eve! I want that for my kids too.
Food can be sensual *rawr*. And no not like a cucumber from that scene in Animal House. I'm talking that scene in 9 1/2 Weeks where Mickey Rourke has Kim Bassinger blindfolded and he's simply feeding her. It was swoon worthy. Hotter then hot and nothing more then a woman being fed by a man. Forget about the honey, that wasn't being fed, but that's a blog for another day lol!
I do love to cook. I believe cooking is my art and being able to eye a good recipe isn't something everyone can do. Brad teases me and calls me the MacGyver of the kitchen. Gimme a few basic things and I can blow something up hahaha, no seriously though. I can get fairly creative in the kitchen. I love the show Chopped. They should have the average Joe version of Chopped, I'd do pretty darned well if I do say so myself. But it is a way I express myself and once again to show people I like them. When I gave a box of my Ameretti and Italian Rainbow cookies to a friend of ours for Christmas he said to me, after he ate them, he would finance a bake shop if I would bake for him.
I have often thought about opening my own little mom and pop Italian restaurant. Or even just a little bake shop, but like I said to Ralph, then it would be working and I don't want something I love to turn into something I have to do. But still, there's that lurking in my head.
Epiphany moment. The training, the lack of motivation, not being excited to race. I just said it there in that sentence with Ralph in it. I don't want something I love to turn into something I have to do. There it is in plain view for me now. That is EXACTLY what happened with training for me last year. Instead of it being something I looked forward to, it was just sheer drudgery. I've been saying it, but it really hit home when I equated it with something I still love to do!
Now that I completely understand why I don't want to train what do I do to change how I feel? I believe that I need more introspection, I need a plan, I need to go cook! I need to make cookies out of my training!
How do I make swimming, biking and running into my Three Color Cookies?
But still, I am looking for things I like, things I love. We nailed a few things, Brad and I did. So I will choose one to talk about today. I was actually going to write a whole blog about cookies. I love them. If I had to choose one food I could eat forever and never gain weight from it would be cookies. I like your traditionals like chocolate chip or oatmeal. Never mind Lays potato chips, it's cookies that I can't eat just one of. I like biscotti a bunch. I am a dunker by nature, so biscotti and coffee, well I'm all over that like the chicken and june bug thing. Oh how I do love me a nice, dense shortbread. The kind that positively melts in your mouth, or give me a lemon bar that makes my mouth start puckering just thinking about them. But dedicate a whole blog to cookies? Kind of silly really.
Food in general is something every one likes right? You'd be hard pressed to find anyone who'd say, Nah, I don't like food, I just eat because I HAVE to. Food is more than just sustenance, it is so many things when I think about it.
Food is a celebration! Think about the holidays, it's not like you have people over for Thanksgiving to stare at you. You have a feast. A spread worthy of royalty! I tell my girls it's an expression of love when I lay a spread out like that. I loved 50 plus people this year enough to cook for days getting ready to share the day with them. When I am cleaning squid with ink all over my hands for the Feast of the 7 Fish, it's not cause I am digging the Goth nail look. I am doing it because my grandmother did it when I was growing up and I loved going to Grandma and Grandpas on Christmas Eve! I want that for my kids too.
Food can be sensual *rawr*. And no not like a cucumber from that scene in Animal House. I'm talking that scene in 9 1/2 Weeks where Mickey Rourke has Kim Bassinger blindfolded and he's simply feeding her. It was swoon worthy. Hotter then hot and nothing more then a woman being fed by a man. Forget about the honey, that wasn't being fed, but that's a blog for another day lol!
I do love to cook. I believe cooking is my art and being able to eye a good recipe isn't something everyone can do. Brad teases me and calls me the MacGyver of the kitchen. Gimme a few basic things and I can blow something up hahaha, no seriously though. I can get fairly creative in the kitchen. I love the show Chopped. They should have the average Joe version of Chopped, I'd do pretty darned well if I do say so myself. But it is a way I express myself and once again to show people I like them. When I gave a box of my Ameretti and Italian Rainbow cookies to a friend of ours for Christmas he said to me, after he ate them, he would finance a bake shop if I would bake for him.
Epiphany moment. The training, the lack of motivation, not being excited to race. I just said it there in that sentence with Ralph in it. I don't want something I love to turn into something I have to do. There it is in plain view for me now. That is EXACTLY what happened with training for me last year. Instead of it being something I looked forward to, it was just sheer drudgery. I've been saying it, but it really hit home when I equated it with something I still love to do!
Now that I completely understand why I don't want to train what do I do to change how I feel? I believe that I need more introspection, I need a plan, I need to go cook! I need to make cookies out of my training!
How do I make swimming, biking and running into my Three Color Cookies?
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love
No, I'm not referring to that old Peace Corp commercial, I am referring to mother hood. I've always wanted to have kids. It wasn't even a thing I needed to consider. One time in Kindergarten when they asked us all what we wanted to be you had the smattering of astronauts, princesses, teachers and you had my answer. I simply said, a mommy. Yeah, I aspired to other things as well, you know what it's like when you're little. You're going to be the best Doctor/Actress/Trapeze Artist/Belly Dancer there ever was. But in my heart, I wanted my own little ones and it would be a part of my future.
Fast forward almost 40 years. Here I am, a mommy 4 times over, you'd think my childhood dreams are met. And for the most part they are. But somewhere along the line Danielle Ann Tavernese got lost in the shuffle. I became someone that I am entirely unfamiliar with at times. I am Brad's wife, Bailey's mom, Katie's mom, Erin's mom or Heather's mom. I became a business owner whose primary job is to play with all things numbers. Those of you who know me know that I might rather get a Brazilian wax job every day as opposed to keeping books, yet here I sit about 9 years into this line of work still plugging along. Don't get me wrong, I am extremely appreciative of the flexibility I have with being able to work whenever, I don't know if I could go back into the corporate world again and work someone else's hours. It's hard to be grateful all of the time when you're doing something you truly weren't meant to do. There are certain aspects to owning the businesses we do that are loads of fun, so I tell myself to put my big girl panties on and just do what I have to do. So I do.
When I get all bothered by my life my husband, God Bless him, comes swooping in hoping to rescue me from my confusion. He's been programmed to be a fixer like all boys are, to try and take care of this for me. He wants me to find something I love to do. Yeah I do too, but what would that be? What are MY interests, I don't know anymore because I don't remember Danielle Ann Tavernese. I left her behind so long ago I don't remember what she likes. When I think hard, and Brad thinks along with me, he will pop up with something like Medicine! You always wanted to be a Doctor. For anyone who didn't know, that was really what I wanted to do with my life. I was the only kid on the block whose pen pal was Dr. Michael DeBakey, world renowned heart surgeon. I still have our letters. I realized it with a year left to go in college after going into a communications/broadcasting tract due to some work I did in TV in high school. I was smitten with TV production and my high school had a state of the art TV studio. It was cool expressing myself behind the camera. I even did in college, I was our college TV stations news director. But it didn't make me happy. I knew I wanted to get into the medical field somehow, but fate had other ideas for me. I met Brad, fell in love, trotted off to Chicago after graduation, got married shortly thereafter and worked in whatever line of work I could find while Brad brought home the bulk of our income.
After many moves and a couple of babies, before we found ourselves owning an ice rink, I found a way, sort of, to make the Dr. thing come to fruition. I got my transcripts, and went to orientation for Nursing school. As luck would have it a new Community College was built near our home because my BA in Communication with a minor in Italian would only get me so far with a nursing degree, I had some core courses to take care of there, then I was off to VCU! My ultimate goal was Midwifery after becoming an RN. I was going to bring babies into this world, the thought was so exciting.
Enter that blasted fate thing again. Brad found himself at an auction in NYC buying an Ice Rink. It was something so passionate for him, it was for the future of our ever expanding family, you'd think with me wanting to be a Midwife I'd know how these things happen lol, and I thought it was the best course for our family at the time. I didn't have time for school, a new business and three kids. So my enrollment was put off, for just a little while.
A little while *looks at her calendar* like 12 years later. I am still pondering the question, what makes me happy. I want to find something that defines me. No, triathlons don't, that's what my best friend from high school thought. I said to her, Nope, I like doing them, love training with my husband, have done some really awesome things, like the IM and the swim from Alcatraz. At the very least I will be an interesting grandma with some nifty stories to tell my grand kids, but nope, I wouldn't have chosen to do them if I were looking for something I like to do all by myself. Brad came up with the idea, I happily went along for this ride.
There are a few things I really do like to do when I have the time. I like rescuing stray animals, I like blogging and I still like medicine. I want to do one of them someday when I have the time to enjoy them. There's the rub, when I have the time....It is a precious commodity that I have very little of. I don't want the thing I love to do, the thing that is going to make me happy to be one more thing I have to schedule in my life. I don't need one more thing, you know?
So in the meantime, I keep looking and wondering when the time will come. Maybe I could be the best Blogger/Fostering/Dr. hopeful there ever was.
Fast forward almost 40 years. Here I am, a mommy 4 times over, you'd think my childhood dreams are met. And for the most part they are. But somewhere along the line Danielle Ann Tavernese got lost in the shuffle. I became someone that I am entirely unfamiliar with at times. I am Brad's wife, Bailey's mom, Katie's mom, Erin's mom or Heather's mom. I became a business owner whose primary job is to play with all things numbers. Those of you who know me know that I might rather get a Brazilian wax job every day as opposed to keeping books, yet here I sit about 9 years into this line of work still plugging along. Don't get me wrong, I am extremely appreciative of the flexibility I have with being able to work whenever, I don't know if I could go back into the corporate world again and work someone else's hours. It's hard to be grateful all of the time when you're doing something you truly weren't meant to do. There are certain aspects to owning the businesses we do that are loads of fun, so I tell myself to put my big girl panties on and just do what I have to do. So I do.
When I get all bothered by my life my husband, God Bless him, comes swooping in hoping to rescue me from my confusion. He's been programmed to be a fixer like all boys are, to try and take care of this for me. He wants me to find something I love to do. Yeah I do too, but what would that be? What are MY interests, I don't know anymore because I don't remember Danielle Ann Tavernese. I left her behind so long ago I don't remember what she likes. When I think hard, and Brad thinks along with me, he will pop up with something like Medicine! You always wanted to be a Doctor. For anyone who didn't know, that was really what I wanted to do with my life. I was the only kid on the block whose pen pal was Dr. Michael DeBakey, world renowned heart surgeon. I still have our letters. I realized it with a year left to go in college after going into a communications/broadcasting tract due to some work I did in TV in high school. I was smitten with TV production and my high school had a state of the art TV studio. It was cool expressing myself behind the camera. I even did in college, I was our college TV stations news director. But it didn't make me happy. I knew I wanted to get into the medical field somehow, but fate had other ideas for me. I met Brad, fell in love, trotted off to Chicago after graduation, got married shortly thereafter and worked in whatever line of work I could find while Brad brought home the bulk of our income.
After many moves and a couple of babies, before we found ourselves owning an ice rink, I found a way, sort of, to make the Dr. thing come to fruition. I got my transcripts, and went to orientation for Nursing school. As luck would have it a new Community College was built near our home because my BA in Communication with a minor in Italian would only get me so far with a nursing degree, I had some core courses to take care of there, then I was off to VCU! My ultimate goal was Midwifery after becoming an RN. I was going to bring babies into this world, the thought was so exciting.
Enter that blasted fate thing again. Brad found himself at an auction in NYC buying an Ice Rink. It was something so passionate for him, it was for the future of our ever expanding family, you'd think with me wanting to be a Midwife I'd know how these things happen lol, and I thought it was the best course for our family at the time. I didn't have time for school, a new business and three kids. So my enrollment was put off, for just a little while.
A little while *looks at her calendar* like 12 years later. I am still pondering the question, what makes me happy. I want to find something that defines me. No, triathlons don't, that's what my best friend from high school thought. I said to her, Nope, I like doing them, love training with my husband, have done some really awesome things, like the IM and the swim from Alcatraz. At the very least I will be an interesting grandma with some nifty stories to tell my grand kids, but nope, I wouldn't have chosen to do them if I were looking for something I like to do all by myself. Brad came up with the idea, I happily went along for this ride.
There are a few things I really do like to do when I have the time. I like rescuing stray animals, I like blogging and I still like medicine. I want to do one of them someday when I have the time to enjoy them. There's the rub, when I have the time....It is a precious commodity that I have very little of. I don't want the thing I love to do, the thing that is going to make me happy to be one more thing I have to schedule in my life. I don't need one more thing, you know?
So in the meantime, I keep looking and wondering when the time will come. Maybe I could be the best Blogger/Fostering/Dr. hopeful there ever was.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
May your glass be ever full.~Irish Proverb
People who eat at my house know I am Italian. My childhood memories of my Aunt Dollie and my grandmother cooking and feeding us come readily to mind. I can remember Friday nights going to one or the others apartment, my great grandfather housed all of his kids in these two gigantic apartment buildings in the Italian section of my hometown called the Orchard, and us moving between apartments eating. Anyway, I loved my Aunt Dollie's place in particular, she made food and feasts the likes of which I will never forget, and I learned to love to cook and subsequently eat during my younger years. I'll never forget making my first Pasta e fagioli for my Aunt Dollie. When she told me it was delicious, well anyway, I digress....
When you come here you will inevitably get something Italian to eat because I can do that kind of stuff in my sleep and I like Eye-talian food lol! But there is another side to my heritage that comes sneaking out from time to time. The Irish side. It rears it's lovely Gaelic head every now and again and I must satisfy my Irishness with some good Irish food and beer of course! Tonight was one of those nights. When Brad asked if I'd like to go to Sine for supper the Irish cailin was more then excited to get her needs met.
It was quiet when we got there around 6:30. They sat us at what I thought was a cute table, which turned out to be up several steps and had us situated squarely behind the bar. As the meal progressed, toward the end, you got the great smell of chlorine as glasses were being washed maybe? Love the smell of my white laundry being washed, don't want to smell it when I'm eating though.
It was a great night to people watch one of my absolute favorite pasttimes. The person who came in with the hat made of glo necklaces and the other guy who had on the Mexican sombrero that was just the right size for a chihuahua were entertaining to say the least.
Our waiter was rather scattered. It was like everything he did was an after thought. "would you like more water?" Well duh, what was your first clue, the fact my glass was empty? So he picked it up, put it down, picked it up again and then got me more water. Say what??? He was almost insulted when we asked for dessert. Weird fellow indeed.
We sat down and ordered a round of Murphy's Stout. I like Guinness, but I LOVE Murphy's. A friend of mine in England turned me on to Murphy's. Better on tap then out of a can, but both will do. The Murphy's came with a gorgeous, creamy head. The kind that gives you a big kid milk mustache when you take your first several sips. I watched as the creaminess slid ever so silkily down the side of my glass, looking like layers of stout torte to me. Not nearly as bitter as Guinness, mmmm, I actually had two pints of the stuff.
We ordered their pretzel and cheese appetizer. Brad has this thing for this sort of Ale house appetizer and I was happy to oblige his taste for it, usually it doesn't disappoint in other places we've ordered it. Sadly, this time it did for me. Two big "Super Pretzel" pretzels with enough salt that I secretly had planned on having an aneurysm as I tried to eat it with the salt (it got brushed off, it was just too much) and this bowl of cheese that looked like it was piping hot. Pretty, brown bubbly flecks dotted the top of the dish. Well it wasn't, those toasty brown spots might have been made earlier, but the cheese was far from hot and it was sort of disappointing. The only thing I really kept picking up were the big honking chunks of onions. If any of you know me, you know that is the one thing I cannot stand to eat. My mother in law marvels at how I can cook without onions and have everything so flavorful and tasty. I don't use them, the consistency, the taste, did I mention I hate onions more then I hate running? So that was disappointing. It was then my second pint was delivered, so really, it mattered little at that point.
I ordered the Short Ribs served with Mac and Cheese, Brad got what else, the Corned Beef and Cabbage. When my entree arrived, as the waiter was walking over with this monster sized bowl I thought, Good Lord how much food have I ordered? Well I got a pound of this macaroni covered in melted cheese and four small strips of short ribs cut from the bone. I looked at Brad's plate and saw a bunch of red potatoes, a piece of cabbage and two measly slices of corned beef. Hmmm, plenty of pasta and potatoes, but chitzing on the protein. It was a shame too because the short ribs were really pretty good. As I was eating the pasta I tried to figure out what the crunchy stuff in it was. Cheez-its! Yes, those square crackers. They cut the richness of the pasta as it was drowned in butter and something else I couldn't identify. The buttery pasta, the layer of Cheez-its, then the blanket, and I do mean blanket, of cheddar over top of it. I suppose if I were 8 or 9 this sort of cheesiness would appeal to me, but now it seemed like a cheap excuse for mac and cheese.
Brad wasn't thrilled with his corned beef because it was boiled. He said he likes mine better because I don't boil it necessarily. I do put water in as I bake the corned beef for hours on end, but I don't put the whole thing in a pot of boiling water to cook. Brad's plate of food wasn't nearly enough for him and I knew the richness of the pasta would ultimately bother my stomach, so I gave him my plate with the mac and cheese.
I figured since those four little strips of meat wouldn't be enough, I said let's get that Irish Car bomb cake they had. Perhaps that's all I should have gotten. The chocolate cake was dense, it sat in the middle of the plate with a scoop of vanilla ice cream surrounded by a sea of Jameson whiskey hard sauce. The sauce was my favorite part. Velvety on the palate, butterschotchy in taste, perfect with the cake. The ice cream like I said to Brad needed to be more like a Breyers vanilla bean vanilla ice cream. Something not as creamy as Vanilla they served, a little less sweet and over the top artificial tasting. It would have been perfect. The ice cream they served reminded me remotely of the kind you'd get in those little plastic cups that you ate with the wooden paddle spoons. It totally cheapened what would have been a perfect dessert.
The last time we had lunch at Sine, it made this Irish lass' heart sing with happiness. My Irish eyes definitely weren't smilin leaving this time....
When you come here you will inevitably get something Italian to eat because I can do that kind of stuff in my sleep and I like Eye-talian food lol! But there is another side to my heritage that comes sneaking out from time to time. The Irish side. It rears it's lovely Gaelic head every now and again and I must satisfy my Irishness with some good Irish food and beer of course! Tonight was one of those nights. When Brad asked if I'd like to go to Sine for supper the Irish cailin was more then excited to get her needs met.
It was quiet when we got there around 6:30. They sat us at what I thought was a cute table, which turned out to be up several steps and had us situated squarely behind the bar. As the meal progressed, toward the end, you got the great smell of chlorine as glasses were being washed maybe? Love the smell of my white laundry being washed, don't want to smell it when I'm eating though.
It was a great night to people watch one of my absolute favorite pasttimes. The person who came in with the hat made of glo necklaces and the other guy who had on the Mexican sombrero that was just the right size for a chihuahua were entertaining to say the least.
Our waiter was rather scattered. It was like everything he did was an after thought. "would you like more water?" Well duh, what was your first clue, the fact my glass was empty? So he picked it up, put it down, picked it up again and then got me more water. Say what??? He was almost insulted when we asked for dessert. Weird fellow indeed.
We sat down and ordered a round of Murphy's Stout. I like Guinness, but I LOVE Murphy's. A friend of mine in England turned me on to Murphy's. Better on tap then out of a can, but both will do. The Murphy's came with a gorgeous, creamy head. The kind that gives you a big kid milk mustache when you take your first several sips. I watched as the creaminess slid ever so silkily down the side of my glass, looking like layers of stout torte to me. Not nearly as bitter as Guinness, mmmm, I actually had two pints of the stuff.
We ordered their pretzel and cheese appetizer. Brad has this thing for this sort of Ale house appetizer and I was happy to oblige his taste for it, usually it doesn't disappoint in other places we've ordered it. Sadly, this time it did for me. Two big "Super Pretzel" pretzels with enough salt that I secretly had planned on having an aneurysm as I tried to eat it with the salt (it got brushed off, it was just too much) and this bowl of cheese that looked like it was piping hot. Pretty, brown bubbly flecks dotted the top of the dish. Well it wasn't, those toasty brown spots might have been made earlier, but the cheese was far from hot and it was sort of disappointing. The only thing I really kept picking up were the big honking chunks of onions. If any of you know me, you know that is the one thing I cannot stand to eat. My mother in law marvels at how I can cook without onions and have everything so flavorful and tasty. I don't use them, the consistency, the taste, did I mention I hate onions more then I hate running? So that was disappointing. It was then my second pint was delivered, so really, it mattered little at that point.
I ordered the Short Ribs served with Mac and Cheese, Brad got what else, the Corned Beef and Cabbage. When my entree arrived, as the waiter was walking over with this monster sized bowl I thought, Good Lord how much food have I ordered? Well I got a pound of this macaroni covered in melted cheese and four small strips of short ribs cut from the bone. I looked at Brad's plate and saw a bunch of red potatoes, a piece of cabbage and two measly slices of corned beef. Hmmm, plenty of pasta and potatoes, but chitzing on the protein. It was a shame too because the short ribs were really pretty good. As I was eating the pasta I tried to figure out what the crunchy stuff in it was. Cheez-its! Yes, those square crackers. They cut the richness of the pasta as it was drowned in butter and something else I couldn't identify. The buttery pasta, the layer of Cheez-its, then the blanket, and I do mean blanket, of cheddar over top of it. I suppose if I were 8 or 9 this sort of cheesiness would appeal to me, but now it seemed like a cheap excuse for mac and cheese.
Brad wasn't thrilled with his corned beef because it was boiled. He said he likes mine better because I don't boil it necessarily. I do put water in as I bake the corned beef for hours on end, but I don't put the whole thing in a pot of boiling water to cook. Brad's plate of food wasn't nearly enough for him and I knew the richness of the pasta would ultimately bother my stomach, so I gave him my plate with the mac and cheese.
I figured since those four little strips of meat wouldn't be enough, I said let's get that Irish Car bomb cake they had. Perhaps that's all I should have gotten. The chocolate cake was dense, it sat in the middle of the plate with a scoop of vanilla ice cream surrounded by a sea of Jameson whiskey hard sauce. The sauce was my favorite part. Velvety on the palate, butterschotchy in taste, perfect with the cake. The ice cream like I said to Brad needed to be more like a Breyers vanilla bean vanilla ice cream. Something not as creamy as Vanilla they served, a little less sweet and over the top artificial tasting. It would have been perfect. The ice cream they served reminded me remotely of the kind you'd get in those little plastic cups that you ate with the wooden paddle spoons. It totally cheapened what would have been a perfect dessert.
The last time we had lunch at Sine, it made this Irish lass' heart sing with happiness. My Irish eyes definitely weren't smilin leaving this time....
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Day Four for those of you keeping score
Yep, day four of actually training. What the heck has gotten into me? But I had to write a quick blog that I actually worked out now four days running. It's funny really. Not funny like a clown, but ironic like, before it was surprising if I missed a day. Now I'm surprised if I make it a day. I keep saying I am burnt from last year and all of the training I did. I'm not so sure if it's the training so much as the fact it became one more thing in my life. And my life was beyond stressful on several fronts last year. I think running, cycling and swimming were the glue that held what few pieces of my brain I had left together. But in the same breath, they were one more thing that had to be done. I get a little sad when I think of things that occurred, and think of my training, and think of how some days I wanted to sit in a corner and scream at my life to stop. Just a pause button, just for a little while, please God, stop this ride, I wanted to get off. I survived, probably partially due to all of the training I did. When I physically hurt, it too my mind off of anything else. I still don't really like thinking much about every thing though. It definitely detracted from the whole IM experience in hindsight.
Today I swam for the second time since IMFL. Yes, got my squishy tush into a bathing suit and hit the water. I was rather disappointed. I thought surely all of that time logged in the pool previously would equate to at least muscle memory. It would appear my muscles have amnesia. What's with crossing over with my stroke? What was with my arms instead of my lats hurting after I got out? What happened to my catch? I mean really, I was in the pool so much before the Richmond Times Dispatch posted a front page article "Big Pink Raisin Found in American Family Pool, Whereabouts of Danielle Robinson Unknown...." Today I felt like I should have been in the kiddie pool with floaties.
Anyway, I need to keep up with my training I guess. In my mind I thought surely with the crazy amount of time I spent training that fitness would stay with me, but nooooooooo. What makes me nervous is I am not dying to get back to it. I see the rest of my tri friends all excited about their upcoming seasons. Me not so much. I am planning on next to no races, I just don't have the desire. My other friends are posting on FB, "I signed up for blah, blah, blah" and you have 20 other spandex crazies responding "Me too!" I look and think Meh....
Somewhere along the line I think my training drive got broke like my oven lol. I know I can call Appliance Dr. to fix the oven. I wonder if he can change my heating element and get me to warm up to training and racing again.....
Today I swam for the second time since IMFL. Yes, got my squishy tush into a bathing suit and hit the water. I was rather disappointed. I thought surely all of that time logged in the pool previously would equate to at least muscle memory. It would appear my muscles have amnesia. What's with crossing over with my stroke? What was with my arms instead of my lats hurting after I got out? What happened to my catch? I mean really, I was in the pool so much before the Richmond Times Dispatch posted a front page article "Big Pink Raisin Found in American Family Pool, Whereabouts of Danielle Robinson Unknown...." Today I felt like I should have been in the kiddie pool with floaties.
Anyway, I need to keep up with my training I guess. In my mind I thought surely with the crazy amount of time I spent training that fitness would stay with me, but nooooooooo. What makes me nervous is I am not dying to get back to it. I see the rest of my tri friends all excited about their upcoming seasons. Me not so much. I am planning on next to no races, I just don't have the desire. My other friends are posting on FB, "I signed up for blah, blah, blah" and you have 20 other spandex crazies responding "Me too!" I look and think Meh....
Somewhere along the line I think my training drive got broke like my oven lol. I know I can call Appliance Dr. to fix the oven. I wonder if he can change my heating element and get me to warm up to training and racing again.....
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