Tuesday, November 11, 2014
MJust Sayin: My Cup (and my plate) Runneth Over
MJust Sayin: My Cup (and my plate) Runneth Over: Runneth? Of course there is a red squiggly line underneath that word. Runneth. It is kind of an old fashioned word, which I had to invest...
MJust Sayin: My Cup (and my plate) Runneth Over
MJust Sayin: My Cup (and my plate) Runneth Over: Runneth? Of course there is a red squiggly line underneath that word. Runneth. It is kind of an old fashioned word, which I had to invest...
MJust Sayin: My Cup (and my plate) Runneth Over
MJust Sayin: My Cup (and my plate) Runneth Over: Runneth? Of course there is a red squiggly line underneath that word. Runneth. It is kind of an old fashioned word, which I had to invest...
My Cup (and my plate) Runneth Over
Runneth? Of course there is a red squiggly line underneath that word. Runneth. It is kind of an old fashioned word, which I had to investigate to make sure I was spelling and using correctly. I make up words a lot so I wanted to make sure it, in fact. was a word. Well it is and I really only saw it used in the phrase which I am borrowing as my blog title. I suppose we can use it in everyday life- "I had to runneth to the mall." " I have a runneth in my pantyhose?" Do people still wear those? Runneth- Doesn't quite work, but then again, I am using words in my every day life that I never used before- words like BLOG, GAGA, COOPER and now since five weeks ago, RORY!!!
The last ones are the major reason for my the fact that my CUP is RUNNETH way, way over, in fact I believe it has SPILLETH all over the place. It was only five weeks ago that I became a grandmother ...Gaga,,,again. Rory Lee Ann was born, a little peanut of a thing, but because she was a c-section, she was scheduled early. I reassured my daughter that the weird feeling of planning the day your second baby is born, is somewhat normal. It is, I guess, because your first one just kind of came when they were ready. I remember feeling the same way as I sat in the hospital the night before my son was born. I remember praying that my water would break so I would be sure I picked the right day to have a baby. It is a feeling only c-section moms would understand. Nevertheless, the world got a little sweeter on that Monday when that baby girl...grandchild number two, made her debut, sure to give her big brother a run for his money. Pure joy but also pure worry. My baby girl was in there having a baby girl and it is- like I had quipped before-" an extra layer of worry".
Well Miss Rory had a little rocky start as she was not gaining weight - at least not enough. So I walk in the hospital room to find my baby girl sobbing and worried and wanting to go home (because some Shidiot there gave her the wrong idea that would be going home when neither of them were really ready), and because they were concerned . My blood runneth cold. Now let me fast forward to say that Rory is awesome...healthy and doing everything a five week old should be, she's eating, not just eating, chugging...chugging like her Gaga at Happy Hour, but for a while there...
I would sleep in the chair at the hospital, go to work, go get different clothes and go back and do it again. But that is just what you do when you're a mom. But,in the meantime I hear from my mom- that she will come to the hospital to see the baby today because she has Chemo later in the week. Yeah- that shit is still going on. There was a time when things were better with her, but it seems like the pill weren't working (if she was taking them, that is) and now it's back to Chemo every three weeks. My mom- or the woman that used to be my mom, seems to have given up or can't muster up a reason to make the most of the present, not realizing that it is just that- a present.
We will celebrate he 80th birthday soon and we will enter into another holiday season but this year with a new precious love of our life- but she prefers to dwell on the fact the chemo makes her tired and there she sits and chain smokes. Yeah chemo and chain smoke in the same obnoxious runneth -on sentence,
Then- I found out that my dad has to have cataract surgery. Not a biggie- but I insisted on going with him to the doctor only to learn that he has been seeing double for a while. Yep, seeing double and of course he still driving all over east Jesus but, hopefully stopping at all the STOP STOP signs he sees. What the Fuck??? Of course, this is just one of the many things they keep from me and my sister. They take our concern and our suggestions as "bossy" and intrusive and don't let us in on everything. My dad still kind of has it together, other than the whole seeing double thing and the fact that couldn't hear the fire truck siren from Mr Holland's Opus- he is pretty sharp, He goes with my mom to her doctors and scans and chemo appointments. He has all the paper work, that I sneak over to read. (I diverted them with some homemade soup). There was a box full of doctor reports. They have their own version of HIPAA in that house. I guess we are still kids in their eyes and won't accept our help.
But since Virginia Slims over there, was in no condition to take him to the doctor, I took the day off to go with him. It was kind of nice to be there for him, although I had to practically arm wrestled him to sign the health proxy so I can be alerted to his health needs etc. He is the primary caretaker in that house- a role I know first hand that he is not very comfortable with.
Looking forward - there will be more than a few days where my dad won't be able to do a whole lot-(like see). So that means I will be spending quite a bit of time down in Tobacco Row, making sure she takes her medicine, making sure she has groceries, and clean clothes, making sure they eat, taking her to her doctors and maybe hiding her lighter! Yikes-
I have been in this sandwich generation situation for a while but now it is starting to feel more like a fucking panini press.But it's okay-I know where to go to get my fix.. After that morning of the eye doctor day, I spent time with my daughter and her kids....kids!!!
On that same day of eye drops and surgery dates, I was changing the baby and told my precious granddaughter how beautiful she is and she smiled at me...an honest to goodness, non gas induced smile! I love that when she hears my voice- her eyes light up and she looks right into my eyes and we ...connect. Pure LOVE- it takes my breath away. Also on the day, I witnessed my grandson become a "double showcase winner"... his words. He apparently watches The Price is Right before pre-school and he seriously came pretty fucking close to winning both of those showcases. He also informed us that "Humira is not for everyone". He's gotta stop watching that station. Most kids would be drooling over cartoons before school---not my boy- he can tell you how an AARP reverse mortgage works. It was one of those bi -polar days. It began with aggravation and concern and ended with laughter and joy.
Now when I looked up the Cup Runneth Over phrase- it eluded to the fact that I have more than my share. I'll take it! I do have way more than my share. The good for sure and sometime- in weaker moments, the bad too. I have always felt so extremely fortunate when it came to the family that I created and now, watching them all moving on to making their own little families, it is truly overwhelming, The other crap- -well- what are you gonna do?
To quote my dad- "well you just gotta go with the flow".
To quote my grandmother- "if everyone went to Front Park with their problems (to trade) they would all come back with their same old problems".
To quote Mel Brooks- "It could be worse- it could be raining"
So yeah, my plate is fulleth and my cup is way runneth over- but that's okay-eth, Those are just words, some are old and some are made up, but the meaning is the same today. As for the words that have just recently become a part of my lexicon- well up until a few years ago- a Cooper was a barrel maker- Rory was a character in a story my grandfather used to tell and Gaga meant to be head over heels over something. I guess that last one still rings true ....just sayin'
The last ones are the major reason for my the fact that my CUP is RUNNETH way, way over, in fact I believe it has SPILLETH all over the place. It was only five weeks ago that I became a grandmother ...Gaga,,,again. Rory Lee Ann was born, a little peanut of a thing, but because she was a c-section, she was scheduled early. I reassured my daughter that the weird feeling of planning the day your second baby is born, is somewhat normal. It is, I guess, because your first one just kind of came when they were ready. I remember feeling the same way as I sat in the hospital the night before my son was born. I remember praying that my water would break so I would be sure I picked the right day to have a baby. It is a feeling only c-section moms would understand. Nevertheless, the world got a little sweeter on that Monday when that baby girl...grandchild number two, made her debut, sure to give her big brother a run for his money. Pure joy but also pure worry. My baby girl was in there having a baby girl and it is- like I had quipped before-" an extra layer of worry".
Well Miss Rory had a little rocky start as she was not gaining weight - at least not enough. So I walk in the hospital room to find my baby girl sobbing and worried and wanting to go home (because some Shidiot there gave her the wrong idea that would be going home when neither of them were really ready), and because they were concerned . My blood runneth cold. Now let me fast forward to say that Rory is awesome...healthy and doing everything a five week old should be, she's eating, not just eating, chugging...chugging like her Gaga at Happy Hour, but for a while there...
I would sleep in the chair at the hospital, go to work, go get different clothes and go back and do it again. But that is just what you do when you're a mom. But,in the meantime I hear from my mom- that she will come to the hospital to see the baby today because she has Chemo later in the week. Yeah- that shit is still going on. There was a time when things were better with her, but it seems like the pill weren't working (if she was taking them, that is) and now it's back to Chemo every three weeks. My mom- or the woman that used to be my mom, seems to have given up or can't muster up a reason to make the most of the present, not realizing that it is just that- a present.
We will celebrate he 80th birthday soon and we will enter into another holiday season but this year with a new precious love of our life- but she prefers to dwell on the fact the chemo makes her tired and there she sits and chain smokes. Yeah chemo and chain smoke in the same obnoxious runneth -on sentence,
Then- I found out that my dad has to have cataract surgery. Not a biggie- but I insisted on going with him to the doctor only to learn that he has been seeing double for a while. Yep, seeing double and of course he still driving all over east Jesus but, hopefully stopping at all the STOP STOP signs he sees. What the Fuck??? Of course, this is just one of the many things they keep from me and my sister. They take our concern and our suggestions as "bossy" and intrusive and don't let us in on everything. My dad still kind of has it together, other than the whole seeing double thing and the fact that couldn't hear the fire truck siren from Mr Holland's Opus- he is pretty sharp, He goes with my mom to her doctors and scans and chemo appointments. He has all the paper work, that I sneak over to read. (I diverted them with some homemade soup). There was a box full of doctor reports. They have their own version of HIPAA in that house. I guess we are still kids in their eyes and won't accept our help.
But since Virginia Slims over there, was in no condition to take him to the doctor, I took the day off to go with him. It was kind of nice to be there for him, although I had to practically arm wrestled him to sign the health proxy so I can be alerted to his health needs etc. He is the primary caretaker in that house- a role I know first hand that he is not very comfortable with.
Looking forward - there will be more than a few days where my dad won't be able to do a whole lot-(like see). So that means I will be spending quite a bit of time down in Tobacco Row, making sure she takes her medicine, making sure she has groceries, and clean clothes, making sure they eat, taking her to her doctors and maybe hiding her lighter! Yikes-
I have been in this sandwich generation situation for a while but now it is starting to feel more like a fucking panini press.But it's okay-I know where to go to get my fix.. After that morning of the eye doctor day, I spent time with my daughter and her kids....kids!!!
On that same day of eye drops and surgery dates, I was changing the baby and told my precious granddaughter how beautiful she is and she smiled at me...an honest to goodness, non gas induced smile! I love that when she hears my voice- her eyes light up and she looks right into my eyes and we ...connect. Pure LOVE- it takes my breath away. Also on the day, I witnessed my grandson become a "double showcase winner"... his words. He apparently watches The Price is Right before pre-school and he seriously came pretty fucking close to winning both of those showcases. He also informed us that "Humira is not for everyone". He's gotta stop watching that station. Most kids would be drooling over cartoons before school---not my boy- he can tell you how an AARP reverse mortgage works. It was one of those bi -polar days. It began with aggravation and concern and ended with laughter and joy.
Now when I looked up the Cup Runneth Over phrase- it eluded to the fact that I have more than my share. I'll take it! I do have way more than my share. The good for sure and sometime- in weaker moments, the bad too. I have always felt so extremely fortunate when it came to the family that I created and now, watching them all moving on to making their own little families, it is truly overwhelming, The other crap- -well- what are you gonna do?
To quote my dad- "well you just gotta go with the flow".
To quote my grandmother- "if everyone went to Front Park with their problems (to trade) they would all come back with their same old problems".
To quote Mel Brooks- "It could be worse- it could be raining"
So yeah, my plate is fulleth and my cup is way runneth over- but that's okay-eth, Those are just words, some are old and some are made up, but the meaning is the same today. As for the words that have just recently become a part of my lexicon- well up until a few years ago- a Cooper was a barrel maker- Rory was a character in a story my grandfather used to tell and Gaga meant to be head over heels over something. I guess that last one still rings true ....just sayin'
Friday, September 26, 2014
I'm Italian-that's why!
Actually, if you must know I'm Sicilian...100% and proud of it! I do though have to apologize to my non-Italian readers. I'm sorry if you cannot relate to this blog. I'm sorry that you may not agree or understand some of the things I write about. I'm sorry , in fact, that you are all not Italian ,because being Italian is the best thing in the world....at least that's how I was raised. I swear if you were Italian. you moved up a few places in my parents' book.
A couple years ago I went to a staff development in service about diversity. We sat in a circle and the icebreaker for the group was to talk about how our parents brought us up and what they taught us about other races and religions. So one by one these people, these liars I thought, talked about how their parents told them that everyone is equal. It doesn't matter what nationality or religion or race they are...you treat everyone the same. Bullshit! Seriously everyone must have been raised by Gandhi or Mother Theresa or something. I started to get all hot and nervous- what the hell am I going to say? Then I realized there was not one West Side of Buffalo Italian in the mix.. So when they got to me. I said "well, if I am being honest, my parent were the most prejudiced people around- I was taught if you weren't Italian you weren't quite as good as we were" I got a lot of dirty looks-but I have to say it was kind of cool to admit that, Sorry Americanis, that was my childhood
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A couple years ago I went to a staff development in service about diversity. We sat in a circle and the icebreaker for the group was to talk about how our parents brought us up and what they taught us about other races and religions. So one by one these people, these liars I thought, talked about how their parents told them that everyone is equal. It doesn't matter what nationality or religion or race they are...you treat everyone the same. Bullshit! Seriously everyone must have been raised by Gandhi or Mother Theresa or something. I started to get all hot and nervous- what the hell am I going to say? Then I realized there was not one West Side of Buffalo Italian in the mix.. So when they got to me. I said "well, if I am being honest, my parent were the most prejudiced people around- I was taught if you weren't Italian you weren't quite as good as we were" I got a lot of dirty looks-but I have to say it was kind of cool to admit that, Sorry Americanis, that was my childhood
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My childhood consisted of sauce (not gravy )every Wednesday and Sunday. On Sunday, we would go to my grandparent's-Mimi and Papa-that is. We would go right after church and stay until Ed Sullivan. We would have macaroni and meatballs and spareribs and beef and on special occasions, ox tails or braciole, Then we would have nuts and spumoni ice cream. After hours of eating my sister and my cousins would go play to the sounds of Vicki Carr (let it please he him...) or Connie Francis or Al Martino (more on him later). Eventually my grandparents had a taste for some non Italian music- Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass....I'll never understand what the connection was but they loved that Dating Game theme! Then we would watch THE BIG SHOW OF THE WEEK ( I only remember seeing the same three movies on the Big Show of the Week, two of them starred Don Knotts...they just re ran them over and over) After that "sangwiches " for dinner. And that was EVERY Sunday! We didn't know any different, I mean didn't everyone do this?
Didn't everyone live above, behind or next door to their grandparents. Grandparents who would think nothing of giving a seven year old a glass of brandy because it was cold out. I wonder if I spent any part of my elementary school years a little drunk- who would know. We lived on the West Side- everyone was Italian so probably our whole class had no problem at nap time- especially in the dead of winter. If you went to School 49 in the 1960's and you know who YOUS are- you probably can relate.
At Christmas we didn't make cutout cookies - we had cuccidatis (fig cookies) gigilani (sesame seed cookies) butter balls ( those powder sugary onse that if you try to sneak one in the middle of the night, you may or may not risk choking to death by inhaling the sugar as you shove one in your mouth- yes I am speaking from experience, ) The food, oh the food! My Mimi would make the most delicious food-half of the recipes she made up. She made macaroni with....with peas, with broccoli, with cauliflower, with anything, And it wasn't pasta ...it was MACARONI -curly (rotini), spears (penne) unless, of course, it was spaghetti . Anything breaded with Italian bread crumbs and fried .... yum...anything that starts out with garlic and olive oil -which incidentally is the BEST smell in the world-hands down! Can we talk about gardooni? Okay so a while ago a fellow Italian brought me a big bag of gardoons and plopped them on my desk. Gardooms are weeds that grow, as I remember my grandparent's saying, on the side of the road. If you have never seen them I guess they kind of resemble rhubarb....you clean them, boil the shit out of them, dip them in egg and flour and fry them....to everyone else- wtf? to Italians- heaven! We do love to eat... In my kitchen the words Mangia e Statti Zitto are proudly displayed- translation- Shut up and Eat!!
Oh and for the record it's not MANICOTTI ...it's mani GO ti - not RICOTTA - rig GO tha....and a colander or a strainer is a scolapasta. As a little girl from Busti Avenue thrown into the suburbs it was kind of hard to realize that not everyone talked like that - doesn't everyone know what chichidee is ..(chick peas) By the way, there is nothing sweeter than my grandson (1/16 th Italian) grabbing his head and saying "oh my GAGOOZA !"
Whenever anything Italian related is on tv (and not those stupid Olive Garden embarrassing Italians) I can relate. The Godfather ( and yes I have been asked a million times if my family was in the Mafia and yes the answer is NO) I love that movie and Goodfellas- not so much for the story, but for the way the picked up on the nuances of being Italian. The cooking, the eating, the shouting (it's just regular talking) the slang or the way Sonny Corleone bites his fist when he's mad- just like Mimi used to! Oh and the weddings....yes my wedding had a couple fights and an uncle storming out it, but it goes down in history because my Uncle Jimmy pulled a gun on my sound guy and told him to play more Al Martino music. Yep...that was my wedding, Like in the Goodfella's wedding, where they are all named Peter or Paul- my dad's side of the family you only need to know three names- Fred, Joe or Angelo and you've got just about everyone covered.
There is a certain comfort in knowing that a lot of these things are kind of universal among Italians. As an adult, I talk to other Italians and reminisce as though we grew up together -it's like we have the same history. I especially like when you don't realize someone is Italian - with me, it's pretty easy -dark eyes, black hair, year round tan- I was once referred to by a teacher as "the map of Sicily". With some people, you're not sure then you start a conversation and they mention bleaching their upper lip by the age of 10 or they knock stuff over with their flailing hands as they talk (I just did that the other day) or they do the gasp, The gasp is the sound most Italians make which sounds like they are sucking all the air out of the room. This gasp is done with the same intensity, no matter what. If you drop a piece of paper or almost get hit by a car...it's the same sound! If you re Italian you've heard this sound a million time. I just did it now because I deleted the wrong sentence.
Now I've never been to Italy but I am perpetually saving to go and I know I will get there someday. But until then we should all try to be more Italian - instead of scarfing down lunch in a half hour-
Let's lunch like Italians. Lunch in Italy they say, is the most important meal. I hear store shut down between 1:00 and 4:00 for pausa pranzo (lunch break) throw a nap in there- I can so do that, no problem!
Let's hug and kiss more. I remember it taking my family hours to say good bye. So much hugging and kissing because we would have to wait all the way to next Sunday to see them again. The first time we met with my daughter's "in-laws to be" (not Italian), they commented on how they have never been hugged or kissed so much- I can think of worse problems
Let's keep our traditions alive. I want my my grandkids to grow up knowing about St. Joseph Day . When they get older I want them to celebrate that day as a day to eat as much as St. Patrick's Day is a day to drink. That middle week of March is very cultural for my kids!
So there you have it ,belle lettori- Italian! I've left so much out I'm sure and I'm also sure my Goomadis will let me know and maybe there will be a part due someday.
And for those of you who are wondering how my parent reacted when I brought home a green eyed, fair skinned, Irish guy home...never fear - he's a part Italian....the best part- just sayin
Let's lunch like Italians. Lunch in Italy they say, is the most important meal. I hear store shut down between 1:00 and 4:00 for pausa pranzo (lunch break) throw a nap in there- I can so do that, no problem!
Let's hug and kiss more. I remember it taking my family hours to say good bye. So much hugging and kissing because we would have to wait all the way to next Sunday to see them again. The first time we met with my daughter's "in-laws to be" (not Italian), they commented on how they have never been hugged or kissed so much- I can think of worse problems
Let's keep our traditions alive. I want my my grandkids to grow up knowing about St. Joseph Day . When they get older I want them to celebrate that day as a day to eat as much as St. Patrick's Day is a day to drink. That middle week of March is very cultural for my kids!
So there you have it ,belle lettori- Italian! I've left so much out I'm sure and I'm also sure my Goomadis will let me know and maybe there will be a part due someday.
And for those of you who are wondering how my parent reacted when I brought home a green eyed, fair skinned, Irish guy home...never fear - he's a part Italian....the best part- just sayin
Sunday, June 1, 2014
The Adventures of Knuckleheaded Finn, Johnny Cash & Larry Bird
I realized I haven't blogged in awhile . I have been up to my elbows...make that shoulders, in dog. My dog has taken over most of my time and just about all of my sleeping quarters. Plus, every time I would sit down to write I would have to keep adding another item to the list of stuff Finn has eaten/destroyed. To date the list includes ( and may be updated mid blog):
A pound of cooked bacon
Two small steaks
A container of Nestles' Quik ( 95% sugar, not chocolate, I checked)
A pair of my daughter's pricey hospital work shoes
One and half travel mugs
A wooden spoon
1/2 carton of Italian seasoned bread crumbs (carton included)
Most of a puzzle
Two sticks of butter
Numerous flip flops
The octopus part of a Dr. Octopus action figure
A box of toothpicks
Various sections of the Buffalo News
A sippy cup or two
Numerous plastic containers
A plate of leftover wagon wheel pasta
Possibly an E Cigarette (it's missing, and I do have a very suspicious looking cat I've been questioning)...
I can't tell you how I panic when I can't located my phone, my glasses or one of the other pets. But I can tell you how much I LOVE this dog! He is truly a knucklehead, but I defend him like a bad parent that makes excuses for their unruly teenager. " I put the dish in the sink and not the dishwasher, so it's really my fault he got to it" Most of my conversations are peppered with Tourette like out bursts of "Get down Finn" or "knock it off Finn". But this extra large, 7 month old, 40 or 50 pound puppy has my heart and some of my shoes.
I may have mentioned, in a previous blog, that he escaped a couple months ago while on a walk. He was found 22 hours later. They were 22 of the most heartbreaking hours too. I felt guilty that I did something wrong, I was petrified that he was petrified being somewhere strange. In fact, he was found in a garage ...petrified. I was actually surprised at my reaction. I have lost pets before ( one just a few months previous), This was different, he was lost- lost. I didn't know where he was and the uncertainty of it and loss of control just sucker punched me in the gut. Now the events of the last couple years have been anything but smooth sailing, and maybe this was just the last straw, but I cried like a baby over this dog. Even his arch enemy/partner in crime, Louie the miracle dog missed him! He was moping around the house until we found him....then immediately back to hating him!
Not to say there were not some bright moments, even some we found humorous (surprise surprise) in this ordeal. Just the fact that we were driving (on an anonymous tip) 20 plus miles away looking for him while he was snuggled in a garage a half a block away. Also that the first person we stopped and asked if they "had seen a dog" was blind., yep blind. "have you seen a dog....ever?" We stopped sketchiest looking people, people I wouldn't have asked for help if I was on fire. "Have you seen my lost puppy, Mr. Drug Dealer." EVERY person had a story to tell us about their dog too... everyone was Dr. Fucking Doolittle ....my dog this and my dog that. This isn't a freaking episode of Too Cute on Animal Planet- have you seen my dog or not, asshole?
Kidding aside, the people that rallied around to help find my Finn was overwhelming. Social media and face to face human contact with SPCAs and Animal Control were ready, willing and able to help ..which they did! So my big, blobby face, floppy eared monster dog is here at my feet as I blog today. I am so lucky and appreciative of every moment he is here. ( maybe not the shoe chewing part....but it's not his fault....he's just a puppy)
Now in our 30 plus years of marriage, we have had a menagerie of animals of all shapes and sizes starting with Toots. Toots was a the giant parrot ( a nanday conure to be exact.) We couldn't have pets in our first apartment and I have always wanted a house full of animals. You see, my mom was sort of anti-animal. We did not have pets growing up (not counting the scores of goldfish, a few of which were suicidal which were found outside of the bowl and of course, Tommy the turtle that RAN away, really, ran?)
We used to spend our childhood summers in a beautiful cottage in Canada. One day my dad brought home two kittens, Blackie and Sylvester. Now I choose to use Blackie when we play the Porn Name Game and the fact that I was born on Busti Avenue, well, yeah I usually win! Best porn name, with maybe the exception of my husband's: Toots Mt. Vernon. yeeesssss! So yeah, Toots was his first pet experience. So when I suggested a bird, he came home with this loud, but gorgeous, but loud, caw-ing Jurassic Park-ish creature. He lasted not even a year. I got pregnant and I think my husband feared I would bang on the crib with a rolled up newspaper when our baby made noise, so he got rid of Toots. I am not sure who or where but he gave him to a friend who may or may not have lived in the Rain Forest. We had 3 birds total in our pet owning career, Toots, Larry Bird and Snapple. Snapple 's official cause of death: licked to death by our cat, Willie. Larry Bird also died under mysterious circumstances after we failed to bring him to the St. Francis pet blessing at our church. Coincidence...I think not. We also had our share of rodents too, MC Hamster, Cosmo the Guinea Pig. After the Larry Bird incident, we decided to take all our pets to be blessed. We would show up with two dogs, two cats and shoe box of hamsters. We would come up to the priest with a shaking Nike box, the lid a-rumbling and he would thumb though the Bible looking for the section on exorcism. One time we had a guinea pig in a little Igloo cooler, the kind people use when they are harvesting organs. We dreamt this elaborate scenario where there was a case of the mistaken cooler, you know, the old pick up the wrong brief case bit. There in the O.R.- a much surprised doctor, expecting a throbbing organ, is handed a screeching ball of fur. You think of a lot of things when you are managing three kids and six pets. I always hoped, as I waited in line, that I would be blessed as well. I think when you own pets, you kind of already are.
The priest would run by us and splash the whole lot of us with holy water. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it didn't. Enter Johnny Cash ( a didn't) . Johnny Cash was a Mother's Day present after losing Simba, our beloved first family cat. Johnny Cash, a little black cat ( get it.. man in black) that was sweet as can be but had a little problem with the liter box and would pee where ever and when ever ( which I heard the actual Johnny Cash did as well). He didn't last long, I can safely say he did NOT walk the line. I can take a lot of animal behavior, but don't pee on my couch, I don't care how many Grammy Awards you have.
Cats are funny - they always have to be somewhere really, really fast, that is when they are not laying in the sun like it's African Lion Safari. You are never scared at night when you have cats. When you mysteriously hear the piano, you are secure in the fact that it's the cats walking across the keys and not some scary ghost. One night I heard this repetition of thump thump thump thump thump and then a scramble up the stairs. This went on for a while. I couldn't resist. I had to investigate (again, if I didn't have cats I would have been horrified) Well what I found was one cat, Leo on the top of the basement stairs, the other one, Willie, at the bottom and a little bouncy ball bouncing down the steps thump thump thump... and then, they would switch spots!! I couldn't believe- they had quite the sophisticated operation going on. When I turned on the lights they both stopped dead, and froze. They looked like a picture on the cover of the National Inquirer- caught in the act!!!
I can't image my life with a pet, as my kids move out and start their own families (human and animal) I am glad to have the companionship of a loyal, slobbery old friend by my side...and my dog ( insert rim shot). This fall, I expect my next grandchild ( a granddaughter! YAY!!!) and I am sure I will have soooo much to blog about, so many new experiences as Gaga. I really wanted to get one in about my little four legged babies! I am also glad to report no animal was harmed and nothing was destroyed during the writing of this blog. Finn is just sitting there, staring at me with those eyes...adoring me as much as I adore him...must be Puppy Love...just sayin'
A pound of cooked bacon
Two small steaks
A container of Nestles' Quik ( 95% sugar, not chocolate, I checked)
A pair of my daughter's pricey hospital work shoes
One and half travel mugs
A wooden spoon
1/2 carton of Italian seasoned bread crumbs (carton included)
Most of a puzzle
Two sticks of butter
Numerous flip flops
The octopus part of a Dr. Octopus action figure
A box of toothpicks
Various sections of the Buffalo News
A sippy cup or two
Numerous plastic containers
A plate of leftover wagon wheel pasta
Possibly an E Cigarette (it's missing, and I do have a very suspicious looking cat I've been questioning)...
I can't tell you how I panic when I can't located my phone, my glasses or one of the other pets. But I can tell you how much I LOVE this dog! He is truly a knucklehead, but I defend him like a bad parent that makes excuses for their unruly teenager. " I put the dish in the sink and not the dishwasher, so it's really my fault he got to it" Most of my conversations are peppered with Tourette like out bursts of "Get down Finn" or "knock it off Finn". But this extra large, 7 month old, 40 or 50 pound puppy has my heart and some of my shoes.
I may have mentioned, in a previous blog, that he escaped a couple months ago while on a walk. He was found 22 hours later. They were 22 of the most heartbreaking hours too. I felt guilty that I did something wrong, I was petrified that he was petrified being somewhere strange. In fact, he was found in a garage ...petrified. I was actually surprised at my reaction. I have lost pets before ( one just a few months previous), This was different, he was lost- lost. I didn't know where he was and the uncertainty of it and loss of control just sucker punched me in the gut. Now the events of the last couple years have been anything but smooth sailing, and maybe this was just the last straw, but I cried like a baby over this dog. Even his arch enemy/partner in crime, Louie the miracle dog missed him! He was moping around the house until we found him....then immediately back to hating him!
Not to say there were not some bright moments, even some we found humorous (surprise surprise) in this ordeal. Just the fact that we were driving (on an anonymous tip) 20 plus miles away looking for him while he was snuggled in a garage a half a block away. Also that the first person we stopped and asked if they "had seen a dog" was blind., yep blind. "have you seen a dog....ever?" We stopped sketchiest looking people, people I wouldn't have asked for help if I was on fire. "Have you seen my lost puppy, Mr. Drug Dealer." EVERY person had a story to tell us about their dog too... everyone was Dr. Fucking Doolittle ....my dog this and my dog that. This isn't a freaking episode of Too Cute on Animal Planet- have you seen my dog or not, asshole?
Kidding aside, the people that rallied around to help find my Finn was overwhelming. Social media and face to face human contact with SPCAs and Animal Control were ready, willing and able to help ..which they did! So my big, blobby face, floppy eared monster dog is here at my feet as I blog today. I am so lucky and appreciative of every moment he is here. ( maybe not the shoe chewing part....but it's not his fault....he's just a puppy)
Now in our 30 plus years of marriage, we have had a menagerie of animals of all shapes and sizes starting with Toots. Toots was a the giant parrot ( a nanday conure to be exact.) We couldn't have pets in our first apartment and I have always wanted a house full of animals. You see, my mom was sort of anti-animal. We did not have pets growing up (not counting the scores of goldfish, a few of which were suicidal which were found outside of the bowl and of course, Tommy the turtle that RAN away, really, ran?)
We used to spend our childhood summers in a beautiful cottage in Canada. One day my dad brought home two kittens, Blackie and Sylvester. Now I choose to use Blackie when we play the Porn Name Game and the fact that I was born on Busti Avenue, well, yeah I usually win! Best porn name, with maybe the exception of my husband's: Toots Mt. Vernon. yeeesssss! So yeah, Toots was his first pet experience. So when I suggested a bird, he came home with this loud, but gorgeous, but loud, caw-ing Jurassic Park-ish creature. He lasted not even a year. I got pregnant and I think my husband feared I would bang on the crib with a rolled up newspaper when our baby made noise, so he got rid of Toots. I am not sure who or where but he gave him to a friend who may or may not have lived in the Rain Forest. We had 3 birds total in our pet owning career, Toots, Larry Bird and Snapple. Snapple 's official cause of death: licked to death by our cat, Willie. Larry Bird also died under mysterious circumstances after we failed to bring him to the St. Francis pet blessing at our church. Coincidence...I think not. We also had our share of rodents too, MC Hamster, Cosmo the Guinea Pig. After the Larry Bird incident, we decided to take all our pets to be blessed. We would show up with two dogs, two cats and shoe box of hamsters. We would come up to the priest with a shaking Nike box, the lid a-rumbling and he would thumb though the Bible looking for the section on exorcism. One time we had a guinea pig in a little Igloo cooler, the kind people use when they are harvesting organs. We dreamt this elaborate scenario where there was a case of the mistaken cooler, you know, the old pick up the wrong brief case bit. There in the O.R.- a much surprised doctor, expecting a throbbing organ, is handed a screeching ball of fur. You think of a lot of things when you are managing three kids and six pets. I always hoped, as I waited in line, that I would be blessed as well. I think when you own pets, you kind of already are.
The priest would run by us and splash the whole lot of us with holy water. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it didn't. Enter Johnny Cash ( a didn't) . Johnny Cash was a Mother's Day present after losing Simba, our beloved first family cat. Johnny Cash, a little black cat ( get it.. man in black) that was sweet as can be but had a little problem with the liter box and would pee where ever and when ever ( which I heard the actual Johnny Cash did as well). He didn't last long, I can safely say he did NOT walk the line. I can take a lot of animal behavior, but don't pee on my couch, I don't care how many Grammy Awards you have.
Cats are funny - they always have to be somewhere really, really fast, that is when they are not laying in the sun like it's African Lion Safari. You are never scared at night when you have cats. When you mysteriously hear the piano, you are secure in the fact that it's the cats walking across the keys and not some scary ghost. One night I heard this repetition of thump thump thump thump thump and then a scramble up the stairs. This went on for a while. I couldn't resist. I had to investigate (again, if I didn't have cats I would have been horrified) Well what I found was one cat, Leo on the top of the basement stairs, the other one, Willie, at the bottom and a little bouncy ball bouncing down the steps thump thump thump... and then, they would switch spots!! I couldn't believe- they had quite the sophisticated operation going on. When I turned on the lights they both stopped dead, and froze. They looked like a picture on the cover of the National Inquirer- caught in the act!!!
I can't image my life with a pet, as my kids move out and start their own families (human and animal) I am glad to have the companionship of a loyal, slobbery old friend by my side...and my dog ( insert rim shot). This fall, I expect my next grandchild ( a granddaughter! YAY!!!) and I am sure I will have soooo much to blog about, so many new experiences as Gaga. I really wanted to get one in about my little four legged babies! I am also glad to report no animal was harmed and nothing was destroyed during the writing of this blog. Finn is just sitting there, staring at me with those eyes...adoring me as much as I adore him...must be Puppy Love...just sayin'
Friday, April 18, 2014
i am a righter
Even though I haven't earned any money from this blog....yet...I still consider myself a writer. I have always loved to write...stories, poems, skits, parodies, shopping lists, greeting cards. I guess people attach the element of making money as to what you can call yourself. True, I haven't profited monetarily from these random thoughts of mine, but I feel I am considered at least, a blogger. Come to think of it, I raised three children who became three successful adults, I am considered a mother even though I never earned a fucking cent. I went to college to learn to write-motherhood you learn as you go and you never ever graduate apparently.
Maybe I am not a professional writer, but believe me I have seen a lot of professional "you name its" lately that were anything but professional. So I will gladly dub myself a writer, professional or otherwise. My degree is in journalism and when I snuck a peek at my old school records, my third grade teacher commented that I was a "very good little writer"( I don't know how my size figured in to that.)
I loved writing all though school. In junior high, I had a great but scary English teacher who literally taught me everything I know about grammar and writing. He was a love him or hate him kind of teacher that I loved and am still in contact with. Gotta love Facebook. Whenever I do converse with him, I actually sweat over every word and punctuation mark I use before I hit the send button. He did correct my misuse of a semi colon all the way from Arizona. In my high school drama class- taught by another favorite teacher of mine, we worked on the existential French play No Exit by Satre. It was about three souls in Hell..."Hell is other people" and all that jazz. It was a project for a grade and could only be so long so I rewrote it. Yep re-wrote Satre! Sorry Jean -Paul or should I say Je suis desole- I am just a 17 year old high school senior-but I got this! The arrogance of youth.
Maybe that is, maybe part of it is being a little arrogant- I have something to say, I can say it best and now you will read it.
Maybe it comes from being a middle child -raised in a children are to be seen and not heard era. Or could it be maybe it is just therapeutic- ding ding ding!
I had this realization just this past weekend. My new puppy took off on me while we were on a walk on a long over due sunny day. Everyone was out and about, so off we went. Out of no where something spooked him and he squeezed out of his newly tightened collar (I recently made it tighter since he did the same thing on the way to the vet to be neutered.....hmmmm?) Anyway, in my devastation, I wrote a post on all the social media lost pet sites, again, gotta love Facebook. I wrote, re-wrote, edited and re-edited this stupid "lost dog" blurb and realized, God I'm a writer- which is( if you notice) the title of this blog...well, .kind of!
I, along with the other grammar fanatics in the world are witnessing the end of the English language and the lost art of the written word....it is like Grammargeddon if you will! The way people write these days is absolutely cringe-worthy. My God, spell check people!!! I spell check my name for goodness sakes. Yes, I know a couple of time, things have slipped by me- I believe I wrote the word scholarshop in an email and yes, I stress over it still. I am sure mistakes have been found in my blog and I have been called out on the over use of my beloved periods of ellipsis, (and to them I say ......F dot dot dot.U) We are human and we goof up here and there, but step up people!
It is all over too! My daughter noticed on the Mighty Taco sign, there was the incorrect use of the word you're. We were so disappointed in them - they are usually so clever and right on with their advertising . Don't be all cutesy about fish tacos and then say YOUR hooked. A hundred or two more mistakes like that and we may take our business elsewhere. It is very distressing to see people write your the best or your an asshole- Note...if you are going to insult someone, it loses it punch if it is grammatically incorrect. Could this laziness come from, dare I say, technology? I'm not talking about the sometimes annoying and often hilarious auto correct. ( An invitation to a POOP party is way different than an invitation to a POOL party.) People are using numbers instead of words- convenient ? SURE, acceptable? in a text- MAYBE - in a formal piece of writing?-HELLS NO!!! Gotta Hate Facebook Their, I mean They're I mean There. I said it!!!!
When I worked in the elementary school, we stressed the proper usage of there their they're/ your you're/to too two/who's whose and so on. But these little guys weren't spoiled yet by the social media lingo- or at least I hope they weren't at that age. Now in high school, I look at scholarship applications and essays and I am amazed at what passes for acceptable. Acceptable in the student's eyes- certainly not mine. Lower case i ???- Seriously? How do you even think that's okay? You can't even type it with out the computer correcting it for you most of the time. Misspellings, little or no punctuation which usually means one loooong ruuuun oooon sentence. It makes me crazy- I recently apologized to my hands for having to re type a student's paper-AS IS .
Now not everybody is a writer- I get that. My own kids struggled with that part of school. It was not their forte- but whenever they wrote, it was grammatically correct- I guarantee you that! It is hard to read some one's work and know you can help make it better, but really ethically you can't.
Speaking of ethics- in middle school, my youngest was having a hell of a time with an teacher who kept handing back her writing COVERED in red marks- mostly criticizing her word choice and how it would sound better worded like this etc. Now we all know a 13 year old "voice" is not the same as an adults' It rarely is phrased in the way an adult would put things, but if the content is there and the grammar is correct, then let's call it a B or a C and move on. Paper after paper would come back just cruelly torn apart "say it this way" " use this phrase instead"- the poor kid totally shut down. She called herself a horrible writer ( which she really wasn't- the best of my three) The sad part is that she used to like to write. I know some teachers are tougher on those with some talent, but instead of being encouraging, the constant criticism did just the opposite. So step in Buff State's favorite journalism major of 1982- I will write her next assignment and show that red pen wielding hack a thing or two. So we sat down together in order to make sure it was her ideas and her words and I will put a writer's spin on it- C'mon I have had a blurb or two published in the Buffalo News- I mean I did write for the college newspaper- so let's do this -aaaaand D I got a fucking D!!!. That's when I told my daughter the truth- like any good parent would That teacher must not like you.- because that was a damn good report! D as in Damn good I guess.
Now I don't suggest parents do their kid's assignments-obviously, look how well that worked our for us, but I would encourage good common sense. Like don't misspell words on your resume. I can't tell you how many times while interviewing for positions from teachers to cafeteria staff that I had my mind made up because of mistakes on their applications. Seriously! Also watch the words you choose. An applicant, who was once employed at a deli. wrote that her jobs including waiting on the customers, cleaning the food cases and cutting the cheese.... WHAT ??? you can get paid for that???
Now I hope that people won't be scouring my blogs-past, present and future for errors- I don't mean to sound like a snob, I believe in raising the bar, yet you can also limbo under it in some circumstances. If you are shooting a quick text or email and it is all lower case - no biggie (because all caps looks like shouting) If you are writing something that counts....make it count! Please take my advice because there out their with they're all to quick too judge attitudes and our ready two point out you're misteaks...your welcome.....just sayin'
Maybe I am not a professional writer, but believe me I have seen a lot of professional "you name its" lately that were anything but professional. So I will gladly dub myself a writer, professional or otherwise. My degree is in journalism and when I snuck a peek at my old school records, my third grade teacher commented that I was a "very good little writer"( I don't know how my size figured in to that.)
I loved writing all though school. In junior high, I had a great but scary English teacher who literally taught me everything I know about grammar and writing. He was a love him or hate him kind of teacher that I loved and am still in contact with. Gotta love Facebook. Whenever I do converse with him, I actually sweat over every word and punctuation mark I use before I hit the send button. He did correct my misuse of a semi colon all the way from Arizona. In my high school drama class- taught by another favorite teacher of mine, we worked on the existential French play No Exit by Satre. It was about three souls in Hell..."Hell is other people" and all that jazz. It was a project for a grade and could only be so long so I rewrote it. Yep re-wrote Satre! Sorry Jean -Paul or should I say Je suis desole- I am just a 17 year old high school senior-but I got this! The arrogance of youth.
Maybe that is, maybe part of it is being a little arrogant- I have something to say, I can say it best and now you will read it.
Maybe it comes from being a middle child -raised in a children are to be seen and not heard era. Or could it be maybe it is just therapeutic- ding ding ding!
I had this realization just this past weekend. My new puppy took off on me while we were on a walk on a long over due sunny day. Everyone was out and about, so off we went. Out of no where something spooked him and he squeezed out of his newly tightened collar (I recently made it tighter since he did the same thing on the way to the vet to be neutered.....hmmmm?) Anyway, in my devastation, I wrote a post on all the social media lost pet sites, again, gotta love Facebook. I wrote, re-wrote, edited and re-edited this stupid "lost dog" blurb and realized, God I'm a writer- which is( if you notice) the title of this blog...well, .kind of!
I, along with the other grammar fanatics in the world are witnessing the end of the English language and the lost art of the written word....it is like Grammargeddon if you will! The way people write these days is absolutely cringe-worthy. My God, spell check people!!! I spell check my name for goodness sakes. Yes, I know a couple of time, things have slipped by me- I believe I wrote the word scholarshop in an email and yes, I stress over it still. I am sure mistakes have been found in my blog and I have been called out on the over use of my beloved periods of ellipsis, (and to them I say ......F dot dot dot.U) We are human and we goof up here and there, but step up people!
It is all over too! My daughter noticed on the Mighty Taco sign, there was the incorrect use of the word you're. We were so disappointed in them - they are usually so clever and right on with their advertising . Don't be all cutesy about fish tacos and then say YOUR hooked. A hundred or two more mistakes like that and we may take our business elsewhere. It is very distressing to see people write your the best or your an asshole- Note...if you are going to insult someone, it loses it punch if it is grammatically incorrect. Could this laziness come from, dare I say, technology? I'm not talking about the sometimes annoying and often hilarious auto correct. ( An invitation to a POOP party is way different than an invitation to a POOL party.) People are using numbers instead of words- convenient ? SURE, acceptable? in a text- MAYBE - in a formal piece of writing?-HELLS NO!!! Gotta Hate Facebook Their, I mean They're I mean There. I said it!!!!
When I worked in the elementary school, we stressed the proper usage of there their they're/ your you're/to too two/who's whose and so on. But these little guys weren't spoiled yet by the social media lingo- or at least I hope they weren't at that age. Now in high school, I look at scholarship applications and essays and I am amazed at what passes for acceptable. Acceptable in the student's eyes- certainly not mine. Lower case i ???- Seriously? How do you even think that's okay? You can't even type it with out the computer correcting it for you most of the time. Misspellings, little or no punctuation which usually means one loooong ruuuun oooon sentence. It makes me crazy- I recently apologized to my hands for having to re type a student's paper-AS IS .
Now not everybody is a writer- I get that. My own kids struggled with that part of school. It was not their forte- but whenever they wrote, it was grammatically correct- I guarantee you that! It is hard to read some one's work and know you can help make it better, but really ethically you can't.
Speaking of ethics- in middle school, my youngest was having a hell of a time with an teacher who kept handing back her writing COVERED in red marks- mostly criticizing her word choice and how it would sound better worded like this etc. Now we all know a 13 year old "voice" is not the same as an adults' It rarely is phrased in the way an adult would put things, but if the content is there and the grammar is correct, then let's call it a B or a C and move on. Paper after paper would come back just cruelly torn apart "say it this way" " use this phrase instead"- the poor kid totally shut down. She called herself a horrible writer ( which she really wasn't- the best of my three) The sad part is that she used to like to write. I know some teachers are tougher on those with some talent, but instead of being encouraging, the constant criticism did just the opposite. So step in Buff State's favorite journalism major of 1982- I will write her next assignment and show that red pen wielding hack a thing or two. So we sat down together in order to make sure it was her ideas and her words and I will put a writer's spin on it- C'mon I have had a blurb or two published in the Buffalo News- I mean I did write for the college newspaper- so let's do this -aaaaand D I got a fucking D!!!. That's when I told my daughter the truth- like any good parent would That teacher must not like you.- because that was a damn good report! D as in Damn good I guess.
Now I don't suggest parents do their kid's assignments-obviously, look how well that worked our for us, but I would encourage good common sense. Like don't misspell words on your resume. I can't tell you how many times while interviewing for positions from teachers to cafeteria staff that I had my mind made up because of mistakes on their applications. Seriously! Also watch the words you choose. An applicant, who was once employed at a deli. wrote that her jobs including waiting on the customers, cleaning the food cases and cutting the cheese.... WHAT ??? you can get paid for that???
Now I hope that people won't be scouring my blogs-past, present and future for errors- I don't mean to sound like a snob, I believe in raising the bar, yet you can also limbo under it in some circumstances. If you are shooting a quick text or email and it is all lower case - no biggie (because all caps looks like shouting) If you are writing something that counts....make it count! Please take my advice because there out their with they're all to quick too judge attitudes and our ready two point out you're misteaks...your welcome.....just sayin'
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