Football Conversation

In my dad's day, if he wanted to rag on a fan of a football team that he perceived to be less worthy of his appreciation than the team he currently routed for, he would pick up the telephone, nah, wait a minute, no he wouldn't. He would wait until he happened to see the person and strike up a conversation that would go on, perhaps for hours, because whatever his co-conversationalist would say, he would take the opposing view. I'm sure it made for an entertaining bantering of comparative verbiage! Here's how my husband did the same thing the other day, step-by-step, in a matter of seconds:

1: hit the rewind button on live tv during a football game.
2: hit the pause button on the tv to freeze frame a devastated fan with his hands on
his pouting face.
3: take a picture, with his cell phone of said fan.
4: post the picture, from the cell phone to his friend's facebook wall.
5: write a little quip under the picture about how said friend's team sucks.
6: keep checking his facebook page to see if there was a response.

I guess my dad took with him the art of face-to-face conversation when he left us. I miss them both. I can't help but wonder, is that why it's called "Facebook?"

Living in the (right lane) danger zone

At first glance I thought that Brookhaven Town did a fairly decent job of plowing the 27 inches of snow that fell over the weekend. That was until I really starting getting around today. Consider that the storm was three days ago already. Every where I went today the right turn lanes were what was used to store all the plowed snow. No warning, no signs indicating the lane is closed. One minute you're driving in your lane, the next minute the lane is gone. Poof. Vanished. A mound of snow twenty feet high takes its place. Oh and try to park the car in any shopping center three days before Christmas when more than half the spots are also used to store plowed snow. And before you go judging that I should be done shopping by now, I am. Just trying to get my nails done. It was awfully cold walking through mounds of snow with flip flops on!! Oh the things you Floridians take for granted, like getting a pedicure without getting frostbite!! Four more years :(

Over two feet

In case any of you don't know what "over two feet of snow" looks like, or have been in Florida so long, you don't remember, or have been in Florida not that long, but still don't remember, or have been in a different southern state, or just want to rub it in my face cause you know how much I HATE THIS,took a look at this:


























Now, do you feel sorry for me? I didn't think so.

Frozen puddles

Becky, a 24 year old woman from Medford, Long Island was missing for 4 days. The police found her body, after she had been stabbed, burning on the side of a road in Connecticut, not too far from Foxwoods Casino. Unfortunately, the news has stories like these more often than I would like to admit. This time; however, it is different. This time, my son, Justin, knew her. Many of his friends were her friends. Most of the young folks interviewed on the news, I remember from his school days. Justin hasn't been back to New York for about 2 1/2 years. What a horrible thing to come back for.

The puddles in the street have all frozen over. Much like the heart of Becky's murderer. The one that used to beat in Becky's mom, has probably melted for good. Rest in peace, Becky...

On my way to 52

Another birthday has come and nearly gone. For the past several years, in the days between June 5th and December 4th, I take great pleasure in the fact that I am "so much younger" than my five fellow "Commack Clan" members. It's nice to be the youngest of six. Until today. Today I am just as old as they are. Remember when you were younger and on your birthday were always asked how it felt to be that age? The answer was always the same: "no different than yesterday." Well, these past two birthdays, (the big 5-0 and now the big 5-1) definitely feel different. I am very well aware that 60 is only 9 years away. Or, as my brother said in a conversation this evening, "70 is only 19 years away." Thanks for that, bro.

Hey, I don't care. It's just a number. I'm a Gramz now (and I might add, the first of the Commack Clan to achieve this wonderful milestone). Besides, I have a husband that I robbed from the cradle who keeps me young at heart!! Let's hear it for Junior Gramps!!