From ribbons and lace to.... a Master’s degree?

The flower girl at my wedding was only eighteen months. In less than four months she will turn twenty-one.

I want to let you know about this young woman. She is simply put, wonderful. Her sweet disposition has endeared her to everyone, even my sister in Texas who got to carry her throughout the reception at my wedding. We all fell in love with her petiteness, her calm manner, and her curly medium blond hair. At almost twenty-one she is still petite and still has curly medium blond hair.

You have to imagine Jessica, as a young girl, like a doll. Her mother always made sure she had pretty dresses or outfits with matching hairbows. She always was adorable, and because of her size, always being carried by someone.

We do not get to see her as often as when we lived nearby. She lives almost two hours from us. She is in college now, her junior year, still commuting every day from her home. We did get to visit with her last week for her father’s birthday. We had a great time as she filled us in to what is happening with her life.

How can I explain how we are in awe of her? Jessica is on a path to her life. A path that she has made for herself with hard work. She is on the right path. She is the perfect role model for her sister and for her cousins. In 2006 she will graduate with her Bachelor’s degree. In 2007 she will graduate with her Master’s degree. There is no doubt she will accomplish this, no doubt at all.

Was there any at some point? Yes, and she would be the first to agree. From fifth grade on her grades were not stellar. Though she strived to do better, she was an average student with average grades. Not until high school did she stop frustrating about her C average. We all knew how she did her best. She soon realized that not everyone was born to be an A student but it did not have to limit you. She struggled and gave it 100% but C was it; some B’s and an A in one class, but fight as she did, her overall average was a solid C. The teen angst was mild and caused minor grief to her father, all which will soon be forgotten because of how she has adopted to adulthood with maturity and savvy.

Then came college. Something slipped in place and she has raised her average to a B+ and has been accepted into the graduate program of her college. It was not easy for her. She says she still has to study twice as hard and twice as much as other students. Which is why we acknowledge her efforts and are proud of her. We would have been proud of her had she graduated with a C average! Now she is genuinely proud of herself, her effort, and her determination.

This young lady was not deterred from getting into the graduate program when told she needed a higher GPA. She is now taking classes that will allow her to get her Master’s degree one year earlier. She is also working four jobs. She is busy, very busy.

Jessica has been dating her boyfriend Jason for almost three years. The fact that they are still together is another sign of how she has the ability to handle many situations, including a relationship in which they only see each other on weekends. No one is even mentioning marriage because her goal is to finish her degrees first. Smart? You bet!

Whenever my sister (the one in Texas) calls, she always asks about Jessica. She is fond of her despite the fact she has seen her, at most, five times, and always for a couple of hours. She is happy to know that Jessica has grown up to be sensitive, caring, responsible, and still retains the spirit of youth. So are we.

There is something inspiring about a young person who can accept responsibilities, tough though they may be, and still can make you feel comfortable because they are genuinely happy. It comes from a feeling of a job that is being done well, I suppose.

“The willingness to accept responsibility for one's own life is the source from which self-respect springs.”
~Joan Didion

 
It’s Liza with a “z”, not Lisa with an “s”...

Like telling your child that Santa isn't real, or the Easter Bunny, or that the tooth fairy is just a story.... so was this moment between my precious little girl and myself....

L : Mom, how come my Spanish teacher has "pagrino and magrina" spelled different? She keeps spelling it "padrino and madrina", (godfather and godmother).

Me : (Almost with tears in my eyes and very shocked so I have to go up to her and kiss her sweet face) Aww, it's because that is how you have pronounced it since you were a little girl. They never wanted you to change it because it was cute and special to them but the correct words are "padrino and madrina", with a “d”, not a “g”.

I could not read the look on her face, partly because I was taken aback. Partly because I was busy imagining her correcting her teacher. But why was I caught off guard? Why... when it wasn't something to believe in like the Three Kings? After all, her "pagrino and magrina" are real. They are two people who love her dearly. Why did it cause me as much sadness as when we had to tell her the truth about Santa? Grant it, she took the Santa news better than I did, but nonetheless, tears formed in my eyes...both times.

I am somewhat sad. I know why. It is the last vestige of the memory of her childhood, in a way, that will not be the same. I held on to those words with love in the knowledge that they were words she created and she never realized it so it they never were corrected. She has always had this uncanny ability to know when she was mispronouncing words and would “fix” them without my correcting her. When she was in three-year-old preschool, her teacher was impressed with how clearly she enunciated. My mother was upset when she stopped calling her “aguita” (literal translation-little water) and one day correctly called her “abuelita” (Spanish for “grandma”). Going to the “sukermarket” quickly was “going to the supermarket”. Very early on “baba” was a clear-sounding “bottle”. She was not even one year old!

“Magrina and pagrino” is specific only to her relationship with her godparents and not even her cousins use that word with their godparents. She was isolated that way and no one, especially the godparents, wanted to correct her.

I am not this way only with my daughter. To this date I make “peanut chelly samiches” for lunch as my nephew Daniel used to say. The color yellow is still “lello” as my other nephew David pronounced it.

So now she knows the truth. Will she pronounce it the “proper” way. Not likely to her godparents. They will demand the endearing term. I am really not complaining. She is turning into a wonderful young lady. So if she calls her godmother “Magrina” with a “g” not “Madrina” with an “d” that will make two people happy... the godmother and me.

"The trick is growing up without growing old."
~ Casey Stengel

 
Awhile back I came across an anti-Planned Parenthood article asking Catholics and other Right-to-Life supporters to boycott ALL of the organizations and people who support Planned Parenthood or are active with them. Imagine that! Don't do business with Unilever and don't buy their products like Dove, Q-tips, Slim-Fast, Best Foods (and they make the best mayonnaise!), Suave products, Breyers ice cream, Wish-bone, Ben and Jerry's, Good Humor, Lipton, Knorr, etc. Don’t do business with CIGNA, Bank of America, Gannett (which owns newspapers and television stations in the USA), The New York Times, Levi Strauss, Johnson & Johnson, (don’t bathe the baby!), and Adobe Systems, (so don’t open those pdf files on your comp!), among many others.

They want you to NOT watch movies with actors like Kim Basinger, Alan Alda, Matthew Broderick, Sarah Jessica Parker, Morgan Freeman (Ah, I LOVE him!), Jodie Foster, Rosie O'Donnell, Christopher Reeve, Robin Williams, and others I love! Don’t go see the movies in theaters. Don’t rent the movies. Don’t watch them on television. Don’t buy any products that advertise during the airing of any of the movies these people are in. The current Mrs Steven Spielberg, Kate Capshaw, as well as his ex-wife, Amy Irving are on their hit list too. I cannot say if Mr Spielberg himself is targeted but being that he resigned from the Boy Scouts of America board until they stop their discrimination against gays and admit homosexual leaders back into their ranks, I would say it is a good guess that he supports Planned Parenthood. But I am surmising.

They don't want you to buy or listen to music from Tony Bennett, Arlo Guthrie, Cher, Linda Ronstadt (a fervent supporter), Madonna, Barbara Streisand, (Babs too??), Peter, Paul, and Mary, U2, Yo-Yo Ma, and many punk rockers like Foo Fighters (formerly Nirvana), and Red Hot Chili Peppers. The list is huge!

They don't want you to read or so much as buy a book from Maya Angelou, Stephen Jay Gould (one of my Ubby's heros), Judy Blume, T. Berry Brazelton (the famous pediatrician), Dave Barry (love him!), Anna Quindlen (my personal favorite!), and others including Alice Walker (think The Color Purple), and Ann Telnaes, a cartoonist I admire. They include Alvin Poussaint, script consultant on The Cosby Show, so don't watch that either. Oh, and don't buy those tourist books by Arthur Frommer. He is a supporter.

They don't even want you to buy any products put out by Bill Gates!! Come on now!! MSN? MicroSoft? How will anyone even use a computer since it will never run without a Bill Gates product! I guess you will have to use paper and pencils and use the library for information. Just make sure you ask them to ban the books by the above mentioned authors.

They don't like Lee Iacocca. What? Don't buy American cars? (See, now that I can live with.)

What I think is ridiculous is that if you want a list of the entire list put out by _____ (I won’t put their name here because it’s my blog and I can edit out things I think are silly), you have to PAY for it! Yes, that’s right! P-A-Y as in give them money. I was able to read a “partial” list of marked people. So why not just give out the entire list? Give out free pamphlets! Heavens to betsy! What if someone unknowingly buys a product by a "do not patronize" list?

Daniel Maguire, a professor of theological and cross-cultural ethics at the Jesuit college Marquette University, a well-known Catholic University in Wisconsin is also on their list. Imagine that! A former priest! And he tours the country addressing and supporting contraception and abortion. Way to go, Danny Boy!

And surprise, surprise... Betty Ford is on their shun list too. Last I heard, she was a Republican... a Republican married to another famous dude. You know... former president Gerald Ford! Correct me if I am wrong, but he was a Republican, was he not? Hmm, a wayward Republican. Go figure.

The thing is that without all of the people mentioned above, and this is minute compared to their entire list, we would probably have to live like hermits.... and hungry and stinky and bored. I mean, no more Robin Williams? No more Henry Winkler? No Hal Prince? No Harry Belafonte? No Sheryl Crow and Cyndi Lauper? No Pete Seeger?

As for me, I send them my little check. There are many people I don’t like, Bush, for example, and Howard Stern. But I don’t go around telling people not to listen to them. They have that right. Stern, for example, I simply change the radio station when his show is on. That is why the buttons are there! I do not object to my daughter buying CDs with parental advisory labels because that would be silly. My husband and I have had talks with her about foul language. We have told her that curse words are just that... words. We don’t use them (though and occasional one pops out when we get cut off in traffic) but we cannot stop others from using them. I believe that banning things strengthens the banned item or idea. I might have said this before, but if I ever write a book, I hope it gets banned.

Maybe I am a rebel. So be it. And maybe I am turning my daughter into a rebel because I go out of my way to expose her to banned books. I have explained to her my belief in pro-choice. One day she will have an opinion on such subjects and I hope she can make her own choices, choices that are right for her and not what other people tell her are right. I hope she can be strong enough to stand her ground if others taunt her and tell her what she believes in is evil, wrong, anti-Christian, or plain wrong. I hope that if she has children of her own that she can teach them her point of view and respect that their point of view may not be like hers.

I hope I have taught her that there are opinions out there that are contrary to mine and that she has to respect that. That she does not have to agree with them but she should defend their right to say it. Because if their right to say or believe things is taken away, hers may be next. I hope I have taught her that she has the right to express her views as long as it does not infringe on the property, private or personal, of others.

I hope I have taught her that I believe that a woman has the right to decide when she wants to have children (contraception), if pregnant, whether she is mentally, physically, financially, or psychologically ready to have the baby and if not, that there are choices (abortion or adoption). I hope she knows that I believe that young girls who cannot go to their parents for help can get advice and help from Planned Parenthood who will be there for them at their greatest time of need. I believe that educating the young, the poor and the disadvantaged does not promote promiscuity but empowers girls and women everywhere to know their bodies and be able to make smart decisions with information they otherwise would not have if Planned Parenthood was not there. I hope she realizes and believes that choices regarding her body belong to her and only to her.

I want her to buy what she wants. I want her to read what she wants. I want her to watch and listen to whatever she wants. I do not want her to make decisions because someone is telling her what is right or wrong. I want her to do or not do something because that is her choice, and her right.

“If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all.
~Noam Chomsky

 
"Regrets, I’ve had a few.. But then again, to few to mention....."

So goes the Frank Sinatra song.

A few weeks ago my husband and I were talking about regret. I had just finished reading a book entitled Brunelleschi’s Dome about the architect of the cupola in Santa Maria del Fiore, the cathedral in Florence, Italy. I decided to read it for two reasons: (1) I had been to Florence when I was nineteen years old, and (2) it was the place where Lucy Moderatz, played by Sandra Bullock, in While You Were Sleeping, wanted to go. She owned a snow globe with the cathedral inside.

I was talking to my husband about how I enjoyed the book and how Filippo Brunelleschi was a genius; how I was glad to have read about him because he deserves to be mentioned among the Renaissance geniuses like Michelangelo and Da Vinci for his contributions to art, science, and architecture. I also mentioned that I wish I had gone into the cathedral. You see, I have been to Florence and I have the obligatory pictures with said cathedral in the background, but sadly, I never went inside. That got us talking about other missed opportunities from my first trip to Europe.

It has been one of my regrets.

I do not remember why I chose to only sit high above the hillside and view it from afar. Was it my choice or was it the tour director’s choice? Seeing as how I was also in Pisa and chose not to go to the top of the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa, I would bet that I chose not to visit the cathedral. It may have been that for the three weeks that we were touring Europe, we went to visit more churches and cathedrals than the pope himself! After all, other than to worship, which as a tourist you really do not do, you go inside churches and spend your time looking up. The beauty of the churches is heaven bound. My neck hurt by the time we got to Italy and it could have been the reason I did not go inside. At nineteen one church ceiling is like another.

More European regrets...

I did not get a gondola ride while in Venice. Oh, I did take a water taxi and a water bus to get from place to place, but not one of those romantic gondola rides. I probably wondered what the point would be riding a romantic canoe with .... my sister.


I also regret that in Rome, the Sistine Chapel was closed for repairs and would not be open to the public for another twelve years. That was the one ceiling I wanted to see!

Most of my regrets have to do with having had the opportunity to visit a place and then not having gone. The same was when we were in Fort Wayne, Indiana. We lived there for over one and a half years and not once did we go to see the burial place of Johnny Appleseed. That was walking distance from the place we lived!

Here at home, I have not been to the burial places of Theodore Roosevelt, the “Unsinkable” Molly Brown, Frances Hodgson Burnett, or Guy Lombardo.* I have not been to see the “Big Duck” in Flanders. I have not been to the north fork of the east end of the island. I have not taken the ferry to either Fire Island or Connecticut.

In Manhattan I have not been to Ulysses S. Grant tomb. I never went to the observation deck of the Twin Towers. I have never ridden the Roosevelt Island aerial tram.

I have the chance to visit all of the places here at home but chances are rather slim of ever going back to Italy. This is why I now make sure I visit the historic areas and burial places of famous people of the cities I visit. That is why we saw as much of Richmond, Virginia when we traveled there in early June. That is why we drove home via the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel even though we added two hours to our trip.

My regrets are few, as the song says, but I have them. I am grateful they are not the kind of regret that eats away at my soul. The one that comes close to it would be not having had a second child. But even that does not eat away at my soul and I can look at my daughter and feel happy that she has all of our love, attention, and focus.

If these regrets sound petty, so be it! I am glad for the pettiness of them for the alternative would have been too sad. I am only a wee bit sorry, I do not have lament. I guess you can call me lucky.

"I want to live my life so that my nights are not full of regrets."
~ D.H. Lawrence

*Who are they?
· Theodore Roosevelt - 26th president of the United States
· Molly Brown - Titanic survivor
· Frances H. Burnett - author best known for The Secret Garden
· Guy Lombardo - band leader known for his traditional New Year's Eve musical program in Times Square

 
My husband does not keep a journal of any sort even though it would make for the most interesting reading. Even if he wrote down thoughts I would be riveted to the pages because if he wrote as lively and interestingly as he spoke, he would have a best-seller on his hands.

But he does not have one and it is a loss.

It was Father’s Day two days before our daughter turned fifteen years old. Her birthday is significant for her but for us as well as that is the day we became parents. Since my husband has never written down his feelings about being a father I will do it for him.

Ahem! Presenting my husband's thoughts through my point of view....

I was the first one to realize my wife was pregnant. For days she mentioned how her abdomen hurt like a bad menstrual cramp and how her breasts were so tender that she wanted to stop wearing a bra. She was so sure she had some kind of cancer. I realized she was pregnant despite her doctors mentioning how she could not have any children.

The liquid in the little vial turned blue signifying she was pregnant. It was confirmed to us that evening at her doctor’s office when he shook my hand and congratulated me on my soon-to-be-a-father status.

I did not think about the eighteen or twenty-one years of financial support this would mean. In fact, other than eating toast for dinner for a few weeks because my wife could not stand the smell of foods, the fact that we were pregnant did not phase me... not until I stood by her as she threw up every night for three months at precisely 7pm each night. Not even the sonogram picture of the baby phased me because it looked more like a baby lizard, (I will strongly attest that it was not from my side of the family!).

As the baby grew, I would stand behind her while she washed the dishes and hold and lift her pregnant belly up with my hands. I wanted to help somehow.

When our daughter was born by an emergency C-Section (breach with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck), I was the first one to see our beautiful baby girl as she was wheeled in the baby incubator. The next day I was also the first one to hold her in my arms. She was so tiny weighing only 7 lbs 5.5 oz and being 17in long. She had a teeny tuft of hair on top of her head. Wow! My baby! A girl! Not a lizard!

I was the first one to put her in her infant seat. I carried her into our home and put her in her crib. I was the first one to change her diapers. When she fell asleep in my arms I could not help it when the tears fell down my face. It was the most precious feeling of trust and I could not believe this beautiful baby was my little girl.

On a trip to Australia, when she was only ten months old, I realized I was a dad because only a dad would put his hands under her face seconds before she would throw up so she would not soil her pretty pink outfit.

Fast forward to this past Tuesday when she turned fifteen (because that is how it has seemed) . She still has the adorable eyes and dimples and still enjoys playing with me. I realize I do not get a chance to be home as much as I would like and I miss many things happening in her life, but she still wants me in her life. I enjoy tucking her at night and just talking about Harry Potter, Star Wars, X-Men, Gameboy, or her telling me about her day. I get to help her with her math and drive her to her Tae Kwon Do when I am home.

We share the same office and I may not show it, but I love having her there. I miss her terribly when I go away on trips. In three years she will be going off to college. I will be wishing I could be carrying her home from the hospital as a baby. I love the wonderful young lady she is turning into.

Next year she will begin to drive. In three years I will drive with her to the college of her choice. I will one day give her away in marriage. Maybe I will become a grandfather and babysit. I look forward to every stage in her life with a mixture of sadness and happiness. I know I am not alone.

If there is only one thing she can know about me is that I will always be there for her because I love her terribly. She will always be Daddy’s little girl.


"The first man a little girl falls in love with is her Dad."
~Unknown

 
There are things in life that are not illegal and should be. We have the obvious things such as illegal drug use, alcohol and cigarettes sold to minors, murder, or embezzlement. What I am talking about is something different that I'm sure many of you have experienced. In particular, what I am talking about is making a mother cry.

It should be illegal to make moms cry, especially when they are driving an automobile. The punishment should be doubled... no!... make that quadrupled! Yes! Quadrupled!

When a radio station, in this particular case it happened to be Long Island's WPLJ 95.5, plays a song that is notorious for making me cry... ok, ok... I admit... it makes me sob, that is unfair and should be illegal.

WPLJ did not play fair. They played Butterfly Kisses which by itself makes me.... sob, but did they have to make a Father's Day version? Not fair! Not fair at all!

The tears gushed and gushed so I could hardly see the Belt Parkway while driving my daughter to the New York Aquarium. The song was edited with an overlay of the voice of a little girl saying things like "Daddy, read me a story... please", "See the picture I drew? This is me and this is you", "Why is the sky blue?", "I'm getting sleepy. Will you tuck me in?". Throughout you hear little-girl laughter.

Then in the part where he sings about her Sweet 16, a teen girl's voice says things like "Dad, I passed! I got my license!", "Dad! I'm on the phone!" Then you hear a voice saying "Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing the class of 2000!" Off to college she goes.

Then comes the "Daddy, I wanted to call you first. I got that job.", "Dad, I met the greatest guy. He reminds me so much of you", "This is the happiest day of my life". Church bells sound in the background. (sob.... still)

I have never been able to hear that song without the waterworks. Come to think of it, it seems I always hear the song while I'm driving!

Not fair. Not fair at all. Let me contact my congressman to start making it illegal to make me cry like that.

"With all that I've done wrong I must have done something right to deserve her love every morning and butterfly kisses at night."
~Butterfly Kisses by Bob Carlisle

 
Maybe this will change the ad at the top of my blog. UGH! It has one for the *cringe* Republican party! Ugh! In hopes that it will go away, I'm posting a link to an organization I support.

Vote for Kerry!! Click on my link and read how we need a change in government.

MoveOn.org

"To err is natural; to rectify error is glory."
~George Washington

 
Tomorrow, or should I say... today is Mother’s Day. It isn’t one of those holidays that you decorate your house like Christmas or Easter but for some reason it is special to me. Being that I am a mother every second of my life would make you wonder why I enjoy Mother’s Day since I don’t need a special day to feel special. I feel the same way on June 22nd, my daughter’s birthday. That is the day that I celebrate, at least to myself, Mother’s Day. After all, that is the day I became a mother.

I don’t need to receive any gifts on either day and I certainly do not expect them on my daughter’s birthday. My gift is being here another day to see her one more day. My gift comes with every hug she gives me. My gift comes every time she calls my name... Mom.

I love being a mom. I used to be a mommy. I loved being a mommy. Being a mommy went along with seeing my little one climb up or down the steps using only one foot. That always made me smile. Being a mommy meant that if I had to hurry I could still pick her up instead while watching out for little feet that kicked.

Being a mommy meant I could dress her up in cute outfits and make her a bow to match. Being a mommy was seeing her with her blankie while she sucked her thumb a la Linus.

Being a mommy was reading picture books while she sat on my lap and hearing “read it again”. Being a mommy was all about still having to bathe her and wash her hair and somehow still play with the toys that filled the tub and then tucking her in bed. It was about coloring books, Barbie dolls, and of projects requiring lots and lots of glue and popsicle sticks.

I then graduated to being a momma. Not much different than being a mommy except that instead of matching bows she now wanted to wear scrunchees, nothing fancy. It also meant that now she insisted on wearing pants. Being a momma meant showing her how to use the shower. It was about seeing her read books with no pictures by herself. Being a momma meant not needing car seats or booster seats in my car as I drove her to sleep over at her friends’ homes. Being a momma meant hearing her answer the telephone and write down the number of the person that called. It meant still making her lunch.

I am now mostly a mom.

The sandwiches get done by her. No more Barbies. Oh, they’re still there but are now living in the closet. I used to want to reincarnate as a Barbie in my next life with all the accessories she had. Now I just smirk at them when I open the closet. My life is better because in being a mom I have what Barbie never had... the best hugs from her.

Being a mom is different than being a mommy. Now, instead of pointing to bugs she points to the cute guys. A mom means talking about the midnight showings of Star Wars or X-Men. Being a mom means that instead of adding with beans and macaroni, we are graphing algebra equations. Being a mom means buying her the black nail polish. It means listening to Blink 182 instead of Raffi even though she is the one wearing the headsets. Being a mom means having to see the occasional eye roll. It means no more sitting on my lap to watch the scary scenes in Beauty and the Beast because she now sits next to me while watching The Mummy.

Being a mom is sitting next to her in the passenger seat of my car because she is sitting in the driver’s seat learning how to drive.

Sometimes, however, I am still a momma.

When I am, I smile to myself. I get that warm, fuzzy feeling that puts a smile on my face that practically goes around my head! It is then that I realize that though she drives my car in empty parking lots, she is still too young to get her permit. It is also then that I realize, inasmuch as I will be a momma or a mom, she will always be my little girl.

"Who is getting more pleasure from this rocking, the baby or me?
~Nancy Thayer

 
My friend Jeannette and I share similar views on politics and hope our daughters will too. When California mentioned the possibility of getting fourteen year olds to vote, we exhanged e-mail about it. Here is my e-mail to her when she let me know what her two girls thought about voting teens....

Lindley's views on the Bush administration are..... well, let's put it this way... if it's not in her Star Wars books or magazine, then she doesn't care. But since Carlos and I talk about politics, and she is a captive audience, I have faith that she is a little democrat in the making. I do tell her that I hate Bush and why, but I also tell her that she has the right to choose a party to suit her beliefs. She was against the war because she knew that Hussein was not connected to 9/11.

Around that time I had her reading TimeforKids.com that had many articles on the war. She wasn't afraid as many of her friends were.

She's had to do current events and always chooses something to do with animals. She is an avid environmentalist... to the point that Carlos and I can picture her as a Greenpeace activist. That alone sets her off the Republican *cringe, cringe* road. :)

She knows that in the next presidential election after this one, she'll be old enough to vote. It doesn't phase her one way or the other. She will vote for whoever has the environment and animals' interests at heart. I'm okay with that.

For now... she's enjoying being carefree. I like that too. She knows that California wanted to introduce a bill that would allow 14 year olds to vote and her comment was, "That's so stupid! Kids don't know enough to vote. They'll just be like, duh?"

Her comment when I asked her what she thinks of Bush, "I don't know enough of him but from what I hear he's a total idiot."

That's my girl!

Yup, that's my girl!

I think it appropriate to end with quotes from the girls themselves. The quotes are in answer to "Who would you vote for if you could?"

"I don't know. Who's running again? Oh yeah, it's that John Kerry dude and George Bush, right? . . . It's a rather hard decision; they're both d#@*hebags."

"Vote for who? Oh, president? Uh . . . nobody. I don't like presidents."

"....."

~A quote each from the girls, our daughters.

 
News Flash!

In November, I am going to vote for Bush!





APRIL FOOL'S!!!






Note to self: NEVER, EVER, EVER kid around like that! Not even on April 1st!

Excuse me while I go and barf!

Now, where did I leave the soap?

"This is the day upon which we are reminded of what we are on the other three hundred and sixty-four."
~Mark Twain

 
I don’t know about you, but around this household, we know when spring has come, not by the first warm day nor by the date on the calendar. This household does not even rely on the sightings of the robin. Oh, no! We know spring is here by..... ants.

Yes! Ants! And not just any ant. In our home, the very first day we see the mighty carpenter ant... inside our house.... is the day we know spring is actually here. Ha!

According to this year’s calendar, spring began on the 20th. According to those pesky monsters, spring began the next night. Sunday, March 21st, was our official start to spring, when we stomped on our first ant of the season.

Soon to come... the exterminator! Another sign of spring!

I have always been fascinated by ants, and bugs, in general, but I have to admit, I really do not want to share my house with these creatures. Once, one walked on me while I still had my pajamas on and I felt it. I shook the pajamas to get rid of it and only felt a sting. The little monster bit me! I thought I had crushed it in the folds of the pajama but I only saw later that it had sunk its mandibles into the cloth and was not letting go. I tried to pry it off and it just chomped down harder! Well! I pulled and pulled and the little 3/4 inch monster would not let go!

I finally just pulled on it hard enough but succeeded only in dislocating its body from the head which was still attached to the pyjama! Tenacious little one! But... alas! I won! Victory was mine!

I am still fascinated by ants and I will stop to follow one if it has food in its mandible. Last summer, my daughter and I watched as one ant, with a cricket leg in its mandible, carried it to its nest somewhere in a tree in our neighbor’s yard. What a sight we must have been to anyone driving by... two people bent over just staring at the ground!

I do not go around squashing bugs, and much less little ants, but I also do not want them inside my house, especially making a meal out of it!

Ah, spring! I miss January already!

“An ant on the move does more than a dozing ox.”
~Mexican proverb

 
Have you ever, while waiting on a line for whatever, or while traveling on a train, bus, airplane, or just busily going about your business, been touched by a person and though you did not even say so much as a hello, you still remember that person even after years have passed? I wonder how many times that happens to someone, if at all?

This week I have been thinking of such two such people in my life. I don’t know why. In the past years since the following situations happened, I have remembered these people quite a bit.

The First: ( about twenty years ago)

I worked on 38th and Madison and I lived on the west side so I would take the subway to Times Square and then take the shuttle to Grand Central. I would then exit the station at a place on the platform that would leave me just around the corner of 42nd Street and Madison Avenue.

One Thursday, as I was getting out of the staircase, a man wearing a three-piece grey business suit and carrying a briefcase walked down the first flight of steps and sat down. My only thought was that I would never sit on the dirty steps in a suit as nice as his. I went to work.

Usually I would go home the scenic way; I would walk from 38th Street south to 34th. I would walk on 34th Street to Broadway and then I would walk to 96th Street and take the train home from there. On this day, I do not remember why, I decided to take the subway home so I went to the entrance I used. The man was still there! I was taken aback but continued on my way, feeling sad because I figured he was probably fired from his job.

The next day he was still there! This time his jacket and vest were missing and he had a couple of empty beer bottles by him.

The following Monday he was still there! This time his briefcase was gone and there was cardboard spread on the landing as a makeshift bed! His face had not been shaved. I did not even know if I should even say hi or ask how he was.

That subway entrance was this man’s home for weeks. People, including myself, were dropping dollar bills into an empty coffee cup which he ignored... but no one ever took it away from him.

To this day I think of him and wonder if I had just asked if he was okay that first day I saw him, or the second, if he would have stayed there. I was twenty three and not til much later did I wonder what I could have done to help him.

Do you believe in angels?

Have you ever wondered about a time you could have helped someone and didn’t and then thought about how you should have done something? Did you think it could have been an angel disguised as a stranger giving you an opportunity to do a good deed?

The Second: (about four years ago)

I rarely shop at Pathmark in Holbrook, having three other supermarkets within one mile distance from my home, but on this occasion I was looking for something and Pathmark had what I wanted.

As I was walking to the store after having parked my car, a lady with a young child walked up to me and showed me an index card. I read that she was from Slovenia and could not speak English. The card also mentioned that she did not have money to buy milk and eggs to feed her family. Using nonsense sign language I tried to convey to her that I had no money because I paid with an ATM card.

I walked into Pathmark feeling miserable and berating myself for not having petty cash on me. While I was waiting on line to pay, I had a great idea. I would bring the lady into the supermarket and let her choose her groceries and I would pay with the ATM card! I was excited and yet felt upset that I did not think about it sooner.

I was not in the supermarket longer than ten minutes but when I walked outside, she was gone. I got into my car and drove around the parking lot looking for her. Nothing!

I have kept awake at nights thinking about these two people. I have hoped that they are well and that someone with a better heart than mine helped them.

I now make it a habit to carry change. My experiences have given me insight I did not have before. I hope that I will not get caught off guard next time.

Who knows... I may have missed my opportunities to have helped angels in disguise... but even worse... people who really needed help at a difficult time in their lives.

“We are each of us angels with only one wing. And we can only fly by embracing each other.”
~Luciano de Crescenzo

 
When I sit on the left side of the sofa in the family room I can see out the window in the living room across the house.

Every now and then I would get a bit freaked out because I imagined I saw someone looking through the window. Then I realized that there is a small pine tree just outside the window and that it was probably swaying and it seemed like a person peeping through the window. I kept reminding myself to have the landscaper remove it in the spring.

Well, back in January, I walked in the 20" of snow with my camera to take a picture of a huge icicle that was dangling from the east side of the house. It was then that I saw footprints leading from the neighbors’ house to the window of our living room.

Now, it really wasn’t comforting to realize that I had not been imagining someone peeping through our window. In fact, I was rather upset that the girls next door have a need to spy into our home. Three summers ago I unknowingly stopped them from ringing our doorbell and running away. I was looking out the window of the office at a mother blue jay teaching her baby how to fly when I saw the older girl run from our house to hers. That was seconds after the door bell rang for the third time that night and the umpteenth time that summer. My daughter told them I saw them and though they denied it, the ringing stopped.

It was replaced by spying. Less noisy, I guess.

I was telling my friend, Liz, about having to buy or make drapes to keep the neighbor from looking in and she suggested the best thing! “Just make a sign that says ‘I know you are looking at us’ and put it on your window. ”

It may be that the girls are bored and have nothing better to do than to spy into our house or ring our doorbell. I, however, have my theory. I believe they have been hired by John Ashcroft.

It all makes sense now.

“If you mind your own business, you won't be minding mine.”
~Hank Williams

 
Warning: Contents may offend some, so if you don’t believe I have a right to speak my mind on any subject, especially about religion, STOP reading now.

I called my sister this morning to talk about Lord of the Rings winning all eleven of the Oscars for which it was nominated. The conversation turned to Catholicism because she asked if I had seen The Passion of the Christ. Somehow the conversation touched upon how I read a section of a book, Catholicism for Dummies, and how I was trying to find out the differences between Vatican Council I and Vatican Council II. I mentioned how I read that mass was said entirely in Latin only between 1939 and 1958 (and how I may have misunderstood). She then went on to say how Latin is the official language of the Vatican and how she is was skeptical on the point that I read about. I told her that I was only telling her what I read and that the book was written by priests. Her answer to me was, “So? That doesn’t mean anything!”

That reminded me of the time I took my mother to church for a Spanish mass and the priest told the congregation that he expects more people to take communion because they don’t have to go to confession in order to do so. That unless they have committed a mortal sin, they can take communion. Then a friend of mine told me how in her church the priest complained about too many people taking communion without having confessed first. I also know that this isn't particular to the Catholic church.

All of that confuses me. I do not go to mass because I fundamentally do not believe in some of the doctrine or dogma of the church. However, I do not study theology and can’t back up my beliefs enough to defend them and don’t believe I should have to. I believe that is called tolerance... or better yet, respect. But I do think that the church should at least be united in something as simple as communion and confession! I know it is quite naïve for me to expect so since even Mel Gibson doesn’t like the changes in the church made with Vatican II. Should he worry since throughout history the church has accused many of the faithful as heretics for not submitting to their point of view 100%?

What’s the point of this blog today? I don’t exactly know so don’t call me to say that I need to confess or something to that matter. I’ve been told that I am a “lost sheep” that needs to start going to church. The problem is that I do send a check to Planned Parenthood every year. I believe in what they do. I also believe pro-choice is a right. I believe that God created everyone, including homosexuals, and I believe they should have the right to marry. Those three points in themselves, I believe, can have me excommunicated from the church. That’s ok with me. I also believe that my faith is between God and me alone.

For someone whom the church may have issues with, I have been blessed in many ways. I am not in the best of health but I did survive a bout with cancer. I have a wonderful husband who is my best friend, my supporter, my buddy. I have been blessed with an intelligent, beautiful daughter even after doctors had told me I could never have any children. Someone once told me that I was punished by God and only had one child because of my belief in pro-choice. I disagree whole-heartily. I say.. I was blessed with one child because God chose me to take care of one of his angels. So the church may have issues with me but I believe God doesn’t.

Since this blog was a bit on the serious side, I will end with this quote....

“When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized that the Lord doesn't work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me.”
~Emo Philips.

PS. WOO HOO!! Lord of the Rings and Peter Jackson rock!

 
The plumber came last week to work on the leak in the guest bathroom.

He left. There! I said something nice.

"If you can't say anything nice about someone, don't say anything."
~ Unknown

 
These are a few of my favorite things:

· A heated coat closet. Enough said.

· Hot, hot coffee and oven fresh homemade brownies.

· A lasagna baking in the oven, wafting its aroma while I sit in the sunny guest room reading Lord of the Rings.

· Winter outside, comfy inside.

"People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy."
~Anton Chekhov