Rumors of my disappearance...

...have been greatly exaggerated.

What? You didn't realize that I was gone?

No, I was not stuck on the teacup ride at the boardwalk nor was I held at watershooting flowerpoint by a deranged clown or The Insane Clown Posse.

I was, however, and not necessarily in order of importance or occurrence - at the beach; collecting seashells; eating pancakes; buying walking sticks as art; eating fish and chips; drinking a latte; walking; chasing my kids; swimming in the pool; laughing; getting sunburned; crying; claiming a package containing "The Thing" from the 112 Police Precinct after it had been stolen from my front porch and used as a ruse to gain entrance to another home in order to burgle it; helping my daughter finish her summer homework; going to an art exhibit; buying school clothes/supplies; trying to put the house in order and realizing Sysophus was actually a slacker; thinking about writing a story about a cemetery groundskeeper who kept a continuous chess game going as he worked; having a latte; reading about hipsters and finding out that "berries" is the new term for benjamins/cash/clams/shekels/; daydreaming; fantasizing; riding waves; dining under the full moon looking at the ocean; playing "tag you're it" with Julian; being accused of having too much fun with Julian by Tali; making it a little joke whenever Tali would accuse me by saying "what's that? I'm busy having fun with Julian right now." Having a latte.

Taking pictures of some people that I love - well one in particular:


and two more in particular (warning: shark attack in progress:






Catch of the Day



Dropping my camera into the water. Digital Dementia. Having a latte. Basically trying to get back to a more accelerated pace to gear me up to go back to work and re-enter society. Wahhhh. Oh and missing you all.

Did you get my postcard?

Weather is here - wish you were beautiful.

XOX

PS: I have been alternately snooping about but not commenting much. I will catch up. I also see absence indeed makes the heart grow fonder as two bloggers that I am terribly fond of, Shari and Weirsdo have bestowed some lovely awards upon me. Thank you both so much. Don't think I won't make a whole post about them. You both made my day.

GIMME A BREAK

Well, okay.

And just like that - I will be on vacation until sometime after Labor Day (the American holiday that signifies the end of summer). Tomorrow is my last day of work!

On Thursday, I will take the kids to one of the towns on the Jersey Shore to give them a slice of Mommy history. Actually, I always felt cheated that we went to beaches without boardwalks when I was younger. The one we will visit has a boardwalk and the kids can get the flavor of a day at the beach mixed with pizza, cotton candy and games of chance. Oh and throw in an amusement ride or two.

I think I'm more excited than them! It will be just a day trip. The beach is quite nice there, but it's the kitsch factor that is really drawing me to visit.

We'll then head out for our annual end of summer pilgrimage to Montauk which is fast becoming a fine family tradition a couple of days later.

I'll probably be on a blog-light schedule but I will try to get around and catch up with my faves who I've missed a bit of late.

I did visit my Mom this past weekend at my brother's house. She is recuperating quite well. I did talk her out of invading Iran. Her face has healed amazingly well and her arm is coming along nicely. I was teasing her that I was going to take a picture for my blog. "You're not putting me on your blog!" Sorry Mom, too late for that. But alright, no incriminating pictures.

Enjoy the rest of your summer.

Telephone

You know getting information funneled down in a large family can sometimes prove to be very much like a game of telephone.

But firstly - thank you all for your caring words regarding my Mom. She is in the hospital and so far nothing specific is showing up in the tests (MRI/catSCAN, etc.). She is having a stress test tomorrow and all things being equal (to what, I'm not sure), she'll be going home by Thursday. She has a hairline fracture in her forearm and of course, contusions on her face and near her eye. Answers as to why this happened may not be evident.

The truth is - this is one tough woman. When she blacked out, she fell down with the impact of a boxer being knocked out and got herself up. My brother and I joked that raising ten children can do that to you. She actually never went to the hospital at that juncture because apparently in Anytown USA, volunteer ambulance corps come and check you out and leave that option up to the patient. The patient in this case is 82 and has just passed out and looks like she has gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. My mother being stubborn as she is, called her sister to take her home instead. My sister was then called who took my mom to the hospital where she is undergoing the various tests.

By the time this information gets to me (#7) in the hyperbolic family game of telephone, she has jumped from an airlifted ambulance as she refused treatment, taking a doctor hostage in the process. Still home for a cup of tea though.

My family has a slightly warped sense of humor, but thankfully my mother can still appreciate our odd takes on life such as they are.

It's hard living far away (and having small children) as I can't just drop and run. But I will see her this weekend and she will be staying at my brother and SIL's house as she recuperates.

So thanks for your good wishes. I'll keep you posted when she invades Iran.

On parents aging and such...

I sit here alternately staring at the screen and then hopping links to other blogs. I have been so erratic about posting of late - both in timing and topic. I think back and recall there were a few pretty good posts - just about life, some pretty funny as I remember them, some not so funny.

I wasn't going to blog about this because sometimes Reality Avoidance Therapy works best for me. I'll deal with it, but in my own quiet terms. The topic today - Parents Aging.

As some of you know, I come from a large Irish Catholic family before I jumped ship to Judaism about 12 years ago. I am the seventh of ten children. My father passed away in 1989 and my mother has since lived on her own more or less (wayward sons and divorces disturbing the relative calm of what's on sale at Shop Rite).

Tonight my sister R called to tell me that my Mom had a "spell" in church this morning and went outside whereby she must have blacked out and fallen. A priest came to her aid and she was taken to a hospital whereby they treated her physical wounds and released her! Her face is badly cut and bruised and swollen which just makes me cry. This is a woman who has barely a wrinkle thanks to good genes and Oil of Olay applied religiously. That just makes me cry - her soft skin being bruised up in such a violent way.

Anyway, the big guns were called in (which is my sister Susan) and she came over and brought my mom to a hospital proper where she is indeed being held overnight for observation and some tests (CAT scans, etc) will be performed.

My mother does not live right around the corner so I cannot just hop into the car and run to the hospital. I will go tomorrow or Tuesday based upon what we find out tomorrow. I feel sad for my Mom as I see the signs of aging taking their toll. Her hearing has gotten worse and for various reasons, she has refused a hearing aide. She probably should not still be driving but she said only half jokingly when I mentioned something to her a year or so ago "they'll never take me alive!" This, as we imagined a scenario of her home being surrounded by police requesting her license over a bullhorn, which she wouldn't hear as she turned the television ever louder behind the barricaded front door.

I look forward to her quick healing and me being able to joke with her that I told her no good can come of her hanging out in church so often. We'll have a good laugh of which she'll only hear half. And we'll have a cup of tea.

Just like old times.

Absence of Malace

The last thing I remember hearing, in addition to the flight departures in the background, was "$6 please. That's $6 m'am." I must have extended my hand and paid as the yellow gate bounced up and I drove through. But what happened next was unbelievable yet expected - my car slowly but surely made the steady climb skyward as Tali waved to the people on the Airtrain.

It all seemed so matter of fact. We'd wished for such a vehicle on many an occassion when 20 extra minutes would have been welcomed, but this was really happening. We landed in time to watch some reruns of The Simpsons that Tali has been taping. Yes that's how I used my time that was given me - like magic! We zipped through the commercials and then I didn't feel too well.

So it seems my squandering of the gift of time made my stomach turn sour and for the past two days I've stayed home from work. Although I wasn't DEATHLY ill - a sick instance is a sick instance as I always joked with my mother (and did today as a matter of fact). One day - phoney; three days - doctor's note; two days - just riiight.

Today was the best because I just decided to actually rest a bit as I had caught a glimpse of myself and I didn't look well quite frankly - dark circles under eyes/skin pale. I took an extra glimpse in the mirror to see how I could recreate this look for the office tomorrow. I clicked on the television and caught the last hour of High Anxiety which warmed me right up into 70's mode for Paul Newman in Slap Shot which was next. Can a day get wasted any better? Jaws wasn't on. I taped One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest for future viewing. Urged onward (or backward as the case may be), I downloaded some 70's radio gems from iTunes - Magnet and Steel (not the original version which has me pissed), Right Back Where We Started From, and Car Wash. Come on now - line dance!

I think I have sort of been coming down with this mystery malady and have felt even more underwhelmed of late. Pardon me if I haven't made my way about for a visit - nobody likes entertaining somebody who looks like the Corpse Bride. Well maybe you do.
I'll be around soon so don't forget me and leave a light on - never mind, I've got one on my head.

Stay tuned for answers to the hotly burning issues raised by my crafty post last week (this means you FirstNations)! Glue guns - hot or not? I was going to put some links up here, but I have these shows taped and I uh - what part about feeling blah don't you understand?!

Good night loves - actually I think I'll go read myself to sleep.


"I don't know what it is - I've gotta give in.
High Anxiety - xiety - You wiiin!"

That was some party!

Diesel's book release party that is. Time to get on with life here at Simply Said. You did go buy his book, right?

It's hard to keep up with blogging. Life takes over and sometimes lack of motivation trumps all. Not that I'm not motivated - just not with the written word. My zodiac symbol is a crab and sometimes I like to withdraw into my shell and so I do things like this:










or this:
I am so inspired by beauty in the form of art and interiors (and exteriors) and design. I get a couple/three (love that old saying) magazines along those lines. I have been pulling out sheets in which something catches my eye. In reading some of the design blogs on my blogroll, one or two in particular talk about creating your own "Inspiration Books" and so I started my own. It's crazy, but I spent a good part of the afternoon hours Saturday doing this as Tali designed something with her "Ello" toys nearby. Julian was at Grandma's and Scissors ~ where the heck was he? Hmmmm. Anyway, I find it soothing beyond belief.

So that's my idea of fun. What's yours?

I love this little picture showing Julian's chivalrous side as he insisted on carrying Tali's book for her into violin class this evening. Did I mention we had Julian with us because Scissor's car broke down and I had to swoop down, rescue Julian, toss Scissors my charged cell phone for him to call a tow and off to pick up Tali from camp to deliver her to violin. All done in time somehow.


Good night Irene!

ANTISOCIAL COMMENTARY RELEASE PARTY!!!

TODAY'S THE DAY!

I've called you here for an important dispatch. One so important that I thought a PressConference necessary.

You've been waiting for it without even knowing what you've been waiting for.

Diesel of Mattress Police and founder of Humor-blogs.com is publishing a book! A funny book. A witty book. A well written book. If I seem rehearsed, I'm just trying to remember what he told us to say about it. Yes, of course he told us what to say - the guy is a control freak. He has allowed for our varying levels of endorsement of his witty tomb and has even gone so far as to recommend possible posts:

"Diesel, the twisted genius behind the humor blog, MattressPolice.com, has announced the publication date for his first book! Antisocial Commentary: From the Secret Files of the Mattress Police, is a hilarious excursion through the mind of Diesel"
Twisted genius - I'll say. Who else but a twisted genius makes a tree house for his kids with a front door that opens to a 20 foot drop? Twisted genius indeed.

"You may be wondering how in hell a hack like “Diesel” gets published. Simple. The same way every other hack gets published these days: He self-published the book through Lulu.com. You know, the place that ranks just below Kinko’s as a reputable publisher?" Why the thought did cross my mind, but it all makes perfect sense now.

Okay, all of the above is meaningless, here's what's important:

BOOK TITLE: Antisocial Commentary: From the Secret Files of the Mattress Police.

WHAT IT'S ABOUT: compilation of some of his best posts, plus some original material.

The book is going to be published on 8/15, but he'll start taking “pre-orders” at MATTRESS.POLICE.COM today, 7/26. It will retail for $11.95 + S&H, but you'll be able to pre-order a signed copy for $9.95 with free shipping.

Mostly you should buy it to help pay for the mounting medical bills associated with casting his poor kid's arm from falling out of the aforementioned treehouse.

No really - you should buy it for the same reasons I plan to:

- Help support a fellow blogger bud.
- The guy really is funny and writes well.
- You can use it to even out a lopsided table (his suggestion).
- It's a summer read - you won't even have to think while you read it. Actually that's not true, but if I know Diesel, he'll be happy to do that for you too.
- Two lattes would set you back ten bucks. Diesel is like a jolt of caffeine on a quiet day, so you won't even need to drink coffee as you read his book.


Okay, the real truth is that Diesel did not pay us to do these posts, he doesn't have to. He's a mensch, and makes you want to support his efforts. His success would be our success as we'd be that happy for him. The best is that he is most certainly not a hack - he writes well, with humor, sarcasm and wit - all from his own funny (albeit twisted) view of life.

So head on over and read up more at his place. Go on, nothing to see here folks. Move along.

A Tale of Summer Boredom

Three Dog Night's "Joy to the World" played on the little transistor radio on Marnie's blanket in the yard where she sat out under the tree, painting her toenails and wondering about summer friendships. Marnie always felt that somehow her summers never quite amounted to much. The truth is in this small town, whose did? But that was Marnie's problem, she dreamed of being away from this small town, if only for a week, a month - imagine for a whole summer!

She read books in which children went to camp, learned how to ride horses, solved mysteries, even kissed boys (that she could do in this crummy town, she thought somewhat repulsively). At thirteen, she knew of girls who did just that, they were fast becoming pretty popular. Not Marnie, she was somewhere stuck between tomboy and wanting to feel a bit more girly - not too much though. Toenail polish was as far as she ventured. She found those kind of girls to be just stupid.

Sure her parents took her and her three brothers to their uncle's little cabin near Lake Silverfoot for a long weekend each summer. Once they'd even gone for a whole week! But it just smelled moldy and made Marnie feel a bit sad, even though she had fun playing in the lake with her brothers. She even made a friend or two to play with. Once there was a boy named Claude who she was playing with and remembered saying that her favorite color was brown because his was. That was two summers ago. Oh how her brothers had made fun of her for that one, she still remembered.

She continued to paint her toenails as Jobie peeked through a space between fence planks. She ignored him as she mostly did when she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. "Wanna go bike riding Marnie?"

"Not now Jobie. Maybe later" she answered without looking up, humming along to the radio.

"Roller skate?"

"I'm waiting for the 4:30 Movie to start - it's Gidget week. Maybe after supper." Marnie offered.

Jobie gladly accepted "I'll call for you later Marnie!" and with that ran to go find some of the boys to scare up a game of wiffle ball. He didn't have far to go to succeed.

Another summer of Jobie and bike riding over the bridge passed the commercial waterfront along the river and back. Could be worse, Marnie tried to convince herself unsuccessfully.

She went inside and put on Channel 7 just in time for the music to kick up and Gidget Goes Hawaiian to roll.

"Someday, I'm going to surf there" thought Marnie as she settled into her favorite movie viewing perch with her legs hanging over the overstuffed armchair. Never mind that she had barely tipped her toes in an ocean. Marnie's dreams were already intertwined with the movie.

She smiled inwardly as MoonDoggie and Gidget did the Twist on the beach.

Dis Organization Part II

Another area where it can become frustrating trying to fit the "yes I am a together and organized person" profile is navigating the password Yellow Brick Road to gain entrance to the paperless Emerald City that awaits us online.

I only have about ten such for different applications at work. I've tried to start keeping everything the same, but it doesn't always work out that way as there are also different log-in names. For instance, first initial/last name; last name/first initial; caps/no caps; space/nospace; must have 2 numbers, 1 character and one animal reference. That's not including personal life passwords for various bill paying, blogging, flickr, etc.

Today I attempted to log in to one such place. Sorry, this does not match. Okay try another combo - nope. Shall we ask your secret question? Sure.

Place where you met your husband? Simple - NY Rangers hockey game. Wrong.

Okay, more general - NYC. Nope.

Madison Square Garden! Nope.

The backseat of a car? Hah, just kidding.

I am sorry to report that as a result of this run-in, I now have no idea where I met my husband, although he seems convinced of the above so now I'm not sure if he is, in fact, my husband.

Then to add insult to injury, when they finally degrade you enough by the smarmy "Forgot your password? Just enter your email" No record. I just know there is a tech person sitting back popping nachos into his mouth saying "What's up, you again? Write it down, biatch!" The truth is that I truly have a great memory, but it seems to fail me with so many options out there. I mean if I only log in sporadically, the chances of log-in success dwindle accordingly.

Once you try to gain the next rung of the recoup the password ladder, the inevitable, "Enter code letters as they appear below" subdues you into thinking your sign-on is imminent. Imminent if you had dropped acid and are looking through a funhouse mirror as that is the mental state you'd need to be in to decipher the code. The DaVinci Code may have been easier to solve (actually that whole book was one predictable pile of..., but I digress). The caps are actually small, the small are numbers and the numbers are that reference to an animal that I mentioned earlier.

I know we are supposed to be moving towards a paperless society but until such time that we just place our eye up to the screen and gain access, I will be a slave to the password scrawled on paper somewhere. And it will get changed and it won't be written down...you follow.

Now can somebody please tell me where I met my husband?

A Ball of Twine

That's sort of how I've been feeling of late - a big ball of twine. A ball of twine which has a giant cat batting me around, in fact.

The balled up feeling is my emotions which can, you know, get the better of me at times. Although you'd never know it from the outside (unless you live with me of course). The good news is that I was home today and got to catch up on some much needed paper sorting/pocketbook cleaning (where does it all come from, I ask!) and generally trying to get my house in order. Considering the cleaning woman was here yesterday, shouldn't be too hard, right?

Ah, the cleaning woman, yes. The one who left a note addressed to my husband (as he basically works from home and is there to let her in) "Scissors, la puerta es mal." Well yes, if you consider coming unhinged mal, then yes indeed it was. She of the slippery fingers cleaning school. Not slippery as in stealing - G-d forbid, but breaking which may or may not be worse. But really, if I don't have (and have often been without) a cleaning person, life gets really out of whack! As although Scissors works from home and handles cooking - cleaning is an elusive sort of category to him. He's not a slob, but then again, he's not exactly neat.

The truth is that I am a bit of a dichotomy. I am a neat person and like everything to be in place and my home to be comfortable, yet I'm disorganized and still working on the perfect filing system and thus spend time that I could be...well, blogging, looking for a certain paper. It's maddening to say the least. The truth is that I hired a professional organizer several years back who started me off. She was also a decorator and so we got into painting and decorating and well, I did get rid of a lot. But once I'm off the beaten path, it's hard getting back on. And we never got back to my filing system! Damn her (or really me for never picking back up where we left off).

All this is to say, time to get away for the weekend and just unwind (that ball of twine again).

Hope you all have a good weekend and the sun shines upon you wherever you are.

ANALYSIS = PARALYSIS

Women in Art

You know, I just thought it would be fun to pass along some of the inspiration that comes to my eye on any given day. I'm a giver. So take a look:



I found the inpiration while being inspired at Creative Swoon.

Enjoy!

Rabbit Rabbit

RABBIT RABBIT AND GOOD LUCK IN JULY!



I was just thinking that it couldn't hurt to kick off my birthday month with a little luck!



Above print from an art site called LITTLE PAPER PLANES

If I said you had a beautiful blog...

...would you hold it against me?


That's just me being plain silly (the damn P key is stuck on my laptop now so it takes about three strikes to get it). I haven't been _osting much lately and it's not so much that I have nothing to say (one might argue blogging is one big "nothing to say" fest) but lack the time in which to say it. Perhaps motivation has been fairly used up by the evening when the opportunity might just present itself. That's of course, discounting the days when I fall asleep mid-story on one child or another's bed.

Today was the first day of camp. I drove Tali and Julian and Scissors met us there as I continued on to work from there. This morning as we were all in various stages of dress and readiness, Julian was walking around in his underwear and swim goggles. He seemed rather pleased with himself but then came to me and said "the kids are going to make fun of me."

I said "Of course they're not, you're friendly, I'm sure you'll make lots of new friends." I gave him a big hug and he quickly forgot that train of thought. Fast forward to Julian's introduction to the new small group and the little boy who shall hereinafter be referred to as "Pipsqueak" saying "Julian, that's a girl's name!" Julian first bellied up to the offender and said "It is not!" and turned to me and said "see, I told you they were going to make fun of me." This funk lasted for all of two minutes before they were gathering to leave and Scissors met him at his first activity in which he was having a wonderful time.

Of course, it stayed with me the whole day. How would Julian do? Would he be able to manage the changes throughout the day? Would he eat his lunch? Would he go to the bathroom under a new schedule? Would someone be watching him at the pool? Would the thunderstorms hit and he be scared? Would he cry as easily as I might if I gave into it? The answer to all of above were just as you'd expect.

He did fine and I held back the tears...until now.

5 Meme

I'm in a genuine slump. I'm averaging one post per week (well not counting my Saturday Spins). Forget about making it around to my favorite places. That's the down side. The up side is that today is the first day of summer and hope springs eternal. Living is just a little easier (or so the song goes).

During one of my visits to a favorite place in the blogs, Stuffed Animal Planet (the former ex-Pansi Files which was f/k/a the Pansi Files), I noticed that I had been tagged for this 5 Meme that's going around not unlike the bedbug plague that I understand is taking Manhattan - ewwwwww. Perhaps Mrs. Weirsdo felt guilty as I was not nominated by her as a blog that made her think. However, she does not seem to be a person motivated by guilt so I think that shoots a hole in that theory. As I recall the instructions were to remove the top blog and place yours (meaning mine) at the bottom. Would the idea be to visit some new spots? I guess that would be an objective. In turn, I should tag five people which well, I'm just not a tagger. But if you would like to do this and let me know that you have, I'd even maybe mail you a tchotchke. Time to clean out some things anyway.

1) Bipolar Notes From Underground (off meds)
2) This Side Of Reason
3) Full Moon Rising
4) Stuffed Animal Tales
5) Simply Said

Next: select five people to tag. Oops, covered that above. I basically cut and pasted from Weirsdo's post. "Be sure to try and make them feel really guilty if they don't want to play!" That last part was Mrs. Weirsdo's. Come on all you people that I haven't tagged but YOU know who you are! I said that I'd send you a tchotchke.

What were you doing ten years ago?

Let's see - ten years ago I was busy being pregnant with my daughter Tali and hiking in some gorge in Vermont with Scissors. No I was not barefoot. Well not as we hiked anyway. I recall we stayed at the lovely Quiche Bed & Breakfast in Vermont whereby they advised upon checkout that they'd be happy to have us back - alone or when our child was 12. Having Julian, I understand their request.

I was still a desk jockey with the same company/different location. Somehow the group I worked with just made it all the more bearable...or the complaining eventually became a harmonious chorus. We even had a sit-in for one of our coworkers who was going to be transferred (not of his own volition) whereby we sang "all we are saying is give Steve a chance." Proud to say I orchestrated that one. Steve was transferred just the same.


What were you doing one year ago?

Did a year pass by already? I'm sitting in the same spot - maybe I've been sleeping or blogging. Pass that bong. Just kidding! I did just start my blog a little over one year ago. I was crying at Julian's graduation from his preschool. I think I might have been having lunch and meeting my NBFF for the very first time. Ah, a heady year it's been.


Five snacks you enjoy:

1) My mother-in-law's honey cake with a cup of green tea
2) chocolate anything
3) Twizzlers or the even lower rent - NIBS
3) a scoop of ice cream (was that my subconscious - I gave myself two 3's)
5)(no sneaking in an extra). Only because I thought of these for some odd reason on my drive home tonight and have not had one in a good 30 years - Hostess Butterscotch Krimpets. Ooh the memory of its pre-fab goodness has me smiling.


Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:

Sitting here, I can barely think of one, yet start any song on the radio and I pretty much can sing along. Does that count? I've been mulling this meme and in the shower this am, I sang:

1) Don't Leave Me Hanging on the Telephone by Blondie (Parallel Lines is one great album - note to self: dig that out)
2) then driving in my car with no radio on, I sang - Sam Stone by John Prine to see if I knew all the lyrics. I did.
3) Thunder Road by Bruce Springsteen (I was singing along with the radio and of course, the windows were down and the volume was up).
4) Cecilia by Simon & Garfunkel (my little theatre troupe consisting of myself, my sister Roni and our 4 neighborhood girlfriends performed this one when we put on a variety show in The O'Neill's backyard. We couldn't have been even ten years old. If memory serves me well, I believe the crowd grew hostile and demands were made for refunds. We tried to mollify them by throwing boxes of Good and Plenty candy into the crowd (I know that jingle by heart..."Once upon a time there was an engineer...").
5) This is your spot - leave a song in the comments and let's see if you can stump me.

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
"What's all this subjunctive "were" business? I plan to be a millionaire one day!" Could not agree more Weirsdo, although aside from playing Lotto once a year, I'm not sure what I am doing to advance the cause.

Just the same, a girl can dream:

1) hand in el resignation!!! and begin to really explore what makes me happy.
2) fix up the house (or sell it)
2) travel
3) Help family out and support favorite charities (this could of course be seen as the same thing - I'll speak to my accountant).
4) make sure kids are in proper schools/programs/doing something they love
5) Get Scissors season soccer tickets...at Wembley Stadium!

Look at that in proofing I see I've snuck in another #2. Ah well, I'm a millionaire now, I can do that.

Five bad habits:

1) laziness
2) procrastination
3) fidgeting
4) staying up late
5) losing my temper (I should have put that first, but I was procrastinating.)

This could be my list - it's Mrs. Weirsdo's. I cut and pasted to make answering easier. Although for #1, I wouldn't say lazy but perhaps, motivationally challenged. #3 - I'm not a fidgeter, in fact you could replace fidget with sloth. #5 - thanks to the wonderful world of meds - I'm no longer a temper loser. So I'll see Weirsdo's #5 and throw in - using curse words or cussing or swearing or whatever you would like to call it. Not a lot, but it could be construed as a habit. This could also be construed as losing one's temper I realize. Note to self: speak to doctor about meds.

Five things you like doing:

1) reading
2) hanging out with my kids/especially family day Sundays
3) appreciating pretty things/design/collecting pictures of same as inspiration, for instance:

















4) blogging/writing (had to combine the two) It seems I write so little of late. I'll try to do better - for myself at least.
5) trolling through flea markets, craft fairs, art shows.

So that's the meme as I recall it. Please do one and let me know when you have. Remember those tchotchkes! And remember to come visit me in Central Snark over the weekend where we let the music spin.

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend all! And if you're in NYC, drop by The World Financial Center and look for a gaggle of bloggers dining by the waterside. Take my advice - keep walking.

The White Shirt...and Chest Pains

On my way home the other evening, I decided to take a little shopping detour. Scissors called me to say, "I'm not feeling that well".

"I'll come home then." I said only half irritated as I thought "some people will do anything to stop me from shopping."

"No just don't be long."

"Okay then - be home soon."

As I fumbled the cotton of the white shirts (because you can never have too many white shirts and I seem to not have any) in Banana Republic, my cell phone rings. "I'm having a chest pain." Scissors tells me.

"A chest pain!" fumble fabric, "I'm coming home now." May G-d forgive me that I had the presence of mind to make a couple of mental notes for future reference on my way out the door.

I rush home in the car and swing the household into Battle Station Butterfly Emergency Mode. First call Scissors' doctor's office who says that I need to take him to the hospital ER. We're all pretty level headed for an emergency except for Scissors who insists that I shouldn't call the doctor, he'll be fine. Tell him to get dressed. Tali instructs me to go into the other room when I call Grandma so as not to get Julian upset. Julian hears me mentioning the doctor and comes in to tell me "I hate to see Daddy in pain." Sweet child. I assure him Daddy's okay but we have to take him to make sure everything is alright. We drop the kids at Grandma's and head on the road but not before Grandma asks if I've eaten.

We get to the hospital and the emergency room is pretty full but not terrible. Finally Scissors gets called in and has blood drawn and an EKG done. The EKG is normal and we have to wait for the bloodwork. He's wheeled to the back and wait we do. His pain is not strong and is more of a dull ache at this point, yet he rates it a 6 when the nurse asks. I tell him that's why women have babies because he most certainly is overstating his pain index.

Besides the poor old people who have been given a break from their nursing home setting to have a little vacation in the hospital, you have your various and sundry ER characters. First up - the patient released from the hospital after surgery, in for more pain killers yelling "Nurse! Doctor! Nurse!! Nobody gives a F*&$!". Next we have the dapper drunk who we first thought was a doctor until he fell into Patient Number One's bed. Apparently he has missed a flight to LA having gotten tanked in the airport and instead will wake up in a Queens ER. He is being pumped with coffee and accusing everyone of taking something that he has most certainly lost (or been alleviated of) in his drunken stupor. We then have a man of I'd say Afghani decent perhaps who is becoming hysterical because his brother went out to get something to eat. When the brother returns he begs of the doctor to take good care of his brother. The doctor asks if they have insurance. That seemed a bit callous to me. The answer, in short, was no. The doctor said he'd be back. Um hmmm.

Scissors and I were taking this all in from his bed - him lying down, me sitting on the end - as if it were a new comedy series. We needed to pass the time somehow. Long story short, he was not having or did not have a heart attack, but still not sure what caused the pain.

I went out to call home and let Grandma and the kids know that Daddy's okay just being held for tests. I go back in and drop in the Bathroom. As I am in the stall the phone rings and Tali is calling asking if we're coming home soon. I walk out of stall to wash hands and tell her we'll be home soon when a man walks out of one of the other stalls. I laugh and say "Am I in the Men's Room?!" and he laughs and says "I'm not sure, I think I may be in the Women's Room. I said uh oh when I heard you on the phone." We both laughed, and washed our hands.

Back in the ER, we finally get all the tests back which are all good. We leave with no real knowledge of what caused the chest pains but with a few laughs and an ER bill. Scissors saw a cardiologist the next day and will be having a stress test next week. So we'll see what it is and go from there. Hopefully nothing and just as I told Julian "maybe Daddy ate too much and he has heartburn."

On the way home I said "you really didn't think I needed that white shirt, huh?"

"Very funny G, take me home."

And home we went.

Asleep at the Wheel

I was sitting at my desk shuffling papers so as to put them in the right priority of what to put off first when Narnia alighted my doorway and just launched into a conversation as if we had been talking all along. She talks in this incredulous tone as if she's giving you the most amazing news. It might be a cultural thing - she's originally from the Philippines.

"My son picked me up last night and right between exits 51 and 52, a man just decided to go to sleep right there." her voice building to a crescendo. "Probably he just wanted us to go around him, my son laughed".

"Let me understand this correctly" I say, "the man was sitting in traffic?"

"No!" exclaims Narnia "he was just sitting there in the middle lane asleep."

"With no cars in front of him?" I venture.

"No, just sitting there so everyone had to go around him. We were in the HOV lane" she explains helpfully.

"From my way of thinking, why would the man decide he's too tired to drive and just stop and go to sleep right in the middle lane of a highway? Wouldn't he just have gone to the shoulder of the road?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's true!" Narnia cries.

"I mean what if the guy was dead?" I ask trying to hide my growing irritation.

"That's true, I hope he got home okay" she says.

"Me too." I offer.

Bad Moon on the Rise

I'm so preoccupied with getting Julian's summer camp situation resolved right now that my concentration level is flailing (starting off with the attention span of a gnat is not helpful). I've begun four different posts and they all went nowhere fast. I think that may be lucky for you. I'm in the zoned out pre-zone in which I can do nothing but look obsessively at design blogs. I am sure that will really help resolve the issue. In fact, I'm certain. In fact, perhaps Julian should stay home with Grandma and make pin cushions and throw pillows for the summer.

For those of you who are fairly new in these parts, Julian is my son who is five years old. He has some developmental delays which sometimes make life difficult for him, sometimes funny - but always interesting. The good news is that his difficulties are not such that they would warrant him to be in a separate Special Education year round program. This is unfortunately also the bad news because as such, he is not eligible for certain services that he receives during the course of the 10 month school year.

I won't bore you with administrative details but we would love for Julian to be able to participate in summer camp. We are having a difficult time finding the right fit. He probably will not be able to go to the same camp (as we had hoped) with his sister because the Board of Ed will not provide the needed assistant to shadow Julian (as he has in his school setting).

But we continue to seek solutions and try to provide what is best for Julian. Sometimes I feel as if I'm in one of those bad dreams where you're trying to run, but can't seem to get anywhere.

Speaking of running, Julian just won his little running race in his Class Olympics last week. It was a shining Chariots of Fire moment for sure.

I'll be round to catch up on all my favorite blogs (that's right, yours), once I can get an indicator of what direction we're even going. I hope that's soon. You may find me making pin cushions with Grandma. I really wish that I could sew, so that's a good start.

Sophisticated and Funny

Today was sort of a day of trying to finally slam the lid shut on the winter clothes/summer clothes switchover. Don't think we'll be requiring wool for a few months.

At some point, it was just Tali and I home. I was in my bedroom sorting through some things and Tali kept popping in for mini discussions. One started "it's funny in an interesting way how some religions pray to a statue." which segued into "it's sort of like I believe in the Tooth Fairy. Not everyone believes in one, but I do. I mean who else could write in that little tiny curly manner that she does? And when my tooth suddenly falls out, how could you run out and get something and get it under my pillow without me waking?" I pointed out that she is indeed a heavy sleeper but she wasn't buying. "Plus my tooth fairy looks like me". This last bit because Tali did indeed ask her Tooth Fairy to draw a picture of herself. The Tooth Fairy instead directed her to four pages from the back of one of her fairy books and there she was in all her little glory. "Did you believe in the Tooth Fairy?" she asked.

"I did indeed" I replied. "still do". She smiled a satisfied smile.

"You're a good Mom in two ways - you're sophisticated and funny". she concluded.

"Why thank you. You're sophisticated and funny too." I said.

"I'm too young to be sophisticated" she replied.

"Well okay - a callous sophisticate in training" I offered.

She laughed.

The rest of the day was fraught with some tensions, but the fact that I ended up sophisticated and funny in my daughter's eyes, well I guess it wasn't a total loss.

"Here's to better days" said the callous sophisticate.

URGENT UPDATE: Tali has informed me that she said funny yet sophisticated which slightly alters my whole post. Carry on.

Guess What?

One year ago TODAY I started this here little blog.

145 posts later (yeah, yeah - big whup), I'm still plucking away. My laptop is showing signs of wear - the "X" key has popped off and the little mouse area (whatever that's called on a laptop) has the silver color rubbed off. I guess I am putting it to use, we'll not entertain arguments at this juncture whether such use is good.

Now not that I'm the world's biggest rap fan, but I seem to have a couple of songs that I happen to know, from where is not important. They are catchy, I must say. Sometimes, they make the soundtrack to my day. As I drove to work this morning I had what I think was Lil Kim's song in my head "Brooklyn style that's how we do it, real gangstas that ain't got to prove it." Yeah, that's me - a gangsta driving along in my Camry. Oy vay.

Then at work, I sent Narnia the hapless assistant an email before I left last night asking for certain information to be obtained. I opened the email this morning and her response was there in which she happily and efficiently replied "we didn't receive it". Well no we did not, that's what I was sort of asking you to get. Then a song by JayZ came into my head "I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one."

The day rounded off with my realizing it was one year ago that I started my humble little blog and what pops into my head - Eminem - this one I'll play for you.



Now before everyone gets up in arms, let's roll the disclaimer "the lyrics quoted in this post and video are not that of the blog author (well duh, I already told you who they were by) and the blog author in no way condones the misogynist materialistic plain fresh way these rappers speak". But you know what? Every era has its own rebellion and this is the current one. If I take such offense now, how will I ever infiltrate when my own children come of age?

"Cause it feels so empty without me..."

Running with Marigolds

We live in the city in attached homes. So far it's worked out fine. We don't speak to the neighbor husband on one side, but his wife is lovely in the "I'm married to a neanderthal but don't hold it against me" sort of way.

Anyway, Scissors mentions that someone has abandoned a pup by tying it to another neighbor's front door. So Julian and I go off to investigate. Since Julian has had a bath and his hair is still a bit damp I tell him to put a hat on. He goes and puts on a winter hat. Somehow it looks perfect with his little slippers and jammies. We go down a few houses to our neighbors and meet Amanda outside with the stray dog. He's a bit hyper and Julian runs home and brings back a marigold that he has brought home from school to show to him. He also brings a coloring book. I am quite happy about Julian's taking to coloring books as he's sort of avoided them up to this point in time. It smacks too much of work this whole grasping a crayon thing so the fact that he is asking me to color with him is a major milestone in my eyes! We color away - bears are purple and orange and pink and yellow (but I gave mine a gray suit to offset - worked quite nicely). And mostly I love that Julian has brought the flower to show the dog.

Julian then wants to take a little walk so I acquiesce and before you know it, we're racing and I'm holding the marigold and the coloring book, panting after him. Skinny little guy can move!

Get home and get him into bed and Tali is finishing her homework. I let her see the video that I featured in Central Snark this weekend by Balkan Beat Box. Here we go - "Why is that man not wearing a shirt?" she asks.

"He's a performer - they're a little less modest". I reply.

Now I see the woman in the tight white dress swilling beer from a bottle, which Tali zones in on but laughingly makes a comment about. I reply "At least I've only robbed you of half your childhood showing you half naked men and beer swilling women".

"Mommy, you crack me up" she replied.

So there's that.

Anyway, tonight begins the Jewish holiday of Shavuot and woohoo, I was here last year because I posted this joke last Shavuot:

Moses comes down from the mountain after receiving the Torah and says to the children of Israel:

"The good news is I got him down to ten. The bad news - adultery is still in". Badum bum.

Chag Sameach!

I Can't Buy an Idea

Well perhaps I could.

There is that book that I saw with writing prompts for blogging "Nobody Cares What You Had for Lunch". Hey - speak for yourself! I know my fellow bloggers are dying to know that I had "the big salad" with feta cheese, olives, carrots, assorted other veg with a green tea and an apple afterwards.

Sounds healthy no? Then I guess I don't need to mention the 6 or so Entenmann's Mini chocolate chip cookies that I had after dinner. Now that is not helping in my goal towards a more svelte me. It's my achilles heel - cookies/sweets. I love good food - my lunch was perfect for me. But let me loose with sweets around and then what? You expect me to control myself?

Yes I know - don't bring it into the house - I didn't.

You know what? Nobody cares what I had for dinner or snack either.

Until I really have something to blog about, how about you go talk to yourselves at HUMORBLOGS.COM?

Now do I need to get a wrong number call at 11:06 PM? Luckily I was up blogging. No need to wake the rest of the family. "Hello, is the kitchen still open?". Is he trying to tempt me? Not even the old "Is your refrigerator running?" prank.

Why didn't I take his order - damn! Now that could have been something to blog about.

G'night.

Happy Mother's Day!

Remember this sage advice, with it you'll go far!

Happy Mother's Day to one and all because even if you're not a mother yourself, you are the reason someone is. See? Everybody's a winner!

In a true Mother's Day moment, Tali just brought her plate of leftover pancakes on a platter to me and said "Happy Mother's Day!". Julian then proceeded to eat off the plate. Everything as it should be.

Enjoy your Mother's Day!

I Feel Lucky!

I'm on a roll. I won this lovely print from the artist's little blog contest. The blog name is Wolfie and The Sneak. Go take a look at her work - she has an Etsy shop as well. Quite lovely.

Then lo and behold, someone near and dear to many of us, Mo'aa held a contest to scoop up one of her lovely Chrysalis that she had made in honor of the arrival of her beautiful grandson. That's right - I, G, will be welcoming one into my home any day now. First I had to answer an intricate series of questions, such as what is my first AND last name. This US mail expects so much information. Should I have been suspicious when they both asked for my social security number? I didn't think so either.

Can a Caption Contest Win be far off?

Too busy to blog...

but not too busy to pander. What chutzpah!

I'm in the finals of the Caption Contest over at Diesel's Mattrees Police. Just CLICK HERE and cast your vote (for me hopefully). Don't even waste your precious time reading, just click on G's "south by southeast" caption. My NBFF, Neva is also in the finals, but she won last week and she said that you could vote for me. Not in so many words, but she didn't say that you couldn't.

That's all for now.

Scoot!

As soon as work stops expecting me to work, I'll be around for a visit. Miss you, love you, mean it.

An Addiction is Born

Gather round children. I'm about to let you in on a secret pleasure of mine...bordering on an obsession. It's not quite there yet, but it's brewing, so to speak.

It all started off innocently enough back in the wintertime when two parents at Tali's violin school were drinking a foreign beverage. "What's that?" I ask. They explain in far too much detail for me to recall, words sticking out such as taro, cassava root, black tea, tapioca balls - the last bit I remember, "bubble tea". They boasted of its energizing quality and smiled enthusiastically about its taste. They then pointed me in the direction - a certain Chinese Bakery on Main Street in Flushing, Queens where I could procure the drink.

Off we went in search of. The first stop landed us in a Chinese Bakery but when I asked what type of tea they served - they offered up a Lipton. No thanks, says I but lean in a bit conspiratorially and ask "Say, where can I get a bubble tea?"

"Oh bubba tea!" they say enthusiastically and point me in the direction of a Tea Shop on the opposite side, corner. Off I go and sure enough go into what seems to be the mecca of Bubble Tea .


After I place my order and wait, my very own Bubble Tea arrives. The first sip goes down a little hard, with a tapioca ball catching in my throat. With each sip, the flavor becomes less foreign, the chewy tapioca balls less...chewy. I enjoyed the drink but was not abandoning Starbucks any time soon.

Springtime comes and I stop by to get another Bubble tea which Tali and I laugh sounds like it's being pronounced "bubba tea" which actually isn't far off I've come to learn. I'm really enjoying this - just the refreshment the afternoon calls for.

I find myself thinking of bubble tea and wondering when the next time is I'll be in the neighborhood. Last weekend seemed to be a good time. I hit the spot at around 11:30 am, get out of my car, feed the meter and walk up - what's this? Closed? It's almost noon! Back into my car. I decide to check out another possible purveyor of bubble tea, closer to home. Park, get out - what's this? Relocated to 80-02 Roosevelt Avenue!? That's out of my way! I feel a bead of sweat forming and tell myself I could go home now without a bubble tea and be just fine. Instead I walk around the block to the last possible location that I know of. Score! There in all its lovely Asian minimalist aesthetic is a new Bubble tea shop! I go in and order, trying not to appear too anxious, casually asking about how long they've been here as they begin to make my tea (all the while muttering under my breath..."come on, you're not going to Taiwan for the bubbles, let's go man"). On the surface I am cool as I get handed the tea and good wishes for my day. I turn for the straw the size of a garden hose and head for my car.

I sip, it's not as good as the original bubble tea place from which I originally scored. Not bad - just not as good.

It's a little out of my way, but I'll drop by tomorrow on my way home to see if the original tea shop is open for business again. My worst nightmare is that the Board of Health has shuttered the place, although there seems no evidence of that.

Just the same, I'll ask around the neighborhood to see what I can find out.

Do yourselves a favor - don't have a bubble tea. No good can come of it.

Rummaging...

...something funny, light, amusing.

She rushes around straightening up the couch cushions, shoving piles of clothing underneath. Oops, "Sorry Julian, come on out" They'll be here any moment, must have the place in order. Should I put out drinks? No! Don't want anybody getting tipsy and finding the mess I've stashed. How about coffee? "Scissors - lattes on the round!" I cry. "We're expecting company - the doors are going to be beaten down by visitors from The Mattress Police! I told you not to cut that damn tag off!"

I became an adjutant inspector today over at The Mattress Police blog. When I wiped the tears from my eyes, I wasn't really sure what an adjutant inspector did...or does or should do. It sounds terribly important though and I will try my best to live up to the irresponsibilities that such a post requires.

The truth is I can trace the genesis of Diesel's arrival on Central Snark. He seemed to appear like an alien from a space ship out of nowhere. Naturally, we all (Neva and I) dropped everything and surrounded his ship - looking in at him quizzically and then laughing at his audacity. And months later, we haven't stopped looking - and laughing. He's a funny guy. The kind of guy that you wished occupied the next office over so when that 3:00 lull hits, he could make you laugh and then you'd go home. Something like that. Instead I hit his blog at the 3:00 lull, he makes me laugh...and I go home. Give or take an hour time elapse.

Okay, I'm off to really clean up the place so that I can go to bed and dream sweet dreams...I wonder - will I have to wear a uniform in this new roll? It could make mornings getting out of the house that much easier.

G'night.

Marilee, we hardly knew ye.

A big news item this past week was the resignation of the Dean of Admissions at MIT, Marilee Jones. It seems Ms. Jones overstated her academic qualifications when she first accepted a job in 1979 and never bothered to correct this as the career carrot was repeatedly dangled and she was promoted to higher level positions of increasing responsibility, topping out as the Dean of Admissions. Not shabby at all. As if that weren't enough, she drew the neon arrow to herself by publishing a book on navigating the college admissions maze.

Forbes.com just had a little article on AOL about the percentage of resume padders and academic falsifiers - it's a pretty high number. Shame does strange things to people. I know, I have lived with it in my life.

Many of you know that I come from a large family - I was the seventh of ten children born to a charismatic dad who comes from a long line of alcoholism and a large family himself. He was forced out of school in or around 8th grade to help work and earn money for his family. He was one of the older boys and so the responsibility fell squarely upon their shoulders. Their father was out busy drinking apparently. My mother also from a large Irish family - did well by most standards and graduated high school and got an office job in New York City...until she got married I believe.

My father was not illiterate by any stretch of the imagination, he read and was often showing his prowess in those word games in the Readers Digest and the daily puzzles. But of course this does not an education make. He was however, pretty clever with the turn of phrase and would often win the slogan contests at work - a precursor to today's caption contests if you will.

Anyway, I digress. The topic is shame and growing up in a blue collar town whose entrance was dotted with oil tanks bordering the New Jersey Turnpike can make one acutely aware of that gnawing sense that you just don't measure up somehow. Of course being set adrift into the world without benefit of a formal education can present some interesting choices - earn a living or earn a living? I guess put that way, I'll earn a living. You see college was never even mentioned. There were certainly no institutions of higher learning in town and I didn't have any sort of mentor from my high school days. High School ended up being a turbulent time for me and try as I might, fond memories are few. Oddly I remember being in the top percentile when taking those standardized tests yet nobody bothered to figure out why I just wasn't applying myself in school. The reasons might have been too difficult to deal with I suppose.

But I survived and soldiered on and moved in with my older sister who had an apartment and set about the business of earning a living. Oy vay. I mean it was all legit, but nothing glamorous I can assure you. A job was arranged for me by my aunt in a certain hospital affiliated with The University of Pennsylvania. So close, but you see I was 19 or so and spent lunch hours "enjoying nature" with the doctors' kids, who were themselves working as they went to school. Everyone was so educated, I burrowed deeper into the shame that seemed my only birthright as I continued "to earn a living".

So fast forward to Ms. Jones' living a lie. Shame can be a debilitating thing to live with. I understand the misstep she made to secure a foot on the ladder upward. I do believe that she should have confronted this issue earlier and spoken to someone. But I also believe shame can become a sickness in and of itself, not unlike alcoholism in that you can be made powerless by it.

It takes work to see accomplishments that aren't on a parchment degree, yet they are there for me and they are not inconsiderable. I am extremely proud of the person I've become and my humble start in life has made me rich in many ways.

I did, however, have a conversation with my nine year old daughter recently in which she was herself mulling college:

"Mommy, what college did you go to?"

"Tali, that's an interesting question. You see..." I felt myself flubbing and faltered on "I didn't exactly graduate from college".

Her eyes went wide. I went on to explain that I didn't have a college degree and she said in her very pragmatic way, "You know, Julian and I are getting a little older and pretty soon you'll have more time for yourself. Maybe you could go to college then".

You know something Tali, you just may be onto something.

On Science Projects and Plants

So Tali has a project for Science class which is to use a simple machine to improve upon another machine. The children had to submit their ideas to the teacher and her first invention was rejected because it was similar to another invention already submitted. Greeeaaat.

So any suggestions would be welcome in the comment box. Actually, she came up with another for which we are working up a model. In the meantime, we went to the nursery for some plants for the planters in the front of the house because nothing says project avoidance like a little spruce up of the outdoors.

Going anywhere with Tali and Julian together is a trip. Do I love these kids? Do they make me laugh - every time. But by the end of the outing, I'm moving them swiftly and steadily towards the car. Now why does the nursery do something like put a candy machine before the checkout? Julian kept getting drawn back to it. "I don't have change Julian, just my debit card." I said.

"Just a quarter" he pleads. "No, no change".

I herd them back to the register where invariably they take one more walk. I am preoccupied with checking out when the Momdar zones in on a foreign sound in the nursery (insert Psycho shower scene music here). My card has gone through and the workers are packing up my cart when I skip over an aisle and see my darling children rocking the candy machine. I call out their names and give them the incredulous stare which goes something like one eye closes and one eye bugs out. I get them and the plants out of the nursery as Tali explains "We just shook the machine a little and a chocolate covered raisin came out". That's the point that I had looked down the aisle to see Julian popping it in his mouth.

"I see" I say "so you risk knocking over a $250 machine for a penny candy? Let's have a little talk about consequences."

"I wanted an M&M" Julian chimes in. So much for consequences.

We stop to pet a basset hound outside the nursery. As we walk to the car, I tell the kids that we once had a basset hound growing up and her name was Banjo. We also had another dog named Groucho. What happened to her, the kids want to know.

So I tell the truth - "She got very sick".
"What was the matter with her?" Tali asks.

"She had cancer" I say.
"Dogs can get cancer?" Tali asks.

"Why did she get cancelled?" Julian chimes in.

"Not cancelled Julian - CANCER" Tali corrects.

With that, we headed on to our next stop with the music playing and the kids already onto the next conversation. Me? I'm just smiling at these little people that make my life so very rich.

Scenes from a Childhood

Thanks everyone for your kind support of Shannon's Relay for Life efforts. My family is indeed touched by all your kindnesses.

The following is a little vignette from my childhood - as simple and as complicated as it was.

I found a kitten on the "side road" and brought it home (the side road was thus named as only the sides of houses bordered it - no fronts...and it was the side road). At least I think that's how it got there. I was a little girl and I put it in a box in the garage with a blanket. It looked a little sick to me - runny eyes, that I remember. The garage was not a place you could really play in. You would ride your bike in from playing and quick, put the kickstand down and run out. Sometimes you would just do a hop off as it was moving and run out without bothering with the kickstand. Anyway, I went and got the kitten a little bowl of milk. A day later (or whatever the time elapse was) when I went back out to check on the poor thing, it had died. I think I recall one of my brothers out there checking on it, something about distemper.

So when I think of such stories from my childhood and juxtapose it to my children's - imagine Tali bringing home a sick kitten, roaming the neighborhood alone. The freedom with which I traveled my landscape - don't get me wrong, there were plenty of dangers out there but somehow they never befell us. The truth is we were already hardened to dangers from living with an alcoholic. Yes sure, my father stopped drinking when I was around nine or ten, can't be sure. The dye was cast. I had lost the ability to be carefree.

Instead I developed a sense of humor that was more the armour required for survival in a large loud Irish family. Why do I share this with you? I'm not sure. Something made me think of summer days, dirt floors in garages, short haircuts with bangs, the haves...the have-nots, running in the house and drinking tap water on a hot summer day, the woebegone, the disenfranchised. Although to look at us, you would never know it. My mother worked so hard to keep our house in order and neat and clean. Our clothes never bore a wrinkle.

Sometimes the externals aren't so important, as it turns out.

ON BEHALF OF SHANNON

Dear Family and Friends,
It's that time of year again- this will be my third year with Relay for Life, my fourth anniversary of being cancer free! If you would like to support my efforts in raising money for the American Cancer Society, please follow the link below. I would also love to see you at the event- it will be at the Amherst College Football field on April 20th and 21st... Drop by and do a lap with me if you can!

Hope everyone is healthy and happy. Enjoy the coming spring and drop me a line to say hello.

Love-
Shannon


MAKE YOUR TAX FREE DONATION TO THE AMERICAN CANCER SOCIETY IN SUPPORT OF SHANNON'S EFFORTS HERE

I will let the above letter from my niece Shannon speak for itself. I received this along with a lovely email from my brother (her Dad) today. I would love to print it here, but it would take too much space (sorry Pat) and I want to get to the main part - helping Shannon raise money for a very worthy cause. I will, however, excerpt a bit from his email here:

"The great news is that we will be celebrating 4 years of Shannon being in remission this June. So many positive things have happened in her life that I am grateful for. She will be graduating with honors from Amherst College in about 6 weeks. She has been involved in a few internships that have sent her to India, and NYC for summer studies. She just had her first job interview yesterday, for a research assistant with a firm in CT. All of those accomplishments pale in comparison to the gratitude I have for her recovery."

The photo above is of Shannon which my brother sent with his email. He said that he liked this particular one as it looked like Shannon was looking to the heavens thanking G-d for another day of life. With your generous support, other children will too be able to smile.

Thank you all for sharing this with my family. If you can lend your support in a monetary fashion, we appreciate it beyond words - and thanks to anybody who has already given, your generosity is quite touching.

I realize that not everyone is in a position to show their support financially. You could also just leave a comment in support of Shannon's efforts - I'll be sure she sees them which will also be inspiring to her.

And to Shannon, a young woman special beyond words - L'chaim baby - to life!

Baby baby baby you're out of time...

"I say, baby baby baby you're out of time..."

Sometimes I feel as though I'm in a step aerobics class - only I'm not. Well I'm not because a) I'm not in the gym and b) it's just how life feels sometimes - as if I'm facing the front of the class when everyone else is facing the back. No wonder I ended up with a stress fracture that time, all that keeping up - in the step class that is.

It's hard keeping up with everyone's lives, it's hard keeping up with mine. Truth is I don't do such a bang up job at it. When we went to Tali's violin lesson tonight, she handed over an outline of a Recital that we are getting together to perform at Grandpa's nursing home to her teacher, Margaret. I say "we" as I just came up with the idea and presented it to Margaret who thought it would be a wonderful thing to do. Actually, she said in her lovely Icelandic accent "Tali this would be great, it would be a real mitzvah" (love when Margaret sprinkles in a little Jewishness with her Icelandic accent). From there, Tali has created an outline of proposed pieces to play, who will get a solo and so on and so forth. Margaret sort of beamed at me. I smiled back and said "in a year or so, I'll turn the household over to her".

Anyway, that's all I've got for now, come dance - I'm the one in need of a support bra, sporting bad pigtails. Can you find me?

And then what happened?

It is the last day of Julian's Spring vacation and tomorrow we can finally answer in the affirmative when he runs to our bedside and asks "Is it over?". He is, of course, referring to Passover. He's been a real trooper, foregoing waffles and other breakfast delectables that seem to be the most troublesome aspect of the holiday for him. In fact, on one particularly bad day (about Day 6) I found him sobbing in the kitchen with Daddy comforting him. I hope this won't be fodder for the shrink in his young adults years.

In any event, if it's the last day of vacation, that must mean there is unfinished homework to tackle. Now doing homework with Julian can require quite a bit of creativity and patience and the amounts vary on any given day but the requirement for both always exists. I imagine Julian feels the same.

Today we find ourselves looking out the window at the next door neighbor's dogs. We start the homework.

Julian (scratching at a mark on my thumb) "What's that - a booboo?"
Me: "Yeah"
Julian: "How did you get that?"

Me seizing this as the diversion opportunity it is start telling an outlandish tale and engage him in the homework at the same time.

Me: "Well, funny you should ask. I was walking down the street..."
Julian: "Go on"
Me: "And there was a broken sidewalk and I slipped and fell down and down and down into a big hole"
Julian: "and then what happened?"
Me: "Well you were operating a digger and you picked me up and flew out and saved me"
Julian: "I'm a superhero"
Me: "That's right, you're a superhero"

We have finished two pages of the homework and then,

Julian: "What happened next"
Me: "Well I got out and continued walking, but a bird swooped down...
Julian: "And what did he do?"
Me: "He pecked at my finger."

During this time we have also managed a few discussions on 2 being more or less than 3, which included his going to get a second opinion on the topic; refusal to count certain items; observations on the dogs next door and a growing sense that this homework is poppycock and suppressing the temptation to write a note to the teacher saying so.

It is at this point that the reinforcement steps in. Scissors sits down and finishes the homework with Julian. His tack is to give hugs in between finished tasks. Oh does this boy play us like a fiddle.

Tali get out your rosin.

The Battle of the Biscuits

There are certain things my mother-in-law does not take lightly, food being one - more specifically home baked goods.

I picked her up from the nursing home the other day where she was visiting her husband who has split "the friendship" with his girlfriend. I saw the girlfriend all neatly coiffed fresh from the home's beauty parlor napping right across from his room. They'll be back together, I mean how far can you go to get away from each other when you're a resident on the same floor? I recently shared with Tali why Grandpa was in the home to begin with which included in no small part his nocturnal wandering of the streets of the city, leaving the door wide open at home all because he insisted he needed to get to his job as manager of the nearby 7-11. Never mind that he was not in their employ, he spent hours there anyway. Once I shared this with her, I said "why did I tell you that?" to which Tali replied with a bemused smile on her face "I don't know. I mean it's sad and funny all at the same time". "I think that's why I shared it" I said. Please understand we are very sad that Grandpa is in a nursing home, but I recognize that Tali has inherited her ability to look at the humorous side of life, in all its absurdity from her Mama.

Back to the baked goods. My mother-in-law had asked me to stop at KeyFood on the way home for her to buy flour which is on sale. More reverse price gouging as technically Jews cannot buy flour during Passover as our homes should be free of such items or a ritual sale of said should have occurred. Sales trump all religious law and my MIL marches in to claim her savings.

You see this is all brought about because Tali has mentioned to my MIL that she likes her sister's biscuits better. "Maybe because she makes them with that special cookie shooter and they come out thinner" I offer. "No, no - the last time I made them, I ran out of vanilla and used vanilla pudding instead. And instead of butter, I had to add a little oil. Miss America notices everything. Julian will eat them anyway, not Tali. " She is right about that.

Miss America is the name she teasingly but lovingly calls Tali, sometimes to Tali's chagrin but that's lost on Grandma as she calls her it anyway. I laugh inside because I know the reason she favors her great-Aunt's biscuits is as I've stated but I figure let Grandma give it her best shot with the finest ingredients lined up. Not like they won't get eaten.

Passover ends Tuesday night - expect the call by Wednesday noon that the biscuits are ready.


End Note: I realize by the comments, biscuits are construed as the normal association of a biscuit. In our world of things not really being what they're called, i.e., chocolate cake which is neither chocolate nor cake; biscuits are actually a little hard lady finger sort of cookie - quite delicious, substitute ingredients notwithstanding.

A Day in the Park

Just when you think your kids are growing up so fast, you see their innocence shining through and it makes you smile.

I took Julian and Tali to the park yesterday, the local playground adjacent to Tali's old school. It's got a great layout and we usually have a grand old time there. Plus I get a goodly amount of exercise chasing Julian, so everybody's happy.

There was a group of kids who were being slightly obnoxious, though nothing terrible. I looked at one and recognized her to be a child from Tali's old school. I said, "aren't you M, from Tali's class?" She just nodded her head "ahumm". "Oh" I smiled and that was that. She seemed older than Tali in some way, more street savvy. When she was in Tali's class which was one or two of her grades in the public school, my recollection of her was not of a nice child, in fact, she was a bit forward and rude.

I mentioned to Tali when she came back over from her bike ride, that I had just seen M and she just shrugged. She went up the slide where the group was playing at the bottom, observed them, and moved on. She ended up making friends with a little girl and led the little girl and Julian on a dig in the dirt, complete with gathering sticks to make a campfire, all the while looking for just the right type of shiney rocks on an archaeological dig.

In many ways, Tali's behavior is more naive than M, the old classmate. But mostly, she is wise beyond their years. Later she remarked, none of her circle of friends had liked M in the old school because she was mean. M was joined by Victoria in the park who, Tali recalled, cared more for her looks than her IQ.

Mostly I felt grateful that I have two children who are still happy to come with Mommy to the park; who don't try to be "cool" and who know how to just let the unbridled joy of childhood lead the path for a day well played...I have the dirty laundry to prove it.


We are busy preparing the house to celebrate Passover and will be doing so over the next few days. To all my Jewish friends and family, a Zissin Pesach.

Boy Do I Suck...

...at keeping in touch.

It was inevitable. I am a terrible penpal. I mean to keep up with what's going on in loved one's lives. I mean to send class pictures. Sometimes I find whole sets that I haven't sent or shared. I mean to let people know that I am thinking of them. I know they mean to do the same for me.

Yet I haven't sent all those cards that I keep thinking of sending, nor emails and now the last bastion of civility (heh) - my blog. Well now you know me. Now I've fallen out of touch with you too. Does it mean I love you less? Nay, not a chance. It's this brick of inertia that doesn't let me respond on my keyboard or leave a comment. Work gets me bogged down by being bogged down by work that I am not so excited to be doing. Then I flip around and daydream out the window.

You were all there, sort of like the Wizard of Oz, each playing different parts.

What can I say, sometimes my inertia kicks in, and then well, work, life, family and there's not much left over. But it's been a dismal spell and now I will once again attempt to shake the cobwebs off.

But the good news of this is that part of the reason for my inattention is the attention in real life to meeting up with some Blogger Buddies.

Firstly The Penguin Queen, Monika flew in from Iceland and boy were her flippers tired! Then before you could say - "Holy don't exit the Airport Batman" - Sar arrived on her red stilettos. I picked her up after some bad airport layout (that's my story and it's sticking) tried to prevent me from doing so. Once in my car, off I whisked her to Connecticut. We got together and met up with Neva and Joel and our dear Penguin. The next day, we all met up again as you can see in this picture (Scissors the token non-blogger):


The following days the high continued with a get together with the most lovely Mo'a! I am sure we would still be on her couch if flights and life didn't get in our way. Oh and if we weren't asked to leave. That is so not true, Mo'a kept tempting us with coffee and delicacies to lull us into comfort. And we were lulled. Her nicer than nice hubby, Ken or Heinken as he's come to be affectionately known (Neva's take on Icelandic terms of endearment) generously let us take over their lovely home.

We were still riding high as we met with Al downtown the following day. He and the lovely and fun Mrs. Al hosted us for lunch. We were once again treated like queens (hey if they're not asking, I'm not telling) and then on to a downtown tour as only Al could have given.

So here we are back in reality. You know my NBFF and I don't get together nearly enough and to get to spend time with her and all of these great blogger buds, well I have to tell you, it's been special.

So officially, Monika and Sar - it was so great to spend whatever time that I spent with you. Neva and Joel, DITTO and thank you for all your generosities! Mo'a, HeineKen, Al, and Mrs. Al - thank you so much for your warm hospitality, they were great days for my scrapbook.

And the rest of my blogger buds - you were all there too! I hope I don't forget to send the pictures.

A Breath of Fresh Air

Sometimes you open your window and Spring is in the air. It is still cool, but the skies are a bit bluer, vapor doesn't form in little puffs and rings out of your mouth. Somehow it just feels crisp with possibility.

Sometimes you open your heart for new friendships to be made, it gets warmer still, the skies are even bluer.

Sometimes you lie in bed next to your children and listen to their breath become more shallow as sleep relaxes their body. In the warmth of their weight next to you lies the magic of the universe.

Sometimes you are truly grateful for a wonderful day and you lay down and smile.

And it's that simple.

It's Normal

When something breaks and it falls to the floor, how do you spell that kind of break?

Shattered.

How do you spell it?

S-h - NO! Oooh, b-r-e-a-k.

That was an exchange between Tali and I as she did her homework this evening. There's my brain jumping to conclusions again.

"Did anybody ask me another word for break?" I muttered.

To which she replied (our new tagline): "It's normal".

So where is this post going or what is it about? Well, it could be a recurring G Jumps to Conclusions (you remember the turquoise flowered lunchbox!). That's right Diesel, I have taken to just blurting that out when I do jump to conclusions and isn't it amazing the time saved on no further discussion of the matter at hand.

What matter? What post? Oh nothing. Yeah a post about nothing...it worked for some television show.

It's normal.

Don't buy the chopped meat

I know that I've written of my mother-in-law's shopping skills previously. She has mentioned to us before about buying ground meat for hamburgers. "Why should you - I have the attachment for the Kitchen Aid to ground meat". Who has the time, I wonder. It's not like we buy it often.

She must have worked on Scissors pretty hard as he said when I got home the other day, "I bought some meat at the butcher's, my mother's grinding it up for us". No arguments from me, but I smile. We had the burgers that night and boy, they were pretty good I must say.

Tali visited Grandma a day later and at dinner at home that night she mentions that Grandma has said not to buy ground meat. "She's weakening the fortress from all angles" I mutter under my breath. "She asked me if I had hamburgers last night. She also asked how big they were and how many I had" Tali offers, her smile getting broader as she recounts each of Grandma's breaches. "Did she ask what plate you ate it from" I muse.

You see, this is the beauty of children - she can sit at Grandma's table having honey cake, being peppered with questions. She'll typically answer in one word responses, all the while seeing the absurdity of the situation and being amused by it. I'd just get annoyed. In this scenario, everybody's a winner - we get the ground meat knowing (more or less) what's in it, Tali gets honey cake and Grandma is happy in her knowledge that she has saved us a few dollars.

Oy, makes you want to become a vegetarian.

I Think I Felt Inspired...

...for about ten minutes today. A thought for a post flashed into my head and ideas swirled in layers one on top of another...and then I awoke with a start drooling at my desk.

The Music Stand

It was a warm July day, but not the oppressively hot ones. No, this was no humidity and it was lucky to be 80 degrees. They had gone upstate for the weekend just to get away from the hustle and bustle of every day life. They would spend some time by the lake and meander about in different antique stores. In one such place, that was more hodgepodge than true antiques, she found a brass music stand. She bought it. Over the years it held books or a picture, but was never used for its true calling because well, she did not play an instrument.

Winters and summers passed. The music stand always survived the edits of households. Finally one Springtime, they discovered they were going to have a baby. She was born late in the Fall. Spring times and autumns passed and she would learn to play the violin.

The music stand would finally hold music for a musician. It was happy.