renovation

The smell of fresh paint and sawdust still lingers. Scent of pine tree wafts up my stairs. Such is life during a holiday renovation. Old walls came down and up went new ones. Cabinets were assembled while appliances were installed. Big slabs of butcher block were laid upon fresh white cabinetry. Stainless steel sink with my fancy new faucet finally tucked into place and new pipes delivered water for the first time in three weeks. Every single wall besides my son's room and the bathroom were layered in a warm white paint. Garbage pick rug unrolled and cleaned only to be rolled back up and delivered to which it came. There is still hope for that rug, I haven't given up yet. On that I am thankful for overly ambitious friends who plucked it from my tree lawn, hauled it to an open space, and cleaned it even better then the professionals. My nose will do the final smell test tomorrow when I retrieve it from his domain. Now I sit on my antique bed half buried in the week's discarded clothes relaying the process to you lovelies. When I first mentioned the plan to my husband, he thought I was nuts, but it was doable. When I mentioned the kicker, "Oh, and we're having your family for Christmas dinner so it all has to be finished," he was ready to drive me to the asylum, seeing that I had lost my mind and all. See, his family incorporates about 20 people with fiancees, extended members, and giant nephews.Well, here we are just 3 days away from our or I should say, my deadline and it's finished. I should specify that the whole kitchen did not need to be complete, just "phase one". Phase one encompassed new appliances, new walls, cabinets, counter, and sink. Phase two will follow after the holidays with the obligatory subway tile, upper cabinets, vintage refrigerator, and chalkboard stairwell leading to the basement. Budget constraints and Christmas did not allow for everything to be finished in it's entirety, but we are cool with this. Actually relieved. Starting a new job, running a business during the holidays and the aforementioned hundred other activities thrown in there was exhausting with a remodel piled on. We did it though with only one major meltdown, blow out argument that had me chasing my Midol with a styrofoam cup of red wine before noon. It was to be expected. I am bossy. I expect everyone to move at my pace and get very irritated and impatient when it doesn't happen. My husband didn't appreciate me conversing with him as if I were his foreman. I'll tell ya, and men don't hate me, but if women were contractors, the shit would get done in half the time. My husband is a saint. He put up with my bossy ways and only showed me his Irish when I pushed him too far. As I said, it was to be expected. Now as he stares at his new kitchen or turns on the extremely quiet dishwasher, he beams with pride. He was awesome in his ability to work long hours teaching, help me move my furniture and bust out the renovation in about 2 weeks. I painted, cooked, tried to clean up the many messes, took our child to and from school, and ran the store. I was happier being out of the way, well except to offer my to do list that he really appreciated. Not. So now we can breathe a bit, enjoy Christmas. The tree is up, grabbed from Home Depot along with some pipes. My big bulb colored lights shine joyously amid my dozens of vintage Shiny Brites. Vintage white plastic reindeer grace my mantle under a swag of paper chain. We are going simple this year choosing to enjoy instead the food and arriving family on the big day. Cookie baking and mass and a quiet dinner with my boys takes up my Christmas eve. We renovate our home, we renovate ourselves. My son made due with the mess, never complaining and enjoying the Christmas music and movies we played to distract from the construction. His behavior in school even seemed to improve. Crowded around a table together we were tired yet close. I learned a lot about patience and manners while on this dirty journey. I didn't always practice either in the kindest ways, but I have learned again that my husband is my champion. He may move at his own pace yet he always comes out on top and for this I am so grateful and if I could hashtag blessed just once, this would be the time. I don't need fancy presents to remind me how loved I am, I have only to look at my new kitchen. Good night world.

wow

Today is one of those Mondays where I wish I could crawl back in my bed and sleep away the frantic, stressful morning. Unfortunately too many cups of seriously crappy coffee makes this an impossibility for I am wired like an electric fence and you better step back. I feel like I would sizzle and snap if you touched me. Gazing out my window at the early snowfall, I reflect back on the past few weeks. In a nutshell, wow. I feel like God got so sick of our bitching and complaining and said "Give them what they want so I don't have to listen to them for awhile!" Of course he said this in a giant booming voice complete with thunder crashes and lightning. Seriously though, what a ride. As I stated in my last post eons ago, my husband has found a career. Officially a high school teacher, he races out of the house every morning, coffee thermos and computer in hand. My heart swells with pride when I see how happy and peaceful he finally is. During the interview process my nerves couldn't take anymore so I decided to tear our entire house apart. We have been living with a sub par kitchen and identity crisis bedroom for so long I decided now or never. I have also decided to paint the interior of my entire house. My child demanded a real live Christmas tree this year and evergreen just does NOT work with key lime walls so white it will be. I will miss my aluminum splendor this Christmas, but change is good and who am I to deny a child a live tree? The upstairs hallway is also missing a corner linen cabinet that fell 3 feet short of the floor, stopping in mid wall for no apparent reason other then to annoy me the past 11 years. That too got a taste of my sledge hammer with my six year old cheering me on every step of the way, "Go mama, go mama!" So here we are, new career, a kitchen with no walls, holes in my hallway, half-painted bedroom and then I get a phone call. The t.v. producer I had been conversing with via email called and welcomed me on board as a designer of a room on an episode of a morning design show, former Calvin Klein model as the host. WHAT?!! I am not a designer. I sell old junk for a living. Well, apparently my customer thought differently and recommended me for the position. Holy crap, I'm going to be on t.v.! After a whirlwind week and a half of endless emails and texts from my lovely young producer and countless trips for paint and accessories and furniture, film day arrived. Now to quiet the butterflies in my stomach and hope I don't look fat or old on the small screen. Arriving at the pre-film meeting I finally got to meet the gorgeous host. With a dazzling smile and an infectious enthusiasm he took away all my nerves. Working side by side all day I forgot the cameras were even there. Not being a designer by trade and I mean with a degree, I was nervous I would fail. Faced with budget and schedule constraints I thought how the heck can I even pull this off? Growing up my entire life around design with my interior decorator mother and artist uncle, I relaxed, stopped thinking about the small things, and just did what I know how to do. Watching it all come together and hearing the homeowners cry with joy reaffirmed my faith in my ability. A few kind words and hug from the host didn't hurt either. Besides the fact that filming a t.v. show is all kinds of fun and I would definitely do it again, the one lesson I learned from this experience is I am happy right where I am. There is nothing more satisfying then digging through piles of dirty junk, estate sales, flea markets, dusty attics and damp basements. Lugging my haul back to the shop and somehow artistically blending decades together in a small space is where my knowledge of color, scale, and proportion truly comes into play. In my space I'm the boss and that is just how I prefer it. Now that the t.v. show excitement has simmered down, I am able to focus or I should say forge ahead into the holidays. With barely a second to breathe I am on to the next adventure. Life certainly doesn't slow down to wait for you to catch up and boy, I am running. This holiday kick off has me at our local holiday market. A big event well advertised and curated. The event lasts 3 days and I basically have 3 days to get my act together. Sipping afternoon bubbly with my favorite gypsy girl didn't help my productivity this afternoon, but it sure was lovely. Following that we are upon Thanksgiving and the big Black Friday event in my own brick and mortar. Christmas comes complete with Santa and a parade to my hometown the first Saturday in December. Three big holiday weekends all in a row only to be followed by my whole house remodel that we have to somehow bang out in a month. So yes, I am busy. Do I mind? Absolutely not. I have worked hard and waited a long time for my life to find me and now that I'm in the thick of it living that life, there is no slowing me down. Good night world.

growing up

Feeling particularly edgy this morning I decided to ignore the angry sky, grab my board and hit the water. A gusty south wind did little to ruffle the surface of the glassy calm. My lake the color of army fatigues made barely a sound as my paddle propelled me forward using only my body as the motor. Just me and the birds. Enjoying the gloom and the repetitive motion of paddling I once again felt the tension leave my back and shoulders. As I changed direction and headed downwind, the city a blocky silhouette in the distance, I felt the breath leave my body. A great big audible sigh of relief. After so many years of worry and stress our life is finally on track. My husband has found his career. This week begins his new life as a high school computer teacher. All the years of tears, frustration, worry, stress, anger are merely a bad memory. My husband says "Don't worry, you'll just find something new to worry about." Well once again the man is right. I don't know how NOT to worry. Ebola, money, flesh eating bacteria, the trifecta of worries in my crazy brain. My edginess this morning was brought on by slow business and the next three weeks waiting for that first paycheck and praying the store pulls through. Every October I go through this. Business screeches to a slamming halt and I have to sell my soul to make anything happen. The bills pile up and the estate sales always seem to be the BEST SALES EVER when I'm broke. Well, after my time on the lake this morning I realized, it's only three weeks. I've waited longer than this for our life to gain momentum so I suppose I can make it through three lousy weeks. In the meantime I'll just keep working and paddling. So now that my husband is all settled it is time to focus our attention on the little man. After many stressful years and running from job to job and job interviews and arguments and worrying about the future we realized we had spent so much time having our child adjust to our life that it was now time to afford him the same courtesy. As parents you think you're doing the right thing in that moment. You try to be the best parents you know how even though you don't know what the heck you're doing. They say kids need structure and schedules. We thought we were giving him that. After one too many notes from the new kindergarten teacher and a phone call, we realized maybe we weren't being the best parents we could be. Love was never the problem. Sully has never been without love. He is our heart. His former teacher said every family has a level of stress and to not beat ourselves up too much. Well, too late. He is our everything and we had been so consumed with creating a better life for our little family that we let a few things slip through the cracks. Frayed nerves and tired bodies made for sub par parenting or so we felt. It's hard to back peddle and change the habits of the past six years, but this is just what we did. We have established routines, family dinners, less television, and in general just more time spent together. "Us a family" as Sully always says. Well whatever we were before, we are more so now. There is a new level of patience and understanding from both of us. I am more calm or at least I'm trying and will be now that our situation has changed for the better. Peace has ensued and wrapped around us like a warm quilt. The Peter Pan lifestyle has been left behind and in its place is a new found sense of maturity and adulthood. Growing up is never easy whether you're age 6 or 44 yet it is a normal rite of passage. Like a young tree we are now able to grow and spread our branches because we are finally rooted and there is so much light coming in and most important, there is love, oh so much love. Good afternoon world.

silence

No phone. No cohorts with whom to converse. No boats or the mosquito buzz of jet skis. Just quiet, peace and quiet. The water slipping past my board and a far off dog or two were the only sounds on my lake this quiet beautiful morning. After I reached my destination a little farther down the rocky coast, I set down my paddle and stretched out like a cat enjoying the warm fall sun. Floating and day dreaming my morning away was as close to heaven as I could imagine. My two boys were right where they were supposed to be and I had nothing on today's agenda other then my nemesis the grocery store. Procrastinating, maybe, but then it was my day off so there I lie, not moving a muscle. It's funny, as I grow older, this appreciation for absolute silence. I suppose all those days working in the din of a busy restaurant with pans and plates clanging and banging around me had something to do with it. All that chatter from coworkers and customers alike. Then I had a child. A child spends the first year crying and screaming and we had our ears glued to the baby monitor for every sound. To this day the sight of those walkie talkie monitors make me cringe. Nothing like being in a deep deep sleep only to be awakened by an infant's yell. Nervous was how I spent that first year. As a child grows we are introduced to a whole new bevy/cacophony of sounds. My child especially liked to "yodel" this very high pitched singing akin to the Vienna Boys Choir. He is also a talker, like his mama his dad would say. There are also numerous burps and farts. Admittedly I love a good loud burp or fart so I guess there again he is like his mama. I also have a revolving door of neighbors that take over the double rental next door. A constant barrage of yelling and swearing by a lowly sort. Not to mention the constant cars coming and going from the rental across the street. So yes this is just life. Daily percussion. It could be worse. It could be gunfire or bombing or screams of anguish, but these screams are just for one of the many children next door. I'm sure I've even contributed to these daily sounds being that I have a loud voice. Again I attribute it to yelling over people and noise from those restaurant years. Quick aside, prime example, as I sit at my counter writing, my little man feels the need to bang and scrape the plate across the bottom of our porcelain sink. No reason, just clang, clang, scrape, scrape, ugh, just put it in the dishwater. So you see, I have a low tolerance for noise or I should say, I have developed a low tolerance for noise. Years of migraines have also attributed to this being that every little sound makes me cringe in pain. I also have spent the past 20 years talking, a lot. Unavoidable in my careers of choice. Now, in my defense, I know I sound a bit like an old curmudgeon. In fact, I sound a bit like my father. Growing up, the first thing my dad would say upon entering a room where the t.v. was on was, "Can we turn this down a bit?" Every day, like clockwork. So I suppose a bit of that has rubbed off as well, I mean it IS genetics and we do turn into our parents no matter how hard we fight it. Now I am not so rigid as to not crank up the bass in the car or turn up a good song. I also love music while I'm working. Anything from sexy Lana del Ray to Billie Holiday. I especially appreciate the louder, raucous early years of Modest Mouse. As for my morning, I'd like to say I carried that sense of absolute calm throughout my day, but alas the total of this week's groceries had me quickly sliding into a slump. From peaceful to frustrated. Oh well, it worked for a little while. Life is all around us, loud and nasty, messy and chaotic. Finding the time to block it out for even a little while can be positively restorative unless, of course, you end up spending all your earnings on groceries that is. Good night world.

popular

Cheerleader, football players, movie stars, rock stars, these are the types of people that come to mind when I think of the word popular. Looking back on my high school days, I'm not even sure if we had a "popular" crowd. Our cheerleaders certainly weren't the creme de la creme and I don't remember our football team being aces either. If I remember correctly the cool kids were the ones smoking and partying. I had my go at cheerleading, but found it wasn't for me. I then turned to making money, that was more my speed. Landing my first retail job showed me a whole new world of "popular". Mall life was a bit like high school with new crushes to be had, new cliques to identify, and new friends to make. My first retail job was at Express. My managers were the coolest twenty something chicks and I aspired to be like them. They would slip me sips of their Chi Chi's daiquiris and margaritas at our after work hang outs. We would eat nachos and gossip about other mall employees and customers. I loved mall life! I got to wear cool clothes, hang out with the older "cooler" crowd, and get free records from the guy at Record Mart who had a crush on me and took me to see bands like the Cure and Howard Jones. In the years and jobs that followed there was always a clique or pecking order and establishing your place was the first order of business. As I got older I realized all one had to do to find their place was just be good at your job. If you were good, people left you alone. Today we have social media. A cyber monster based on friends and followers in which to gauge our self worth. A veritable playground for narcissists and egomaniacs. It is also the best advertising and marketing tool for businesses. In today's high tech world social media is a must. It is a way to buy, sell, and communicate. Unfortunately it has established this false sense of reality. All of a sudden we have all these "friends". Have you ever walked by one of your "friends" and they never even noticed you or looked at you then went right on with their business? It's a surreal feeling to know everything about this person yet when met face to face they don't recognize you. Instagram is another monster only this one demands followers. So instead of friends we have make believe "disciples". All these people clamoring to worship pictures of your life and swooning over the little snippets you allow to be seen as if we've suddenly become deities when we weren't looking. I mean really, it's not that often we show our "real" life through our devices. Who wants to see selfies of age lines or gained weight or messy houses? "Friend" or "unfriend"? To follow or not follow? We check and recheck our status and base our identities on how popular we've become through social media. Instafamous! It's all so funny to me. When I first learned about Facebook I stayed far far away. I was worried about everyone knowing my business. Business being the operative word. When my young employee started posting pictures of my little shop and my wares, I was tickled by the response. All of a sudden I had a whole new world to conquer that had never heard of me. The economy being as it was or still is for that matter, this was my solution to lagging sales. As my "friends" grew so did my income. Then along came Instagram. This was an even more direct way to boost my business. Hashtags opened that elusive portal to other vintage dealers, decorators, crafters, and collectors. I use this venue to primarily promote my business especially in my own city. I love having followers from all over yet they're not likely to just pop into the store and buy something. Interpersonal communication being so important in this techy world, I make a point to meet and greet my friends and followers when possible. Pictures are great, but don't always show the real person behind the camera. Communication and relationships are key to me. It's how I've always run my business or done my jobs. I enjoy my brick and mortar because with it I'm a part of the community. A real community not born from images. I've established my place in this town. I have personal connections with most of my customers and value the conversations and face to face stories of their lives. With my social media I am able to connect with people near or far yet I am most partial to my local customers. They are the ones walking in the door on a regular basis and keep me around year after year. Without them I am sunk. So yes, social media is fantastic. It is necessary to growing any venture. I am even guilty of a selfie or two. Do I base my self-worth on how many friends or followers I have? Of course not. Do I use this instrument to make life better for my little family? Absolutely. Do I care about being popular or famous? Not a bit. I enjoy what I do and strive to always do it better. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy this socially acceptable voyeurism, yet in this false reality it is nice to remember that life is real not filtered. Good night world.

monday

Monday. A new week. A new beginning. After so much emotional stress last week and an unforeseen incident that left us reeling, I am ready for a new start. A fresh new mindset in which to slough off last week's insanity. Life is hard. That is the first rule of Buddhism. No, I'm not a Buddhist or devout church goer or new age crystal bearing hippie, but I am spiritual and take solace where I find it whether that be any of the aforementioned. Buddha had it right. Life is also beautiful. When I awoke today to the cool misty morning I felt re-energized as if someone had plugged me in and charged me while I slept. I am determined to move forward no matter how many of life's fun little challenges are thrown my way this week. After dropping the little man at school, I had my girlfriend come get me and we started the day with some thrifting and breakfast. Driving around, getting stuck in endless construction, we laughed and talked about nothing. As the sun rose higher, so did my spirits. Determined to face down my evil procrastination demons today, I made endless phone calls, mailed bills, filed late taxes, scheduled with my therapist, and took control. The water called yet I ignored it's siren sound in order to tackle what I left ignored all summer. Today I enjoyed the peace and quiet of my home and the breeze through the screens. Instead of focusing on all the work and demo about to take place I let it's happy colors and clean rooms soothe me.  I went to Target and bought a new book, temporarily resisting the urge to dive in so I can get some laundry done. Dishes to do, clothes to pick up, dinner to be made, child to bathe, all these chores I welcome with open arms on this sunny Monday. Today my solace comes not from any deity, but in the simple tasks that complete our everyday life. Writing to you my dear readers also clears the mind as I've stated numerous times. All day I've had itchy fingers aching to sit down and type on this old lap top. Once again writing has helped settle my crazy brain. My post simple, my mind clear. I am leaving the heavy stuff behind on this beautiful beginning of the week day. Yes, life is hard, but on any given Monday we are offered a chance to wipe the slate clean. Good evening world.

letting go

After hanging up on yet another particularly volatile argument with my sister I sit in reflection writing and wondering where it all went so wrong. For as long as I can remember my sister and I have been at odds. I don't understand why. I have wracked my brain trying to put it into perspective. Out of respect for her feelings, I have an idea yet cannot share these innermost musings. This situation saddens me to my soul. I watch other sisters share a relationship born of love, understanding, and most of all communication. I believe this is the core of the issue, the lack of communication. Ironically that is my sister's profession yet when it comes to personal life, falls short. Through the years I have worked many jobs, but the one constant was waitressing. Working as a server for so long one learns to communicate with many walks of life on all levels. There is no more direct line of communication than in restaurant work. One must be able to relay orders to a kitchen, a bartender, a bus person, other servers, a manager, and most importantly their own tables. One little blip in the chain and there went my tip. Supporting myself this way I could not afford to allow any ripple in the lines of communication. Needless to say I made it my job to learn how to communicate. With so many years of relationships under my belt including my own marriage, communication has never been an issue. When it comes to my own sister it is an issue. To be fair, there are two sides to every story in every relationship. There wouldn't be discourse if there wasn't another with which to argue. I am bossy, sarcastic, opinionated, a tease, and extremely independent. I don't like unrealistic demands placed on my lifestyle nor do I like feeling as if I have to explain my every action. I can be selfish and mean. I am also loyal and loving to those I feel warrant my affection. My friends are like my family and I love them fiercely and deeply sometimes holding back my words out of respect for our relationships and the love I feel for them. We all do this when it comes to loved ones. Family is also extremely if not more important to me. Marrying a man who is half Lebanese I was introduced to a culture I knew nothing about. The unconditional almost clannish love these people have for their own blood brings tears to my eyes. No one is more welcoming then my husband's family even if all is not harmonious on the home front. My mother-in-law and I have our problems, but there is never any judgement and we always talk out our issues and I love her as much as my own mother. Plain and simple we are there for each other not unlike my own family yet my own family feels I've been swallowed up by all this and have forgotten my own blood. This couldn't be farther from the truth. Of course I am immersed in my husband's clan because we all live in the same city. Crossing state lines to visit my own parents or sister can be costly and sometimes inconvenient. The past six years have done a number on my emotional state what with trying to raise a child, keep a business afloat, and wait for my husband's career to take off. Due to my work constraints, there hasn't always been time or money to drive or fly just for a visit. This does not mean I love them any less, it just makes it difficult to see them and I always end up having to over-explain my reasons while feeling guilty and frustrated. Here is where the situation gets sticky. My sister feels somewhere through the years I have wronged her. The time and distance have taken their toll. When trying to explain and explain myself, her old resentments continue to surface and I am always mud in her eyes. I have tried continually to skirt around her extreme sensitivity and firecracker temperament. For the past 20 years I have beat my head against a wall trying to find a common ground on which to communicate. If I offer advice I'm against her. If I ask questions about her career I'm not supportive and don't know what I'm talking about. If I disagree with any one thing she says I am met with the stinkeye and cold shoulder. I can't tease or joke like I do with in-laws or friends because again, I'm against her. The tantrums over the years have made me feel cold and distant and hesitant to be in her company. I try to live life simply and enjoy the small things without the drama that takes over one's younger years. There is nothing simple or small about my sister. She is intense, hard working, complicated, quick to explode yet extremely loyal and loving to friends and family. Somewhere in there one would think we could work this out. I long for her to be a part of my life, of her nephew's life. I am tired, oh so tired of being the only one liable for the strife in our relationship. Today I asked her why I am always to blame. She didn't think her behavior warranted any reflection. Here lies the big problem. As stated above, it takes 2 to tango. I have prayed that someday my sister would wake up and realize I am not the blue-eyed monster she makes me out to be. I have prayed her insecurities would not play such a big role in our relationship. Unanswered, my prayers fall on deaf ears and nothing changes. Because of this I am letting go. I cannot continue this relationship this way anymore. I love her, will always love her, but the constant drama and tears is exhausting. I'm numb. My words in this post will only anger her more yet I too feel wronged, jipped out of a bond that I've never known. Maybe someday....Good afternoon world.

haircut

Well, it is that time of year again or as one mom put it, "the most wonderful time of the year!" This is the time of year when our dear little charges dressed in their brand new clothes with their brand new giant backpacks reminiscent of turtle shells wave good-bye to their parents and head into those hallowed halls otherwise known as freedom, er, I mean school. This is the time of year when I can barely contain my tears as we near the red brick building. This year will be no different. This year we finally enter kindergarten! We are moovin' on up to the second floor. After an extra year of pre-k, my son is graduating to real school. He is ready. We are ready. This time of year is always bittersweet for me. I dread the end of summer. I nearly cry when the pool closes only to be drained and remain a bleak empty concrete hole for nine months. The light changes. Days shorten and leaves fall. Winds pick up and my beloved lake will turn gray and frosty. I hold on to summer until I'm too cold and chicken to venture out on my frosty lake with board in tow. But we are not there yet. It is still warm with plenty of sun and paddleboard time left. With my son joined to my hip at every waking moment this summer, I am looking forward to a little me time. Those few glorious hours I don't have to worry about child care and can race off to run or paddle or treasure hunt for the shop. Whatever I want! My personal freedom. Don't get me wrong, I love my child more then life, but this summer has been challenging. Age 5 was tough. The constant arguments over getting dressed, getting a bath, getting in the car, getting his hair brushed, etc. etc. Fiercely independent and taking no prisoners. No being the operative word. The main word of his vocabulary. He wields that word like a finely sharpened saber aiming at me every chance he gets. Even now as I write I am interrupted by a thud and a "don't come down here", yeah right, like that's going to happen. As I trudge down the steps I find him climbing out the window seeking his independence. Lord, all mighty this little big man is going to put me in my grave. Boys. Never take your eye off them. As you can see, I'm ready. Ready for someone else to take over for a little while. Time for Catholic school. Time for conformity at it's finest. My husband and I have our reasons why our son will spend his school career dressed in uniform and playing by different rules. Rules that even at our age would have trouble abiding, being fiercely independent and strong willed ourselves. This was my husband's path and so it will be our son's. Free spirits don't like rules yet such is life, play the game. The hardest part of this whole business is not the uniform or the religion, but the haircut. This I hate. Who cares how long your hair is? The Catholics care so therefore we cut. After almost 6 years of long blond surfer tresses the hair had to go. I was dreading this moment. His hair was his personality. Wild and defiant yet beautiful. I was fearful if the hair went so would that spark that defines him. I likened it to Sampson. At that my mother-in-law scoffed at me and said if I made it a big deal so would he. Well, I have to give credit where it's due because she was right. As my girlfriend prepared to cut and my son peered at me from under his locks with those steely blue eyes, I held it together. If he saw me upset it would only go to Hell in a hand basket from there. For an hour my brave child held still while my friend razored and snipped and snipped and snipped. When at last his face emerged and I saw the brilliant smile as he flipped back what was left of the front, I saw a boy. My baby was gone and I was left with this tiny version of my husband. At that moment the tears came. He flung the smock to the floor, stood taller and flashed me my husband's grin as he went about his six year old business. Hugging my friend, my anxiety gone, I realized he was ready to fly and I was the one holding him back. Growing up is hard, especially for this mom. So freedom, I mean kindergarten, here we come! Good evening world.

gay

No, I'm not coming out. I'm quite happy in my heterosexual lifestyle. Homosexuality is not normally a subject I would even try to conquer. I mean really, I'm a straight white girl. What could I possibly know on the subject or even hope to offer? I do know that with all the beautiful things happening in my city by the lake, maybe a straight white girl perspective can be heard. As a child of the eighties it was a traditional, conventional, Republican world in which I lived. My neighborhood, white middle class. I had not a clue about love between same sexes. I remember the movie Making Love coming out and my father snorting and walking away from the television. I had no idea why he was discontent and all I could think about was how cute Michael Ontkean and Harry Hamlin were. I was not allowed to see the movie, it was quite forward for that time. In fact, to this day, I don't think I've ever seen it. I remember the commercial previews and seeing the men kiss on my small screen. What I do remember most vividly is seeing the kiss and thinking hey, this is new, so raging were my hormones. The lack of any other reaction to TWO MEN KISSING was apparently foretelling. All I could muster was a hmm. A few years later or maybe the same year, I was infatuated with vampires. At the time The Hunger was the big thing. Watching the love/sex/blood exchange scene between Catherine Deneuve and Susan Sarandon, I was again left with that hmm what is this feeling. To me it was sex, but different. It didn't strike me as weird that it was TWO GIRLS KISSING. At that age hormones weren't picky, they just liked sex scenes, much in the same way I would sneak the teen sex movies when my dad wasn't looking or seek out the sex scenes in my grandmother's hidden Harlequin Romance stash. Okay so now I've painted this picture of a sex crazed teen girl, but hey we've all been there. That innocent, not really innocent lusting after sex or whatever came close without going all the way. Through my years at Kent State I had brushes with gay people, but still pretty clueless and naive on the whole matter. I hate using the words "gay people" because I feel it places the men and women in a category that sounds distasteful or calls more attention to the situation. I suppose it's the same with "straight people" making us sound all high and mighty or something other than just what it is, a label for a grouping. It is hard to know just what is a politically correct way of addressing this group, so quickly we offend these days. I tend to just call them my friends. No differentiating there, I could be talking about anyone. It wasn't until I entered the restaurant business where I became fully schooled on all matters gay. So many different personalities and walks of life came through those doors and I don't mean the customers. Working so close, side by side, in a fast paced environment, there was no time to give any thought to sexuality. Nobody cared. The only thing that mattered was getting through the shift, counting your money, and running for your cocktail. Restaurant people tend to hang with each other every night after work. There is that we just went through Hell camaraderie that bonds you together and goes hand in hand with flowing drinks. So gay or straight we were all one, all in the same boat, enjoying our late night libations after hours of hard work. In short, it didn't matter to me. If you were cool I liked you. I never cared with what sex you coupled. Sooo many years later I am out of the restaurant business. I have a child now and married the cook in the kitchen. He is now a teacher and we live a normal nuclear life. Having just returned from vacation, the first one without any of my boys around us, I reflect upon past years and the company we've kept. One year my husband was surrounded by three men, our child, and myself. He just shrugged his shoulders and loved that the living room got vacuumed. I opened another bottle of wine and Sully loved having all these men to play with. So many "uncles". I can't describe the joy I feel knowing in my house, whether home or on vacation, this child will know no lines, no bias. This is a new world in which we're living. It will be fought with hatred. At the risk of sounding preachy, I do believe that love is love and this is what will keep us moving forward. The display of love Cleveland has provided recently has me near tears. Such a big step so long in the making. So cheers to you friends because gay or straight there is no difference. Good afternoon world.

re-entry

There is something to be said for a vacation that renews your senses and erases all your daily anxieties. Every year at this time, we throw suitcases in the car and race like bats out of Hell to make the trek to "our" beach house down south. We don't really own it, though I wish we did. For one glorious week every summer we pay the steep rent to live on the beach and escape reality. If you've been paying attention to past posts you will notice I've written a few times on this subject. In fact, four years ago yesterday, this little writing adventure of mine was launched. It is never easy leaving the sun, sand, and surf. This year was no exception. The car was packed to near bursting as we stuffed luggage, toys, towels, my son, my friend, her dog, and my husband and I into our vehicle. Leaving just a little porthole out the back window we pushed off at 9:00 p.m. and drove overnight to reach our serenity. The week was filled with the usual sun bathing, wave riding, vodka lemonades, piles and piles of fresh shrimp, and most important good friends. As a new widow, my friend used the time to heal, read, and get a good tan. We talked, we cried, we ate and drank. The next day we would do it all over again. Nightly trips to the grocery and shrimp shop were the only interaction with other humans with the exception of a marsh exploring 4 hour paddle board trip. Actually, there wasn't much human interaction there either, just the three of us, the water and a few sting rays. What lurked under the surface was best not thought of, let's just say it was motivation to not fall. As we departed in the pouring rain on Saturday, I took one last look at my beach and the usual sappy tears fell from my baby blues. If only... Well, we are back and so is reality. No human interaction for a week makes one all freaky feeling when faced with daily human activity. Coming home to the problems with my trashy neighbors had my anxiety right back staring me in the face. The wafting smell of eau de dog shit has me unable to sit on my front porch. Yesterday I found the idiots walking around MY backyard searching for their errant feline. I'm sorry, but you are trespassing on my fenced- in property and I'm sure your parole officer wouldn't like to hear that. Home is a place of respite. It's where our heart is and all those cliches. I am tired of feeling nervous when I return to my respite. Here's where I insert the big sigh. Like I said, leaving the beach is hard, but so is re-entry, a term my mother-in-law coined to describe that helpless wandering just back from the best vacation ever feeling. Re-entry is the reason I started this blog and am still writing to you lovelies. On a more positive note, yes the neighbors are awful. Is it forever? I highly doubt it. Bad neighbors are like gypsies and soon enough they will find another sucker landlord and destroy that rental and so on and so on. All the appropriate authorities have been notified so I am no longer alone in my quest to move them on out. It is also still summer which means more pool/lake-filled days until school starts. Birthdays, kindergarten(finally!) and a new career for my favorite man take us right into autumn. It has been a long hard road to get to this point and now that we are here, life is too good to let it be spoiled by a situation that is temporary. I will view it as balance and then run for my paddle board or my computer where I can release all my worries. A new phase of our life is about to begin and I am excited for the next ride because life is always an adventure and there is always the beach to go home to. Good evening world.

swim lessons

Shimmery turquoise water beckons. Red-suited young adults with teen swagger gather in a group for tonight's instructions. The pool manager with the tiny voice attempts to yell directions at clusters of confused parents and wiggly children. So begins each evening of my five year old's swim lessons. Finding his group, my little man proceeds to cannonball off the side, ready to begin. As he resurfaces, his long hair slicked back from his face, he joins the other bobbing heads clinging to the wall. From my perch on the sun-warmed concrete I can only see said heads as they dip under the water's surface only to reappear sputtering water and wiping their noses. Their arms, not quite coordinated yet, flail in circles as they practice over arm techniques. Clinging to half-sunk kick boards they attempt to push their way across the pool. Lifeguards continue to call out directions while corralling stray children back to their group, not unlike herding a bunch of loose cats. As the lesson progresses I continue to hear my child's name over and over. Looking up from my book I see the look of surprise on my child's face as he realizes(again) he is at swim lessons and needs to listen to his instructors. Welcome to my world I want to say to these exasperated, water-logged, been in the sun all day teenagers. Enjoying my freedom on the pool deck I am able to have one solid hour of uninterrupted reading time. Peering over my pages every so often to view my child's progress I am filled with a burst of pride for this free-spirited, independent child who has fallen head over heels in love with the water. Now for some parents this may cause a bit of apprehension, but for this water baby I am thrilled! When summer arrives I spend every possible moment in or around water. It calls to me. I feel hot and dry and cranky until I get to water. Nothing quenches my soul like the cool blue. It erases all my anxieties and as I slip under the surface or jump into the lake, I am free. This I am happy to pass along to my little one. He is my summer buddy, my partner in crime when it comes to all things aquatic. Trying to coerce my husband to join us at the pool is like dragging an anvil yet this child of ours yells with glee and runs for his bathing suit. In a few short weeks we will be at the ocean. Together we will run and jump into the salty spray. Dodging waves I will grab his hand, never to let go as we are knocked over by their force and spit back out again. I will look at my little man and be happy in my heart that no matter what lies ahead or how many disagreements we have about getting dressed or picking up toys, this water thing, our thing, is just between me and my summer love. Goodnight world.

road trip

Well, here we are almost July. Winter finally freed it's stranglehold and everywhere is green, green, and more green. The sun is warm and the air smells like the Linden trees that line my hometown streets, sweet and intoxicating. Hello summer. Life has settled into it's summer groove. Lazy mornings with my coffee in bed, afternoons at the pool or work, and any opportunity taken to jump on my paddle board and hit the lake. June started in a wave of sadness as a few of my friends suffered some of life's challenges. Happy to not be crying or sad I figured some light reading was on the agenda for you faithful followers. As it so often happens, opportunity knocked during one of those times and my best friend and I found ourselves spontaneously en route to Florida to see our friend. Funny thing about spontaneity, when you're younger it's easy to drop everything and just go. As you get older and kids, spouses, and jobs come into play, it's more difficult to fly like the wind. Well, fly we did, er drive I mean. After an anxiety driven week, we dropped our children with their grammies, left the men to their work and hit the road Thelma and Louise style, you know minus the guns and cliff dive. It had been a very long time since my friend and I traveled together and two very big personalities on an 18 hour drive could be difficult. Could be, but it wasn't. We were champs! Driving and singing and car dancing and a very impromptu stop in Savannah, Georgia did our souls the world of good. Stops for junk food, coffee, smokes and one very off the beaten path gas station saw roads less traveled. After the final few harrowing hours on Florida's fine I75 which left my knuckles in a white death grip, we arrived at our destination and were welcomed with ice cold slushy margaritas and many hugs and kisses. Passing out by 11 we were up early the next morning chasing nature. Determined to get one Florida paddle board excursion in while we were there, we drove an hour and a half north to partake in a paddle ecotour which had us paddling with manatees(well, one), dolphins(one again), and one large know-it-all jackass who promptly ran his kayak into the mangroves leaving his large mass flailing in the water. Sometimes karma is so beautiful. After paddling, lunch,and a long swim in the Gulf, we met new friends for drinks at the marina then home to our friend. Pina coladas and sunburn on the beach the next day. Rainy Tuesday spent reading, talking, and watching the ibis parade across the yards searching for snails. Drunken, rainy boat ride complete with many dolphins on Wednesday and more beach, shopping, and sightseeing on Thursday. Ending our week with a sushi feast, we were relaxed and ready to come home. After dispensing of the critters camped in my open suitcase, we were packed to go. Trying not to cry, we said goodbye to our sleepy friend, waved at our little mango house and hit the road. After a little adjustment time it was right back to work, jumping in with both feet. Now as I sit on my porch writing I am dreaming of our trip all over again. Florida sits in my soul like a gift waiting to be unwrapped. I dream of the palm trees, the dock on the canal where I drank my coffee every morning, the beach. I miss the Florida smells, the food, the wildlife, but most of all I miss my friend. I hope to make it down again next year, showing my little man all the Sunshine State has to offer. For now, I am happy in the Cle because it is summer and we don't grow our bugs that big. Good morning world.

sorrow

Yesterday my husband and I attended the saddest, most heart wrenching yet beautiful memorial service. A service that left even my one and only sobbing next to me. Death is never easy and lately there has been a lot of it. I, personally, am sick to death of death. I am sick of crying. I am sick for my friend who is a widow at 43. I am sick that my friends next door are gone. I am sick of the sadness that has surrounded me lately. The sorrow that is too overwhelming and left me in bed with a migraine that took 24 hours to subside. I hate that my heart feels too much for these friends that, though not blood, are my family. When I moved to Cleveland in 1994 all I had was a truck of old stuff and a boyfriend that refused to work. When I arrived, my beautiful east side apartment was infested with roaches. Probably would have been good to know before I trucked all my crap to a strange city. None of this held any strong promise for a burgeoning new life. Still I kept at it. I wasn't giving up because I was not going back to the Steel City, no way, no how. After finding a new clean place on the west side I was able to focus on my new job. Now mind you, this was not a career. I didn't move to start any big plans, just see how things went. I transferred restaurant jobs and by the end of my  first day, this wild haired, freckly faced girl and I were fast friends. Realizing that my mess of a relationship was on the down slide, she and I were joined at the hip. Racing from one side of Cleveland to the other. Sleepovers like teenagers. Sunday dinners at her big old house where one could hear the ice clinking in the other room during cocktail hour and her mom made the best beef stroganoff. St. Patty's Day parades with pints and pints of Guinness and her brother yelling "Mr. Sweeney" every 5 minutes because, you know, someone is going to wave back. Ironically, it was probably my future father-in-law. So many memories, so many years. Twenty years I just realized today. Through those years we weren't so joined at the hip because life always intervenes and time gets away from you. But through those years we have stayed the closest of friends knowing one merely has to pick up the phone to reconnect. Now this man whom she loved more than life is gone. My heart breaks for my friend and if I could whisk her back in time to start again, I know she'd do the same all over. They talked yesterday about how adventurous he was, biking all over the world, doing this, doing that yet my friend claimed she was less so. Here's where I have to disagree. Through the years I have known her to take numerous trips abroad, climb mountains in Peru or Chile, one of those mountain places, live in China for 3 months, go back to school, change careers, run races, sail, the list goes on. Adventurous she is, along with brave and strong. She's never run from challenges even when they were too hard for most to handle. Because of this I know she will be okay. When her heart frees itself of the sorrow, she can go on because there are always new challenges and new adventures and she knows I'm only a phone call away. Good night world.

end of an era

Funny how life changes in an instant. This is always the thought when someone dies suddenly. Long illness or cancer you expect death and I suppose as one gets up in years you expect it more, but we're never ready. Going about my day with my five year old in tow, it was a pleasant hump day. Good sales, happy customers, happy child make a good day. Then the news comes. That hangdog look upon my neighbor's face that told me instantly what I already knew. How can this be? Two within two months. You hear of this happening with old married couples, but a couple of barbers? To me these were not just any old barbers. They had worked side by side for almost fifty years. They were family to each other. They took family trips to Cedar Point. Their kids grew up side by side in the barbershop. They had been together through love, marriage, kids, divorce, death. These men were old school Italian tough guys with hearts of gold and mouths like sailors. They couldn't have been more different yet were so much alike. Years together will do that. Today Paul left us. A sudden collapse this morning and by afternoon he was gone. Paul started the barbershop and recently celebrated fifty years. It was a surprise party complete with pasta, meatballs, and our local mayor. The vino flowed and in a flashbulb moment my barber and I were captured in a photograph. A photograph that sits beside my desk. Happier times caught on film. After Joe's death I found it hard to enter the barbershop. I couldn't walk by his chair. Paul knew this. Recently he walked in leaving a trail of tiny hairs in his wake. He said I had been on his mind. This was hard for Paul. He wasn't one to let emotion define his persona. He was cool as a cucumber. Classy like an old film star. Paul was who I turned to when life was too much. He listened without saying a word, without judgement. He would give me no bullshit advice that soothed my worried soul. He was peaceful. He made me feel peaceful. Where Joe was loud, Paul was quiet. Even as my child raced through the shop wreaking holy havoc all over the place, Paul remained quiet as he slipped wild child dollar bills. Unflappable. He had been there done that. He traded a wild youth for the love of his life, family, and his barbershop. Devout Catholic. Florida in January. Simple life, what we all strive to achieve. Ten years I had the honor of being their neighbor. I knew this day would come, feared this day would come. Now that they're gone I feel empty, my heart too heavy for words. There will be no more conversations. No more appreciative looks at my backside. No more stories of younger days. No more Saturday pizza or bad coffee. My guardians are gone. The barbershop is dark. I don't know the fate of this iconic local institution, but I'm sure the young barber will take good care of the place. Either way it is the end of an era. Paul, just like Joe, you hold a special place in my heart. I love you and will miss you. Good night world.

parents: part two

Honest to God, there needs to be a manual on how to deal with one's parents once you hit middle age. Nothing I hate more than that moniker, middle age, yuck. Life is so tricky and complicated at this age. There are so many concerns, children, jobs, parents. I realize these are concerns at any age but at 43 you realize there is an urgency to life that wasn't there before. Before, your whole life stretched out in front of you. Now you hear the clock ticking. With that said, I try to keep the life drama to a minimum. This is hard for an emotional person. It is even harder with an emotional mother. Today was a tough one. Today ended with me feeling beat up, stepped on and just plain low. The kicker is, I didn't start the day feeling this way hence why I'm so angry. Today started with a lovely lazy morning watching my favorite bickering ladies of New York City. I've stated before how much better life looks after watching these crazy housewives. Who can blame them though? A bunch of women thrown together and expected to play nice with one another. Ha! Like that always happens? Anyways, I digress. This is what happens when I'm too emotional, my thoughts wander like a toddler in a department store. I mentioned before my mother is like a hurricane and when that wind whips up, watch out because you are in the eye of the storm my friend. Today I was in the eye. My mother particularly hates when she thinks I'm defending my father. So silly. I love them both equally yet am always having to prove my love to my mother. This makes me beyond crazy. I don't understand this weird jealousy or competition that exists only in her head. They say divorce does strange things to people and I believe that, Amen! No good ever comes out of arguing on the phone, but when one is two hours away this happens. After trying to break through the assault on my ear drums I was left with only dead air. Really?!!! She hung up, again. Come on, aren't we adults here? Ahhh, there lies the rub. This is where the tides turn. Role reversal. One hears of it happening yet it's not until you are smack dab in the middle of it when you realize it's happening now. I suppose part of the problem relating to one's parents at this age is exactly that. The relating. After years of being the child, you grow up and become an adult. This is what every parent wants for their child, to pave the way so they can grow up and live separate from the warm safe womb. I believe this is where the switch begins, when there is nothing left to parent. I imagine a feeling of desperation takes hold. A need to be wanted. A fear of being left behind now that their job is over. This is when a parent needs to understand that their job is never over, it has just changed. A natural course of action for a natural progression of life. For some this is difficult and they hold too tight to old habits. Scolding their adult child for talking back or smoking a cigarette or saying fuck. Yes, I believe in respecting my elders, but if I want to say the F word it is my right as an adult. Same goes for smoking or decisions I make concerning my child. They may not always be the right choices, but they are my choices as a mother and should be respected. I also have opinions. Fierce strong liberal opinions that don't always fly with my conservative father. This too is okay because I was raised to have my own mind and be an independent thinker. All this gets forgotten when the parent is facing their adult child. Supposed unconditional love that suddenly has all these conditions. This is where that manual would come in handy. I could flip to a chapter, see the magical answer and everything would be right in the world. Unfortunately it doesn't happen this way and here I sit frustrated and crying. Crying like the child I've been reduced to when faced with my mother's wrath. 43 freakin' years old and upset because mommy got mad. For the love of God, could this be more ridiculous? Well I haven't found any magical answers and this too shall pass, but in the meantime it sure was nice dear readers, borrowing your ears for a little while. Someone to listen is really all we ever need. Good night world.

parents: part one

Our parents always said, "Just wait until you have kids!" Well now I have a child and finally I am able to  understand what they were talking about all these years. Child rearing is not easy, not one little bit. If you have been keeping up with this little blog of mine then you have read my trials and tribulations with our wild child. Raising him in my shop was not easy and there were times I was not proud of my behavior. I was not always patient and kind and soft-spoken. Our lives were hectic and unstable and the economy had crashed. My husband and I were working two jobs, raising our first child, and dealing with disappointment after disappointment when job interviews fell through. Working in a restaurant was not ideal either for it was a late night lifestyle with an early morning riser. We were shell-shocked and bleary-eyed and thought WTF did we do?! Through the past five years we have quit the restaurant job, accepted, very begrudgingly, the economic state of our country, and realized that just having a job is good enough for now. We are happy, healthy, and oh, this child. This child, my 5 year old going on 15 is the best thing to happen to us. He makes us want to be better, nicer, and more patient. I now know what it feels like to unselfishly give to another. Please, don't get me wrong, there are still times when I want the last cookie or I want to buy myself something new instead of another new Lego kit, but watching the little man's joy over his Legos warms my heart. His joy is so bountiful, so honest. As I raise my son I reflect on my childhood and my parents. Family vacations in the car with the fat basset hound and car sick mother. My father especially loved the puking pit stops he'd have to make. To this day that white church at the beach is forever known as "where mom puked". Fighting with my sister over everything. Listening to my parents bicker, my mother all hurricane fury and my father retreating to his office to escape. Christmas Eve traditions with Nat King Cole and finger food. My mother loves finger food. Friday night pizza. Baseball games with my father. Woody Allen movies where my father would giggle and my mother declaring the actor an ass. Listening to her roar with laughter over Peter Seller's Pink Panther movies. My sister and I every Christmas declaring a truce to sleep in her bed and wait for Santa. Now, my parents are divorced. Two people who loved each other madly yet were oil and water when mixed. All that bickering couldn't keep them together. As I think about their marriage and my marriage I can't help but see similarities. My husband and I are complete opposites. I am the hurricane fury like my mother and he is the calm one like my father. I have often wondered if our fate will be like theirs. I have often wondered if all my manic energy will deplete our love for each other. What I have realized, what makes ours different is that we keep trying. My parents would say they kept trying yet one gave up and the other had no choice. Life works like that sometimes. I love my husband implicitly and have learned through thick and thin, don't give up, for he is the only one for me. Yes, my child's memories will hold flashes of bickering and yelling yet he will also remember dada grabbing mama's butt in the kitchen or us holding hands or kissing in the ocean. There will be road trips to the beach with mama's recently acquired motion sickness and that almost incident on the tea cups at the carnival. There will be dogs and old Christmas carols and fancy finger food. Sports and movies and pizza, there's always pizza. As a parent you want to give your child everything and then some. There are good memories and there will also be bad memories, but they will be his memories. His memories to draw upon as he becomes an adult and starts his life separate from us. So to my son I give him my past, my present, and my future. May he always do the right thing with what he's given and may he never give up or forget to love. Good night world.

spring forward

Today I am writing from the shop. My trusty lap top perched on a mound of clutter lovingly referred to as my crap. Daily detritus like old coffee cups, receipts, cleaning supplies, and old junk that has yet to find a home surrounds my technology. My view south as I stare out my open front door is green-brown lawns almost devoid of snow, birds in the trees by the hospital, and everywhere people bustling about. The temperature today has soared to a balmy 57 degrees hence the open front door. Oh, but don't be fooled. It is not spring, nor is it even warm. The thermostat is still stuck on 70 blasting hot air throughout my 1000 square feet. The afghan with the price tag poking my neck is wrapped around my freezing shoulders. What this is, is hope. Hope that whatever chokehold winter has on this city by the lake, she will eventually release her evil grasp. Now as I stated in my most recent posts, I have enjoyed this winter. I did not even mind the polar vortex/snowpocalypse, whatever we were calling that little bit of nastiness. I refused to complain, not only because plenty of others were already doing it for me but if I gave in, then winter would get the best of me. Coming off a tenuous few months of financial fuckdom, my nerves were a bit raw. After Christmas worked it's merry magic and life returned to normal I couldn't allow myself to sink into any kind of despair such as the winter blues. For once in my life positive thinking worked to my advantage. I took one day at a time, didn't complain, and just made the best of it. Nature will always have her way so it's best just to succumb or move. But we survived. We made it through the worst of the worst. All those temperate winters were just teases. Stored up big snowy loads. Then this winter all Hell broke loose and now it's over, well, almost. Weather reports screaming of more. WTF? More snow, ice, and rain. Yay! That's a fun mix. Well, I guess I say "bring it". Let's get it all out of the way. Let's get this winter business done and over with once and for all. My lilac buds will persevere. As for my little frozen fish, I have my doubts, but soon, yes soon we will peel back the cover and be able to find out. It is always hardest to remain patient when one is so close to achievement and my patience is about run out! So let us dream of thawed lakes and front porch drinks. Fired-up grills and summer vacations. Flip flops and sandy toes. Let us fling open our front doors and stop and smell the hyacinths because believe it or not winter does not last forever and Cleveland, together we are about to spring forward. Good afternoon world.

saying goodbye

Today was a tough day and I'm not talking about the migraine that took root in my right temple. No, today I had to say goodbye to an old friend. Saying goodbye to people who have become part of your life is never easy whether they move away or cease to exist. Over the years I have said goodbye to work friends who were like crazy dysfunctional family members and I loved them just the same. I have lost friends to sunnier locations due to heartbreak and a restless need to leave it behind and start over. I have even said goodbye to friends who have just drifted in other directions as so many friendships tend to do. This friend I lost due to his heart's inability to keep on ticking. My friend was 73 years old and over the years he had become my confidante, my protector, "uncle" to my child, neighbor, and simply my friend. He was always there when I unlocked my door at the shop, well except for Wednesdays. On those days he golfed. He had a twinkle in his eye and a big booming voice that sounded like gravel on concrete. Over the 10 years we got to know each other we shared countless conversations over styrofoam cups of bad coffee.We talked cars and politics and women and men and relationships and kids and family. He loved his family fiercely and was so proud of his kids. He brought me bags of homemade pepper cookies pilfered from his 97 year old mother. He brought souvenirs for my wild child from his many pilgrimages to the land of Mickey Mouse. He rode roller coasters like a 10 year old and probably screamed just as loud. Being a barber he was the only one to keep my child calm as he combed out knotted dreadlocks with promises of candy from the jar next to the cash register. He was my favorite dirty old man. I would walk in and sit in his lap and give him big kisses just to hear him laugh and call me sweetheart in that throaty voice of his. Whether I saw him everyday or not, it was a comfort just knowing he was on the other side of my wall. Now he is gone and just like his empty barber chair my heart feels strange and empty as well. I will give it to the Catholics, they certainly know how to send one on his eternal way. The old school Italian church with it's beautiful old statuary, confessionals and candles granted me peace the moment I stepped inside. The ripe musky scent of incense as the sun poured through the peacock bright stained-glass windows during the strains of Ava Maria was just too overwhelming and there I sat sobbing like a child. I am not an overtly religious person preferring instead to keep my faith internal, but in this church there was God and he was there to welcome my friend. Even the priest was powerless against this beauty as his voice broke over and over while he said mass for this special person. Rounding it all out with a military flag folding ceremony and the sound of Taps playing in the background was a fitting ending for such a wonderful man. A man who loved life, too much perhaps, for in the end it all caught up with him and now he's gone. Oh sure, over time my heart will heal but the barbershop is different now. The empty chair a reminder of what was. I love you Joe, rest in peace. Goodnight world.

snow day

Awaking at three a.m. to the sound of soft padding feet descending our stairs had me in a coma-like confused state. Our mixed-up midnight rambler thought it was time to start his day. Oh no. It's time to get back in bed like the rest of us. Claiming he couldn't sleep I retrieved extra blankets and crawled in next to the little man tucking his warm fleecy body against mine while the wind howled outside his window. Cozy in his single bed, my last thought before I drifted off was please no school. The thought of having to get up in the cold, wrestle with winter clothes, fight the snow, avoid the crazy parent drivers was not quite appealing at this hour. At about 5:30 a.m. my husband poked his head in the room to announce no school today. Ahhh, yes, I can go back to sleep. Lazy morning. At seven a.m. my husband got his alert that school was cancelled. Ok, here we go, yet another snow day. This winter has been heavy on not only snow but family time due to the snow. Being spoiled the past few years by extremely temperate winters, we are not used to this. I'll say this much, we're definitely a closer family this winter. Making the most of the situation is really all one can do to get through these long cold days. We have spent a LOT of time sledding, skating, playing games, baking, cooking. I have made countless cups of hot cocoa to go with popcorn and movies. We have traversed frozen ice waves on the lake and where the beach is supposed to be. Braving freezing winds just to get out of the house. Today will be no different. After another fresh 6 to 10 inches of snowfall last night we will be bundling up in snow pants and coats to fly down another snow covered hill. I should go to work, but really, who's going shopping in mounds of snow. Tomorrow I will open. Tomorrow this will all start to melt. Today I will spend the day with these beautiful boys of mine. We will sled and shovel grammy's driveway and make homemade pizza. There will be hot showers and early bedtime because tomorrow there will be school and although the week starts late, the next 3 days are busy ones. Today though, today is a snow day and since it is most likely the last one, we as a family will spend it joined at the hip. Because these cold days are numbered, age 5 doesn't last forever and there is Devil's Hill to conquer today. Good morning world.

forever young

I don't like getting older. Really, what woman does? How many women do you know that actually say "woohoo, I love my gray hair" or " these age lines really DO give me character". The Hell with that. I don't like my age lines especially the well-grooved two between my eyebrows. Oh sure they give them a fun little nickname, "the elevens". Who thought that up? Just dumb. Well my "elevens" just make me look like I'm mad at the world. Don't even get me started on sun damage. My mother always warned me to wear sun block and watch my face. Well mom, it's there and I love the sun and I love the water and I don't see that changing so I guess I move to the spf 50 this summer. I'll be protected like a red head at high noon. I've written about age before and how I refuse to let it affect me, but as you can see, it didn't work. Age affects you. It affects you every time you visit a doctor and hold your breath because you never had to worry about the scary stuff before. Watching your doctor clam up after seeing "something" on a computer screen, well that pretty much terrifies me. I don't like these forties. Sure I'm wiser, that's a given. You just know more as you get older. You know that the world will always need saving and there are bad people who do bad things to others, but somehow you manage to not let every single plight affect how you live your life. You know that trends come and go and everything repeats itself and each generation that repeats these trends thinks they're the first to do so. Life is funny. We all think we are so unique and different from everyone else when actually we're all the same. Yep, we may look different, act different, smell different, but we are all just human and that makes us all the same. We are born, we live, and we die. How we live is what matters. Throw that age number to the wind and just be yourself. I am 43. I don't feel 43. So what if I was probably the oldest person at Friday night skate. I can still race around the rink as well as the tweens, maybe better. So what if I spent an afternoon watching young angsty vampire movies. I like vampires. Always have, since I was in sixth grade. Only my vampire knowledge started with Catherine Deneuve and David Bowie in The Hunger, way before Anne Rice and Stephanie Meyer. Although I do have to say every time Twilight movies are on the world stops and I am rapt with attention and my husband rolls his eyes at me. "Sled boarding" down a homemade snow ramp is not something responsible adults do, but it sure was fun and my child loved seeing mama be an idiot. Signing up for SnapChat so I can make dumb videos with my twenty-something friends is just fun. My husband and I have spent most of our lives working with people half our age and for this I am thankful. It has helped us stay young at heart. It helps when middle-age life starts creeping in and the bills pile up and job concerns keep my eyes glued to the ceiling at night. It helps to know I can tie on my old roller skates from seventh grade and glide across that polished wood floor without a care in the world. As Alphaville proclaimed in the eighties, "Let us die young or let us live forever. We don't have the power but we never say never. Sitting in a sand pit, life is a short trip....forever young, I want to be...Goodnight world.

for better or for worse

So here I sit, curled up in bed while big fat snow flakes fall outside my window. The furnace hums along, the only sound besides my tapping of computer keys in this otherwise silent house. Ahhh, silence. How easily we take it for granted. This house has not heard such silence in a long time. I'm not going to lie to you, this has been one tough winter. No, I'm not talking about the weather. The past four months have been a never ending struggle of overwhelming responsibility that threatened to suck the life right out of me. This my friends is why my writing has been sparse. I started this blog as a means to vent my frustration with everyday life and the struggles we as a family face. I started this in the hopes that if someone could relate to our situation, even just once, then they would know they weren't alone. The entire country has suffered, is still suffering, and hope tends to fall short. My objective was to restore a little of that hope by writing what I know, my life, our life, kids, careers, and still this crappy economy. I suppose that's a good thing, the still crappy economy, otherwise I'd have to change the blog name. As therapeutic as my writing may be, it is still difficult at times to throw all your feelings and emotions into a media so public. These past four months have been wrought with feelings and emotions. They have been filled with knock-down drag out fights with my husband about our financial situation. Unemployment is downright freaking scary and in today's world we need 2 incomes to make a house, business, and family run properly. My husband is my soul mate, but this my friends, this has definitely been the for better or for worse part. It is extremely hard to look at someone you love more than anything on this earth and at the same time want to punch them in the face for creating the situation. One tiny bit of procrastination and I was living my worst nightmare. I suppose in that respect I'm lucky. Where most women worry about other women, I worry about procrastination and it's consequences. Four months of holding my breath so tight I thought I would choke. Four months of nasty bitterness and resentment directed at this soul mate of mine. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair yet I felt so hopeless, so full of despair, that I couldn't be any other way. My husband took my verbal blows like Muhammad Ali deflecting punches. He was still my rock through all the anger directed his way. He was still solid and kind and beautiful in his heart. He made me wish to be better, nicer, less angry. So much said in such a short time. So many doors slammed. So you see my friends, this kind of emotion is hard to talk about. This is the kind of stuff made for behind closed doors. This is the kind of stuff that also lets you know you are still not alone and we are all in this crazy shit together. Today, my husband went off to work and my child went off to school and life was normal again. Balance has been restored. I can finally see the forest through the trees and I will never give up on this life, this man who completes my sentences. For richer or for poorer this man, my husband, completes me. Good afternoon world, it's great to be back!