Tonight was a celebration of women-hood for me and 12 other women when we went to see Sex and the City 2. I totally enjoyed the movie, clapped and laughed out loud in the appropriate parts.
I walked out of the theater and checked my phone, as I always do when my daughter is away from me.
My iPhone proclaimed that I had one missed call and a voice mail from Amy. Amy is my daughter’s step-mother…and as much as I had always hoped for a close relationship with her, it has never been so. So, upon seeing her number on my phone, I had a chill of advance warning. As I rode the escalator down from the theater, I listened to the very unexpected message she had left, and I heard the dreaded news. Taylor’s Grandfather, who had been battling cancer and then pneumonia, had passed late the previous evening. Amy had the forethought to call me and let me know in advance of her and her husband breaking the news to Taylor. My heart broke.
I struggled to keep my emotions in check, and from the tears rolling down my cheeks. I got into my friend Deb’s car to go back to my house for an “after party.”
I called Amy on the way back to my home. I am very grateful that as challenging as it must have been for her, Amy handed the phone over to her husband…my ex…I was not able to control my emotions by this point and just said, “I am so sorry…let me know if there is anything I can do.” He just said, “It’s really sad.”
I spoke to Taylor later this evening. She kept saying, “I’m FINE Mom.”
But she was choking on the words.
I wish that I could be there for her – to hold and reassure her. But right now, given that she is with her Dad and his family, all I can do is pray.
When I found out that I was pregnant with Tay, her Father and I chose to share the news with our parents in a very individual and special way.
We gave each of them hand written notes, sharing with them which of the traits that they had that we hoped that our daughter would inherit. To Richard we wrote that we hoped our unborn daughter would get his artistic skills and dry humor.
Tay has both of those traits – in spades.
Richard Oakley, thank you for making hand-made birthday cards for your grand-daughter, thank you for picking her up from school when I couldn’t, thank you for teaching her to fish….thank you for providing a wonderful example of how to love.
Thank you for being such a wonderful Grandfather. You are already missed so very, very much.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
For the love of Killer (Whales)
I don’t remember exactly when I began my love affair with killer whales. I only know that it has been long and passionate.
Like many Floridians, my family made annual sojourns to Walt Disney World and Sea World. My parents would pack the wood paneled station wagon full of their ever numbering daughters to make the three hour trip to Orlando. Dad always did the driving and Mom would do the over-packing. My Mother’s priorities when it came to traveling with her family seem a little funny to me now. We HAD to wear flip flops every step when walking around in the hotel room and even had to wear them into the shower…lest we catch Athletes Foot. (We even called them “shower shoes”)
Like many Floridians, my family made annual sojourns to Walt Disney World and Sea World. My parents would pack the wood paneled station wagon full of their ever numbering daughters to make the three hour trip to Orlando. Dad always did the driving and Mom would do the over-packing. My Mother’s priorities when it came to traveling with her family seem a little funny to me now. We HAD to wear flip flops every step when walking around in the hotel room and even had to wear them into the shower…lest we catch Athletes Foot. (We even called them “shower shoes”)
However, for breakfast we were served crackers with Cheese Whiz on them…so that we could save money by not eating in a touristy, expensive restaurant. While I understand the logic behind both, it just seems like such a juxtaposition to save a child’s soles in the evening while rotting her gut the next morning.
While I always enjoyed Disney, The Happiest Place on Earth and eagerly awaited riding on my favorite rides, it was the trips to Sea World that fed my junior soul.
The sea lions; how cute they were and how they could bark on cue. Huge and humorous looking because of their considerable girth, they could always make me laugh.
The sharks; how deadly they looked gliding through the water. To me their movement compared to the other fish looked like the aquatic version of the purposeful march of a blood-thirsty soldier next to the ambling walk of a civilian.
Once the new exhibitions at the park later opened I also loved the penguins, especially the ones with the adorable orange plumes on their heads (Rockhoppers), and the Moray Eels. The serpentine Morays were languid and mysterious…to this day scientists are unsure of some of their most private habits, like how they mate and bear young.
Of course there are the dolphins; the perennial crowd favorite. Lightly leaping, smiling and cavorting with their trainers. As much as they seemed to be everyone’s favorite sea mammal, they seemed just a tad too pedestrian to me. They lacked an edge.
Then, there are my favorite, the majestic, striking looking and awe-inspiring Killer Whales. Orcinus orca. Sea World has built their parks around this unlikely captive animal.
The Orca is actually the largest of the dolphin family. As such, they are not only very intelligent animals but also very social ones. In the wild, they typically reside in pods dominated by a matriarch and can live to be 90 years old. Their diet, depending on their social structure can be anything from fish to other marine mammals. They communicate…vociferously. They can plot and plan. And they are HUGE. An adult male can weigh in excess of 6 tons.
I felt a special bond when I learned during a trip to Sea World when I was just a few days past my 16th birthday that the first “Baby Shamu” had been born, just one day after my own. (It was only when confirming dates for this blog posting that I learned that it was the only captive Orca baby to survive longer than a few days.)
Later, when I lived in the Orlando area in my early twenties, I had a season pass to Sea World. I got to tour the exhibits at my leisure. I took in many ‘Shamu Shows.’ Back then, the park employees ignored you if you stayed in the stadium to watch the beautiful whales.
I remember, with great clarity, going up to the glass at the front of the empty stadium…where I caught the eye of one of the Orcas doing her laps. I raised my left arm and bent to my right. She did the same. (Well, actually her ‘arm’ was a fin) Next lap around she hesitated and did a “spy hop,” looking at me, a good portion of her bulk out of the water and over the glass. She settled and kind of slid back in and did another lap.
This time, when she came back around and stopped again, I was ready. Armed with the memory of the movements I had witnessed the trainers doing, I spun around and she copied me. We moved closer to each other and I saw the playfulness mixed with the intelligence in her eyes. I backed away and she did the same. I dipped my head down and then threw it back…then, I was completely doused with a mixture of salt water and whale spit. (I had asked for it!) She dove back into the water.
This close encounter coupled with my burgeoning knowledge of this amazing species served to turn me into a total Orca Whale groupie.
I have become a devotee of a certain artists, including the renowned Whaling Wall one, Wyland. I actually scheduled a vacation around watching him create his 13th mural in as many weeks in Key West in the early 90’s. I still love and covet his work today, even though I cannot afford it.
I belong to groups on Facebook who support and track our beautiful Orca whales in the wild. Lately, there have been many controversial posts about Tillicum, the Orca that has now been involved with 3 human deaths. (My opinions on that would be another whole post)
I have decorated my home with photos, mementos and bric-a-brac that all contain the ocean to some degree and more specifically, Orcas.
As some of my readers may know, I am Matron of Honor for a wedding this June. And, my MOH gift was a crystal rendition of my favorite marine mammal, in sparkling black and white.
More permanently, when I chose to ink my almost 40 year old aging body with a tattoo, it was with the image of an Orca and her baby, as a representation of myself and my daughter – done creatively by Mike Haugh, tattoo artist extraordinaire in Key West (well, Stock Island), FL. (The image in the beginning of this post)
Being an Orca lover has become part of me over the years…it is part of who I am.
Going to Victoria BC to see them is my number one fantasy destination.
At the end of the day, one of the things that resonates the most with me is something I read quite awhile ago.
All mammals originated in the ocean. Then they all crawled onto land. A few went back into the sea. The rest stayed.
Now I ask you, who was the wiser species?
While I always enjoyed Disney, The Happiest Place on Earth and eagerly awaited riding on my favorite rides, it was the trips to Sea World that fed my junior soul.
The sea lions; how cute they were and how they could bark on cue. Huge and humorous looking because of their considerable girth, they could always make me laugh.
The sharks; how deadly they looked gliding through the water. To me their movement compared to the other fish looked like the aquatic version of the purposeful march of a blood-thirsty soldier next to the ambling walk of a civilian.
Once the new exhibitions at the park later opened I also loved the penguins, especially the ones with the adorable orange plumes on their heads (Rockhoppers), and the Moray Eels. The serpentine Morays were languid and mysterious…to this day scientists are unsure of some of their most private habits, like how they mate and bear young.
Of course there are the dolphins; the perennial crowd favorite. Lightly leaping, smiling and cavorting with their trainers. As much as they seemed to be everyone’s favorite sea mammal, they seemed just a tad too pedestrian to me. They lacked an edge.
Then, there are my favorite, the majestic, striking looking and awe-inspiring Killer Whales. Orcinus orca. Sea World has built their parks around this unlikely captive animal.
The Orca is actually the largest of the dolphin family. As such, they are not only very intelligent animals but also very social ones. In the wild, they typically reside in pods dominated by a matriarch and can live to be 90 years old. Their diet, depending on their social structure can be anything from fish to other marine mammals. They communicate…vociferously. They can plot and plan. And they are HUGE. An adult male can weigh in excess of 6 tons.
I felt a special bond when I learned during a trip to Sea World when I was just a few days past my 16th birthday that the first “Baby Shamu” had been born, just one day after my own. (It was only when confirming dates for this blog posting that I learned that it was the only captive Orca baby to survive longer than a few days.)
Later, when I lived in the Orlando area in my early twenties, I had a season pass to Sea World. I got to tour the exhibits at my leisure. I took in many ‘Shamu Shows.’ Back then, the park employees ignored you if you stayed in the stadium to watch the beautiful whales.
I remember, with great clarity, going up to the glass at the front of the empty stadium…where I caught the eye of one of the Orcas doing her laps. I raised my left arm and bent to my right. She did the same. (Well, actually her ‘arm’ was a fin) Next lap around she hesitated and did a “spy hop,” looking at me, a good portion of her bulk out of the water and over the glass. She settled and kind of slid back in and did another lap.
This time, when she came back around and stopped again, I was ready. Armed with the memory of the movements I had witnessed the trainers doing, I spun around and she copied me. We moved closer to each other and I saw the playfulness mixed with the intelligence in her eyes. I backed away and she did the same. I dipped my head down and then threw it back…then, I was completely doused with a mixture of salt water and whale spit. (I had asked for it!) She dove back into the water.
This close encounter coupled with my burgeoning knowledge of this amazing species served to turn me into a total Orca Whale groupie.
I have become a devotee of a certain artists, including the renowned Whaling Wall one, Wyland. I actually scheduled a vacation around watching him create his 13th mural in as many weeks in Key West in the early 90’s. I still love and covet his work today, even though I cannot afford it.
I belong to groups on Facebook who support and track our beautiful Orca whales in the wild. Lately, there have been many controversial posts about Tillicum, the Orca that has now been involved with 3 human deaths. (My opinions on that would be another whole post)
I have decorated my home with photos, mementos and bric-a-brac that all contain the ocean to some degree and more specifically, Orcas.
As some of my readers may know, I am Matron of Honor for a wedding this June. And, my MOH gift was a crystal rendition of my favorite marine mammal, in sparkling black and white.
More permanently, when I chose to ink my almost 40 year old aging body with a tattoo, it was with the image of an Orca and her baby, as a representation of myself and my daughter – done creatively by Mike Haugh, tattoo artist extraordinaire in Key West (well, Stock Island), FL. (The image in the beginning of this post)
Being an Orca lover has become part of me over the years…it is part of who I am.
Going to Victoria BC to see them is my number one fantasy destination.
At the end of the day, one of the things that resonates the most with me is something I read quite awhile ago.
All mammals originated in the ocean. Then they all crawled onto land. A few went back into the sea. The rest stayed.
Now I ask you, who was the wiser species?
Friday, May 21, 2010
SATC
Last Friday I got up at 2:30 in the morning. My alarm was buzzing and my husband gently shook my arm. “Honey, the tickets are available,” he said. I shot upright, and staggered to the computer. Eureka! He was right. I had been stalking the Boca Raton Cinemark Theater site for the last two weeks, waiting for this very moment. Adrenaline was rushing through my veins and my hands were shaking as I clicked to purchase 16 of the highly coveted seats. I waited for the confirmation e-mail and then had to drink a cup of Sleepy Time tea to calm myself enough to go back to sleep for a couple of hours before the work day.
Why all the fuss and the sacrifice of sleep? Premier Tickets to see Sex and the City 2.
By saying ‘Premier,’ I am not referring to opening night. The movie will actually open the day before (which I find odd – what movie opens on a Thursday?) But for me, Premier means seeing the movie in a very posh fashion. Here in Boca, our movie theater has an upstairs restaurant, bar and theater. The seating is assigned and they are comfortable, plush love seats. There is real food and cocktails for purchase and free popcorn with an assortment of optional flavorings. I was first introduced to seeing a movie in this elite fashion by my friend Di when we saw Dreamgirls a few years ago. Since then I refer to seeing a movie in regular seats as ‘sitting in steerage.’
It was here that I saw the first Sex and the City (SATC) movie in 2008 with 7 other bright, beautiful women. This time around, I strived to bring even more lovely women to celebrate the movie with me. And after my early morning ticket buying – I stand triumphant.
I was late-comer in the game with regards to SATC the TV show. I rented the first season on DVD on a whim, intending the rental to be a balance and distraction for a Super Bowl Party and ended up watching it straight through. I absolutely fell in love with the characters and the writing. I was single at the time, and the story lines spoke to me in volumes.
After my first taste of the show on DVD, I upped my cable package with a subscription to HBO. Every Sunday night was eagerly awaited. Many times I hosted Cosmo nights at my humble little abode. (To this day, give me a good bottle of vodka, cranberry juice, Cointreau, a lime wedge and a shaker and I will make you the best Cosmopolitan you’ve ever had.)
When the finale of the show aired, me and one of my best friends sat crossed legged, inches from the TV as to not miss a minute. (And to drown out loud, playing children in the background.) Tears rolled down my face when Big announced to Carrie, “you’re the one.”
When the first SATC movie came out, I eagerly invited friends to share the experience with me. It was one of my best memories ever.
This time, I have upped the ante and there will be 15 other women with me, watching the ever important story line with me.
I am SO not a joiner, so I have wondered, what makes SATC so special to me?
Firstly, character association. I have taken several tests to determine which SATC character I am most like.
As much as I want it to be Samantha, most of the time, test results proclaim that I am Charlotte. The Do-gooder, the planner. The One Who Wants to Marry. (Egads- and please send help.) But, this association is not all bad. Charlotte is a sticky glue that keeps the girls together. Her Pollyannaish view of the world is not entirely unlike mine. I have a firm belief that everything will work out well – as it is supposed to.
Occasionally, I get the Carrie result. The writer. The one who documents for all of posterity.
But, I never end up with the result that I am like Miranda…even though her character (businesswoman) is a part of me as well.
To this day, my favorite scene from the HBO TV Show is the one where the four girls are having breakfast and Samantha says, “I am dating a guy with the funkiest tasting spunk.” There are quick camera angles of all of the girls exchanging looks…and then Charlotte gets up and leaves, shoving open the door of the restaurant purposefully. Miranda leans into Carrie and says in an ominous tone, “…and she’s never coming back!” I laughed out loud.
I love these fictitious women – with all of their faults and foibles.
These women represent all of us, in some way or another. It is the unending story of women’s friendships that keeps me hooked on SATC and keeps me coming back….year after year. And I am grateful beyond any words that I have women friends in my life. They (Rachel, Janna, Janet, Deb, et al) keep me sane.
How about you – which SATC character are you and why?
Why all the fuss and the sacrifice of sleep? Premier Tickets to see Sex and the City 2.
By saying ‘Premier,’ I am not referring to opening night. The movie will actually open the day before (which I find odd – what movie opens on a Thursday?) But for me, Premier means seeing the movie in a very posh fashion. Here in Boca, our movie theater has an upstairs restaurant, bar and theater. The seating is assigned and they are comfortable, plush love seats. There is real food and cocktails for purchase and free popcorn with an assortment of optional flavorings. I was first introduced to seeing a movie in this elite fashion by my friend Di when we saw Dreamgirls a few years ago. Since then I refer to seeing a movie in regular seats as ‘sitting in steerage.’
It was here that I saw the first Sex and the City (SATC) movie in 2008 with 7 other bright, beautiful women. This time around, I strived to bring even more lovely women to celebrate the movie with me. And after my early morning ticket buying – I stand triumphant.
I was late-comer in the game with regards to SATC the TV show. I rented the first season on DVD on a whim, intending the rental to be a balance and distraction for a Super Bowl Party and ended up watching it straight through. I absolutely fell in love with the characters and the writing. I was single at the time, and the story lines spoke to me in volumes.
After my first taste of the show on DVD, I upped my cable package with a subscription to HBO. Every Sunday night was eagerly awaited. Many times I hosted Cosmo nights at my humble little abode. (To this day, give me a good bottle of vodka, cranberry juice, Cointreau, a lime wedge and a shaker and I will make you the best Cosmopolitan you’ve ever had.)
When the finale of the show aired, me and one of my best friends sat crossed legged, inches from the TV as to not miss a minute. (And to drown out loud, playing children in the background.) Tears rolled down my face when Big announced to Carrie, “you’re the one.”
When the first SATC movie came out, I eagerly invited friends to share the experience with me. It was one of my best memories ever.
This time, I have upped the ante and there will be 15 other women with me, watching the ever important story line with me.
I am SO not a joiner, so I have wondered, what makes SATC so special to me?
Firstly, character association. I have taken several tests to determine which SATC character I am most like.
As much as I want it to be Samantha, most of the time, test results proclaim that I am Charlotte. The Do-gooder, the planner. The One Who Wants to Marry. (Egads- and please send help.) But, this association is not all bad. Charlotte is a sticky glue that keeps the girls together. Her Pollyannaish view of the world is not entirely unlike mine. I have a firm belief that everything will work out well – as it is supposed to.
Occasionally, I get the Carrie result. The writer. The one who documents for all of posterity.
But, I never end up with the result that I am like Miranda…even though her character (businesswoman) is a part of me as well.
To this day, my favorite scene from the HBO TV Show is the one where the four girls are having breakfast and Samantha says, “I am dating a guy with the funkiest tasting spunk.” There are quick camera angles of all of the girls exchanging looks…and then Charlotte gets up and leaves, shoving open the door of the restaurant purposefully. Miranda leans into Carrie and says in an ominous tone, “…and she’s never coming back!” I laughed out loud.
I love these fictitious women – with all of their faults and foibles.
These women represent all of us, in some way or another. It is the unending story of women’s friendships that keeps me hooked on SATC and keeps me coming back….year after year. And I am grateful beyond any words that I have women friends in my life. They (Rachel, Janna, Janet, Deb, et al) keep me sane.
How about you – which SATC character are you and why?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Blogging and Gratitude
The last few days have been busy ones, and my opportunities to touch fingertips to key board have been scant. Responsibilities have bullied my brain and directed any chance I might have to write or blog towards other priorities.
However, I did want to get back out into the blogosphere to say Thank You. To my writing coach, who has encouraged my fledgling creative process; to Di, who put my words onto page that she contributes to (trianglemom2mom.com) and to anyone who has taken the time to read what I have written, in my own little corner of the world wide web. I am humbled by the hits, the comments and warm e-mails that I have received. Though I read many blogs and am quite gifted at finding ANYTHING online, I am quite the neophyte when it comes to blogging for myself.
I have had great examples in the last several years with respects to blogging. After receiving accolades on mine recently, I did start to think about the ones that have inspired me. Regularly, I will pull up these blogs – some of the authors of are strangers to me and some are friends. I read them with great anticipation, while enjoying a cup of coffee in the morning, not unlike sitting down to read the local newspaper. I frequently refer back to some favorite posts, as well. I truly believe that anything worth reading once, is worth reading again. (Just ask the numerous shelves of my dog-eared and well loved books.) I do comment occasionally.
As a shout out and with gratitude, these are the blogs that have inspired me; hence another list.
http://dibookblogetc.typepad.com/my_weblog/ Di’s blog. It was the first one that I started to read and keep up with regularly. Initially, her blog was focused on books she had read and her reviews of them. How nervous I was to make the initial book recommendation to her! Di’s book reviews on her blog were interspersed with tales of her family life, which were always entertaining, lively and succinct. It was because of her voice via the written word and our shared love of books, that I fell in “friend love” with her – which has now spanned in time 4 years and 4 states in distance.
http://backinthegoodoldworld.blogspot.com/ My friend and former co-worker Cathy’s blog. After she exited corporate, Cathy and her photographer husband, Dick traveled extensively, driving for much of it domestically and then flying abroad. Cathy’s posts are always stirring and Dick’s photos complement her words evocatively. They have recently settled in a little town in AZ, and I am anticipatory for the stories their new grounded life will bring.
http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/ Stephanie O'Dea resolved to use her Slow Cooker every day for one year beginning January 1, 2008. As an employee of the company that makes the most famous brand of Slow Cookers, I followed her blog almost religiously. She came up with some fabulous, creative recipes that year and has continued to share new dishes since then. She has now appeared on Rachael Ray and some morning shows, all the while bringing awareness to the brand that I work for and the art of Slow Cooking
http://jennnster.blogspot.com/index.html My friend Di (see above) recommended this blog to me as Jen and I were planning our weddings at pretty much the same time in 2006 / 2007. I have enjoyed reading Jen’s takes on her wedding plans, the day itself, being a Mom, buying a home and most recently, being unemployed. Jen has a very real and honest voice that resonates.
http://motherhooduncensored.typepad.com/ Kristen Chase is an unorthodox voice for mommies. She tells is like it is with no holds barred about motherhood, breastfeeding, being a wife, in-laws (dubbed “sin-laws”) and sex. Reading her blog will remind you of the time you split a bottle of wine with a good friend and let the epitaphs fly. She also hosts a radio show http://www.mominatrixradio.com/ about having a spicy bedroom life…while being a parent.
http://ramseyandpablo.com/ (Okay so this is more an “official website” than a blog, but I still love it.) Chad Dressen is just a regular mid-western guy, with a knack for catching his two dogs (a female Doberman, Ramsey and a male Chihuahua, Pablo) doing hilarious things on film. I tuned into his youtube videos just as their popularity was turning into a phenomenon. I am even more of a fan as Chad has turned the popularity of the pups into an opportunity to promote animal activism.
http://amammainthemaking.com/ My writing coach’s blog. For quite awhile, I had been struggling with how to incorporate and / or manage the creative writer within me. Cricket only posts every so often, but her words are always meaningful and evocative. This inspiring woman has gently prodded me onto a creative path…of writing. Writing has always been in my character, but it just took a wise soul to help me get it out. She is extremely artistic, in many venues and is always an inspiration. I admire her not only for her writing, but also for the person / woman / mother / partner that she is. I am also very grateful for the guidance she has provided me.
My choices in blog reading may be a bit eclectic – but that’s probably in keeping with my personality. I am always open to reading more, so I ask you, what are your favorite blogs? And why do you read them?
And again, I humbly thank you for reading mine.
However, I did want to get back out into the blogosphere to say Thank You. To my writing coach, who has encouraged my fledgling creative process; to Di, who put my words onto page that she contributes to (trianglemom2mom.com) and to anyone who has taken the time to read what I have written, in my own little corner of the world wide web. I am humbled by the hits, the comments and warm e-mails that I have received. Though I read many blogs and am quite gifted at finding ANYTHING online, I am quite the neophyte when it comes to blogging for myself.
I have had great examples in the last several years with respects to blogging. After receiving accolades on mine recently, I did start to think about the ones that have inspired me. Regularly, I will pull up these blogs – some of the authors of are strangers to me and some are friends. I read them with great anticipation, while enjoying a cup of coffee in the morning, not unlike sitting down to read the local newspaper. I frequently refer back to some favorite posts, as well. I truly believe that anything worth reading once, is worth reading again. (Just ask the numerous shelves of my dog-eared and well loved books.) I do comment occasionally.
As a shout out and with gratitude, these are the blogs that have inspired me; hence another list.
http://dibookblogetc.typepad.com/my_weblog/ Di’s blog. It was the first one that I started to read and keep up with regularly. Initially, her blog was focused on books she had read and her reviews of them. How nervous I was to make the initial book recommendation to her! Di’s book reviews on her blog were interspersed with tales of her family life, which were always entertaining, lively and succinct. It was because of her voice via the written word and our shared love of books, that I fell in “friend love” with her – which has now spanned in time 4 years and 4 states in distance.
http://backinthegoodoldworld.blogspot.com/ My friend and former co-worker Cathy’s blog. After she exited corporate, Cathy and her photographer husband, Dick traveled extensively, driving for much of it domestically and then flying abroad. Cathy’s posts are always stirring and Dick’s photos complement her words evocatively. They have recently settled in a little town in AZ, and I am anticipatory for the stories their new grounded life will bring.
http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/ Stephanie O'Dea resolved to use her Slow Cooker every day for one year beginning January 1, 2008. As an employee of the company that makes the most famous brand of Slow Cookers, I followed her blog almost religiously. She came up with some fabulous, creative recipes that year and has continued to share new dishes since then. She has now appeared on Rachael Ray and some morning shows, all the while bringing awareness to the brand that I work for and the art of Slow Cooking
http://jennnster.blogspot.com/index.html My friend Di (see above) recommended this blog to me as Jen and I were planning our weddings at pretty much the same time in 2006 / 2007. I have enjoyed reading Jen’s takes on her wedding plans, the day itself, being a Mom, buying a home and most recently, being unemployed. Jen has a very real and honest voice that resonates.
http://motherhooduncensored.typepad.com/ Kristen Chase is an unorthodox voice for mommies. She tells is like it is with no holds barred about motherhood, breastfeeding, being a wife, in-laws (dubbed “sin-laws”) and sex. Reading her blog will remind you of the time you split a bottle of wine with a good friend and let the epitaphs fly. She also hosts a radio show http://www.mominatrixradio.com/ about having a spicy bedroom life…while being a parent.
http://ramseyandpablo.com/ (Okay so this is more an “official website” than a blog, but I still love it.) Chad Dressen is just a regular mid-western guy, with a knack for catching his two dogs (a female Doberman, Ramsey and a male Chihuahua, Pablo) doing hilarious things on film. I tuned into his youtube videos just as their popularity was turning into a phenomenon. I am even more of a fan as Chad has turned the popularity of the pups into an opportunity to promote animal activism.
http://amammainthemaking.com/ My writing coach’s blog. For quite awhile, I had been struggling with how to incorporate and / or manage the creative writer within me. Cricket only posts every so often, but her words are always meaningful and evocative. This inspiring woman has gently prodded me onto a creative path…of writing. Writing has always been in my character, but it just took a wise soul to help me get it out. She is extremely artistic, in many venues and is always an inspiration. I admire her not only for her writing, but also for the person / woman / mother / partner that she is. I am also very grateful for the guidance she has provided me.
My choices in blog reading may be a bit eclectic – but that’s probably in keeping with my personality. I am always open to reading more, so I ask you, what are your favorite blogs? And why do you read them?
And again, I humbly thank you for reading mine.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The Anniversary of a Family
Like many wives, my feelings towards my husband are not always the most charitable. The dirty shirts thrown carelessly across the back of a chair, the cereal bowls with coagulated remnants stuck to them left to rot in the sink, and the forgotten chores could all make a saint swear. And trust me, I am no saint.And don’t even get me started on the communication challenges that seem to be a universal complaint among wives. Blank stares when asked a question, monosyllabic grunts that are supposed to be proxies to an intelligent response and the selective hearing.
It was our third wedding anniversary yesterday.
With all of our current activities and near future plans, our lives have felt like a Buick trying to keep pace on the autobahn. Thus, we had decided awhile ago to keep this anniversary low key…and had casually and even dispassionately tossed out a couple of ideas about maybe somewhere to have dinner. Indeed, only a day before, with my mind trying to reprioritize which “have to” came first, did I realize that it was the day before my third anniversary – and my husband was not even home. He had left on Sunday to fly to Philadelphia for business and I, at the time, had only bitched at him about missing out on personal family time on the weekend…and didn’t even think to admonish him that he was going to miss our anniversary. He actually did make it home in time to take me to lunch and pick up my (our) daughter after school.
But yesterday, on the 3rd anniversary of the day we had pledged ourselves to each other, with one simple act, my husband reminded me about why I love him. And how much I do, which is even more deeply than the day that I married him or during those heady first weeks of falling in love with him.
It was not because of a surprise gift of jewelry or some other grandiose token of love. All of the things that we have going on in our lives require significant financial investment, so we had agreed that gifts would not be exchanged, even ones that might be “shared” like a weekend to Key West or Las Vegas. While doable, they were probably not wise decisions at this juncture.
It was not because he came home in time to take me to lunch. Lunch was nice, and I got to take him to the restaurant that I frequent during my lunch hour due to their outstanding Chicken Tortilla Soup that I have raved to him about. I found reason to get pissy during lunch, as he took a work call while we were seated together in a booth and were trying to reconnect after his absence. When a prolonged sigh did not do the trick in getting him to hang up the phone, I dropped my soup spoon onto a plate and it clattered loudly enough that other patrons looked at us.
It was not because of where he took Taylor and me to dinner. We went to Bru’s Room, which for any reader not from the South Florida area, is a popular restaurant, Sports Bar and watering hole. I gamely entered another submission into the Bad Mother of the Year Award Annual Competition (BMoTY) and sat with my 14 year old daughter in the bar portion of the restaurant. (She certainly didn’t mind – Burgers and Nachos are amongst her favorite dishes). However, my husband’s heart WAS in the right place – they had a Buzz Trivia game going on last night which is something we have enjoyed doing as a family in the past. (If you have ever played the Buzz Trivia game, BEWARE if you notice that "DTV" has logged onto the scoreboard.)
It was not what he wrote in his card to me. It was Flintstone festooned, and while he may bear a passing resemblance to Fred, I do not have red hair nor am I as wispy waisted as Wilma. But in fact, the kind, more lengthy proclamation of his love on the blank left hand side of the card had been encouraged by my daughter. She helpfully coached him that simply writing “yabba dabba do!” above his signature was not ample enough. (I have taught her well.)
It was because of his card to Taylor – which was a surprise to both me and her. She was too embarrassed by the outward display of affection from her Step-Father to read it in front of us. She ducked into another room and reappeared a few minutes later and mumbled, “touching.” I thought she was being sarcastic which would be very normal vernacular for her current teenage self. I held out my hand, and asked to see it. “Why?” she asked, “You’re just gonna cry.” She handed it to me and looked over my shoulder to read it with me. The card itself was benign, but what he had written in it, to her, was not:
“April 21, 2010
If you really think about it, this day is as much of an anniversary for you and me as it is for your Mother and myself.
Today marks the day you became my daughter. And while you might think this day does not include you, I say it is not complete without you.
These past 3 years have enriched my life and you are a significant part of that.
Happy Anniversary Daughter
Love Always.”
She was right. I cried.
Monday, April 12, 2010
All Roads Lead to Home - The Best Places
Our family has a VERY full dance card this summer. We are going on a cruise, part of which is the wedding of a good friend of mine that I am blessed to be the Matron of Honor for. Our cruise ports in Key West and Cozumel, Mexico. 1 day after we return home, I am sending Taylor to sleep away camp for 2 weeks. For the duration of which we cannot be in contact. (Which she likely feels is a blessing.) After Tay spends several more days in Maine after camp ends, she will then fly down to NYC to stay with close friends of ours, where we will meet her a few days later in mid July for a long weekend as a family.
After several weeks of work (for us adults) and babysitting (for Tay) at home, we will then all go to Maine for a State Fair in August.
September ushers in birthday season, and I will also host my Sister’s Bridal Shower and Bachelorette weekend, which will take place in Key West.
So many moving parts….so many places to be. I look forward to all of the events that I get to be a part of….but all of this planning got me thinking…where are my favorite places (that I have been) on Earth?
(Note to the reader: I have not traveled extensively outside of the US, but have been to most States within the continental US)
Here are my top ten (so far,):
Monterey, CA: This little seaside town was made famous by John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. Now very touristy, it has retained some of its quaintness and is a less expensive alternative to its sister city to the South. I also had to proclaim this one a shout out as it was the location of my most important conception.
San Francisco, CA: What’s not to love? The diversity, the cultures, the architecture are almost all unique to this beautiful city on the bay. Stroll through Chinatown, take a ferry to Alcatraz, amble through Pier 39. I was so happy and proud to take my personal living, breathing souvenir of ’95 back to San Fran and Monterey in the Summer of 2004.
Cocoa Beach, FL: A gorgeous, neglected piece of Florida’s Northeast coast, it was home to me for a short time in my early 20’s. As a part of the Space Coast, it has struggled to hold its own. I was here during the first shuttle take off after the Challenger, which in this town, at the time, was a momentous occasion.
Washington DC: Believe it or not, all of the greatest pieces of history are available to be seen at no cost. The first time I passed through here, I remember seeing the Constitution, the original document, under a thick piece of glass… and thinking, “Oh My God, I am reading the REAL Constitution!” I have since brought my daughter back to this place, once, with my Sister Lara when they also got to experience the Holocaust Museum among many other historical places and again when I sent her with her 5th Grade class.
Chicago, IL: I visited this town for the first time as an accident. I was stuck (as I am sure many have been) on a layover in O’Hare. I spent the night many miles away from the airport in an uptown Hilton. I tried to get a slice of pizza the next day in a highly recommended Pizza place. After confirming that I was “lunch for one,” the host asked me if I wanted to have pizza. I looked around me and affirmed, “Yes, pizza for one.” He then advised that the restaurant had run out of cheese. (WTF?) One nursed beer and one HEAVY piece of Chicago pizza 2 hours later, I was one my way to the airport. I was impressed by the city, and its history…but not by it’s pizza. Too thick.
New York City, NY: I went to this city for the first time to try to save my marriage; I was scared of everything and very young. The second time, I came when my Father was fighting for his life in Upstate NY, and he challenged me to take my Mom and my Sisters to the city, while he was having a quintuple bypass, which I did. The third time was just for me (and Tay) I was lucky enough that good friends of ours lived on the Upper East Side. My friend Deb, Taylor and I got to experience the city like locals. I am looking forward to doing it again soon,
Bentonville, AZ: Yes, the birthplace of Wal-Mart. I found this little funky conundrum of a small town burg to be right up my alley. A mix of past and present, it contains small town living and big business all in one little cow patch. Plus, the best burger I have EVER had was in a little burger place right next door to the Wal-Mart Museum.
Milo, ME: I was truly a fish out of water in Maine. I had zero experience with the quiet country living, but I found my husband’s hometown to be beautiful beyond words. What an amazing family he has…and I get to be part of it! What amazing New England homes. How I wanted to sneak across the street and see how THEIR home looked! (Those of you who know me know which home I am talkin’ about!) Milo has become a part of my heritage as well, and I am thankful and anticipatory. I am now also appeciative that this area will be part of Taylor’s upbringing.
Boca Raton / Delray Beach, FL: I am a sucker for being at home. I live in paradise…and I for that I am lucky. Believe me, I never forget how beautiful my hometown is or how wonderful my life is.
Key West, FL: This town holds my heart. I have visited endless times, I have shelves of books about it, I now know endless tales about its history and some of its more famous (and infamous) inhabitants. I now have friends and acquaintances there. I can point out and name the architecture when driving past it…Eyebrow, Bahamian, Queen Anne…all beautiful to me. There is such a sense of acceptance and love in this little island town that boasts such a great history.
Like some sort of groupie, I keep striving for even bigger stars in my travels. But, I have a feeling the all of the roads will lead me right back home.
Where are your favorite places?
After several weeks of work (for us adults) and babysitting (for Tay) at home, we will then all go to Maine for a State Fair in August.
September ushers in birthday season, and I will also host my Sister’s Bridal Shower and Bachelorette weekend, which will take place in Key West.
So many moving parts….so many places to be. I look forward to all of the events that I get to be a part of….but all of this planning got me thinking…where are my favorite places (that I have been) on Earth?
(Note to the reader: I have not traveled extensively outside of the US, but have been to most States within the continental US)
Here are my top ten (so far,):
Monterey, CA: This little seaside town was made famous by John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. Now very touristy, it has retained some of its quaintness and is a less expensive alternative to its sister city to the South. I also had to proclaim this one a shout out as it was the location of my most important conception.
San Francisco, CA: What’s not to love? The diversity, the cultures, the architecture are almost all unique to this beautiful city on the bay. Stroll through Chinatown, take a ferry to Alcatraz, amble through Pier 39. I was so happy and proud to take my personal living, breathing souvenir of ’95 back to San Fran and Monterey in the Summer of 2004.
Cocoa Beach, FL: A gorgeous, neglected piece of Florida’s Northeast coast, it was home to me for a short time in my early 20’s. As a part of the Space Coast, it has struggled to hold its own. I was here during the first shuttle take off after the Challenger, which in this town, at the time, was a momentous occasion.
Washington DC: Believe it or not, all of the greatest pieces of history are available to be seen at no cost. The first time I passed through here, I remember seeing the Constitution, the original document, under a thick piece of glass… and thinking, “Oh My God, I am reading the REAL Constitution!” I have since brought my daughter back to this place, once, with my Sister Lara when they also got to experience the Holocaust Museum among many other historical places and again when I sent her with her 5th Grade class.
Chicago, IL: I visited this town for the first time as an accident. I was stuck (as I am sure many have been) on a layover in O’Hare. I spent the night many miles away from the airport in an uptown Hilton. I tried to get a slice of pizza the next day in a highly recommended Pizza place. After confirming that I was “lunch for one,” the host asked me if I wanted to have pizza. I looked around me and affirmed, “Yes, pizza for one.” He then advised that the restaurant had run out of cheese. (WTF?) One nursed beer and one HEAVY piece of Chicago pizza 2 hours later, I was one my way to the airport. I was impressed by the city, and its history…but not by it’s pizza. Too thick.
New York City, NY: I went to this city for the first time to try to save my marriage; I was scared of everything and very young. The second time, I came when my Father was fighting for his life in Upstate NY, and he challenged me to take my Mom and my Sisters to the city, while he was having a quintuple bypass, which I did. The third time was just for me (and Tay) I was lucky enough that good friends of ours lived on the Upper East Side. My friend Deb, Taylor and I got to experience the city like locals. I am looking forward to doing it again soon,
Bentonville, AZ: Yes, the birthplace of Wal-Mart. I found this little funky conundrum of a small town burg to be right up my alley. A mix of past and present, it contains small town living and big business all in one little cow patch. Plus, the best burger I have EVER had was in a little burger place right next door to the Wal-Mart Museum.
Milo, ME: I was truly a fish out of water in Maine. I had zero experience with the quiet country living, but I found my husband’s hometown to be beautiful beyond words. What an amazing family he has…and I get to be part of it! What amazing New England homes. How I wanted to sneak across the street and see how THEIR home looked! (Those of you who know me know which home I am talkin’ about!) Milo has become a part of my heritage as well, and I am thankful and anticipatory. I am now also appeciative that this area will be part of Taylor’s upbringing.
Boca Raton / Delray Beach, FL: I am a sucker for being at home. I live in paradise…and I for that I am lucky. Believe me, I never forget how beautiful my hometown is or how wonderful my life is.
Key West, FL: This town holds my heart. I have visited endless times, I have shelves of books about it, I now know endless tales about its history and some of its more famous (and infamous) inhabitants. I now have friends and acquaintances there. I can point out and name the architecture when driving past it…Eyebrow, Bahamian, Queen Anne…all beautiful to me. There is such a sense of acceptance and love in this little island town that boasts such a great history.
Like some sort of groupie, I keep striving for even bigger stars in my travels. But, I have a feeling the all of the roads will lead me right back home.
Where are your favorite places?
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Here We Go Again
I bought my first home nearly 18 years ago when I was 23 years old and a newly-wed. I was so proud of the modest 2 story, 2 bedroom, 2 ½ bath Townhouse in Delray Beach, which boasted 1,288 square feet of living space. It had a large fenced in patio, no lawn to speak of and is identical to many quad-type residences with the wood shake shingle slanted roof that are ubiquitous here in South Florida.
This is where I still live today.
I have lived at this address now longer than anywhere else in my life. In these walls I spent the all days of my first marriage; experienced my one and only pregnancy (the actual conception was off premises – but that is another blog post). Later, I became a divorcee and single Mother, student, then career woman. I met my wonderful 2nd husband, Donnie, on this patio 12 years ago. He and I cohabitated here and it is where we have spent the first three years of our married life. My daughter, now 14, was raised here. Her home address has not changed since birth.
The Townhouse has been my calm in the not-so-proverbial storm. I have protected it as best as I could, as it has protected me, from the numerous hurricanes that have plagued this area. I have nailed up plywood over the windows and once to the patio gate in an irrational fear of looters. After Hurricane Wilma did the worst damage, tearing the wooden fence out of the ground and ripping out the South side of the mansards, I managed to get myself voted onto the HOA Board of Directors. This was so that I could ensure the passing of a document change that would put the responsibility of the mansards into the hands of the Association and then helped manage the project to get all of wood mansards in the Community changed to a uniform stone-coated steel. (To the winds of our next hurricane, as long as they don’t exceed 150 miles an hour, I say: Bring. It. On.)
Despite the Townhome’s smallish size, it has been large enough that I have been able to host family and friends for sleepovers and provided longer-term shelter for friends in transition. I have thrown everything from a small informal dinner party for 4 in the dining room to a more lavish catered Champagne brunch for 25 al fresco on the patio. I have had Happy Hours, play-dates, surprise birthday parties, movie discussions, SATC Cosmo nights, Trivia and Scrabble competitions and many, many just me and Tay “ST”s (which means ‘special time.’) here.
I have lived a life here.
However, even before Donnie moved in with Taylor and I in Fall of 2004, I had been experiencing a feeling that perhaps I…or we, had outgrown our little home. Once he moved in, the walls were definitely bursting at the seams.
In August of 2008, right towards the end of the housing boom, we put the place up for sale. Unfortunately, our timing also coincided with the recession and the dearth of the housing market. During the ensuing 12 months, we had quite a few showings. We’d get a phone call from an agent and one of us would have to rush home in the middle of the work day to do a last minute spiff-up and take the dogs out of the house for an hour time frame. This made for an uncomfortable, tenuous and stressful existence. After a year of doing this, our listing expired without us ever receiving an offer. Donnie and I opted to let it remain off the market. I stopped dreaming and bookmarking pages on realestate.com and chose instead to sit back, take a breather and to lick my Real Estate wounds rather than jump right back in to the craziness again.
Last month, I had finally saved enough money to put a down payment on a new car. I have lusted after the Toyota Prius ever since I drove one as a rental several years ago. My sister works for Toyota, so between the Family and Friends dealer pricing and the financial incentives that Toyota has been tossing out like beads on Mardi Gras since their recent recall troubles, the timing seemed right.
My family (consisting of Donnie and Taylor) did a quick about-face at the news of my car-buying intentions. They both knew that given lenders’ skittishness in today’s economic climate that me buying a car would mean the end of any hope of moving for at least the next several years. I was vetoed. In my own family.
Thus, this morning, I signed another contract with our Realtor. (Who has had my implicit trust and my back since High School and who’s acronym is the trendy BFF.)
Once again, we are off to the Real Estate rat race. Endless days of keeping our home “show-ready” and allowing strangers to tramp and poke through it and pass judgment. Nights of hoping all will work out, searching online Real Estate sites for a potential new home and number crunching on the waiting spreadsheets as to how much we will make if the house sells for X dollars and what our future mortgage payments may look like.
I am melancholy and conflicted about the whole exercise. Naturally, I am excited about the prospect of moving and making a new house into a home for our family. But, I feel that just recently I was finally at a place of acceptance that this little Townhome would be our permanent residence – sometimes you have to readjust your dreams to welcome new ones, right? As mentioned, this place has not been so bad, and has housed many, many memories that make it a home. Additionally, I am still experiencing the sting of not even getting one stinking, even lousy offer during the year that the house was for sale previously. (Not unlike the feeling of being picked last for kickball when I was in grade school.)
In the end, I am afraid I may have jinxed myself. I am remembering the words that I uttered as a proclamation when moving in here, oh-so-many-years-ago, with my first husband, after a very prolonged mortgage approval process and the back-breaking work of unloading a U-haul with all of our meager belongings (we couldn’t afford movers.) Sweeping my arm towards the towards the cubby closet under the stairs, I said, “You’ll have to bury me under those stairs, because I am never moving again!”
Here’s hoping those were not “famous last words.”
This is where I still live today.
I have lived at this address now longer than anywhere else in my life. In these walls I spent the all days of my first marriage; experienced my one and only pregnancy (the actual conception was off premises – but that is another blog post). Later, I became a divorcee and single Mother, student, then career woman. I met my wonderful 2nd husband, Donnie, on this patio 12 years ago. He and I cohabitated here and it is where we have spent the first three years of our married life. My daughter, now 14, was raised here. Her home address has not changed since birth.
The Townhouse has been my calm in the not-so-proverbial storm. I have protected it as best as I could, as it has protected me, from the numerous hurricanes that have plagued this area. I have nailed up plywood over the windows and once to the patio gate in an irrational fear of looters. After Hurricane Wilma did the worst damage, tearing the wooden fence out of the ground and ripping out the South side of the mansards, I managed to get myself voted onto the HOA Board of Directors. This was so that I could ensure the passing of a document change that would put the responsibility of the mansards into the hands of the Association and then helped manage the project to get all of wood mansards in the Community changed to a uniform stone-coated steel. (To the winds of our next hurricane, as long as they don’t exceed 150 miles an hour, I say: Bring. It. On.)
Despite the Townhome’s smallish size, it has been large enough that I have been able to host family and friends for sleepovers and provided longer-term shelter for friends in transition. I have thrown everything from a small informal dinner party for 4 in the dining room to a more lavish catered Champagne brunch for 25 al fresco on the patio. I have had Happy Hours, play-dates, surprise birthday parties, movie discussions, SATC Cosmo nights, Trivia and Scrabble competitions and many, many just me and Tay “ST”s (which means ‘special time.’) here.
I have lived a life here.
However, even before Donnie moved in with Taylor and I in Fall of 2004, I had been experiencing a feeling that perhaps I…or we, had outgrown our little home. Once he moved in, the walls were definitely bursting at the seams.
In August of 2008, right towards the end of the housing boom, we put the place up for sale. Unfortunately, our timing also coincided with the recession and the dearth of the housing market. During the ensuing 12 months, we had quite a few showings. We’d get a phone call from an agent and one of us would have to rush home in the middle of the work day to do a last minute spiff-up and take the dogs out of the house for an hour time frame. This made for an uncomfortable, tenuous and stressful existence. After a year of doing this, our listing expired without us ever receiving an offer. Donnie and I opted to let it remain off the market. I stopped dreaming and bookmarking pages on realestate.com and chose instead to sit back, take a breather and to lick my Real Estate wounds rather than jump right back in to the craziness again.
Last month, I had finally saved enough money to put a down payment on a new car. I have lusted after the Toyota Prius ever since I drove one as a rental several years ago. My sister works for Toyota, so between the Family and Friends dealer pricing and the financial incentives that Toyota has been tossing out like beads on Mardi Gras since their recent recall troubles, the timing seemed right.
My family (consisting of Donnie and Taylor) did a quick about-face at the news of my car-buying intentions. They both knew that given lenders’ skittishness in today’s economic climate that me buying a car would mean the end of any hope of moving for at least the next several years. I was vetoed. In my own family.
Thus, this morning, I signed another contract with our Realtor. (Who has had my implicit trust and my back since High School and who’s acronym is the trendy BFF.)
Once again, we are off to the Real Estate rat race. Endless days of keeping our home “show-ready” and allowing strangers to tramp and poke through it and pass judgment. Nights of hoping all will work out, searching online Real Estate sites for a potential new home and number crunching on the waiting spreadsheets as to how much we will make if the house sells for X dollars and what our future mortgage payments may look like.
I am melancholy and conflicted about the whole exercise. Naturally, I am excited about the prospect of moving and making a new house into a home for our family. But, I feel that just recently I was finally at a place of acceptance that this little Townhome would be our permanent residence – sometimes you have to readjust your dreams to welcome new ones, right? As mentioned, this place has not been so bad, and has housed many, many memories that make it a home. Additionally, I am still experiencing the sting of not even getting one stinking, even lousy offer during the year that the house was for sale previously. (Not unlike the feeling of being picked last for kickball when I was in grade school.)
In the end, I am afraid I may have jinxed myself. I am remembering the words that I uttered as a proclamation when moving in here, oh-so-many-years-ago, with my first husband, after a very prolonged mortgage approval process and the back-breaking work of unloading a U-haul with all of our meager belongings (we couldn’t afford movers.) Sweeping my arm towards the towards the cubby closet under the stairs, I said, “You’ll have to bury me under those stairs, because I am never moving again!”
Here’s hoping those were not “famous last words.”
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