As I was standing outside this morning the sky was blue, yet gentle rain was falling on me. In my reflections of the past year, I couldn't help tear up thinking about the loss of my loved ones. I felt they heard me and their teardrops were falling from Heaven. It stopped my tears and made me smile.
Rather than wallow in sadness thinking about past memories, and future ones we'll never make together, I vow to honor my loved ones by dedicating each book I write to one of them. They've all touched me in special ways and each one contributed something to the person I am.
My story ideas feel like the horses at Belmont waiting for the bell to ring and the gate to go up so they could sprint down the track. This time getting to the finish line won't take three years, like it did with Fractured Facade. Although cathartic, it was painful to relive over and over again. I'm thankful to all the readers who have given me such positive feedback. It's validation that I haven't wasted my time.
Although I'm not a bestselling author, yet, I'm grateful I had the opportunity to share my story by self-publishing and chose not to kowtow to the "rules." I make my own rules, and if I fail, I have no one to blame but myself.
If 2011 taught me anything, it's to not listen to other people. Go with your instincts. Take chances. Don't be afraid to expose yourself. And if people don't support you, and don't bring anything positive to your table, cut them out of your life. They'll only fill you with self-doubt and bring you down.
My mantra for 2012 is Reach for the Stars! If you don't, you'll never know what you're capable of. My wish to all of you is to do the same...
Showing posts with label reflections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflections. Show all posts
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Roanoke Thanksgiving Traditions
I love Thanksgiving. It's like Christmas without the stress of presents. It's the kick-off. It's when I find it acceptable to start listening to Christmas carols. It's when Christmas shows can be watched. It's when "March of the Wooden Soldiers" is supposed to air, like it did every Thanksgiving on WPIX in NYC. Here in Roanoke, VA, it never does. It doesn't matter anymore. My family got tired of hearing me complain about it, so now I own two dvd's of it, both colorized. I like the black and white version better.
Of course, I'll watch the parade in the background as I'm preparing the foodstuffs. I'll think back to the days I saw those balloons in person on my way to work at ABC News. It won't make me sad. I have Virginia traditions now. The transformation of the house will commence. In the sun room, my husband will watch the Cowboys. Instead of a beer in his hand, a string of broken Christmas lights to clothe a naked deer, will be. I'll time the dinner to begin before the game does. I will fail miserably, and the best my husband can hope for is halftime.
Friends will drift in and out. I'll cajole someone to stay for dinner. If we have enough folks, Pokeno will be played afterwards. Then dessert. Still haven't decided on that yet, but have been busy getting everything else in order. Two loaves of bread have been cut and placed in a huge glass bowl, waiting to get hard from the fresh air. I'll toss them every couple of hours. The peppers have been roasted and are awaiting to be peeled. The hard boiled eggs are to be deviled in the morning. The gravy stock vegetables will be cut up. The stuffing vegetables will be peeled and chopped. The rest will happen tomorrow.
I love Thanksgiving. It's the anticipation of Christmas.
Enjoy your traditions!
Of course, I'll watch the parade in the background as I'm preparing the foodstuffs. I'll think back to the days I saw those balloons in person on my way to work at ABC News. It won't make me sad. I have Virginia traditions now. The transformation of the house will commence. In the sun room, my husband will watch the Cowboys. Instead of a beer in his hand, a string of broken Christmas lights to clothe a naked deer, will be. I'll time the dinner to begin before the game does. I will fail miserably, and the best my husband can hope for is halftime.
Friends will drift in and out. I'll cajole someone to stay for dinner. If we have enough folks, Pokeno will be played afterwards. Then dessert. Still haven't decided on that yet, but have been busy getting everything else in order. Two loaves of bread have been cut and placed in a huge glass bowl, waiting to get hard from the fresh air. I'll toss them every couple of hours. The peppers have been roasted and are awaiting to be peeled. The hard boiled eggs are to be deviled in the morning. The gravy stock vegetables will be cut up. The stuffing vegetables will be peeled and chopped. The rest will happen tomorrow.
I love Thanksgiving. It's the anticipation of Christmas.
Enjoy your traditions!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Daddy Knows...
Dear Daddy,
It's been quite a while since we've spoken. It's not your fault, nor is it mine. It is what it is. I thought I would catch you up on what's been going on down here.
Your grandson will be entering his second year of college aiming for a Computer Science degree. His grades are okay, and would be much better if he gave even a smidgen of effort. Remember how we thought he was the smartest kid ever when he was two? I remember how you sat with him and taught him every state's shape. He could rattle them off and then put them in a puzzle all the while with the pacifier still in his mouth. You wanted me to get him on Conan, not Letterman "he's too mean" but I pooh-poohed you thinking all two year olds could do that. Apparently they can't.
He also has been working over a year at an auto parts store. He has our work ethic -- he's never been late, never called in sick, and everyone wants to work with him. He's "this close" to a promotion. It all depends on a vacancy being left by the assistant manager if he gets his transfer. It's a two-edged sword in my eyes. He likes money. He likes saving money. He likes spending money. He likes working so much at times he wonders why he has to bother with college at all. I'm trying my best to at least make him get an Associates Degree.
Now your granddaughter is another story. She is a mini-me, which as you know is not always a good thing. She puts too much pressure on herself to be the best that she can. It hasn't been easy for her, what with her medical conditions and all, but it's not stopping her. She's still attending two high schools and majoring in Mass Communications. Yes, like both of us she loves all things media related. We go to the movies weekly and luckily have the same taste. I'm sure you would agree with our reviews too. By the way, she's a fantastic editor and producer. Her little lisp, and Raggedy Ann scars will probably prevent her from being in front of the camera, but her instructor says she's one of the best students he's ever had. She begins interning at a local television station in a couple of weeks and she's very excited.
Remember how you used to read to her and was astonished when she took the book out of your hand and read to you when she was only two? Well she still always has a book in her hand and now she's waiting on her SAT scores. She retook the test recently as the first time she took it she didn't score high enough for her liking. I imagine it would be hard to score well when one has a constant pounding headache. Just so you know, I've taken her to quite a few doctors and I'm hopeful we finally found one who will take care of that problem. Also, this will be the first summer in years that she hasn't undergone surgery, so we are making progress. Anyway her goal is to attend JMU. It's pretty tough to get into it but she's determined. It's also pretty expensive but I'm determined to make it happen for her. You do realize if she is accepted and attends she will be the first girl in the family to ever go to college. I don't think you'll have to worry about her partying up a storm or anything like that. She's on a mission and nothing will deter her.
Now as for me. Well, it's been tough not talking with you. I still remember your phone number and dial it from time to time. You never answer. I wouldn't want to burden you with my problems but it would still be nice to just talk about it once in a while. My bones ache and it takes me a little longer to get out of bed in the mornings now, but I won't allow it to stop me. You always said walking was the best exercise and I agree so every day I walk a couple of miles along the river although I long to walk a couple of miles through the streets of Manhattan like you used to.
The pain in my bones paled compared to the pain in my heart as I wrote my book. Yes, Daddy, I actually finished it. It's called "Oblivious." Reliving the experiences, it tore apart my soul at times. I could barely see some of the letters on my keyboard now. Don't know if that was from tears, or from so many revisions. I said I would write the story that needed to be written, and I did. I know I always said I would dedicate my first book to you, and I will. I never imagined that the first book I wrote would be about you.
Well, that's about it for now. I hope you continue to visit me in my dreams and around the house. You don't scare us, well, you don't scare me, your grandchildren sometimes get a little freaked out. It's not the same as being with us in person, but if that's all we can get, we'll take it. Just know your grandchildren and I love and miss you dearly. I think you would be very proud of them and hopefully me too. Remember how I thought I could never be a good mother and you told me I would be, and then was, the best? Thank you. Happy Father's Day. And oh, one more thing, you were right, about so many things. I'm sorry I didn't realize it and tell you when you were alive.
I can still hear your voice saying..."Daddy knows..."
It's been quite a while since we've spoken. It's not your fault, nor is it mine. It is what it is. I thought I would catch you up on what's been going on down here.
Your grandson will be entering his second year of college aiming for a Computer Science degree. His grades are okay, and would be much better if he gave even a smidgen of effort. Remember how we thought he was the smartest kid ever when he was two? I remember how you sat with him and taught him every state's shape. He could rattle them off and then put them in a puzzle all the while with the pacifier still in his mouth. You wanted me to get him on Conan, not Letterman "he's too mean" but I pooh-poohed you thinking all two year olds could do that. Apparently they can't.
He also has been working over a year at an auto parts store. He has our work ethic -- he's never been late, never called in sick, and everyone wants to work with him. He's "this close" to a promotion. It all depends on a vacancy being left by the assistant manager if he gets his transfer. It's a two-edged sword in my eyes. He likes money. He likes saving money. He likes spending money. He likes working so much at times he wonders why he has to bother with college at all. I'm trying my best to at least make him get an Associates Degree.
Now your granddaughter is another story. She is a mini-me, which as you know is not always a good thing. She puts too much pressure on herself to be the best that she can. It hasn't been easy for her, what with her medical conditions and all, but it's not stopping her. She's still attending two high schools and majoring in Mass Communications. Yes, like both of us she loves all things media related. We go to the movies weekly and luckily have the same taste. I'm sure you would agree with our reviews too. By the way, she's a fantastic editor and producer. Her little lisp, and Raggedy Ann scars will probably prevent her from being in front of the camera, but her instructor says she's one of the best students he's ever had. She begins interning at a local television station in a couple of weeks and she's very excited.
Remember how you used to read to her and was astonished when she took the book out of your hand and read to you when she was only two? Well she still always has a book in her hand and now she's waiting on her SAT scores. She retook the test recently as the first time she took it she didn't score high enough for her liking. I imagine it would be hard to score well when one has a constant pounding headache. Just so you know, I've taken her to quite a few doctors and I'm hopeful we finally found one who will take care of that problem. Also, this will be the first summer in years that she hasn't undergone surgery, so we are making progress. Anyway her goal is to attend JMU. It's pretty tough to get into it but she's determined. It's also pretty expensive but I'm determined to make it happen for her. You do realize if she is accepted and attends she will be the first girl in the family to ever go to college. I don't think you'll have to worry about her partying up a storm or anything like that. She's on a mission and nothing will deter her.
Now as for me. Well, it's been tough not talking with you. I still remember your phone number and dial it from time to time. You never answer. I wouldn't want to burden you with my problems but it would still be nice to just talk about it once in a while. My bones ache and it takes me a little longer to get out of bed in the mornings now, but I won't allow it to stop me. You always said walking was the best exercise and I agree so every day I walk a couple of miles along the river although I long to walk a couple of miles through the streets of Manhattan like you used to.
The pain in my bones paled compared to the pain in my heart as I wrote my book. Yes, Daddy, I actually finished it. It's called "Oblivious." Reliving the experiences, it tore apart my soul at times. I could barely see some of the letters on my keyboard now. Don't know if that was from tears, or from so many revisions. I said I would write the story that needed to be written, and I did. I know I always said I would dedicate my first book to you, and I will. I never imagined that the first book I wrote would be about you.
Well, that's about it for now. I hope you continue to visit me in my dreams and around the house. You don't scare us, well, you don't scare me, your grandchildren sometimes get a little freaked out. It's not the same as being with us in person, but if that's all we can get, we'll take it. Just know your grandchildren and I love and miss you dearly. I think you would be very proud of them and hopefully me too. Remember how I thought I could never be a good mother and you told me I would be, and then was, the best? Thank you. Happy Father's Day. And oh, one more thing, you were right, about so many things. I'm sorry I didn't realize it and tell you when you were alive.
I can still hear your voice saying..."Daddy knows..."
Monday, January 3, 2011
My 2011 Roanoke Wish List
My Roanoke Wish List for 2011, in no particular order:
A daily newspaper that I can subscribe to and enjoy with my morning coffee. My husband requests one that has a decent sports section, which offers more than high school and college sports and doesn't ignore professional teams which are not the local favorites. Every time I get back from New York I lament that I don't have the "luxury" of reading three daily newspapers (two tabloid-sized ones, my preference) before my day begins. I read them on-line, but it's just not the same as getting newsprint on my fingertips.
A bakery. A real bakery, not a seedy looking storefront that has a refrigerator with drinks in it instead of dough, one burnt crescent roll on its shelf, and nothing in its glass case, yet has the nerve to put the word bakery on its sign. When you "sell out" so early in the day, you bake more. You're a "bakery"...you should bake. This is what in the inside of a bakery should look like...it should be warm, inviting, filled with the aroma of baked bread, cakes, cookies and pastries...
By the way, it's been my experience that most if not all the cakes, pastries and cookies that look so pretty in the filled glass cases of the local supermarkets, even the "upscale" one, pretty much stink.
A real/good, hey I'll settle for decent, Chinese restaurant that delivers, haha! Or not. Buffet, buffet, buffet is the life-blood of most popular local Chinese restaurants. Recently I sampled one in Salem whose Chinese specialties included pigs in a blanket, mini corn cobs, dried fried chicken wings and mussels the size of my fist with melted American cheese on them. I almost threw up just looking at them. There were no vegetables except the mini cobbettes floating in dirty water, or the wilted broccoli smothered in sweet, thick sauces in the meat dishes. No matter what meat we sampled it all tasted the same. The slop they laid out was gross, but it's been around awhile and the locals seem to love it. I will never eat at Die Nasty again. This is what made to order Chinese dumplings with homemade sauce (not just a packet of soy sauce) and freshly fried noodles looks like:
A diner. Just a diner. Not a buffet. Not a pancake or waffle house. Not a psuedo-coffee shop. Not a pretentious and tasteless cafe. Just a diner. And one that's open after midnight, at least on weekends.
*On second thought...After the last couple of weeks of unabashed indulgence ignited by New York City's edible offerings resulting in added pounds, I probably should be grateful that my wish for a bakery, Chinese restaurant/delivery service, and diner will go unfulfilled.*
Tolerance and Respect. Even if we don't agree politically there's no reason why you have to be rude about it. I disagree politically with a good portion of my New York City friends and it means nothing to either side. We've been friends forever and will continue to be. We might "tease" each other once in a while but that's it. And then...We let it go. We don't "defriend" each other over it. We have respect and tolerance for our individual stances. It doesn't matter who we like politically...we still like each other personally.
Less Religion. It should not matter where, or even if, I go to church. In New York, my friends are from various religious backgrounds, or, not at all. I don't care. They don't care. In fact our religious preferences never even come up so why does it here? Why do Baptists run away when they hear we are Catholics, and not even "good" ones at that? It's not like we have a hotline to the Pope. I've seen boys break up with my daughter as soon as she answers the dreaded but inevitable religion question, and have had grown women recoil in horror from me. Too little tolerance of people who have different, or no, religious beliefs.
Less Damn Yankee talk. Yes, I am sick of it. The Civil War is over. The south lost. Get over it. Again, up north we never spoke about it in daily conversation. If someone had an accent different than ours we didn't snarl and make a rude Confederate comment about the rednecks taking over and ruining our city. We never said, "That's the way we've always done things here...if you don't like it, leave." Just because "that's the way it's always been done here" doesn't mean it can't be improved upon. Stop being so close-minded. And by the way, my ancestors had nothing to do with the Civil War. They were too busy dancing on the rim of a volcano in Naples or getting conquered in Sicily.
A Local Writer's/Arts Group. I miss the camaraderie I've had in the past up in New York with creative folk who shared their work and welcomed feedback. E-mail has coldly replaced the across-the-table, and on-the-couch personal interaction. Placing an emoticon after a sentence does not invoke the same response as looking into someones eyes or watching their hands move as they speak. We didn't have to wait minutes, hours or even days for a response. It was spontaneous, instantaneous and sparked the creativity. One idea led to another to another to another. We were more interested in content than form. Most importantly, we all supported each other's craft. Phone calls went returned, e-mails were responded to. When someone had a show or event we all attended. When a friend succeeded we felt like we succeeded. It also helped that our tastes in literature, art and music were similar. We "got" each other. Here? Not so much.
Friends. Real friends. Not acquaintances. Not cliques. Not smile in your face while stabbing you in the back, bless her heart, friends. I know I was not born here. I know I am and will forever be an "outsider" but doesn't it get boring just associating with like minded individuals? I don't want to work so hard in making and keeping friends. I am thankful I do have a handful of true friends here, but can only count them on half of one hand. Maybe that's enough. Funny thing is that most of them weren't born and raised locally. When I do make a friend with someone they usually leave to follow a job. Roanoke is very transient. The only ones that stick around are the ones that were born here. I've tried for years but it's time I realized it's just too hard to break through that local wall so it's time I give up. I'm too old now and just don't have the luxury of time. For my part I am going to become more patient with people, not change who I am, and just lower my expectations so I won't be so disappointed in people so many times.
Passenger Rail Service. I think I would like living in Roanoke more if I was able to escape Roanoke more. I imagine taking weekend trips with my daughter to DC and NYC via riding the rail. It would be so liberating to be able to hop on a train on a spur of the moment whim. I don't want to drive to Lynchburg for years to come. Not just for my selfish desires, but Roanoke really needs passenger rail service. We have to make it easier and cost efficient for businesses, performers, tourists and students to be able to get to and from Roanoke. It's absurd that Roanoke doesn't have passenger service...She was built on the rails! Better accessibility = growth.
Here's hoping 2011 reflects a Year of Growth, for all of us...
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
My Christmas Miss List
Christmas has taken on a different feel since my kids are now teens and not really little children anymore. Now my son tells me he doesn't want anything in particular, but a card with cash would be fine. My daughter points out pocketbooks and clothes while we're shopping in Valley View and I tell her to turn around so I could buy them because there's no way I'm going back there again.
I still love everything about Christmas, but as the family gets older I find myself thinking back to a "simpler," yet more frantic bustling holiday mostly geared towards to the kids. I miss it, so in no particular order I've decided to come up with my Christmas Miss List...
1. Hearing the countdown of days as the kids open up their Advent calendars while eating their breakfast.
2. Getting handed the Toys 'R Us ad booklet with red circled toys indicating what my daughter requests and the black circled toys what my son wanted.
3. Waiting for the big sale day at Toys 'R Us and standing on that looooong line with a shopping cart brimming over.
4. Buying toys/books/movies that I like, hoping the kids will like them as well.
5. Working the elementary school holiday shoppe.
6. Putting together the holiday party as the class mom.
7. Seeing my kids on stage performing at the PTA meeting.
8. Trying to talk the kids into sitting on Santa's lap.
9. Riding the toy train at Valley View Mall.
10. Going to Santa Land downtown.
11. Driving through the live nativity and watching the awe on their faces as they pass the suspended angel.
12. Driving, singing along with the Christmas songs on the radio while looking for the best Christmas lights in the Valley.
13. Reading the letters they've received over the years from Santa and his elves aloud without them rolling their eyes.
14. Making stained glass, or sewing together, or baking some sort of home-made Christmas ornament.
15. A train making the rounds round the Christmas tree.
16. Being begged to read "The Polar Express" and "The Night Before Christmas" on the night before Christmas and then watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas" and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" the cartoon, not movie.
17. Putting footsie pajamas on the kids on Christmas Eve.
18. Leaving cookies out for Santa and Cheerios for the reindeer.
19. Listening to my daughter scold Grandpa for eating Santa's cookies!
20. Waiting for the kids to keep coming out of their rooms on Christmas Eve saying they heard bells on the rooftop.
21. Telling the kids Santa won't come if they don't stay in bed!
22. Watching my husband pull out his hair as he puts together one of the humongous "easy to assemble" toys the kids wanted.
23. Lugging all the presents to the tree and stuffing the stockings, including a piece of black coal.
24. Crushing the Cheerios, putting powder on the floor and making reindeer hoof prints in it.
25. Being awoken at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning by two excited children --saying, "Santa came! Santa came! And the reindeer made a mess!"
26. Watching the kids struggle with the ribbons, finally tearing open the paper to the presents.
27. A huge hug and many kisses, "Thank you Mommy, thank you Daddy, thank you Santa, thank you Grandpa and Grandma, it's just what I wanted!"
Maybe Christmas is not "the same" but I'm blessed to have those memories and still be able to make new ones with the ones I love. Dr. Seuss says it best...
"Christmas Day is in our grasp
so long as we have hands to clasp.
Christmas Day will always be,
just so long as we have we.
Welcome Christmas, while we stand.
Heart to heart and hand in hand."
I still love everything about Christmas, but as the family gets older I find myself thinking back to a "simpler," yet more frantic bustling holiday mostly geared towards to the kids. I miss it, so in no particular order I've decided to come up with my Christmas Miss List...
1. Hearing the countdown of days as the kids open up their Advent calendars while eating their breakfast.
2. Getting handed the Toys 'R Us ad booklet with red circled toys indicating what my daughter requests and the black circled toys what my son wanted.
3. Waiting for the big sale day at Toys 'R Us and standing on that looooong line with a shopping cart brimming over.
4. Buying toys/books/movies that I like, hoping the kids will like them as well.
5. Working the elementary school holiday shoppe.
6. Putting together the holiday party as the class mom.
7. Seeing my kids on stage performing at the PTA meeting.
8. Trying to talk the kids into sitting on Santa's lap.
9. Riding the toy train at Valley View Mall.
10. Going to Santa Land downtown.
11. Driving through the live nativity and watching the awe on their faces as they pass the suspended angel.
12. Driving, singing along with the Christmas songs on the radio while looking for the best Christmas lights in the Valley.
13. Reading the letters they've received over the years from Santa and his elves aloud without them rolling their eyes.
14. Making stained glass, or sewing together, or baking some sort of home-made Christmas ornament.
15. A train making the rounds round the Christmas tree.
16. Being begged to read "The Polar Express" and "The Night Before Christmas" on the night before Christmas and then watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas" and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" the cartoon, not movie.
17. Putting footsie pajamas on the kids on Christmas Eve.
18. Leaving cookies out for Santa and Cheerios for the reindeer.
19. Listening to my daughter scold Grandpa for eating Santa's cookies!
20. Waiting for the kids to keep coming out of their rooms on Christmas Eve saying they heard bells on the rooftop.
21. Telling the kids Santa won't come if they don't stay in bed!
22. Watching my husband pull out his hair as he puts together one of the humongous "easy to assemble" toys the kids wanted.
23. Lugging all the presents to the tree and stuffing the stockings, including a piece of black coal.
24. Crushing the Cheerios, putting powder on the floor and making reindeer hoof prints in it.
25. Being awoken at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning by two excited children --saying, "Santa came! Santa came! And the reindeer made a mess!"
26. Watching the kids struggle with the ribbons, finally tearing open the paper to the presents.
27. A huge hug and many kisses, "Thank you Mommy, thank you Daddy, thank you Santa, thank you Grandpa and Grandma, it's just what I wanted!"
Maybe Christmas is not "the same" but I'm blessed to have those memories and still be able to make new ones with the ones I love. Dr. Seuss says it best...
"Christmas Day is in our grasp
so long as we have hands to clasp.
Christmas Day will always be,
just so long as we have we.
Welcome Christmas, while we stand.
Heart to heart and hand in hand."
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Living With a Thankful Heart
As usually happens every year around this time life gets extremely busy...it's a good busy though. Well, it would be a better busy if there weren't so many darn doctor appointments filling the upcoming days. With my absurdly high deductible I gotta get 'em in before the end of the year.
I saw my rheumotologist today. I really like him. He is so personable. As soon as he saw me he said, "I was just thinking about you last night." He wasn't thinking about my health he was thinking about our last conversation regarding his teen aged daughter starting to learn how to drive. "I signed her up at the driving school, she really likes it. After the holidays I'll probably start looking at cars for her so I will call you so you can check it out for me. How's your daughter doing with the Saturn?" Wow, he remembered our conversation from over two months ago. I was impressed. Quite a difference from Dr. DoNothing who doesn't even remember me the next day!
Anyway, Dr. DoNothing's office never sent over the blood results as they were supposed to. I knew they would be incompetent so I went in person yesterday and walked out with them in hand. Naturally they assured me they would fax them right over to my rheumy and naturally I knew they wouldn't so took matters into my own hands. I will never use their lab again.
When I saw my numbers I was quite pleased. My cholesterol numbers have nothing to do with my rheumy but they were on the same sheet. I was supposed to see Dr. DoNothing yesterday before the rheumy but he had cancelled last week -- do I get a no-show fee? My triglycerides dropped from 575 to 155. My cholesterol level dropped from 249 to 183, and my good cholesterol level increased from 35 to 37. This happened over an eight week period. I've been on one cholesterol pill and the no/low sugar diet. I thought I was doing great weight-wise until I stepped on the scale at the rheumy's office. It wasn't as great as my scale showed -- I felt like I went to the butcher who keeps his thumb on the scale.
The real numbers my rheumy wanted to see were from the complete blood count and liver profile. Everything was normal. In fact I increased my red blood count so that I'm no longer anemic. I attribute it to the Vitamin B-12 and Vitamin B Complex with C regimen I added. I needed something to give me energy and those pills along with the folic acid seems to be a good mix.
Unfortunately the RA has not decreased and when the doctor poked and prodded me I jumped a wee bit. He amped up the MTX to 15mg from 10mg. I told him how I felt wiped out on the day and day after I took them. He said that was to be expected and I could double the folic acid on those days if needed. I could handle it, I just wanted to make sure it was "normal." Same with the pain -- I can handle it as long as it's "normal." He said I could take Tylenol and thought my wine cheat nights on Thursday and Friday were well thought out. As long as the liver keeps functioning I can keep it up.
I don't have to go back until twelve weeks and hope my next dosage doesn't do me in too much. Because of the RA I've adjusted my writing schedule so that as soon as I finish breakfast I jump right on the computer. I strive to get as much done as possible before my bones hurt too much or I become too weak. Once I have lunch I'm done with writing. So the blog has been and will continue to be taking a back seat for a while. The goal is to have revision # 3 of my book completed before Christmas. Then I can put it aside and enjoy the holidays and start the new year with a final fresh look. I'm so thrilled to be so near the finish line. With all the recent progress I've made I really think RA has been a blessing. I am living with a thankful heart...
Have a happy Thanksgiving and I'll see ya when I see ya...
I saw my rheumotologist today. I really like him. He is so personable. As soon as he saw me he said, "I was just thinking about you last night." He wasn't thinking about my health he was thinking about our last conversation regarding his teen aged daughter starting to learn how to drive. "I signed her up at the driving school, she really likes it. After the holidays I'll probably start looking at cars for her so I will call you so you can check it out for me. How's your daughter doing with the Saturn?" Wow, he remembered our conversation from over two months ago. I was impressed. Quite a difference from Dr. DoNothing who doesn't even remember me the next day!
Anyway, Dr. DoNothing's office never sent over the blood results as they were supposed to. I knew they would be incompetent so I went in person yesterday and walked out with them in hand. Naturally they assured me they would fax them right over to my rheumy and naturally I knew they wouldn't so took matters into my own hands. I will never use their lab again.
When I saw my numbers I was quite pleased. My cholesterol numbers have nothing to do with my rheumy but they were on the same sheet. I was supposed to see Dr. DoNothing yesterday before the rheumy but he had cancelled last week -- do I get a no-show fee? My triglycerides dropped from 575 to 155. My cholesterol level dropped from 249 to 183, and my good cholesterol level increased from 35 to 37. This happened over an eight week period. I've been on one cholesterol pill and the no/low sugar diet. I thought I was doing great weight-wise until I stepped on the scale at the rheumy's office. It wasn't as great as my scale showed -- I felt like I went to the butcher who keeps his thumb on the scale.
The real numbers my rheumy wanted to see were from the complete blood count and liver profile. Everything was normal. In fact I increased my red blood count so that I'm no longer anemic. I attribute it to the Vitamin B-12 and Vitamin B Complex with C regimen I added. I needed something to give me energy and those pills along with the folic acid seems to be a good mix.
Unfortunately the RA has not decreased and when the doctor poked and prodded me I jumped a wee bit. He amped up the MTX to 15mg from 10mg. I told him how I felt wiped out on the day and day after I took them. He said that was to be expected and I could double the folic acid on those days if needed. I could handle it, I just wanted to make sure it was "normal." Same with the pain -- I can handle it as long as it's "normal." He said I could take Tylenol and thought my wine cheat nights on Thursday and Friday were well thought out. As long as the liver keeps functioning I can keep it up.
I don't have to go back until twelve weeks and hope my next dosage doesn't do me in too much. Because of the RA I've adjusted my writing schedule so that as soon as I finish breakfast I jump right on the computer. I strive to get as much done as possible before my bones hurt too much or I become too weak. Once I have lunch I'm done with writing. So the blog has been and will continue to be taking a back seat for a while. The goal is to have revision # 3 of my book completed before Christmas. Then I can put it aside and enjoy the holidays and start the new year with a final fresh look. I'm so thrilled to be so near the finish line. With all the recent progress I've made I really think RA has been a blessing. I am living with a thankful heart...
Have a happy Thanksgiving and I'll see ya when I see ya...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Walking Is My Therapy
There is nothing as refreshing as a crisp apple freshly picked so close to home. I'm fortunate that I live in a beautiful part of Roanoke County very close to Jamisons' Orchards. The mile walk to the farm is always pleasant even if I sometimes have to dodge vehicles.
At the end of my trek I treat myself to freshly picked apples, home-made cashew butter, sugar-free strawberry preserves, tomatoes, sweet potatoes and dried apricots, most locally grown.
Walking back home with the heavy bag on my shoulder I hug the babbling creek and I lose myself in the serenity.
I find the best solutions to problems come when I'm strolling in peace, my mind as clear as the sky. Even though I'm not sitting at the keyboard suddenly a word or phrase comes into my mind that would fit better than a word or phrase I had used in my book. Even when I'm not writing my subconscious mind is. Walking is my therapy.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Reflections Along the Greenway
Sunday was a beautiful day for a stroll along the Roanoke River in Salem. After today's pleasant forecast I don't imagine there'll be too many more warm days left. The only flowers left blooming were these, which I think are weeds...
I noticed the tree leaf colors aren't as spectacular as they have been in the past but they're still bright enough to get some interesting reflections-in-the-water shots...
Although I wish the weather would remain as glorious as it's been, according to the locals this little fellow's color and thick woolly body mean we're in for a cold winter. I hope it doesn't come too soon...
I noticed the tree leaf colors aren't as spectacular as they have been in the past but they're still bright enough to get some interesting reflections-in-the-water shots...
Although I wish the weather would remain as glorious as it's been, according to the locals this little fellow's color and thick woolly body mean we're in for a cold winter. I hope it doesn't come too soon...
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
"I Think He Was An Angel..."
My daughter has been working with two other classmates for the last month writing, acting in, and finally editing together a 12 minute piece for her mass communications class. It's been fraught with disaster after disaster -- too many to name. Undeterred, the girl has pushed on giving it her best. Over the weekend she completed her section. It is really funny -- she makes a great Harry Potter, - "My life sucks..." is the running theme of the piece. The girl is amazing on the I-Mac. It has a great editing program. The special effects astounds me, along with the talent the girl uses in applying them. She has convinced me upon graduation she must have an I-Mac for her field, and I'm hoping if I get her one she shows me how to edit on it.
Anyway, as usually happens when a group has to work together there's always one that leads and one that slacks. The grade given knows not who is who so if one pulls the team down the rest of them suffer. After all the hard work the girl has put into the piece there was no way she was going to let that happen. Although it was due yesterday, one of the group did not come in to school. Her piece was incomplete and she didn't care. My daughter did. Rather than have just a "crappy boring" middle piece sandwiched between the two effect-laden exciting ones my daughter took matters into her own hands. With the approval of her teacher she decided she would take the I-Mac home and complete the other girl's piece.
Unlike her mother, my daughter has always been a team player. It didn't matter that she was not well herself, or that she wouldn't be able to attend an extra-credit movie after school that she really needed in AP History, or that she would be up way past midnight making things right. To her the worst part was lugging the I-Mac home. It's a full-sized computer with a 27" monitor. It is heavy. Her backpack is heavy. Last time we weighed it, it was 38 pounds. You've seen pics of the girl. She is petite and oh, yeah, she's got that little medical bone condition as well.
The bell rang yesterday and the class disappeared leaving her alone to carry her backpack, her laptop, and the boxed I-Mac. She struggled up the stairs and sighed as she rested before heading to the far end of the parking lot. To her right she heard a male voice asking her if he could be of help. She turned and saw a young man standing next to her. "Oh my God, yes!" He lifted the box and followed her to her car never uttering a word. She opened her trunk and he gently placed it inside. My daughter was babbling on how much she appreciated his help as she laid her backpack beside the computer. She looked up as she closed the trunk to ask the young man what his name was, but she never got the chance. He was gone. "Mom, I mean gone! Like disappeared! There was nowhere he could have gone. I was parked at the far end of the lot. There's no way he could have gotten back in the school in the one second it took to put my backpack in the trunk. I know everyone at Burton and I've never seen him before. It was really weird. I think he was an angel..."
Anyway, as usually happens when a group has to work together there's always one that leads and one that slacks. The grade given knows not who is who so if one pulls the team down the rest of them suffer. After all the hard work the girl has put into the piece there was no way she was going to let that happen. Although it was due yesterday, one of the group did not come in to school. Her piece was incomplete and she didn't care. My daughter did. Rather than have just a "crappy boring" middle piece sandwiched between the two effect-laden exciting ones my daughter took matters into her own hands. With the approval of her teacher she decided she would take the I-Mac home and complete the other girl's piece.
Unlike her mother, my daughter has always been a team player. It didn't matter that she was not well herself, or that she wouldn't be able to attend an extra-credit movie after school that she really needed in AP History, or that she would be up way past midnight making things right. To her the worst part was lugging the I-Mac home. It's a full-sized computer with a 27" monitor. It is heavy. Her backpack is heavy. Last time we weighed it, it was 38 pounds. You've seen pics of the girl. She is petite and oh, yeah, she's got that little medical bone condition as well.
The bell rang yesterday and the class disappeared leaving her alone to carry her backpack, her laptop, and the boxed I-Mac. She struggled up the stairs and sighed as she rested before heading to the far end of the parking lot. To her right she heard a male voice asking her if he could be of help. She turned and saw a young man standing next to her. "Oh my God, yes!" He lifted the box and followed her to her car never uttering a word. She opened her trunk and he gently placed it inside. My daughter was babbling on how much she appreciated his help as she laid her backpack beside the computer. She looked up as she closed the trunk to ask the young man what his name was, but she never got the chance. He was gone. "Mom, I mean gone! Like disappeared! There was nowhere he could have gone. I was parked at the far end of the lot. There's no way he could have gotten back in the school in the one second it took to put my backpack in the trunk. I know everyone at Burton and I've never seen him before. It was really weird. I think he was an angel..."
Monday, September 27, 2010
The Whole College "Experience"
My wallet wasn't the only thing jumping up and down for joy when my son said he preferred to stay in Roanoke, go to a local college full time and work part time. I was thrilled he made that decision, which I know in large part was due to what the dorms looked like on campus, particularly at Virginia Tech. The two person cinder-blocked cell had no private bathroom and no sink either, and might have been the same size, or even smaller than, the boy's bedroom. At home he did have a semi-private bathroom and sink only feet away, along with a desk top computer, flat screen television and most importantly, an X-Box.
Staying in Roanoke he also wouldn't have to eat at the school cafeteria -- mom's home-cooking is just down the hall. Even though he spends a good number of days and nights eating out with his friends, now that he has cash to burn from working, it's still a plus to be able to come home to leftovers after a long night's work. Cooking Ramen on a hot plate daily while at school would get old real quick.
He tried to justify his decision, as if he even had to, by saying the first two years of classes would mostly entail taking pre-requisite courses before he even got into the nitty-gritty stuff. "Why should we (I think he meant to say you) have to spend around $20,000 a year when I could transfer to Tech with an AS degree at a fraction of the price?" I couldn't agree more.
Last week out of the blue he reiterated how happy he was with his choice. Looking for a parking spot to get to class on time seems to be his biggest complaint. This proclamation came after he said he was speaking with a friend, who is going for the same degree as he is, who went directly to JMU. His friend is miserable -- not with the classes or people or the school itself -- but with the housing. He lives on campus in a dorm. It's not that the room is too small, or he doesn't like his roommate. His problem is with the inability to enjoy his down time as he did before he arrived at college - playing on-line games and/or X-Box Live.
The school does not allow enough bandwidth for the students to play World of Warcraft or X-Box Live. I'd bet that wasn't even one of the amenities he, and especially his parents, considered when looking at colleges. When you hear the rooms have internet access you would assume this meant full access. Anyway, his friend is a gamer, as are most of the recent graduates my son knows. His friend is distressed. His friend finishes with his classes and homework early enough so that he has many, many hours to kill. Normally he would be killing his hours the same as my son does when he's not in school or working, on-line and on X-Box Live, saving the fake world and chatting with friends across the real world. His friend has been unable to join in and begs his parents to let him come home for the weekends. They won't allow it. He wants to get an apartment, but that's out of the question too. So now his friend is bored out of his mind and we all know that boredom is a recipe for disaster. My son's friend has a good head on his shoulders so I'm hopeful he'll be smart enough to stay away from any temptations. In fact, he told my son he's been out looking for a part-time job. But not all 18 & 19 year olds think like that.
What's a kid to do with so much time on their hands if they're caught up on their school work and not working? Probably get into trouble. Maybe not intentionally, but it will only be a matter of time before a bored kid will start experimenting with drugs and drinking. Eventually he or she will go to one of the many off campus parties college students have. We can all assume what goes on there. I doubt it's changed much from thirty years ago when I attended fraternity parties. Heck, just walk past any of the rental houses along College Avenue on a Monday morning and see the Roanoke College student remnants from the weekend, and you'll get an idea.
With a heavy heart I read yesterday that a 19-year-old Virginia Tech student fell from a balcony to his death on Saturday night. The police are investigating the incident but I will bet you there was a party going on. I'm not saying the boy was drinking or drugging but it's certainly a possibility. One foolish decision and in a blink of an eye a life is over.
19 years old. He was only a couple of months older than my son, and the same age as my son's friend. My heart aches for his family who probably only wanted their son to go to a good university and be part of the whole college "experience." That could have been my son falling to his death, maybe after drinking only a couple of beers. My son thinks he's "worldly" but I assure you he's not. He's book smart, logical, pretty responsible when he's not lazy, but I believe he's also naive when it comes to "the streets." I'm the first to admit I probably sheltered him a little too much. I never gave him a beer. I never said "I prefer you drink at home with me." I have no idea how he would handle alcohol. Would he get drunk after one beer? Would he succumb to peer pressure and suck on that joint? Would he stumble and fall over a balcony? I don't know. All I do know is that he wasn't ready to live away from home on campus and his Saturday nights are usually spent at a restaurant, in a movie theatre, or at work. I thank God he nixed the whole college "experience."
Peace and comfort to the family of the Virgia Tech student who fell to his death...I can't imagine the pain they must be feeling.
Staying in Roanoke he also wouldn't have to eat at the school cafeteria -- mom's home-cooking is just down the hall. Even though he spends a good number of days and nights eating out with his friends, now that he has cash to burn from working, it's still a plus to be able to come home to leftovers after a long night's work. Cooking Ramen on a hot plate daily while at school would get old real quick.
He tried to justify his decision, as if he even had to, by saying the first two years of classes would mostly entail taking pre-requisite courses before he even got into the nitty-gritty stuff. "Why should we (I think he meant to say you) have to spend around $20,000 a year when I could transfer to Tech with an AS degree at a fraction of the price?" I couldn't agree more.
Last week out of the blue he reiterated how happy he was with his choice. Looking for a parking spot to get to class on time seems to be his biggest complaint. This proclamation came after he said he was speaking with a friend, who is going for the same degree as he is, who went directly to JMU. His friend is miserable -- not with the classes or people or the school itself -- but with the housing. He lives on campus in a dorm. It's not that the room is too small, or he doesn't like his roommate. His problem is with the inability to enjoy his down time as he did before he arrived at college - playing on-line games and/or X-Box Live.
The school does not allow enough bandwidth for the students to play World of Warcraft or X-Box Live. I'd bet that wasn't even one of the amenities he, and especially his parents, considered when looking at colleges. When you hear the rooms have internet access you would assume this meant full access. Anyway, his friend is a gamer, as are most of the recent graduates my son knows. His friend is distressed. His friend finishes with his classes and homework early enough so that he has many, many hours to kill. Normally he would be killing his hours the same as my son does when he's not in school or working, on-line and on X-Box Live, saving the fake world and chatting with friends across the real world. His friend has been unable to join in and begs his parents to let him come home for the weekends. They won't allow it. He wants to get an apartment, but that's out of the question too. So now his friend is bored out of his mind and we all know that boredom is a recipe for disaster. My son's friend has a good head on his shoulders so I'm hopeful he'll be smart enough to stay away from any temptations. In fact, he told my son he's been out looking for a part-time job. But not all 18 & 19 year olds think like that.
What's a kid to do with so much time on their hands if they're caught up on their school work and not working? Probably get into trouble. Maybe not intentionally, but it will only be a matter of time before a bored kid will start experimenting with drugs and drinking. Eventually he or she will go to one of the many off campus parties college students have. We can all assume what goes on there. I doubt it's changed much from thirty years ago when I attended fraternity parties. Heck, just walk past any of the rental houses along College Avenue on a Monday morning and see the Roanoke College student remnants from the weekend, and you'll get an idea.
With a heavy heart I read yesterday that a 19-year-old Virginia Tech student fell from a balcony to his death on Saturday night. The police are investigating the incident but I will bet you there was a party going on. I'm not saying the boy was drinking or drugging but it's certainly a possibility. One foolish decision and in a blink of an eye a life is over.
19 years old. He was only a couple of months older than my son, and the same age as my son's friend. My heart aches for his family who probably only wanted their son to go to a good university and be part of the whole college "experience." That could have been my son falling to his death, maybe after drinking only a couple of beers. My son thinks he's "worldly" but I assure you he's not. He's book smart, logical, pretty responsible when he's not lazy, but I believe he's also naive when it comes to "the streets." I'm the first to admit I probably sheltered him a little too much. I never gave him a beer. I never said "I prefer you drink at home with me." I have no idea how he would handle alcohol. Would he get drunk after one beer? Would he succumb to peer pressure and suck on that joint? Would he stumble and fall over a balcony? I don't know. All I do know is that he wasn't ready to live away from home on campus and his Saturday nights are usually spent at a restaurant, in a movie theatre, or at work. I thank God he nixed the whole college "experience."
Peace and comfort to the family of the Virgia Tech student who fell to his death...I can't imagine the pain they must be feeling.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Blogging Can Be Rewarding
One of the most rewarding aspects about blogging is not only making friends with fellow bloggers such as Anita but interacting with readers who I've never met.
In a recent post I lamented the saddest part of summer ending -- the end of my homegrown fruits. In it I included a picture of my pear tree which had hundreds of pears that to us were inedible since they never seem to ripen. A blog reader, Sandra, whom I've never met in person said she would be happy to take some of those pears off my hands. I was happy to send a bagful over to the shop so she could stop by and pick them up. I was even happier to learn that Sandra was kind enough to leave three jars of homemade preserves -- peach, plum and hot pepper -- in our mailbox.
She certainly didn't have to do that and I am very thankful she did. I've never had plum or hot pepper preserves before and can't wait to try them. Since I'm on this diet I figure I'll make it my Sunday morning treat. Thank you Sandra!
Another benefit of blogging to me is the opportunity to get things off of my chest. I would hope readers realize that I'm not really angry when I air my complaints. That's just the way I talk. I imagine that some of my sarcasm might get lost in print and people who don't personally know me might not "get me." Sometimes I get discouraged and feel like I'm just writing in a journal that sits in the bottom of my drawer and wonder why I'm wasting my time blogging. I see other blogs that have "hundreds" and even "thousands" of followers while I have a pitiful 19 listed, although I do have more than that from Facebook and other places that just haven't signed up to be a "follower." Still, they're nowhere in the hundreds. I might get there if I gave away gifts, or just focused on writing tips, or ended each post with a question for my readers to answer, but that's not me.
I've been discouraged lately after reading literary agents' blogs, expecially one that cautioned that an agent might not want to represent an author, not based on their talent or book idea, but just based on the agent's perception of the person -- either through their political leanings if different than theirs, what they "discover" about them on the internet, or their blog -- especially if it's "rants." Hmmmm, as you can see from the title of my blog, that might be a problem. I would hope any perspective agent, or anyone, would not make such sweeping judgements before delving a little deeper into someone, by giving them the opportunity to "clarify" if there is a "concern," but who knows. I've been thinking about giving up blogging, and then this morning I opened my mailbox and found this message that was sent to me on Facebook:
"I forgot to mention that I am very happy that you are setting goals and meeting them. Congrats on weight loss, progress with your novel, ect. ect... I dont think you realize that you influence alot of people by being a voice. Your blogs have many qualities. One quality is that they inspire others. It's a gift. Hearing how you tackle daily life with a sense of humor / honesty inspires others to do the same. Keep up the good work. JEFF"
Thank you Jeff for the kind words. I appreciate them more than you know. I realize I can't appeal to everyone, but it's certainly encouraging to know that some people can find "inspiration" here...
In a recent post I lamented the saddest part of summer ending -- the end of my homegrown fruits. In it I included a picture of my pear tree which had hundreds of pears that to us were inedible since they never seem to ripen. A blog reader, Sandra, whom I've never met in person said she would be happy to take some of those pears off my hands. I was happy to send a bagful over to the shop so she could stop by and pick them up. I was even happier to learn that Sandra was kind enough to leave three jars of homemade preserves -- peach, plum and hot pepper -- in our mailbox.
She certainly didn't have to do that and I am very thankful she did. I've never had plum or hot pepper preserves before and can't wait to try them. Since I'm on this diet I figure I'll make it my Sunday morning treat. Thank you Sandra!
Another benefit of blogging to me is the opportunity to get things off of my chest. I would hope readers realize that I'm not really angry when I air my complaints. That's just the way I talk. I imagine that some of my sarcasm might get lost in print and people who don't personally know me might not "get me." Sometimes I get discouraged and feel like I'm just writing in a journal that sits in the bottom of my drawer and wonder why I'm wasting my time blogging. I see other blogs that have "hundreds" and even "thousands" of followers while I have a pitiful 19 listed, although I do have more than that from Facebook and other places that just haven't signed up to be a "follower." Still, they're nowhere in the hundreds. I might get there if I gave away gifts, or just focused on writing tips, or ended each post with a question for my readers to answer, but that's not me.
I've been discouraged lately after reading literary agents' blogs, expecially one that cautioned that an agent might not want to represent an author, not based on their talent or book idea, but just based on the agent's perception of the person -- either through their political leanings if different than theirs, what they "discover" about them on the internet, or their blog -- especially if it's "rants." Hmmmm, as you can see from the title of my blog, that might be a problem. I would hope any perspective agent, or anyone, would not make such sweeping judgements before delving a little deeper into someone, by giving them the opportunity to "clarify" if there is a "concern," but who knows. I've been thinking about giving up blogging, and then this morning I opened my mailbox and found this message that was sent to me on Facebook:
"I forgot to mention that I am very happy that you are setting goals and meeting them. Congrats on weight loss, progress with your novel, ect. ect... I dont think you realize that you influence alot of people by being a voice. Your blogs have many qualities. One quality is that they inspire others. It's a gift. Hearing how you tackle daily life with a sense of humor / honesty inspires others to do the same. Keep up the good work. JEFF"
Thank you Jeff for the kind words. I appreciate them more than you know. I realize I can't appeal to everyone, but it's certainly encouraging to know that some people can find "inspiration" here...
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Amazon Gets Me
Based on recent purchases, which I'm sure had nothing to do with the "Linear
Algebra" book and probably more to do with the "Abbott & Costello" collection, Amazon recommends the following for me: "The Honeymooners", "The Three Stooges" and "Tales from the Darkside." Makes you wonder what type of girl I am, huh? Not a girly girly that's fer sure. The funny thing is, unlike what Google thinks I like, Amazon happens to be right.
I worked on "Tales from the Darkside" when the series first came out in 1983. I produced all the on-air promotion spots, and at the end of each show there's an LBS Syndication logo which I animated. It sucks now, but for the time period, and lack of budget, it was cool then.
Who doesn't like the Three Stooges, besides possibly every woman alive? When my first husband went to St. Frances in Brooklyn there were movie nights which we used to attend after getting buzzed. The Three Stooges were popular amongst the fraternity crowd and very funny after drinking bash. When I channel surf and stop to watch their show fond memories return of a time when our biggest problem was how we were going to come up with a buck to get a couple of gallons of gas.
Now "The Honeymooners" is to Brooklynites what "The Andy Griffith Show" is to Roanokers. The show took place where I was born in Bensonhurst, so you could say I was born and bred on Ralph, Alice, Norton and Trixie, so naturally could quote lines from every show. In fact, I think I often insert Honeymooner lines into my everyday conversations and just now realized that maybe a lot of folks down here in the south don't know what the hell I mean and that's why I sometimes get a blank stare.
The two most famous, or most frequently used lines were said by Ralph -- "To the moon, Alice, to the moon!" and "One of these days Alice, one of these day, Pow! right in the kisser!" Even though Ralph "threatened" Alice, he never pulled through, he wasn't a wife beater and his bark was much worse than his bite. Alice didn't take Ralph seriously and neither did the audience. In fact, he was crazy about Alice, "Baby you're the greatest!" Alice usually shut him down with a look, one snide comment and the knowledge that she was always right. My favorite on the show was Ed Norton, the sewer worker. He was the perfect sidekick to Ralph, his delivery was impeccable, and man, could he move.
Remember the Hucklebuck episode when Norton tried to teach Ralph to dance? If you're from Brooklyn you do...
When I was a little kid in New York to me there were city comedies and country comedies. The one thing both had in common were opening theme songs that I couldn't get out of my head whether I watched the shows or not. I knew Andy Griffith began with a whistle but don't remember watching the show much. I watched "Leave it to Beaver" and "Father Knows Best", two country comedies to me, but not enough that I could quote any lines. As I got older I watched "Green Acres", but didn't care for it as I couldn't stand any of the characters, even Zsa Zsa, who I liked even less than that dopey pig and the opening theme song. Then there was "Petticoat Junction", which I hated, but think I remember the name Bobby Jo or Bobby Sue or Bobby Sox. I couldn't get past the opening which made me wonder if all southerners took baths in water towers. I could barely tolerate "Gomer Pyle" (too annoyingly stupid) the only saving grace was his gruff Sargent. But for some odd reason I did like "The Beverly Hillbillies." I probably had a crush on Jethro, and it just cracked me up whenever they said "seement pond." It was a good premise for a television show. One of my favorite Southern personality's on television was introduced to me during an episode of "I Love Lucy" -- Tennessee Ernie Ford. I felt sooooo bad for him, really liked his singing and picking, and his looks reminded me of my father, but believe me that's where the similarity ended.
I think it's safe to say that our early childhood television viewing habits probably shape our personalities. I've only touched on a couple of early sitcoms but I'm sure if I looked back I could think of other shows that had an effect on me...Emma Peel and Catwoman are maybe two reasons why I've always loved wearing black. Hmmmmm, I wonder if I had watched Aunt Bea more instead of Alice Kramden, if I would better understand the genteel folks of Southwest Virginia? Who knows -- maybe if I had, I would even like Paula Deen.
Look closely at the bottle, it's for Butt Massage...what the heck is that???? I don't know about Paula but when I get a butt massage I prefer oils.
And I thought Chef of the Future was funny...
Algebra" book and probably more to do with the "Abbott & Costello" collection, Amazon recommends the following for me: "The Honeymooners", "The Three Stooges" and "Tales from the Darkside." Makes you wonder what type of girl I am, huh? Not a girly girly that's fer sure. The funny thing is, unlike what Google thinks I like, Amazon happens to be right.
I worked on "Tales from the Darkside" when the series first came out in 1983. I produced all the on-air promotion spots, and at the end of each show there's an LBS Syndication logo which I animated. It sucks now, but for the time period, and lack of budget, it was cool then.
Who doesn't like the Three Stooges, besides possibly every woman alive? When my first husband went to St. Frances in Brooklyn there were movie nights which we used to attend after getting buzzed. The Three Stooges were popular amongst the fraternity crowd and very funny after drinking bash. When I channel surf and stop to watch their show fond memories return of a time when our biggest problem was how we were going to come up with a buck to get a couple of gallons of gas.
Now "The Honeymooners" is to Brooklynites what "The Andy Griffith Show" is to Roanokers. The show took place where I was born in Bensonhurst, so you could say I was born and bred on Ralph, Alice, Norton and Trixie, so naturally could quote lines from every show. In fact, I think I often insert Honeymooner lines into my everyday conversations and just now realized that maybe a lot of folks down here in the south don't know what the hell I mean and that's why I sometimes get a blank stare.
The two most famous, or most frequently used lines were said by Ralph -- "To the moon, Alice, to the moon!" and "One of these days Alice, one of these day, Pow! right in the kisser!" Even though Ralph "threatened" Alice, he never pulled through, he wasn't a wife beater and his bark was much worse than his bite. Alice didn't take Ralph seriously and neither did the audience. In fact, he was crazy about Alice, "Baby you're the greatest!" Alice usually shut him down with a look, one snide comment and the knowledge that she was always right. My favorite on the show was Ed Norton, the sewer worker. He was the perfect sidekick to Ralph, his delivery was impeccable, and man, could he move.
Remember the Hucklebuck episode when Norton tried to teach Ralph to dance? If you're from Brooklyn you do...
When I was a little kid in New York to me there were city comedies and country comedies. The one thing both had in common were opening theme songs that I couldn't get out of my head whether I watched the shows or not. I knew Andy Griffith began with a whistle but don't remember watching the show much. I watched "Leave it to Beaver" and "Father Knows Best", two country comedies to me, but not enough that I could quote any lines. As I got older I watched "Green Acres", but didn't care for it as I couldn't stand any of the characters, even Zsa Zsa, who I liked even less than that dopey pig and the opening theme song. Then there was "Petticoat Junction", which I hated, but think I remember the name Bobby Jo or Bobby Sue or Bobby Sox. I couldn't get past the opening which made me wonder if all southerners took baths in water towers. I could barely tolerate "Gomer Pyle" (too annoyingly stupid) the only saving grace was his gruff Sargent. But for some odd reason I did like "The Beverly Hillbillies." I probably had a crush on Jethro, and it just cracked me up whenever they said "seement pond." It was a good premise for a television show. One of my favorite Southern personality's on television was introduced to me during an episode of "I Love Lucy" -- Tennessee Ernie Ford. I felt sooooo bad for him, really liked his singing and picking, and his looks reminded me of my father, but believe me that's where the similarity ended.
I think it's safe to say that our early childhood television viewing habits probably shape our personalities. I've only touched on a couple of early sitcoms but I'm sure if I looked back I could think of other shows that had an effect on me...Emma Peel and Catwoman are maybe two reasons why I've always loved wearing black. Hmmmmm, I wonder if I had watched Aunt Bea more instead of Alice Kramden, if I would better understand the genteel folks of Southwest Virginia? Who knows -- maybe if I had, I would even like Paula Deen.
Look closely at the bottle, it's for Butt Massage...what the heck is that???? I don't know about Paula but when I get a butt massage I prefer oils.
And I thought Chef of the Future was funny...
Monday, August 23, 2010
Let's Roll...
Welcome and salutations end of the summer.
In this house the new year is always marked by the return to school -- not Labor Day, or New Year's Day -- just an inauspicious August day that changes every year that becomes my target date for fresh starts, or pumping energy into the old ones. I love me some autumn. Spring has never been my rejuvenation/resurrection season. It's always been the beginning of the slacker season -- the season I become easily distracted and sidetracked. Throw in some lazy and hot, and other than the mandatory obligations, nothing much gets done. I'm glad summer's over. It's now time to speed up my lackadaisical stroll. It's now time to focus, focus, focus.
I've cut away the dead hair, vibrated the color, stopped smoking, cut down on wine & popcorn consumption, am back to working out and walking, dug through the clutter of my office -- cleaned, organized and spruced it up. Once I catch up with the shop shit I'm parking myself in it. I'm setting a schedule. I am setting a deadline.
I recently read a blog by someone who wrote and edited a 76,000 word or thereabout, book in 26 days. 26 days. 26 days. Good grief! I've been working on mine 26 months. 26 months. 26 months! I'm still revising. I'll keep revising until I'm content. I may never be content. I'm a tough audience. I think of this as my one time shot. I want my first published book to leave an impression, a lasting one. If I can't, then I don't want to waste any more time writing books. It's a lonely and difficult road to take and not for the soft, or easily bruised. Nope, it's not an easy journey, but I've never been one to pick the easy way out, and I ain't giving up. As my husband asks, "You never do anything halfway, do you?" No, I guess I don't.
To get Monday morning moving..."Born to Be Wild." Let's roll...
In this house the new year is always marked by the return to school -- not Labor Day, or New Year's Day -- just an inauspicious August day that changes every year that becomes my target date for fresh starts, or pumping energy into the old ones. I love me some autumn. Spring has never been my rejuvenation/resurrection season. It's always been the beginning of the slacker season -- the season I become easily distracted and sidetracked. Throw in some lazy and hot, and other than the mandatory obligations, nothing much gets done. I'm glad summer's over. It's now time to speed up my lackadaisical stroll. It's now time to focus, focus, focus.
I've cut away the dead hair, vibrated the color, stopped smoking, cut down on wine & popcorn consumption, am back to working out and walking, dug through the clutter of my office -- cleaned, organized and spruced it up. Once I catch up with the shop shit I'm parking myself in it. I'm setting a schedule. I am setting a deadline.
I recently read a blog by someone who wrote and edited a 76,000 word or thereabout, book in 26 days. 26 days. 26 days. Good grief! I've been working on mine 26 months. 26 months. 26 months! I'm still revising. I'll keep revising until I'm content. I may never be content. I'm a tough audience. I think of this as my one time shot. I want my first published book to leave an impression, a lasting one. If I can't, then I don't want to waste any more time writing books. It's a lonely and difficult road to take and not for the soft, or easily bruised. Nope, it's not an easy journey, but I've never been one to pick the easy way out, and I ain't giving up. As my husband asks, "You never do anything halfway, do you?" No, I guess I don't.
To get Monday morning moving..."Born to Be Wild." Let's roll...
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Who Missed Out?
The other night I went to an art show at the high school where my daughter had a couple of photos exhibiting. Top left and bottom right are two of them...
She is quite the photographer.
I couldn't really appreciate the show because I had become distracted by all the senior posters I saw lining the walls on the way to the gym. Moms put together photos and other memorabilia of their graduating children on posterboards to commemorate their school lives. My son, as you know, is a senior. His mother did not participate in this practice. When I asked him if he wanted one of those posters he clearly expressed his desire not to have one. I obliged just like I obliged when he said he didn't want to go to homecoming, or the prom, or apply for any scholarships, or join any sports teams, or any after school clubs.
As I viewed the posters, recognizing so many of his classmates from elementary school, I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes. There were scores of homages -- their mothers put a lot of effort, time and money into honoring their children. I did nothing. I felt terrible. I felt like a bad mother. My daughter saw I was upset and kept asking what's the matter. I tried to hide it but couldn't. When I told her she laughed and said, "He didn't want one!" I know, but what if I wanted one? Maybe I wanted to look through old photos and reminisce. Maybe if I had gotten it out of my system making the collage I wouldn't be so weepy now.
I was always so involved in their early years at school -- volunteering, class mom, team mom, chess coach, newspaper editor, various PTA positions, etc. As they got older they required less and less of my time. By high school I felt my presence was no longer wanted/needed so I just faded back. Now it's hitting home that my little boy is graduating high school. Senior year is supposed to be such a whirlwind of activity. For my son, it wasn't. He doesn't seem to care, but I feel like I missed out. I have no pictures of him at homecoming and the prom since he didn't want to go to either. He didn't even want to buy his senior pictures so I didn't. There's no invitations or announcements for his graduation. Who would come anyway? The only person who would have made the trip, my father, is dead. My husband's mother doesn't even acknowledge my son. The rest of the family has banned me because of the memoir I'm writing. We're all he's got. We'll celebrate, but there'll be no wild party, he doesn't want one. We'll celebrate the way his life is, low key.
That same evening in the auditorium of the school there was another celebration for the seniors, an award ceremony. My son didn't go. He was working, but he wasn't even invited as he wasn't getting any award. They don't give out awards for being just a good kid. He pretty much went through his entire school career under the radar. In elementary school he was a chess champion but that's about his only claim to fame. He was an A/B student who never got into trouble. He always scored advanced on any SOL test, sometimes perfect scores. He scored the highest in his school on the PSAT and well on his SAT, has a 3.5 GPA and he's still not in the top 10%. He was the recipient of "is a pleasure to teach" and "works well with others" comments on his report cards. He was never part of the "in crowd." He never got invited to all the "cool parties." He was never suspended, or had detention, or arrested, or involved with drugging and drinking as some of those very same smiling faces on the exquisitely designed posters had been.
My son never sought to be popular. He has always been to himself, comfortable with a small circle of friends, instead of a sea of many acquaintances. He's so low-key that in the yearbook he received yesterday, where parents spent hundreds of dollars taking out ads congratulating their child -- no, not me, spending $70 on the yearbook was steep enough -- all that's listed under his photo is his name. He's so far under the radar that in the yearbook in the one other "shot" of him he's misidentified. Above a quote of his, there is a picture of an unknown black kid bearing my son's name. He doesn't even know who the kid is. Someone else might have freaked out at the error, but not my son. All he said is, "That's typical of Hidden Valley. Maybe I'll put it on Facebook." Nah, he doesn't care, but me, I feel like I missed out again...
She is quite the photographer.
I couldn't really appreciate the show because I had become distracted by all the senior posters I saw lining the walls on the way to the gym. Moms put together photos and other memorabilia of their graduating children on posterboards to commemorate their school lives. My son, as you know, is a senior. His mother did not participate in this practice. When I asked him if he wanted one of those posters he clearly expressed his desire not to have one. I obliged just like I obliged when he said he didn't want to go to homecoming, or the prom, or apply for any scholarships, or join any sports teams, or any after school clubs.
As I viewed the posters, recognizing so many of his classmates from elementary school, I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes. There were scores of homages -- their mothers put a lot of effort, time and money into honoring their children. I did nothing. I felt terrible. I felt like a bad mother. My daughter saw I was upset and kept asking what's the matter. I tried to hide it but couldn't. When I told her she laughed and said, "He didn't want one!" I know, but what if I wanted one? Maybe I wanted to look through old photos and reminisce. Maybe if I had gotten it out of my system making the collage I wouldn't be so weepy now.
I was always so involved in their early years at school -- volunteering, class mom, team mom, chess coach, newspaper editor, various PTA positions, etc. As they got older they required less and less of my time. By high school I felt my presence was no longer wanted/needed so I just faded back. Now it's hitting home that my little boy is graduating high school. Senior year is supposed to be such a whirlwind of activity. For my son, it wasn't. He doesn't seem to care, but I feel like I missed out. I have no pictures of him at homecoming and the prom since he didn't want to go to either. He didn't even want to buy his senior pictures so I didn't. There's no invitations or announcements for his graduation. Who would come anyway? The only person who would have made the trip, my father, is dead. My husband's mother doesn't even acknowledge my son. The rest of the family has banned me because of the memoir I'm writing. We're all he's got. We'll celebrate, but there'll be no wild party, he doesn't want one. We'll celebrate the way his life is, low key.
That same evening in the auditorium of the school there was another celebration for the seniors, an award ceremony. My son didn't go. He was working, but he wasn't even invited as he wasn't getting any award. They don't give out awards for being just a good kid. He pretty much went through his entire school career under the radar. In elementary school he was a chess champion but that's about his only claim to fame. He was an A/B student who never got into trouble. He always scored advanced on any SOL test, sometimes perfect scores. He scored the highest in his school on the PSAT and well on his SAT, has a 3.5 GPA and he's still not in the top 10%. He was the recipient of "is a pleasure to teach" and "works well with others" comments on his report cards. He was never part of the "in crowd." He never got invited to all the "cool parties." He was never suspended, or had detention, or arrested, or involved with drugging and drinking as some of those very same smiling faces on the exquisitely designed posters had been.
My son never sought to be popular. He has always been to himself, comfortable with a small circle of friends, instead of a sea of many acquaintances. He's so low-key that in the yearbook he received yesterday, where parents spent hundreds of dollars taking out ads congratulating their child -- no, not me, spending $70 on the yearbook was steep enough -- all that's listed under his photo is his name. He's so far under the radar that in the yearbook in the one other "shot" of him he's misidentified. Above a quote of his, there is a picture of an unknown black kid bearing my son's name. He doesn't even know who the kid is. Someone else might have freaked out at the error, but not my son. All he said is, "That's typical of Hidden Valley. Maybe I'll put it on Facebook." Nah, he doesn't care, but me, I feel like I missed out again...
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Four Reflections
I am enamored of this particular spot I encounter daily along the Roanoke River. There's just something about the reflection that always causes me to pause. Sometimes it's hard to tell where the reflection begins and ends. I inverted the shot so you could see what I mean. Here are four different pictures, not one photo edited four different ways. I switched my cheap camera's color settings and took four shots in a row. Which one do you think is the best reflection?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
I Can't Wait
Every time I get an out-of-town visitor I secretly pray they will fall in love with Roanoke and will stay here forever with me. Sadly that hasn't happened so far. I have another shot when my cousin from NYC rides Amtrak into Lynchburg. I hope his train ride is better than the Greyhound bus horror he experienced the last time he came here, 13 years ago. 13 years. That's how long it's taken him to get over his "Grapes of Wrath" experience. I don't know how I talked him into coming back and I figure he's gotta be damned depressed to finally agree. It's the midwinter madness.
Poor fool thinks it's going to be hot since he's coming to "The South." Haha! I told him we've probably had more snow here this year than he's had up in New York. Well, "had" since New York is getting hammered right now. He called to find out if we were getting much. Thankfully nothing but God awful winds, ice cold blasts not warm breezes. He hears Virginia and he's thinking hoop skirts, warm sunshine, magnolia trees and iced tea. Wrong. At least not in February.
As I do to every New Yorker that ventures my way, I begged him to bring cookies. "What they don't have bakeries in Roanoke?" Well, no, they actually don't, unless you count cupcakes and I don't. I'm talking more Fancy cookies, like the ones you see at Fresh Market, but taste good. Please bring me some 7-layers, pignoli and sesame seed cookies. I'll forgo the sharp provolone cheese and garlic, cheese & parsley sausage rings...bad for the diet anyway.
Actually more than any foodstuffs, I just want him here. It's been a long time since I hung out with a friend, laughed at nothing, stayed up late, and just had fun. I miss not having someone here who understands me, who puts up with me, who's not afraid of me, someone who hears me when I don't say a word. I miss playing Skipbo, Trivial Pursuit, Boggle, and Pictionary. I miss having someone who's not afraid to take out the video camera, record a skit with me and then put it on YouTube. I miss someone who shares my music tastes and past.
I can't wait to have someone here who will read my manuscript and tell me the truth, the real truth, even if it hurts me...someone who will look beyond bad grammar and tell me if my words want to make them read on or not, if I told the story.
I hope Amtrak doesn't get screwed up. I hope Roanoke doesn't screw up. This one I want to keep here.
Poor fool thinks it's going to be hot since he's coming to "The South." Haha! I told him we've probably had more snow here this year than he's had up in New York. Well, "had" since New York is getting hammered right now. He called to find out if we were getting much. Thankfully nothing but God awful winds, ice cold blasts not warm breezes. He hears Virginia and he's thinking hoop skirts, warm sunshine, magnolia trees and iced tea. Wrong. At least not in February.
As I do to every New Yorker that ventures my way, I begged him to bring cookies. "What they don't have bakeries in Roanoke?" Well, no, they actually don't, unless you count cupcakes and I don't. I'm talking more Fancy cookies, like the ones you see at Fresh Market, but taste good. Please bring me some 7-layers, pignoli and sesame seed cookies. I'll forgo the sharp provolone cheese and garlic, cheese & parsley sausage rings...bad for the diet anyway.
Actually more than any foodstuffs, I just want him here. It's been a long time since I hung out with a friend, laughed at nothing, stayed up late, and just had fun. I miss not having someone here who understands me, who puts up with me, who's not afraid of me, someone who hears me when I don't say a word. I miss playing Skipbo, Trivial Pursuit, Boggle, and Pictionary. I miss having someone who's not afraid to take out the video camera, record a skit with me and then put it on YouTube. I miss someone who shares my music tastes and past.
I can't wait to have someone here who will read my manuscript and tell me the truth, the real truth, even if it hurts me...someone who will look beyond bad grammar and tell me if my words want to make them read on or not, if I told the story.
I hope Amtrak doesn't get screwed up. I hope Roanoke doesn't screw up. This one I want to keep here.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Honest Scrap Award
Portia Sisco, whose blog tag line is "Thoughts on writing, the paranormal, and anything else that goes bump in the night", (so how could I not enjoy it?) was kind enough to bestow upon me the Honest Scrap Award.
Thanks! But there's a caveat in accepting this badge of honor...I have to reveal ten things about myself. Only ten? I guess I'll work my way up in the years starting with...
1. I was born in Bensonhurst which is the coolest neighborhood in Brooklyn.
2. I bought my first pack of cigarettes when I was 5 years old. The guy behind the counter at the luncheonette passed me a pack of real Marlboros when all I wanted was candy cigarettes. See how cool Bensonhurst is? Naturally I couldn't just throw them away so I tried one. I don't remember how it tasted but Marlboro was my choice for 35 years. I quit cold turkey and don't even long for it anymore.
3. I smoked my first cigar at 10 years old. My father, who didn't smoke except for the occasional cigar that someone would give him, lit it up for me. I didn't choke, and sat with him smoking it while watching the New York Mets play. I still enjoy a fine cigar now and then as long as it's accompanied with a sifter of brandy.
4. The show "Welcome Back Kotter" was supposed to take place at the high school I attended. At the beginning of the opening credits there are three girls standing in the cold on the corner. I think that's me and two of my friends.
5. I used to sing in a punk rock band called "Shortwave." Now I play drums in Rockband because my kids will not let me sing. They say I make their ears bleed.
6. Most of my jobs were media related and I think I covered every avenue. Some places I've worked: Warner Books, Universal Pictures, Radio Advertising Bureau, LBS Communications, ABC News, The Roanoke Times. I liked working in television best.
7. I've been married three times. The first was to a musician/key grip. The second to a musician/Danish author. The third to an auto mechanic/woodworker. Besides having two great kids and an auto repair business together I don't have as much "in common" with #3 as I did the first two losers. Since we're still together after 20 years that seems to actually be a good thing.
8. I moved to Roanoke 15 years ago to give my kids a better life. I don't regret it, because the kids flourished here, but not a day goes by that I don't long for New York, the city, the people, the food, the vibe. I still feel like a square peg in a round hole here.
9. I miss my father terribly. He died under mysterious circumstances two years ago and his death was the catalyst for my first book, a memoir entitled, "Oblivious" which is undergoing the third revision. I'm almost there.
10. Any time I've met a medium or a psychic they tell me I'm a medium or psychic, (yes I do know who is on the phone before I pick it up and no it's not because of caller id) which may also explain why every apartment and house I have ever lived in was "haunted." The paranormal book I was researching was supposed to be my "first book" but due to circumstances beyond my control has been put "on hold." I also enjoy going on paranormal investigations.
Well there ya go...ten things you now know about me...I could go on and on and on, but I'll spare you. Although there are many blogs that I would pass this award onto there's one guy who is the epitome of Honest Scrap...A Fistful of Donuts blog...Krispy, this award's for you!
Thanks! But there's a caveat in accepting this badge of honor...I have to reveal ten things about myself. Only ten? I guess I'll work my way up in the years starting with...
1. I was born in Bensonhurst which is the coolest neighborhood in Brooklyn.
2. I bought my first pack of cigarettes when I was 5 years old. The guy behind the counter at the luncheonette passed me a pack of real Marlboros when all I wanted was candy cigarettes. See how cool Bensonhurst is? Naturally I couldn't just throw them away so I tried one. I don't remember how it tasted but Marlboro was my choice for 35 years. I quit cold turkey and don't even long for it anymore.
3. I smoked my first cigar at 10 years old. My father, who didn't smoke except for the occasional cigar that someone would give him, lit it up for me. I didn't choke, and sat with him smoking it while watching the New York Mets play. I still enjoy a fine cigar now and then as long as it's accompanied with a sifter of brandy.
4. The show "Welcome Back Kotter" was supposed to take place at the high school I attended. At the beginning of the opening credits there are three girls standing in the cold on the corner. I think that's me and two of my friends.
5. I used to sing in a punk rock band called "Shortwave." Now I play drums in Rockband because my kids will not let me sing. They say I make their ears bleed.
6. Most of my jobs were media related and I think I covered every avenue. Some places I've worked: Warner Books, Universal Pictures, Radio Advertising Bureau, LBS Communications, ABC News, The Roanoke Times. I liked working in television best.
7. I've been married three times. The first was to a musician/key grip. The second to a musician/Danish author. The third to an auto mechanic/woodworker. Besides having two great kids and an auto repair business together I don't have as much "in common" with #3 as I did the first two losers. Since we're still together after 20 years that seems to actually be a good thing.
8. I moved to Roanoke 15 years ago to give my kids a better life. I don't regret it, because the kids flourished here, but not a day goes by that I don't long for New York, the city, the people, the food, the vibe. I still feel like a square peg in a round hole here.
9. I miss my father terribly. He died under mysterious circumstances two years ago and his death was the catalyst for my first book, a memoir entitled, "Oblivious" which is undergoing the third revision. I'm almost there.
10. Any time I've met a medium or a psychic they tell me I'm a medium or psychic, (yes I do know who is on the phone before I pick it up and no it's not because of caller id) which may also explain why every apartment and house I have ever lived in was "haunted." The paranormal book I was researching was supposed to be my "first book" but due to circumstances beyond my control has been put "on hold." I also enjoy going on paranormal investigations.
Well there ya go...ten things you now know about me...I could go on and on and on, but I'll spare you. Although there are many blogs that I would pass this award onto there's one guy who is the epitome of Honest Scrap...A Fistful of Donuts blog...Krispy, this award's for you!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
My Little Boy, Always
18 years ago during a major Brooklyn snowstorm I gave birth to my firstborn, my son. On his first birthday there was another blizzard and the only people that showed up to celebrate were his grandparents. Both of them are gone now but I know they are looking down from above and are as proud of him as I am.
No matter what else I do in life, nothing will ever be as great an accomplishment, nor mean as much to me, as being a mother to him (and my daughter) has been. As someone who wasn't supposed to be able to have children, I am so thankful and humbled to have been blessed with the best son I could have ever dreamed of having. During all the years I questioned "why am I here?" the answer became clear the first time I gazed upon his face. It was never a "sacrifice" to give up the life I had and the future I "could have had." My career just shifted. And now it could begin to shift again.
Although my "job" will never be done, I feel it has come to a crossroads. It's now up to my son to continue on the straight path that I hope I've shown him. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders and I don't have need to worry, yet. I think back to where I was at 18, what I was doing, and the relationship I had with my mother. It was quite a different scenario. As soon as I graduated high school, I wanted out of there. I don't know if I've done "better" with my kids than my mother did with me but I do know we have a good, healthy relationship. My son's not looking to run away anywhere. I'll just have to wait and see if that's good or not.
For his first birthday I had created a video montage of his first year using "The Jackson Song" as the soundtrack. I have it on VHS and watching it brings tears to my eyes. I wish I could share it with you but since I can't I'll share the song instead. Happy 18th birthday son...you'll always be my little boy. I see great things in your future...
***UPDATE*** When the 18 year old rolled out of bed around noon the first thing he said was, "I'm running down the corner to buy cigarettes, then I'm getting a tattoo and joining the service." Of course he was only kidding (I think.) He was still sleepy enough to let his sister transform him into The Unknown Birthday Boy. At least he's got a sense of humor.
"The Jackson Song" by Patti Smith
Little blue dreamer go to sleep
Let's close our eyes and call the deep
slumbering land that just begins
When day is done and little dreamers spin
First take my hand now let it go
Little blue boy you're on your own
Little blue wings as those feet fly
Little blue shoes that walk across the sky
May your path be your own
But I'm with you
And each day you'll grow
He'll be there too
And someday when you go
We'll follow you
As you go, as you go
Little blue star that offers light
Little blue bird that offers flight
Little blue path where those feet fall
Little blue dreamer won't you dream it all
And in your travels you will see
Warrior wings remember Daddy
And if a mama bird you see
Folding her wings will you remember me
As you go, as you go
As you go, as you go
No matter what else I do in life, nothing will ever be as great an accomplishment, nor mean as much to me, as being a mother to him (and my daughter) has been. As someone who wasn't supposed to be able to have children, I am so thankful and humbled to have been blessed with the best son I could have ever dreamed of having. During all the years I questioned "why am I here?" the answer became clear the first time I gazed upon his face. It was never a "sacrifice" to give up the life I had and the future I "could have had." My career just shifted. And now it could begin to shift again.
Although my "job" will never be done, I feel it has come to a crossroads. It's now up to my son to continue on the straight path that I hope I've shown him. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders and I don't have need to worry, yet. I think back to where I was at 18, what I was doing, and the relationship I had with my mother. It was quite a different scenario. As soon as I graduated high school, I wanted out of there. I don't know if I've done "better" with my kids than my mother did with me but I do know we have a good, healthy relationship. My son's not looking to run away anywhere. I'll just have to wait and see if that's good or not.
For his first birthday I had created a video montage of his first year using "The Jackson Song" as the soundtrack. I have it on VHS and watching it brings tears to my eyes. I wish I could share it with you but since I can't I'll share the song instead. Happy 18th birthday son...you'll always be my little boy. I see great things in your future...
***UPDATE*** When the 18 year old rolled out of bed around noon the first thing he said was, "I'm running down the corner to buy cigarettes, then I'm getting a tattoo and joining the service." Of course he was only kidding (I think.) He was still sleepy enough to let his sister transform him into The Unknown Birthday Boy. At least he's got a sense of humor.
"The Jackson Song" by Patti Smith
Little blue dreamer go to sleep
Let's close our eyes and call the deep
slumbering land that just begins
When day is done and little dreamers spin
First take my hand now let it go
Little blue boy you're on your own
Little blue wings as those feet fly
Little blue shoes that walk across the sky
May your path be your own
But I'm with you
And each day you'll grow
He'll be there too
And someday when you go
We'll follow you
As you go, as you go
Little blue star that offers light
Little blue bird that offers flight
Little blue path where those feet fall
Little blue dreamer won't you dream it all
And in your travels you will see
Warrior wings remember Daddy
And if a mama bird you see
Folding her wings will you remember me
As you go, as you go
As you go, as you go
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Straggler
There's always a straggler left behind. The rebel decoration that doesn't want to join its comrades already packed away neatly in boxes. It hides out discreetly until the sun emerges to cast its bright light through the window. Dancing with joy from the forced heated air, glimmers of light shoot from the last tinsel and reflect across the wall. The distraction causes me to bring my nose from the book to the strange light. I see the last tinsel waving hello to me.
If only it had shown itself a couple of days ago it would be nestled safely with all the other decorations awaiting to return next Christmas. I feel bad ripping it off the wall and throwing it away, but only for a second.
If only it had shown itself a couple of days ago it would be nestled safely with all the other decorations awaiting to return next Christmas. I feel bad ripping it off the wall and throwing it away, but only for a second.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)