A Maze of Loose Ends

too soon

2011-08-30T21:54:00.001-04:00

I found out today that a friend of mine took his life. Finding out that a loved one has died is shocking. Finding out a loved one CHOSE to do so...words can't even find a way out.

For some reason there is shame and weakness in being depressed. Shame in not having a 'stiff upper lip' or not being able to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and carry on. The thing about depression is that every day is a battle. Every day you are pulling yourself up by the bootstraps with a stiff upper lip. And after a while...day in and day out...you start thinking, "I can't keep doing this. I don't want to keep doing this." And then finally it's, "I'm done."

My mother use to say, "Buck Up!" And there's the rub...there is only so many times one can 'buck up'. God, I use to hate it when Mom use to say that. My sister and I joke about it now, but back then it was a sure fire way to make us feel worse.

Depression, I believe, to the general public seems weak. But I am here to say it's not. It takes strength and courage to admit you need help. I know, and love, many people who seek all sorts of help, whether it's 12 step programs, therapy, anti-depressants. Never once do I think they are weak.

I am mad my friend chose to end his life. His Facebook page is full of people reaching out, in pain, to say how much they loved him and how he touched their lives. Maybe I'm selfish. Who am I to say that he shouldn't have ended his life because I will miss him? I don't know. Death always brings such confusing emotions. It always makes me want to hang on dearly and let every person I have ever met know how important they are and to know that if they struggle, they are not alone.

Depression is cunning and baffling and far too dangerous. It's paralyzing with no end in sight. "This too shall pass" does not feel true. It feels like, "This will never pass." Coming from a long line of depression I understand this all too well.

I wish Joe had chosen life. I can only guess that he just got tired of treading water. He battled a long time. It's exhausting and I know when I am stuck treading water I often think..."when do I get to swim?"

I know this - you are not alone, you are loved, and there is help. All you have to do is ask.

Now, I think it's time I go and smother my loved ones and then find something to bake.

Cooking Capers - Session Four

2011-07-27T22:48:00.000-04:00

Just Desserts:

I have a problem and it's called Sugar. I might have mentioned it in a previous post or two...or even updated a Facebook status regarding my obsessive compulsion for sugary items. Some of my weaknesses, Nutella, Ice-Cream, Cupcakes, Cake, Fruit Crisp (a la mode, of course), chocolate chip cookies, brownies (a la mode preferred) and the list can continue. There are rules, however.

1. I don't want candy for dessert...no peanut butter m&m's or Twizzlers or Snickers for dessert. Those aren't evening time treats...those are afternoon, 3:00 pm treats.

2. Fruit doesn't count. I eat a lot of fruit during the day. I eat the fruit during the day to avoid over doing the sugary treats in the afternoon. Or at least that is what I tell myself. I'm sure it's working.

3. The dessert needs some sort of crunch factor. If it doesn't crunch, it doesn't count. I made a peanut butter banana smoothie for dessert the other night. No crunch. I slurped it down only to then eat 4 oreos to satisfy the crunch urge. I think I might have a problem.

The only exception to this rule is cake. Cupcakes or a slice of cake. It doesn't need the crunch, although a few rainbow sprinkles can fill that crunch need if I'm really jonesing.

So, what do I eat? I usually put together a few ingredient type desserts. I don't go overboard. (although I'm sure overboard is a relative term) These aren't recipes per se, or even ingenious ideas, but they will hit the spot.

The Standard:

1/2 cup Vanilla Bean Ice-creamn or Soy Cream
90 Calorie Fiber One Brownie*
2 T wheat germ
1 tsp chocolate syurp

Unwrap 1 brownie, heat in microwave for 10 seconds. Measure out 1/2 cup ice-cream into a small bowl. If you put it in a big bowl it will never be enough! I often exclaim, "NO WAY IS THAT A FREAKIN' SERVING" if I use a big bowl. The small bowl tricks the mind and the stomach. Crumble warm brownie on top. Add wheat germ and chocolate syrup. Enjoy...slowly. A small bowl is still a small bowl.

*I often will substitute the brownie for 1 crumbled Oreo or 1 Ginger Snap or 1 TLC Oatmeal Chocolate Cookie, basically whatever I have on hand. The ginger snap probably has the least amount of calories.

The Treat:

4 Ginger Snaps (Anna's Gingersnaps are best for this dessert. Nice and thin)
2 squares of favorite chocolate (I prefer milk)
1 toaster oven

Place 4 ginger snaps on foil. Top 2 snaps with 1 square of chocolate each. Place in toaster oven and 'toast' until chocolate begins to melt and cookies brown slightly. Remove from toaster oven and top with other snaps, smooshing the chocolate. Let sit for about a minute. Cookie and chocolate should caramelize a bit. Devour. Maybe have husband hide snaps and cookies, because 2nds come ohhh so easily.

The Emotional Eater:

Nutella
Graham Crackers*

This one comes in handy when all you want to do is stuff your feelings. Nutella is an item that must be purchased with caution in my household. It will not last more than 2 days under my watch.

Directions: smear as much Nutella a graham cracker can hold. Stuff it and your troubles down.

*You can substitute any carb you like. I even will frost cupcakes with Nutella.

Cooking Capers - Session Three

2010-12-09T18:56:00.011-05:00

Cooking Dinner While Caring For A Sick Baby:

4 boneless skinless Chicken Breasts

2 shallots, chopped

1 package of button mushrooms, sliced (reduce to a 1/2 of package if mushrooms make your husband gag)

1 clove of garlic, sliced

1 T olive oil

1 cup of plain soy milk (use milk if your husband isn't lactose intolerant)

1/2 cup water

4 T butter or lower fat substitute

1T basil

1 cup dry white wine

Salt and Pepper

1/2 box of angel hair pasta

1 - 6 oz bottle of formula

1 sick, fussy baby, preferably with a fever

1 mL syringe

1 mL of generic tylenol, red in color

Preheat oven to 350

Clean 4 chicken breasts and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Place 2 T of melted butter and sliced garlic in baking pan. Coat chicken breasts in melted butter and arrange in pan. Pour 1/2 cup of wine over chicken and cook for 45 minutes or until done...or in this case, well done.

In saute pan, heat olive oil. Add shallots and mushrooms. Cook for 3 mins or until mushrooms are nicely golden and smell amazing. Remove from pan and set aside.

Grab fussy baby and sit in glider chair with formula. Proceed to fight with crying baby who refuses to eat. Spray formula all over self, baby's face and wall in an effort to get a few drops into babies mouth. Continue this for 30 minutes. Yell out to husband to fill the pasta pot with water and put on stove. Continue to try to soothe screaming child. 2 oz may have been eaten by now. Start to loose sanity, ask husband to take over so that you may finish dinner. Pass crying, thrashing baby to father/husband and take baby's temperature. Go get infant tylenol.

Chicken should be done now. Cover with foil and turn oven off. This should dry the chicken out very nicely. Return to baby's room.

Have husband pin insane child down, easily place syringe in crying mouth and shoot tylenol in. Child will get even more hysterical and start coughing and heaving. Sit her upright. Father/husband working hard to soothe. Child should hiccup and then throw up tylenol and 2 oz of now red formula all over father/husband/saint. Immediately loose appetite. Scoop baby up and usher her to changing table and strip her down, wipe her off and clothe her. Have husband rock until she falls asleep.

Cook pasta according to package directions.

In skillet melt remaining butter, add wine, water, soy milk, basil and any juice from the chicken pan. Bring to a boil and reduce until thicker. Salt and pepper to taste.

Plate pasta, top with chicken breast and mushrooms (to the mushroom lover's plate only) and top with white sauce. Ignore the fact that you have no appetite and 'enjoy'.

Look at husband wearily, wondering what the night has in store.

Cooking Capers - Session Two

2010-11-09T15:37:00.017-05:00

It’s that time of year…baking season. God, I love to bake. Sugar! SUGAR!! When I know I am about to eat some delicious sugary treat, my mouth starts watering and I get all wiggly in my skin. Yes, I have a sugar addiction. It’s powerful, delicious and all consuming. As soon as fall hits, I am ready to turn the oven on.

Growing up we had a tiny little cookbook that I treasured dearly. It was the "Peanuts Cookbook". Perfect recipes for little hands. I loved to bake with my mom and my sister. When we baked, as I remember, there was always a lot of laughter. We cooked that Peanuts Cookbook into the ground. I don’t know what happened to that cookbook. Things changed. Parents divorced, sister moved out, mom and I moved many times. My memories of being 8 years old are held in that book with the stains of melted butter, smudges of chocolate, ripped binding, torn pages. Sometimes I thought if I could get my hands on another copy of that cookbook I could recreate those fond memories I had as a family.

Well, I have my own family now. 6 months ago Kallie blessed our lives. When she was born my husband gave me a present. It was a small book wrapped up. I had no idea what it was. He was beaming from ear to ear as I opened it. It was a tiny cookbook, “Winnie-the-Pooh Cookie Book”. I said, “Oh!!! I love it!” He replied, “Just like the one you had as a kid, right?” Oh dear. “No, honey, it’s not.” Sadly he said, “I got the wrong book.”

NO! You got the right book. The perfect book. A new book for new memories for Kallie and I. I am sad to admit I haven’t made a single thing from that book. But, it’s fall and the holiday’s are upon us. I believe that as I bake the first recipe, Kallie will be in her highchair playing with god knows what smiling at me and ”Gaaa”-ing at me.

But, just for old time sake, my favorite recipe from the Peanuts Cookbook was “Lucy’s Lemon Squares”. Oh, the lemony filling, the buttery crust, the powdered sugar!! BRING IT ON!

It was Sunday morning, just mom and me. She was reading the Sunday paper drinking coffee and I was reading the comic strips. She asked if I would get her some more coffee. I went into the kitchen and saw those lemon squares winking at me. I, as quite as a mouse, cut a huge square and shoved it in my mouth ate it as fast as I could while I poured her coffee. I returned to the living room and gave mom her coffee. She looked at me and said, “Did you have any Lucy’s Lemon Squares?” “Nope.” “Then why do you have powdered sugar all over your face?”

Gotta be smarter than the sugar.

LUCY'S LEMON SQUARES quoted from "Peanuts Cook Book" (with comments by Heather)

1 cup flour

1/2 cup butter (cold butter makes this job suck. so room temperature is the way)

1/4 cup powdered sugar

Sift flour and sugar into bowl. Blend in butter with clean fingertips until well mixed. (do not clean fingertips with mouth. you will get a good swat for that.) Pat evenly into the bottom of an 8x8 inch baking pan. ( EVENLY! DO IT EVENLY! Bake for 20 minutes at 350. (20 minutes is FOREVER...but at least it smells good)

Meanwhile, beat together:

2 eggs (refrain from leaving egg shells in batter. Crunchy squares are bad squares)

1 cup granulated sugar

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

2 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (or if you are like me and like a good pucker...add as much as you can take)

dash of salt

Pour over baked crust and return to oven for 20 - 25 minutes at same temperature. (seriously, ANOTHER 20 minutes!?!)

Cool on rack. Cut in squares. (big squares, please) Sprinkle with sifted, powdered sugar.

(Warning, choking hazard. Do not inhale as you bite square. Powdered sugar will choke you!)

Cooking Capers - Session One

2010-11-06T21:26:00.011-04:00

Butternut Squash Soup

Part I

2 whole butternut squash
1 Santoku Knife
1 Chef Knife
1 Utility Knife
1 Parer Knife
1 potato peeler (although it might end up in garbage)
1 pair of ear muffs so small child doesn't hear swearing
2 strong biceps
2 steady hands
Many prayers that you finish with all fingers and toes attached

Peeling of Squash. Cut bulbous end off, set aside. Stand long end up on cut side and use Santoku Knife and shimmy it down the sides of the squash, removing skin. Slip several times almost snipping off index finger. Try the Chef Knife. Work your way along the sides of the squash, working up a sweat. Slip several more times, swear under breath and toss knife aside. Reach for the Utility Knife. Maybe a small blade will be easier to manage. Try to cut into steel of skin and give up immediately. Grab potato peeler and peel of first layer of steel squash skin. Realize that if you want to have soup TONIGHT...this is not the way to go. By now, the strong biceps are feeling the burn. Go back to the Chef Knife and continue to peel, to the best of your ability not to cut off all 10 of your fingers, until the shaft is clear of skin.

Take bulbous end, take a deep breath in and proceed to cut in half. Scoop out seeds and then, yes, begin peeling that mother of a vegetable. Hands are now slippery from raw squash. Knife slips from hands, tumbles to the ground just missing toes. Cats scramble for cover.

Start on 2nd squash. Repeat. Slip many times. Cover babies ears with earmuffs and scream "MOTHER FUCKER!" Throw knives as they continue to fail you and the job they have been asked to do, and storm out of the kitchen accepting defeat. Go on facebook. Surf for 10 minutes. Stop sweating. Brush hair out of eyes and go back into the lion's den.

Approach tormentor with a new calmness and finish peeling the shaft. Pick up bulbous end. Evaluate how much flesh is really available. Is it worth it? Show him who's boss and throw it in garbage.

Cut freshly peeled squash into cubes.

PART II

1.75 squash, cubed
1 large onion, sliced into rings
4 cloves garlic
2 cups plain soy milk
1 cup vegetable broth
1 T olive oil
All Spice
Cinnamon
Pepper
1/4 t Cayenne pepper
Chopped walnuts, roasted

Oven: 450 degrees

Line cookie sheet with foil. Spray with canola oil. Spread squash, onion and garlic in pan. Drizzle olive oil and add All Spice, Cinnamon and Pepper over squash. I have no idea how much. I just eye ball it. Roast for 30 to 40 minutes until squash is tender. Transfer squash and onion/garlic to large pot. Add 1 cup soy milk. Using immersion blender try to liquefy only to realize squash is too tough for immersion blender and switch to food processor. Scoop small amount of squash mixture into food processor only to realize that it's TOO FREAKIN' SMALL. Use profanity at will. Switch to the blender. Working in batches, puree squash mixture until smooth and add to large pot. Keep as much off the kitchen walls as possible.

Once all pureed, add rest of soy milk and vegetable broth to pot. Add more or less liquid depending on consistancy you are looking for. Add a smidge more of all spice and cinnamon to taste. For a bit of a kick add cayenne pepper. Heat until hot, stirring on occasion.

Serve with walnuts sprinkled on top and chewy bread.

Let husband know that no one was hurt in the making of this soup, but it was a close call on many occasion. Give him the evil eye until he compliments and kisses the cook.

Enjoy...if your hand isn't cramping up too bad and you can hold a soup spoon.

Husband then does dishes and picks squash out of your hair.

Unplugged

2010-07-27T08:52:00.003-04:00

I'm plugged in all day. To the laptop, my 'smart' phone, my desktop, my TV...yet, often I feel as if I am coming unplugged. I am noticing that I can't stay off facebook. I probably log in 30 times a day to see how other people are living there lives. Something is wrong with this picture.

I guess in my defense I am home. A lot. I am on maternity leave and am watching my daughter grow in front of my eyes. But...as soon as she nods off...I have my laptop in my lap (not just a clever name) and am glued into other peoples lives.

Another habit of mine is online 'window' shopping. I got to a website, look for deals, put things in my cart, feel guilty about it and close the page. I do this at least once a day. It's mindless. One might call it crazy.

The TV is usually always on. Matt Lauer, Kathy Lee Gifford, Hoda Kotb, Bethany Getting Marreid, Real Housewives of New York (NJ Housewives drive me NUTS), Next Food Network Star, White Collar (yum), Top Chef (yum), Martha Stewart, Friends, Seinfeld, Office, Yankees, What Not to Wear, Paula Dean, Giada at Home (I wish my home was that nice!), Barefoot Contessa...I think I see all these people and shows every day. They are usually just background noise, but they are on. I fear I might be going numb.

So, today...I am trying to do things a bit different. I want to stay a bit more unplugged. (of course, the irony, I am on my laptop...) I got up at 5:50 am, fed Kallie and put her back to bed. I did NOT turn on my phone or facebook before I went for a run. It felt weird. I got home from my run and did NOT turn on my phone. I showered and ate breakfast. I will admit, I wanted to turn that bad boy on, but I refrained. I didn't pick up the phone or laptop until 8:45 am. A NEW RECORD! And another first, as I type this...the TV is NOT on. Kallie is still asleep and all I hear are the birds chirping outside, the dogs barking and their owners yelling, the traffic going by and the click of my keyboard as I type. There just went an airplane...a car honked...ok you get it...

I am realizing that by being plugged in so darn much that I am getting farther and farther from myself. I zone out...go numb...feel down. I like it 'quiet', as quiet as our New York City apartment can get. But, in all honesty, out of the corner of my eye there is the remote. It's whispering to me..."Heeeeatherrrrrr...Heeaaaaaatherrrrrrrrrrrr...you are missing Matt Lauer and Meredith..."

My fingers itch. My eyes dart back and forth between the remote, the TV and the laptop. It's an addiction. I can feel it. But, baby steps. I know that I will visit at least one of my TV friends listed above today. I have already been on Facebook. Status updated - check. Scrolled through to see what my friends are up to this morning - check. Viewed a few pictures - check. I wonder how long I can last without viewing it again? I would like to say, until dinner, but who are we kidding. Let's not set an unrealistic goal and set myself up for failure. I'm going to aim for lunch time...I think I will be hungry early today. Say...eleven o'clock?!?

short trip

2010-07-22T21:02:00.003-04:00

The trip to bitchiness is a short ride these days.

I have never been one for patience. I live in New York. I am fond of the New York Minute. I curse under my breath at tourists who are gawking upward when I am trying to get somewhere in my New York Minute.

But, now I am a new mother...a 3 month old mother. What pleases me most is that I have all the patience in the world for my daughter. But my patience supply is spread a little thin. I found myself yelling at my key chain today when it got tangled up in my headphones and I couldn't get into my apartment. I was standing outside my apartment yelling, "REALLY?!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?" By the time I got it untangled, I was pretty much in tears. I must have looked like a crazy woman.

I find myself snapping, usually at the husband, in less than a nano-second. I am irritated quickly by people on the street...smokers, gawkers, people who don't hold doors open for mothers struggling with strollers, cars and trucks that block crosswalks so mothers with babes can't easily cross the street WHEN THERE IS A WALK SIGN!!!" The list goes on and I think you get my drift.

Sleep deprivation. Bottom line. Even when I do sleep I seem to still have one ear cocked towards the nursery. I know many a mother have been here before, and many will follow. My story, emotions and bitchiness are not unique. When I walk down the street and I pass another mother with an infant, we smile at each other...as if to say, "I feel ya sister. I know. You are not alone in this journey."

So, the next time you are out and about and you see a mom, please be kind. Open a door, give up a seat, smile at them. Who knows, they may have just had a nervous breakdown in the kitchen because they couldn't get the jar of peanut butter open. Not that I would know...

Motivation

2010-07-17T08:40:00.005-04:00

I am the type of person who gets super motivated...and then does nothing.

I speak, at this moment, of fitness.

I like to see inspiring stories and feel the feeling of inspiration and think, "Wow...I want to feel good about myself. I want to feel that euphoric high after a work out. I want to be passionate about taking great care of myself...tomorrow" Well, as many a great procrastinator knows...tomorrow never comes.

I'm not sure where this comes from. I was always highly active as a kid and through my 20's. I was a competitive swimmer, cheerleader, dancer...and then couch potato. Currently, I love watching others work out and think, "I'm going to do something about this tomorrow." Turn on "The Biggest Loser" and you have revved my engines. As I sit on the couch, eating my icecream, I think, "I want to do a triathlon!"

Well, I have been reminded lately that time is precious and there are no guarantees in this life. I have a new baby...12 weeks old, to be exactly. I do wish to set a great example. I have always had a messed up view of my body, for zero reason. I don't want to pass that on to her. But my biggest motivation now is my uncle. Uncle Fred became a runner in his 30's. I have always known him to live, eat and breath running. He loves it. It is his therapy. It is is joy. It is his passion. He is my very own marathon man.

2 years ago he was diagnosed with ALS, Lou Gehrig's disease. He is unable to run any more. He still walks every day. He lives each day passionately and fully. He doesn't feel sorry for himself. This Vietnam Vet said to me, "I can't complain. I've had a very full life." In my eyes, spoken like a true hero.

So, this morning, after the 5:45 am feeding, I strapped on my running shoes and a token that reminds me of Uncle Fred, and hit the streets. It wasn't pretty...but who the hell cares. It was the first step and I didn't wait until tomorrow to do it.

Iron Woman and the Rookie

2010-07-14T09:44:00.005-04:00

I gave birth to Iron Woman. Little did I know that I was going to be the mother of a superhero...a superhero against changing diapers and blocking the boob and the bottle.

My little 11 pound baby's legs has the strength of a vice grip. Her little arms can withstand the pull of her mother and father as we try to feed her. What is with the chop block kid? You are screaming that your belly is empty. Do you realize that you are keeping yourself from eating?

I would like to blame Pampers for their defective leaky diapers, but I am pretty sure it's my inability to dress the baby properly as she clamps her legs together and wiggles like she has ants in her pants...all the while giggling and throwing me that crooked smile.

This little bundle of love is one strong bambino. Who knew 11 lbs could wreak havoc on two big adult parents who are trying to clean bum and feeding her belly? Not I. Clearly a rookie mistake.

Pondering

2009-08-19T22:19:00.001-04:00

Dear God, it's me Heather,

when did my thighs start touching?

This Blog is brought to you by the letter "B"

2009-07-08T22:01:00.002-04:00

Walking around outside on my lunch today in Tribeca. Loads of construction going on and getting frustrated. I was tripping over ramps and rocks, plugging my ears against jack hammers, getting seriously cranky. As I was looking down trying to avoid breaking my neck I saw a painted sign that a construction worker had painted on the sidewalk.

Well

My second B sighting was tonight on my way home. I was walking with some friends across 47th Street after dinner and I look up at an apartment window. A tiny heart was hanging in the window.

Be Happy

Can't ignore those signs...

Clear and Present

2009-06-30T22:21:00.006-04:00

It's truly amazing to be truly be in the moment with each walking step, with each breath. It's also amazing how quickly I forget to be in the moment and worry about the endless chatter in my head.

This morning on my way to work I saw a tiny little bird on the sidewalk. This tiny creature was gathering twigs to build a nest. When it had what it thought it could handle, which appeared to be too much, it fluttered it's little wings and took flight, straight up, like a helicopter. As I watched this amazing feat, Little Bird flew up 6 stories to build it's nest underneath a window air-conditioner of an apartment building. It met it's mate, made the drop, and flew back down to gather what he (or she) left behind. Amazement and joy followed me to work today.

This evening, at 5 pm, I scooted out the office door so I could run to a dance class at Alvin Ailey. I was nervous. I haven't taken a dance class in about 3 years. I haven't studied at Ailey. I didn't know what to expect. All I knew was that my nervous energy was propelling me forward towards class at a very rapid pace. As I raced out of my building I looked up and the sky was changing rapidly. A storm was brewing, and I was probably going to get caught. The clouds went from grey to black in a menacing second! And within a blink the skies opened up and Mother Nature was having the time of her life. Everyone started running. As I was cursing the rain...again...I caught out of the corner of my eye 2 children.

Children love the rain...these two beauties were screaming and laughing and jumping in every puddle possible. I was jealous. I stopped, took a deep breath, checked my watch to see how much time I had. Plenty! I was amazed at how quickly I found little Heather. I rolled my pants up...popped open my umbrella...and began my delightful wet journey. It was delicious! I had a blast.

This sweet horse had no choice but to wait it out. His purple bucket full of food kept trying to float away.

I love this sign. Never have I seen such cute and polite "curb your dog" signs.

Today is one for the books.

Miss Piggy

2009-06-27T21:42:00.004-04:00

What the hell happens to me when I leave NYC and travel to visit my family in New Jersey? I become a glutton. I try to bring some of my healthy habits with me when I arrive in NJ...but I walk into my sister-in-law's house and all of it is gone.

This weekend is a perfect example - my gluttony list, in order of consumption:

Brownie

Cheetos (in my defense, they were baked)

Potato Salad

Brownie

Oreos

Cheetos

Coke (it was caffeine free!)

Hotdog

Hamburger

Potato Salad

Confetti Cake

Cookies and Cream Ice cream

Confetti Cake

Cookies and Cream Ice cream

Confetti Cake (a tiny sliver to wash down the ice cream)

Christ on a Bike.

Cutlets

2009-06-26T20:58:00.004-04:00

I'm not sure what is going on lately. I seem to be walking towards many women these days who are bra-less. These women are not young hipsters. They are well over 60 and very well endowed. I'm sure at one time, back in their 'hay day', they had a beautiful bosom. But now...

Ok, I should back track a bit. I'm a boob girl. I can't help looking at other women's cutlets. I think I became that way because, well, I am very petite in that department. One might say - self-conscious. One could conclude - jealous. There is a reason. 8th grade. I was one of those girls who would not sprout. When the entire gym class were in training bras, I was in, well, nothing. No...this is not my big scarring moment that made what I am today. Other girls, let's call them bitches, during lunch would circle around me and sing to me. Ah, the sweet serenade that they heard on TV during commercial breaks. Band-Aids. Remember that song? "I am stuck on band-aids, cause band-aids stuck on me!"

This became my theme song. Guys would pass me in the hall humming it. Tragic, scarring. It followed me everywhere. A guy I dated, ok, my EX-fiance, gave me a sweet pet name, "Little Hooters". He even tried to convince me to get a boob job. Ah, he was a keeper...a keeper of the compost pile!

So...this is my obsession with boobs. I notice them. I envy them.

Hugenormous (a word my 6 year old nephew uses) boobs seem to be popping up in front of me a lot these days. The boobs are seriously sagging past their waist. Is it too much to ask for them to hoist them up? Do I have to see the watermelons banging up against each other underneath shirts? Why can't I look away? I am a deer caught in headlights. I just stare, wondering, doesn't that hurt? Doesn't it hurt when they knock up against your knees?

Maybe I should be a bit more forgiving. Maybe after so many years of strapping those baby's down you just loose patience and you let it all hang out. I just wish I didn't have to witness it. It's like witnessing 2 greasy pigs trapped under a tarp trying to squirm their way out...

So...if I had to make a choice between greasy pigs bumping up agains my knees or always and forever passing the pencil test, I choose the pencil test.

Faith

2009-06-22T20:35:00.006-04:00

As I walk to the park I am struck by images. My spirituality is

strong and I find comfort and peace in nature. Living in New York City can be challenging at times...but I am thankful that I have a park close to my home that helps me escape. I have mentioned it many times in this blog...and have walked the path often to escape from the rat race that booms in my head.

I passed this little branch and was taken aback...

...they are praying

tidbits, bites, and boots.

2009-03-18T21:22:00.009-04:00

I have had random thoughts and moments of,"OH, I should blog about that...the world needs to know what quirky tid-bits are coming to mind." So...world...you are in luck! Wait. I'm sorry, what? You mean the world isn't reading my blog?

On the way to the grocery store yesterday I passed a board with all sorts of local advertisements. This was my favorite.

"How much expertise?", I think. Based on this sign I will turn over my W2 and my social security number and bank account information. Please, where do I sign up? Maybe payment is only my first born.

******************************************************************************

Please take a close look at this picture below.

This is what my pizza came in. Someone should be shot.

I 'argue' with the husband weekly on whether we should be ordering pizza AGAIN. He would like to have it every other day. I would like to have it every other week. (not because I don't like it. I'm just the only one with some restraint) We settle on about once a week. The BOX doesn't help.

So, tell me, Mr. Ab Rocket, do I use the ab rocket for 5 minutes WHILE I'm eating my pizza? Or, do I wait at least a half hour after I'm done to avoid cramping?

**************************************************************************

I made myself a little tasty treat the other day, to off set the Busting Pizza Abs. I thought I would share.

1 Amy's California Veggie Burger

1/4 avocado

1/2 cup spinach

3 or 4 broccoli twigs

3 or 4 cauliflower bushes

1 flour tortilla (i prefer whole wheat but we didn't have any)

This was delicious. Warning...if eating around Mickey (cat), he likes veggie burgers. He will try to eat your face off to get to it.

2 days later I made another wrap...Veggie burger, avocado and granny smith apple. Also delectable.

*****************************************************************************

And last but not least, as promised...boots.

Can You Hear Me Now???

2009-03-01T17:31:00.003-05:00

I left the apartment today without my cell phone. I didn't realize it until I got downtown. "Crap! How will I stay connected to my life!?! I have to call Crista later to see if we are going to meet. Jay wants me to call him before I come home. Wait...I can use my work blackberry." Nope...that is at home as well. I truly am electronic-less. A bit of panic set in...

"Ok, It's not a big deal" I said to myself. "I can do this. I can use a pay phone today. Shit, I only have 1 quarter. Is that even enough these days? I haven't used a pay phone in years. It's probably like $.50! WHY DID I HAVE TO LEAVE MY CELL PHONE AT HOME!"

I had to keep giving myself a pep talk. "Ok, I don't need to worry about it now. I have errands to run. Let's do those first and then worry about what to do later. I can enjoy this day of being unreachable. I'm free!"

I would like to say that I felt entirely free of my phone. I wasn't. I had this small pit in my stomach all afternoon. Sad, right?!

I made one phone call with my one quarter. Pay phones are still $.25! Amazing. With the price of postage soaring up and the cost of using an ATM...I thought Alexander Graham Bell would jump on the band wagon.

I called Jay. The connection was fuzzy, but I felt better knowing that I had reached someone! I wish I was exaggerating, but I am not. The first thing he said to me was..."Where are you calling from." My response was "A PAY PHONE! Can you believe it?!?!?" I asked him to text Crista to give her a heads up. At that point Ms. Recorded Operator came on to say, "Please deposit another quarter for 4 minutes."

"Oh My GOD!" my brain screamed. I don't have any more. I start yelling into the phone, "Jay, can you hear me??? Can you hear me???" Ms. Recorded Operator is still demanding another quarter. I hear Jay in the back ground saying, "I can hear you." I tell him I love him and I will see him when I get home. We lose connection.

How did I do this before? In 1999 I did not have a cell phone. How did I survive? How did I meet people during the day? How did I find people I lost in the store? How did I make last minute plans to have tea with a friend when I found myself in their neighborhood? HOW DID I KNOW WHAT TIME IT WAS? It all perplexes me.

Through out my travels today I had to ask people what time it was. I was meeting some friends at 2:30 and wasn't wearing a watch. Over a period of 3 hours I asked 5 people what time it was. 3 of those people looked at their cell phones to tell me the time.

I found myself twice waiting in line and went to reach for my cell phone to make "use" of the "free" time I had. I truly am plugged in and tuned out. I am out of touch with my self. How did I become this person that needs internet on my cell phone? When did I become the person that needs to text someone immediately? Everywhere I walk I see people plugged in to their phones, their ipods, their pda's, their iphones. That is me. Very rarely do I ride the subway without listening to music AND reading at the same time. Heaven forbid I just sit on the train listening and watching what is going on around me. Heaven forbid I listen to my own thoughts...

So, the good news. I survived without connection for 6 hours today. I used a pay phone. I talked to 5 strangers. I used my friends phone to call Crista. I listened to my own thoughts and it was all ok. I'm sad to say it was uncomfortable, but for the first time in a long time, I was actually awake and aware every place I stood.

Bone China

2008-12-03T21:16:00.003-05:00

As I left work tonight I have noticed a change in the air. Cold, crisp and the holiday shoppers are out. There are Christmas Tree's on sidewalks waiting to be taken home and dressed up. The stores are decked bright and shiny. Bloomingdales has strung a million lights outside the city block wide building. Victoria's Secret Flagship Store has had it's grand opening and the line to get in is out the door.

The holiday's are upon us and it is in the air.

As I strolled to the subway, enjoying the lights, I passed a shop that sells 'Authentic Chinese Art" Something caught my eye and I gasped as I passed. I did not gasp out in joy...more like fear. I hope I am not offending anyone but this "Fine Bone China Figure" FREAKED ME OUT...

...ummmmm, what is that??? Here is a closer look...

What the hell is that? Seriously. I have enough night terrors! Can you imagine THAT on my nightstand breathing it's octopus breath on me? And are those really octopi?

Octopi...Octopuses...Octopi...Octopuses

Also...are they trying to kill the Chinese man or are they his friends? They have 'friendly' faces. And by 'friendly', I mean in a clown like creepy way. A clown with a really long nose...or an octopus with a really long nose. what??

Who knows.

One thing I know for sure...I won't be surprised if my night terror's tonight include a Chinese Man screaming angry words at me while octopi with creepy clown faces are trying to strangle me.

Ahhhhh, sweet dreams.

A Tail of the Turkey Thief

2008-11-28T22:12:00.006-05:00

We spoil our cats Mickey and Bean. I hate to admit it, but it's true. So, in true fashion, we decided to share our Thanksgiving with the beasts. We shredded up some turkey breast and shared in the festivities.

Well...apparently, that wasn't enough for Mick...

"You're holding out on me!"

"I smell more turkey"

"I think this might be a better angle."

"JACKPOT! Thank God they haven't trimmed my claws like the keep promising!"

Needless to say, Mick won out on the thievery. I valued my face more than getting the turkey back. Now, if you will excuse me, it sounds like Mick is tearing up aluminum foil. Apparently he likes left over dinner rolls...

far from sleepy

2008-11-22T14:55:00.003-05:00

You know you're tired when at 6:45 am you pass a homeless man sleeping in a sleeping bag on the ground...and you're jealous.

Cabrini Blvd

2008-11-11T21:25:00.006-05:00

Needed a break. My head has been murky lately and I had to get out. Strapped on my shoes...threw my camera over my shoulder...and headed north on Cabrini Blvd. The views always surprise me...even after 10 years of living here.

--hudson river

--the jokes on them...

--hudson river

--george washington bridge

--continuing on cabrini

--fort tryon park: entrance to heather gardens. i'm not lying. that is what it's called

--seems like it might be spring...

--tall and stark

--reminds me of a spider web

Is the grass greener?

2008-10-14T20:35:00.008-04:00

...apparently it is. Just ask my cats.

Every morning we feed Mick and Josie a 1/2 of can of wet food. They both get the same thing. If one gets chicken...they both get chicken. If one gets turkey and salmon, they BOTH get turkey and salmon.

So tell me, why do they start out eating their own food but end up eating each others when the their sibling is out of the room? Why do they start eating their sibling's food when they haven't even come close to finishing their own??? Apparently they each think the grass is greener on the other side...or the food is more savory out of a bowl other than their own...

I often get the "grass is greener" syndrome when I am at a restaurant. Some how the husband's food is ALWAYS better than mine...I just didn't think feline experienced it as well.

"Feed me and no one gets hurt"

- Mickey Mantle

"WOMAN! Why is my dinner NOT cooking?!?"

- Josie aka Bean

Towers

2008-09-11T16:00:00.003-04:00

On a day that feels very heavy, my heart goes out to all who lost a loved one 7 years ago today. May our country one day heal. May we all reach for unity, peace and love.

Stop the Whining

2008-09-10T22:15:00.008-04:00

There is all this talk currently in the Presidential Race about " whiney women". Palin made it very clear how she felt about Hilary Clinton. In my un-humble opinion there is lots of double standards in relation to the gender card...but this is not what I am peeved at.

Believe it or not, it's sports related. This is about Curt Schilling, King of the Whine. Before I met the husband I was just a simple girl who loved football and the Packers. (and now the Jets. That doesn't sit too well in this household since the husband is a Dolphins fan) The husband introduced me to baseball and the Yankees. I learned baseball by way of the Yankees. I am a good student. I am a loyal Red Sox hater.

But, as much as I love to see the Yankee's whip the Red Sox and as much as I like to see the Patriots lose...I never wish a player to go down. Bitter Schilling has his head so far up his back side he doesn't know if he is shouting or farting.

If rooting for a team other than the Pats makes me a bitter fan, then so be it. I guarantee I will be rooting for Farve and the Jets next weekend.

"Hey, Curt, stick a bloody sock in it!"

Gratitude

2008-09-06T16:38:00.008-04:00

When one is struck with great emotional pain it is incredibly difficult to find gratitude. Jay and I suffered a painful loss on Thursday and it almosts feels as if my heart will not recover.

But, in the past 2 days I have had glimpses of gratitude. I have learned over the years that the best time to make a gratitude list is in times of despair. It doesn't take my pain or grief away but it does help ease it.

Here are my ABC's...

A - Advil
B - Beast (aka mickey)
C - Crista
D - Dragon Puff
E - Elastic waistbands
F - Farve #4
G - Guffawing at my husband
H - Higher Power
I - In-Laws
J - James Clifford Haddad
K - Karaoke
L - Love
M - McQuillan
N - Naps
O - Oak Trees that I can't get my arms around
P - Pancakes and Potatoes (MASHED) I have had both today.
Q - Queen of all the Beans (aka Josie)
R - Rain
S - Starbucks
T - Tenney
U - Uncle Fred, "Stiff upper lip."
V - Vacation to WA
W - Waterworks
X - Xylophone...yeah, I know it's weak...but cut me some slack!
Y - Yams - candied - preferably my mom's
Z - ZeeZee plant - I bought one today in honor of Puff

the joy of creating

2008-07-28T21:22:00.003-04:00

Shame...

I have stopped singing, dancing, acting, performing...I haven't opened my mouth in a full belt in over 2 years. I haven't done a step-touch in God knows how long.

Where has my creative girl gone? Is she sleeping? Is she afraid? Did she just get so burned out that the creative voice is now just a pile of ashes? It's almost like I never knew how to sing...how to express.

Do I miss it? I don't know.

What kind of answer is that? I wish I could tell you.

I have been asked to sing again. A demo.

Fear comes up.

Shame comes up.

My old acronym for FEAR??? F**k Everything And Run...

I think it's time to dust the ashes off and find the voice that enjoyed soaring.

I stole this blog from my husband

2008-07-11T21:12:00.017-04:00

Flashback: Two nights ago, we had a delicious rotisserie chicken for dinner. After which, we threw the remains in the garbage.

Fast forward to: Last night, I tied up said garbage and left it by the door to take out the following morning.

Fast forward to: This morning around 5:30am, my wife wakes, sits up and says, "Oh, Bean threw up on the bed!" I wake with these words, but upon further review (my wife in her blindness, poking at the mess) we discovered she hadn't thrown up at all. It was a chicken leg- mysteriously similar to one consumed two nights prior. I ambled down the hall, and my suspicions we confirmed: the little brat had chewed through the bottom of the garbage bag and removed an early morning snack for herself.

Flashback (presumed): Bean, sauntering down the hall in the early morning darkness, chicken bone in jowls, howling away- as she is want to do when she is holding things in her mouth.

This female feline of many nicknames (her real name is Josie, after all) has deservedly earned another: Princess Drumstick, as so dubbed by my wife.

The button to the story is that later I discovered that Mickey Mantle, the masculine feline presence in the house, had indeed thrown up in his room down the hall. Thanks for bringing it all home, Mick.

SAUSAGE!

Crank Day

2008-07-08T21:05:00.004-04:00

I couldn't decide what to wear today. Things were too hot, too tight, too uncomfortable. After 4 outfits...finally, I make it out the door. This is a tale tell sign of my mood.

It's freakin' hot and muggy right now. As soon as I walk out the door into the swamp, my hair resembles an overgrown chia pet.

My 30 minute train ride was accompanied by a Snoop Dog wanna be. For 30 minutes he rapped along with his ipod. "...cause your moving too fast and your ass is too fat...know what I mean...I'm the shit...I'm the shit...my swag, my swag, my swag, my swag"

I am almost homicidal by the time I get to 59th St.

Why do parents pierce their baby's ears?

Cigarette smoke on a 90 degree day with 67% humidity. Someone choke me.

Ordering a Portabella Mushroom and Spinach Quesadilla only to find out after you return to the office that they forgot the spinach.

People stepping on the back of my flip flops AND NOT APOLOGIZING!

I'm seriously close to homicide.

Clearly these are serious problems to have...

The Fighting Irish

2008-06-18T21:52:00.003-04:00

Here is Irish.

She is 20.

In human years...you would be 96.

This girl is amazing.

Rats

2008-06-10T21:22:00.006-04:00

I get to order supplies for a corporate company. Now, being the supply kleptomaniac that I am, this is a treat. Paging thru catalogues and surfing the employee site feeds every bit of shop-aholic inside of me. I get the power to decide what pens you use and if you get to write on college ruled paper or grade-school "I'm learning how to write the alphabet" ruled paper. I get to decided if I want to have plastic covered paperclips, which are very girlie, or the sterile metal clips, which come in two options...smooth or rippled for better gripping. I am prone to get the girlie ones just for spite. I get the executive decision of picking out staplers, tape dispensers, pens, pencils, scissors, letter openers, rulers, notebooks, highlighters...the list goes on. I also get to buy the organization tools to make the supply closet pristine. If only I had a corporate account at "The Container Store" the office supply closet would far surpass my closet at home. In fact, it already does surpass my home because the items I purchase are "free". There is no need to enter the $800.00 bill into my spreadsheet at home...or at least conveniently place the receipt on the pile of disorganized papers on my desk at home waiting to be entered into my spreadsheet.

There is always a small thrill placing that order...and excitement that rips thru my body knowing that very soon pastel colored post it's will be sitting on my desk waiting to be used.

The downside of my pristine supply closet are the rats that invade it. The rats that invade my work of art are the mature corporate geniuses that work for my corporate company. They are geniuses to me because they work in Technology. That is a word that doesn't sit will with me...Technology...it's all so matter of fact, such a science, such a garbly gook language, that only a mind resembling a vortex could operate within Technology.

These genius rats invade my closet with no respect for the art of organization, the art of the order, or the art of genius it takes to order just the right pen or just the right ergonomically fit stapler. They tear thru the plastic coverings on the post-it notes only to leave behind the garbage like a overused tissue. They empty boxes of pens only to leave the torn up boxes cluttering the shelves. I guess since rats don't have opposable thumbs they are unable to open the boxes that hold the pens like a considerate human. No, they need to shred the box into smaller pieces to grab the pen in their mouth and scurry out of the room before anyone shines a light on them.

Which brings me to another thing...where is the rats nest that holds all the supplies? Without a doubt I will proudly carry the shiny new supplies to the supply closet and put everything away with great care and thought, only to return 3 days later to find only crumbs and droppings left. Where have they gone? Where is the King Rat and why is he demanding that the closet be emptied as soon as it is full? How does he know that it is full? Damn him, and damn his followers...they love stealing everything and leaving a mess in their wake only to have this college graduate clean up their mess and start the process all over again.

I am convinced that this huge corporate company has rats. I base my conclusion on that no human being I know would ever make such a mess at such an upstanding company and expect another person to clean it up. Everyone here is respectable and kind and wouldn't scurry to a dark corner once a light hits their beady little eyes...

The A Train

2008-06-09T21:20:00.005-04:00

Tourist run amuck in the city. They slow you down, they get in your way, they bring their children...

..riding the train when a family of 4 get on board. They were strapped in with their fanny packs and sneakers. They were blonde and blue eyed complete with 1 boy and 1 girl. The boy, about 7, clearly enjoyed too many Chicken Mc Nuggets.

As they rode the train the chubby one was swinging on the pole. All of a sudden he stopped dead in his tracks and started staring at me. Then, to my amazement, he stuck his tongue out and licked the pole! LICKED THE POLE!! I looked at his parents and they were paying him no mind.

I looked back at the chubby one and he had this maniacal look in his eyes and he stuck his tongue out again and proceeded to clean the pole, all the while he was staring at me. I made a face at him like, "EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWW, no, no, no, no, no, NO....GROOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSS!" I then mouthed, "Don't do that!"

The chubbster then lifted his fat little hand and flipped me off. FLIPPED ME OFF!!! I gasped..he laughed.

Go ahead kid, lick away. Lick your fat ass off.

Creature from the Black Legume

2008-06-02T21:29:00.006-04:00

Here is The Bean. It was brought to my attention that Mickey Mantle had made an appearance and Bean did not. Mickey is a showman. He loves the spotlight. Bean, not so much. There was much forcing to capture this shot of her. Lot of flying fur and meowing. Her real name is Josie. It's a long story of how she went from Josie to Bean. I blame the husband, the nickname fanatic. He can tell you the path on his own blog if he wishes.

I am still picking fur out of my mouth from trying to capture the money shot. eck

Ignorance is bliss?

2008-06-01T21:00:00.007-04:00

New York City's Board of Health approved a measure that will require restaurants in the city with 15 or more locations nationally to display calorie count information next to menu items. The New York Post quotes Margo Wootan, nutrition policy director of the Center for Science in the Public Interest: "It's going to get a lot easier to make informed choices at New York City's chain restaurants this spring."

This sucks.

I can no longer feign ignorance that my chocolate chunk cookie from Starbucks is no big deal. It hits the charts at a "measly" 420 calories.

NYC as of March 31st has begun to post the calories of items on their menu. I have to say...it makes a difference. My choices have been altered. I went into Chipotle on Saturday craving a steak burrito bowl. mmmmm...beef. My usual: Steak, rice, black beans (my mouth is watering), tomato salsa, hot sauce, sour cream and guacamole. All of that = deliciouso. As I stood in line I saw that my burrito bowl, depending on what I get, could range from 250 calories to 850 calories. 850 calories?!?! Holy Crap!!! I changed my order. I dropped the sour cream and guac and half the rice.

One of their slogans is "Contains Only Real Food". Yep...if you aren't careful, real fattening food!

Today, I stopped at Starbucks with my dear friend Cristina. We had been shopping at a flea market and desperately wanted something cool to drink and something sweet to eat. We 'settled' for 2 double chocolate chip cookies. (1 for each) They are 2 bite cookies at 80 calories a pop. I hate to admit that the tiny cookie was amazingly delicious. I had it finished by the time I got out the door. As a sugar addict I was bummed that the experience was over but by the time I hit the next block I was happy that I hadn't consumed another 340 calories.

In a way, I am grateful to know how much I am putting in my body. Awareness is key. I also know that when I actually commit and purchase my 420 calorie chocolate chunk cookie (and I WILL!) I will savor every last crumb...

I just won't commit as often.

Hill

2008-05-07T21:48:00.000-04:00

Answer me this...

When is it strength and perseverance and when are you just beating a dead horse and causing damage to the entire party?

Woof

2008-05-06T22:01:00.000-04:00

Dog lovers, UNITE!

I am a huge dog lover. I have a lot of friends who say they are also dog lovers. But I ask you this...how can you be a true dog lover if you discriminate?!?

A dear friend of mine, let's call him Samson, had some discriminatory comments about the dog that appeared on my blog. "Get rid of that 'explicit' awful teeny tiny dog. Didn't you meet any nice Labs or Retrievers or Corgis on your walk? You know - real dogs?"

Now, I love Samson, but how can he call himself a dog lover if he can't love ALL dogs? Why doesn't a Yorkie or a Dachshund get the same street credit as a Bernese Mountain or a German Shepherd? Is a Bulldog better than a Pug? Where do you draw the line? Is it height? Is it weight? How about the color of fur?

My brother-in-law, let's call him Carl, has the same idea. If a dog needs to wear a sweater in the winter, then it's not, 'you know - a real dog'!

Another friend states that he loves dogs...unless you can punt them.

I believe that all dogs have hearts as big as the world...not matter how big or small they are. They will always love you and always be waiting with baited breath to hear your keys in the door no matter how much they weigh or how big their paws are.

So, God bless the mother who could love this face...

Toast and Jam

2008-05-04T20:50:00.001-04:00

About a year and a half ago my husband and I decided to get creative while painting a room in our apartment. I saw the room as a retreat from the rat race of the city. A place to close the door and find some peace and serenity. I wanted warm corals...the sense of calming warmth. We carefully chose "Mexican Chile" for the ceiling, "Guava Jam" for the walls and white trim. It was perfect...in theory.

Reality was that it was nuclear. It burned our retinas. It caused headaches. The ceiling turned out to be a red-ish terracotta...the walls looked like an diseased salmon died, became bloated and then exploded. I cried for days. All that freakin' hard work WASTED. The room just pissed me off.

I shunned it for a year and a half.

After some time the scabs of defeat healed and the scars finally disappeared and we were finally ready to try again. (actually, it was out of sheer laziness of not doing it sooner) We decided to leave the ceiling as is. (again, out of sheer laziness) We chose to paint the walls in a warm brown, "Toasted Wheat". After 2 coats of primer and 2 coats of "toasted wheat" the room is as I always saw it. The nuclear glow seeping out the door is gone. Peace has re-entered into the apartment and I can escape. Maybe, just maybe, I will sit on my meditation pillows and check the outside rat race at the door...

...and tend to the rat race in my head.

Coffee Break

2008-04-08T20:52:00.000-04:00

My prescription for a "crap mood"...take a walk thru Central Park and have a cappuccino...

Meet Cappuccino. She was just a tad resistant to the camera. Adorable and consumable!

Cappuccino's Dad was all to happy to 'assist' in her photo shoot.

Go Blue!

2008-04-06T10:37:00.000-04:00

Watched the Final Four last night...

They all wore blue. Did anyone else notice that? So...the big question about Monday night's Championship game...who will wear predominately blue and who will where predominately white with blue accents?

My prediction:

Memphis will wear white.

Kansas will wear blue.

Oh...and Memphis will take the cake.

Fever

2008-03-30T16:36:00.000-04:00

Spring...

I am awaking from the dead. The earth is warming, my senses are clearing and I have the fever. We all feel it.

I went for a walk today, on this brisk, crystal blue sky day, in the park close to my apartment. Everyone was out...moms, dads, couples, teens, babies, dogs, runners, squirrels, guys, bikers, women, picnic-ers, basketball players. There was 1 birthday party, for "Michael". Just follow the soccer themed signs to find the party.

I tend to like to tune the city noises out. I am never far from my ipod. It is another appendage. Thank goodness I left it at home. Missing the birds sing would have been a tragedy.

Disappointment

2008-03-27T21:27:00.000-04:00

I forgot to get wet cat food. Instead of wet food in the morning he and is sister will have to eat dry food. He's not pleased.

Rotten Eggs

2008-03-27T20:58:00.000-04:00

Not sure what is up with my stomach but it dictates my life. Food is never far from my mind. I freakin' love food.

Except oysters, the slimy bastards. I would rather vomit than eat oysters. In fact, I might throw up if I do eat one so let's just skip that whole experiment. The other thing I hate is egg yolks...also makes me throw up. When I was a kid my dad often made fried eggs. I would only eat the whites. Well, one day Pops got offended at my snub of the yolks and insisted I eat my yolks. I started bawling and screaming "I'll throw up, please don't make me!!!!!!!!" My dad wasn't going to let this one go and said, "Eat the damn yolks." (swearing added for effect) I do the dirty deed...sobbing like a drama queen...and then proceed to project bile all over the kitchen table.

Payback's a bitch.

I have a very active gag reflex. If I see someone tossing cookies the gaging starts and one needs to stay clear of a possible chain reaction. My 'loving' husband loves to test this out on me. His favorite trick is to dry heave in my presence just to watch me gag and heave involuntary in response. Ah, stupid human tricks. We are a great team at a slow party.

Well, I started out writing a completely different blog but all this talk of vomit has stolen all of my creative juices...so to speak.

Until next time...

Balancing on Noodles

2008-03-20T21:42:00.000-04:00

I can't move. I blame the gym.

I have never been one who likes to exercise. As a child, between the age of 6 - 12, I was a huge swimmer. And I don't mean my size. I think I weighed all of 20 lbs wet. I was a maniac swimmer because my mother wanted her daughter to go to the Olympics. I had a 'backstage' mom of the swimming world.

What does a 8 year old do at swim practice when they are training to be an Olympic swimmer? Swim...swim, run, run stairs, lift weights...yes, you heard correct, lift weights. I can't remember what I bench pressed at 8, but I am sure I could have whipped your 8 year old ass. I digress...

I don't like to exercise. I didn't at 8...I don't now. But as a health conscious adult I know that it is best to keep a healthy heart by pumping some extra blood into it. It also keeps me from tripping on a flabby, saggy ass.

I haven't been in a long time...a very long time. I am the queen of excuses of why I can't go...I'm too tired, my stomach hurts, my knees ache, I just washed my hair...but, the Gods spared me of all excuses today and I went.

As bedtime is approaching I am wondering how I am going to step into the shower without a step ladder. I look forward to resting the weary body in my delicious bed. And as I wake tomorrow I will begin to think of every excuse that will take precedence over my presence at the gym.

Manicure anyone?

Signs

2008-03-16T21:51:00.000-04:00

There is a new tradition in my apartment now that I am married. Spring Training has begun and "Field of Dreams" must be watched.

I don't think I ever realized (back in '89) that it wasn't just about baseball.

Listen.

Be willing.

Trust.

...all things that are against my nature...