So it's Halloween, and our door bell has been consistently ringing since about 5:30 p.m. Honestly, I am not a fan of Halloween...except for the candy which I am so bad about...my dentist will be very pleased.
It's the whole "drop-in" guest thing that really bothers me the most. I don't like anyone coming to my door unless it's been a planned visit -- that especially goes for Jehovah's Witnesses, insurance sales, young people who are supposedly working their way through school by selling magazine subscriptions, books, candy, or their souls. It's not even a result of age...I've never liked drop-in guests, and Halloween really works that nerve.
I do have to admit, the little ones are very cute. They have their little hands into the candy basket and barely get "trick or treat" out as they're grabbing away. That's okay, I guess. Then you have the people who look like they've driven themselves to your neighborhood and don't even bother with costumes...they really crack me up.
I'm letting the little darlings take as much of the candy as they want...the more they take...the less I eat. Besides, when I run out, the front porch light goes out, and we're closed for another year. It usually gets quieter around 8 p.m., although some diehards are still roaming the neighborhood, stumbling as their sugar highs start to wane.
The best thing about Halloween is that the next holiday is Thanksgiving which is my very favorite holiday of all...no pressure to buy the right stuff and spending way too much. Thanksgiving is about the gathering of family and friends and the endless food fest. I like to bake, and this is the time of year I start the oven and pizzelle iron and keep them both going well after New Year's Day.
So, have a safe and happy Halloween. Please don't stop by my house after 8:30 p.m.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Is It Me Or What?
Ok, I have to admit that by writing a blog, I do (often) reveal a lot about what is happening around me and my life, so the whole Facebook bashing may be a bit harsh...or not. That said, I'm still not convinced about Facebook.
Anyway, I am still in the netherworld of the unemployed, and it is a dark, dank place. One of my nieces was laid off last week, and she already has two interviews scheduled for this week. Could the fact that she's over 20 years younger than me have anything to do with it, or what?
Listen, I am totally fine with a salary that is below what I had been making at my previous job...especially considering a job closer to home. However, there comes a point when you have to weigh the expenses associated with a job (commuting time, gas, car and wardrobe maintenance, etc.) and what you have clutched in your anxious fist at the end of the day, right?
The advantage of my being home is that I've been able to assist my husband and son in a huge mailing that he (husband) has created for his business. That's good. And, I've been available to my brothers when they've had medical things and visited my sweet Aunt Dot in the middle of the morning, and even was able to care for my elderly cat before she died. So, Universe, can you cut me some slack now?
May I get a real job, pretty puhleeze?
Anyway, I am still in the netherworld of the unemployed, and it is a dark, dank place. One of my nieces was laid off last week, and she already has two interviews scheduled for this week. Could the fact that she's over 20 years younger than me have anything to do with it, or what?
Listen, I am totally fine with a salary that is below what I had been making at my previous job...especially considering a job closer to home. However, there comes a point when you have to weigh the expenses associated with a job (commuting time, gas, car and wardrobe maintenance, etc.) and what you have clutched in your anxious fist at the end of the day, right?
The advantage of my being home is that I've been able to assist my husband and son in a huge mailing that he (husband) has created for his business. That's good. And, I've been available to my brothers when they've had medical things and visited my sweet Aunt Dot in the middle of the morning, and even was able to care for my elderly cat before she died. So, Universe, can you cut me some slack now?
May I get a real job, pretty puhleeze?
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Social Networking -- in the Flesh
I just had breakfast with four of my college friends today, and it was so great to be with them. The group is really seven of us, but two could not make it, unfortunately. In any case, it was so good to catch up with the other four today.
Do you ever step outside of yourself and the conversation you're having and just observe? As I was talking to two of the women, the others were having a conversation about something else, and I just kind of (metaphysically) shook my head at our ability to be together as one group yet function on different levels of conversations and connections.
Three of us are in our 50s -- two of us are pushing 60 -- one is in her 40s, and the "baby" is just 30 and expecting her first baby soon. Out of the five there, three of us could be a parent to the youngest one, and have kids either close to her age or older. Yet, over the course of the two-year college program we were in, we bonded and created friendships. We may not be at the same place in our lives, but somehow, we've found a common ground with each other, and it's one of the best experiences of friendship I hold dear.
Life is a funny place, and with each path of our journey through it, we touch and are touched by all kinds of people and experiences. Some of sloughed off purposely; others fall of their own accord.
We have to work at keeping connections with each other, and I'm guessing that is the purpose of some of the social networks out there...Facebook for one. I have managed to not get involved with Facebook...it is just too much information for my taste, and it's kind of creepy in a stalker kind of way, as far as I'm concerned. If I want to know more about you, I'll give you a call or send you an email asking you about your life. Send me pictures through the snail mail or on holiday cards or in email. Don't you think that by posting everything friggin' thing you've done in an hour is a bit much? Not to mention, posting your kids' pictures on a public board (yes, I know you can add blocks) seems to me an open invitation to creepy (yes, I've used the word again...it's so appropriate) relatives and the like.
You don't have to see the new movie to know that Facebook was created by college kids for that age group. Now, it appears that everyone and the granny is on it...shouting to cyberspace that they are doing this or that. Hmmm...I do not care enough I'm guessing.
Anyway, I'm just glad that these fantastic women and I have kept in touch. There are new babies to talk about and passings, and just life.
Do you ever step outside of yourself and the conversation you're having and just observe? As I was talking to two of the women, the others were having a conversation about something else, and I just kind of (metaphysically) shook my head at our ability to be together as one group yet function on different levels of conversations and connections.
Three of us are in our 50s -- two of us are pushing 60 -- one is in her 40s, and the "baby" is just 30 and expecting her first baby soon. Out of the five there, three of us could be a parent to the youngest one, and have kids either close to her age or older. Yet, over the course of the two-year college program we were in, we bonded and created friendships. We may not be at the same place in our lives, but somehow, we've found a common ground with each other, and it's one of the best experiences of friendship I hold dear.
Life is a funny place, and with each path of our journey through it, we touch and are touched by all kinds of people and experiences. Some of sloughed off purposely; others fall of their own accord.
We have to work at keeping connections with each other, and I'm guessing that is the purpose of some of the social networks out there...Facebook for one. I have managed to not get involved with Facebook...it is just too much information for my taste, and it's kind of creepy in a stalker kind of way, as far as I'm concerned. If I want to know more about you, I'll give you a call or send you an email asking you about your life. Send me pictures through the snail mail or on holiday cards or in email. Don't you think that by posting everything friggin' thing you've done in an hour is a bit much? Not to mention, posting your kids' pictures on a public board (yes, I know you can add blocks) seems to me an open invitation to creepy (yes, I've used the word again...it's so appropriate) relatives and the like.
You don't have to see the new movie to know that Facebook was created by college kids for that age group. Now, it appears that everyone and the granny is on it...shouting to cyberspace that they are doing this or that. Hmmm...I do not care enough I'm guessing.
Anyway, I'm just glad that these fantastic women and I have kept in touch. There are new babies to talk about and passings, and just life.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Grilled Cheese & Tomato Sandwiches & Love
I went over and spent some time with my Aunt Dot yesterday morning. She lost Uncle Mike just a few days before their 62nd wedding anniversary, and she's determined to stay in the house for as long as she is able.
Isn't it funny that as kids, we have the adults in our lives imprinted in our memories as looking a certain way, being tall or whatever. Whenever I see my Aunt Dot, I'm still taken aback on her fragility. She was never a big woman, but being 88-years-old has made her even tinier. Can I tell you that she is such an adorable woman, and we had a very nice time talking about Uncle Mike and the crazies in the family.
I'm not sure we cherish our elderly as much as we should in this country. The older traditions have given way to the fast-paced world we are in today, and we forget that these people represent our childhood and our family history. If we don't keep in touch with them, we lose touch with ourselves in so many ways. Aunt Dot talked about her parents and her family growing up in West Virginia (seems an odd place for an Italian family, but her dad was a miner).
I brought some sweets from a local bakery, and we had some tea as we talked and laughed and occasionally teared up about those we've lost. For a small little lady, she was able to bully me into a wonderful grilled cheese and tomato sandwich...great comfort food. Just before I was getting ready to go, she asked me if I wanted to "see" my uncle, and we went into the living room where his ashes are kept in a beautful urn. Imagine living over 60 years with someone and then not having them around. I remember how lost my brother was after losing my sister-in-law of 45 years. My aunt and I talked about how men react differently to that type of thing, and how women may cope better than men.
I'm glad my cousins keep an eye on Aunt Dot, and she is very fortunate to have them. I feel grateful that we nieces and nephews have been allowed to share in Aunt Dot and Uncle Mike's love and stories. My kids never knew my parents, but they got a sense of them by being around Aunt Dot and Uncle Mike (my Dad's baby brother), and that's precious to me.
Aunt Dot said that when they were making arrangements for Uncle Mike's remains, the funeral geek (my word...not hers) asked her if she wanted to be cremated, and she told him it wasn't something that...are you ready..."turned her on." I want to grow to be Aunt Dot and Uncle Mike.
Isn't it funny that as kids, we have the adults in our lives imprinted in our memories as looking a certain way, being tall or whatever. Whenever I see my Aunt Dot, I'm still taken aback on her fragility. She was never a big woman, but being 88-years-old has made her even tinier. Can I tell you that she is such an adorable woman, and we had a very nice time talking about Uncle Mike and the crazies in the family.
I'm not sure we cherish our elderly as much as we should in this country. The older traditions have given way to the fast-paced world we are in today, and we forget that these people represent our childhood and our family history. If we don't keep in touch with them, we lose touch with ourselves in so many ways. Aunt Dot talked about her parents and her family growing up in West Virginia (seems an odd place for an Italian family, but her dad was a miner).
I brought some sweets from a local bakery, and we had some tea as we talked and laughed and occasionally teared up about those we've lost. For a small little lady, she was able to bully me into a wonderful grilled cheese and tomato sandwich...great comfort food. Just before I was getting ready to go, she asked me if I wanted to "see" my uncle, and we went into the living room where his ashes are kept in a beautful urn. Imagine living over 60 years with someone and then not having them around. I remember how lost my brother was after losing my sister-in-law of 45 years. My aunt and I talked about how men react differently to that type of thing, and how women may cope better than men.
I'm glad my cousins keep an eye on Aunt Dot, and she is very fortunate to have them. I feel grateful that we nieces and nephews have been allowed to share in Aunt Dot and Uncle Mike's love and stories. My kids never knew my parents, but they got a sense of them by being around Aunt Dot and Uncle Mike (my Dad's baby brother), and that's precious to me.
Aunt Dot said that when they were making arrangements for Uncle Mike's remains, the funeral geek (my word...not hers) asked her if she wanted to be cremated, and she told him it wasn't something that...are you ready..."turned her on." I want to grow to be Aunt Dot and Uncle Mike.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
A Life Worth Mentioning
It seems to me that the creator made a HUGE mistake when divvying up life expectancy. Why are dogs and cats given such a short time on earth and parrots given so much time on earth (no offense, but really).
We recently had to "put down" our oldest cat, Brookside, who was 16-1/2 years old. She was the very first cat that we owned. The kids and I actually got her from the county SPCA during a "woofathon" that they were holding in partnership with a local radio station. Dad, who is allergic to cats, was on business trip when we met this cute little ball of orange and white fur. When I pointed out to my daughter and son that Dad was allergic to cats (we already had a yellow lab at home), their reply was that there are drugs and shots he could take.
Right from the beginning, Brookside made it clear from the start that Rosie (our lab) was bound by the "law of the claw" which simply meant, no flipping Brookside or sniffing where it's not polite or your sweet lab nose will get hit with a full paw of nails. Rosie caught on pretty quickly. The antics of Brookside and Rosie were hysterical. Watching the little kitten bully the larger lab was like a cartoon. They would sleep together and tease each other -- to a point -- and were great pals.
Brookside was my daughter's companion, that is until said daughter went to college. All of a sudden, I had a very determined, bigger ball of fur declaring her rights and placement desires in relation to where my husband and I slept in bed. If I was not position just right, I would have the circulation in my arm interrupted as a nine-pound cat exerted 200-pound per square paw as she waited for me to adjust to her liking. It was a fun and sleep-deprived game.
Over the years, we lost our lab, Rosie, our second female cat, Margarite (with whom Brookside had a love/hate relationship), and added two male cats (Buff--named because of his color and Jake--the younger one taking the role of the annoying brother). All the cats, I might add, were either from a shelter (the girls) or just outside our door (another story).
With each loss, we have all cried and felt the guilt of not being able to fix our beloved pets. Rosie, the lab, died from heart issues at 12 years old, Margarite, the other female cat, died of cancer at 12 years old about a year-and-a-half ago, and now Brookside with lymphoma.
What is the point of such a short life span for such loving little souls? The last four nights, I've "slept" on the living room couch or floor watching Brookside to ensure that she was getting water and some food and was not in distress. When a soul decides enough is enough, they stop eating, and Brookside hasn't eaten since middle-of-the-night Tuesday (and before that since Thursday).
My heart broke for this little cat who bossed me into a specific sleeping position so that she was comfortable to her liking and who bullied me out of my computer chair to the point that we had to get another chair -- both of which she used. Unless you are an animal lover, you have no idea of the depth of love and loss that is involved with living with an animal and making a space in your life and heart for them.
I called my daughter yesterday, who was Brookside's first love, and she had to beg off the phone because she did not want to cry in the middle of NYC as she was walking to the subway.
So it fell on my wonderful son and me to bring Brookside to the vet for the very last time. It was the two of us who brought Margarite just a year-and-a-half earlier. We felt like crap, but knew we were doing more good than bad because Brookside was not living, really. She cried out as she stumbled out of her basket, and that was it. I was not going to wait until the afternoon, she was ready and let me know it.
After the technician took Brook away, we were able to visit an older kitten, Gus, who we had brought to the vet's. Gus is all black, with the exception of a small puff of white on his belly, and is a bundle of love and purring. He had just been "fixed" the day before and was getting ready to be adopted. Then we visited the four very young kittens who were hidden in our driveway wall and discovered as we were doing some landscaping. They toddled over to the door of their cubby, yakking up a storm and tumbling over each other. Between the two visits, we felt a bit better. Nothing like the cartoon antics of young animals to make you smile.
So the household is adjusting. The boys are a bit confused. We have a lot of great memories of our Brookside and the rest. Hopefully, the somewhere after the now has a place for them all. It is a privilege to be part of an animal's life.
We recently had to "put down" our oldest cat, Brookside, who was 16-1/2 years old. She was the very first cat that we owned. The kids and I actually got her from the county SPCA during a "woofathon" that they were holding in partnership with a local radio station. Dad, who is allergic to cats, was on business trip when we met this cute little ball of orange and white fur. When I pointed out to my daughter and son that Dad was allergic to cats (we already had a yellow lab at home), their reply was that there are drugs and shots he could take.
Right from the beginning, Brookside made it clear from the start that Rosie (our lab) was bound by the "law of the claw" which simply meant, no flipping Brookside or sniffing where it's not polite or your sweet lab nose will get hit with a full paw of nails. Rosie caught on pretty quickly. The antics of Brookside and Rosie were hysterical. Watching the little kitten bully the larger lab was like a cartoon. They would sleep together and tease each other -- to a point -- and were great pals.
Brookside was my daughter's companion, that is until said daughter went to college. All of a sudden, I had a very determined, bigger ball of fur declaring her rights and placement desires in relation to where my husband and I slept in bed. If I was not position just right, I would have the circulation in my arm interrupted as a nine-pound cat exerted 200-pound per square paw as she waited for me to adjust to her liking. It was a fun and sleep-deprived game.
Over the years, we lost our lab, Rosie, our second female cat, Margarite (with whom Brookside had a love/hate relationship), and added two male cats (Buff--named because of his color and Jake--the younger one taking the role of the annoying brother). All the cats, I might add, were either from a shelter (the girls) or just outside our door (another story).
With each loss, we have all cried and felt the guilt of not being able to fix our beloved pets. Rosie, the lab, died from heart issues at 12 years old, Margarite, the other female cat, died of cancer at 12 years old about a year-and-a-half ago, and now Brookside with lymphoma.
What is the point of such a short life span for such loving little souls? The last four nights, I've "slept" on the living room couch or floor watching Brookside to ensure that she was getting water and some food and was not in distress. When a soul decides enough is enough, they stop eating, and Brookside hasn't eaten since middle-of-the-night Tuesday (and before that since Thursday).
My heart broke for this little cat who bossed me into a specific sleeping position so that she was comfortable to her liking and who bullied me out of my computer chair to the point that we had to get another chair -- both of which she used. Unless you are an animal lover, you have no idea of the depth of love and loss that is involved with living with an animal and making a space in your life and heart for them.
I called my daughter yesterday, who was Brookside's first love, and she had to beg off the phone because she did not want to cry in the middle of NYC as she was walking to the subway.
So it fell on my wonderful son and me to bring Brookside to the vet for the very last time. It was the two of us who brought Margarite just a year-and-a-half earlier. We felt like crap, but knew we were doing more good than bad because Brookside was not living, really. She cried out as she stumbled out of her basket, and that was it. I was not going to wait until the afternoon, she was ready and let me know it.
After the technician took Brook away, we were able to visit an older kitten, Gus, who we had brought to the vet's. Gus is all black, with the exception of a small puff of white on his belly, and is a bundle of love and purring. He had just been "fixed" the day before and was getting ready to be adopted. Then we visited the four very young kittens who were hidden in our driveway wall and discovered as we were doing some landscaping. They toddled over to the door of their cubby, yakking up a storm and tumbling over each other. Between the two visits, we felt a bit better. Nothing like the cartoon antics of young animals to make you smile.
So the household is adjusting. The boys are a bit confused. We have a lot of great memories of our Brookside and the rest. Hopefully, the somewhere after the now has a place for them all. It is a privilege to be part of an animal's life.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Cleanliness is Next to Not Being Grossed Out, Thank You!
OK...so how many times have you been in a rest room and have witnessed someone NOT washing their hands. That is way up on my are-you-kidding-me-you-cannot-even-take-the-time-to-wash list of really (really!) nasty habits. I revert to a six-year-old and make audible gagging noises at times when I've seen this...ewwwww.
And, the same goes for the gym. Who hasn't seen the "Seinfeld" episode about the sweaty guy who doesn't clean off the machines after he's used them, right? It doesn't take that much effort to get a clean paper towel, spritz it with the cleaning solution, and wipe the handles and seats, and backs and even the TV remote, does it...really? The gym provides these things for a reason. In the large-scale scheme of ewwwy things we touch and breathe throughout the day of being in public places, a little effort on everyone's part can diminish these moments a bit, don't you think?
Of course, on the other side are the people who feel that dousing themselves with perfume helps mask their body odors. Pssssst...they don't, and can make it even worse, especially for those people who are sensitive to over-the-top fragrances. I'm all for smelling clean; I wash and change into clean workout clothes every time I go to the gym, but I'm not pouring the Estee on...it can make your stomach lurch if you haven't eaten anything before the gym. Is it better than body odor? That's a Sofie's Choice kind of question in my mind.
Anyway, I just think people can learn to use common sense when hitting the rest rooms, gyms, and other public places without going overboard with sanitizers which experts say actually kill good bacteria and let the bad bacteria build up resistance. It will be the tiniest things to emerge as the powerful...just check out War of the Worlds (and I don't mean the Tom Cruise one).
And, the same goes for the gym. Who hasn't seen the "Seinfeld" episode about the sweaty guy who doesn't clean off the machines after he's used them, right? It doesn't take that much effort to get a clean paper towel, spritz it with the cleaning solution, and wipe the handles and seats, and backs and even the TV remote, does it...really? The gym provides these things for a reason. In the large-scale scheme of ewwwy things we touch and breathe throughout the day of being in public places, a little effort on everyone's part can diminish these moments a bit, don't you think?
Of course, on the other side are the people who feel that dousing themselves with perfume helps mask their body odors. Pssssst...they don't, and can make it even worse, especially for those people who are sensitive to over-the-top fragrances. I'm all for smelling clean; I wash and change into clean workout clothes every time I go to the gym, but I'm not pouring the Estee on...it can make your stomach lurch if you haven't eaten anything before the gym. Is it better than body odor? That's a Sofie's Choice kind of question in my mind.
Anyway, I just think people can learn to use common sense when hitting the rest rooms, gyms, and other public places without going overboard with sanitizers which experts say actually kill good bacteria and let the bad bacteria build up resistance. It will be the tiniest things to emerge as the powerful...just check out War of the Worlds (and I don't mean the Tom Cruise one).
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