Another shameless plug for my Mom, who has finally seen fit to update her blog. It's about time already! Just kidding Mother ... You know I love you more than broccoli!
I bought a new CD at Wally World tonight, well actually two ... I let KC pick out a Disney channel music CD, for a first grade graduation surprise. Nights like tonight, remind me just how lucky I am, to have her as my daughter.
She really is such a special little girl, There's just something about her that can always make me smile. Tonight, she was such a goonie, dancing in the middle of the music aisle, not caring who could see or what they might think. Lord, the freedom of being 7 years old. I hope she never loses that kind of spontaneity and spunk ... What a precious treasure I have.
I'm listening to Sarah Brightman at the moment, my latest acquisition. I had previously found her quite by chance last year, tooling around Amazon.com and have been a fan ever since. (FYI: Some may recognize her name from the Phantom of the Opera cast list.) She's definitely not mainstream, but then again, I have a tendency to not like those artists who travel in crowded waters.
What I am, is a lover of different sounds, new interpretations on old ideas and lyrics that hold power behind their beauty. To me an album has to have heart, rather than just be a compilation of songs. It needs to grasp me, hold me in it's spell, sing to me with words that could be my own. It is every friend I have ever made and every love I have ever lost ... That my friends, is what good music is all about. Touching the part of your soul, you thought no one could ever dare to reach.
"I am dreaming a dream or this is Paradise and the Abode of Peace!" ~ Arabian Nights
(Quote, courtesy of the inside jacket cover of Sarah's CD entitled Harem.)
Jodi's graduation went well yesterday. There was just enough wind to keep the heat tolerable, the speakers kept it down to a 7 minute minimum and all in all, the ceremony commenced at a reasonable pace.
Despite our best attempts, we couldn't get enough people to participate in a spontaneous wave, as they called Jodi's name. We did however, manage to hoot and holler loud enough to cause some serious head turning. (Well hey, it's not everyday that your baby sister graduates high school.)
After the ceremony, we clambered down the old football stand and tried, through the massive throng of people to locate Jodi. A difficult task to be sure when she is as short as I am. To rectify the situation, I nudged my self-appointed future brother-in-law (Rob) and dared him to call Jodi's name into the crowd. (The man has absoutely no shame, which is why, he fits in pretty damn well, with our family.) It was an absolute hoot until he decided that yelling my name (first and last) was a lot more exciting. While it may have been funny, I didn't feel at all bad for punching him in the shoulder.
We then moved on to the video portion of the afternoon. I'm not sure who, but someone decided that giving Rob the video camera was a good idea. Pointing the thing directly in my face, he asked me if I had anything I would like to fess up to, in honor of Jodi's graduation. I considered it for a moment, but drew a blank, opting to just say how proud I was of her instead. Audrey went next, confessing her excitement that Jodi chose a college close to hers, because as she gushed, "You have good taste in clothes and now I can borrow them." Amy's turn came next, and never one to shy away from a camera, she smiled as she said, "No matter how old you get, you'll always be Spoofy to me."
Wanting to keep the video dedications interesting, we dared Rob once again. Although this time the objective was to go up to people he didn't know and ask them if they'd like to say a few words to Jodi, in honor of her graduation. For the most part, people were really swell about saying something nice, even if they hadn't a clue who we were or who she was. However, the absolute best message, came from the Valedictorian of her class, despite the fact that Jodi was a little bit horrified by our actions. Someday she'll be thanking us ...
Despite our best attempts, we couldn't get enough people to participate in a spontaneous wave, as they called Jodi's name. We did however, manage to hoot and holler loud enough to cause some serious head turning. (Well hey, it's not everyday that your baby sister graduates high school.)
After the ceremony, we clambered down the old football stand and tried, through the massive throng of people to locate Jodi. A difficult task to be sure when she is as short as I am. To rectify the situation, I nudged my self-appointed future brother-in-law (Rob) and dared him to call Jodi's name into the crowd. (The man has absoutely no shame, which is why, he fits in pretty damn well, with our family.) It was an absolute hoot until he decided that yelling my name (first and last) was a lot more exciting. While it may have been funny, I didn't feel at all bad for punching him in the shoulder.
We then moved on to the video portion of the afternoon. I'm not sure who, but someone decided that giving Rob the video camera was a good idea. Pointing the thing directly in my face, he asked me if I had anything I would like to fess up to, in honor of Jodi's graduation. I considered it for a moment, but drew a blank, opting to just say how proud I was of her instead. Audrey went next, confessing her excitement that Jodi chose a college close to hers, because as she gushed, "You have good taste in clothes and now I can borrow them." Amy's turn came next, and never one to shy away from a camera, she smiled as she said, "No matter how old you get, you'll always be Spoofy to me."
Wanting to keep the video dedications interesting, we dared Rob once again. Although this time the objective was to go up to people he didn't know and ask them if they'd like to say a few words to Jodi, in honor of her graduation. For the most part, people were really swell about saying something nice, even if they hadn't a clue who we were or who she was. However, the absolute best message, came from the Valedictorian of her class, despite the fact that Jodi was a little bit horrified by our actions. Someday she'll be thanking us ...
Despite my earlier fears, it looks like Jodi's Graduation Day is going to be a bright, sun shiny day. Still, I can't believe that this day has finally come. Wasn't it just yesterday, she was running around the house in diapers?
It's hard to imagine her anywhere but at home, and yet in just a few short months, she'll pack her bags and fly off to college. Another sister gone into the world, leaving her childhood roots behind her, as she searches for her own destiny.
Life is what dreams are made of ... and I couldn't be prouder of everything she's already accomplished.
Just remember little sister, that no matter where you go, home is only a phone call away.
Congratulations to the CLASS of 2003.
It's hard to imagine her anywhere but at home, and yet in just a few short months, she'll pack her bags and fly off to college. Another sister gone into the world, leaving her childhood roots behind her, as she searches for her own destiny.
Life is what dreams are made of ... and I couldn't be prouder of everything she's already accomplished.
Just remember little sister, that no matter where you go, home is only a phone call away.
Congratulations to the CLASS of 2003.
When you don't know where to start, you start in the middle ...
Everything bad happens in October, when leaves succumb to the insistence of the Northern winds and inside houses, people curl up in their winter robes. In the skies, streamline bodies of birds in flight, herald the signs of the first frost to come. The silence of the snow, falling soft on forests of evergreens, and cold against my cheek.
I could sit there for hours, on top of the old dog house, overlooking the pond. Lying back, as the night grew dark, to count the stars, wondering if the stars ever thought to look back at me. Sometimes, I'd pretend that I was a fairy princess and beneath the weeping willow was my home. Warm and toasty, I would curl up against the tree, pressing my back against its bark. "Goodnight tree.", I would say, watching through half closed eyes, her long tresses dancing against the wind, falling asleep in the gentle to and fro.
In the cold, my friends would come and keep me warm, gently nudging beside me while I slept. A silly picture beneath a tree, a sleeping child, a brandy colored dog, and a small flock of ducks who couldn't fly.
Eventually a voice would call me back, accompanied by a shrill whistle, to hurry myself home. From behind the branches, I could see the house, following the lights of movements from room to room. Quietly, I left my kingdom beneath the tree, trailing my way in the familiar steps that led to an outside door. "Come on girl." I said, patting the side pocket of my jeans, "Time to go."
Everything bad happens in October, when leaves succumb to the insistence of the Northern winds and inside houses, people curl up in their winter robes. In the skies, streamline bodies of birds in flight, herald the signs of the first frost to come. The silence of the snow, falling soft on forests of evergreens, and cold against my cheek.
I could sit there for hours, on top of the old dog house, overlooking the pond. Lying back, as the night grew dark, to count the stars, wondering if the stars ever thought to look back at me. Sometimes, I'd pretend that I was a fairy princess and beneath the weeping willow was my home. Warm and toasty, I would curl up against the tree, pressing my back against its bark. "Goodnight tree.", I would say, watching through half closed eyes, her long tresses dancing against the wind, falling asleep in the gentle to and fro.
In the cold, my friends would come and keep me warm, gently nudging beside me while I slept. A silly picture beneath a tree, a sleeping child, a brandy colored dog, and a small flock of ducks who couldn't fly.
Eventually a voice would call me back, accompanied by a shrill whistle, to hurry myself home. From behind the branches, I could see the house, following the lights of movements from room to room. Quietly, I left my kingdom beneath the tree, trailing my way in the familiar steps that led to an outside door. "Come on girl." I said, patting the side pocket of my jeans, "Time to go."
Oh no ... It's another one of those "Just Because" posts!
Just Because You Never Wanted to Know
(yet another list of useless though vital information by Stacey)
Top 5 Most Hated Vegetables (ranked in no certain order of yuckiness)
Brussell Sprouts (oh the horror!)
Lima Beans (say it ain't so)
Snow Peas (plenty of peas, not a lick of snow)
Broccoli (Spear me ... oh horrid pun)
Spinach (I volunteer PopEye for my share ... What the hell kind of name is PopEye? Where's a Mr. Magoo activist when you need one?)
Can anyone say fun with rhetorical statements?
Most hated sound in the entire world ... SLURPING! Slurpers are disgusting, they must be stopped!
Oh shite, Amy the eldest has IM'd me ... What could she want? Hmmm ... Interesting, evidently stepfather number 2 is attempting to call me ... This is like a first (in 2 years) ... Must be important. You all lucked out, I was just about to start blogging on about all the past pet hamsters I've ever owned ...
NWTLO is currently down for repairs. Please take a moment, check yourself and return to your normally scheduled blog.
Just Because You Never Wanted to Know
(yet another list of useless though vital information by Stacey)
Top 5 Most Hated Vegetables (ranked in no certain order of yuckiness)
Brussell Sprouts (oh the horror!)
Lima Beans (say it ain't so)
Snow Peas (plenty of peas, not a lick of snow)
Broccoli (Spear me ... oh horrid pun)
Spinach (I volunteer PopEye for my share ... What the hell kind of name is PopEye? Where's a Mr. Magoo activist when you need one?)
Can anyone say fun with rhetorical statements?
Most hated sound in the entire world ... SLURPING! Slurpers are disgusting, they must be stopped!
Oh shite, Amy the eldest has IM'd me ... What could she want? Hmmm ... Interesting, evidently stepfather number 2 is attempting to call me ... This is like a first (in 2 years) ... Must be important. You all lucked out, I was just about to start blogging on about all the past pet hamsters I've ever owned ...
NWTLO is currently down for repairs. Please take a moment, check yourself and return to your normally scheduled blog.
It's good to be back in business ...
I tried posting last night, but blogger was on the down and out, preparing for the new and improved blogger upgrade. A major crimp in my style, when I'm pretty consistent with posting on a daily basis. (Not counting vacations.)
Talk about having my own personal guilt-fest ... Anyhoo, I'm digging on the new look, despite my initial negative reaction to the change. What can I say, I'm a glass is half empty sort of girl, when it comes right down to it.
We've had three really beautiful days now, right in a row, and I for one, would like to say, how glad I am to be spending all my time in a windowless office. Believe it or not, sometimes it is better not to know what you are missing. I am sure that by this weekend however, I can count on the rain to return. Especially considering that Jodi graduates this weekend and the event is supposed to be held outside. Oh well, I'll keep my fingers crossed but I have low expectations ...
Speaking of low expectations, I had a thought yesterday that I thought was kind of funny, as in har har. I was flipping through the assorted channels on my television and for a (very) brief moment, I stopped on a major league baseball game. Personally, I find the whole hit and run premis of baseball tedious! I mean come on, who has time to hit the ball, run a few yards and then wait for some other schmuck to hit the damn thing so you can move a couple of more steps forward?
Heck, even in high school, I had this whole thing figured out, much to the chagrin of my gym teacher. I remember those days fondly ... I would be standing somewhere, way out far in the outfield, contemplating dandelions when occassionally the coaches yelling would pull me back to reality. "The ball! Stacey!", she'd yell, waving her arms around like a crazy person. It didn't take a rocket scientist, to know she wanted me to catch it. But self-preservation always won out in the end and the only place my mitt went, was over my head in the duck and cover position.
The problem with baseball, is that it takes up too much time. I mean, who has the patience to sit through all 9 innings? I myself, could be perfectly happy with 2 and a short drive home. I've even thought up slogans for possible, I hate baseball t-shirts ... For example,
"Please take me anywhere but to the ballgame." front side, and "Peanuts and crackerjacks are for fools." backside.
Which brings me to the whole point of this blasted baseball topic.
So there I was last night, watching a baseball team, who's team mascot shall remain anonymous, when a little burst of laughter escaped my lips. It seems there is a far more nefarious reason, as to why I dislike baseball, and the answer lies somewhere in the realm of post break up aggression.
So without further adieu, and because I need to go to work, I present you with the inner workings of my female mind and the number one reason baseball bothers me. It turned out to be quite a simple concept really ...
Break up with boyfriend = Hate his favorite baseball team (and take extreme joy whenever they get trounced.)
An even trade I am sure, and maybe even a little good for the soul.
I tried posting last night, but blogger was on the down and out, preparing for the new and improved blogger upgrade. A major crimp in my style, when I'm pretty consistent with posting on a daily basis. (Not counting vacations.)
Talk about having my own personal guilt-fest ... Anyhoo, I'm digging on the new look, despite my initial negative reaction to the change. What can I say, I'm a glass is half empty sort of girl, when it comes right down to it.
We've had three really beautiful days now, right in a row, and I for one, would like to say, how glad I am to be spending all my time in a windowless office. Believe it or not, sometimes it is better not to know what you are missing. I am sure that by this weekend however, I can count on the rain to return. Especially considering that Jodi graduates this weekend and the event is supposed to be held outside. Oh well, I'll keep my fingers crossed but I have low expectations ...
Speaking of low expectations, I had a thought yesterday that I thought was kind of funny, as in har har. I was flipping through the assorted channels on my television and for a (very) brief moment, I stopped on a major league baseball game. Personally, I find the whole hit and run premis of baseball tedious! I mean come on, who has time to hit the ball, run a few yards and then wait for some other schmuck to hit the damn thing so you can move a couple of more steps forward?
Heck, even in high school, I had this whole thing figured out, much to the chagrin of my gym teacher. I remember those days fondly ... I would be standing somewhere, way out far in the outfield, contemplating dandelions when occassionally the coaches yelling would pull me back to reality. "The ball! Stacey!", she'd yell, waving her arms around like a crazy person. It didn't take a rocket scientist, to know she wanted me to catch it. But self-preservation always won out in the end and the only place my mitt went, was over my head in the duck and cover position.
The problem with baseball, is that it takes up too much time. I mean, who has the patience to sit through all 9 innings? I myself, could be perfectly happy with 2 and a short drive home. I've even thought up slogans for possible, I hate baseball t-shirts ... For example,
"Please take me anywhere but to the ballgame." front side, and "Peanuts and crackerjacks are for fools." backside.
Which brings me to the whole point of this blasted baseball topic.
So there I was last night, watching a baseball team, who's team mascot shall remain anonymous, when a little burst of laughter escaped my lips. It seems there is a far more nefarious reason, as to why I dislike baseball, and the answer lies somewhere in the realm of post break up aggression.
So without further adieu, and because I need to go to work, I present you with the inner workings of my female mind and the number one reason baseball bothers me. It turned out to be quite a simple concept really ...
Break up with boyfriend = Hate his favorite baseball team (and take extreme joy whenever they get trounced.)
An even trade I am sure, and maybe even a little good for the soul.
So much for the FPP (Feline Protection Program) ... As of eight o'clock this evening, the cat was literally out of the bag, on my little townhouse secret. I should have known that sooner or later, the front bedroom window would lead to my undoing ... So now except for maybe #4, the entire complex knows about Emma, the renegade cat of TH2.
Sheila, my next door neighbor, was first to spot the little black furball, a revelation that was quickly followed with a knock on my door.
"You didn't tell me you had a cat!", she said, barely stopping for a breath before she rushed on to her next sentence, "You know how much I love cats. Where did you get her from? How long have you had her? What's her name? Is she declawed?"
Clamping my tongue down on the impulse to ask her if she needed a glass of water, I tried to respond to her questions in the order they were asked. "I got her from a shelter last November. Her name is Emma, after Jane Austin's Emma, which in fact is her whole name ... Emma Jane Austin (last, last name witheld). She's declawed." (Well, not really but I wasn't about to air all my dirty laundry. How could I explain that I didn't have the heart to have her toenails ranked out by their very tips!)
"She's beautiful," she said, "Is she all black? Is she good with KC? Aren't cats nice to have around? I have to keep the windows partially down because of the neighbor's dog. I'm worried he's going to rip them (being the cats) right out of the window ... He's so big."
(Today's Specials ... A lovely oxygen tank with a side of bottled water.)
"Yuppers," I nodded, "All black, I've always had black cats, I prefer them. She's great with KC too. KC could carry her around by the tail, and Emma wouldn't even notice ... Course if I tried that, it would be a different story altogether."
"So she's like KC's cat then?" she inquired, leaning against her broom, as I sat down on the front steps.
"Well, I suppose, yes and no ... When KC is at her Dad's for the weekend, Emma follows me around the house, like a baby in search of a bottle. But when Kate's home, she keeps a protective eye over her, even shuffling off to bed with KC, when she turns in for the night."
How sad I am, that I'm not even 30 and this is what my life has come to I thought. When the highlight of my night, is sitting outside on my front steps, discussing the fact that the only significant other in my life, happens to be a little black cat.
I made a mental note.
(Need to get out more, meet more people so as not to become freaky stay at home cat person who eats tuna fish sans mayo in the dark! (exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point) Must take this note seriously as fear that state of mental health is in jeopardy.)
On another note, which is actually another note (musical that is) ... I'm listening to Tori Amos's 1000 Oceans at the moment, a song that reminds me of an old friend, who dissed me completely, the last time I sent him an email. I'm tempted to fire him off an email right now, with a link to this site. Then maybe he would read this entry and feel mighty bad for not emailing me back in a timely fashion. If you happen to find yourself reading this Greg, I do expect an email sometime before the end of June! You don't have to be detailed, just say hi ...
These tears I've cried
I've cried, a thousand oceans
And if it seems, I'm floating ... in the darkness
Well, I can't believe, that I would keep
Keep you from flying ... and I would cry a thousand more
If that's what it takes, to sail you home
Sail you home ... Sail You Home.
I'm aware what the rules are
But you know that I will run
You know that I will follow you,
Over Sillbury Hill,
Through the solar fields
You know that I will, follow you ...
Sheila, my next door neighbor, was first to spot the little black furball, a revelation that was quickly followed with a knock on my door.
"You didn't tell me you had a cat!", she said, barely stopping for a breath before she rushed on to her next sentence, "You know how much I love cats. Where did you get her from? How long have you had her? What's her name? Is she declawed?"
Clamping my tongue down on the impulse to ask her if she needed a glass of water, I tried to respond to her questions in the order they were asked. "I got her from a shelter last November. Her name is Emma, after Jane Austin's Emma, which in fact is her whole name ... Emma Jane Austin (last, last name witheld). She's declawed." (Well, not really but I wasn't about to air all my dirty laundry. How could I explain that I didn't have the heart to have her toenails ranked out by their very tips!)
"She's beautiful," she said, "Is she all black? Is she good with KC? Aren't cats nice to have around? I have to keep the windows partially down because of the neighbor's dog. I'm worried he's going to rip them (being the cats) right out of the window ... He's so big."
(Today's Specials ... A lovely oxygen tank with a side of bottled water.)
"Yuppers," I nodded, "All black, I've always had black cats, I prefer them. She's great with KC too. KC could carry her around by the tail, and Emma wouldn't even notice ... Course if I tried that, it would be a different story altogether."
"So she's like KC's cat then?" she inquired, leaning against her broom, as I sat down on the front steps.
"Well, I suppose, yes and no ... When KC is at her Dad's for the weekend, Emma follows me around the house, like a baby in search of a bottle. But when Kate's home, she keeps a protective eye over her, even shuffling off to bed with KC, when she turns in for the night."
How sad I am, that I'm not even 30 and this is what my life has come to I thought. When the highlight of my night, is sitting outside on my front steps, discussing the fact that the only significant other in my life, happens to be a little black cat.
I made a mental note.
(Need to get out more, meet more people so as not to become freaky stay at home cat person who eats tuna fish sans mayo in the dark! (exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point) Must take this note seriously as fear that state of mental health is in jeopardy.)
On another note, which is actually another note (musical that is) ... I'm listening to Tori Amos's 1000 Oceans at the moment, a song that reminds me of an old friend, who dissed me completely, the last time I sent him an email. I'm tempted to fire him off an email right now, with a link to this site. Then maybe he would read this entry and feel mighty bad for not emailing me back in a timely fashion. If you happen to find yourself reading this Greg, I do expect an email sometime before the end of June! You don't have to be detailed, just say hi ...
These tears I've cried
I've cried, a thousand oceans
And if it seems, I'm floating ... in the darkness
Well, I can't believe, that I would keep
Keep you from flying ... and I would cry a thousand more
If that's what it takes, to sail you home
Sail you home ... Sail You Home.
I'm aware what the rules are
But you know that I will run
You know that I will follow you,
Over Sillbury Hill,
Through the solar fields
You know that I will, follow you ...
Watching the local news this morning, I pondered while eating my raisin bran, why adult cereals can't be more like kid cereals. When did it happen, that cereal companies came to the conclusion, that I was too old to enjoy the surprise at the bottom of the box, or rainbow colored marshmallows in fun shapes and sizes, to smile up at me, as I cradled them in my spoon. And how disappointed was I, when on the back of my box there wasn't a single word jumble or brain teasing maze to be found. The lack of marketing savvy for my cereal of choice, would suggest that I am a very boring person indeed, who cares not for the frivolities of life. A suggestion, which we all know, couldn't be farther from the truth! (Check out my archives, if you doubt me.)
Double toucan dammit!!!! I just lost about 20 minutes worth of good blogging thanks to this damn keyboard!!!! A certain minor child, decided she was going to sneak lemonade as she was tooling around on her gamesites earlier ... An infraction, which she knows is a major, big one when the crime is committed in close proximity to the computer ... 3 guesses on what is sticky now ...
I am so not in the mood for reblogging the lost information at this point. Who knows, maybe someday whatever it is I was ranting about, will make it into the archive of lost blogs. Until then ... Nanu, nanu.
Double toucan dammit!!!! I just lost about 20 minutes worth of good blogging thanks to this damn keyboard!!!! A certain minor child, decided she was going to sneak lemonade as she was tooling around on her gamesites earlier ... An infraction, which she knows is a major, big one when the crime is committed in close proximity to the computer ... 3 guesses on what is sticky now ...
I am so not in the mood for reblogging the lost information at this point. Who knows, maybe someday whatever it is I was ranting about, will make it into the archive of lost blogs. Until then ... Nanu, nanu.
It's raining, it's pouring, so much for sunshine this morning ...
Captain's Log
I live in fear of mutiny. The constant tapping against the window, an ever present sound to remind me of the dismal gray skies overhead and the rain that continues to fall and fall. There is a restlessness aboard our ship, that board games and the pages of a good book are no longer able to contain. The ever present boredom and the very proximity of our close quarters, has led us to turn on one another. I fear the worst is upon us, at the discovery that we are indeed, two french fries short of a happy meal and without any chocolate milk to tide us over in these uncertain times.
There is nothing we can do to fight the rain. Umbrellas have proven useless and rain slickers can only afford so much protection. Even the birds are at a loss, with the constant supply of worms being pulled to the surface, from the sodden mass of confusion they've wallowed in, these past 3 months. Curse you Mr. Weatherman, you evil villian you, curse you! Your predictions are proof indeed, that you are the criminal mastermind behind the disappearance of the sun, along with your evil sidekick Doppler. Do not think your crimes have gone unnoticed!
But we have a plan, a risky one at that, but a plan nonetheless. In the cover of night, we will blow up the giant Ducky Raft of Destruction and wage war against your cruel oppression. We will set sail up the Crick of Despair without a paddle and on to destiny, a bottle of RAIN-X by our side. It will be a hard battle, with you our formidable foe, but goodness will prevail and evil will be vanquished. We will rise from our semi-reclined positions and give thanks to the Sun of Summer Days. We will hold our vanilla cokes up high, singing our song of unity, as a big warm fuzzy outburst of handholding across the nation ensues. And then, into the quiet cold pool we will slip, back into the world of water, with the sun shining brightly overhead.
*********
And you thought boredom was a bad thing ....
Captain's Log
I live in fear of mutiny. The constant tapping against the window, an ever present sound to remind me of the dismal gray skies overhead and the rain that continues to fall and fall. There is a restlessness aboard our ship, that board games and the pages of a good book are no longer able to contain. The ever present boredom and the very proximity of our close quarters, has led us to turn on one another. I fear the worst is upon us, at the discovery that we are indeed, two french fries short of a happy meal and without any chocolate milk to tide us over in these uncertain times.
There is nothing we can do to fight the rain. Umbrellas have proven useless and rain slickers can only afford so much protection. Even the birds are at a loss, with the constant supply of worms being pulled to the surface, from the sodden mass of confusion they've wallowed in, these past 3 months. Curse you Mr. Weatherman, you evil villian you, curse you! Your predictions are proof indeed, that you are the criminal mastermind behind the disappearance of the sun, along with your evil sidekick Doppler. Do not think your crimes have gone unnoticed!
But we have a plan, a risky one at that, but a plan nonetheless. In the cover of night, we will blow up the giant Ducky Raft of Destruction and wage war against your cruel oppression. We will set sail up the Crick of Despair without a paddle and on to destiny, a bottle of RAIN-X by our side. It will be a hard battle, with you our formidable foe, but goodness will prevail and evil will be vanquished. We will rise from our semi-reclined positions and give thanks to the Sun of Summer Days. We will hold our vanilla cokes up high, singing our song of unity, as a big warm fuzzy outburst of handholding across the nation ensues. And then, into the quiet cold pool we will slip, back into the world of water, with the sun shining brightly overhead.
*********
And you thought boredom was a bad thing ....
(Home sweet silent home.)
I need a favor and you are exactly the person who can help me out. Yes, I'm speaking to you. Don't bother trying to find someone else, in whatever room you're in. I'm looking at you and it's your help I'm looking for. Well, now that we've got that out of the way ...
Now that my feet are officially wet in the blogging pool, I'd really like to personalize my small bit of space with something that is a little more Stacey and a lot less premanufactured by someone else's wonderful, but used by everyone blogskin. I know exactly what it is that I want but it's the getting it, that is giving me problems. You see people, I have absolutely no knowledge when it comes to HTML code and all the other computer jazz you need to know in order to be completely original. This is where you come in ...
Since you're here, I have a strong suspicion that you too, are a blogger in your own right. It's for that very reason, that I'm coming to you for guidance. If you have any suggestions and/or reference books you would care to recommend on how a computer illiterate girl can learn HTML code and create a dazzling new skin, reflecting her true inner nature, please (and YES I AM BEGGING) email me at Stay247@aol.com. Let me be your good deed of the day ... Did I mention I am begging or is it obvious?
I need a favor and you are exactly the person who can help me out. Yes, I'm speaking to you. Don't bother trying to find someone else, in whatever room you're in. I'm looking at you and it's your help I'm looking for. Well, now that we've got that out of the way ...
Now that my feet are officially wet in the blogging pool, I'd really like to personalize my small bit of space with something that is a little more Stacey and a lot less premanufactured by someone else's wonderful, but used by everyone blogskin. I know exactly what it is that I want but it's the getting it, that is giving me problems. You see people, I have absolutely no knowledge when it comes to HTML code and all the other computer jazz you need to know in order to be completely original. This is where you come in ...
Since you're here, I have a strong suspicion that you too, are a blogger in your own right. It's for that very reason, that I'm coming to you for guidance. If you have any suggestions and/or reference books you would care to recommend on how a computer illiterate girl can learn HTML code and create a dazzling new skin, reflecting her true inner nature, please (and YES I AM BEGGING) email me at Stay247@aol.com. Let me be your good deed of the day ... Did I mention I am begging or is it obvious?
Never again. Not in a million hundred thousand years. Not for all the money in the world. Not for taking tea with the Queen of England herself. Never, never, never, again! KC's second sleepover, has quite made up my mind, that I will NEVER subject myself to this sort of self-induced torture again. May I step on a thousand pins and needles, if the thought even comes close to being considered in my mind.
What went wrong would be better served by asking what hasn't gone wrong. From the moment the car door closed to make the short 5 minute journey back to our home, the gloves came off and the two girls have been going rounds ever since. And here I had been so foolishly naive to think that they were friends. It's been she did that, she said this, she pinched me, she kicked me and I want to go home, since 6:00 last night. Of course, when one takes into account, that it was I, and not the girls, who shouted in the middle of my own living room, that I wanted to go home, it seemed a little bit odd, even to me. However, it provided just enough amusement for the girls to cool their jets off, if only for a brief few minutes, before it all started again.
Enter girl number three, from apartment number four, who at the same age as the other participants to this story, was invited by my daughter (prior to asking me) to spend the night as well. My mouth moved to say no, though the words that came out were anything but. "Sure." I said, "The more the merrier." Plastering a giant, I can't believe I actually just said that smile on my face, I welcomed the little girl into my home. As if I could say no, when she had looked at me as if all her hopes and dreams, were wrapped up with the excitement of spending the night sleeping on the floor of my domicile in KC's room. I might have wished myself a happy birthday, since it seemed sure, that if there really was a sucker born every minute, it most definitely was me that moment.
The night wasn't a total loss however, as I did at least, manage to score the phone number of a single, eligible male, in my immediate vicinity. Although in hindsight, since it was intended as a precautionary tool, in the case his daughter wanted to return home at 2 in the morning, I suppose it shouldn't be counted as a positive thing. It wasn't like, here's my phone number, call me sometime and we'll do lunch, but more like, you're loonier than I thought, taking on three 7 year old girls by yourself, good luck, don't call me unless you absolutely have to.
Speaking of said male, he just knocked on my door, in search of his daughter. (One down, one to go.) I'm so glad I already took a shower this morning, although not so glad that I answered my door in my favorite pink princess pajama pants and with no make-up on! Well, there goes my reputation ...
We've got movie plans for this afternoon, so I suppose I should motivate myself for a public outing. Toodles all, I hope your day progresses much better than mine has started.
What went wrong would be better served by asking what hasn't gone wrong. From the moment the car door closed to make the short 5 minute journey back to our home, the gloves came off and the two girls have been going rounds ever since. And here I had been so foolishly naive to think that they were friends. It's been she did that, she said this, she pinched me, she kicked me and I want to go home, since 6:00 last night. Of course, when one takes into account, that it was I, and not the girls, who shouted in the middle of my own living room, that I wanted to go home, it seemed a little bit odd, even to me. However, it provided just enough amusement for the girls to cool their jets off, if only for a brief few minutes, before it all started again.
Enter girl number three, from apartment number four, who at the same age as the other participants to this story, was invited by my daughter (prior to asking me) to spend the night as well. My mouth moved to say no, though the words that came out were anything but. "Sure." I said, "The more the merrier." Plastering a giant, I can't believe I actually just said that smile on my face, I welcomed the little girl into my home. As if I could say no, when she had looked at me as if all her hopes and dreams, were wrapped up with the excitement of spending the night sleeping on the floor of my domicile in KC's room. I might have wished myself a happy birthday, since it seemed sure, that if there really was a sucker born every minute, it most definitely was me that moment.
The night wasn't a total loss however, as I did at least, manage to score the phone number of a single, eligible male, in my immediate vicinity. Although in hindsight, since it was intended as a precautionary tool, in the case his daughter wanted to return home at 2 in the morning, I suppose it shouldn't be counted as a positive thing. It wasn't like, here's my phone number, call me sometime and we'll do lunch, but more like, you're loonier than I thought, taking on three 7 year old girls by yourself, good luck, don't call me unless you absolutely have to.
Speaking of said male, he just knocked on my door, in search of his daughter. (One down, one to go.) I'm so glad I already took a shower this morning, although not so glad that I answered my door in my favorite pink princess pajama pants and with no make-up on! Well, there goes my reputation ...
We've got movie plans for this afternoon, so I suppose I should motivate myself for a public outing. Toodles all, I hope your day progresses much better than mine has started.
Something different this way comes. It's strange the effect music can have on your soul. The way a new sound, can cause your pulse to race, as the rhythm rolls around in your brain. Your body internalizes the beat, interpreting the music as motion, and you're moving as if you've never been anything but still. The music becomes you, as you become the music.
In your soul, you've hungered for your natural cadence, but you've always been scared to march to the beat of your own drummer. You've adopted Billboards best, as the background music to your life. You only hear the song in the way you think it was meant to be sung. Interpretation of content, is not meant for you to decide. You are a sponge seeking someone else's knowledge.
But in a quirk of fate, a CD left behind and a moment in which your heart opens itself for listening, the world is pushed from its axis, spinning you upside down. "What is this sound," you say to yourself, "What is this I'm hearing?" And you listen, uninterrupted as the beat flows freely in your veins, warming you to the very tips of your toes. You close your eyes, hear the clock ticking on the wall and realize you're home.
Today's advice ... Step out from your normal listening doldrums and treat yourself to some new sounds. It's amazing what happens with a little kick of inspiration.
In your soul, you've hungered for your natural cadence, but you've always been scared to march to the beat of your own drummer. You've adopted Billboards best, as the background music to your life. You only hear the song in the way you think it was meant to be sung. Interpretation of content, is not meant for you to decide. You are a sponge seeking someone else's knowledge.
But in a quirk of fate, a CD left behind and a moment in which your heart opens itself for listening, the world is pushed from its axis, spinning you upside down. "What is this sound," you say to yourself, "What is this I'm hearing?" And you listen, uninterrupted as the beat flows freely in your veins, warming you to the very tips of your toes. You close your eyes, hear the clock ticking on the wall and realize you're home.
Today's advice ... Step out from your normal listening doldrums and treat yourself to some new sounds. It's amazing what happens with a little kick of inspiration.
Good morning, Thursday morning. I'm awake, I'm refreshed and I'm ready to face the day. In other words, I am back to work, leaving my sickroom days behind me, as I head back into the grind. So much for getting used to owning my own time.
I am sure to be razzed today by my wonderful coworkers, who will without a doubt, make every effort to make my homecoming difficult. First it will be the guilt trip, of just how miserable their lives were at work, while I was gone. "You can't even imagine how busy we've been.", they will say, looking at me with scouring eyes, for signs of illness. Then it will be, "Sick? Yeah right ... Try something more like a vacation, while we've been working ourselves to the bone." But the crowning moment, of course will be, the large stack of whatever papers, that somewhere between Monday and Wednesday, they decided to leave on my desk, so that I'll end up doing as much work in the two days I'm back, as they did in the three days I was sick. It's all a viscious circle.
But I am to work and happy to be going. It is PAYDAY afterall.
I am sure to be razzed today by my wonderful coworkers, who will without a doubt, make every effort to make my homecoming difficult. First it will be the guilt trip, of just how miserable their lives were at work, while I was gone. "You can't even imagine how busy we've been.", they will say, looking at me with scouring eyes, for signs of illness. Then it will be, "Sick? Yeah right ... Try something more like a vacation, while we've been working ourselves to the bone." But the crowning moment, of course will be, the large stack of whatever papers, that somewhere between Monday and Wednesday, they decided to leave on my desk, so that I'll end up doing as much work in the two days I'm back, as they did in the three days I was sick. It's all a viscious circle.
But I am to work and happy to be going. It is PAYDAY afterall.
Well, I went to the dreaded Doctor today and have lived to tell the tale ... Unscathed and medicated to boot, I'm in much better spirits or so it seems. Of course, it could have something to do with finally getting a good nights sleep, on my new mattress and box spring. There's just one little (or should I say tall) problem ... Last night, I felt like a track and field star, running the routine for a pole vaulting exposition, just to get into my new bed. The damn thing is almost as tall as I am! Lucky for me, I recently invested in a step stool. Yeah baby, I got my money's worth on that one ...
I spent a good portion of my evening helping my Mother get situated with a blog all of her own. For now, she's using a prefabbed blogskin which will have to do ... Especially since between the two of us, neither of us know enough HTML crap, to be even slightly dangerous. I need to get one of those HTML for Dummies books ... Then it's only a matter of time before my genuis takes over the world. (Insert evil laugh here) Now that IS an interesting idea to ponder. Hmmmm ... Top Five anyone?
#1 First thing I would do away with is the 5 day work week. I think it would make more sense to knock it back to 2. That way, we would have the optimum amount of rest required, to put in a productive day at the office. And all this without any cut to your current paycheck, as well as a stipulated 6 weeks of paid vacation every year.
#2 Affordable healthcare! After my little trip to the good doctor today, my wallet was $60.00 less than what I started with this morning. (Cost included visit and the prescription.) Can we say highway robbery, boys and girls? And the really scary part is, that I HAVE insurance and CAN cover the cost (although begrudgingly) without having to worry about eating tuna fish for dinner for an indefinite amount of time.
But low income familes, larger families and our senior population don't have the wherewithall to do the same, without suffering severe economic setbacks. Somebody please tell me, what is wrong with a country that STILL has yet to come up with a viable solution for its citizens. Come on George, tax cuts for the wealthiest one percent? Sounds more like thanks for nothing. (Wow, this is getting very political.)
#3 We got back to bartering chickens. Who the hell thought money was the better deal! (Remember people, chickens are multifaceted.)
#4 Disney gets their stuff together and initiates the following to be applied to all new movies ... 1. Stop killing off the Mother's. What does Disney have against Mom's anyway? Just to prove my point, I'll name a few motherless orphans ... Cinderella, Snow White, Bambi, The Little Mermaid, Jasmine from Aladdin, Jane from Tarzan, Pinocchio (wooden boys need Mom's too) and Belle from Beauty and the Beast. And you thought I was making all that up! 2. Female characters do a little ass kicking of their own and save themselves. (Have I mentioned that Mulan is my all time favorite! Bye bye Charming, bye bye Valient.) 3. And lastly, I've saved my biggest gripe for last. Besides Lion King (which in my opinion doesn't count), Disney has yet to produce a picture that features black characters in the leading story line. I can't imagine why it should be so, but there it is. Somebody in the Magic Kingdom needs to be getting on that.
#5 Men line up in droves just for an opportunity to take me on a date. What, I ask you, is the point of being in control of the world, if you can't tweak your social life?
I really ought to consider running for President someday ... But until then, let me give my Mom's NEW BLOG a plug. Check it out folks, I promise that once she gets over her initial shyness to blogging on the web, she'll be a site well worth reading.
I spent a good portion of my evening helping my Mother get situated with a blog all of her own. For now, she's using a prefabbed blogskin which will have to do ... Especially since between the two of us, neither of us know enough HTML crap, to be even slightly dangerous. I need to get one of those HTML for Dummies books ... Then it's only a matter of time before my genuis takes over the world. (Insert evil laugh here) Now that IS an interesting idea to ponder. Hmmmm ... Top Five anyone?
#1 First thing I would do away with is the 5 day work week. I think it would make more sense to knock it back to 2. That way, we would have the optimum amount of rest required, to put in a productive day at the office. And all this without any cut to your current paycheck, as well as a stipulated 6 weeks of paid vacation every year.
#2 Affordable healthcare! After my little trip to the good doctor today, my wallet was $60.00 less than what I started with this morning. (Cost included visit and the prescription.) Can we say highway robbery, boys and girls? And the really scary part is, that I HAVE insurance and CAN cover the cost (although begrudgingly) without having to worry about eating tuna fish for dinner for an indefinite amount of time.
But low income familes, larger families and our senior population don't have the wherewithall to do the same, without suffering severe economic setbacks. Somebody please tell me, what is wrong with a country that STILL has yet to come up with a viable solution for its citizens. Come on George, tax cuts for the wealthiest one percent? Sounds more like thanks for nothing. (Wow, this is getting very political.)
#3 We got back to bartering chickens. Who the hell thought money was the better deal! (Remember people, chickens are multifaceted.)
#4 Disney gets their stuff together and initiates the following to be applied to all new movies ... 1. Stop killing off the Mother's. What does Disney have against Mom's anyway? Just to prove my point, I'll name a few motherless orphans ... Cinderella, Snow White, Bambi, The Little Mermaid, Jasmine from Aladdin, Jane from Tarzan, Pinocchio (wooden boys need Mom's too) and Belle from Beauty and the Beast. And you thought I was making all that up! 2. Female characters do a little ass kicking of their own and save themselves. (Have I mentioned that Mulan is my all time favorite! Bye bye Charming, bye bye Valient.) 3. And lastly, I've saved my biggest gripe for last. Besides Lion King (which in my opinion doesn't count), Disney has yet to produce a picture that features black characters in the leading story line. I can't imagine why it should be so, but there it is. Somebody in the Magic Kingdom needs to be getting on that.
#5 Men line up in droves just for an opportunity to take me on a date. What, I ask you, is the point of being in control of the world, if you can't tweak your social life?
I really ought to consider running for President someday ... But until then, let me give my Mom's NEW BLOG a plug. Check it out folks, I promise that once she gets over her initial shyness to blogging on the web, she'll be a site well worth reading.
I have learned something of great value today, although the knowledge comes (of course) at my expense. When one is feeling sick, one should not attempt to play Super Cleaning Woman. One should relax, put her feet up, sip a cup of Earl Gray tea, and watch horribly bad talk shows, that try to figure out just who the Daddy is or isn't. One should not clean every room in her house just because the cleaning bug decided that after six months of trying, that today would be a good day to bite.
Not only do I feel much worse than I did this morning, but I am feeling so ILL now, that I have actually scheduled myself a Doctor's appointment for tomorrow! That in itself is derserving an exclamation point, since I can count the number of times I've been to the doctor in the past 7 years on one hand. I do not like them Sam I am. But it's either that or feel rotten for an indefinite amount of time. I'll take door number 2 Monty.
Blogging off and goodnite.
Not only do I feel much worse than I did this morning, but I am feeling so ILL now, that I have actually scheduled myself a Doctor's appointment for tomorrow! That in itself is derserving an exclamation point, since I can count the number of times I've been to the doctor in the past 7 years on one hand. I do not like them Sam I am. But it's either that or feel rotten for an indefinite amount of time. I'll take door number 2 Monty.
Blogging off and goodnite.
Day 2 of staying home from work ... I could kind of get used to this on an every day basis. But, tomorrow the brief respite comes to an end. I do after all, need to get back in the swing sometime and since Wednesday is basically a Monday, tomorrow seems like a good day to do it.
The most amazing thing is, that even as I nurse this cold, I have been able to catch up on a thousand or so household chores. Which excites me to no end, since this means, I might actually get to enjoy my weekend for once. Not to mention that I could let anyone, into any room of my house, and not have to cringe with embarassment. Where's a newspaper reporter when you need one.
I checked my statistics report for hits this morning, and would like to post yet ANOTHER REMINDER, for all the little horndogs searching for keyword "NAKED", that those kind of shenanigans will not be found around here. Puh-lease people ...
Well, I'm off to do some laundry, make my bed and whatever else comes to mind today.
The most amazing thing is, that even as I nurse this cold, I have been able to catch up on a thousand or so household chores. Which excites me to no end, since this means, I might actually get to enjoy my weekend for once. Not to mention that I could let anyone, into any room of my house, and not have to cringe with embarassment. Where's a newspaper reporter when you need one.
I checked my statistics report for hits this morning, and would like to post yet ANOTHER REMINDER, for all the little horndogs searching for keyword "NAKED", that those kind of shenanigans will not be found around here. Puh-lease people ...
Well, I'm off to do some laundry, make my bed and whatever else comes to mind today.
Even the best of intentions may sometimes go awry. Usually I do finish what I start (eventually), and I had planned yesterday to finish the FYII post, an indepth perspective of nature vs. nurture, and the affects of "everybody else is screwed up-ism", as it relates to my life ... BUT, it didn't happen, and most likely it won't happen today either. Welcome to today's Blog entitled, "Fanning the Flames of Disappointment", where nobody goes home happy.
Speaking of home, I'm not planning on leaving mine today. It may be Monday, but I decided that after losing my chance, once again, at winning over a million bucks with the state lottery, I am much too depressed to drag my sorry carcas into work. Now that I think about it, I may not go in tomorrow either.
OK, I have to be truthful ... I've actually got an appointment to be abducted by aliens today, but it's standing room only, so I have to make sure I'm available. And if you're still not buying 2 of my Top Ten Reasons Why I Am NOT Going to Work Today, then try this one on for size. I'm sicker than a dog, even though it's the middle of freaking June, (for Pete's sake) and as any Journal of American Colds and Sicknesses can prove, summer colds are far worse than winter colds. Why this is I don't know, it just is. Lord help a girl who suffers from post nasal drip.
So now I wait, until the time rolls around when I can call into work and break the hearts of my fellow co-workers with the knowledge, that I will indeed be absent today. I've got a little twinge of guilt playing hopskotch in the back of my mind, but as I'm sure I'll get over it, I'll heed Bobby McFerin's advice of "Don't Worry, Be Happy". Of course, my tag line will actually read, "I'm sicky, No worky ... Someone please call the blue folder customer on my desk and confirm his job with him ... Thank you, uh, thank you very much." (Elvis and Bobby McFerin, now that would have been an interesting combo ... Shake, fries and hamburger for free.)
Ugh, the nausea is kicking back in and I don't have any crackers, gingerale or a bowl of chicken noodle soup anywhere in sight! Woe is me ... I'm a complete baby when I'm feeling ill.
Speaking of home, I'm not planning on leaving mine today. It may be Monday, but I decided that after losing my chance, once again, at winning over a million bucks with the state lottery, I am much too depressed to drag my sorry carcas into work. Now that I think about it, I may not go in tomorrow either.
OK, I have to be truthful ... I've actually got an appointment to be abducted by aliens today, but it's standing room only, so I have to make sure I'm available. And if you're still not buying 2 of my Top Ten Reasons Why I Am NOT Going to Work Today, then try this one on for size. I'm sicker than a dog, even though it's the middle of freaking June, (for Pete's sake) and as any Journal of American Colds and Sicknesses can prove, summer colds are far worse than winter colds. Why this is I don't know, it just is. Lord help a girl who suffers from post nasal drip.
So now I wait, until the time rolls around when I can call into work and break the hearts of my fellow co-workers with the knowledge, that I will indeed be absent today. I've got a little twinge of guilt playing hopskotch in the back of my mind, but as I'm sure I'll get over it, I'll heed Bobby McFerin's advice of "Don't Worry, Be Happy". Of course, my tag line will actually read, "I'm sicky, No worky ... Someone please call the blue folder customer on my desk and confirm his job with him ... Thank you, uh, thank you very much." (Elvis and Bobby McFerin, now that would have been an interesting combo ... Shake, fries and hamburger for free.)
Ugh, the nausea is kicking back in and I don't have any crackers, gingerale or a bowl of chicken noodle soup anywhere in sight! Woe is me ... I'm a complete baby when I'm feeling ill.
The Formative Years
Part I
Growing up the daughter of a divorced home, I spent half my adolesent life believing I had been cheated from living the American Dream. Instead of a normal family life, I shuffled back and forth between two households, always unsure of what my position was in each. While all my normal friends did normal things with their families, I was always concerned with saying or doing the wrong thing. The type of little girl who cried when anyone else cried, I always worried that the adults were more sensitive to our situation than I was.
I was far from being the good daughter however, occasionally my good nature took a tumble, leaving a little grizzly bear in my place. My feelings were so easily hurt, that sometimes I imagined injury where there was none. Competition with my sister was fierce. I was the baby of both families, and expected all attention to be diverted to me, as I thought was my right. My older sister Amy unfortunately, was of a different opinion. Proclaiming then, as she still does, that our Father was "Her" Father and our Mother, was "My" Mother. She was Daddy's little girl, and darn me if I thought I was going to be even the smallest distraction to her title. Somehow we managed to cope, despite the constant battles for attention.
Weekends normally found us, ensconced within my Father's family home, where our grandparents only served to inforce the Principessa complex that seemed to come naturally to us both. With Daddy, we learned to appreciate good music. Often times jumping on his bed, with his stereo full blast, as we crooned into our microphones. Back then Billy Squier and Billy Joel were a couple of our favorites. Daddy had been in a band since before we were born, and both Amy and I were groupies to his rock star. Daddy always gave us the things that Mom never would. (A subject that to this day, still manages to burn my Mother just a little.) We spent the weekends playing in parks, chasing butterflies, and squeezing into his tiny Fiat for long car rides. Rides which my sister enjoyed far more than me. Being the smallest, I was often the one who got stuffed behind the front seat to ride like a sardine in his small can of a car. To this very day, I still am not too keen, on what I consider pointless joyrides to nowhere.
When the weekends ended, Daddy took us home and our weekly lives resumed. By the time I was four, Mother had remarried and Daddy Chick came into existance. Marrying in the living room, the younger version of myself, tried to halt the proceedings, by locking myself into my room, where I was purported to have played "The Eye of the Tiger" as loud as possible on my Strawberry Short Cake record player. The wedding despite my best laid plans went on without a hitch.
Daddy Chick was a loving but tough father. His household was not for the weak of heart or the open hand. If you wanted something, you were expected to work for it. There was no free ride for anyone, not even the baby. Chores were a daily thing, no matter how much you got done, it always seemed that there was more to do. With the passage of time, I became somewhat clever on how to weasel my way out of some of the more nondesirable chores. Time, I had figured, was the key element ... and if I wasted just enough of it, someone else would pick up my slack and do it for me. A trick that much to my chagrin, did not go unnoticed by anyone in my family and continues to haunt me to this day.
During this time, I learned a lot from Chick. I learned the joys of camping in real tents, canoeing on peaceful lakes, respecting the wilderness around me and how to be self sufficient. If we were his sons, he could not have taught us more. Yet within the teaching, every day life still brought problems to our home. Years passed, and we grew older. Amy's introduction to her teenage years brought confusion, intolerance and pain. In such a rigid household, Amy's new attitude did not go over well. "I want to go live with my Father!", she would scream, staring down my Mother, teenage hatred lighting a fire in her eyes. It was only a matter of time, before she finally got her wish, leaving me alone to cope with the disease that slowly began to invade our home.
When Amy left to live with Daddy, Daddy himself, had been remarried for a few years. My stepmother brought with her a much younger daughter of her own and soon after added yet another sister into the fold. I loved all my sisters just as much as I was jealous of all of them. Alone, I didn't have the solace of companionship to seek with my sisters. Amy, I had felt, had betrayed me and abandoned me, leaving me to suffer in a home intent upon collapsing in on itself. In a sense, I became an only child.
There is a reason why marriages don't last, but families must persevere. A connection once made, though severed, continues on for eternity, in bonds forged beyond blood. You don't spend 10 years calling someone Dad and then divorce him when you Mother does. It's not possible, even though I tried for the longest time. Consumed by bitterness, grief and confusion of my world turning upside down, I fought back this time with anger. I blamed Chick for everything that had ever gone wrong. I blamed him for yet another security net failing to catch me in the fall. The hottest anger often burns with the brightest love. For the next 4 years, I cut off all contact with my stepfather, as I presumed to go on with my life as normally as possible.
Enter Ken. My Mother's third and hopefully last husband. A good man, although a bit dated when it comes to old fashioned beliefs and opinions. It used to drive me nuts, when the phone would ring and ring and ring, and yet even though he was sitting right beside it, he would never answer it. In his mind, since it wasn't going to be for him, he was excluded from the answering. This and other oxymoron's in his character were enough to keep me hiding out in my room or finding some sort of trouble with Brenda. In the presence of new love, I often felt invisible.
Meanwhile, weekends at Dad's were becoming troublesome. Most of the time, I felt like a visitor in his home. Although he never intended me to feel that way, I felt much more comfortable next door at my Grandmother's house. Nonni always made room for me, as I was still her darling one. Every weekend, she would teach me something new to cook and then we would settle down to watch her favorite programs, ranging from Sunday morning Mass to WWF Wrestling. With Nonni, no matter what, you always knew that you were loved.
In 1993, I gradutated from high school and in the fall of that same year enrolled in a local community college. Brenda and I, were inseperable and so it came as no surprise that we decided to continue our education together. But schooling, it turned out was not for Brenda and by the end of the first year, she had no plans to continue on to the next semester. That fall, I moved into an apartment that I shared with 3 other girls. What I didn't know, was that the girl I was, would soon cease to be and a new woman would be left in her place. A place, where darkness was danger and trust no longer existed. One picture remains of that girl, doe eyed naive and innocent, taken on the very night she stopped from being. Safe on my mantle now, she is a constant reminder of what can be lost in the minute you forget to be aware.
There are certain things I associate with this time. Rain falling on October leaves, the soft yellow glow of streetlights, wet pavement and the sense that locks could not be counted on to keep all things out. I remember turning on my radio, seeking the comfort of a human voice, as I holed myself up in my empty apartment, and hearing the soft, haunting strains of "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas. All I was, was dust in the wind.
Part I
Growing up the daughter of a divorced home, I spent half my adolesent life believing I had been cheated from living the American Dream. Instead of a normal family life, I shuffled back and forth between two households, always unsure of what my position was in each. While all my normal friends did normal things with their families, I was always concerned with saying or doing the wrong thing. The type of little girl who cried when anyone else cried, I always worried that the adults were more sensitive to our situation than I was.
I was far from being the good daughter however, occasionally my good nature took a tumble, leaving a little grizzly bear in my place. My feelings were so easily hurt, that sometimes I imagined injury where there was none. Competition with my sister was fierce. I was the baby of both families, and expected all attention to be diverted to me, as I thought was my right. My older sister Amy unfortunately, was of a different opinion. Proclaiming then, as she still does, that our Father was "Her" Father and our Mother, was "My" Mother. She was Daddy's little girl, and darn me if I thought I was going to be even the smallest distraction to her title. Somehow we managed to cope, despite the constant battles for attention.
Weekends normally found us, ensconced within my Father's family home, where our grandparents only served to inforce the Principessa complex that seemed to come naturally to us both. With Daddy, we learned to appreciate good music. Often times jumping on his bed, with his stereo full blast, as we crooned into our microphones. Back then Billy Squier and Billy Joel were a couple of our favorites. Daddy had been in a band since before we were born, and both Amy and I were groupies to his rock star. Daddy always gave us the things that Mom never would. (A subject that to this day, still manages to burn my Mother just a little.) We spent the weekends playing in parks, chasing butterflies, and squeezing into his tiny Fiat for long car rides. Rides which my sister enjoyed far more than me. Being the smallest, I was often the one who got stuffed behind the front seat to ride like a sardine in his small can of a car. To this very day, I still am not too keen, on what I consider pointless joyrides to nowhere.
When the weekends ended, Daddy took us home and our weekly lives resumed. By the time I was four, Mother had remarried and Daddy Chick came into existance. Marrying in the living room, the younger version of myself, tried to halt the proceedings, by locking myself into my room, where I was purported to have played "The Eye of the Tiger" as loud as possible on my Strawberry Short Cake record player. The wedding despite my best laid plans went on without a hitch.
Daddy Chick was a loving but tough father. His household was not for the weak of heart or the open hand. If you wanted something, you were expected to work for it. There was no free ride for anyone, not even the baby. Chores were a daily thing, no matter how much you got done, it always seemed that there was more to do. With the passage of time, I became somewhat clever on how to weasel my way out of some of the more nondesirable chores. Time, I had figured, was the key element ... and if I wasted just enough of it, someone else would pick up my slack and do it for me. A trick that much to my chagrin, did not go unnoticed by anyone in my family and continues to haunt me to this day.
During this time, I learned a lot from Chick. I learned the joys of camping in real tents, canoeing on peaceful lakes, respecting the wilderness around me and how to be self sufficient. If we were his sons, he could not have taught us more. Yet within the teaching, every day life still brought problems to our home. Years passed, and we grew older. Amy's introduction to her teenage years brought confusion, intolerance and pain. In such a rigid household, Amy's new attitude did not go over well. "I want to go live with my Father!", she would scream, staring down my Mother, teenage hatred lighting a fire in her eyes. It was only a matter of time, before she finally got her wish, leaving me alone to cope with the disease that slowly began to invade our home.
When Amy left to live with Daddy, Daddy himself, had been remarried for a few years. My stepmother brought with her a much younger daughter of her own and soon after added yet another sister into the fold. I loved all my sisters just as much as I was jealous of all of them. Alone, I didn't have the solace of companionship to seek with my sisters. Amy, I had felt, had betrayed me and abandoned me, leaving me to suffer in a home intent upon collapsing in on itself. In a sense, I became an only child.
There is a reason why marriages don't last, but families must persevere. A connection once made, though severed, continues on for eternity, in bonds forged beyond blood. You don't spend 10 years calling someone Dad and then divorce him when you Mother does. It's not possible, even though I tried for the longest time. Consumed by bitterness, grief and confusion of my world turning upside down, I fought back this time with anger. I blamed Chick for everything that had ever gone wrong. I blamed him for yet another security net failing to catch me in the fall. The hottest anger often burns with the brightest love. For the next 4 years, I cut off all contact with my stepfather, as I presumed to go on with my life as normally as possible.
Enter Ken. My Mother's third and hopefully last husband. A good man, although a bit dated when it comes to old fashioned beliefs and opinions. It used to drive me nuts, when the phone would ring and ring and ring, and yet even though he was sitting right beside it, he would never answer it. In his mind, since it wasn't going to be for him, he was excluded from the answering. This and other oxymoron's in his character were enough to keep me hiding out in my room or finding some sort of trouble with Brenda. In the presence of new love, I often felt invisible.
Meanwhile, weekends at Dad's were becoming troublesome. Most of the time, I felt like a visitor in his home. Although he never intended me to feel that way, I felt much more comfortable next door at my Grandmother's house. Nonni always made room for me, as I was still her darling one. Every weekend, she would teach me something new to cook and then we would settle down to watch her favorite programs, ranging from Sunday morning Mass to WWF Wrestling. With Nonni, no matter what, you always knew that you were loved.
In 1993, I gradutated from high school and in the fall of that same year enrolled in a local community college. Brenda and I, were inseperable and so it came as no surprise that we decided to continue our education together. But schooling, it turned out was not for Brenda and by the end of the first year, she had no plans to continue on to the next semester. That fall, I moved into an apartment that I shared with 3 other girls. What I didn't know, was that the girl I was, would soon cease to be and a new woman would be left in her place. A place, where darkness was danger and trust no longer existed. One picture remains of that girl, doe eyed naive and innocent, taken on the very night she stopped from being. Safe on my mantle now, she is a constant reminder of what can be lost in the minute you forget to be aware.
There are certain things I associate with this time. Rain falling on October leaves, the soft yellow glow of streetlights, wet pavement and the sense that locks could not be counted on to keep all things out. I remember turning on my radio, seeking the comfort of a human voice, as I holed myself up in my empty apartment, and hearing the soft, haunting strains of "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas. All I was, was dust in the wind.
Another rainy Saturday morning. So much for seeing the sun this weekend. Oh well, in a way I suppose it's a good thing, since it will keep me to the task of getting KC's room clean today. A job which requires that she not be home for the weekend. That way I can actually get rid of something, without her running to the rescue, to save every toy she hasn't played with in over 3 years.
I've already been very productive this morning. Throwing in a load of wash, as well as running the dishwasher. My next plan of attack is to vacuum, but I need to wait a little bit longer, so as not to make too much noise before all my neighbors are awake for the day. I also need to make a list of things I need to get at the grocery, although I have noticed that the last few times I made my list, I either forgot it in my car or never even bothered to look at it. And of course, halfway back home, I realized I had forgotten something. Lord help a girl who loves to list, but never accomplishes her goals. You should see me at New Year's ...
Well, I'm bound to blog more later after my adventures in town. A good day to all.
I've already been very productive this morning. Throwing in a load of wash, as well as running the dishwasher. My next plan of attack is to vacuum, but I need to wait a little bit longer, so as not to make too much noise before all my neighbors are awake for the day. I also need to make a list of things I need to get at the grocery, although I have noticed that the last few times I made my list, I either forgot it in my car or never even bothered to look at it. And of course, halfway back home, I realized I had forgotten something. Lord help a girl who loves to list, but never accomplishes her goals. You should see me at New Year's ...
Well, I'm bound to blog more later after my adventures in town. A good day to all.
A little music, a little hot cocoa, a little peace and quiet, and things are falling right back into their normal routines. But tonight, that doesn't seem to be such a bad thing, to have the comfort of habit to snuggle up with, as the sun slips beneath the horizon. Like a warm, fuzzy afghan wrapped around your shoulders, as a summer storm pushes the branches of the trees outside, in a frenzy of motion. There's something to be said, for having some small spot to call your own, where even the most powerful forces of nature, have to knock before entering your door.
Tonight I am enjoying my cocoa, in the most ridiculously oversized coffee mug known to man. The kind more to resemble a watering trough than your average cup of joe. At the last moment, I even opted for the mini marshmallows to make my comfort in a cup complete. Let it never be said, that I do anything halfway.
As luck would have it, I have an interesting story to share from work today. One in which reminds me greatly of a line in "Dirty Dancing", when Johnny is teaching Baby how to dance and she keeps tripping over her own toes and onto his. "Look, spaghetti arms." he says, "This is my dance space. This is your dance space. I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine. You gotta hold the frame." A good lesson for all the touchy feely people of the world to take to heart, especially when they are the latest head sitting on top of the totem pole.
Which brings me to the subject of the FNG, which in the P-rated version of the acronym stands for Friendly New Guy and not the R-rated alternative I surely meant. It seems the latest member, of our ever so professional sales team, has a slight issue when it comes to recognizing the limitations of personal body space. All the women in the office have taken notice to his notice, of anything sporting the least little bit of cleavage. Now a sneak peek now and then isn't such a bad thing, lord knows I've checked out many a man's gluteus maximus. But a full out and out stare that reads like a full page add, stating your intentions to find any way possible to climb on in, beside the girls is a bit much.
But believe it or not, I am getting away from my story, where a simple folder drop off, turned out to be a very strange encounter. It all started in the data entry office, the precise moment in time when my back was turned to the door for just a second. Depositing my folders, in the bin designated for such a purpose, I turned myself around to leave, only to find myself face to face and quite literally chest to chest with the FNG, who in some bizarre game of let me see how jumpy you are, if I sneak up and scare you, was practically breathing down my neck. "Step back yo.", I thought to myself as I tried extracting myself from the claustrophobic position I found myself in.
Things went from bad to worse, as I realized that my left hand was in a very precarious position. "Aww man!" I groaned to myself, "Don't you dare move any closer!" As it was, my hand was already touching the fabric of clothing, that was not my own. He of course, giggled. (God save me from a man that giggles.) I didn't even bother to attempt to decipher what kind of giggle it was meant to be, as I stepped back and reclaimed my PBS (personal body space). "Nice going Doogie." I said, "If you're trying to give a girl a heart attack you're coming frightfully close."
For now, I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, that he's just trying to fit into the office with some hijinks of his own. However, another replay of today's scene and I can promise, that he and I, will be having an extremely well defined conversation regarding how close is too close. It may just start with a well placed heel on an unsuspecting toe ...
Tonight I am enjoying my cocoa, in the most ridiculously oversized coffee mug known to man. The kind more to resemble a watering trough than your average cup of joe. At the last moment, I even opted for the mini marshmallows to make my comfort in a cup complete. Let it never be said, that I do anything halfway.
As luck would have it, I have an interesting story to share from work today. One in which reminds me greatly of a line in "Dirty Dancing", when Johnny is teaching Baby how to dance and she keeps tripping over her own toes and onto his. "Look, spaghetti arms." he says, "This is my dance space. This is your dance space. I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine. You gotta hold the frame." A good lesson for all the touchy feely people of the world to take to heart, especially when they are the latest head sitting on top of the totem pole.
Which brings me to the subject of the FNG, which in the P-rated version of the acronym stands for Friendly New Guy and not the R-rated alternative I surely meant. It seems the latest member, of our ever so professional sales team, has a slight issue when it comes to recognizing the limitations of personal body space. All the women in the office have taken notice to his notice, of anything sporting the least little bit of cleavage. Now a sneak peek now and then isn't such a bad thing, lord knows I've checked out many a man's gluteus maximus. But a full out and out stare that reads like a full page add, stating your intentions to find any way possible to climb on in, beside the girls is a bit much.
But believe it or not, I am getting away from my story, where a simple folder drop off, turned out to be a very strange encounter. It all started in the data entry office, the precise moment in time when my back was turned to the door for just a second. Depositing my folders, in the bin designated for such a purpose, I turned myself around to leave, only to find myself face to face and quite literally chest to chest with the FNG, who in some bizarre game of let me see how jumpy you are, if I sneak up and scare you, was practically breathing down my neck. "Step back yo.", I thought to myself as I tried extracting myself from the claustrophobic position I found myself in.
Things went from bad to worse, as I realized that my left hand was in a very precarious position. "Aww man!" I groaned to myself, "Don't you dare move any closer!" As it was, my hand was already touching the fabric of clothing, that was not my own. He of course, giggled. (God save me from a man that giggles.) I didn't even bother to attempt to decipher what kind of giggle it was meant to be, as I stepped back and reclaimed my PBS (personal body space). "Nice going Doogie." I said, "If you're trying to give a girl a heart attack you're coming frightfully close."
For now, I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, that he's just trying to fit into the office with some hijinks of his own. However, another replay of today's scene and I can promise, that he and I, will be having an extremely well defined conversation regarding how close is too close. It may just start with a well placed heel on an unsuspecting toe ...
I feel so out of blog. Out of thoughts and out of steam. Funny, you'd think a vacation would have the opposite affect. But I'm as blue as a summer sky laden with rain clouds, now that Mother has returned home to North Carolina. There was just so little time to do everything I wanted to do while she was here. Things I wanted to talk about, that I never got around to saying and now that she's gone, I feel a little empty. As if part of me was on the plane that took her home. I guess I didn't realize how lonely I really am, coming home each night to just KC, a tempermental cat, and some aquarium fish. It's enough to make me cry.
But crying has never given me anything much more than a really bad headache, so I'm opting to hold off on the floodgates for now. Besides, the rain outside hasn't shown signs of stopping anytime soon, and I would hate to be responsible for flooding New York state. Maybe later I'll consider crying a small river.
"To a heart formed for friendship and affection the charms of solitude are very short-lived." ~ Fanny Burney, Cecilia (1782)
But crying has never given me anything much more than a really bad headache, so I'm opting to hold off on the floodgates for now. Besides, the rain outside hasn't shown signs of stopping anytime soon, and I would hate to be responsible for flooding New York state. Maybe later I'll consider crying a small river.
"To a heart formed for friendship and affection the charms of solitude are very short-lived." ~ Fanny Burney, Cecilia (1782)
Dang! What does it take to post a blog around here? I tried posting this morning, at an hour too early to mention, and I got absolutely nothing! Hold the phone, that is not exactly accurate ... What I did get was an error message, a really, really long error message that looked like it was code for "Get a life, you ain't blogging anytime today."
I started getting nervous, thinking that something had gone seriously wrong with Blogger and that NWTLO would be forever floating in limbo, somewhere out in cyber space, where I would never ever be able to post to it again. I was close to being distraught, wondering how or who I should contact, to let them know that I had a problem! Or as I am more prone to say, ISSUES and LOTS of them! It is however, amazing what a few hours away from home and computer can do for you. As you can see, most of my issues have worked themselves out ... OK ... Well, maybe a third of them, I was thinking a little bit positive there for a moment.
Anyhoo ... I went North this weekend, to visit my family in Glens Falls, which actually consisted of only seeing my Grandmother and much to my disappointment, none of my Uncles. C'est la vie, I suppose. My Grandmother on the other hand was enough to make me consider obtaining a drinking problem. It sounds horrible, I know, but trust me when I tell you that if you were to spend 10 minutes in her presence, you would know exactly what is it I am talking about. The woman is completely NUTS! Granted she is up there in the age department and entitled to a little insanity but something is oh so not right. (More on that later.)
I'm watching the Tony's right now or actually listening to them since I am busy typing away here, but God I love anything Broadway. I am my Mother's daughter, as well as a Bernadette Peters want to be. Lord, but that woman is talented!
Somebody find me a stage!
The night grows late and my hideous alarm clock has been set for a disgusting 5 a.m., so I am off to bed. As Tom Brokaw says, or at least I think I have the right newscaster, "Good evening and Goodnight".
I started getting nervous, thinking that something had gone seriously wrong with Blogger and that NWTLO would be forever floating in limbo, somewhere out in cyber space, where I would never ever be able to post to it again. I was close to being distraught, wondering how or who I should contact, to let them know that I had a problem! Or as I am more prone to say, ISSUES and LOTS of them! It is however, amazing what a few hours away from home and computer can do for you. As you can see, most of my issues have worked themselves out ... OK ... Well, maybe a third of them, I was thinking a little bit positive there for a moment.
Anyhoo ... I went North this weekend, to visit my family in Glens Falls, which actually consisted of only seeing my Grandmother and much to my disappointment, none of my Uncles. C'est la vie, I suppose. My Grandmother on the other hand was enough to make me consider obtaining a drinking problem. It sounds horrible, I know, but trust me when I tell you that if you were to spend 10 minutes in her presence, you would know exactly what is it I am talking about. The woman is completely NUTS! Granted she is up there in the age department and entitled to a little insanity but something is oh so not right. (More on that later.)
I'm watching the Tony's right now or actually listening to them since I am busy typing away here, but God I love anything Broadway. I am my Mother's daughter, as well as a Bernadette Peters want to be. Lord, but that woman is talented!
Somebody find me a stage!
The night grows late and my hideous alarm clock has been set for a disgusting 5 a.m., so I am off to bed. As Tom Brokaw says, or at least I think I have the right newscaster, "Good evening and Goodnight".
Oh happy, I don't have to go to work for the rest of the week day! Hallelujah and a big old high five for sleeping in! No alarm clocks, no early morning wake up calls, no running late for work ... Nothing but sleep, glorious sleep. Vacation is the chocolate chip cookie word of the English dictionary.
I was so worthless today ... Spending most of the day at work on the vacation countdown ... Only 7 more hours to go ... Only 6 more hours to go ... Only 5 more hours to go ... Which shows you just how productive I was in the office today, not one teeny little bit. I did however get hit on, (once again) by a customer who believes that his perserverence will someday win him the digits to my home phone number. I know it's not going to happen ... But I did egg him on, telling him he had to place much bigger orders, than the one he gave me today, if he hoped to earn bonus points for my number. Of course, I made him promise not to post it in the boys bathroom if he ever did figure it out. Still, if he were to get lumped over the head with a telephone directory, I doubt common sense would manage to weasel into his consciousness. Hello, information?
Mom and I are about to chill with a little tele, so I bid you all a fair evening. May your slumber be sound and your pillows fluffy.
I was so worthless today ... Spending most of the day at work on the vacation countdown ... Only 7 more hours to go ... Only 6 more hours to go ... Only 5 more hours to go ... Which shows you just how productive I was in the office today, not one teeny little bit. I did however get hit on, (once again) by a customer who believes that his perserverence will someday win him the digits to my home phone number. I know it's not going to happen ... But I did egg him on, telling him he had to place much bigger orders, than the one he gave me today, if he hoped to earn bonus points for my number. Of course, I made him promise not to post it in the boys bathroom if he ever did figure it out. Still, if he were to get lumped over the head with a telephone directory, I doubt common sense would manage to weasel into his consciousness. Hello, information?
Mom and I are about to chill with a little tele, so I bid you all a fair evening. May your slumber be sound and your pillows fluffy.
Another rainy day, has inspired me to post for your dining pleasure, a recipe guaranteed to impress guests or that "special someone" at your table. It's a lot of calories, so I don't advise making this one too often. However with a few minor adjustments, (cutting the oil and butter as much as you think you can get away with, without ruining the overall taste) you can make this a teeny little bit more healthy.
New York (Not the City) Style Chicken Riggies
You will NEED: (FYI: Prep your chicken and your FRESH veggies prior to cooking)
Cubed Chicken (as much as you like)
Fresh Garlic (as much as you like, I use a lot ... But then again, I'm Italian and I love garlic in just about everything and anything.)
1/2 cup oil
1 stick of butter
1/2 cup white cooking wine (Don't buy the cheap stuff!)
1 cup tomato sauce (or spaghetti sauce)
Hot Cherry Peppers (as much as you like) *You can replace with jalapenos if you prefer*
2 onions sliced
8 to 12 mushrooms sliced (if your mushrooms are pathetically small, double up on your quantity.)
Black pepper to taste
2 green peppers
Salt to taste
At least 16 oz. Romano cheese (The more the merrier.)
In a large skillet, sauté garlic in oil until soft.
Add chicken, mushrooms, onions, green peppers and hot peppers ... Cook until half-done.
Add the rest of the ingredients, cover and simmer for approximately 1/2 hour.
Keep checking and add more cheese if needed. It will make it taste great and soak up some of the oil and butter so it is not too greasy.
Mix together with cooked Rigatoni's (Riggies) and ENJOY.
To complete the dinner, I recommend a nice Ceasar salad, homemade garlic bread sprinkled with basil and romano cheese and a wine of your choosing. With a little candlelight and the soulful crooning of Luciano, make the night one to remember.
New York (Not the City) Style Chicken Riggies
You will NEED: (FYI: Prep your chicken and your FRESH veggies prior to cooking)
Cubed Chicken (as much as you like)
Fresh Garlic (as much as you like, I use a lot ... But then again, I'm Italian and I love garlic in just about everything and anything.)
1/2 cup oil
1 stick of butter
1/2 cup white cooking wine (Don't buy the cheap stuff!)
1 cup tomato sauce (or spaghetti sauce)
Hot Cherry Peppers (as much as you like) *You can replace with jalapenos if you prefer*
2 onions sliced
8 to 12 mushrooms sliced (if your mushrooms are pathetically small, double up on your quantity.)
Black pepper to taste
2 green peppers
Salt to taste
At least 16 oz. Romano cheese (The more the merrier.)
In a large skillet, sauté garlic in oil until soft.
Add chicken, mushrooms, onions, green peppers and hot peppers ... Cook until half-done.
Add the rest of the ingredients, cover and simmer for approximately 1/2 hour.
Keep checking and add more cheese if needed. It will make it taste great and soak up some of the oil and butter so it is not too greasy.
Mix together with cooked Rigatoni's (Riggies) and ENJOY.
To complete the dinner, I recommend a nice Ceasar salad, homemade garlic bread sprinkled with basil and romano cheese and a wine of your choosing. With a little candlelight and the soulful crooning of Luciano, make the night one to remember.
