I was the girl who was made fun of for being a skinny geek. My curls got me comments, my grades got me jabs, my clothing got me pokes of meanness...I get that part. Kids suck and they find a target and run with it. If only Glee was cool back then. But I could blow my hair straight, get a couple of B's and stop wearing the jeans with the roller skate w real laces on my ass pocket. To screw these things up for acceptance broke my Mom's heart by the way. Looking back I see why...they made me, ME. But skinny? Well, that was a tricky one. I ate healthily, had a smaller frame and always just adored moving. I swam all summer in my pool, dug into any game of manhunt I could join and competed in the double dutch contests. I ran track, did some cheering and kicked ass at some volleyball. I was the one girl left at the end of every gym class...not even dodge ball scared me. I rode bikes, walked EVERYWHERE and joined my Dad for a little game of basketball in the back yard whenever I could. I would like to thank the following for helping: New York, competitive boys, bitchy girls, clothes lines coated in plastic, my pool, my coaches, my Mom's Sweatin' to the Oldies video, the stationary bike (that I used to study on while riding), visits to my sis in Philly, White Plains Road, the many gyms I've belonged to and green peppers as snacks.
Now, why the need for forgiveness? Well, the girl with the poodle head, braces and no name clothes at least had something most girls didn't...she was thin. Really thin. I remember while sitting in church once my friend made a comment about my thigh next to hers. I vividly remember her being mad at me for a bit because of it. This trend continued for the next several years. While other girls were growing up and out I just seemed to stay slight in stature. While being measured for a quincaenera dress the seamstress made a fuss over the size of my waist... the other girls glared. My sister often made comments about my weight and her challenges with food. Girls don't like the skinniest one in the room. I learned this the hard way. I think I figured people would grow out of it as I grew up. In college I continued to be active by taking aerobics as a gym class, working out like crazy and doing many outdoor activities. I also became a lifeguard for several years and dated a fitness nut. Grown women are even more cruel. As a student teacher I worked with a fairly obese woman who made constant comments about my weight and punished me often with cruel words in other places. It's not that I ever had bad thoughts about larger people...I just didn't understand how it was so hard to lose the weight they always complained about. It wasn't that I looked down on them but I do believe it did go to my head for a bit. I worked hard and was proud of my body.
Somewhere along the line I realized I was tired of having to work my way into being the friend of a woman. The bigger I got the easier it became. The snide little comments about being thin faded off. I was no longer a threat. Family and friends could feel better about themselves as I began to feel worse about myself. It was a sad discovery...and one that I fed into. Combine this with the new lifestyle I had created for myself and well...here I am...about 80 pounds heavier than I should be. I made work, my house, my pregnancies, my children, my parents, etc MY PRIORITY. It was no longer ok to get up at 5:30 to swim, take time to sunbathe or go to the gym. I had stuff to do. Plus, you have a baby and your body is NEVER the same. They don't tell you that part. You truly do feel like a stranger. I was still thin in my head and when I would see a picture of myself I couldn't believe it was me. The excuses need to stop though. Considering that my youngest is now five it's sort of hard to blame the baby for my body. (They can still be blamed for stretchmarks and certain droopy body parts though).
I gave myself February to eat. My own little version of the well known book you have all read. I drank too much coffee, ate too many carbs and did almost nothing physical. I have gained back the 20lbs or so that I lost this past year. I allowed it though. I tried new foods and new recipes as part of my healing. Tomorrow is March and with it comes a new me. I know I have to say I'm sorry though...to the fat girls I felt better than and the skinny girls I grew to hate. I realize that the body does reflect the inner turmoils we all put ourselves through. I have to say sorry to myself for letting anyone make me feel badly about my body then or now. I have to realize that it's ok to put me back on the list. I have also realized that I have stopped looking at bodies....thin, fat, short and tall. I no longer make judgements ...in fact I don't even see the body very often. I see the person, the mind, the heart and the soul of the person. Maybe now that I have learned the lesson from both sides of the fence I can move on to not having issues with weight. Ironically, I grabbed Eat Pray Love today to read while waiting for my daughter to get out of school. It was the final part of the first section in which she talks about gaining weight and not recognizing herself. "I did not know what I deserved. I still maybe don't fully know what I deserve. But I do know that I have collected myself of late - through the enjoyment of harmless pleasures - into somebody much more intact. The easiest, most fundamentally human way to say it is that I have put on weight. I exist more now that I did four months ago. I will leave (Italy) noticeably bigger than when I arrived here. And I will leave with the hope that the expansion of one person - the magnification of one life- is indeed an act of worth in this world. Even if that life, just this one time, happens to be nobody's but my own."
So after this long post (I am grateful if you made it to the end btw) my new thing of the day is to let the skinny bitch and the chubby mama become pals and maybe just maybe they can meet somewhere in the healthy middle.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Write my blog entry while sitting at my new desk in my new "office"
I have been living in this house for over 4 years now. It's larger than my old one and yet I seem to have less space here for some reason. It was purchased with certain functions that were put before my own needs. My parents needed a large space that was theirs and steps were NOT an option. My two children needed bedrooms. The kitchen was important as was a space to eat family dinners together. I was on the bottom of the totem pole. My bedroom has no heat/air. The walls are only primed and the there is no door. It is supposed to be a family room or art studio type space so it wasn't designed to be a bedroom. The hallway outside of the bedroom has no flooring so a series of odds and ends carpets have been put down. On either end of the landing is a door. The doors lead to big open spaces with nothing but framing. They are the cruel doors that lead to the spaces where bedrooms were supposed to have been created. My children would have a large play area and their own rooms. I was to have a beautiful new bathroom and the bedroom I had always dreamed of. One with a window seat for reading books and a sunny corner for yoga. It would be clean, organized and everything I always wanted. This is not the case. The doors stay closed to hide the unfinished life behind them.
A few years back it was determined that the upstairs would not be the dream space I had imagined. Trips to home improvement stores, design magazine subscriptions and all other planning ceased. I needed a space to hide as my own. I created a little space I called mine in the landing area at the top of the stairs. It has my favorite blue comfy chair, a tiny table and a lamp. Near the chair is a pile of knitting supplies if I should feel so inspired as well as a stack of books. It is tiny but it is mine.
My challenge has been a place to organize and plan and do bills, etc. Well, the other side of the hallway landing housed....wait for it....my litter box. Today the litter was moved. A desk was put against a wall. A shelf was even installed complete with cute little boxes to organize my paperwork. There is a place to hold pens and a tiny lamp and a drawer. Maybe now I can clear the kitchen table of paperwork, sort out some storage downstairs and start to clean up the piles of stuff everywhere. I can plan a budget, type a resumé and scan my blogs. Oh, the endless possibilities. My children were even warned to stay away...but only after my daughter and a collection of Barbies had a fashion show with the cool new lights that highlighted their little outfits so perfectly. And just like that the new space has passed the test! Barbie, get lost I have a blog to write!
A few years back it was determined that the upstairs would not be the dream space I had imagined. Trips to home improvement stores, design magazine subscriptions and all other planning ceased. I needed a space to hide as my own. I created a little space I called mine in the landing area at the top of the stairs. It has my favorite blue comfy chair, a tiny table and a lamp. Near the chair is a pile of knitting supplies if I should feel so inspired as well as a stack of books. It is tiny but it is mine.
My challenge has been a place to organize and plan and do bills, etc. Well, the other side of the hallway landing housed....wait for it....my litter box. Today the litter was moved. A desk was put against a wall. A shelf was even installed complete with cute little boxes to organize my paperwork. There is a place to hold pens and a tiny lamp and a drawer. Maybe now I can clear the kitchen table of paperwork, sort out some storage downstairs and start to clean up the piles of stuff everywhere. I can plan a budget, type a resumé and scan my blogs. Oh, the endless possibilities. My children were even warned to stay away...but only after my daughter and a collection of Barbies had a fashion show with the cool new lights that highlighted their little outfits so perfectly. And just like that the new space has passed the test! Barbie, get lost I have a blog to write!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Attend a local musical production with Sandi
I've been to many musicals. I've been to shows at the Shawnee Playhouse. I've even been there with Sandi...but never all three at once! It was a lovely show with lovely company! It was just what this day needed. It was a series of songs from many different musicals - so the question is what tune will I wake up singing in the morning. With a fun time like tonight I think in the morning it will be pretty easy to Let the Sunshine In.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Tackle the tooth fairy, solo
This is my daughter's 9th tooth to be placed into the tiny Tooth Fairy pillow I bought for her when she was too little to even sit up. I kept it for years... waiting. The last several years have brought her extra visits for it seems the fairy has assistants...several of them. In the morning I would be equally as surprised as she would count the money in her precious blue pouch. This year only one of us will play winged pixie of dividends and I can only hope it is enough to keep the spirit alive...of both the fairy and the little girl.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Eat a Bánh mì
When I watched the Great Food Truck Race I learned something new about food. There was a Vietnamese sandwich that I was completely unaware of up to this point in my 38 years. AND IT HAS CILANTRO. How could I have been so ignorant to miss something that highlights the pure joy such as cilantro. Today as I perused the menu for the usual familiar things I tend to stick with... THERE IT WAS!!! It didn't dawn on me at first. I was reading the description backwards for some reason almost as if it was setting me up for the taaaaa daaaa as I read the title. I plopped my menu down, perked up in my seat and smiled at the new culinary adventure I was about to partake in.
It was wonderful. Crispy baguette, crunchy cucumbers, tender ham and fresh herbs...mmmm mmmm. I was truly excited. I was proud that I branched out of my safe little zone of the known. As I sat there devouring my new find I reflected on my challenge. 55 new things in and I am realizing how special it really is to just push yourself a little bit even if it's just getting me a mi.
It was wonderful. Crispy baguette, crunchy cucumbers, tender ham and fresh herbs...mmmm mmmm. I was truly excited. I was proud that I branched out of my safe little zone of the known. As I sat there devouring my new find I reflected on my challenge. 55 new things in and I am realizing how special it really is to just push yourself a little bit even if it's just getting me a mi.
Host book club
We are coming up on our book club anniversary. It's usually at Tina's house. Tonight I hosted for a change. Instead of talking about the book for an hour, babbling about nothing for a half hour and taking two hours to pick the next book this is what we did...
We talked about the book for about 8 minutes. We ate brie and crackers, fruit and croissants and made fun of how fancy we got with the snacks this time. We discussed PMS, motherhood, babies, women on scooter thingies and parenting. We talked about yelling, apologizing and crying in front of our children. We vented, we giggled and poked fun at our lives. We did this for 3 hours.
In our defense we did pick the next book rather quickly and even set up a plan of attack on discussion questions for next time...well, sort of. That was before coffee and rainbow cookies.
Our group of 6 (the size fluctuates depending on availability) must have needed something. We usually stay on task a bit better than this. Not a whole lot better...but we at least try. This time we really just kept talking and venting and listening. There might have even been a tear or two. Our group has been very busy lately. The monthly meeting was bumped quite a bit and some missed the last Borders night so we were a little behind on everything. Catching up on our own lives seemed to take priority over discussing the characters in our book. Laughter and sharing bumped the plot of the twisted tale we had all read. Though we all liked this book and found the story interesting...I guess it couldn't hold a candle to a night of real friends and the follies that follow them.
We talked about the book for about 8 minutes. We ate brie and crackers, fruit and croissants and made fun of how fancy we got with the snacks this time. We discussed PMS, motherhood, babies, women on scooter thingies and parenting. We talked about yelling, apologizing and crying in front of our children. We vented, we giggled and poked fun at our lives. We did this for 3 hours.
In our defense we did pick the next book rather quickly and even set up a plan of attack on discussion questions for next time...well, sort of. That was before coffee and rainbow cookies.
Our group of 6 (the size fluctuates depending on availability) must have needed something. We usually stay on task a bit better than this. Not a whole lot better...but we at least try. This time we really just kept talking and venting and listening. There might have even been a tear or two. Our group has been very busy lately. The monthly meeting was bumped quite a bit and some missed the last Borders night so we were a little behind on everything. Catching up on our own lives seemed to take priority over discussing the characters in our book. Laughter and sharing bumped the plot of the twisted tale we had all read. Though we all liked this book and found the story interesting...I guess it couldn't hold a candle to a night of real friends and the follies that follow them.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Hop around barefoot in the snow while singing Happy Birthday
Today was a day I left the universe an opportunity to present something to me. I attempted to eat at a new place that never unlocked the door. It seemed to have missed the hours sign or the bright "OPEN" light in the window. The rest of the day has been fairly typical. Ironically, I was just bragging about how there are endless possibilities for my challenge. It is in those moments the universe reminds you who really holds the power. Just as we settle in for something or assume something is a certain way we are reminded of how small and tiny we really can be. So, I waited...and waited...and nuthin'.
I have a list of things if such a dilemma should arise. Tonight was the night I removed my socks and headed out to the yard. I've been putting it off. I don't like the cold. It felt like my very own but not as exciting polar bear plunge. I decided that the feel of icy snow crunching beneath my toes was not enough...I had to sing too. I went with an old standard. One step was horrifying, two I almost quit...but by the third I have to say it felt pretty good. Refreshing and cool...literally and figuratively. I sang the whole song and headed back into the warmth of my stripey socks.
So what life changing lesson did I get from a minute in the coldness? Well, sometimes something very simple can bring a new feeling or experience. They don't all have to be huge. Sometimes we just need to knock ourselves out of our comfort zone. Each day should bring something that is uncomfortable. That is one of my new vibes. Did I do something uncomfortable today? Did I push myself to feel something new or release an old thought pattern? Do people know how I truly feel? You get the idea.
It's funny but the first step really was the hardest...after that they were all just fine. Now I can't believe I put it off this long. Maybe the universe did put its hand in there after all. Here I was thinking I was copping out by taking those steps in the snow. Little did I know I just learned one of the biggest lessons of life and all while giggling and singing in my starry backyard.
I have a list of things if such a dilemma should arise. Tonight was the night I removed my socks and headed out to the yard. I've been putting it off. I don't like the cold. It felt like my very own but not as exciting polar bear plunge. I decided that the feel of icy snow crunching beneath my toes was not enough...I had to sing too. I went with an old standard. One step was horrifying, two I almost quit...but by the third I have to say it felt pretty good. Refreshing and cool...literally and figuratively. I sang the whole song and headed back into the warmth of my stripey socks.
So what life changing lesson did I get from a minute in the coldness? Well, sometimes something very simple can bring a new feeling or experience. They don't all have to be huge. Sometimes we just need to knock ourselves out of our comfort zone. Each day should bring something that is uncomfortable. That is one of my new vibes. Did I do something uncomfortable today? Did I push myself to feel something new or release an old thought pattern? Do people know how I truly feel? You get the idea.
It's funny but the first step really was the hardest...after that they were all just fine. Now I can't believe I put it off this long. Maybe the universe did put its hand in there after all. Here I was thinking I was copping out by taking those steps in the snow. Little did I know I just learned one of the biggest lessons of life and all while giggling and singing in my starry backyard.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Try a new instrument
Yesterday we attended a jazz concert at East Stroudsburg University. I was lucky enough to take classes in the same hall and have always loved the venue. The show featured the music of the Big Band Era as well as other various pieces spanning quite a few decades. It seemed like a nice treat for my Dad but I will admit I loved the chance to show my children something new as well. They sat nicely through a two hour show and I think Ethan's short nap went unnoticed. We talked about the instruments and music as well as how truly lucky we are to live in such a culturally rich area. I appreciate the five minute drive and the five dollar ticket...trust me.
So far today this house has heard four different instruments play. There are several others just waiting to be picked up and loved. Today I got to try a new one! Now I'm a girl who loves the piano, has toughened up her fingers playing the guitar and has tinkered with the house's brass section. I also love percussion as much as the next guy. The woodwinds, however, are a mystery to me. Until today. I tried a clarinet for the first time. It took several tries and too many ugly little squeaks but I finally got a few notes out of it that didn't sound like I was hurting an animal. My dog disagrees.
So far today this house has heard four different instruments play. There are several others just waiting to be picked up and loved. Today I got to try a new one! Now I'm a girl who loves the piano, has toughened up her fingers playing the guitar and has tinkered with the house's brass section. I also love percussion as much as the next guy. The woodwinds, however, are a mystery to me. Until today. I tried a clarinet for the first time. It took several tries and too many ugly little squeaks but I finally got a few notes out of it that didn't sound like I was hurting an animal. My dog disagrees.
Spot an eagle in the wild
It was just another day of heading into town. The car startled a group of birds at their find and they flew by....crow, crow, eagle, crow. The moment of the realization of what we were witnessing will be unforgettable. It was majestic and glorious and all of the other appropriate words you would use to describe the bird that represents a nation. It perched upon the branch for what seemed like an eternity allowing marveling and photographs to happen. It was stunning and I didn't have to go to a nature preserve or a zoo to find it...it found us right there on Route 611.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Purchase Picardie Glasses
Most lame new thing ever? Perhaps, but I'm kind of excited. When I was little we traveled a bit. My Dad's job took us to a couple of cool places and one of them was a stay in North Carolina. While living in a hotel for weeks we did most of our dining out. I think the little restaurant adjacent to the place had these glasses. I seriously have loved this style glass for as long as I can remember. I googled them because I remembered their name from the nine million catalogs I have seen them in...all the biggies: Crate & Barrell, Williams - Sonoma, etc...
"The classic Picardie glass is "the ultimate drinking vessel created by man." First produced in France around 1927, the design and specification has remained virtually unchanged since Saint-Gobain introduced their patented glass tempering process to the Duralex company in 1939.
Since then this design classic has become celebrated as the quintessential French Bistro glass."
So as a grown-up I have wrapped my hand around many of these. Beer tastes better, water seems crisper and orange juice...mmmm mmmmm. I pick them up in whatever store I find them in, rave over how they are the perfect glass and then put them down and walk away. WHY? I don't really know but today while at Ikea I bit the bullet and purchased a dozen of them at a whopping 59¢ per glass. Will juice, soda, chocolate milk and iced tea taste better spilling into my mouth from a picardie tumbler...damn straight it will. Hey, maybe my thing for tomorrow will be to see how many different beverages I can drink out of my new tumblers!
"The classic Picardie glass is "the ultimate drinking vessel created by man." First produced in France around 1927, the design and specification has remained virtually unchanged since Saint-Gobain introduced their patented glass tempering process to the Duralex company in 1939.
Since then this design classic has become celebrated as the quintessential French Bistro glass."
So as a grown-up I have wrapped my hand around many of these. Beer tastes better, water seems crisper and orange juice...mmmm mmmmm. I pick them up in whatever store I find them in, rave over how they are the perfect glass and then put them down and walk away. WHY? I don't really know but today while at Ikea I bit the bullet and purchased a dozen of them at a whopping 59¢ per glass. Will juice, soda, chocolate milk and iced tea taste better spilling into my mouth from a picardie tumbler...damn straight it will. Hey, maybe my thing for tomorrow will be to see how many different beverages I can drink out of my new tumblers!
Friday, February 18, 2011
Eat a Twinkie
Yes folks - I kid you not... I have never had a Twinkie. My mother allowed few junk foods and that was never on the list. Sometime in high school I was informed by a health nut teacher that Twinkies contained whipped beef fat. That was all I needed to hear to confirm that I would never need to discover the spongy little cake. I have been proud of my denial of the ingestion of the product. I hadn't eaten McDonald's until I was in my 20's except for maybe one birthday party as a kid. I was a BK girl. Never had a bowl of Count Chocula, Lucky Charms nor Cookie Crisp. I couldn't have multi-colored marshmallow cereals. I ate things like bell peppers as a snack. Oh the horror. I'm not being snobby I swear. I love ring dings and devil dogs and dutch cocoa cookies. Haven't met a chocolate I am not friends with. I eat all sorts of crap, I do...and today I discovered the dessert with a shelf life of 20 years and frankly that is where it can stay!
BTW - the Twinkie inspiration started with the Blue Man Group and the ever so tricky search to find one in Tastycake territory only made it seem more desirable.
BTW - the Twinkie inspiration started with the Blue Man Group and the ever so tricky search to find one in Tastycake territory only made it seem more desirable.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Start a new addiction
I just realized that I started a new blog but my old blog needs a post for my new thing of the day. I have to blog about the new blog on my old blog. Are you following me? Inception vibe coming on..........NOW.
I read through my dashboard of stuff. People are inconsistent. That bugs me. I appreciate my pal who was posting in the wee hours of the morning. But these people lure us in with a blog and then leave us dangling. I was toying with the idea of a blog full of rants. My main blog has a specific goal and mission. I want to just be mad at times though. Jenne was kind enough to offer cookies crumbles...ya know, based on cookies sandwich. Clever, I know. So I start researching the names and they are all taken. Not only are they taken but to add insult to injury they are dusty old shriveled up blogs. One of them was from four years ago...c'mon now. So I searched and searched and found my new name with my new blog. Sure it seems self indulgent...but I think I have some time to make up for and I'm ok with it. Insert whisper here... (Actually, as I was making coffee I felt horrible about it and almost deleted the whole idea. Shhhh, don't tell the other blog but I'm a bit of a chicken. Precisely the reason I need to keep it). Back to bold and strong voice...so celebrate the little girl gone angry and let a chicken.... errrr, I mean CHICK get out her grrrrrrrrrr.
I read through my dashboard of stuff. People are inconsistent. That bugs me. I appreciate my pal who was posting in the wee hours of the morning. But these people lure us in with a blog and then leave us dangling. I was toying with the idea of a blog full of rants. My main blog has a specific goal and mission. I want to just be mad at times though. Jenne was kind enough to offer cookies crumbles...ya know, based on cookies sandwich. Clever, I know. So I start researching the names and they are all taken. Not only are they taken but to add insult to injury they are dusty old shriveled up blogs. One of them was from four years ago...c'mon now. So I searched and searched and found my new name with my new blog. Sure it seems self indulgent...but I think I have some time to make up for and I'm ok with it. Insert whisper here... (Actually, as I was making coffee I felt horrible about it and almost deleted the whole idea. Shhhh, don't tell the other blog but I'm a bit of a chicken. Precisely the reason I need to keep it). Back to bold and strong voice...so celebrate the little girl gone angry and let a chicken.... errrr, I mean CHICK get out her grrrrrrrrrr.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Peace in piecemeal
I swear my Mom is getting people to do stuff now. She has bugged me for years to learn to sew with her. Little projects here and there would pop up but we never really dug into anything. Many creative projects got the floor and life just got in the way. Back in the day she would sew pillows and drapes as a way to make money. Way back even further she made most of her own clothes. Sometimes it was out of necessity and others for enjoyment but regardless of the reason she was sewing.
Weeks ago I started working for a wonderful little company called Mudworks. I get to spend a few select hours a week with not only creative but damn hardworking people. They waste no time nor supply and the next new creative endeavor is always just around the corner. Most of the time it's made of clay. You name it...they seem to make it which leads to me wanting to buy it. I'm already working on the barter system and it's only been a short time. I have been excited to learn the ins and outs of clay ever since I first touched it over a decade ago. I am thrilled to be back to it again. BUT, they don't stop there...it's not their style. They make all sorts of cool things like purses, journals and bibs out of recycled material. Today I learned the beginning phases of that adorable little baby item, the bib. I will be able to do it at home which enables me to tend to my zoo if need be and get some cash (well, hopefully if I can refrain from falling in love with goodies). As I was handed the pins and the material I swear I heard my Mom snicker. I think the wonderful women I work with would've gotten along wonderfully with my mother. They are cut from the same cloth and now I will be cutting and trimming it...
Weeks ago I started working for a wonderful little company called Mudworks. I get to spend a few select hours a week with not only creative but damn hardworking people. They waste no time nor supply and the next new creative endeavor is always just around the corner. Most of the time it's made of clay. You name it...they seem to make it which leads to me wanting to buy it. I'm already working on the barter system and it's only been a short time. I have been excited to learn the ins and outs of clay ever since I first touched it over a decade ago. I am thrilled to be back to it again. BUT, they don't stop there...it's not their style. They make all sorts of cool things like purses, journals and bibs out of recycled material. Today I learned the beginning phases of that adorable little baby item, the bib. I will be able to do it at home which enables me to tend to my zoo if need be and get some cash (well, hopefully if I can refrain from falling in love with goodies). As I was handed the pins and the material I swear I heard my Mom snicker. I think the wonderful women I work with would've gotten along wonderfully with my mother. They are cut from the same cloth and now I will be cutting and trimming it...
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Help a man through the first Valentine's Day without his lovey.
My father left a little note for his wife every morning. Sometimes it was written in Italian. Other times it was written backwards so that she had to hold it up to a mirror for its message. He called each day during his lunch break so that they could hear each others voice. At 4:30pm my Mom and I would head down to the subway station and await the right pair of shoes descending down the steps...they led to a man thrilled to greet us. Smiles and hugs started off our evening. He would buy her flowers just because their beauty reminded him of her and not because he was in trouble. Sometimes flowers weren't enough and some random token of love would surprise her. This man raved over every single meal no matter how many she had prepared for him. She never touched a dish after dinner. He scrubbed them and put them away so the next day would be a fresh beginning for the family. He tucked in their child and read stories to her each night. That was daily life.
He supported every whim and hobby. Drove us to any restaurant or museum. Told her she was gorgeous. He danced with her often. Sometimes it was at a wedding, other times in the kitchen if the right song came on the radio. He never made fun of her fears as neurotic as they might have seemed. Her smile lit up his heart and her eyes softened his strength. Each day was a holiday. A gift not to be squandered. She knew she was loved always. I have witnessed all too many moments of them getting lost in each others gaze to not fully comprehend the levels of their love.
This seems easy enough for a year or two. Almost 40 years later...she still got random cards full of romantic words of love. If she had a craving he had his shoes on before her tongue licked her lips. Flowers and plants and orchids were still delivered to her nightstand often and just because. He still called her lovey.
A few years back he was in the hospital for a surgery. They were apart for a day or two and when he was finally able to talk on the phone to a woman too ill to come to the hospital the amount of crying overwhelmed me. Not from one or the other but from both. They were lost... while only a few miles away from one another and only for a short time. Some of you witnessed the sobs of a man who lost his sweetheart this past December. They were desperate pleas to return to his life. The cries were deep and tender and inconsolable.
Today I left a note to remind him of the day and its activities. I got him a card that made him tear up. I felt her whisper to me to not forget to salt the water for the pasta that would hold the bolognese whipped up from scratch. The chocolate covered strawberries were prepared. The grandchildren snuggled and hugged and giggled. The pooch sat adoringly by his feet. We had a beautiful meal on a bittersweet day. This day started with a breathtaking pink sky and ended with more love than this heart can contain. She was with us in spirit and inspired me to make sure all of those special people in my life knew the gift that they were to me.
Each day was Valentine's Day to a man who found his dear sweet Sally. Maybe he no longer has her here to celebrate the 14th of February but they were ahead of the game with how many special days of love they had together. They were the lucky ones who had quality and quantity even though at 84 and 75 it was still not enough. At the church the priest came over to a man lost in grief. My father said, "My Sally is gone" to which the priest replied, "Turn around and look at your family, your daughter, your grandchildren...she's not gone....she's right there". I think yesterday on a day made for lovers and mates, a day without his lovey...my Dad found a whole new batch of Valentines. xoxoxo
He supported every whim and hobby. Drove us to any restaurant or museum. Told her she was gorgeous. He danced with her often. Sometimes it was at a wedding, other times in the kitchen if the right song came on the radio. He never made fun of her fears as neurotic as they might have seemed. Her smile lit up his heart and her eyes softened his strength. Each day was a holiday. A gift not to be squandered. She knew she was loved always. I have witnessed all too many moments of them getting lost in each others gaze to not fully comprehend the levels of their love.
This seems easy enough for a year or two. Almost 40 years later...she still got random cards full of romantic words of love. If she had a craving he had his shoes on before her tongue licked her lips. Flowers and plants and orchids were still delivered to her nightstand often and just because. He still called her lovey.
A few years back he was in the hospital for a surgery. They were apart for a day or two and when he was finally able to talk on the phone to a woman too ill to come to the hospital the amount of crying overwhelmed me. Not from one or the other but from both. They were lost... while only a few miles away from one another and only for a short time. Some of you witnessed the sobs of a man who lost his sweetheart this past December. They were desperate pleas to return to his life. The cries were deep and tender and inconsolable.
Today I left a note to remind him of the day and its activities. I got him a card that made him tear up. I felt her whisper to me to not forget to salt the water for the pasta that would hold the bolognese whipped up from scratch. The chocolate covered strawberries were prepared. The grandchildren snuggled and hugged and giggled. The pooch sat adoringly by his feet. We had a beautiful meal on a bittersweet day. This day started with a breathtaking pink sky and ended with more love than this heart can contain. She was with us in spirit and inspired me to make sure all of those special people in my life knew the gift that they were to me.
Each day was Valentine's Day to a man who found his dear sweet Sally. Maybe he no longer has her here to celebrate the 14th of February but they were ahead of the game with how many special days of love they had together. They were the lucky ones who had quality and quantity even though at 84 and 75 it was still not enough. At the church the priest came over to a man lost in grief. My father said, "My Sally is gone" to which the priest replied, "Turn around and look at your family, your daughter, your grandchildren...she's not gone....she's right there". I think yesterday on a day made for lovers and mates, a day without his lovey...my Dad found a whole new batch of Valentines. xoxoxo
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Went all out Craft Mom for Emily's school Valentines!
I can be crafty. I am a great Mom. I am a darn good teacher. I can make a mean dinner. I am a caretaker. I can play with the dog. I can cross things off the TO DO list. What??? You want me to do them all in the same day??? Ha ha hah ahhah ahhah ha.
I just wrote a lengthy paragraph about my lack of time for creativity because of my life and its circumstances. I was whining. I will spare you. I wrote it to release it and then deleted it. You are welcome. Anyway.
Days ago I read a blog that reminded me about a craft project I always thought sounded awesome. We scoured the house for beat up crayons. I had the family sit around the table and peel them. There were actually moments of quiet during this as the blog post promised. I should send her flowers JUST for that feat! We broke them up and placed them into heart shaped baking cups. After a few minutes of melting and cooling you have a beautiful, multicolored "new" crayon. I found cute little plastic treat bags complete with hearts and shiny little twist ties. The Mad Lib valentines (pencil included) and a little crayon heart went into the bag. A tag that says, "You melt my heart and color my world" completed the package. Did it take hours? Yup. Did I relax on my Sunday afternoon? Eh. Were we all connected and really proud of the outcome? You betcha!!! Sure in prior years I just signed up for Craft Day or purchased store bought something or other...but this was the crafting Mom and Daughter afternoon I have always longed for. I'm not judging those of you who buy things because I have done that as well. But it was a bittersweet reminder that though things have changed in my life there are some sweet and new little morsels to savor and they weren't even made of chocolate!
I just wrote a lengthy paragraph about my lack of time for creativity because of my life and its circumstances. I was whining. I will spare you. I wrote it to release it and then deleted it. You are welcome. Anyway.
Days ago I read a blog that reminded me about a craft project I always thought sounded awesome. We scoured the house for beat up crayons. I had the family sit around the table and peel them. There were actually moments of quiet during this as the blog post promised. I should send her flowers JUST for that feat! We broke them up and placed them into heart shaped baking cups. After a few minutes of melting and cooling you have a beautiful, multicolored "new" crayon. I found cute little plastic treat bags complete with hearts and shiny little twist ties. The Mad Lib valentines (pencil included) and a little crayon heart went into the bag. A tag that says, "You melt my heart and color my world" completed the package. Did it take hours? Yup. Did I relax on my Sunday afternoon? Eh. Were we all connected and really proud of the outcome? You betcha!!! Sure in prior years I just signed up for Craft Day or purchased store bought something or other...but this was the crafting Mom and Daughter afternoon I have always longed for. I'm not judging those of you who buy things because I have done that as well. But it was a bittersweet reminder that though things have changed in my life there are some sweet and new little morsels to savor and they weren't even made of chocolate!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Blue Man Group
I was trying to figure out how to explain the 1 hr 45 min show and I came up with this statement...the closest you will get to being in a dream while awake. It was everything I had hoped for and then some. Emily was 3 when I showed her the funny blue heads in a tourist guide while on vacation. We had watched part of their show on PBS and we really wanted to see it live. You had to be at least 4 to attend the show. We have been waiting since then to go.
Let's rewind to this morning. I made sure we were all wearing blue. I offered to do Emily's nails and of course the shade had to match her shirt...blue again. On the way to the auditorium we snacked on blueberries and blue chips. I thought maybe she would start to connect the dots prior to the statement, "You have been surrounded by clues all morning". She squealed with excitement as she realized she would finally be seeing the show she had waited 6 years to see.
Obviously, the music was amazing. Sure the visual impact of it all was mind-blowing. Yep, the stunts were very cool. I had NO IDEA of how hysterical it would be...I was laughing with tears through almost the entire show. It's funny how marshmallows, PVC pipes and paint can take on a new life. We also saw Twinkies, drums and toilet paper differently. It wasn't just silliness though. They were sure to take a satirical poke at society's need to live through our phones and all of the apps that go with them. It was relevant and universal and brilliant. It stimulated the senses and took you on a wild ride.
The blue friends on the stage entertained us without uttering a word. They made us laugh and dance and clap just for the fun of it. They made us think and feel and ponder. It was nice to hear my children giggle. It was really fun to laugh that hard. Mostly, it was nice to feel a whole different kind of blue!
Let's rewind to this morning. I made sure we were all wearing blue. I offered to do Emily's nails and of course the shade had to match her shirt...blue again. On the way to the auditorium we snacked on blueberries and blue chips. I thought maybe she would start to connect the dots prior to the statement, "You have been surrounded by clues all morning". She squealed with excitement as she realized she would finally be seeing the show she had waited 6 years to see.
Obviously, the music was amazing. Sure the visual impact of it all was mind-blowing. Yep, the stunts were very cool. I had NO IDEA of how hysterical it would be...I was laughing with tears through almost the entire show. It's funny how marshmallows, PVC pipes and paint can take on a new life. We also saw Twinkies, drums and toilet paper differently. It wasn't just silliness though. They were sure to take a satirical poke at society's need to live through our phones and all of the apps that go with them. It was relevant and universal and brilliant. It stimulated the senses and took you on a wild ride.
The blue friends on the stage entertained us without uttering a word. They made us laugh and dance and clap just for the fun of it. They made us think and feel and ponder. It was nice to hear my children giggle. It was really fun to laugh that hard. Mostly, it was nice to feel a whole different kind of blue!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Superdog at Rudy's
I moved here in '90. I attended East Stroudsburg University for four years. Heck, I even dated a frat boy for a period of time. How did I NOT go to Rudy's??? I don't really know how that happened...but tonight 21 years later I had my first Super.
You locals know what a Super is don't ya? It's a perfectly cooked hot dog with bacon and cheese wrapped around it. Yep...simple as can be and utterly scrumptious. I had not one, but two. I was as bad as those New Yorkers who never made it to the city to eat a corned beef sandwich at Katz's....oh wait, I never did that either. Well, you get the idea. I now feel I am an official Burger since I finally had my Dog.
You locals know what a Super is don't ya? It's a perfectly cooked hot dog with bacon and cheese wrapped around it. Yep...simple as can be and utterly scrumptious. I had not one, but two. I was as bad as those New Yorkers who never made it to the city to eat a corned beef sandwich at Katz's....oh wait, I never did that either. Well, you get the idea. I now feel I am an official Burger since I finally had my Dog.
Pork with Pop at the diner for dinner
Let me start by saying my Dad doesn't eat the pork. He gets the same thing everywhere we go...chicken Caesar salad. Steakhouse, Irish Pub, chain, pasta restaurant, fast food joint....chicken Caesar salad. And he likes to crunch his croutons as loudly as possible just to tease us.
Now, if you're wondering why and how I chose this (because you already KNOW I enjoy the Thursday night pork special) it's because we never had it AT THE DINER. My Mom was the pork sammy loaded with gravy fanatic. If I needed a break from cooking and it was a Thursday I could lure her in with the promise of sticky white bread smothered in shredded pork roast and drowned in tan sludge. My Dad would run and get it. She wasn't able to go out the way she had grown so accustomed and it made her sad quite often. So styrofoam was unloaded and we made it work.
So on this particular Thursday we headed right to the source. A funny little diner with an always interesting crowd. Pop got his salad. Pop crunched his croutons. After a few minutes he hiccuped (I refuse to spell it the other way). That got me to smile. They are rare...only come in 3s and are hysterical to me. The second one got the giggles going. By the third and a few of his head shakes...I was off and crying. Tears streaming down my face....NOW ALL THINGS WERE FUNNY. The lady's hair, the burp from the guy at the next table...you name it. I went with it though because I honestly could NOT remember the last time I laughed like that. It was a daily occurrence in my old life. My friends and family had grown quite familiar with the teary eyed laughing fits. I've often said, "Life just amuses me so". I think it was some sort of release for me. I have been walking busily through my days distracted not to succumb to the flood that might just occur if I should give in to the feeling of needing to cry. These tears were from laughter but I couldn't help but wonder if a few sad ones found it as an escape route as well. I was laughing alone which doesn't bother me. I did have flashbacks though of the hundreds of giggle fits I had with my parents...didn't matter the age. We found things fun and funny and celebrated them with laughter. I could have sold tickets to the annual Pop laugh out...it was quite the sight to behold. Ironically, as I sit here typing about laughter the tears have found their freedom. I can't end this on a sad note...not my style...so here comes the best giggle story of them all and it has nothing to do with pork.
I was about 10 or so. Mom had one of her zillion doctor appointments for one of her gajillion illnesses. We headed to the city to find some odd building with a specialist. The waiting room was stark and white and silent. No magazines, no television, no nothing. Just a few chairs and an odd folding table and two curly haired goobers. We sat there for a bit quietly. I looked at the tall buildings through the window and listened to the church bells from across the way. Insert clock tick tock noises here. My Dad pulled out a pen and started to fiddle with his finger. My Dad's hands are huge so I couldn't help but wonder what in the world he was doing. Putting his 4 fingers down and his middle finger, complete with smiley face UP....he began walking his "creature" around the table. He made odd grunting noises and made it dance and flip over and all sorts of other goofy things. Well....I still laugh when I think of it so I'm cracking up now. This went on till I could no longer breathe and incited one of his own rare laughing fits. We were loud. My mother from somewhere far down some hallway yelled, "Would you two knock it off!!!" which only made us giggle harder. For years that was his thing. "Do the dinosaur!!!" we would beg. Yet another lesson from the wonderful parents I was blessed with. Maybe it's why I don't believe in getting bored or letting time slip by. In any circumstance they made things interesting. Sometimes all it took was a cheap bic and a little imagination. Now, go draw 3 dots and a curve on your middle finger and make a kid (or adult) somewhere laugh. Don't forget the sound effects and dancing.
Now, if you're wondering why and how I chose this (because you already KNOW I enjoy the Thursday night pork special) it's because we never had it AT THE DINER. My Mom was the pork sammy loaded with gravy fanatic. If I needed a break from cooking and it was a Thursday I could lure her in with the promise of sticky white bread smothered in shredded pork roast and drowned in tan sludge. My Dad would run and get it. She wasn't able to go out the way she had grown so accustomed and it made her sad quite often. So styrofoam was unloaded and we made it work.
So on this particular Thursday we headed right to the source. A funny little diner with an always interesting crowd. Pop got his salad. Pop crunched his croutons. After a few minutes he hiccuped (I refuse to spell it the other way). That got me to smile. They are rare...only come in 3s and are hysterical to me. The second one got the giggles going. By the third and a few of his head shakes...I was off and crying. Tears streaming down my face....NOW ALL THINGS WERE FUNNY. The lady's hair, the burp from the guy at the next table...you name it. I went with it though because I honestly could NOT remember the last time I laughed like that. It was a daily occurrence in my old life. My friends and family had grown quite familiar with the teary eyed laughing fits. I've often said, "Life just amuses me so". I think it was some sort of release for me. I have been walking busily through my days distracted not to succumb to the flood that might just occur if I should give in to the feeling of needing to cry. These tears were from laughter but I couldn't help but wonder if a few sad ones found it as an escape route as well. I was laughing alone which doesn't bother me. I did have flashbacks though of the hundreds of giggle fits I had with my parents...didn't matter the age. We found things fun and funny and celebrated them with laughter. I could have sold tickets to the annual Pop laugh out...it was quite the sight to behold. Ironically, as I sit here typing about laughter the tears have found their freedom. I can't end this on a sad note...not my style...so here comes the best giggle story of them all and it has nothing to do with pork.
I was about 10 or so. Mom had one of her zillion doctor appointments for one of her gajillion illnesses. We headed to the city to find some odd building with a specialist. The waiting room was stark and white and silent. No magazines, no television, no nothing. Just a few chairs and an odd folding table and two curly haired goobers. We sat there for a bit quietly. I looked at the tall buildings through the window and listened to the church bells from across the way. Insert clock tick tock noises here. My Dad pulled out a pen and started to fiddle with his finger. My Dad's hands are huge so I couldn't help but wonder what in the world he was doing. Putting his 4 fingers down and his middle finger, complete with smiley face UP....he began walking his "creature" around the table. He made odd grunting noises and made it dance and flip over and all sorts of other goofy things. Well....I still laugh when I think of it so I'm cracking up now. This went on till I could no longer breathe and incited one of his own rare laughing fits. We were loud. My mother from somewhere far down some hallway yelled, "Would you two knock it off!!!" which only made us giggle harder. For years that was his thing. "Do the dinosaur!!!" we would beg. Yet another lesson from the wonderful parents I was blessed with. Maybe it's why I don't believe in getting bored or letting time slip by. In any circumstance they made things interesting. Sometimes all it took was a cheap bic and a little imagination. Now, go draw 3 dots and a curve on your middle finger and make a kid (or adult) somewhere laugh. Don't forget the sound effects and dancing.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Post a random childlike poem on facebook inspired by the morning
Good morning! Usually these entries come much later in the day. I give myself time to let my spirit and the day unfold. As I sat up and stretched in the soon ending silence of my room I couldn't help but notice the gorgeous sky. Streaks of pink everywhere in a black and white world. The little poem popped into my head:
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
My two mommies at Panera
I went to lunch with my BFF and her little one today. We don't get to do this very often as our schedules and illnesses and snowstorms and tornadoes....well, you get the picture. We're busy. It was easy when Jenne and I worked full-time together and somehow didn't get enough of each other and had to hang out after work as well. It was slightly harder when there was one kid, a tad bit tougher after two and now with three it's a true conundrum.
Let's rewind a bit. When I came to work late because I was dry heaving for hours every morning...Jenne was the one who covered for me. As we walked about out in public she would walk a few paces in front of me with warnings of when to hold my breath for fear of an offensive odor evoking some more of those dry heaves. She yelled at me if I didn't drink enough water and guarded my sugar and caffeine ingestion. Oh, and did I mention she was even at the birth of baby number two. Needless to say, we are close. Closer than a sister. I say that because a sister is someone you are stuck being related to and Jenne has always been a choice. A sought out, missed when away from, one of my favorite people ever - CHOICE.
When two people bond over things like diabetes tests and sonogram results it is only natural to also be a part of the first steps, birthday celebrations, music recitals and trick-or-treating. For a bit there if you saw Jenne - you saw me and if you saw me - Jenne was a few paces behind. Usually, there was a kid or two in tow. It was at a rather comical Chuck E Cheese party when we realized people had been seeing a ton of us together. You can't miss us. We are the ones giggling until tears are flowing. We are busting out in accents, funny voices and hysterical faces. We dance, do the robot and fall. We drop things, never miss a funny sound and watch flying potatoes. We were tied to one another. People would watch us...not really sure of the relationship. We don't look like sisters. We were rarely with the boys. We were always together. We started to joke about "My Two Mommies". All joking aside if we looked like a happy loving family I didn't care what the old close minded folk thought...if anyone finds love and laughter in this world good for them!!!
It has been a bit since we've shared our my two mommies moments. But today during an impromptu lunch date we found ourselves in a booth at Panera with a yellow haired girl in her high chair. We giggled and shared stories. We listened to the whimsy of a 2 yr old. It felt nice to be back. Little Greta must have felt the love too as she started to hold my hand. Then her mother's. Then she placed our hands together and requested that we hold them. "And there it is...my two mommies". We laughed once again.
I would watch relationships that women had on television or in the movies. They could pop in at a moment's notice for coffee. They knew the ins and outs of their lives. They were there for births and deaths and all the precious and ordinary moments in between. I didn't think it was possible and am so very grateful to have it. I know not to serve cauliflower if she comes for dinner and she knows not to get me root beer to go with the popcorn we eat on tv night. She gets me to ride the Scrambler and I encourage her when she merges onto 80. We have been there for each other for things too heavy to mention in a little old blog post. I could go on and on about her but she's already probably mad for going on this long. So TO JENNE...a list of some of our favorite moments:
1. A smudge from a flying flip flop
2. Poetry stones
3. Dinosaur chairs
4. Ikea -"she needs ze bibs"
5. Flying potato
6. Mother Goose post potato
7. "I think Jenne just fell" DB
8. light ball
9. $7.13
10. "this tastes like steak"
Jenne, for all the times you helped me with my sandwich ( and I don't just mean my pork roll, egg and cheese) thank you. May every girl find a friend like you to grow up and old with...
Let's rewind a bit. When I came to work late because I was dry heaving for hours every morning...Jenne was the one who covered for me. As we walked about out in public she would walk a few paces in front of me with warnings of when to hold my breath for fear of an offensive odor evoking some more of those dry heaves. She yelled at me if I didn't drink enough water and guarded my sugar and caffeine ingestion. Oh, and did I mention she was even at the birth of baby number two. Needless to say, we are close. Closer than a sister. I say that because a sister is someone you are stuck being related to and Jenne has always been a choice. A sought out, missed when away from, one of my favorite people ever - CHOICE.
When two people bond over things like diabetes tests and sonogram results it is only natural to also be a part of the first steps, birthday celebrations, music recitals and trick-or-treating. For a bit there if you saw Jenne - you saw me and if you saw me - Jenne was a few paces behind. Usually, there was a kid or two in tow. It was at a rather comical Chuck E Cheese party when we realized people had been seeing a ton of us together. You can't miss us. We are the ones giggling until tears are flowing. We are busting out in accents, funny voices and hysterical faces. We dance, do the robot and fall. We drop things, never miss a funny sound and watch flying potatoes. We were tied to one another. People would watch us...not really sure of the relationship. We don't look like sisters. We were rarely with the boys. We were always together. We started to joke about "My Two Mommies". All joking aside if we looked like a happy loving family I didn't care what the old close minded folk thought...if anyone finds love and laughter in this world good for them!!!
It has been a bit since we've shared our my two mommies moments. But today during an impromptu lunch date we found ourselves in a booth at Panera with a yellow haired girl in her high chair. We giggled and shared stories. We listened to the whimsy of a 2 yr old. It felt nice to be back. Little Greta must have felt the love too as she started to hold my hand. Then her mother's. Then she placed our hands together and requested that we hold them. "And there it is...my two mommies". We laughed once again.
I would watch relationships that women had on television or in the movies. They could pop in at a moment's notice for coffee. They knew the ins and outs of their lives. They were there for births and deaths and all the precious and ordinary moments in between. I didn't think it was possible and am so very grateful to have it. I know not to serve cauliflower if she comes for dinner and she knows not to get me root beer to go with the popcorn we eat on tv night. She gets me to ride the Scrambler and I encourage her when she merges onto 80. We have been there for each other for things too heavy to mention in a little old blog post. I could go on and on about her but she's already probably mad for going on this long. So TO JENNE...a list of some of our favorite moments:
1. A smudge from a flying flip flop
2. Poetry stones
3. Dinosaur chairs
4. Ikea -"she needs ze bibs"
5. Flying potato
6. Mother Goose post potato
7. "I think Jenne just fell" DB
8. light ball
9. $7.13
10. "this tastes like steak"
Jenne, for all the times you helped me with my sandwich ( and I don't just mean my pork roll, egg and cheese) thank you. May every girl find a friend like you to grow up and old with...
Philly Auto Show
I have been to many an antique and classic car show but never the celebration of the new. It was crowded and energetic and the vibe was even better than I expected. The kids took turns being the "driver" as we jumped in and out of every vehicle without little velvet ropes or the such keeping us at bay. Sometimes I would linger in the passenger seat waiting for the next random child to pop in. I'd glance over at them and simply say, "Where we headed?" just to see the reaction I would get. One kid took me to Iowa and another to the moon. Mostly, the kids and I went to the beach especially when we overtook the bright yellow jeep.
Some cars made me sad. The idea of spending $175,000 on a box of metal with wheels just angered me. Quality parts, exceptional craftsmanship...yada, yada, yada...it still only drives you to the store not to Venus. Just seems odd when so many people with so little need so much. Other cars inspired me to be an idiot. When I hopped into the bright green little sporty thing I simply had to blast the radio to the point where I was vibrating in the seat. Ahhh, the car show. So many emotions so little time. It was fun to play pretend for an afternoon. It also made me think of my old collection of ladies:
1. Yellow Ford EXP - first piece of crap that I owned. It had no back seat just an odd metal bar across some black carpeting. People knew me for my car. Martians from outer space could spot me as well.
2. Maroon Cadillac Cimarron - second piece of semi-crap. Yes it was dubbed the housewives caddy and the fancy Cavalier but it was mine. She had a sun roof and leather seats and an Alpine stereo that might have caused some hearing loss during 1993.
3. Pontiac Sunfire in Raspberry Metallic - she was fresh from the showroom with 18 miles on the meter. She was never touched by another owner and we entered the grown up portion of life together.
4. Silver Pontiac Grand Am - spotted her in a little movie called Lethal Weapon and did indeed enjoy her as well. My first baby came home in her back seat.
5. Green Honda Pilot - it was the first year they produced this little SUV. This lady could fit 8 of us and we took it to maximum capacity every chance we could get.
6. Weird blue Honda Pilot - current buddy of mine just a tad bit newer than the first.
I have decided that for my mid-life crises I will go for a Jeep of some sort if my current life status allows. I couldn't help but to look back on my odd collection of ladies. I sold everything under the sun at a yard sale to buy the first. The college years and working 2-3 jobs at a time paid for my Caddy. I purchased my new car all on my own. They become a part of your history. Sometimes they are a reflection of who and what you are at the time...a dumb kid or a concerned mother. Sometimes they are just what was on the lot and cheap enough. They got me and countless friends where we needed to go. I got a breath of fresh air when I needed it (my therapy of the time), took my Mom on adventures for lunch, drove to new places and even lulled my babies to sleep. My next one will be for me. I have a rule that I can't own the same color more than once so that in itself will be quite the fun little challenge. You never know, I just might find that candy apple red classic mustang one of these days.
Some cars made me sad. The idea of spending $175,000 on a box of metal with wheels just angered me. Quality parts, exceptional craftsmanship...yada, yada, yada...it still only drives you to the store not to Venus. Just seems odd when so many people with so little need so much. Other cars inspired me to be an idiot. When I hopped into the bright green little sporty thing I simply had to blast the radio to the point where I was vibrating in the seat. Ahhh, the car show. So many emotions so little time. It was fun to play pretend for an afternoon. It also made me think of my old collection of ladies:
1. Yellow Ford EXP - first piece of crap that I owned. It had no back seat just an odd metal bar across some black carpeting. People knew me for my car. Martians from outer space could spot me as well.
2. Maroon Cadillac Cimarron - second piece of semi-crap. Yes it was dubbed the housewives caddy and the fancy Cavalier but it was mine. She had a sun roof and leather seats and an Alpine stereo that might have caused some hearing loss during 1993.
3. Pontiac Sunfire in Raspberry Metallic - she was fresh from the showroom with 18 miles on the meter. She was never touched by another owner and we entered the grown up portion of life together.
4. Silver Pontiac Grand Am - spotted her in a little movie called Lethal Weapon and did indeed enjoy her as well. My first baby came home in her back seat.
5. Green Honda Pilot - it was the first year they produced this little SUV. This lady could fit 8 of us and we took it to maximum capacity every chance we could get.
6. Weird blue Honda Pilot - current buddy of mine just a tad bit newer than the first.
I have decided that for my mid-life crises I will go for a Jeep of some sort if my current life status allows. I couldn't help but to look back on my odd collection of ladies. I sold everything under the sun at a yard sale to buy the first. The college years and working 2-3 jobs at a time paid for my Caddy. I purchased my new car all on my own. They become a part of your history. Sometimes they are a reflection of who and what you are at the time...a dumb kid or a concerned mother. Sometimes they are just what was on the lot and cheap enough. They got me and countless friends where we needed to go. I got a breath of fresh air when I needed it (my therapy of the time), took my Mom on adventures for lunch, drove to new places and even lulled my babies to sleep. My next one will be for me. I have a rule that I can't own the same color more than once so that in itself will be quite the fun little challenge. You never know, I just might find that candy apple red classic mustang one of these days.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Watch back to back British movies at the cinema on a cold, rainy day
After a quiet morning of me and my chores I couldn't help but wonder what to do. I was still getting over last night's traumatic thing of the day. It felt too soon for something else big. Rainy, dreary, grey gross days are not such good mood lifters. I ran for the weekend section of the paper. Not one but TWO of the movies I had hoped to see were playing at the local cinema. I have barely watched one movie without endless guilt...but TWO?!? Now you are talking crazy.
Another Year and The King's Speech were both wonderful films. They left me entertained, inspired and downright jolly. Between the weather and the accent I even pretended for a few moments that I was indeed in England and not just little East Stroudsburg. My accents are horrible and turn from English to Jamaican to gibberish but it doesn't stop me. Usually someone else has to.
I think back in my childhood days I MIGHT have been permitted to see a double feature just once and though I can't fully remember the movies I fear they had something to do with Rick Springfield, break dancing or ice pirates. I know for sure there were neither brilliant English accents nor Oscar buzz so I think I am safe in my theme for the day. Now forgive me for such a short post but I must get back to my tea and kipper snacks.
Another Year and The King's Speech were both wonderful films. They left me entertained, inspired and downright jolly. Between the weather and the accent I even pretended for a few moments that I was indeed in England and not just little East Stroudsburg. My accents are horrible and turn from English to Jamaican to gibberish but it doesn't stop me. Usually someone else has to.
I think back in my childhood days I MIGHT have been permitted to see a double feature just once and though I can't fully remember the movies I fear they had something to do with Rick Springfield, break dancing or ice pirates. I know for sure there were neither brilliant English accents nor Oscar buzz so I think I am safe in my theme for the day. Now forgive me for such a short post but I must get back to my tea and kipper snacks.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Delete my virtual farms
We had the power go out at my house a while back. When that happens we not only have no heat/air but we lose the water as well. It becomes tricky. My Mom called to report the outage and complain and I couldn't help but crack up as I heard her speaking of farmtown. I had joked with her just a bit earlier that my newly planted grapes would rot if nobody was there to harvest them. The power outage was taking out my bumper crop... forget that we would lose a fridge full of food.
It was that bad. I would time the plantings of seeds and the harvesting as well so as to optimize the crop production. I knew the busy times for getting hired and the tricks to get to the levels faster. I had friends that gave me work as far away as Singapore and England. I actually defended it once by saying it brought our huge world just a little bit closer...
Then the second farm came. It seems as if Farmville was a bit brighter and had cooler facilities. Don't think I didn't notice that the two farms began to compete. One was constantly trying to top the other and I profited from their battle. Flowers, animals, rivers full of fish, new tools to use and factories. Plus I got to hire workers and sell my crops and make sushi, apple pies and llama wool. Oh the endless possibilities.
I haven't been on either farm in months. Life just got too busy. They were sitting there neglected and sad. Heck, they still had their outdated decorations up. I never had the time to properly build my stables let alone grow the plots of land that I had. But they were there...if I needed them...they were there. I've been pondering the deletion for some time. I have dedicated farm buddies who still send me goodies and I have neglected them by not returning the favor. I AM SO SORRY for those of you waiting in vain for a brick, goose or fertilizer. Today was the day but it took me until almost midnight to gather the strength. My earlier attempt actually brought about a pain in my chest and some slight hyperventilation. Let me explain the process of my thinking before you feel I am lost forever...
The farm was a green patch of fresh new land. It started tiny and grew with time, devotion and work. My farm became the one place I had some power. I had COMPLETE control over it and I have to say at the time I had control over nothing in my life. I needed the farm. I would watch tv while doing it and was careful not to neglect real life. Constant overachievers typically get no down time. So my rationale was that in my down time I was actually being productive. Maybe I did not have a painting finished or a book read but damn, my farms had well fed livestock, happy farmers and I was loaded...a millionaire in fact! It was a wonderful distraction of what was going on around me. I looked forward to clean fields and selling bushels of fruit. I could be creative in my placement of things, meet people from all over the world and could see the fruits of my labor (had to go there).
Today as I tried to delete them and the panic set in I wondered what in the world was freaking me out. Go to the root, go to the root, go to the root. I would be erasing it all. All of that hard work, time and energy. The little animals would be abandoned. The factory workers would be unemployed. Oh come on now...it was fake! Then it hit me. I was erasing something I had done for a year or two. Countless hours were spent on those farms. My dedication, my creativity, my hard work all washed away with the click of a button. It was the option to have them there....that would be taken away. I can't go back and visit them. Avatars and animated donkeys broke my heart. The symbolism stirred and as it came to me in full force so did the tears. I was having trouble with a fake reality that took months to create - maybe that would explain the trouble of letting go of the REAL LIFE I seem to be having so much trouble releasing back into the universe. The life that has years and years of my blood, sweat and tears. I had to delete these farms to prove to myself that I had the ability to let go at all...of anything. I am terrified and saddened and I miss them already. I think I will make it though and maybe take this energy to plant some real seeds. I've been threatening a garden for years. For you farmers still producing honey, avocados and potato chips...DO NOT FEEL I AM JUDGING YOU. I understand it can JUST BE a fun game. We all have our time wasters. I am still your pal and will miss the surprise gifts sent to my farms. It is simply time to go.
Yours truly, Chrissyeehaw
It was that bad. I would time the plantings of seeds and the harvesting as well so as to optimize the crop production. I knew the busy times for getting hired and the tricks to get to the levels faster. I had friends that gave me work as far away as Singapore and England. I actually defended it once by saying it brought our huge world just a little bit closer...
Then the second farm came. It seems as if Farmville was a bit brighter and had cooler facilities. Don't think I didn't notice that the two farms began to compete. One was constantly trying to top the other and I profited from their battle. Flowers, animals, rivers full of fish, new tools to use and factories. Plus I got to hire workers and sell my crops and make sushi, apple pies and llama wool. Oh the endless possibilities.
I haven't been on either farm in months. Life just got too busy. They were sitting there neglected and sad. Heck, they still had their outdated decorations up. I never had the time to properly build my stables let alone grow the plots of land that I had. But they were there...if I needed them...they were there. I've been pondering the deletion for some time. I have dedicated farm buddies who still send me goodies and I have neglected them by not returning the favor. I AM SO SORRY for those of you waiting in vain for a brick, goose or fertilizer. Today was the day but it took me until almost midnight to gather the strength. My earlier attempt actually brought about a pain in my chest and some slight hyperventilation. Let me explain the process of my thinking before you feel I am lost forever...
The farm was a green patch of fresh new land. It started tiny and grew with time, devotion and work. My farm became the one place I had some power. I had COMPLETE control over it and I have to say at the time I had control over nothing in my life. I needed the farm. I would watch tv while doing it and was careful not to neglect real life. Constant overachievers typically get no down time. So my rationale was that in my down time I was actually being productive. Maybe I did not have a painting finished or a book read but damn, my farms had well fed livestock, happy farmers and I was loaded...a millionaire in fact! It was a wonderful distraction of what was going on around me. I looked forward to clean fields and selling bushels of fruit. I could be creative in my placement of things, meet people from all over the world and could see the fruits of my labor (had to go there).
Today as I tried to delete them and the panic set in I wondered what in the world was freaking me out. Go to the root, go to the root, go to the root. I would be erasing it all. All of that hard work, time and energy. The little animals would be abandoned. The factory workers would be unemployed. Oh come on now...it was fake! Then it hit me. I was erasing something I had done for a year or two. Countless hours were spent on those farms. My dedication, my creativity, my hard work all washed away with the click of a button. It was the option to have them there....that would be taken away. I can't go back and visit them. Avatars and animated donkeys broke my heart. The symbolism stirred and as it came to me in full force so did the tears. I was having trouble with a fake reality that took months to create - maybe that would explain the trouble of letting go of the REAL LIFE I seem to be having so much trouble releasing back into the universe. The life that has years and years of my blood, sweat and tears. I had to delete these farms to prove to myself that I had the ability to let go at all...of anything. I am terrified and saddened and I miss them already. I think I will make it though and maybe take this energy to plant some real seeds. I've been threatening a garden for years. For you farmers still producing honey, avocados and potato chips...DO NOT FEEL I AM JUDGING YOU. I understand it can JUST BE a fun game. We all have our time wasters. I am still your pal and will miss the surprise gifts sent to my farms. It is simply time to go.
Yours truly, Chrissyeehaw
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Take a journal to therapy
I love therapy. I feel as though it should be a law that all people attend a certain amount of sessions per year. Annually. Everyone has something that messes them up...big or small. We take vitamins, exercise, diet, etc but we leave the most complex part of our body, the brain a tad bit neglected.
I was able to talk to my Mom about some stuff but unfortunately a great deal of it turned into "it's all my fault isn't it?" and that was not usually even the case. My Dad doesn't understand anything at all upsetting people so it only goes so deep with him. I've lost my husband and friend of almost 18 years and it was hard enough to get him to stand in one place long enough to hear the whines before, so we know it ain't happening now. My friends are all in tricky places in their lives as well. It's hard to process the changes and losses without some support... so back to my beloved Patty I went after years of being on my own.
I run through my week. I figure and fix as I sit there rambling endlessly without judgments being thrown at me. I look to find the positive, I accept the real for what it is (or at least try) and I set goals for what I need to do next. I treat it as a To Do list for the spirit. What I have truly discovered in the past several months is that I need some sort of permission from people to do things. My Patty signs all of my mental permission slips. Yes, that is one of things I need to fix, I know.
This week I started to journal. I've never been good with them. I start them and they fizzle. If I bore myself enough to not want to read it over again in five years why bog someone else down? But it's different now. I have so many directions that I need to set the road map for the routes that I will be taking. I start off on Sarah Street and end up in Tahiti and that's no way to "fix" a brain. So now when a new feeling hits me or I pin down an old one I run to my green flowered journal and write. My arm will actually hurt because writing is so infrequent at this point in my life.
So today at my appointment I will carry my little book with me. I will read some entries and have a new tactic for deciphering this crazy series of synapses and wires. Maybe I'll be able to stick to one topic eventually or figure out what makes them all merge so mercilessly. Sometimes I might just read about the crazy dream I had the night before complete with rotting food on counters, poker games and tidal waves. In any event the journal is cute and if I bail yet again on the big blank book of pages at least I can rip out the few in the front and give it to my daughter for doodles. The important thing is that I never stop trying. I'm a mess, I'm real and I'm proud!!!
I was able to talk to my Mom about some stuff but unfortunately a great deal of it turned into "it's all my fault isn't it?" and that was not usually even the case. My Dad doesn't understand anything at all upsetting people so it only goes so deep with him. I've lost my husband and friend of almost 18 years and it was hard enough to get him to stand in one place long enough to hear the whines before, so we know it ain't happening now. My friends are all in tricky places in their lives as well. It's hard to process the changes and losses without some support... so back to my beloved Patty I went after years of being on my own.
I run through my week. I figure and fix as I sit there rambling endlessly without judgments being thrown at me. I look to find the positive, I accept the real for what it is (or at least try) and I set goals for what I need to do next. I treat it as a To Do list for the spirit. What I have truly discovered in the past several months is that I need some sort of permission from people to do things. My Patty signs all of my mental permission slips. Yes, that is one of things I need to fix, I know.
This week I started to journal. I've never been good with them. I start them and they fizzle. If I bore myself enough to not want to read it over again in five years why bog someone else down? But it's different now. I have so many directions that I need to set the road map for the routes that I will be taking. I start off on Sarah Street and end up in Tahiti and that's no way to "fix" a brain. So now when a new feeling hits me or I pin down an old one I run to my green flowered journal and write. My arm will actually hurt because writing is so infrequent at this point in my life.
So today at my appointment I will carry my little book with me. I will read some entries and have a new tactic for deciphering this crazy series of synapses and wires. Maybe I'll be able to stick to one topic eventually or figure out what makes them all merge so mercilessly. Sometimes I might just read about the crazy dream I had the night before complete with rotting food on counters, poker games and tidal waves. In any event the journal is cute and if I bail yet again on the big blank book of pages at least I can rip out the few in the front and give it to my daughter for doodles. The important thing is that I never stop trying. I'm a mess, I'm real and I'm proud!!!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Tackle the pile of catalogs in my Mom's name
Apparently my mother was into yoga, hiking, art, decorating and traveling. She liked American Girls, country furniture, polyester and jewelry. She got catalogs for old ladies, young kids, women and every pet under the sun. The more horrible the catalog the more issues of it we seemed to get. If you've ever witnessed the "getting of the mail" you too would know the horror I would experience at the thought of the the acres of trees taken out single handedly by my mother. Perhaps there will be a use for those hiking shoes, new bathing suits, art supplies or carpets. You never know when you will need huge J Lo style hoop earrings, bunion covers, hearth stew pot or crystal chandeliers. Quite possibly at the age of 75 you will decide to go on a safari to Africa, start growing vegetables or turn gay. One never knows. My Mom liked the ability to choose. She couldn't get out much and the catalogs validated that she was indeed still here...especially when there was a SALE. They were one of the windows to the outside world.
So no more guilt trips about the planet and how she was ruining it for her grandchildren. No more talks of the piles of piles of paper that contained everything that she just might need that day. I am emailing those companies and thanking them for their no longer necessary services. I have been at it for hours by the way. Ok, so a few might just make the cut...you never know when I might need reflexology gloves, night vision goggles or a new Women's P-EZ Travel Urinal.
So no more guilt trips about the planet and how she was ruining it for her grandchildren. No more talks of the piles of piles of paper that contained everything that she just might need that day. I am emailing those companies and thanking them for their no longer necessary services. I have been at it for hours by the way. Ok, so a few might just make the cut...you never know when I might need reflexology gloves, night vision goggles or a new Women's P-EZ Travel Urinal.
Make braised short ribs
I've heard of short ribs. I watch cooking shows and they seem to be a staple. Not so long ago to celebrate the baptism of my great niece we went out to an amazing restaurant. Braised short ribs over pasta have not left my head since. I kid not. Then a few weeks ago I captured a few minutes of a cooking show and there they were again whispering to me. So with the impending doom of a storm and a late night visit to the supermarket it hit me...MAKE SHORT RIBS!
Though they are actually quite simple to create the amount of time needed to make them becomes the challenge. Not so on a snow day! I had nowhere to rush off too and so my ingredients hit the Le Creuset with much vigor. The aromatics were just what the house needed on the cold and dreary day. I browned, chopped, simmered, braised and shredded. Hours later and with much salivation I poured the rich goodness over some pasta. It's always a bit sad when food is prepared for HOURS only to be devoured in minutes but this was worth it.
I cook all of the time. It's not always easy with this crew. I can make different meal components come out at the desired "ding" of the bell. I aim to balance textures, nutrients and even color. (My Mom taught me well). I do tend to follow recipes a little too strictly and I rarely make a dish out of inspiration. The new sometimes intimidates me. I went for it and it came out so good that I might actually take on some other new dishes. Maybe now Sally is whispering to me along with the short ribs.
Though they are actually quite simple to create the amount of time needed to make them becomes the challenge. Not so on a snow day! I had nowhere to rush off too and so my ingredients hit the Le Creuset with much vigor. The aromatics were just what the house needed on the cold and dreary day. I browned, chopped, simmered, braised and shredded. Hours later and with much salivation I poured the rich goodness over some pasta. It's always a bit sad when food is prepared for HOURS only to be devoured in minutes but this was worth it.
I cook all of the time. It's not always easy with this crew. I can make different meal components come out at the desired "ding" of the bell. I aim to balance textures, nutrients and even color. (My Mom taught me well). I do tend to follow recipes a little too strictly and I rarely make a dish out of inspiration. The new sometimes intimidates me. I went for it and it came out so good that I might actually take on some other new dishes. Maybe now Sally is whispering to me along with the short ribs.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Sledding party!
I am a city girl at heart. I have never really ridden a sled down a steep hill let alone a tube. I don't like the cold and I think snow is prettiest viewed from the window of my toasty house. I moved to this cold mountain region over half of my life ago hoping to fall in love with winter and all its escapades. I took skiing as a gym class while in college. I tried so hard to fall in love with the idea of the sport. When I was told to remove my earrings so as not to get frostbite on my ears I began to think I was pushing something unnatural. It doesn't stop me from trying though. Through the years I have built snowmen, had snowball fights, shoveled and scraped many a windshield. The photographs in magazines of snowy celebrations always intrigued me. Last night one came to life. A whole photo shoot of the beauty and magic of a winter's night.
The house matched any chalet that we could have driven hours to...the best part of the journey was its short distance of only a few minutes. The house was warm and not just in temperature. Pots full of chili and mugs full of cocoa started the night with excitement. The theme was carried out with the toasty bonfire blazing in the snow while large dogs played amongst the crowd. Hills were groomed for tubing and screams were giggled at as riders flew by at amazing speeds. We toasted marshmallows and ate grilled burgers. Woolen hats, gloves, scarves and boots made photographs with sleds suitable for any catalog or tourist brochure. I was told I had to ride the tube down the steep hill. I'll admit I was quite scared at the thought. I grabbed my tube and made the tricky ascent up the hill. It was one of those moments that define me. I let fear in way too often and this was my chance to miss a fun thrill or experience it for what it was....I took the leap and slid ever so quickly down the hill squealing the entire time.
It was a magical wintry night. Hospitable hosts made it absolutely wonderful. It was cold as proven by my crunchy nostrils but I didn't mind it. It was dark but the fire was gorgeous. It was late but none of us seemed to notice. It was the epitome of the image of winter in the Poconos I had always imagined and I have Croasdale to thank!!!
The house matched any chalet that we could have driven hours to...the best part of the journey was its short distance of only a few minutes. The house was warm and not just in temperature. Pots full of chili and mugs full of cocoa started the night with excitement. The theme was carried out with the toasty bonfire blazing in the snow while large dogs played amongst the crowd. Hills were groomed for tubing and screams were giggled at as riders flew by at amazing speeds. We toasted marshmallows and ate grilled burgers. Woolen hats, gloves, scarves and boots made photographs with sleds suitable for any catalog or tourist brochure. I was told I had to ride the tube down the steep hill. I'll admit I was quite scared at the thought. I grabbed my tube and made the tricky ascent up the hill. It was one of those moments that define me. I let fear in way too often and this was my chance to miss a fun thrill or experience it for what it was....I took the leap and slid ever so quickly down the hill squealing the entire time.
It was a magical wintry night. Hospitable hosts made it absolutely wonderful. It was cold as proven by my crunchy nostrils but I didn't mind it. It was dark but the fire was gorgeous. It was late but none of us seemed to notice. It was the epitome of the image of winter in the Poconos I had always imagined and I have Croasdale to thank!!!
Eat pizza at the White House
I know, it's crazy right?!? Pizza at the White House...what to wear, what to wear??? I actually purchased a new red turtleneck just for the event and if you've seen my collection of hole and stain ridden tops you know this to be an event in itself. It's not everyday you get to eat pizza at the White House. It was a very special occasion!
My nephew and niece were celebrating the third birthday of perhaps one of the cutest children ever born. We were very happy to be a part of it. The Valentine's theme only added to the feeling of love one gets while in their home. My tiny niece with her sweet red and pink dress was more adorable than ever. Foil hearts flowing in the breeze as well as chocolate strawberries and flowers at every turn made the coziest of houses even warmer.
The guests were ample as were the conversations. We discussed Philly sports, legal battles with power companies, the steel of Bethlehem, child rearing tactics and the usual banter of silly family stories. My Father sat back and took it all in. He would've missed this party to stay at home with Mom. The teary eyed old man looked very grateful as we said our goodbyes.
Now, why is it so odd to eat pizza at this house. Well, this is the couple I discuss Top Chef with as well as the latest tapas or amuse-bouche . There are menus at holiday feasts and themed take out nights and many a recipe sans meat paired with just the right wine. My niece is swamped with motherhood, teaching, studying, volunteering and various other facets of life. She tends to her family with the utmost of care and thoughtfulness. This year's Christmas gift to her husband was perhaps the most romantic gesture ever. Quality of life is of the utmost importance for this family...in everything they do. This party was a celebration of the things that count in life...family, friends, milestones and love. Maybe the meal was a scrumptious basil laden pizza and not a 15 ingredient recipe complete with a reduction and a foam but it meant more time to spend with the wonderful people that we went to visit. We felt full as we headed home on the chilly night but not just from the food in our bellies.
My nephew and niece were celebrating the third birthday of perhaps one of the cutest children ever born. We were very happy to be a part of it. The Valentine's theme only added to the feeling of love one gets while in their home. My tiny niece with her sweet red and pink dress was more adorable than ever. Foil hearts flowing in the breeze as well as chocolate strawberries and flowers at every turn made the coziest of houses even warmer.
The guests were ample as were the conversations. We discussed Philly sports, legal battles with power companies, the steel of Bethlehem, child rearing tactics and the usual banter of silly family stories. My Father sat back and took it all in. He would've missed this party to stay at home with Mom. The teary eyed old man looked very grateful as we said our goodbyes.
Now, why is it so odd to eat pizza at this house. Well, this is the couple I discuss Top Chef with as well as the latest tapas or amuse-bouche . There are menus at holiday feasts and themed take out nights and many a recipe sans meat paired with just the right wine. My niece is swamped with motherhood, teaching, studying, volunteering and various other facets of life. She tends to her family with the utmost of care and thoughtfulness. This year's Christmas gift to her husband was perhaps the most romantic gesture ever. Quality of life is of the utmost importance for this family...in everything they do. This party was a celebration of the things that count in life...family, friends, milestones and love. Maybe the meal was a scrumptious basil laden pizza and not a 15 ingredient recipe complete with a reduction and a foam but it meant more time to spend with the wonderful people that we went to visit. We felt full as we headed home on the chilly night but not just from the food in our bellies.
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