Slept in a bit this morning, then set out for the Museum of Natural History. Landlords tipped us off to the "A" train, which we can pick up at this charming little station just a half block away, on a quiet and tree-lined street -- NOT the bustling latino commerce district with crowds, horns and shoving.
Not that we want to avoid the NY experience -- maybe we are becoming a little homesick. Anyway, this quiet street was a lovely surprise.
Took the "A" to the museum. Saw IMAX of Jane Goodall and chimps. Saw dinosaurs. Went to the AWESOME planetarium. Beyond awesome. Sooo 3D we felt we were in a star shower.
From the MNH we went back to American Girl Place. Seems Little One's newest 'needed' some casual clothes and had no jeans. Stopped in at St. Patrick's Cathedral. Took pics of window fashions at Bergdorf-Goodman.
Headed to Washington Square Park to keep date with little girl we met on Sunday. Headed up to Union Square to find ABC Carpet & Home, but missed it. Found WHOLE FOODS instead and picked up supper.
Needed the "L" west to pick up the "A" train. Realized, too late, we had boarded eastbound "L" and we were in Queens!!! Had to exit station, go around block, re-enter, and head west.
Finally, snuggled on "A" train and read some Potter. Arrived home, ate, and now Little One is practicing piano and I am blogging. Life is good.
Tuesday, May 31
A Sunday to Remember in NY
On Sunday, we headed south to Ferry Station to meet Elder Son and DIL and darling grandbaby. She is oh, so, beautiful and charming, and I am sure, true to her parents, huge in the cranium as well. I could not wait to hold her. But wait I did, through Wall Street and Courthouses and South Street Seaport. Finally, finally, in the SSS Mall Food Court, she was unleashed from the darkest recesses of her buggy and into my waiting Nana arms.
She fit.
And she gurgled and cooed for me, and smiled. Her smile lit a star in my heart. It's still warm, a day later.
Thank you, God, for answering prayer.
So, after SSS, the 5 of us ventured across the Brooklyn Bridge, and wimps that we are, took the subway back. Too late, they realized, "This is our stop!" and they hopped off before I could get one last kiss from DGB or give one more hug to ES and DIL. Waving good-bye through the etched window of the subway car, desolate gestures.
After all that, Little One and I continued to Washington Square where we saw the coolest street performers and she played in the playground with children who actually live here. Walked through East Village and stopped in deli for cheese, fruit and bread for supper. Took the *bus* back to Washington Heights (mistake) and arrived back at apt after 9pm.
Note to self. Return before dark. Hastening through the streets with her hand clutched in mine, I noticed I was the only woman out after dark. Brr.
Today was all fun. Lunch and shopping at the American Girl Place. VERY nicely done. I recommend this place to anyone with a girl in the family between 4 and maybe 11 yrs old. They had a conversation game on the table at lunch; one of the questions was, "What is your happiest summer memory?" and Little One said, "Just . . . this."
Went halfway up the Empire State Bldg when she changed her mind. Back down the Empire State Bldg and into the gift shop for postcards.
Back to apt to rest and out again to nearby kosher deli/bakery for light supper. Played with dolls, read books, ran downstairs to wash laundry. She is snoring and I am right behind her.
Goodnight.
She fit.
And she gurgled and cooed for me, and smiled. Her smile lit a star in my heart. It's still warm, a day later.
Thank you, God, for answering prayer.
So, after SSS, the 5 of us ventured across the Brooklyn Bridge, and wimps that we are, took the subway back. Too late, they realized, "This is our stop!" and they hopped off before I could get one last kiss from DGB or give one more hug to ES and DIL. Waving good-bye through the etched window of the subway car, desolate gestures.
After all that, Little One and I continued to Washington Square where we saw the coolest street performers and she played in the playground with children who actually live here. Walked through East Village and stopped in deli for cheese, fruit and bread for supper. Took the *bus* back to Washington Heights (mistake) and arrived back at apt after 9pm.
Note to self. Return before dark. Hastening through the streets with her hand clutched in mine, I noticed I was the only woman out after dark. Brr.
Today was all fun. Lunch and shopping at the American Girl Place. VERY nicely done. I recommend this place to anyone with a girl in the family between 4 and maybe 11 yrs old. They had a conversation game on the table at lunch; one of the questions was, "What is your happiest summer memory?" and Little One said, "Just . . . this."
Went halfway up the Empire State Bldg when she changed her mind. Back down the Empire State Bldg and into the gift shop for postcards.
Back to apt to rest and out again to nearby kosher deli/bakery for light supper. Played with dolls, read books, ran downstairs to wash laundry. She is snoring and I am right behind her.
Goodnight.
---Goodnight, new and darling grandbaby. I'm in love. ---
Sunday, May 29
Sunday in NYC
Originally we had planned to go to church in NYC. First we were going to go to 1st Pres NYC, then Elder Son and DIL said we were welcome to go to their church with them. So we were going to go there. Then the crisis happened and they felt too worn out to go to church, and in the meanwhile we had not made plans / found a Manhattan church to attend. So we are pagans today. We did pray before breakfast. :)
Let's see. Yesterday began early as we boarded the bus for Central Park. I am sooo glad we took the bus rather than the subway, as we would have missed seeing the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. We gotta go back to that place!! It's humongous. We just asked strangers the best way to get to Central Park and they were elbowing each other out for the opportunity to help us out. "Here's the best way.." "No, she doesn't know, go this way..." "Actually, you oughtta go this way...." I am always amazed at the kindness of strangers.
So. We went to Central Park and it was awesome. Packed. Saw the rc boats on Conservatory Pond, got hot dogs (yes, hot dogs) from a cart, heard beautiful, beautiful classical music from a street musician playing -- ready for this? a BASSOON. It was lovely. I hope I remember it forever. Little One dropped the map in the pond. Saw a bikini'ed lady having a high-powered business call on her cell phone, yelling, "Yes, Bob, no, Bob, do it this way, Bob..." Very, very anachronistic, but how ny can you get. Saw a zillion ppl walking dogs, pushing strollers, rollerblading, skating, biking, running, rowing. Saw a French lady screaming at a dad & little girl, "Non, non, do not pet zee dog. She is afraid of all," -- and the dog snarling and growling and barking like this vicious wild animal. Went to the zoo. Saw polar bears swim, penguins waddle, red pandas, tamarin, monkeys, and puffins. Little One had her face painted all over. Went back to rent a boat but it started to thunderstorm. Took the bus to the library. Closed. Went back to Times Square, on Little One's request. Stopped at Starbucks for coffee, hot chocolate and some journaling. Went back to Toys 'R Us, spent almost 2 hours there. The line for the Ferris Wheel is about 45 minutes long. Fortunately Little One was as uninterested in waiting 45 minutes as I was. Finally, left that place and headed home. Stopped and got calzones to go, took the subway, and ate in the apartment.
On the subway, a very not clean lady got on the train and announced loudly, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am homeless and would appreciate any contributions you could make at this time. Thank you." I admired her audacity. She sang, "Amazing Grace." Little One leaned over and whispered out of the side of her mouth, "I'm NOT giving her any of my money." "OK," I replied. "Well, maybe I'll give her my change," she said, and handed it into a very, very dirty hand. The woman looked into LO's eyes and said, "Thank you."
For the remainder of the trip Little One was worried about homeless people. "I'm not homeless," she observed.
We sat at the little kitchen table over our takeout calzone and and held hands. I asked if she would say the blessing. "Dear God, please help the homeless lady. Help her to have a good and safe life. Amen."
Let's see. Yesterday began early as we boarded the bus for Central Park. I am sooo glad we took the bus rather than the subway, as we would have missed seeing the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. We gotta go back to that place!! It's humongous. We just asked strangers the best way to get to Central Park and they were elbowing each other out for the opportunity to help us out. "Here's the best way.." "No, she doesn't know, go this way..." "Actually, you oughtta go this way...." I am always amazed at the kindness of strangers.
So. We went to Central Park and it was awesome. Packed. Saw the rc boats on Conservatory Pond, got hot dogs (yes, hot dogs) from a cart, heard beautiful, beautiful classical music from a street musician playing -- ready for this? a BASSOON. It was lovely. I hope I remember it forever. Little One dropped the map in the pond. Saw a bikini'ed lady having a high-powered business call on her cell phone, yelling, "Yes, Bob, no, Bob, do it this way, Bob..." Very, very anachronistic, but how ny can you get. Saw a zillion ppl walking dogs, pushing strollers, rollerblading, skating, biking, running, rowing. Saw a French lady screaming at a dad & little girl, "Non, non, do not pet zee dog. She is afraid of all," -- and the dog snarling and growling and barking like this vicious wild animal. Went to the zoo. Saw polar bears swim, penguins waddle, red pandas, tamarin, monkeys, and puffins. Little One had her face painted all over. Went back to rent a boat but it started to thunderstorm. Took the bus to the library. Closed. Went back to Times Square, on Little One's request. Stopped at Starbucks for coffee, hot chocolate and some journaling. Went back to Toys 'R Us, spent almost 2 hours there. The line for the Ferris Wheel is about 45 minutes long. Fortunately Little One was as uninterested in waiting 45 minutes as I was. Finally, left that place and headed home. Stopped and got calzones to go, took the subway, and ate in the apartment.
On the subway, a very not clean lady got on the train and announced loudly, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am homeless and would appreciate any contributions you could make at this time. Thank you." I admired her audacity. She sang, "Amazing Grace." Little One leaned over and whispered out of the side of her mouth, "I'm NOT giving her any of my money." "OK," I replied. "Well, maybe I'll give her my change," she said, and handed it into a very, very dirty hand. The woman looked into LO's eyes and said, "Thank you."
For the remainder of the trip Little One was worried about homeless people. "I'm not homeless," she observed.
We sat at the little kitchen table over our takeout calzone and and held hands. I asked if she would say the blessing. "Dear God, please help the homeless lady. Help her to have a good and safe life. Amen."
Saturday, May 28
First Day in NYC
OK, so we {finally} arrived in NY after the endless train trip with ANTS in our seats, crawling all over us, in our hair. They actually crawled off of us onto the white tablecloth at breakfast.
But that's behind us . . . we are in ny!!
Elder Son met us at Penn Station. It was perfect...we were coming up the escalator out of the train terminal and I was looking all around, worried, what will I do if I can't find him, and Little One called, "There he is." Warm relief and love rushed all over me. My Elder Son. Smiling, running to us. Afraid I hugged him too hard, afraid he will feel the insecurity and panic from the crisis two weeks ago, the happiness and joy at seeing him after so long. It's been a year-and-a-half since seeing him.
He's -- well, -- he seems so, so...settled. The cockiness has lost its edge to, well, maturity.
He was sweet and kind and so accommodating. He notices I am maturing, too. He caters to me a little.
We had to go in Manhattan Mall as Little One was starving. We had The Beast, this ungodly rolling suitcase. I know the exact dimensions, as they match up with the maximum for carry-on luggage on Amtrak. 27x24x14. Weighs a ton. Well, 50lb is the max for Amtrak, so I am guessing it's somewhere around 49 lb, 14 oz. So we're going into Manhattan Mall and, it's so classic, I hate to admit it.
- - - I - got - stuck - in - the - revolving - door - with - The - Beast - rolling - suitcase. - - -
It was exactly what I wanted not to happen. This was about the time Elder Son took over driving The Beast.
He drove it to Times Square. Through Times Square. Into, through, and out of Toys 'R Us. (We gotta go back to that place. They have a Ferris Wheel inside the store, huge. Empire State Bldg made from Legos. Statue of Liberty from Legos. We gotta go back. SOON.)
He drove The Beast down the steps into the subway station. Up the stairs out of the subway station. Through Washington Heights and to the apartment, excuse me, free apartment, he has provided for me to stay, not a couple of measly days in NYC, but a week. Did I mention it's free?
I had no clue what to expect. I had prepared myself to cope with anything, hey, it's a free apt.
Well, it's immaculate. Cleaner than home. Glossy hardwood floors, no dust bunnies. Clean bath, clean kitchen. Chirping birds out the window. Trees. No coping. It's, well, it's perfect. And, I need to mention this part, it's .......free.
So. We got supper at the local McD's and brought it back here to eat. Little One suggested it; she was too tired to eat there. It was loud and very unfamiliar. We were the only people whose first language is English, and it was packed. 8pm and you could hardly move in there. So we ate at the apt.
Stopped at a corner grocery to get OJ and cereal, milk for today's breakfast. The entire store was the size of our kitchen at home. Really, not exaggerating. It was great. Little One needs to see this! This is how people live!! Not everyone has a 25,000 sq ft. Kroger at their disposal.
So we brushed teeth. Pajamaed. Read a few pages of Harry Potter til I had to say, "I can't read anymore." For once, she did NOT complain. We slept hard.
Now it's 8:30. I've been up an hour, organizing the backpack and studying the map for today's adventures, rinsing out clothes from yesterday.
Oh, yeah. Elder Son and I each gave her $15 to spend. She has $30 and can buy whatever she wants while we are here. She can buy a bunch of little crap or she can buy one big thing to keep. I was gonna just give it to her, figured it'd be cheaper than getting her everything she begs for, and Elder Son said he'd go in halves with me IF we get something in return. I asked, "What? She can't exactly do chores while we're in NYC..." "Math?" he questioned.. "AHA! Journal entries! She balked on the train at the journal entry, and I had to write it down; she dictated it."
So, there in the middle of Toys 'R Us, we negotiated this agreement. She willingly, happily, writes her entries in the trip journal -- he needs a copy when we go home -- and he and I each gave her $15. She had $30 of her own. I wondered if she would run through the store, grabbing this and that.
Why do adults always underestimate their children?
She held on to it. "I might see something I really like later."
Today we go to Central Park. It's Saturday and they will be racing RC boats on the pond.
But that's behind us . . . we are in ny!!
Elder Son met us at Penn Station. It was perfect...we were coming up the escalator out of the train terminal and I was looking all around, worried, what will I do if I can't find him, and Little One called, "There he is." Warm relief and love rushed all over me. My Elder Son. Smiling, running to us. Afraid I hugged him too hard, afraid he will feel the insecurity and panic from the crisis two weeks ago, the happiness and joy at seeing him after so long. It's been a year-and-a-half since seeing him.
He's -- well, -- he seems so, so...settled. The cockiness has lost its edge to, well, maturity.
He was sweet and kind and so accommodating. He notices I am maturing, too. He caters to me a little.
We had to go in Manhattan Mall as Little One was starving. We had The Beast, this ungodly rolling suitcase. I know the exact dimensions, as they match up with the maximum for carry-on luggage on Amtrak. 27x24x14. Weighs a ton. Well, 50lb is the max for Amtrak, so I am guessing it's somewhere around 49 lb, 14 oz. So we're going into Manhattan Mall and, it's so classic, I hate to admit it.
- - - I - got - stuck - in - the - revolving - door - with - The - Beast - rolling - suitcase. - - -
It was exactly what I wanted not to happen. This was about the time Elder Son took over driving The Beast.
He drove it to Times Square. Through Times Square. Into, through, and out of Toys 'R Us. (We gotta go back to that place. They have a Ferris Wheel inside the store, huge. Empire State Bldg made from Legos. Statue of Liberty from Legos. We gotta go back. SOON.)
He drove The Beast down the steps into the subway station. Up the stairs out of the subway station. Through Washington Heights and to the apartment, excuse me, free apartment, he has provided for me to stay, not a couple of measly days in NYC, but a week. Did I mention it's free?
I had no clue what to expect. I had prepared myself to cope with anything, hey, it's a free apt.
Well, it's immaculate. Cleaner than home. Glossy hardwood floors, no dust bunnies. Clean bath, clean kitchen. Chirping birds out the window. Trees. No coping. It's, well, it's perfect. And, I need to mention this part, it's .......free.
So. We got supper at the local McD's and brought it back here to eat. Little One suggested it; she was too tired to eat there. It was loud and very unfamiliar. We were the only people whose first language is English, and it was packed. 8pm and you could hardly move in there. So we ate at the apt.
Stopped at a corner grocery to get OJ and cereal, milk for today's breakfast. The entire store was the size of our kitchen at home. Really, not exaggerating. It was great. Little One needs to see this! This is how people live!! Not everyone has a 25,000 sq ft. Kroger at their disposal.
So we brushed teeth. Pajamaed. Read a few pages of Harry Potter til I had to say, "I can't read anymore." For once, she did NOT complain. We slept hard.
Now it's 8:30. I've been up an hour, organizing the backpack and studying the map for today's adventures, rinsing out clothes from yesterday.
Oh, yeah. Elder Son and I each gave her $15 to spend. She has $30 and can buy whatever she wants while we are here. She can buy a bunch of little crap or she can buy one big thing to keep. I was gonna just give it to her, figured it'd be cheaper than getting her everything she begs for, and Elder Son said he'd go in halves with me IF we get something in return. I asked, "What? She can't exactly do chores while we're in NYC..." "Math?" he questioned.. "AHA! Journal entries! She balked on the train at the journal entry, and I had to write it down; she dictated it."
So, there in the middle of Toys 'R Us, we negotiated this agreement. She willingly, happily, writes her entries in the trip journal -- he needs a copy when we go home -- and he and I each gave her $15. She had $30 of her own. I wondered if she would run through the store, grabbing this and that.
Why do adults always underestimate their children?
She held on to it. "I might see something I really like later."
Today we go to Central Park. It's Saturday and they will be racing RC boats on the pond.
Thursday, May 26
Going to NYC
Okay, so we are going to NY. 8 days. Taking ONE bag. Just Little One and I. Kids' activities. Visiting the family of Elder Son, Wife and Baby. Train. 12 hours on the train.
So many things could go wrong. I could let go of her hand for one split second and poof! shes gone. We could get lost. Miss the connection with Elder Son and have NO place to stay.
When I looked for hotels on Orbitz, Travelocity, etc, everything kept coming up, "no availability." Finally, I called one of the 800 numbers and the guy, the guy actually, literally said, these are his exact words: "Ma'am, New York is full."
"Full? FULL? There's no WAY New York is full."
"Yes, ma'am, it's full. There's a furniture show, there are conventions, and it's Memorial Day Weekend. NYC is ... full. I'm showing 2 rooms available at the Crowne Plaza for $704 a night. Would you like me to make a reservation for you?"
"Well,.....................no. Thank you."
So. If I can't get in touch with Elder Son, I'm . .. sunk. Because. . . New York is . ..full.
I so, so, so hope to have a blast with Little One. We missed our Washington, DC trip at Spring Break when I had pneumonia. My unfortunate incarceration, I've called it. She was very disappointed.
I hope to create memories, memories she'll never forget. Good ones! I have tried to prepare her for this trip, tried to tell her a little about what the city is like. She has no clue. Not til we get there.
So, we're off to NYC. If I can figure out how to dial up my laptop while there, I'll blog from there.
So many things could go wrong. I could let go of her hand for one split second and poof! shes gone. We could get lost. Miss the connection with Elder Son and have NO place to stay.
When I looked for hotels on Orbitz, Travelocity, etc, everything kept coming up, "no availability." Finally, I called one of the 800 numbers and the guy, the guy actually, literally said, these are his exact words: "Ma'am, New York is full."
"Full? FULL? There's no WAY New York is full."
"Yes, ma'am, it's full. There's a furniture show, there are conventions, and it's Memorial Day Weekend. NYC is ... full. I'm showing 2 rooms available at the Crowne Plaza for $704 a night. Would you like me to make a reservation for you?"
"Well,.....................no. Thank you."
So. If I can't get in touch with Elder Son, I'm . .. sunk. Because. . . New York is . ..full.
I so, so, so hope to have a blast with Little One. We missed our Washington, DC trip at Spring Break when I had pneumonia. My unfortunate incarceration, I've called it. She was very disappointed.
I hope to create memories, memories she'll never forget. Good ones! I have tried to prepare her for this trip, tried to tell her a little about what the city is like. She has no clue. Not til we get there.
So, we're off to NYC. If I can figure out how to dial up my laptop while there, I'll blog from there.
Thursday, May 19
A Crisis in Spring
The irony of having a crisis in the spring is, well, the guilt of it all. Our precious newest grandbaby is struggling in a major hospital, and I'm listening to birds in the trees. Pulling weeds. Other than the perpetual cloud over my head, and rushing to the pc to check my son's and dil's blog 50 times a day, things are, well, normal. I feel like a . . . traitor.
She is struggling for life. Ventilator. Feeding tube. Heavy stuff for a 5-month old.
I can't get away til our girl finishes school, next week. So, I'm . . . deadheading the roses. Taking pics of my first peony. Pruning the nandina. Mowing, edging, praying.
So, 7 days til I can be there. Big traitor that I am, here are pics of my guilt:
She is struggling for life. Ventilator. Feeding tube. Heavy stuff for a 5-month old.
I can't get away til our girl finishes school, next week. So, I'm . . . deadheading the roses. Taking pics of my first peony. Pruning the nandina. Mowing, edging, praying.
So, 7 days til I can be there. Big traitor that I am, here are pics of my guilt:
Friday, April 15
Spring~
The first days of spring are such a gift from God. There's a great quote about spring in Charlotte's Web. Wait, let me go find the book . . .Well. Now that I look at it, there's not a great quote about spring. It starts in the spring, that's all. And, of course, as we all know, it ends in the fall. One of my favorite books, really.
I always find myself so shocked when spring begins. When I finally realize things are turning green again. It's as if I lose faith during winter that things will ever be beautiful again. It's such a lovely surprise, every year, to have it suddenly DAWN on me, "Oh, my! Spring is coming!" It's so nice to be naive in that way, not to take it for granted. How special for me that I get this big, surprising gift, every year.
My cat eats cottage cheese. Loves it. I discovered this, this morning, when I had cottage cheese for breakfast and set the bowl down to make a move in my online Scrabble game. She hopped up on the desk (no mean feat for a 19 year old cat) and licked the bowl clean. I keep trying to prepare myself for the inevitable -- I mean, how much longer than 19 years can a cat live?? I just hope she does not die while Sergeant Son is overseas. She was his cat, and I'd prefer he were nearby then it happens.
Well, I'm off to the church to work on the sets for the kids' musical, installing papier-mache mushrooms, etc. Just the normal work in the life of a 49-year old woman.
If you've read this far, you've deduced that I clearly have NOTHING to say, but am trying to live up to my commitment to write in this blasted thing. Maybe it'll be better another day. 8-\
I always find myself so shocked when spring begins. When I finally realize things are turning green again. It's as if I lose faith during winter that things will ever be beautiful again. It's such a lovely surprise, every year, to have it suddenly DAWN on me, "Oh, my! Spring is coming!" It's so nice to be naive in that way, not to take it for granted. How special for me that I get this big, surprising gift, every year.
My cat eats cottage cheese. Loves it. I discovered this, this morning, when I had cottage cheese for breakfast and set the bowl down to make a move in my online Scrabble game. She hopped up on the desk (no mean feat for a 19 year old cat) and licked the bowl clean. I keep trying to prepare myself for the inevitable -- I mean, how much longer than 19 years can a cat live?? I just hope she does not die while Sergeant Son is overseas. She was his cat, and I'd prefer he were nearby then it happens.
Well, I'm off to the church to work on the sets for the kids' musical, installing papier-mache mushrooms, etc. Just the normal work in the life of a 49-year old woman.
If you've read this far, you've deduced that I clearly have NOTHING to say, but am trying to live up to my commitment to write in this blasted thing. Maybe it'll be better another day. 8-\
Friday, April 8
Back at it
Yes, it has been forever since I wrote. There is a reason -- although it may not be a legitimate reason, but hey, it's MY blog, and I guess anything is legitimate here if I say so. My own kingdom.
Last entry was in February. The day after that post, or so, I called the local newspaper, spoke with a perfect stranger (why do we always assume strangers are perfect?) and said I thought I should have a monthly column. Well, of course, we had to go through some formalities. She had to actually see me -- I guess to be sure I had all my teeth, and all my marbles, as well. She had to read some samples of my writing (two of the samples are in the blog, titled, "Hmph" and "Eddie"). We talked and I guess she found me if not brilliant, at least articulate. Must've been a good day. So. Now I have a monthly column. And so, my quasi-legitimate reason for not writing here, lately, is that I've been getting organized and writing, there.
It's kind of fun, writing for the paper. I wish my dad were alive to read it. Scratch that. He'd only tell me how to do it better, "you should've done this and that," and then I would hear from 100 people that he's bragging all around town about it. Yet, it does in some way make me feel closer to my dad. Which is no small feat. I never felt close to him, always wanted to.
It's fun because, every time I ask someone a question and say, "I'm writing a column for the paper," they get all perky and try to be wise with their words. It's kind of flattering even if the attention isn't really for me, it's so they'll look good in print.
It's fun because, no matter how early I start, I'm always adding another word or removing another comma the very day of the deadline --- and I have a whole month to get it done -- but still there I am, at the last minute, working on a last detail, before sending it in. I asked my editor (get that? My editor) why I do it, speaking rhetorically, of course, and she replied, "Because you're a writer, of course." You're a writer." <>
And, the last reason is, friends are finally beginning to catch on. To turn to the page on the day and see the thing. To call and say, "Saw your thing." My best girlfriend actually asked me, "Did YOU really write that?" I think she thinks all I can write is crap. No, I really can write, well, sometimes.
And so, I have neglected my little blog. I've missed telling you about Sergeant Son being bombed at Abu Ghraib Prison, and our four-day vigil waiting to hear if he's okay. (He's okay.) I've missed telling you about being in the hospital for four days with a very high fever. They found nothing, but I met some very cool people. At one point, I was in Isolation for 18 hours and finally, flat on my back, I called to the ceiling, "OK, God, you have my absolute attention. What is it you wanted to tell me???"
I believe I'm used enough to the paper thing that now I can manage both. Check it out soon and see. Til then.
Last entry was in February. The day after that post, or so, I called the local newspaper, spoke with a perfect stranger (why do we always assume strangers are perfect?) and said I thought I should have a monthly column. Well, of course, we had to go through some formalities. She had to actually see me -- I guess to be sure I had all my teeth, and all my marbles, as well. She had to read some samples of my writing (two of the samples are in the blog, titled, "Hmph" and "Eddie"). We talked and I guess she found me if not brilliant, at least articulate. Must've been a good day. So. Now I have a monthly column. And so, my quasi-legitimate reason for not writing here, lately, is that I've been getting organized and writing, there.
It's kind of fun, writing for the paper. I wish my dad were alive to read it. Scratch that. He'd only tell me how to do it better, "you should've done this and that," and then I would hear from 100 people that he's bragging all around town about it. Yet, it does in some way make me feel closer to my dad. Which is no small feat. I never felt close to him, always wanted to.
It's fun because, every time I ask someone a question and say, "I'm writing a column for the paper," they get all perky and try to be wise with their words. It's kind of flattering even if the attention isn't really for me, it's so they'll look good in print.
It's fun because, no matter how early I start, I'm always adding another word or removing another comma the very day of the deadline --- and I have a whole month to get it done -- but still there I am, at the last minute, working on a last detail, before sending it in. I asked my editor (get that? My editor) why I do it, speaking rhetorically, of course, and she replied, "Because you're a writer, of course." You're a writer." <
And, the last reason is, friends are finally beginning to catch on. To turn to the page on the day and see the thing. To call and say, "Saw your thing." My best girlfriend actually asked me, "Did YOU really write that?" I think she thinks all I can write is crap. No, I really can write, well, sometimes.
And so, I have neglected my little blog. I've missed telling you about Sergeant Son being bombed at Abu Ghraib Prison, and our four-day vigil waiting to hear if he's okay. (He's okay.) I've missed telling you about being in the hospital for four days with a very high fever. They found nothing, but I met some very cool people. At one point, I was in Isolation for 18 hours and finally, flat on my back, I called to the ceiling, "OK, God, you have my absolute attention. What is it you wanted to tell me???"
I believe I'm used enough to the paper thing that now I can manage both. Check it out soon and see. Til then.
Sunday, February 13
Saying Good-Bye
Ok, here's the deal. My son, my sweet, sweet son, (whom I still think of as a little boy, regardless of his three babies and wife, sorry, son) is going to war for the THIRD time in TWO years, in ten days.
He and his family came to spend a few days, last weekend, and we went for a quick day-trip today for one more good-bye. He leaves a week from Wednesday. The odd thing today was how . . . normal everyone behaves at a time like this, when we could be saying good-bye for THE LAST TIME.
How is a Mom supposed to feel? Proud, I imagine. Yes, I do feel proud of him, but I am afraid that my pride is overwhelmed by sadness, and anger. Anger that he has to go. That the damned Yahoo headlines broadcast numerous deaths EACH AND EVERY DAY in Iraq, that his brave and noble wife has to care for the three little ones on her own while he's gone.
This is the boy who brought me chocolate ice cream when I had bad hair days. Who proudly brought me beautiful drawings from art class. Who, Marine machismo notwithstanding, has learned to cross stitch, knit, sew, change diapers, and a billion zillion other things that offered a challenge to his brain. Who also ran the Marine marathon, cut off a finger building a cradle for his firstborn, and haggles with the best of 'em when buying a new car. Proudly kisses his babies. Jokes endlessly. Creates. Cheats at Scrabble (and Boggle, when needed. . .) Bakes cheesecakes. Borrowed my biography of Buckminster Fuller and gave me a math puzzle book for ransom on it.
God, this young man would be missed by SO MANY, if anything were to happen to him. He had to go through dead bodies in Afghanistan to investigate bombings, yet came home with the same zany sense of humor that he left with. God, PLEASE protect my child. PLEASE, I boldly ask you, shield him in a bubble of Your Grace and Protection., just like the clear thing around Wonder Woman in the comics. PLEASE keep him safe, on his flight, when he lands, and on a daily basis as he serves his country.
So many men and women have been wasted through this stupid, egotistical, greedy, oil-gluttonous war. Each of them had a family who loved him as well as we love our Marine. Please, God, help someone, anyone, to have a CLUE and stop the madness.
This son worked with his own sons this week to make a colorful paper chain. The paper chain encircles their breakfast room, and there are as many links as days he will be gone. The boys are to remove a link each day until daddy comes home. They will see the chain grow shorter and shorter until the day comes for his return. How like him to think of this beautiful and tangible sign for his children. How like him to take the time to complete it with them.
We love my son and we all need him, whole. Complete. Healthy. And . . . alive.
Please, God, I ask you boldly. Protect my son.
He and his family came to spend a few days, last weekend, and we went for a quick day-trip today for one more good-bye. He leaves a week from Wednesday. The odd thing today was how . . . normal everyone behaves at a time like this, when we could be saying good-bye for THE LAST TIME.
How is a Mom supposed to feel? Proud, I imagine. Yes, I do feel proud of him, but I am afraid that my pride is overwhelmed by sadness, and anger. Anger that he has to go. That the damned Yahoo headlines broadcast numerous deaths EACH AND EVERY DAY in Iraq, that his brave and noble wife has to care for the three little ones on her own while he's gone.
This is the boy who brought me chocolate ice cream when I had bad hair days. Who proudly brought me beautiful drawings from art class. Who, Marine machismo notwithstanding, has learned to cross stitch, knit, sew, change diapers, and a billion zillion other things that offered a challenge to his brain. Who also ran the Marine marathon, cut off a finger building a cradle for his firstborn, and haggles with the best of 'em when buying a new car. Proudly kisses his babies. Jokes endlessly. Creates. Cheats at Scrabble (and Boggle, when needed. . .) Bakes cheesecakes. Borrowed my biography of Buckminster Fuller and gave me a math puzzle book for ransom on it.
God, this young man would be missed by SO MANY, if anything were to happen to him. He had to go through dead bodies in Afghanistan to investigate bombings, yet came home with the same zany sense of humor that he left with. God, PLEASE protect my child. PLEASE, I boldly ask you, shield him in a bubble of Your Grace and Protection., just like the clear thing around Wonder Woman in the comics. PLEASE keep him safe, on his flight, when he lands, and on a daily basis as he serves his country.
So many men and women have been wasted through this stupid, egotistical, greedy, oil-gluttonous war. Each of them had a family who loved him as well as we love our Marine. Please, God, help someone, anyone, to have a CLUE and stop the madness.
This son worked with his own sons this week to make a colorful paper chain. The paper chain encircles their breakfast room, and there are as many links as days he will be gone. The boys are to remove a link each day until daddy comes home. They will see the chain grow shorter and shorter until the day comes for his return. How like him to think of this beautiful and tangible sign for his children. How like him to take the time to complete it with them.
We love my son and we all need him, whole. Complete. Healthy. And . . . alive.
Please, God, I ask you boldly. Protect my son.
Wednesday, February 9
More Rules
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the rules for life with which I've become comfortable over several years of living. They're not rules for anyone else; rather, they are my own 'comfort nest.' While washing dishes, or mopping floors, or driving -- yeah, driving is a good one, more of my own rules have occurred to me, and in the interest of completion, I am adding them here. You hate to go day to day knowing that you've left something done half-assed.
Let's see, what number did I leave off with? Hang on -- I'll go check. OK. Back. Whew. Quick trip into blogland. Last one was number 7.
8. One olive is plenty for a martini. Two is greedy, and the bartender who strings four onto the little colored sword is just looking for a tip. (Four is how many will fit on the dagger.) The customer who eats them all is just a pretentious fool. One is the perfect touch, and yes, you can eat the one, but eat it s-l-0-w-l-y.
9. Speaking of martinis, there's no need to mess one up with too much vermouth. You never add vermouth to a martini. You pour it into the empty glass, swirl it around, and pour it out. This leaves just a film of vermouth in the glass, which is all you need. Then add the gin, preferably from the freezer.
10. To those of you who know me, yes, I really did quit drinking, but hey, I still CARE about the proper martini. If not for me, there might be dolts out there drinking vermouth-y martinis with the colored sword loaded to the hilt with olives. Poor taste.
11. Again for those of you who know me, you know I'm on this big economy kick, about time, you say, after I've been . . . well, 'bleeding cash' is how my dear eldest son once said it -- for oh so many years. Well, to have a healthy outlook on it, it's about time I began to do a little catching up, isn't it? So. Point number 11 is: no more purchased bread for us. A good loaf of bread, one with some nuts & seeds in it, is $2 to $3. I can make a great loaf for 47 cents. We all enjoy it, and when you bake bread at home, you never need air fresheners again.
12. Always let the other guy go first.
13. When in the presence of a really older person, remain standing until s/he sits. No one does this anymore. I know. But the really older person remembers when people used to do this, and they appreciate it. It's an unsaid thing. But you'll see it in their eyes when they realize what you're doing.
14. When you meet a little kid, squat down to talk to him. Same premise as number 13, but in reverse. They appreciate it, too, and it's an unsaid thing, here, too.
Well, I can remember 'em when I'm doing my daily stuff, but sit at the comp and whoosh! they dash away from the old brain. I'll put in more later. Til then...
Let's see, what number did I leave off with? Hang on -- I'll go check. OK. Back. Whew. Quick trip into blogland. Last one was number 7.
8. One olive is plenty for a martini. Two is greedy, and the bartender who strings four onto the little colored sword is just looking for a tip. (Four is how many will fit on the dagger.) The customer who eats them all is just a pretentious fool. One is the perfect touch, and yes, you can eat the one, but eat it s-l-0-w-l-y.
9. Speaking of martinis, there's no need to mess one up with too much vermouth. You never add vermouth to a martini. You pour it into the empty glass, swirl it around, and pour it out. This leaves just a film of vermouth in the glass, which is all you need. Then add the gin, preferably from the freezer.
10. To those of you who know me, yes, I really did quit drinking, but hey, I still CARE about the proper martini. If not for me, there might be dolts out there drinking vermouth-y martinis with the colored sword loaded to the hilt with olives. Poor taste.
11. Again for those of you who know me, you know I'm on this big economy kick, about time, you say, after I've been . . . well, 'bleeding cash' is how my dear eldest son once said it -- for oh so many years. Well, to have a healthy outlook on it, it's about time I began to do a little catching up, isn't it? So. Point number 11 is: no more purchased bread for us. A good loaf of bread, one with some nuts & seeds in it, is $2 to $3. I can make a great loaf for 47 cents. We all enjoy it, and when you bake bread at home, you never need air fresheners again.
12. Always let the other guy go first.
13. When in the presence of a really older person, remain standing until s/he sits. No one does this anymore. I know. But the really older person remembers when people used to do this, and they appreciate it. It's an unsaid thing. But you'll see it in their eyes when they realize what you're doing.
14. When you meet a little kid, squat down to talk to him. Same premise as number 13, but in reverse. They appreciate it, too, and it's an unsaid thing, here, too.
Well, I can remember 'em when I'm doing my daily stuff, but sit at the comp and whoosh! they dash away from the old brain. I'll put in more later. Til then...
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