Here I said
don't even let this go
and it's hey to that old man
I'm coming in the graveyard
with my little tune
it's June
I said she's gone
but I'm alive
I'm alive
I'm coming in the graveyard
to sing you to sleep
now. ~ Tori Amos
KC and I made a detour on our way home tonight, stopping by the cemetary to plant roses at Gramma's grave. It was so like me to just go with the moment, forgetting all the necessary garden equipment to make my task easier. A quick stop at a greenhouse, armed me with a bag of nutrient rich potting soil, a gallon of drinking water, and 3 baby rose bushes, ready to be planted.
I couldn't help but think how strange it is, planting flowers for the dead, when they're really meant for the living. But it makes me feel better, digging my hands down into the dirt and nurturing life to grow in her memory.
Still I miss her more than any words could hope to describe. If only I had had more time, maybe I could have found some peace with her passing. But I hold on to this bitterness, tasting my loss every day, reminded of what is missing, because I haven't found a way to let her go, without losing her forever.
2 a.m.
the sounds of an unfamiliar city.
I am remembering now,
having already forgotten the color of your eyes.
Yesterday I had the urge,
to lift the sheet back farther from your face,
to hold your hand in mine and
remember its shape,
so I will always know that ours are the same.
I wanted to count your toes,
I guess a reverse reaction from when you were born ...
But I didn't.
Instead goodbye came with a kiss
gently placed upon your brow,
as I stroked back your hair
still soft beneath my hand,
your skin grown cold beneath my lips.
~ Stacey
Network problems today had everyone in a tizzy at work. Lucky for me, my computer was running amok, only on the non-neccessity programs, leaving me in the clear to go about my daily grind. One would think that I had planned it all to work out that way, with the amount of whining my fellow staffers aimed in my direction. I don't think they were buying my "Some days you win, some days you lose." theory, although it was the perfect example of such a situation.
In fact, they got so cheeky, that every time I turned my back, someone else had made themselves at home at my desk. Frustrated, I started pacing the hall outside my office, waiting for my own computer to become available. It didn't help my mood much either, when instead of using my computer in a timely fashion, one of the jerks decided to start yakking away on a personal call! Turning red at this point, I pointed myself in the direction of Shirley's office, in full vent.
"I'm going to kill him and there's nothing that anyone can do to stop me!" I yelled, flouncing myself down, into one of the barrel chairs, in high dramatic fashion.
She hesistated a moment, tilting her head to make sure no one was listening at the door. "Kill who?", she whispered.
"Him!"
"Aahhh ..." she said, a little light bulb of recognition going off in here eyes. "What has the Prodigal Son done now?"
"I'll tell you what he's done ... He's taken over MY office, shoved all my things aside and made himself King of the Castle!". I took a quick breath, before continuing, "I've got 15 minutes before I go to lunch, 3 orders I need to Book so they can get TR'd, a guy with a problem only I can solve and no desk with a working computer to do any of it!"
"So tell him to move ..."
I gave her the yeah right, if only it were that easy look. "Already tried that," I said, "He suggested I borrow his desk ... With the non-working computer as if that would be really freaking helpful!"
"I don't know what to tell you kid. Guess you'll just have to wait him out."
"Oh hell with this!" I sighed in exasperation, "I'll just take my lunch now, and if I'm lucky, he'll be gone by the time I get back."
Leaving her to snicker in peace, I headed back to my own office. Boisterous boy, of course, was still there, leaning back in my chair, talking a mile a minute. He barely noticed my entrance, other than to give me the "I'm on the phone, you need to go away" look.
"Whatever," I said to myself, rolling my eyes. "Some people get to be important, others just like to pretend."
In fact, they got so cheeky, that every time I turned my back, someone else had made themselves at home at my desk. Frustrated, I started pacing the hall outside my office, waiting for my own computer to become available. It didn't help my mood much either, when instead of using my computer in a timely fashion, one of the jerks decided to start yakking away on a personal call! Turning red at this point, I pointed myself in the direction of Shirley's office, in full vent.
"I'm going to kill him and there's nothing that anyone can do to stop me!" I yelled, flouncing myself down, into one of the barrel chairs, in high dramatic fashion.
She hesistated a moment, tilting her head to make sure no one was listening at the door. "Kill who?", she whispered.
"Him!"
"Aahhh ..." she said, a little light bulb of recognition going off in here eyes. "What has the Prodigal Son done now?"
"I'll tell you what he's done ... He's taken over MY office, shoved all my things aside and made himself King of the Castle!". I took a quick breath, before continuing, "I've got 15 minutes before I go to lunch, 3 orders I need to Book so they can get TR'd, a guy with a problem only I can solve and no desk with a working computer to do any of it!"
"So tell him to move ..."
I gave her the yeah right, if only it were that easy look. "Already tried that," I said, "He suggested I borrow his desk ... With the non-working computer as if that would be really freaking helpful!"
"I don't know what to tell you kid. Guess you'll just have to wait him out."
"Oh hell with this!" I sighed in exasperation, "I'll just take my lunch now, and if I'm lucky, he'll be gone by the time I get back."
Leaving her to snicker in peace, I headed back to my own office. Boisterous boy, of course, was still there, leaning back in my chair, talking a mile a minute. He barely noticed my entrance, other than to give me the "I'm on the phone, you need to go away" look.
"Whatever," I said to myself, rolling my eyes. "Some people get to be important, others just like to pretend."
Ow, ow, ow ... Is it any big surprise that after a three day weekend, I find myself uttering those very words? Occasionally, I let my stupidity get the better of me and in this case, I have a very nasty sunburn to show for it. Silly me said no, when they were passing around the sunblock, because it's a known fact that "I don't burn, I tan ..." Evidently, I made that up as I quite resemble an overcooked lobster at the moment. Silly me ...
I'm calling an early night tonight, so I can lather myself up in the healing balm of Noxema. It'll be messy, but it's relief all the same.
Sunblock, have it ... wear it. 'Nough said.
I'm calling an early night tonight, so I can lather myself up in the healing balm of Noxema. It'll be messy, but it's relief all the same.
Sunblock, have it ... wear it. 'Nough said.
I just got done teaching KC the basics of Showering 101. It seems she wasn't paying attention the first time around, when we had this little conversation. That or the puddle, which happens to be the size of Lake Ontario, on my bathroom floor, was a figment of my imagination. The rules are like butter.
Step one, close curtain before turning the water on at full blast! Step two, remove any object which hinders taking a fully effective shower. (Including hair ties, hair twisties and random pretties.) Step three, use of soap is required contrary to the popular belief, that 7 year old children are excluded from the cleanliness clause, established a really long time ago.
The heat index level is already climbing into the unbearable. I can't believe I was really complaining about the rain just a short week or two ago. Heck with this, I'm female, I have the right to change my mind, and right now my mind is saying, I want the monsoons back!
But I am off for better things today. A stop at Barnes and Noble to pick up an eagerly anticipated summer frolic of a read and a detour to Brenda's, where I just might be tempted to wade in her three inch deep summer pool. (Kiddie pools, they aren't just for children anymore ...)
I think I'll take my Nikon N60 camera with me, and see if I can't snap a few shots of interest along my way there. You never know when you'll come across a kodak moment.
Step one, close curtain before turning the water on at full blast! Step two, remove any object which hinders taking a fully effective shower. (Including hair ties, hair twisties and random pretties.) Step three, use of soap is required contrary to the popular belief, that 7 year old children are excluded from the cleanliness clause, established a really long time ago.
The heat index level is already climbing into the unbearable. I can't believe I was really complaining about the rain just a short week or two ago. Heck with this, I'm female, I have the right to change my mind, and right now my mind is saying, I want the monsoons back!
But I am off for better things today. A stop at Barnes and Noble to pick up an eagerly anticipated summer frolic of a read and a detour to Brenda's, where I just might be tempted to wade in her three inch deep summer pool. (Kiddie pools, they aren't just for children anymore ...)
I think I'll take my Nikon N60 camera with me, and see if I can't snap a few shots of interest along my way there. You never know when you'll come across a kodak moment.
Happy 4th of July, despite the fact that I didn't see a single firework blazing across the night sky. Oh well, it's too damn hot anyway. I feel like the witch in the Wizard of Oz, as she sinks down into the floorboards, "I'm melting ... I'm melting."
Apartment 3 came home today with a brand new air conditioner. I wonder if they would notice, if I were to try to wiggle it out of their window and pop it into mine. Maybe I'll go over there later and explain the whole better to give than to keep for yourself philosophy. Of course, with the way my luck has been going lately, they probably won't even answer the door.
I think I'll go stick my head in the freezer for a few moments. Can we say "Hello frozen treats!"?
G'night to all and to all a G'night.
Apartment 3 came home today with a brand new air conditioner. I wonder if they would notice, if I were to try to wiggle it out of their window and pop it into mine. Maybe I'll go over there later and explain the whole better to give than to keep for yourself philosophy. Of course, with the way my luck has been going lately, they probably won't even answer the door.
I think I'll go stick my head in the freezer for a few moments. Can we say "Hello frozen treats!"?
G'night to all and to all a G'night.
Scattered like a thousand thoughts, set free to sail the wind. Standing still, as if to listen, in the middle of a room bustling with activity. Someone calls my name, "Where'd you go just now?" How to explain, being lost in just a moment. Being there but somewhere far away. Struck mute by a memory, cat's got my tongue, as if there are no words to say.
Old wounds, old haunts, old ghosts come back to call. Unwelcome, univited and still the visitor sits to make himself at home. How does one stare down a demon that can't be seen, the part of himself that he left with you. The presence that never goes away, lingering, waiting for your guard to slip, the opportunity to open.
Tired, the eyes begin to close, sooner or later giving in to the temptation to go to sleep and into dreams. Doors in dreams that can't be opened. Should I recognize this space, plastic on the windows, red clock beside the bed. Should I be here, somewhere on St. Vincent, somewhere with streetlights just outside? How is it the city can be so soundless, when I am anything but silent tonight.
You will remember, left behind in that little room, hands pressed against cold glass, looking out, looking in ...
Old wounds, old haunts, old ghosts come back to call. Unwelcome, univited and still the visitor sits to make himself at home. How does one stare down a demon that can't be seen, the part of himself that he left with you. The presence that never goes away, lingering, waiting for your guard to slip, the opportunity to open.
Tired, the eyes begin to close, sooner or later giving in to the temptation to go to sleep and into dreams. Doors in dreams that can't be opened. Should I recognize this space, plastic on the windows, red clock beside the bed. Should I be here, somewhere on St. Vincent, somewhere with streetlights just outside? How is it the city can be so soundless, when I am anything but silent tonight.
You will remember, left behind in that little room, hands pressed against cold glass, looking out, looking in ...
Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually have an agent. Although after my last performance, (rewinding back to about 5 minutes ago) I might want to think about hiring one ... I did after all, put on quite the show for my next door neighbors.
How was I to know that they were OUTSIDE, chilling on their porch, as I was locking down the house for the night ... Yeah, I know it was my fault, since normally, one would be wearing a shirt when standing in front of a glass door ... BUT in my defense, it is unnaturally hot for a summer night in New York state.
On the bright side, at least I've got the kind of blog, that actually lives up to its name ...
Now that I'm done flashing the neighbors, I think an early night is just what the doctor ordered, to calm my nerves from this very tedious day.
How was I to know that they were OUTSIDE, chilling on their porch, as I was locking down the house for the night ... Yeah, I know it was my fault, since normally, one would be wearing a shirt when standing in front of a glass door ... BUT in my defense, it is unnaturally hot for a summer night in New York state.
On the bright side, at least I've got the kind of blog, that actually lives up to its name ...
Now that I'm done flashing the neighbors, I think an early night is just what the doctor ordered, to calm my nerves from this very tedious day.
The next person who irritates me today, is going to wish they never got out of bed this morning! My list of demands are as follows ... I want an office, with no windows, no doors, no phones and not a single body, other than mine in it! I've had it! I've had it! I've had it! Grrrrrrrowl!
When did it become socially acceptable to trade simple pleasantires for stinging barbs? Instead of a friendly hello, and a good morning to you, you get your face ripped off before you even manage to hit the front door. Instead of "How was your day?", on arriving home, you get some nasty comment about taking your shoes off before entering the house because, praise the Lord, someone actually managed to figure out what a vacuum was! What the hell?? Did I have the look of a person who just walked through a pasture of cow shit?
Crap like this, gets my dander up! Rudeness by strangers is one thing, rudeness by family members, especially younger sisters, is quite another. And I have reached my maximum capacity level for the day!
I'm going to go find a cold beverage, relax in my favorite comfy chair and I'm not going to cook dinner, until I am damn good and ready! Anyone who has a problem with that, can just contact my agent!
When did it become socially acceptable to trade simple pleasantires for stinging barbs? Instead of a friendly hello, and a good morning to you, you get your face ripped off before you even manage to hit the front door. Instead of "How was your day?", on arriving home, you get some nasty comment about taking your shoes off before entering the house because, praise the Lord, someone actually managed to figure out what a vacuum was! What the hell?? Did I have the look of a person who just walked through a pasture of cow shit?
Crap like this, gets my dander up! Rudeness by strangers is one thing, rudeness by family members, especially younger sisters, is quite another. And I have reached my maximum capacity level for the day!
I'm going to go find a cold beverage, relax in my favorite comfy chair and I'm not going to cook dinner, until I am damn good and ready! Anyone who has a problem with that, can just contact my agent!
If I Wrote You
Dar Williams
I never thought you were the letter writing type
So now I see the words you chose the way you write
So I started to write back about the trees in the snow
And I saw a bird, couldn't see what it was but I thought you'd know
You always surprised me
And when the spring came and flooded all the streams
It's like how you got the night you told me all your dreams
And when the barn roof sagged after an icy bout
It's like how you got when you knew the truth was the only way out
But not the only way
And if I wrote you
If I wrote you
You would know me
And you would not write me again.
We drew our arms around the bastard sons
We never would drink to the chosen ones
Well you know the way I left was not the way I planned
But I thought the world needed love and a steady hand
So I'm steady now
And I'm so happy
I had to tell you
And I love you
And you will not write me again
You will not write me again
You will not write me again
I never seem to stray too far from the topic of love ... I guess the fear of impending spinsterhood can do that to a girl. The whole waiting for Mr. Right thing is ridiculous, especially when I'm more than willing to take Mr. GonnaHaveToDo. The only problem is, that neither guy, seems to be swimming in my particular circle of friends. So while there may be plenty of fish in the sea, it seems that none of them are biting.
Then there are those, who are firm believers, that love can be found with the simple click of the mouse. Try a dating site they say, what harm can it do? Well, let me count the tears ...
No good can come, from meeting a man over the computer. Right away you put yourself at a disadvantage ... Falling in love with words on a page, a mental image in your mind, and a dream of a love that will save you from your lonely nights. Except they don't tell you what to do, when the dream shatters, when your heart breaks and nobody, not even yourself, can begin to tell you how to fix it. I don't believe in it being better to have loved and lost, then never to have known love at all ... I'd much rather protect my heart, from an attachment doomed to fail.
These are lessons learned the hard way. I actually thought, that a computer flirtation, could be harmless. But then, what started out as simple fun, turned to friendship, and then to love. Of course, the love was almost all one sided. How easy it is, to hide behind a computer, where only your words, measure the sort of person that you are. In cyberspace, you can be anything or anyone, no one has to know, that you're really a weed, trying to impersonate a rose.
"O, what a tangled web we weave,/ When first we practice to deceive!"
Hell, even back then, Shakespheare knew the score. Knew of our internal attraction to the Masquerade Ball? Knew that a face behind a mask, was cause for intrique, a barrier between what was real and what was fantasy.
Don't we all pretend, at some point in our lives, that we are someone other than who we are? Someone more exciting, someone prettier, someone smarter? But what is love, if the very foundation it is built on, is a fortress of half truths and lies? The answer is absolutely nothing. You can neither breathe behind a mask or love from a distance. Sooner or later, you'll expose yourself, just to have a chance at true love. But, a truth told too late, is still a lie ...
So now I'm living my life, an unedited version of myself, putting things out there, speaking my mind, forcing honesty rather than censure. Telling the world, or anyone who happens to read my words, spread across these pages here, the truth as I know it and as it sees me. Because if I'm never good enough for myself, how can I ever be good enough for someone else?
When I first heard the song, "If I Wrote You", I thought I had written the words in my sleep.
If I wrote you
You would know me
And you would not write me again.
It reminded me of an email I had written, entitled "Hesitation's Answer" ... A love letter I wrote, between tears and truths, in hopes that there could still be a future. Unfortunately, happily ever after disappeared, just as the coach rounded the bend, leaving only a sad little pumpkin behind.
(I should warn you, I was big on elipses back then ...)
March 2000
I believe the question you asked was WHY? For the past few days I have tried to avoid that question like the plague ... You see it was never supposed to go this far ... or get so involved ... this "play" with you was supposed to remain uncomplicated ... harmless flirtation between two strangers ... no strings ... you would eventually go your way ... I would eventually go mine ... no chance for anyone to be disappointed or hurt ... but ... suddenly the world got complicated ... the more we talked ... the more involved we got ... the more dangerous the flirtation became ...
You once told me the thing you admired about me most ... what made me "different" from other girls ... was my high self-esteem ... It's not as high as you think ... I just put up an incredibly good front ... When you told me you were coming home ... I knew the moment would come for the final confession ...
the harder you pushed ... the more I pulled away ... wanting to run from a moment when truth would have to win over what I never had the courage to say ... and here tonight I have chosen to let that moment take its place in time ... because I can't live with "WHAT IF?" ... Because no one can tell me what can hurt worse ... taking the chance or living with never knowing what could have been ...
Do you remember a conversation we had back a little while ago ... you listed off some things that you would find unacceptable in a prospective girlfriend ... I could list off all the things that make me so right ... but ... I guess, it's what is "wrong" that needs to be said ...
Forgive me for delaying the inevitable ... You've been honest with me from the start and I never could "quid pro quo" that ... I just never thought anything would come from all this ... guess I was wrong ... but I've decided that I can't cry about this anymore ... and I need to be fair to you too ...
The decision to shy away from a one on one meeting with you, never had anything to do with you but everything to do with me ... You see I don't think the person you assume me to be, is the person I actually am ... at least not in the physical sense of the word ... I guess there is one requirement that I can't meet ... I'm a big girl ... (There is it, the truth I've tried so carefully to hide.) I don't apologize for that ... I just apologize for not having the courage to tell you that from the moment when it stopped being harmless ...
So now you know the answer for all my hesitations ... I can't control your reaction ... I can't know how this is going to end, unless I hit the "send now" button ... Just to let you know, I am calling upon all the courage I have at this moment to press that button ...
You see nothing scares me more than an ending ... I much prefer beginnings ... I will, at least, get some comfort, out of the fact that I won't have to live with ... what if anymore.
To recognize the truth, you must first bare witness to yourself, even if it means being Naked With the Lights On ... ~ Stacey 2003
Dar Williams
I never thought you were the letter writing type
So now I see the words you chose the way you write
So I started to write back about the trees in the snow
And I saw a bird, couldn't see what it was but I thought you'd know
You always surprised me
And when the spring came and flooded all the streams
It's like how you got the night you told me all your dreams
And when the barn roof sagged after an icy bout
It's like how you got when you knew the truth was the only way out
But not the only way
And if I wrote you
If I wrote you
You would know me
And you would not write me again.
We drew our arms around the bastard sons
We never would drink to the chosen ones
Well you know the way I left was not the way I planned
But I thought the world needed love and a steady hand
So I'm steady now
And I'm so happy
I had to tell you
And I love you
And you will not write me again
You will not write me again
You will not write me again
I never seem to stray too far from the topic of love ... I guess the fear of impending spinsterhood can do that to a girl. The whole waiting for Mr. Right thing is ridiculous, especially when I'm more than willing to take Mr. GonnaHaveToDo. The only problem is, that neither guy, seems to be swimming in my particular circle of friends. So while there may be plenty of fish in the sea, it seems that none of them are biting.
Then there are those, who are firm believers, that love can be found with the simple click of the mouse. Try a dating site they say, what harm can it do? Well, let me count the tears ...
No good can come, from meeting a man over the computer. Right away you put yourself at a disadvantage ... Falling in love with words on a page, a mental image in your mind, and a dream of a love that will save you from your lonely nights. Except they don't tell you what to do, when the dream shatters, when your heart breaks and nobody, not even yourself, can begin to tell you how to fix it. I don't believe in it being better to have loved and lost, then never to have known love at all ... I'd much rather protect my heart, from an attachment doomed to fail.
These are lessons learned the hard way. I actually thought, that a computer flirtation, could be harmless. But then, what started out as simple fun, turned to friendship, and then to love. Of course, the love was almost all one sided. How easy it is, to hide behind a computer, where only your words, measure the sort of person that you are. In cyberspace, you can be anything or anyone, no one has to know, that you're really a weed, trying to impersonate a rose.
"O, what a tangled web we weave,/ When first we practice to deceive!"
Hell, even back then, Shakespheare knew the score. Knew of our internal attraction to the Masquerade Ball? Knew that a face behind a mask, was cause for intrique, a barrier between what was real and what was fantasy.
Don't we all pretend, at some point in our lives, that we are someone other than who we are? Someone more exciting, someone prettier, someone smarter? But what is love, if the very foundation it is built on, is a fortress of half truths and lies? The answer is absolutely nothing. You can neither breathe behind a mask or love from a distance. Sooner or later, you'll expose yourself, just to have a chance at true love. But, a truth told too late, is still a lie ...
So now I'm living my life, an unedited version of myself, putting things out there, speaking my mind, forcing honesty rather than censure. Telling the world, or anyone who happens to read my words, spread across these pages here, the truth as I know it and as it sees me. Because if I'm never good enough for myself, how can I ever be good enough for someone else?
When I first heard the song, "If I Wrote You", I thought I had written the words in my sleep.
If I wrote you
You would know me
And you would not write me again.
It reminded me of an email I had written, entitled "Hesitation's Answer" ... A love letter I wrote, between tears and truths, in hopes that there could still be a future. Unfortunately, happily ever after disappeared, just as the coach rounded the bend, leaving only a sad little pumpkin behind.
(I should warn you, I was big on elipses back then ...)
March 2000
I believe the question you asked was WHY? For the past few days I have tried to avoid that question like the plague ... You see it was never supposed to go this far ... or get so involved ... this "play" with you was supposed to remain uncomplicated ... harmless flirtation between two strangers ... no strings ... you would eventually go your way ... I would eventually go mine ... no chance for anyone to be disappointed or hurt ... but ... suddenly the world got complicated ... the more we talked ... the more involved we got ... the more dangerous the flirtation became ...
You once told me the thing you admired about me most ... what made me "different" from other girls ... was my high self-esteem ... It's not as high as you think ... I just put up an incredibly good front ... When you told me you were coming home ... I knew the moment would come for the final confession ...
the harder you pushed ... the more I pulled away ... wanting to run from a moment when truth would have to win over what I never had the courage to say ... and here tonight I have chosen to let that moment take its place in time ... because I can't live with "WHAT IF?" ... Because no one can tell me what can hurt worse ... taking the chance or living with never knowing what could have been ...
Do you remember a conversation we had back a little while ago ... you listed off some things that you would find unacceptable in a prospective girlfriend ... I could list off all the things that make me so right ... but ... I guess, it's what is "wrong" that needs to be said ...
Forgive me for delaying the inevitable ... You've been honest with me from the start and I never could "quid pro quo" that ... I just never thought anything would come from all this ... guess I was wrong ... but I've decided that I can't cry about this anymore ... and I need to be fair to you too ...
The decision to shy away from a one on one meeting with you, never had anything to do with you but everything to do with me ... You see I don't think the person you assume me to be, is the person I actually am ... at least not in the physical sense of the word ... I guess there is one requirement that I can't meet ... I'm a big girl ... (There is it, the truth I've tried so carefully to hide.) I don't apologize for that ... I just apologize for not having the courage to tell you that from the moment when it stopped being harmless ...
So now you know the answer for all my hesitations ... I can't control your reaction ... I can't know how this is going to end, unless I hit the "send now" button ... Just to let you know, I am calling upon all the courage I have at this moment to press that button ...
You see nothing scares me more than an ending ... I much prefer beginnings ... I will, at least, get some comfort, out of the fact that I won't have to live with ... what if anymore.
To recognize the truth, you must first bare witness to yourself, even if it means being Naked With the Lights On ... ~ Stacey 2003
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.)
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.
Well, I made it back all safe and sound, despite today's monsoon. I am even proud to say, that I didn't get lost once, on my way to the airport. Although, I have to come clean and admit, that I didn't make the trip alone. I convinced my sister Amy, that it would be an absolutely wonderful thing, if her kids went with me to greet Grandma off the plane. Don't think I was fooling anyone though, because I wasn't. She knew darn well, that I needed a small support group to make the drive easier. So instead of rubbing it in my face, she let it slip off her normally honed radar. Unusual but appreciated.
Next to KC, my niece Jordy (Jordan) is the apple of my eye. She's an absolute sweetheart, with the kind of smile that can make even the most mean curmudgeon, start singing a tune to make her happy. All the way to Albany we practiced saying "Hi Grandma Nancy", which ended up sounding more like Grandma Antsy, so that we could really impress my Mother. But nothing beat the kind of greeting that Jordy came up with all on her own.
Being as short as I am, I kept trying to stand on my tippy toes to spot my Mother coming down the hallway, after her flight had been annouced for arriving. A difficult feat, when considering that almost everyone around me seemed to be 6 foot or higher. But finally I spotted her, even though she continued to scan the crowd of other people's families for me ... Genetically speaking, I can attribute my lack of height to her, which is why when you can't tower over others, you develop special locating senses for such a scenario. Which of course, for me, is not a problem considering I've got a very healthy set of lungs and no shame for yelling out Mom in public places.
I let the kids hug her first since she hadn't expected them to be at the airport and it had been forever since she had last seen them. The last time when Jordy was only a year and a half old, compared to the very mature 3 she's at now. Just as we planned, Jordy welcomed Grandma back to New York, although it was what she did next that had almost everyone within our proximity smiling.
"Hi Mom.", I said, hugging her, before taking her bags into my own hands. Jordy looked up at me, as if she was surprised. "CC ... That's your Mom?", she asked, her little voice rising an octave. "Yes Jordy, this is my Mom, and your Grandma."
"That's MY Grandma?", she asked again, her face looking at my Mother with awe. "Yes.", I told her, "That's your Grandma." With that being settled, she did the cutest thing I have ever seen. She opened up her little arms as wide as she could, and wrapped them around my Mother in the biggest hug possible for such a wee little one and said one word that practically had the entire airport in tears, "My Grandma!" I'm telling you there was hardly a dry eye in the place, a true Kodak moment. Meanwhile, I instantly regretted not bringing the video camera that could have captured the $10,000 prize on that America's Videos show.
For the rest of the day, Jordy insisted on calling her "MY" Grandma. A title, I'm sure, won't go over to well with KC when she gets back home from her weekend at her Father's ... After all, that is HER Grandma.
I'm to bed. Goodnight Moon ...
Next to KC, my niece Jordy (Jordan) is the apple of my eye. She's an absolute sweetheart, with the kind of smile that can make even the most mean curmudgeon, start singing a tune to make her happy. All the way to Albany we practiced saying "Hi Grandma Nancy", which ended up sounding more like Grandma Antsy, so that we could really impress my Mother. But nothing beat the kind of greeting that Jordy came up with all on her own.
Being as short as I am, I kept trying to stand on my tippy toes to spot my Mother coming down the hallway, after her flight had been annouced for arriving. A difficult feat, when considering that almost everyone around me seemed to be 6 foot or higher. But finally I spotted her, even though she continued to scan the crowd of other people's families for me ... Genetically speaking, I can attribute my lack of height to her, which is why when you can't tower over others, you develop special locating senses for such a scenario. Which of course, for me, is not a problem considering I've got a very healthy set of lungs and no shame for yelling out Mom in public places.
I let the kids hug her first since she hadn't expected them to be at the airport and it had been forever since she had last seen them. The last time when Jordy was only a year and a half old, compared to the very mature 3 she's at now. Just as we planned, Jordy welcomed Grandma back to New York, although it was what she did next that had almost everyone within our proximity smiling.
"Hi Mom.", I said, hugging her, before taking her bags into my own hands. Jordy looked up at me, as if she was surprised. "CC ... That's your Mom?", she asked, her little voice rising an octave. "Yes Jordy, this is my Mom, and your Grandma."
"That's MY Grandma?", she asked again, her face looking at my Mother with awe. "Yes.", I told her, "That's your Grandma." With that being settled, she did the cutest thing I have ever seen. She opened up her little arms as wide as she could, and wrapped them around my Mother in the biggest hug possible for such a wee little one and said one word that practically had the entire airport in tears, "My Grandma!" I'm telling you there was hardly a dry eye in the place, a true Kodak moment. Meanwhile, I instantly regretted not bringing the video camera that could have captured the $10,000 prize on that America's Videos show.
For the rest of the day, Jordy insisted on calling her "MY" Grandma. A title, I'm sure, won't go over to well with KC when she gets back home from her weekend at her Father's ... After all, that is HER Grandma.
I'm to bed. Goodnight Moon ...
I am up early to face the day today, already having run one load of laundry and quickly working on the second. Lord knows, I hate folding clothes! It reminds me of the 5 years I spent managing a women's clothing store. There's nothing worse than having to fold, and refold stacks of clothing that customer's would just plow through. Nobody understand the time and energy it took to make those precisely stacked little piles. I remember coming home each night, to fold my own clothes and just not being up to the job. Working at the store, I used to say, was like having one giant bedroom that every woman on the face of the earth got to spend time in. Except come 9:00 p.m. the party was over and you were the only one left to pick up after it. Never, ever again ...
I caught Emma drinking out of the toilet this morning. I can't understand why, when she has a perfectly good water dish, she continues to opt for nasty tiolet bowl water. I am so glad I am not a cat. That will start my list of 5 good things I can think about today. I have to think fast of four others so as not to prolong my procrastination too much here ... OK ... Let me think. A garden full of flowers, laugher with friends, KC and I making silly faces, and having the greatest family any girl could have. Now those are some good thoughts!
I also want to congratulate my youngest sister, Jodi Elizabeth, on all her recent accomplishments, which include winning a $10,000 scholarship to the college of her choice, along with another $5,000 and some change. It's hard to believe that she is about to graduate high school in just a few short weeks.
I'm so proud of you little sister, go into the world and make it yours.
With that, I am off to finish the morning chores and haul tail to Albany. A wonderful Saturday to you all.
I caught Emma drinking out of the toilet this morning. I can't understand why, when she has a perfectly good water dish, she continues to opt for nasty tiolet bowl water. I am so glad I am not a cat. That will start my list of 5 good things I can think about today. I have to think fast of four others so as not to prolong my procrastination too much here ... OK ... Let me think. A garden full of flowers, laugher with friends, KC and I making silly faces, and having the greatest family any girl could have. Now those are some good thoughts!
I also want to congratulate my youngest sister, Jodi Elizabeth, on all her recent accomplishments, which include winning a $10,000 scholarship to the college of her choice, along with another $5,000 and some change. It's hard to believe that she is about to graduate high school in just a few short weeks.
I'm so proud of you little sister, go into the world and make it yours.
With that, I am off to finish the morning chores and haul tail to Albany. A wonderful Saturday to you all.
I've been so out of it this week, that I should be relieved that it's finally Friday night, with the whole weekend before me. But I'm stressed. Most likely due to the fact that my Mother arrives tomorrow and I am no where near prepared for her visit. It's like some big giant energy sucker has been residing over my house and stolen every ounce of my energy, right down to the last drop. Sure I know what needs to be done, but I am far from having any of it done. But I just can't seem to get my mind to understand that.
This week has been all about emotional ups, downs and all arounds. Probably why my concentration skills have been at an all time low. My friend Mike, summed it up quite well earlier when he called. "I could tell you weren't really listening when I was talking to you.", he said, "You seemed distracted." Numb might be a better word for it. I've been running in overdrive for so long now that I just need a break to pull myself back together and remember that I am a strong, capable woman, who can do anything and everything when push comes to shove. Except I don't feel so tough now, but more like a big mushy marshmallow slowly roasting over a campfire. S'more? I don't think so.
Lucky for me however, next week will provide some relief to my overworked soul. After Tuesday, I am using 3 vacation days to take some much needed R & R and enjoy my visit with my Mom. Visits which always seem to be over before they've even begun. I just wish my Mom didn't live so darn far away. As surely as KC needs me on a daily basis, that is how much I still need my Mom. Some things, you never outgrow.
So, I'm driving 2 hours to Albany tomorrow, to pick Mom up from the airport, even though Syracuse is but a hop and a skip away. However, if you do the math, comparing Syracuse to Albany, you'd be able to see within hundreds of dollars, the savings you gain by adding on drive time. Ridiculous but what can you do. Now I only have to hope, that I don't manage to get myself lost on the way there. I keep reminding myself that I made it all the way to North Carolina last year, without too many a problem. But then again, I did have the "comfort" of having my Grandma C. along for the ride. (Comfort as in, I wasn't alone, although my right arm was bruised after 10 hours in a car, with a woman who smacked me every time she spoke. Not to worry though, it's a trait more habitual than intentional, but still it hurt all the same.)
So the truth is, I am absolutely scared to death of traveling unknown territory by myself. I like to refer to this as being outside my comfort zone, and trips like these are far from it. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am 28 years old and more than capable of finding my way. But I can tell you this, I can guarantee that up until the moment I actually stop and park the car at the airport, my knuckes will be absolutely white clutching the steering wheel. I think I need to scroll back up to my earlier comment about being a strong and capable woman, cause it doesn't seem so right now.
Before I blog off for the night, I do want to take a moment and reflect back to yesterday's post. One in which, I think I made my point, that I find the topic of rape to be a very personal subject. I'd like to urge all of you, whether or not you've survived an assault, known someone who has, or have been lucky enough to not be among the statistics, to educate yourselves.
Knowledge is power and with the estimated number of REPORTED statistics, being as high as it is, understanding is the greatest gift you can give to someone. Two of the best personal narratives I have ever read, continue to help me make my own path in my quest for regaining control back over my life. Reading these books will help you gain a better understanding of the trauma that is rape and free survivors to speak out against a crime that has rendered its victims "Silent All These Years".
After Silence
Telling
"We'll see how brave you are
Yes, Anastasia."
This week has been all about emotional ups, downs and all arounds. Probably why my concentration skills have been at an all time low. My friend Mike, summed it up quite well earlier when he called. "I could tell you weren't really listening when I was talking to you.", he said, "You seemed distracted." Numb might be a better word for it. I've been running in overdrive for so long now that I just need a break to pull myself back together and remember that I am a strong, capable woman, who can do anything and everything when push comes to shove. Except I don't feel so tough now, but more like a big mushy marshmallow slowly roasting over a campfire. S'more? I don't think so.
Lucky for me however, next week will provide some relief to my overworked soul. After Tuesday, I am using 3 vacation days to take some much needed R & R and enjoy my visit with my Mom. Visits which always seem to be over before they've even begun. I just wish my Mom didn't live so darn far away. As surely as KC needs me on a daily basis, that is how much I still need my Mom. Some things, you never outgrow.
So, I'm driving 2 hours to Albany tomorrow, to pick Mom up from the airport, even though Syracuse is but a hop and a skip away. However, if you do the math, comparing Syracuse to Albany, you'd be able to see within hundreds of dollars, the savings you gain by adding on drive time. Ridiculous but what can you do. Now I only have to hope, that I don't manage to get myself lost on the way there. I keep reminding myself that I made it all the way to North Carolina last year, without too many a problem. But then again, I did have the "comfort" of having my Grandma C. along for the ride. (Comfort as in, I wasn't alone, although my right arm was bruised after 10 hours in a car, with a woman who smacked me every time she spoke. Not to worry though, it's a trait more habitual than intentional, but still it hurt all the same.)
So the truth is, I am absolutely scared to death of traveling unknown territory by myself. I like to refer to this as being outside my comfort zone, and trips like these are far from it. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am 28 years old and more than capable of finding my way. But I can tell you this, I can guarantee that up until the moment I actually stop and park the car at the airport, my knuckes will be absolutely white clutching the steering wheel. I think I need to scroll back up to my earlier comment about being a strong and capable woman, cause it doesn't seem so right now.
Before I blog off for the night, I do want to take a moment and reflect back to yesterday's post. One in which, I think I made my point, that I find the topic of rape to be a very personal subject. I'd like to urge all of you, whether or not you've survived an assault, known someone who has, or have been lucky enough to not be among the statistics, to educate yourselves.
Knowledge is power and with the estimated number of REPORTED statistics, being as high as it is, understanding is the greatest gift you can give to someone. Two of the best personal narratives I have ever read, continue to help me make my own path in my quest for regaining control back over my life. Reading these books will help you gain a better understanding of the trauma that is rape and free survivors to speak out against a crime that has rendered its victims "Silent All These Years".
After Silence
Telling
"We'll see how brave you are
Yes, Anastasia."
Can someone PLEASE explain to me, why Mike Tyson, a CONVICTED RAPIST, is still able to walk around holding his head nice and high, with barely a blemish to mark his very public persona ... Because I just don't get it. These assholes who rape women barely get a slap on their wrists, before our wonderful judicial system lets them back out onto the street to do it again. They're rehabilitated, they say, able to go out into society and be a productive member ... No chance that they could reoffend. My view is far different from what our judicial system would have you believe.
Once a rapist, always a rapist. Do you think that is unfair of me to say that? What if I said, once a murderer, always a murderer. Would anyone argue with me then? Does serving your time mean that you've paid the debt to your victim(s) and that once done, you become completely exonerated of all your crimes. Somehow I doubt that.
But rape is seen differently, because it involves body parts. An intimate crime between rapist and victim, where the offense is too personal for people to understand. Where his crime becomes her shame, an albatross left to hang around her neck for the rest of her life. Does she ever get rehabilitated?
But we let them go and we put them back out onto our streets with our mothers, our sisters, our daughters, our friends ... Because they've served their time. We let them return to their lives, even those spent in the spotlight, in a profession that applauds violence and yearns for more. How much shock can we really express, when that hatred comes bubbling up to the surface for all to see? What else are we left to question then? The following is a statement made by Mike Tyson, showing just how well rehabilitation has worked for him. Ask yourself, if you dare, whether or not you would want this man sitting in your living room right now ...
(SNIP)
May 29) -- Mike Tyson said he's so angry about his rape conviction 11 years ago that he wants to rape his accuser and her mother now. In a television interview scheduled for broadcast Thursday night, the former heavyweight boxing champion repeated his claim that he was innocent of raping beauty pageant contestant Desiree Washington in 1991 in an Indianapolis hotel room.
"I just hate her guts,'' he said. "... She put me in that state, where I don't know. I really wish I did now. But now I really do want to rape her and her... mama.''
Tyson, 36, was convicted in 1992 and was sentenced to six years in prison. He served three years before being released on parole.
He made the comments during an interview in Miami Beach, Fla., with Fox news anchor Greta Van Susteren, who was reviewing the trial.
(END SNIP)
If you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it.
~ Margaret Fuller
If you need help, someone to talk to, or would like to learn more about sexual assualt, click on the selected links provided below.
Websites:
Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network
Welcome to Barbados
Recommended Reading:
After Silence
Returns of the Day
Why I respect TORI AMOS (note: no affiliation to the Stacie mentioned in article)
Lucky: A Memoir
The Lovely Bones
Telling
A Fear of Being
Sometimes I am a coward,
leaving on the light, rather than sleeping in the dark.
Pretending I'm not home, when a knock sounds on the door
and a stranger stands outside.
Sometimes I am a coward,
when a man stands too close or stares too hard ...
When a simple conversation has me grasping for words to say,
or when I cannot find my tongue to speak.
When voices raised in anger, have me searching for places to hide,
and I shrink back into the shadows to avoid detection.
Sometimes I am a coward,
holding back myself from those who would know me,
letting a river of betrayl, determine the course of my journey.
When in wanting love and to be loved,
I turn away from opportunity, to stand high on my wall of safety,
that no manmade ladder can hope to climb.
Sometimes I am a coward, choosing to stay at home,
rather than face the world at large,
pretending to be content
within my small sphere of being,
though all the while secretly dreaming of escape.
Sometimes I am afraid of being whole,
of finding the missing piece that completes my puzzle ...
Scared at the daunting prospect of just being me.
Myself.
The women who doesn't need the light on, to fall asleep.
~ Written by Stacey (11-15-00)
Once a rapist, always a rapist. Do you think that is unfair of me to say that? What if I said, once a murderer, always a murderer. Would anyone argue with me then? Does serving your time mean that you've paid the debt to your victim(s) and that once done, you become completely exonerated of all your crimes. Somehow I doubt that.
But rape is seen differently, because it involves body parts. An intimate crime between rapist and victim, where the offense is too personal for people to understand. Where his crime becomes her shame, an albatross left to hang around her neck for the rest of her life. Does she ever get rehabilitated?
But we let them go and we put them back out onto our streets with our mothers, our sisters, our daughters, our friends ... Because they've served their time. We let them return to their lives, even those spent in the spotlight, in a profession that applauds violence and yearns for more. How much shock can we really express, when that hatred comes bubbling up to the surface for all to see? What else are we left to question then? The following is a statement made by Mike Tyson, showing just how well rehabilitation has worked for him. Ask yourself, if you dare, whether or not you would want this man sitting in your living room right now ...
(SNIP)
May 29) -- Mike Tyson said he's so angry about his rape conviction 11 years ago that he wants to rape his accuser and her mother now. In a television interview scheduled for broadcast Thursday night, the former heavyweight boxing champion repeated his claim that he was innocent of raping beauty pageant contestant Desiree Washington in 1991 in an Indianapolis hotel room.
"I just hate her guts,'' he said. "... She put me in that state, where I don't know. I really wish I did now. But now I really do want to rape her and her... mama.''
Tyson, 36, was convicted in 1992 and was sentenced to six years in prison. He served three years before being released on parole.
He made the comments during an interview in Miami Beach, Fla., with Fox news anchor Greta Van Susteren, who was reviewing the trial.
(END SNIP)
If you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it.
~ Margaret Fuller
If you need help, someone to talk to, or would like to learn more about sexual assualt, click on the selected links provided below.
Websites:
Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network
Welcome to Barbados
Recommended Reading:
After Silence
Returns of the Day
Why I respect TORI AMOS (note: no affiliation to the Stacie mentioned in article)
Lucky: A Memoir
The Lovely Bones
Telling
A Fear of Being
Sometimes I am a coward,
leaving on the light, rather than sleeping in the dark.
Pretending I'm not home, when a knock sounds on the door
and a stranger stands outside.
Sometimes I am a coward,
when a man stands too close or stares too hard ...
When a simple conversation has me grasping for words to say,
or when I cannot find my tongue to speak.
When voices raised in anger, have me searching for places to hide,
and I shrink back into the shadows to avoid detection.
Sometimes I am a coward,
holding back myself from those who would know me,
letting a river of betrayl, determine the course of my journey.
When in wanting love and to be loved,
I turn away from opportunity, to stand high on my wall of safety,
that no manmade ladder can hope to climb.
Sometimes I am a coward, choosing to stay at home,
rather than face the world at large,
pretending to be content
within my small sphere of being,
though all the while secretly dreaming of escape.
Sometimes I am afraid of being whole,
of finding the missing piece that completes my puzzle ...
Scared at the daunting prospect of just being me.
Myself.
The women who doesn't need the light on, to fall asleep.
~ Written by Stacey (11-15-00)
Just wanted to blog that I am downing some advil and about to drag my weary self upstairs for a solid eight hours of glorious sleep.
Since there's not much else I can do to amuse you for this evening, get clicky and learn more about what you can do to get closer to your duck ...
Centre for Duck Studies
Since there's not much else I can do to amuse you for this evening, get clicky and learn more about what you can do to get closer to your duck ...
Centre for Duck Studies
Shows I am no longer watching as they depress me more than they entertain me ...
1. A Wedding Story (I am not married.)
2. A Baby Story (My biological clock is tick, tick, ticking.)
3. A Dating Story (I can't remember the last time I went out on a real date.)
4. A Makeover Story (I am a What Not to Wear episode waiting to happen.)
5. Trading Spaces (My landlord doesn't appreciate my need to express myself through massive redecorating.)
Ok ... I'm pretty much initiating a crackdown on any and all programming sponsored by the TLC network ... Hah ... TLC my left cheek ... bone that is. The learning channel is one big episode of this is not your life, no matter how hard you might wish it to be. And don't even try to convince me that there isn't some sort of mean spirited reason for their call letters! Ask any single girl anywhere in the whole United States and trust me when I tell you, that they will verify that there is absolutely nothing tender, loving or caring about watching what everyone else but you has, on national television. It's cruel I tell you, cruel!
I've even followed all the advice my married/committed friends have given me. (Think back ... I'm sure you've heard them all before too.) From Mom's tried, but not true, stop looking and Mr. Right will materialize right before your eyes theory, all the way to grocery shopping on Thursday nights between the hours of 6:30 and 9:00 p.m. This just to open up the opportunity to accidentally ram your cart, into some unsuspecting single man in the middle of the produce section, who has no idea he's being stalked by every single girl in the joint. An even smarter girl takes her coupon book with her, just so she can interject after the smash but not grab incident, after a quick inventory of Mr. Maybe He Could be the One's cart, that she just happens to have an extra coupon for one of his purchases. This of course, shows him how generous she is. If he's not already thinking she's a complete psycho.
I might even find some of this comical, if it weren't for the simple fact, that this is my life. Sometimes I wonder where the girl who used to be me went ... The one who didn't care if she was single or not, a member of the in crowd, or if she was fashionably late or fashionable at all. I think I was 25 the last time we had a meaningful chat, since then she hasn't had much to say, other than the occasional spinster with a cat comment. Bridget Jones, you've got no idea ...
1. A Wedding Story (I am not married.)
2. A Baby Story (My biological clock is tick, tick, ticking.)
3. A Dating Story (I can't remember the last time I went out on a real date.)
4. A Makeover Story (I am a What Not to Wear episode waiting to happen.)
5. Trading Spaces (My landlord doesn't appreciate my need to express myself through massive redecorating.)
Ok ... I'm pretty much initiating a crackdown on any and all programming sponsored by the TLC network ... Hah ... TLC my left cheek ... bone that is. The learning channel is one big episode of this is not your life, no matter how hard you might wish it to be. And don't even try to convince me that there isn't some sort of mean spirited reason for their call letters! Ask any single girl anywhere in the whole United States and trust me when I tell you, that they will verify that there is absolutely nothing tender, loving or caring about watching what everyone else but you has, on national television. It's cruel I tell you, cruel!
I've even followed all the advice my married/committed friends have given me. (Think back ... I'm sure you've heard them all before too.) From Mom's tried, but not true, stop looking and Mr. Right will materialize right before your eyes theory, all the way to grocery shopping on Thursday nights between the hours of 6:30 and 9:00 p.m. This just to open up the opportunity to accidentally ram your cart, into some unsuspecting single man in the middle of the produce section, who has no idea he's being stalked by every single girl in the joint. An even smarter girl takes her coupon book with her, just so she can interject after the smash but not grab incident, after a quick inventory of Mr. Maybe He Could be the One's cart, that she just happens to have an extra coupon for one of his purchases. This of course, shows him how generous she is. If he's not already thinking she's a complete psycho.
I might even find some of this comical, if it weren't for the simple fact, that this is my life. Sometimes I wonder where the girl who used to be me went ... The one who didn't care if she was single or not, a member of the in crowd, or if she was fashionably late or fashionable at all. I think I was 25 the last time we had a meaningful chat, since then she hasn't had much to say, other than the occasional spinster with a cat comment. Bridget Jones, you've got no idea ...
According to (somewhat) reliable sources, I have evidently, and inadvertently committed the caridinal sin of all telephone anwering machine outgoing messages. (Gasp!) The following is a true representation of said questionable outgoing message in its entirety.
"Hi, this is Stacey. We can't come to the phone right now, so please leave your name, number and a message, and we'll return your call as soon as possible. Thanks."
OK ... Maybe I am guilty of the proverbial "we" usage, but considering that I was representing KC, without naming her as a member of the household, I believe immunity is in order . After all, I hit two birds with one stone ... One, I've let callers know that more than one person lives at my residence and two, callers are not aware said second resident is under the age of ten. Personally, I think it's awful tricky of me.
But according to the SRS, (somewhat reliable source, for those of you in need of a refresher on the lingo) my error occurred by stating my name, both clearly and precisely, for all the world to hear when calling my machine. Damn! Now the telemarketers know who I am! Oh the travesty!
Thanks to the SRS's quick thinking, and message stating my obvious breach of answering machine etiquette, I quickly amended my message before heading out the door again, in search of yet another adventure. Howver when I got home later, I was surprised to see that the little red light on my answering machine was blinking furiously. Very interesting.
Counting off the number of messages, I felt sure that finally I was getting the appreciation I deserved, with my new outgoing message ... That or I'd gotten extremely popular while I was out, in which case the telemarketers, must have been extremely disappointed to have missed me and/or the SRS had called back and heard my message change. In either case, I rubbed my hands with glee, eager to hear my messages.
"Oh wonderful. Your name is on there ten times now ... I guess I must have missed you again ... Unless you're there listening ... There's a word for that ... Telephone voyeurism."
There is a lesson to be learned here kiddies ... When it comes to constructive criticism, it usually backfires.
My new message is of course the pinacle of all examples to be made from this tragic error in judgement.
"Hi this is Stacey. Stacey is not currently taking calls. If you'd like to leave a message for Stacey, press one. Stacey will call you back just as soon as she is able."
Hi ho ... Now it's off to work I go. (Does anyone else find it disturbing that the 7 dwarfs went off to work singing "Hi Ho"? Evidently it's kind of like "ciao" in Italian, both a greeting as well as a closing ... Still, I don't think it's quite right that they were calling Snow White a "ho" ... She did earn her keep after all.) Mwaa ha ha ha ha.
"Hi, this is Stacey. We can't come to the phone right now, so please leave your name, number and a message, and we'll return your call as soon as possible. Thanks."
OK ... Maybe I am guilty of the proverbial "we" usage, but considering that I was representing KC, without naming her as a member of the household, I believe immunity is in order . After all, I hit two birds with one stone ... One, I've let callers know that more than one person lives at my residence and two, callers are not aware said second resident is under the age of ten. Personally, I think it's awful tricky of me.
But according to the SRS, (somewhat reliable source, for those of you in need of a refresher on the lingo) my error occurred by stating my name, both clearly and precisely, for all the world to hear when calling my machine. Damn! Now the telemarketers know who I am! Oh the travesty!
Thanks to the SRS's quick thinking, and message stating my obvious breach of answering machine etiquette, I quickly amended my message before heading out the door again, in search of yet another adventure. Howver when I got home later, I was surprised to see that the little red light on my answering machine was blinking furiously. Very interesting.
Counting off the number of messages, I felt sure that finally I was getting the appreciation I deserved, with my new outgoing message ... That or I'd gotten extremely popular while I was out, in which case the telemarketers, must have been extremely disappointed to have missed me and/or the SRS had called back and heard my message change. In either case, I rubbed my hands with glee, eager to hear my messages.
"Oh wonderful. Your name is on there ten times now ... I guess I must have missed you again ... Unless you're there listening ... There's a word for that ... Telephone voyeurism."
There is a lesson to be learned here kiddies ... When it comes to constructive criticism, it usually backfires.
My new message is of course the pinacle of all examples to be made from this tragic error in judgement.
"Hi this is Stacey. Stacey is not currently taking calls. If you'd like to leave a message for Stacey, press one. Stacey will call you back just as soon as she is able."
Hi ho ... Now it's off to work I go. (Does anyone else find it disturbing that the 7 dwarfs went off to work singing "Hi Ho"? Evidently it's kind of like "ciao" in Italian, both a greeting as well as a closing ... Still, I don't think it's quite right that they were calling Snow White a "ho" ... She did earn her keep after all.) Mwaa ha ha ha ha.
Lately, I've noticed an odd trend when it comes to getting new readers to my blog. It seems (according to my NWTLO stats) that most new hits on my site are coming from random searches for the word NAKED. Yeah, like that's a really big shocker ... But seriously though, the only thing NAKED on or about this blog, are my thoughts. So if you were hoping for something a bit more risque ... Your search is far from over ... However, as a good friend once advised me, there are fringe benefits for "getting your mind out of the butter".
I have to call Beaner in a moment ... Which is actually Brenda, for all of you who aren't aware that she's carried that particular nickname around since kindergarten. One, I might add, that she's never been a big fan of, but sometimes you just have to grin and bear it. Like mine for instance, well in actuality, I have more than a few but the one I've had since I was just a sprout has been Spacey. Very clever isn't it, I mean the whole rhyme thing is totally unexpected. Not that I ever lived up to that nickname ... Has lightning struck yet?
Anyhoo ... Bren is coming over today at some point, to enjoy this wonderful wet weather we're having. So much for a picnic at the park, or starting on my summer tan. I guess we'll have to make due, keeping the little rugrats amused inside. Yeah, I'm doubting that's going to happen too but I've got the power of positive thinking on my side.
I'm feeling like a quote today ...
"The next best thing to being clever is being able to quote some one who is." ~ Mary Pettibone Poole, A Glass Eye at a Keyhole (1938)
I have to call Beaner in a moment ... Which is actually Brenda, for all of you who aren't aware that she's carried that particular nickname around since kindergarten. One, I might add, that she's never been a big fan of, but sometimes you just have to grin and bear it. Like mine for instance, well in actuality, I have more than a few but the one I've had since I was just a sprout has been Spacey. Very clever isn't it, I mean the whole rhyme thing is totally unexpected. Not that I ever lived up to that nickname ... Has lightning struck yet?
Anyhoo ... Bren is coming over today at some point, to enjoy this wonderful wet weather we're having. So much for a picnic at the park, or starting on my summer tan. I guess we'll have to make due, keeping the little rugrats amused inside. Yeah, I'm doubting that's going to happen too but I've got the power of positive thinking on my side.
I'm feeling like a quote today ...
"The next best thing to being clever is being able to quote some one who is." ~ Mary Pettibone Poole, A Glass Eye at a Keyhole (1938)
I have a friend who loves housework. Honest, she loves all housework. All day long she moves from one chore to the next, smiling the whole time. I went over there one day and begged her to tell me her secret. It's simple, she said, right after breakfast you light up a joint. ~ Gabrielle Burton, "No One Has a Corner on Depression But Housewives Are Working On It." (1976)
If your house is really a mess and a stranger comes to the door, greet him with, "Who could have done this? We have no enemies." ~ Phyllis Diller, Phyllis Diller's Housekeeping Hints (1966)
If your house is really a mess and a stranger comes to the door, greet him with, "Who could have done this? We have no enemies." ~ Phyllis Diller, Phyllis Diller's Housekeeping Hints (1966)
And a good Sunday morning to you too.
Today is going to be SO much fun, as today marks day one of "preparing" for Mom's impending arrival. Which means that any little secret stash of hidden away whatever, needs to be unearthed and dealt with accordingly. See you later pack rat tendencies.
KC is still upstairs sleeping, unusal as normally she's the first to wake on a Sunday morning. But today it's me and I am enjoying the solitude of the moment. Earlier, I watched while I drank my morning cup of cocoa, a mama robin feeding her baby bird, from the comfort of my porch.
My feeders normally attract all sorts of birds, as well as a resident squirrel, I have named Buddi. Most bird enthusiasts I know, and granted I don't know that many, think of squirrels as bothersome pests, disrupting the daily routine at the bird feeder. They go about thinking all sorts of crazy ways to prevent the squirrels from getting to the feed, that they never take time to consider the easiest one. Which is just to feed the damn squirrels at the same time. This way they eat, leave your feeders alone and everyone goes home happy.
But I'm not like most bird watchers. Sure, I think birds are cute and interesting in a birdish sort of way, but my whole purpose of putting out the feeders, was not to amuse myself but my cat. I figured that by giving Emma something to do, while we're away at work and school, it would keep her from getting into too much trouble on her own. I remember when we first got her, she was a complete lunatic, racing from one end of the house to the other and constantly running into walls ... Not that anything has changed along those lines, but at least now she has birdvision to break up her day.
KC has finally awoken and is now settled admist the pillows on the couch, cuddled up tight in her blanket. And yes, the cartoons are already on. She looks so sweet now, that I haven't the heart to tell her todays plan just yet. Wait until she finds out her room is one of the things on my agenda this morning. She's going to be one very unhappy little camper. Oh well, you can't have a visit from Grandma without paying the price. (Note: Just kidding Mom.)
Today is going to be SO much fun, as today marks day one of "preparing" for Mom's impending arrival. Which means that any little secret stash of hidden away whatever, needs to be unearthed and dealt with accordingly. See you later pack rat tendencies.
KC is still upstairs sleeping, unusal as normally she's the first to wake on a Sunday morning. But today it's me and I am enjoying the solitude of the moment. Earlier, I watched while I drank my morning cup of cocoa, a mama robin feeding her baby bird, from the comfort of my porch.
My feeders normally attract all sorts of birds, as well as a resident squirrel, I have named Buddi. Most bird enthusiasts I know, and granted I don't know that many, think of squirrels as bothersome pests, disrupting the daily routine at the bird feeder. They go about thinking all sorts of crazy ways to prevent the squirrels from getting to the feed, that they never take time to consider the easiest one. Which is just to feed the damn squirrels at the same time. This way they eat, leave your feeders alone and everyone goes home happy.
But I'm not like most bird watchers. Sure, I think birds are cute and interesting in a birdish sort of way, but my whole purpose of putting out the feeders, was not to amuse myself but my cat. I figured that by giving Emma something to do, while we're away at work and school, it would keep her from getting into too much trouble on her own. I remember when we first got her, she was a complete lunatic, racing from one end of the house to the other and constantly running into walls ... Not that anything has changed along those lines, but at least now she has birdvision to break up her day.
KC has finally awoken and is now settled admist the pillows on the couch, cuddled up tight in her blanket. And yes, the cartoons are already on. She looks so sweet now, that I haven't the heart to tell her todays plan just yet. Wait until she finds out her room is one of the things on my agenda this morning. She's going to be one very unhappy little camper. Oh well, you can't have a visit from Grandma without paying the price. (Note: Just kidding Mom.)
I am so tired this morning, having had nothing but disturbing dreams to keep me company all throughout the night. They felt so real, that if you had asked me, I would have told you reality was the dream. Well, maybe all except for the part where I was holding these really big timbers of wood, with electronic fuses at the ends, while standing in about a foot of water, on stage with a whole audience in front of me, looking exactly like Nicole Kidman. That little snippet, as real as it felt, may have been enough to convince me that I was indeed in the world of dreams.
Have you ever had a dream that gets your blood boiled though? This morning, I was ready to tear my ex to shreds, because even in my dreams, he still thought that he was the boss, telling me what I was going to do, how I was going to do it, and calling all the shots when it came to KC. During one part, I remember KC and I being snuggled up on a camping trip, trying to keep warm and sleep, when he, out of nowhere, decided that KC should be with him and I should be left out in the cold with no blanket and no means of staying warm.
From somwhere, I hear Linda from work, telling me to analyze my dream, to question why things are as they appear to be within the dream. What is it, that I fear most? This she says, is the question I must answer. I don't even bother to think about it, knowing the answer has always been there. It's all about control and my having none of it. The fear that I will never be able to stand up to the choices that other people make, and how those choices will affect me. My greatest fear, playing the pawn in a game not of my own choosing, where my survival depends on the mercy of others. Control of your own destiny is the hardest thing to lose, because even after it has been regained, you always doubt that you'll ever really have it again.
Have you ever had a dream that gets your blood boiled though? This morning, I was ready to tear my ex to shreds, because even in my dreams, he still thought that he was the boss, telling me what I was going to do, how I was going to do it, and calling all the shots when it came to KC. During one part, I remember KC and I being snuggled up on a camping trip, trying to keep warm and sleep, when he, out of nowhere, decided that KC should be with him and I should be left out in the cold with no blanket and no means of staying warm.
From somwhere, I hear Linda from work, telling me to analyze my dream, to question why things are as they appear to be within the dream. What is it, that I fear most? This she says, is the question I must answer. I don't even bother to think about it, knowing the answer has always been there. It's all about control and my having none of it. The fear that I will never be able to stand up to the choices that other people make, and how those choices will affect me. My greatest fear, playing the pawn in a game not of my own choosing, where my survival depends on the mercy of others. Control of your own destiny is the hardest thing to lose, because even after it has been regained, you always doubt that you'll ever really have it again.
