I'm so excited! I'm officially in the market. For a house that is. "We" are officially in the market. Maybe I'm putting the cart before the horse a bit seeing as we don't meet with the mortage banker until tomorrow evening. It is then that we will officially know how much (little) we can afford. It will be such a wonderful feeling to own the place that I live in and I'm just through the roof! It's even more scary that we're doing it together.
I've already started looking a bit and running my findings past the Man and it's so interesting to hear his input, to see what he's looking for in a place. Today he asked me if the townhouse that I was looking at had a garage...it's not something that I would have ever thought of-as I am sans license (but in hot pursuit). He examines the floor plans looking for the perfect layout explaining how he doesn't like kitchens that open into living rooms.
My main concern is a closet space, I've been living in a studio with one closet for six years. I'm tired of looking for creative ways to store my belongings. I'm tired of under bed storage and plastic containers holding last seasons pieces. I'm no Rachel Ray but I can't wait to have a KITCHEN with CABINETS that are big enough to hold more than condiments. I can't wait to use my refrigerator to store actual food inside of tupperware and pots and pans and any other odd kitchen item that I can no longer stand to see out in the open.
I know that there is such a long road to hoe yet but I'm still so EXCITED!!
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Friday, August 4, 2006
Senior Year
Fill this out about your SENIOR year of high school! The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be.
1. Who was your best friend?
Best Gal Pal
2.What sports did you play?
Soccer and Cheerleading. Yes, Cheerleading is a sport, I had the bruises to show it.
3. What kind of car did you drive?
I bummed rides, some things never change.
4. Friday night where were you at?
Best Gal Pals house watching the Knicks and eating whatever wasn't tied down.
5. Were you a party animal?
Not exactly.
6. Were you considered a flirt?
I doubt it.
7. Ever skip school?
Yes, Best Gal Pal introduced me to the Art of Skipping.
8. Were you a nerd?
Not exactly.
10. Did you get suspended/expelled?
Heavens no.
11. Can you sing the fight song?
No.
12. Who was your favorite teacher?
Senior year I don't know if I had a favorite. The most RETARDED teacher was Mr. Scott. If I had to pick maybe Mrs. Schlessinger? she was pretty cool.
13. Favorite class?
English
14. What was your school's full name?
Bellport Senior High School
15. School mascot?
A bulldog and a Clipper ship.
16. Did you go to Prom?
Of course! Looking fabulous as ever with Best Gal Pal on my arm.
17. If you could go back and do it over, would you?
Of course, I wish I could see those crazy kids again for one more go round.
18. What do you remember most about graduation?
Being with the two people I loved most in the world and just having my family around me and Happy.
19. Favorite memory of your Senior Year?
It's all a blur of Good Times...
20. Were you ever posted up on the senior wall?
I signed the senior wall if that counts.
21. Did you have a job your senior year?
The summer before, yes.
22. Where did you go most often for lunch?
Senior cafeteria.
23. Have you gained weight since then?
Please don't make me cry.
24. What did you do after graduation?
Went to college two weeks later (I started early).
25. When did you graduate?
1995
26. Where are most of your classmates?
Pretty scattered actually.
27. Are you going to your ten year reunion?
Been there done that-so glad I did though.
28. Who was your home room teacher?
I'm blanking.
29. Who will repost this after you?
Someone I hope, it would be fun to see the answers.
1. Who was your best friend?
Best Gal Pal
2.What sports did you play?
Soccer and Cheerleading. Yes, Cheerleading is a sport, I had the bruises to show it.
3. What kind of car did you drive?
I bummed rides, some things never change.
4. Friday night where were you at?
Best Gal Pals house watching the Knicks and eating whatever wasn't tied down.
5. Were you a party animal?
Not exactly.
6. Were you considered a flirt?
I doubt it.
7. Ever skip school?
Yes, Best Gal Pal introduced me to the Art of Skipping.
8. Were you a nerd?
Not exactly.
10. Did you get suspended/expelled?
Heavens no.
11. Can you sing the fight song?
No.
12. Who was your favorite teacher?
Senior year I don't know if I had a favorite. The most RETARDED teacher was Mr. Scott. If I had to pick maybe Mrs. Schlessinger? she was pretty cool.
13. Favorite class?
English
14. What was your school's full name?
Bellport Senior High School
15. School mascot?
A bulldog and a Clipper ship.
16. Did you go to Prom?
Of course! Looking fabulous as ever with Best Gal Pal on my arm.
17. If you could go back and do it over, would you?
Of course, I wish I could see those crazy kids again for one more go round.
18. What do you remember most about graduation?
Being with the two people I loved most in the world and just having my family around me and Happy.
19. Favorite memory of your Senior Year?
It's all a blur of Good Times...
20. Were you ever posted up on the senior wall?
I signed the senior wall if that counts.
21. Did you have a job your senior year?
The summer before, yes.
22. Where did you go most often for lunch?
Senior cafeteria.
23. Have you gained weight since then?
Please don't make me cry.
24. What did you do after graduation?
Went to college two weeks later (I started early).
25. When did you graduate?
1995
26. Where are most of your classmates?
Pretty scattered actually.
27. Are you going to your ten year reunion?
Been there done that-so glad I did though.
28. Who was your home room teacher?
I'm blanking.
29. Who will repost this after you?
Someone I hope, it would be fun to see the answers.
Friends Forever
On the phone:
Best Gal Pal: "I was thinking, I'd like to have you in the room with me when I have the baby"
Me: (eyes wide looking over my shoulder)"Who are you talking to???"
BGP: "You. I'm serious, I think it would be fun"
Me: (silence)
BGP: "You know, 'Good times' and all that"
Me: (shaking my head) "I'm sorry, I can't do that, don't you want me to EVER have children? I just can't, I can't.
Best Gal Pal: "I was thinking, I'd like to have you in the room with me when I have the baby"
Me: (eyes wide looking over my shoulder)"Who are you talking to???"
BGP: "You. I'm serious, I think it would be fun"
Me: (silence)
BGP: "You know, 'Good times' and all that"
Me: (shaking my head) "I'm sorry, I can't do that, don't you want me to EVER have children? I just can't, I can't.
Thursday, August 3, 2006
My experience on the Couch
"You have issues with men", my therapist announced one evening.
He said it matter of fact. The way you'd state the condition of the weather outside your window. The funny thing is, it was as obvious as ill-fitting panties underneath too tight pants. It's painfully obvious and yet no one really gets called out on it.
I had issues with men.
In alot of way that night was the beginning to my "ah-ha" moment. You know, the moment when you "get it", finally. It's one thing to feel out of wack. It's another to be able to identify the issue and work at moving on. I truly wanted to move on. I was 22 years old, fresh out of college and a long term relationship and trying to be a grown up. Whatever that meant. I knew it meant mentally healthy and I knew I wasn't that. I turned to therapy as a way to figure it all out. I had begun to feel so sad that I was afraid to cry. I had the feeling that if I started to cry I wouldn't be able to stop. I was really hurting.
It was so liberating to lose myself in tears. Even with a stranger. That whole session I cried.
I cried for the little girl in me who watched her father fall down the rabbit hole of alcoholism. For a mother who struggled to pick up the pieces and create a life for her children.
I had been carrying a burden of responsibility around for a long long time and it was really weighing me down. I LOOKED depressed. I felt guilty that I didn't have to live with alcoholism anymore and yet my family wasn't free. Going to sleep without the fear of waking up to breaking dishes or a pot left on the stove was no longer a part of my life. I couldn't enjoy it though. I wanted someone to tell me it was okay. It was okay to have my own life.
I'd never really relaxed my whole life. It's hard to relax when you live with alcoholism. You have to always be alert and on guard because days and nights can change with a moments notice.
I cried because I didn't have one male in my life that I could depend on. Not one. If you don't count my grandfather who I lost at 12 years old. I never really had. I wondered what having a relationship with your father would be like? To be able to just sit and chat. I never wanted to be in the same room with mine, let alone have to exchange words with him.
I cried because the one man in the world that I thought I could trust had betrayed me. His betrayal was far greater than anything I could ever imagine him doing and I was devastated. Somehow his disloyalty caused me to feel like trash and hurled me into a deeper depression. I'd smile and nod but on the inside I was a mess. I had fleeting thoughts of suicide but I knew that wasn't the answer.
Three years later I was better. I wouldn't go so far as to say "healed" but on the inside I was miles away from the girl who had first walked into my therapists office. I'm so glad that I made that choice to seek help. Since that time I've been able to share my experience with friends and family and some of them have decided to seek out therapy as a way to get through hard times. Sometimes people are going through hard times and they feel like they are the only ones who have had that experience. It's nice to know that you are not the only one.
He said it matter of fact. The way you'd state the condition of the weather outside your window. The funny thing is, it was as obvious as ill-fitting panties underneath too tight pants. It's painfully obvious and yet no one really gets called out on it.
I had issues with men.
In alot of way that night was the beginning to my "ah-ha" moment. You know, the moment when you "get it", finally. It's one thing to feel out of wack. It's another to be able to identify the issue and work at moving on. I truly wanted to move on. I was 22 years old, fresh out of college and a long term relationship and trying to be a grown up. Whatever that meant. I knew it meant mentally healthy and I knew I wasn't that. I turned to therapy as a way to figure it all out. I had begun to feel so sad that I was afraid to cry. I had the feeling that if I started to cry I wouldn't be able to stop. I was really hurting.
It was so liberating to lose myself in tears. Even with a stranger. That whole session I cried.
I cried for the little girl in me who watched her father fall down the rabbit hole of alcoholism. For a mother who struggled to pick up the pieces and create a life for her children.
I had been carrying a burden of responsibility around for a long long time and it was really weighing me down. I LOOKED depressed. I felt guilty that I didn't have to live with alcoholism anymore and yet my family wasn't free. Going to sleep without the fear of waking up to breaking dishes or a pot left on the stove was no longer a part of my life. I couldn't enjoy it though. I wanted someone to tell me it was okay. It was okay to have my own life.
I'd never really relaxed my whole life. It's hard to relax when you live with alcoholism. You have to always be alert and on guard because days and nights can change with a moments notice.
I cried because I didn't have one male in my life that I could depend on. Not one. If you don't count my grandfather who I lost at 12 years old. I never really had. I wondered what having a relationship with your father would be like? To be able to just sit and chat. I never wanted to be in the same room with mine, let alone have to exchange words with him.
I cried because the one man in the world that I thought I could trust had betrayed me. His betrayal was far greater than anything I could ever imagine him doing and I was devastated. Somehow his disloyalty caused me to feel like trash and hurled me into a deeper depression. I'd smile and nod but on the inside I was a mess. I had fleeting thoughts of suicide but I knew that wasn't the answer.
Three years later I was better. I wouldn't go so far as to say "healed" but on the inside I was miles away from the girl who had first walked into my therapists office. I'm so glad that I made that choice to seek help. Since that time I've been able to share my experience with friends and family and some of them have decided to seek out therapy as a way to get through hard times. Sometimes people are going through hard times and they feel like they are the only ones who have had that experience. It's nice to know that you are not the only one.
Monday, July 24, 2006
I always knew it
You Belong in New York City |
 You're an energetic, ambitious woman. And only NYC is fast enough for you. Maybe you'll set yourself up with a killer career Or simply take in all the city has to offer. |
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Disappointment
Sometimes the people who are closest to us are the ones who hurt us the most. I feel weepy today and it's really not any ONE thing, it's all of those things piled up together. Like the fact that I don't have overdraft protection and I'm getting screwed like a cheap whore by Citibank, it makes me really sad. The fact that I just sunk money from my savings into my checkings and it's still negative today because of FEES!! f*&^ fees! What the f*(%! How can you f*n charge me fees on the f*n fees! "F" that s&^#!
Yeah, so uhm-I'm kinda mad about that.
Then there is the whole thing with my nieces. I was supposed to see them this weekend but, now I'm feeling like my sister is going to cancel on me. You know, I've always wanted to be an Auntie in much the same way some women have always wanted to be mommy's. I've never pictured myself as the mommy. In MY daydreams, I'm always the Auntie. I give kisses and candy, I come bearing gifts. I buy cool clothes and give money for birthdays. This is what I do. I love it. I don't love when people let there own "ish" come between me and my girls. I haven't seen them in months. I just want to see my baby girls.
I think my mom is up this weekend. I haven't seen her in months either so it will be really nice to see her. I wish she was closer. I miss my mom.
Yeah, so uhm-I'm kinda mad about that.
Then there is the whole thing with my nieces. I was supposed to see them this weekend but, now I'm feeling like my sister is going to cancel on me. You know, I've always wanted to be an Auntie in much the same way some women have always wanted to be mommy's. I've never pictured myself as the mommy. In MY daydreams, I'm always the Auntie. I give kisses and candy, I come bearing gifts. I buy cool clothes and give money for birthdays. This is what I do. I love it. I don't love when people let there own "ish" come between me and my girls. I haven't seen them in months. I just want to see my baby girls.
I think my mom is up this weekend. I haven't seen her in months either so it will be really nice to see her. I wish she was closer. I miss my mom.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Friday night
Friday I felt like the kid who gets picked last in gym class. No one wanted to play with me. It has been a long week and I wanted to go out for drinks. Heck, on short weeks I want to go out for drinks. I sent the e-mail early in the week to gauge interest, and I got a few bites. A few hesitant, "Sounds like a good idea" were in my inbox by the days end. "Sounds like a good idea" should always be read as, "I'm holding out to see what my other offers are" so I expected a few cancellations. I didn't expect to be begging for companionship on a Friday night but, that is what happened.
On Friday afternoon I sent out an ain't to proud to beg e-mail asking for some confirmations for the evening. I received two responses. They both wanted to do different things. Always one for an adventure I booked them both.
I met Chelsea and co-worker Kim immediately following the witching hour and we chatted about upcoming nuptials as we sipped on our happy hour specials. As the clock struck 7:00pm I rushed to meet Nikia for a showing of The Devil Wears Prada. We were too late, the next two shows that night were sold out. With our plans thwarted we did the next best thing, went to dinner. We went in search of a hole in the wall Italian place called Bianca. Nikia had read rave reviews and after a week long craving for lasagna we headed out in search for a little cheese and pasta. Deep in conversation as we headed down Broadway, we wound up passing Bleeker and had to make a u-turn and head back. Once arriving at Bleeker and Bowery we entered out final destination, Bianca. Bianca is a small Italian eatery designed to imitate your mothers dining room. Small tables are placed close enough together that if you pay attention you can hear your neighbors conversation. Dim lights and candles make for a romantic setting and the dishes displayed on the walls make you feel as if you've come home for dinner.
As we dined and chewed the fat (literally and figuratively) we talked of our presents and futures. Decisions that we're making and dreams that we hope to fulfill. When our stomachs were full of food and our mind of stories we said out goodbyes and made plans to do it again soon.
I'm so glad I begged.
On Friday afternoon I sent out an ain't to proud to beg e-mail asking for some confirmations for the evening. I received two responses. They both wanted to do different things. Always one for an adventure I booked them both.
I met Chelsea and co-worker Kim immediately following the witching hour and we chatted about upcoming nuptials as we sipped on our happy hour specials. As the clock struck 7:00pm I rushed to meet Nikia for a showing of The Devil Wears Prada. We were too late, the next two shows that night were sold out. With our plans thwarted we did the next best thing, went to dinner. We went in search of a hole in the wall Italian place called Bianca. Nikia had read rave reviews and after a week long craving for lasagna we headed out in search for a little cheese and pasta. Deep in conversation as we headed down Broadway, we wound up passing Bleeker and had to make a u-turn and head back. Once arriving at Bleeker and Bowery we entered out final destination, Bianca. Bianca is a small Italian eatery designed to imitate your mothers dining room. Small tables are placed close enough together that if you pay attention you can hear your neighbors conversation. Dim lights and candles make for a romantic setting and the dishes displayed on the walls make you feel as if you've come home for dinner.
As we dined and chewed the fat (literally and figuratively) we talked of our presents and futures. Decisions that we're making and dreams that we hope to fulfill. When our stomachs were full of food and our mind of stories we said out goodbyes and made plans to do it again soon.
I'm so glad I begged.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Dilemnas
Jason to Me:
"How do I explain to my 60 something year old Trinidadian father that I can't do it tomorrow because I have plans with my girl and if I break them, I'm in the dog house?"
"How do I explain to my 60 something year old Trinidadian father that I can't do it tomorrow because I have plans with my girl and if I break them, I'm in the dog house?"
Thursday, July 13, 2006
It wasn't just that she was being a good friend. She was, but it wasn't just that. It was that she was trying to assuage some of her guilt. She hoped the gods would see and hear her penance. That in this act of reaching out (while it was sincere) she could some how free her soul. Then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be kept awake at night hearing a heartbeat that years ago ceased to exist.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
I grew up in out in eastern Long Island. Way east, near towns with names that are hard for you to pronounce. Names that once represented Native American tribes but are now markers of economic status. The distance in relationship to any given town tells the world what daddy does for a living. How well he's able to provide. Mommy stays home in most of these towns, it's just the way it goes.
As much as I never want to go back to live there. I miss what it has to offer. Falling asleep on summer nights with the windows open letting in the sound of crickets doing their thing. Catching fire-flies as a little girl and capturing them in clear glass jars, my own personal night light.
I love summer in the city but I yearn for summer in the suburbs. Walking bare foot in my yard, feeling the cool green grass beneath your toes and the taking in the scent of a freshly mowed lawn. I love that smell. Fresh cut grass is really the best smell. It reminds me of so many happy things.
The best is playing outside and smelling dinner as the scent of fried chicken cutlets with rice and vegetables comes through the kitchen window. Then mom would yell to us to come in and wash up for dinner once my dad returned from work. We always ate dinner as a family at the table together, mom, dad and the kids. I loved that. I want that for my future family. To much time is spent in front of computers and televisions. It's nice to come together and share and fight and be a family if only for 30 minutes a day.
I don't really see myself having a strictly suburban life. Suburbia is often devoid of diversity. I want my children to know how big the world truly is. It's hard to see that behind your chain link fence as you return from private school. I am also well aware that uptown, downtown and midtown have their own caste systems at work, as do all of the boroughs but, it's different. You can still visit a different caste and not feel shunned. It's more anonymous here, it's harder to judge a book by it's cover, old prejudices don't always fly.
I'm feeling nostalgic today I suppose. I want the best of both worlds and I don't think that it's too much to ask for either.
As much as I never want to go back to live there. I miss what it has to offer. Falling asleep on summer nights with the windows open letting in the sound of crickets doing their thing. Catching fire-flies as a little girl and capturing them in clear glass jars, my own personal night light.
I love summer in the city but I yearn for summer in the suburbs. Walking bare foot in my yard, feeling the cool green grass beneath your toes and the taking in the scent of a freshly mowed lawn. I love that smell. Fresh cut grass is really the best smell. It reminds me of so many happy things.
The best is playing outside and smelling dinner as the scent of fried chicken cutlets with rice and vegetables comes through the kitchen window. Then mom would yell to us to come in and wash up for dinner once my dad returned from work. We always ate dinner as a family at the table together, mom, dad and the kids. I loved that. I want that for my future family. To much time is spent in front of computers and televisions. It's nice to come together and share and fight and be a family if only for 30 minutes a day.
I don't really see myself having a strictly suburban life. Suburbia is often devoid of diversity. I want my children to know how big the world truly is. It's hard to see that behind your chain link fence as you return from private school. I am also well aware that uptown, downtown and midtown have their own caste systems at work, as do all of the boroughs but, it's different. You can still visit a different caste and not feel shunned. It's more anonymous here, it's harder to judge a book by it's cover, old prejudices don't always fly.
I'm feeling nostalgic today I suppose. I want the best of both worlds and I don't think that it's too much to ask for either.
Wednesday, July 5, 2006
First comes love, then comes the house...
This weekend after a double shot of Hennessy and too much sun, he asked me to live with him. I stared back at his brown eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. I asked for clarification because, moving into his current apartment with him and moving into a separate neutral apartment with both of our names on the lease are two different things. He meant the former. I would be willing to put the later on the chopping block and come up with some type of pre-nuptial agreement in say the next 6-12 months. Hey, I'll be older and wiser by then right?-I'll be thirty.
All I know if that I can't live in HIS apartment with him. Maybe it's all in my mind but, it's not fair-it's not equal. Then again what is?
The only thing that we can both agree on is that we would both like to own the next place that we live. We don't want to give up our rent stablilized apartments and then sell our souls to pay someone else's mortage. If there is going to be any soul selling we want it to be deeded with our names.
So I guess in my case first comes love, then comes the house...who ever heard of such a thing?
All I know if that I can't live in HIS apartment with him. Maybe it's all in my mind but, it's not fair-it's not equal. Then again what is?
The only thing that we can both agree on is that we would both like to own the next place that we live. We don't want to give up our rent stablilized apartments and then sell our souls to pay someone else's mortage. If there is going to be any soul selling we want it to be deeded with our names.
So I guess in my case first comes love, then comes the house...who ever heard of such a thing?
Thursday, June 29, 2006
I'm feeling like a failure these days. The more it's pointed out to me, the more I fight back. Who wants to hear those words? "Your this, your that". All my life I've had to hear the words. Try to live up to someone elses expections. I live a life of biting my words back. When I lash out it's because I'm tired of holdin it in. It's poisoning me. I'm tired of wearing your labels and opinions, it's tearing me down. Create a place for me in your world as I do for you in mine. I've never asked you to be anything other than you. I play devils advocate because I'm a born debater. It comes out without me even thinking first. If I'm asking you to change, I'll think first. Speak second. It's hard.
I know I'm not perfect but, I want to be. I want to cry when my failures make it from the inside to the outside. Don't find joy in breaking me down. I'm sorry that you're so unhappy that you need to make me feel sad. I'm sorry I'm so unhappy that I need to make you mad.
Lately all I can think about is all the things that I never had.
I know I'm not perfect but, I want to be. I want to cry when my failures make it from the inside to the outside. Don't find joy in breaking me down. I'm sorry that you're so unhappy that you need to make me feel sad. I'm sorry I'm so unhappy that I need to make you mad.
Lately all I can think about is all the things that I never had.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Don't want none of your time...
4 yr old niece: "Hello?"
Me: "Uh, Hi (laughing) Who IS this??"
4 yr old niece: "It's Hannnnnnaaah"
Me: "Oh hi Hannah, does Mommy know that your answering the phone?"
4 yr old niece: "Yes"
Me: (still laughing) "Oh, uhm okay, it's uhm Mar.., it's Auntie Ria is Noelle there? I want to wish her Happy Birthday"
4 yr old niece: "Okay"
4 yr old niece: (yelling) "Noelle, it's Auntie Ria she wants to talk to you"
6 yr old niece: "Why does she want to talk to me? Tell her I'm busy"
Me: "Uh, Hi (laughing) Who IS this??"
4 yr old niece: "It's Hannnnnnaaah"
Me: "Oh hi Hannah, does Mommy know that your answering the phone?"
4 yr old niece: "Yes"
Me: (still laughing) "Oh, uhm okay, it's uhm Mar.., it's Auntie Ria is Noelle there? I want to wish her Happy Birthday"
4 yr old niece: "Okay"
4 yr old niece: (yelling) "Noelle, it's Auntie Ria she wants to talk to you"
6 yr old niece: "Why does she want to talk to me? Tell her I'm busy"
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
rambling
BECAUSE IT'S ON MY MIND
I sweat the small stuff. I wish I didn't but, I often do. I need to always have a plan, I need to be on time and I need the same from you. I don't do well with upsets to my calculated itinerary. Thousands of annoying, whinyquestions are asked and then you stop listening. The way one stops listening after a hearing a baby cry, okay maybe that's a bad example. I don't ignore crying children but, you must get where I'm going with this. We've all tuned out that annoying whatever (in your case, probably NOT the baby).
That is why it's so refreshing, okay refreshing is not the right word. Uhm, that is why it is why Jason is so complimentary to me. He NEVER sweats the small stuff, often times to my own chagrin. If I really take a moment and consider the bigger picture, it's all small stuff.
IN OTHER NEWS
I'll be away this weekend for a wedding reception (they got married last month in Cancun) in Buffalo, New York. I've been to Buffalo once in my life and I vowed to never return. Never say never is true. Tomorrow afternoon I head back for a weekend of celebration. I'm going to make the best of it.
Wednesday I leave for vacation (yes, again) to celebrate My Dear Friend Irene's triumphant entrance into her 30's. It is an all girls week that has been planned since, well...it's been planned since forever. My gift to her is a decent set of luggage. I believe that every woman should have a nice coordinated set of luggage. I mean travel must be done in STYLE dahling. She requested black, I wanted something a bit more bold but it's classic so I agreed. I finally found something stain and dust resistant which is a must because, classic isn't classic when it's dusty and dirty-it's just dusty and dirty and ANYONE can do that!
So we are headed to Mi-ami. It's an annual mecca for Irene and myself. This time we've got an entourage and good times are a guarantee. We've rented a condo with a pool and beachfront access. We're still trying to come up with a signature drink for the trip...something that we can look back on fondly when we return to our real lives.
Alberto has got us shaking in our stilettos a bit. We are all avid weather.com followers this week. I find solace in the fact that the weather forecast is just that, a forecast. They are winging it for the most part. I know this to be true because all day this week the forecast for Miami has been rain and everyday the forecast changes to partly cloudy. I pray this trend continues. Seriously, I pray about weather.
I am so glad that today is the end of the work week for me that, I could do a jig.
Over and out.
I sweat the small stuff. I wish I didn't but, I often do. I need to always have a plan, I need to be on time and I need the same from you. I don't do well with upsets to my calculated itinerary. Thousands of annoying, whinyquestions are asked and then you stop listening. The way one stops listening after a hearing a baby cry, okay maybe that's a bad example. I don't ignore crying children but, you must get where I'm going with this. We've all tuned out that annoying whatever (in your case, probably NOT the baby).
That is why it's so refreshing, okay refreshing is not the right word. Uhm, that is why it is why Jason is so complimentary to me. He NEVER sweats the small stuff, often times to my own chagrin. If I really take a moment and consider the bigger picture, it's all small stuff.
IN OTHER NEWS
I'll be away this weekend for a wedding reception (they got married last month in Cancun) in Buffalo, New York. I've been to Buffalo once in my life and I vowed to never return. Never say never is true. Tomorrow afternoon I head back for a weekend of celebration. I'm going to make the best of it.
Wednesday I leave for vacation (yes, again) to celebrate My Dear Friend Irene's triumphant entrance into her 30's. It is an all girls week that has been planned since, well...it's been planned since forever. My gift to her is a decent set of luggage. I believe that every woman should have a nice coordinated set of luggage. I mean travel must be done in STYLE dahling. She requested black, I wanted something a bit more bold but it's classic so I agreed. I finally found something stain and dust resistant which is a must because, classic isn't classic when it's dusty and dirty-it's just dusty and dirty and ANYONE can do that!
So we are headed to Mi-ami. It's an annual mecca for Irene and myself. This time we've got an entourage and good times are a guarantee. We've rented a condo with a pool and beachfront access. We're still trying to come up with a signature drink for the trip...something that we can look back on fondly when we return to our real lives.
Alberto has got us shaking in our stilettos a bit. We are all avid weather.com followers this week. I find solace in the fact that the weather forecast is just that, a forecast. They are winging it for the most part. I know this to be true because all day this week the forecast for Miami has been rain and everyday the forecast changes to partly cloudy. I pray this trend continues. Seriously, I pray about weather.
I am so glad that today is the end of the work week for me that, I could do a jig.
Over and out.
If you like pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain
A picture is worth a thousand words, I will let them speak.
If you like pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain...
I fell in love...
Set up begins for the wedding.
The Groom.
The beautiful blushing bride.
I Do.
I Will.
Family Portrait
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Billy
Billy was not conceived in love, passion yes, but not love. Billy was born into love though. He has the love of his young caribbean mother who passed on her almond eyes, fair skin and curly brown hair to her son. He is her joy, and has become her first love. This same young boy who was born the first nephew of his loving aunt. The very apple of her eye. She often daydreams of one day having a little boy as beautiful as he. His uncle is often removed from his life but in his way he shows his affection the way uncles often show love to nephews. They engage in occasional rough housing and chat about the latest video games.
He is the first grandchild to his maternal grandmother and her pride and joy. They enjoy a love affair only they two understand. They see one another with love colored glasses and neither can do any wrong.
Billy's life is filled with love and yet he still aches. He aches for the love of a father. His Mother aches to fill his void but in the end she is not a man. Even though she feels like she plays both cards and strives to be both mother and father if she looks in the mirror, she is only mother. Father is long gone.
This makes Billy cry.
In class Billy dreads discussions the lead to daddy talk. Father's Day is approaching and his teacher has reported that he appears depressed, melancholy as she describes it. Mother suffers quietly to hear these reports. She would like to bang down the door of the Father and show him Billy's pain. She doesn't understand how his heart could be so cold, how he could be so uncaring, unconcerned.
This makes Mother cry.
Mother tries to distract him from the absence with activity. He plays sports and excels, coach invites him to bring his father by to watch him play. He learns music and wishes his Father were in the audience at his recital. He makes friends and friends lead him back to daddy stories and the cycle continues.
This makes Mother wonder is she made the right "choice". She is ashamed to think it and puts it out of her head as quickly as it came. She knows the guilt would only be the same.
He is the first grandchild to his maternal grandmother and her pride and joy. They enjoy a love affair only they two understand. They see one another with love colored glasses and neither can do any wrong.
Billy's life is filled with love and yet he still aches. He aches for the love of a father. His Mother aches to fill his void but in the end she is not a man. Even though she feels like she plays both cards and strives to be both mother and father if she looks in the mirror, she is only mother. Father is long gone.
This makes Billy cry.
In class Billy dreads discussions the lead to daddy talk. Father's Day is approaching and his teacher has reported that he appears depressed, melancholy as she describes it. Mother suffers quietly to hear these reports. She would like to bang down the door of the Father and show him Billy's pain. She doesn't understand how his heart could be so cold, how he could be so uncaring, unconcerned.
This makes Mother cry.
Mother tries to distract him from the absence with activity. He plays sports and excels, coach invites him to bring his father by to watch him play. He learns music and wishes his Father were in the audience at his recital. He makes friends and friends lead him back to daddy stories and the cycle continues.
This makes Mother wonder is she made the right "choice". She is ashamed to think it and puts it out of her head as quickly as it came. She knows the guilt would only be the same.
Friday, May 26, 2006
I:
I AM: A big sister, an aunt, a daughter. I am not a mother but I often mother.
I WANT: Happiness. The deepest, widest happiness not only for myself but for those I care about. I want to learn to be selfless and not care what other people think so much.
I WISH: I had followed my heart more on a few things.
I HATE: Beets and "labels".
I MISS: My mom.
I HEAR: the whirr of the computer.
I WONDER: What the future holds.
I REGRET: Having to make that decision.
I AM NOT: Weak. Kindness should not be mistaken for weakness.
I DANCE: In my apartment in my underwear. I'm to shy to really let go in public.
I SING: even though I can't carry a tune.
I CRY: easily.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: happy for you-I just say that I am.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: Jason calm enough for take off.
I WRITE: because I have too. I have to get the words out of my head.
I CONFUSE: easily. I'm a little slow sometimes.
I NEED: to volunteer. What sense is life if you can't improve apon the lives of others.
I SHOULD: really decide what my next life step is and then DO IT!
I START: vacation on June 21, 2006
I FINISH: what I start.
I WANT: Happiness. The deepest, widest happiness not only for myself but for those I care about. I want to learn to be selfless and not care what other people think so much.
I WISH: I had followed my heart more on a few things.
I HATE: Beets and "labels".
I MISS: My mom.
I HEAR: the whirr of the computer.
I WONDER: What the future holds.
I REGRET: Having to make that decision.
I AM NOT: Weak. Kindness should not be mistaken for weakness.
I DANCE: In my apartment in my underwear. I'm to shy to really let go in public.
I SING: even though I can't carry a tune.
I CRY: easily.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: happy for you-I just say that I am.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: Jason calm enough for take off.
I WRITE: because I have too. I have to get the words out of my head.
I CONFUSE: easily. I'm a little slow sometimes.
I NEED: to volunteer. What sense is life if you can't improve apon the lives of others.
I SHOULD: really decide what my next life step is and then DO IT!
I START: vacation on June 21, 2006
I FINISH: what I start.
Dear Mr. President,
(Our president is an ass. I don't feel like I have to defend that statemtent either. If he can do asinine things without giving the American people an explanation well then, so can I. This weekend we celebrate Memorial Day and I salute and support the troops 100%. I'm a huge fan of PINK and I love her latest song Dear Mr. President-I wanted to share it with you.)
Dear Mr. President, come take a walk with me*Let's pretend, we're just two people and *You're not better than me*I'd like to aske you some questions, if we can speak honestly What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?* Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?*What do you feel when you look in the mirror?Are you proud?*Chorus:How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?*How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?*How do you walk with your head held high?*Can you even look me in the eye, and tell me why?*Dear Mr. President*Were you a lonely boy?*Are you a lonely boy?*How can you say, "no child is left behind"*We're not dumb and we're not blind*They're all sitting in your cells*While you pave the road to hell*What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away?*And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?*I can only imagine what the first lady has to say...*You've come a long way, from whiskey and cocaine!*Chorus*Let me tell you'bout hard work*Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away*Let me tell you 'bout hard work*building a bed out of a cardboard box*Let me tell you 'bout hard work! Hard work! Hard work! Hard work!!!!!!*How do you sleep at night?*How do you walk with your head held high?*Dear Mr. President, you'd never take a walk with me*...would you?*
Dear Mr. President, come take a walk with me*Let's pretend, we're just two people and *You're not better than me*I'd like to aske you some questions, if we can speak honestly What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?* Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?*What do you feel when you look in the mirror?Are you proud?*Chorus:How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?*How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?*How do you walk with your head held high?*Can you even look me in the eye, and tell me why?*Dear Mr. President*Were you a lonely boy?*Are you a lonely boy?*How can you say, "no child is left behind"*We're not dumb and we're not blind*They're all sitting in your cells*While you pave the road to hell*What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away?*And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?*I can only imagine what the first lady has to say...*You've come a long way, from whiskey and cocaine!*Chorus*Let me tell you'bout hard work*Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away*Let me tell you 'bout hard work*building a bed out of a cardboard box*Let me tell you 'bout hard work! Hard work! Hard work! Hard work!!!!!!*How do you sleep at night?*How do you walk with your head held high?*Dear Mr. President, you'd never take a walk with me*...would you?*
This weekend THANK a vet, find a bbq and enjoy your American freedom. Men and women died to give you this right.
-Maria
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Real Life
I'm back to my real life. Back to dragging myself out of bed and doing the necessary to present myself to the world. Back to paying bills and scooping cat litter. Back to cleaning up hairballs and doing laundry. Back to my folder of take out menus and an empty refrigerator.
Gone are the lazy days of napping in the sun with a cocktail in one hand. Gone are the days of pool games with Jason and kisses under the Carribean sun. Evening fold down service is gone, I'm my own maid now.
We had a great time-minus the three hours we spent taxied at the gate on our flight to Miami. Oh yeah, and minus the black out in Cancun our last night. Only me, only me. Honestly, it added to the adventure. Even the fact that I had to hold Jason's hand at take off to help him keep calm-all these little parts flavored the trip.
I took a bunch of pictures but have yet to develop the film (yes, I still use film). I actually own a digital camera but still prefer to use my 35 mm. Call me old fashioned...
Once I have them up I will post more.
Gone are the lazy days of napping in the sun with a cocktail in one hand. Gone are the days of pool games with Jason and kisses under the Carribean sun. Evening fold down service is gone, I'm my own maid now.
We had a great time-minus the three hours we spent taxied at the gate on our flight to Miami. Oh yeah, and minus the black out in Cancun our last night. Only me, only me. Honestly, it added to the adventure. Even the fact that I had to hold Jason's hand at take off to help him keep calm-all these little parts flavored the trip.
I took a bunch of pictures but have yet to develop the film (yes, I still use film). I actually own a digital camera but still prefer to use my 35 mm. Call me old fashioned...
Once I have them up I will post more.
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