Doing nothing

6:00 p.m. I'm still in my pj's. Nope, not sick. Just needed one of those days where you sit on your butt. All day. Do nothing. It kind of felt good. The complete opposite of the daily grind and running from one place to another. Except, somehow 4 loads of laundry got washed, dried put away; so did a load of dishes. Two closets got cleaned out. The bed got stripped and remade. And the July vacation plans were finalized. Hmmm, guess I didn't do "nothing" after all...

Suzie Q

My father in law used to call me "Suzie Q." I'm not sure why - but it didn't matter anyhow. It was sweet. We visited his grave yesterday. I had a short, private conversation with him. Later that evening, on the oh so long drive home from Stewartstown, PA to Long Island, I believe it was somewhere during the 15 mph trek of the New Jersey Turnpike, the song "Suzie Q" by Creedence Clearwater Revival came on the radio. I haven't heard that song in years. Coincidence? Acknowledgement? You decide.

Open the Blinds Close the Blinds

Every morning the first thing I do when I come down the stairs is open the blinds. Every evening the last thing I do before going up the stairs is close the blinds. If I did the math in my head correctly, that's over 20,000 times I have opened and closed the blinds in the past 25 years or so (don't get out your calculator to see if I'm right - it was a rough guess). How come every time I turn around I'm opening or closing the blinds? Another description of the same feeling - office chatter:
"Have a nice weekend." "How was your weekend?" I've been at my job long enough to have uttered these two phrases 1144 times. I hope I've made the most of all the time in between.

Taking Turns

It sems that a female dog put out on the first date and got herself in "trouble." Five puppies later, the owner could not handle it. That's what I walked into this afternoon at Bide A Wee. Three girls, two boys. Looks like a spaniel-poodle mix. All five are mostly white balls of fluff with some tan markings. They were all fast asleep when I arrived. Literally sleeping on top of one another. In our training classes we learned that puppies must learn to let humans hold them and touch them all over, it makes them much more adoptable. You don't have to tell me twice!! I would pay to do this. Once again, we humans could learn a lesson from these little guys. The lesson of unconditional love. Just hold them and stroke them and somehow they instinctively know that they are safe and they love you for it forever. I took them out (one at a time) and played with them on my lap. They knew they had to take turns. No one cried. No one was jealous. As I put one down, one would come to me. No one tried to jump the line - it was amazing. Funny - but the runt of the litter was the most playful, (her tail never ever stopped wagging), she was very interested in my fingers. I replaced my fingers with her chew toys just a couple of times and she got the message. It was so easy - no words needed. No punishing. Nothing negative. Just that look. That eye to eye - nonverbal communication. My eyes were saying "don't chew on my fingers." Her eyes were saying "but I love you." Her four siblings (one of which I'll call "Frankie" because his eyes were the bluest I've seen on a dog (except for maybe a Siberian Huskie), were also very playful. They; however, seemed much more interested in sleeping and peeing on the newspaper. Like I said last week - no matter how many litters you see, there is always that one - I already taught her to give kisses....I'm secretly calling her Frito. I'm sure she will have a permanent home before I get back there. Sigh.

And they called it puppy love

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I don't have any pictures, so here are my words (doubtful that it will be a thousand of them though). I'll be as descriptive as possible: Puppy love: Puppy teeth, puppy nails, puppy breath, puppy yelping, puppy crying, puppy playing, puppy kissing. Puppies. All over me. Over a dozen of them at one time - all fighting for my attention. Chewing through my latex gloves, putting their nails through my sterile gown, chewing on my earrings, licking off my sunglasses. Puppies. White. Brown. Black. Twenty four puppy eyes. Trying to put them back in their crates - even with the help of two staff members - not so easy. Lots of crying. I'm weak. I take them back out (one at a time). I play with one, the others cry. They all look at me with those eyes - "I love you, take me home with you." But you know, there's always that one, that one that's different. That one that looks right through your soul and says "look at me, don't you know who I am?" "I'm your destiny...."

P.S. They will all be up for adoption as soon as they are medically cleared. Keep checking the Bide A Wee website (www.bideawee.org) if you're interested. Most of them are golden lab mixes and they've been flown in from the Bahamas.

Supervisor

I'm going to have a new supervisor in a couple of weeks. She is young enough to be my daughter. I remember when I started this job I was the youngest one in the entire department. Now I have a countdown to retirement of less than 4 years. I will have a "child" telling me how to do things that I've been doing for years. Funny, I thought this would bother me more than it does. Actually, I'm thinking I may be able to learn a thing or two from her. Not to mention that I certainly can teach her a thing or two or three or four...

Midnight

Midnight: noun, a 12 year old, black lab mix with the sweetest disposition a family could ever ask for. Loyal. Loving. Compassionate. Smart. Sweet (oh so sweet!) Beautiful. Funny. Furry. Fantastic. Fabulous. Adorable. Amiable. Angelic. Captivating. Charming. Cuddly (oh so cuddly!!) Fascinating. Friendly. Spoiled - oh so very spoiled...just like every dog should be!

When we got the call a little while ago that he had to be put down, my brother in law asked me if I wanted to say goodbye to him over the phone. I couldn't do it. I'm doing it here. Goodbye Midnight. I will miss everything about you. Especially your head pushing up my hand to scratch your behind. Our bed in the basement will be lonely without you. Your barking at the back door to come inside when you didn't want to be alone outside will ring in my heart forever. You managed to bring sunshine on even the darkest days. I hope you are at peace. I love you.

1983

How did I become older than my mom? As I was digging through a couple of boxes of old photographs, I came across one of my first born son, Joey, at the age of 5 months, with me sitting on the couch. Just for the heck of it, I put my glasses on, took another look. Nope - not me in the picture. My mom. Four years younger than I am now. How is this possible? The original was taken with a Polaroid. I just took a photo of the photo, so it's a bit blurry, much like the 26 1/2 years that have passed since that day.

wii fit

It's all the rage. Everyone has it. Everyone is talking about it. We have one too. We talk about it too. Apparently; however, I am not so much wii fit! According to "my fitness coach" my center of balance is way off. My BMI is way too high. My weight is 33 pounds more than it should be. It seems that I cannot walk in place and swing my arms at the same time, or walk on a tight rope, twirl a baton, keep up a hoola hoop, have a snowball fight, operate a segway, ski down a mountain, do a basic step aerobic, nor breathe properly. It's amazing that I can dress myself! But here's the thing - it is so competitive that it drives you to keep going. I'm feeling muscles in my body that I haven't felt since tryouts for kickline in 10th grade!! Maybe I'll lose some weight and get into shape, but I'll have to put the bag of potato chips down first!

36 years with you - 15 without

Happy birthday Dad...

Christmas Dinner

I've been trying for over a week to write a story about Christmas dinner. I sign on and stare at a blank page, all the words jumbled in my head and I can't seem to make a sentence. After the 4th try I gave up. Today as I sit here, (attempt #5) watching yet another snow storm, I realized it's because of the weather. Rage takes over every power of my being and I can't even think. I know I complain a lot about the cold. I know there's nothing I can do about it. I know people don't like to hear me whine about it. I can't stop myself. This is the 4th storm this winter and it's only January 2nd. This one was fore casted as "snow showers." The hubby used the snow blower a couple of hours ago and it's covered again. Some snow showers.

Anyhow - Christmas dinner was a lot of fun. Those of you who know me know that I really can't cook very well. One thing I can make; however, is a turkey. I attempted to step it up a notch with my son's recipe for apple cider gravy (which begins with cooking the turkey in the cider.) My momma in law always makes oyster dressing. We attempted the preparing of this feast together. I prepared the bird, she chopped her little fingers to the bone preparing the dressing. The only thing I did to help was break up the oysters. I held the legs of the bird wide open while she spooned in the stuffing. I felt like I was aiding in my granddaughter's birth again, only things were going in instead of coming out!! I happened to say this out loud and for some reason Momma found it hysterical. The kind of laughter that makes tears. The spoonfuls of dressing were landing everywhere but inside the bird. "F---it" I said, just pick it up with your hands. So she did - hand fulls of dressing literally being shoved in the bird. We laughed so hard our cheeks hurt. We were all looking forward to this meal, especially the oyster dressing. A couple of hours later the house began to smell delicious. I basted and basted and basted again. Dinner was finally ready. Probably one of the most scrumptious birds I ever made. The oyster dressing; however, tasted like apple cider. Momma didn't find this flavor appealing to her palate. We did however; laugh. A lot. So much work - all for naught. Time well spent together, though. This is probably one of those stories best read if you were there. Nonetheless I felt like telling it. It was good to see you laugh, Momma.

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!!

Favorite Quotes

"An optimist is a person who starts a new diet on Thanksgiving Day." - Irv Kupcinet

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." - John Fitzgerald Kennedy

"Never look down on anybody unless you're helping him up." - Jesse Jackson

And this priceless one:

"One original thought is worth a thousand mindless quotings." - Diogenes of Sinope

Talk about your generation gap...

The hubby and I are having a hard time keeping up with Nonna and Nanno. Originally from Sicily, Rose and Sal (my daughter in law's grand parents) are two extremly incredible people. Up at the crack of dawn, neither one of them stop. I mean truly, do not stop. Sal says if he sits down, his mind takes over and then things start to hurt. So he keeps moving. All day. Here's what he did today: He took a 5hour road trip (alone) from his house down near Miami up to Spring Hill to meet his great granddaughter, Juliana. He walked in, kissed her and held her for a couple of minutes, grabbed my husband and said "ok, let's go." Off to the store they went to pick up the glider rocking chair and ottoman for the nursery. They came back, put it together, and off to the supermarket they went to pick up some groceries for dinner. Drop off the food, and out to Home Depot they went to pick up the ceiling fan for the nursery. In the meanwhile, Rose, is in the kitchen making home made pasta and broccoli (and that was just the appetizer!!), then came the salad, and then came the most delicious pork chops I have ever eaten. Ever. I try to help with the clean up, but basically get tossed out of the kitchen. Yesterday we went shopping and she goes up and down the aisles of the store so quickly, I really can't catch up to her. This woman is 31 years older than I. I'm exhausted just writing about it.

I am so grateful that I have gotten to know Sal and Rose. They should do a stand up comedy act together - their stories would have people crying from laughing so hard. Too bad my dad wasn't able to meet them...

And now for the supporting information...

In today's world of instant gratification technology, as pleased as I was with myself in getting pictures of my granddaughter online so quickly, I now have come to realize that no information was published with the incredible photos. Here's the scoop:

The total time of prelabor and labor was 36 hours and 45 minutes.
Juliana Rose Wise entered the world at 4:45 p.m. on 11/10/09, weighing in at
8 pounds, 2 ounces, measuring 19 inches.

It was a mind-blowing, emotionally euphoric experience to help coach my daughter in law through labor and delivery and watch my son do the same. When Juliana arrived there were three other generations in the room to greet her.

Hubby and I are now officially Gramz (yes, with a Z) and Gramps, and are thrilled to be just that!! And I do believe I read somewhere that there is a Batty Uncle up in Boston! There's also GG Annie, Bisnonna and Bisnonno and so many more folks who's lives will be changed forever. Two words keep coming to mind: Surreal. Profound.

Congratulations Justin and Vanessa - your daughter is the combination of all that is good between you. I am so very proud of both of you.

Juliana's arrival

Just call me Gramz:

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