This Girl is Gone...

Remembering My Mother-in -Law...Rest in Peace

2012-02-11T01:49:00.007-05:00

Today, we received the news that Grandma Florida passed away. While we had been preparing for this day since hearing her cancer had returned, the finality of it all was still shocking to hear. I admit, ours was not the best of relationships. It was complicated in the extreme, but she was my children's grandmother and there was no doubt about how much she loved them. They haven't seen her in a while and weren't able to say good bye at the end, but she was in our thoughts daily. I hope she knows this now.

It's hard to believe it's been over twenty years since Jon brought me home to meet his parents on Long Island only a few weeks after we graduated from college. Now, I am a parent myself and my perspective on that meeting has, well, let's just say it's "evolved". At the time I didn't really understand how difficult it can be to watch your kids grow up and move away from you. Meeting "the boyfriend" or "girlfriend" instantly draws a line in the sand between you and your child. They are making a new life for themselves and you're not so welcome in it. It hasn't officially happened to me yet, but my oldest is almost 16 and she's starting to have that look in her eyes. The one that says she's becoming a woman and someday, she's out of here.

When I look back at the first time I met Grandma Florida she wasn't much older than I am now and she still had a real name - Barbara. I remember sitting in her kitchen with Jon and seeing the look of panic on his face when we heard the front door open signaling his parents return from the Nautilaus Diner in town. He knew the risk he had taken and the moment Barbara walked into the kitchen I knew I was in for the ultimate test. Jon looked like he was going to have a panic attack. Actually, he might have been having one right there. At the time I didn't know how to recognize the signs...

Truly, we were aliens to each other. The 22 year old in the kitchen with her son was nothing like they had planned. It took about ten minutes of casual interrogation, excuse me, I mean, conversation, to realize I had one hell of a long weekend ahead of me. I'm pretty sure it lasted about an hour, but felt like six and all manner of easy and fun topics were broached. I recall sitting at the kitchen table while Barbara, looking young, perfectly dressed, in amazing shape, with the most perfect acrylic manicure I'd ever seen, smiled and offered us something to drink. Then the friendly questions began. We talked about Catholicism (Jon's Jewish), my rather large Irish family, my decision to put off law school until the following year and my decidedly uncool address in Riverdale - in the Bronx. Yes, the Bronx. If you know anyone who's grown up on Long Island, you know many people out there don't like to leave. The Bronx may as well have been Mars. I'm pretty sure she was about to have a heart attack when she found out that uncool address was also my very own apartment, one I jokingly referred to as "The Bat Cave". Cue the sound of crickets. I might mention that I am the youngest of six and I have five older brothers. You don't grow up in a house like that without developing a pretty strong personality yourself. Though I was respectful, I was also opinionated...I did plan on law school after all. That first meeting was quite an experience.

Barbara was full of surprises and that night was no different. Despite coming across as a pretty intense mom, she was decidedly liberal about where girlfriends could sleep. When she said she left extra pillows in Jon's room I almost fell over with shock and incredible discomfort. It turned out his brother had his own shiksa girlfriend (she was from upstate New York) and they had claimed the bedroom with the bigger bed. Seriously, that would not go over well with my family. Barbara said it was no big deal. When Jon and I left to meet friends at a local bar that evening, I imagine she might have poured a huge glass of her favorite Gin and chugged it. As for me, I remember thinking I'd just enlisted in some weird Long Island Boot Camp. A lot of beer flowed at a place called Lilly Flanagan's that night. Although, I had no premonition about the future, it turned out that weekend in June of 1991 was the beginning of a life changing roller coaster ride for all of us.

Only a few months after that first meeting I was invited to join them for Thanksgiving. First, to my shock I learned that no one actually cooked for the holiday, it was all catered. Then, just as we were all settled in around the table, Jon's certifiably crazy, cousin Howie faked an orgasm and referenced the three Catholic women at the table, "Oh, Catholic girls!!! Ooooh!" The fact that everyone seemed nonplussed about it was weird. He was NUTS and I mean in the heavily medicated, some-day-going-to-be-committed kind of way. He openly talked about his old pet - a marijuana plant whose name I've now forgotten. If only cameras were rolling for that one... My kids must have been meant to be because I didn't run. Other women might have answered the call of the Long Island Railroad that very night and hopped on the next train to Penn Station. I remember looking at Barbara laughing it all off and thinking she had a much better sense of humor than I thought. I didn't run. I stayed. Their secret was out, they had just as much crazy, maybe even more, in their family than mine. They just drove better cars.

I'm pretty sure the years that followed and our utter confusion dealing with each other prompted more than a few Gin and Tonics. In retrospect, I guess she felt I stole her son away before she was ready to let go. These days I'm beginning to understand how difficult that must have been. I think she had imagined a life for him that was more familiar and had hoped he'd marry the girl around the corner in their neighborhood. The one who was Jewish and whose father might have been an accountant or worked in the garment industry. The girl who kept up with those ever changing Long Island fashion trends I could never understand and thought were ridiculous. Someone whose wardrobe was not monochromatic and black. The girl who could be counted on to keep the status quo and maybe set up house on the north shore in some place nice like Syosset or Jericho. You know, a town with good school system. Instead, her son ran off to live in the Bat Cave in Riverdale with a shiksa of all things and ended up far away in the woods of Westchester County with her grandchildren raising chickens in the backyard. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if my daughter brought home someone whose background was vastly different from ours. I'd like to think that my definition of "alien intruder" in my child's life would actually involve coming from outer space, and not just someone from across a bridge or two, but I haven't lived it yet. I suspect when and if it happens, Barbara will be somewhere smiling, thinking, "See, it's not so easy, is it Chris?"

What Barbara never knew is that she drove me insane because she was just as alien to me. She was so unlike my own mother and any other mom I knew growing up. My mother was a single parent who leaned toward martyrdom and a fashion sense I affectionately call "homeless chic". My mother worked all day, cooked, cursed, prayed, prayed some more, and almost never put herself first. By the time I was older my mother had done enough parenting and pretty much set me free. I always thought that was a good thing. That kind of freedom made me pretty fearless back then. Barbara, on the other hand, was much younger and never one to wear even an unpressed t-shirt. She was perfectly dressed always, even when walking the dog. She took care of herself, her home, her car - no detail was left unattended. She knew the right clothes, jewelry, and bag to buy. Louis Vuitton was one of her favorites. I can still see her in her full length mink coat with the cursive B embroidered on the inside liner. Barbara, unlike my own mother, wanted to know every detail of her sons lives. She lived for them and worried constantly about how they would handle a simple cold, even long after they turned 30. Barbara and my mother were 180 degrees away from each other on the parenting spectrum. I think it was inevitable that those worlds collided once in a while.

Fast forward, twenty years and now I'm the mother on the receiving end of the bittersweet stage of life when you can see the nest is going to start emptying in a few years. I look back with a lot more compassion for that feisty mother in law I once knew and drove crazy with my very different outlook on life. When I booked a trip to Ireland with our first child only ten months old, Barbara worried. When she found out I had only booked one night in advance at a bed and breakfast and we were "winging it" the rest of the week, I'm pretty sure it confirmed my insanity in her eyes. Her first granddaughter was the love of her life and we were taking risks she did not like. We made many decisions that perplexed Barbara and we drove her crazy in those early years. She did get to meet all of her grandchildren and share some important moments in their lives, but unfortunate circumstances, then illness pulled them apart a few years ago. I wish it could have been different. Perhaps, now she can see what she couldn't know when she was living so far away. I can only hope she now knows how much her grandchildren loved her and wanted to visit. If she can see our family now, some things might surprise her. Painful as it might be for me to admit it, I'm not exactly the most hands off mom around and it turns out in some subtle ways I'm more like Barbara as a mother than my own. After all these years, I've finally come to realize that's not such a bad thing after all.

Waxing Gibbous Moon - Sleepless in Westchester

2012-02-06T09:58:00.006-05:00

Waxing Gibbous moon, a photo by I am marlon on Flickr.

Last week, the bright light of a Waning Gibbous Moon woke me up at the ungodly hour of 2:42am. I know the type of moon because, well, I admit I looked it up right away wondering if it was actually a full moon. No such luck...I thought I'd get to blame all the disasters of my life that day on it. Sigh. Then, I thought it was jet lag wreaking havoc on my sleep. This is what I told myself.

Then, I was awakened last night by a stunningly beautiful and bright Waxing Gibbous Moon at 4:42 just like the one in the photograph. (yep, looked it up again;) Now, I realize most grounded, sane people might not even consider the possibility that there is some meaning behind these events...

Having been raised by a woman (and grandmothers) with a penchant for dream analysis and an interest in all manner of religious and psychic phenomena, however, I immediately looked for something deeper. Ah, you can take the girl away from Grandma Kay, but old superstitions die hard. It wasn't easy, but I put the computer away and decided I just needed to adjust the shades from now on. I'm pretty sure my mother would have some interesting and bizarre take on it, but I'm going to pass on sharing it with her. I don't want to lie awake again wondering if about some "event" that may be about to happen. She will most certainly freak me out, even after all these years. Who knows, maybe it means I've got some werewolf in me? Or maybe it was just a wake up call get my ass out of bed soon? I think I'll go with that.

hmmm....a Full Moon IS coming tomorrow night...wonder if I have another wake up call in my future?
I hope not. I could use the sleep.

xo

Going Home...

2012-02-02T07:48:00.009-05:00

I slipped into the back seat of the taxi and looked out into the black early morning sky and shivered. The warm and humid season I had expected by now in this part of northern Thailand had yet to begin. Each morning in late January, the air remained cold, encouraging the layering of clothing until the afternoon sun's warmth would coax the first sweater off your shoulders. My last morning was no different and I pulled another scarf out of my bag and wrapped it around me. I willed my eyes to stop burning. The click of the back hatch of the minivan signaled my bags were safely stowed away for the half hour ride to the airport. Here and there, a tear escaped and I hoped my driver wouldn't notice. I was going home.

The thought of wrapping my arms around each of my children instead of waving to a computer screen, hearing only snippets of their lives made me smile. I had missed them terribly. I tried to keep thinking of them. Still, as the van bumped down the road away from Nugent Waterside, our little haven on the outskirts of the city, with its rustic, yet somehow, perfectly appropriate accommodations for what someone, who shall remain nameless, coined our retreat, "nerd camp for writers", I was incredibly sad to leave. Each morning there was a beautiful sunrise over the lake (filled with dubiously large catfish - really, so huge they could take your hand off. I don't know what they feed them...) and the sound of roosters crowing nearby. I knew I would miss all of it and, of course, the warm, friendly people I had met on this journey. In the end, despite the laughable, random little snake that terrified me, the lukewarm showers, and my initial trepidation about visiting this country whose language and culture baffled me (which way do I point my feet again?) and the rumored King Cobra, I was not ready to go.

I had just spent the week with some of the finest people and writer's I have ever had the pleasure to meet at the Thailand Writer's Retreat and saying goodbye, well, it just wasn't easy. When you leave your ego, your inhibitions, and the force field that some of us (cough) hide behind to keep vulnerability at bay at the entry and take the big risk of being completely honest you can't help it. You become connected after a while. During the hours and hours we wrote, listened, grew frustrated and occasionally felt "less than" we were transformed from strangers to confidantes and friends. We put our trust in each other and Wendy Rohm, our fearless leader, best-selling author and founder of the retreat. We shared some of our innermost secrets, our psyches and of course, our work. In the end, we emerged, I think, even better writer's than before. Now, as the taxi moved through the streets toward the airport, I realized I'd have to continue on this journey alone in body, if not in spirit and I was a little, dare I say... vulnerable?

When my taxi driver finally pulled to the curb and opened my door he pretended not to see my tears and puffy eyes. He didn't seem to know what to say except, "Back to New York now? Come on, you really have chickens?" I only laughed. On my first day I'd joked he was my "rent-a-friend" driver. We had spent the day together with me in the front passenger seat touring around Chiang Mai. He'd graciously answered all my questions about the culture, buddhism, and how Thai's really feel about the faraang (the Thai term for foreigners) marrying very young Thai women. Yes, I boldly asked and surprisingly, he had been happy to answer, but that story is for another day... His answers might surprise you. Over lunch I had shocked him with the news that my daughter raises chickens. This morning, however, his once chatty American passenger had no words. I quietly paid him the 300 baht he charged, said thank you, proudly in Thai by the way, and rolled my bags into the bright lights of the terminal.

The myriad of security checks, flight changes, delays and general exhaustion helped quell the tears, but it was still difficult to leave. I absolutely plan to return Thailand, especially now that I have some friends there, but I've lived long enough to know experiences like these happen sparingly, if ever, in most lifetimes. It's a week that will stand alone in my memory, to be happily recounted when all those words we shared, fingers crossed, light up a Kindle one day...

Now, I'm home and some unfinished chapters need my attention.

So long, Thailand. Until we meet again.

Damn Snake of Chiang Mai...

2012-01-30T12:55:00.001-05:00

So, just when I thought I could finally relax in Thailand after receiving countless assurances I would not encounter one of the approximately 157 varieties of snakes in Thailand we had a visitor to our writer's conference....f@#K!

Fortunately for me, one of my fellow writer's is a naturalist and Thailand's version of the late Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. Darryl, my savior and avid snake hunter happened to be sitting next to me when my nemesis arrived. Of course, the visit was made even more bizarre since it began ascending the tree next to the open air deck we where we held our our meeting. I had just begun a description of my plot outline which involves what else, but a really creepy scene with two snakes. Darryl watched it climb the tree and when it began to come into the deck's roof right behind me he gave me the command to look the other way before I could see it. He then proceeded to pull it out of the wood roof of the deck and after the photo op, he relocated the "common Bronze Back" to another area beside the lake. I'm confident the event would surely have ended in my death by heart attack had it slithered it's way over to me. Well, at least it wasn't the dreaded Cow-brahhhh! Each of the conferences I've attended in Paris and now Thailand, have channeled some amazing synchronicity, usually I find those moments fascinating. I have to say this time - not so much.

I can't even look at this pic, but I know other people got a kick out of this little happening so, enjoy!

Ziplining in Thailand...Don't Look Down (Is that a Cobra?...just kidding.)

2012-01-26T21:01:00.004-05:00

When my friend and fellow writer, Dennis Heruela and I decided to go ziplining through the jungle in Chiang Mai I was afraid we would come across a dreaded King Cobra waiting for us on one of the platforms, fortunately, we escaped without a sighting. Of course, we did have a smaller, but no less frightening legless visitor a few days later. Thank god for our resident snake wrangler Darryl, who disposed of it without it landing on my laptop. Good times. That was not the adrenaline rush I was looking for. A post on that will follow soon...

Dennis Heruela

One word: amazing.

Chiang Mai...Photos of the Day

2012-01-25T05:10:00.002-05:00

Maesa Elephant Camp

more to come...

xo

It's a Dr. Suess Kind of Day... Off and Away to Thailand

2012-01-18T07:35:00.003-05:00

Oh, Some Places I Will Be Going....

Night Market Chiang Mai

Elephant Trek

Via Pinterest

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Dr. Seuss

(excerpt and adapted)

Congratulations!

Today is your day.

You're off to Great Places!

You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.

I hope...

You have feet in your shoes

You can steer yourself

any direction you choose.

You're on your own. And you know what you know.

And YOU are the guy (or the girl) who'll decide where to go.

You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care. (yes, I plan to do just that)

About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there." (like the market with snakes in a basket...)

With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,

you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

Now, let us pray...to the gods, the moon, the stars of the night,

no airport delays, no dangers, neither real or imagined,

to cause any great fright.

Please, no bugs, no slithers or itchy surprises.

Please, no unexpected meetings with immigration or customs supervisors.

A trip filled with people, to meet and enjoy, and yes,

food, laughter and high spirits, oh boy.

Here's to filling the limitless, beautiful, blank lines on each page,

let them overflow with words both heartfelt and sage.

Oh, but not on our faces, of those of those we're not a fan,

they might be a map of our lives, past love's, and perhaps some regret,

for some a proud statement, for others,

dear no, no, not so much.

Our age and experience,

the treasure trove of our existence,

past youth, vim and vigor, let it be etched my mind

not announced to the world in heavy frowning creases.

That is a number best kept as our own little secret.

So, here's a little toast to enjoying the adventure,

to maps, winding roads and roads yet to be traveled. No stress, a good story, new friends, what's better?

Of course, let's not forget, all that is made easy and not such a feat, when the airport doesn't lose your

overstuffed, treasure-filled, now bursting luggage pieces.

Oh, there's is so much more to type and tons more to say,

but you'll just have to wait,

till this crazy little trip is finally, finally, finally,

underway.

Count Down to Chiang Mai. Bug Repellent, Malaria Treatment?...Condoms? huh?

2012-01-12T13:11:00.089-05:00

Usually, I start packing a few hours before I'm due at the airport. My kids laugh at my speed packing ability. I am a big fan of going "carry-on only" with an empty duffel tucked away for the inevitable moment when the trip is over and somehow my clothes and "stuff" have multiplied and no longer fit in my bag. This time, much to my children's surprise I've started planning early. I hope I don't over pack, but this first trip to Thailand seems to require a little more forethought than my previous jaunts. I think I'm on the right track, but I was surprised at some of the suggestions I've found.

Besides the Malaria "vaccination/treatment" my doctor has ordered (actually a lengthy treatment and one I'm now skipping) and the various types of bug repellent I've been purchasing I needed a few more ideas about what I should be packing.

Thank you Travelfish for some enlightening and occasionally humorous suggestions...

What should I pack for a holiday in Thailand?

The following are my fave excerpts from the above blog post. They were both informational and maybe a bit more than I planned on needing, but I guess you never know...;)

First on your list should be an open mind and a sense of humour. (and some good manners)
(This Girl: I'm inclined to believe these words are generally the best way to handle life in general. It's also the best way to avoid perpetuating the dreaded "loud, ugly American stereotype". That's something I strive for every time I travel. More than once I have been embarrassed by the behavior of a fellow American abroad and been tempted to declare my Canadian citizenship.)

Essentials are a swimming costume.
(Swimming Costume? God, the visual I get from that phrase... Well, after a few months of skipping the gym I could probably use a "costume" on the beach. No doubt I will be wearing a hat and dark glasses, perhaps even a caftan.)

Cigarette papers can be difficult to find, except in tourist centres.
(This Girl: Really? Are they talking about rolling papers? Okay, let's skip those. I can just see an international incident as This Mom gets arrested for smoking some Thai Stick and suddenly needs a bail out. No thanks. That's not how I'd like to end up on the Today Show.)

Condoms, of course.

(This Girl: Of course??? I'm not planning on debauching a monk, some random backpacker, or going all "Eat, Pray, Love" on this trip so I'm pretty sure I can skip these. If your plans involve some extra Thai-benefits then by all means stock up before leaving. Hey, you never know. No judgement here.)

Travel scrabble can be great.
(This Girl: I'm pretty sure I won't be into board games this trip, but not a bad suggestion if you are traveling with a partner. See above...maybe the Travelfish author was referencing a post-coital activity or what to do when that "friendship" has no benefits?)

Prescriptions for any medication you require. (This Girl: Benadryl, Benadryl, Benadryl..no I am not being paid to promote it. Just a personal lifesaver after unexpected mosquito encounters.)

Most chemists will sell medicine over the counter without a script, but if you are searched by immigration it’s good to be able to show you require what you’re carrying.

(This Girl: Hmmm...not sure what scripts people might be picking up here without doctor's orders, but I am going to suggest skipping them lest immigration finds them jail worthy. I mean, is an easy score of...whatever, Percoset, Viagra or something else really worth it? I don't think so. Actually, given the assumption that condoms will be needed, maybe over-the-counter Penicillin is the rage?)

Remember dark clothes do not need to be washed as often, as long as you do not have a BO problem or sweat profusely.
(This Girl: I find most people who have a problem in this area aren't aware of it. I am also prepared for the inevitable fact that after 25 to 30 hours of travel, no one is going to look or smell all that great.)

A good map of Thailand is also handy.
(This Girl: Yes, it's generally a good idea to prepare to find yourself lost and have a way out of the predicament at your finger tips. Assuming you can go all Blanch DuBois and rely "on the kindness of strangers" and their directions is not the best course of action when visiting, well, anywhere.)

Padlocks for every double zipper to stop wandering hands and lock up your sacred belongings, even in your hotel room.

(This Girl: uh oh. Lovely. Advice well taken.)

Sun screen and insect repellent. Mosquito coils are also a good idea.
(This Girl: Deet is my bff this trip and gets more space than my shoes this trip.)
A small pocket size torch
(This Girl: this is also known as a flashlight...in case your imagination went elsewhere.) will come in handy when the electricity goes out or for investigating caves.
A second photo ID other than your passport
(This Girl: Personally, I am neurotic about this and carry multiple copies of ID in each piece of luggage and purse just in case my original Passport gets lost.)

Otherwise, bring as little as possible. You can probably get what you need in Bangkok.
(This Girl: Excellent advice, that six piece set of LV luggage is probably not going to serve you well on a trip like this. I'm thinking backpack or the lightest duffel or carry-on is the best way to make this trip comfortably, even if you're staying at hotels.)

via Pinterest

via pinterest

Let's hope the shots go well, the luggage doesn't get lost or "Taken without Charge" and the mosquitoes stay away...

Countdown to Chiang Mai is on!

Chiang Mai, Here I Come. Let the Mosquitoes Rejoice!

2012-01-10T21:29:00.006-05:00

My nemesis: the mosquito.

My gift to the mosquitoes of Chiang Mai: A little American Take-Out.

So, I've finally mapped out my transportation to Chiang Mai, Thailand. It involves approximately 25 hours of travel each way and six planes in total. Good times. On the bright side, having that much time to myself is a pretty exciting prospect. This mother of four hasn't had that much alone time in quite a while. The fact that most of it will be in a steel tube hurtling through the air to the other side of the world is just a side note. Well, a side note, as long as the turbulence isn't that bad. A friend suggested a possible remedy. Can you say, Ambien? I've never tried it before, but I'm definitely not ruling it out.

I have to admit I have one major reservation about the trip. It's not the travel time that is freaking me out. It's the mosquitoes. You might be thinking, "Duh, You didn't know Thailand had mosquitoes?" I know. I KNOW. It's just that I kind of blocked the thought of the imminent onslaught of those little blood suckers long enough to actually book the trip. You see, here in New York I serve three meals a day every summer to the mosquitos who congregate by our pond. What do I get for my trouble? They leave me with a generous tip of huge tumor-like bites and a antihistamine hangover. Really, it seems like I'm some kind of fly-by fast food joint for them.

When I started doing a little research on the essentials I needed for the trip, Deet-laden repellent was the number one item on most lists. That's when I remembered my friend's description of waking up and finding the mosquito net over her bed covered in the them. According to her, the one's at home have nothing on the Mothra-like insects I'm now envisioning in Thailand. Now, I've read enough about Malaria, Dengue Fever and the great clinic near my hotel in Chiang Mai that I'm seriously considering donning a hazmat suit or bee keeper ensemble while I'm there. It's a far cry from my red leather jacket, but women ARE supposed to cover up while visiting the temples...it's a thought.

Wish me happy packing. My departure date looms ahead and I'm itching already.

Ummm....Time Travel and Super Heroes? Who's in?

2012-01-03T13:00:00.004-05:00

Allegedly an Ad from California Newspaper via Flickr

Well, well, someone may have gone off their meds...

Perhaps, Marty from "Back to the Future" or some up-and-coming super hero could be looking for a new sidekick? Seriously, the last option is a possibility. This ad made me think of the "Real Life Superhero's" and, though, the fantasy of time travel is just wistful thinking or a recreational drug induced thought for most of us, it might not be such a stretch for them.

NY Post

These men and women are serious about fighting crime throughout the world - often wearing capes. No joke, this is an international organization where people get together to fight crime in full superhero regalia, often of their own creation. I watched the HBO documentary, " Superheroes" recently and I was amazed. It is something to behold, I tell you. Trekkies have nothing on this group - I've watched a documentary on them too, and for the most part, they keep the costumes to the conventions.

Maybe it's me, but this group seems to be living in it's own comic based alternate reality and I'm pretty sure "space time continuum" might be part of the vernacular. In any event, I'm confident the time traveler and superheroes would be fast friends if they don't know each other already. I happened to have had the pleasure of witnessing one of them directing traffic in midtown Manhattan a couple of days before Christmas. He or she, I don't want to assume the gender, was dressed as Batman. Was he officially a member? I'm not sure because his ensemble wasn't very original. However, the caped crusader was serious about his duties on the mean streets of New York, as he earnestly managed crowd control on the corners and kept tourists from stepping off the curb too soon and meeting their demise by speeding taxi's.

In some ways, those Real Life Super Heroes are just like us. Apparently, even crime fighters of Gotham need a good brew after a long day in tights. Here is the link to the group's latest, Superhero Pub Crawl. I am not kidding, check it out. Perhaps, the Super H pub crawl and maybe some tequila explains the time travel idea? It's just a thought...

Insignis from the World Superhero Registry

His real identity is secret. I think that is a wise move.

Well, they might be just on the other side of my definition of sane, but isn't the prospect of being able to go back and change a major or even minor life decision pretty compelling? Perhaps, not as a sidekick to the pharmaceutically challenged author of the above classified ad, but don't you wonder, if you had that one chance to hop into that DeLorean or get whisked away by someone in a cape, what you would go back and change? Would it be personal or would you go big and try to change history? Can you imagine donning a costume to do it?

I'm not sure I'd want to change anything, except maybe that really bad perm in 1985. I would be too afraid of some bizarre domino effect. I won't go into details, but it involves inventions falling into the wrong hands and armageddon. Bad Hollywood movie all around. See, it's freaky if you think about it. Besides, it might affect the four best outcomes of my life - my kids. So, no need to revise history for me. I'd rather look to the future where I might actually have a better impact.

It is a tempting offer if you leave out the weapons, though. I mean really, after all, what the heck do you bring? I'm thinking...matches? A taser? In any event, I would probably jump in for a little road trip to the museum of my past if given the chance just to dust off the memories. As for the travel clothing, I'm thinking if I absolutely had to choose it wouldn't be anything too crazy. Maybe....Cat Woman? She's just enough villain to make it interesting. ;)

Happy 2012! (and to hell with resolutions!)

2012-01-01T12:55:00.010-05:00

Message from my kids and my kitchen...

Happy New Year All!

My big New Year's Resolution for 2012 is ...

To hell with resolutions.

I think the whole resolution thing is just a set up to fail. It reminds me of the times I've tried to take on the challenge of the Lenten sacrifice only to feel worse about myself when I couldn't make it through 40 days without succumbing to temptation. Does Jesus really care if I dig into the Godiva chocolate, coffee or wine on day 5? I don't think so. I'm pretty sure he's got bigger issues on his mind than my various addictions. I'd like to think God prefers a happy and content flock rather than a big following of people with low self esteem or anger management issues related to caffeine withdrawal. Besides, if I can't get through a 40 day commitment to God, it is highly unlikely I'm going to make it through a twelve month pledge of anything. Seriously, I really don't need the guilt trip. I'm Irish and I'm Catholic - a severely flawed and lapsed one at that. Still, a mere thought is supposed to send me straight to confession and repentance, never mind the psychic repercussions of bailing on a commitment to better myself or humanity.

Words to live by.

This year, I refuse to make an empty pledge to work out five times a week, volunteer more, drink less of anything, become vegetarian, laugh more, cry less, find happiness, read "War and Peace", or organize my closets, although any of those things would be great. I just don't want to make any promises to myself or anyone this year based on a list I threw together during the last hours of 2011. I've never been a fan of the perfect plan for anything in life - so resolutions be damned. Let's see what happens.

When I woke up late this morning, I immediately thought, "What's next?", instead of instantly drowning in failure because I had missed the gym already. Now, that was a perfect way to start the year.

Hope your's is a great one.

Day Two of Christmas Vacation...Bowling. Yes, Bowling.

2011-12-27T11:48:00.009-05:00

Spins Bowling at Grand Prix, Mount Kisco, NY

Bowling.

What better way to spend a cold afternoon, than letting your progeny throw a very heavy ball at some tiny pins that seem to be permanently glued down? Okay, I can think of a few other things, but they would all involve palm trees and margaritas, besides, the kids are really excited. Truth be told, I recently attended a grown up bowling party for a friend's birthday and despite my dismal score, I had a really good time.

I swear before the grand opening of the new bowling alley, Spins, near my town, I hadn't been in one for a very long time. Years ago, we hosted my daughter's birthday party at an old place in Connecticut. I stuck to serving the pizza that day. Other than her birthday, my memories of bowling involved lying on a couch in my apartment at college, watching it on television when the only other option was a show called, Big Bass Fishing. I have a vague recollection of switching back and forth between the channels. I'm pretty sure I liked the fishing show better back then. Obviously, that was before we finally ordered cable. After a late night, I don't think we really cared what was on the screen anyway. Funny how times change.

So, in addition to keeping the kids busy I am on a mission to increase my score. Sad? Maybe, but very true. I am really, really annoyed by my lack of athletic prowess at this ....sport???

There is a pink 9 pound ball waiting for me to damage it somewhere in Mount Kisco, New York right now. Wish it luck.

Any bets on my score or the possibility I injure a hip?

;)C

Relax. Christmas is Over.

2011-12-26T15:23:00.005-05:00

www.notonthehighstreet.com

via Pinterest

Why? Let me list the ways...

Christmas went spectacularly well this year and now it's over.

Christmas Eve...great food, family, a lot of laughter and a fire. Oh, yeah, let's not forget the cabernet, it was perfect.

Santa chose wisely this year and "nailed it" according to my daughter.

This Santa doesn't need to shop anymore. Thank god.

The elves are off the shelves and I don't need to see them or feel guilty about ruining their magic for a whole year!

No Snow.

I know it's pretty and all, but getting your elderly, visually and motor challenged mother in and out of the car is treacherous work on a sunny day. On an icy and snow covered walkway it's life threatening for both of us.

Grandma was here two full days without any major arguments and inadvertently insulted only three or four nationalities this time. I call this "progress".

Grandma's dog Casey did NOT have an accident on my living room rug. Truly, this is a Christmas miracle.

The cooking is over for a couple of days - leftovers are good enough.

Message to my children: Yes, they are and if you disagree, you can find bread in the cabinet:)

There's no school tomorrow or the next...

Even my kids were ready for a few mental health days, though I'm sure by the week's end I will need a few more.

Love my new Victorinox Swiss Army luggage.

Can't wait to pack them up.

Swiss Army Luggage

Christmas is over.

My kids are happy. I'm happy.

It's a good day.

Now, off to decide on my New Year's resolutions and figure out how to get that tree out of my house before it self combusts.

Yikes, now both of those tasks are tricky business!

Enjoy the season!

A Very Merry Christmas This Year...

2011-12-25T09:17:00.003-05:00

My ten year old daughter said, "Santa really nailed it this year".

Enough said.

xo

Children Living on the Clouds - Yoko Furusho

2011-12-23T07:38:00.002-05:00

Yoko Furusho

I came across this illustration, Children Living on the Clouds, by award winning New York based artist Yoko Furusho on the blog Slow Noodle and Pinterest recently. I immediately fell in love. It reminded me of my children. Two days until Christmas and they are definitely living on a cloud more than usual. Judging by their interpretations of this fairytale illustration they felt a connection too.

Out of the mouths of babes...

They are waiting for the magic to begin on Christmas.

I like it. Space.

It's Christmas Eve.

They are touching the stars.

It's like a gift they've just opened.

They want to move the stars.

Amazing.

Angels on a cloud.

After days of mall madness, mayhem, holiday parties and school recitals I feel more like a fallen angel this morning than mom on a cloud. I guess there's always the phamaceutical route, but I'd prefer to get some grown up magical thinking the old fashioned way - caffeine. Hopefully, I'll get my wings back after the extra-large and extremely sugared up coffee I'll be consuming in my very near future.

Here's to a little grown up magical thinking this holiday season! We could all use a little. Don't you think?

Check out her website to see more of her beautiful illustrations.

www.yokofurusho.com

This Might Be Santa's Fave Stop...

2011-12-17T15:56:00.007-05:00

Somewhere in Northern Westchester.

Me thinks they are offering Santa more than milk and cookies at this house...

Earlier today my daughter pointed to this sign in front of a house in our town and asked me if they had put it up backwards. Well, I guess it tells you something about my sense of humor because I looked at it and immediately burst out laughing. It took my teenage daughter a moment to realize why I found it so funny. Then she informed me I had a sick mind. Clearly, we've come a long way from her kindergarten days and the tooth fairy. Sharing that kind of adult joke with your own child is a weird milestone, but I must say it's also kind of terrific too.

I decided I just had to have evidence of our neighbor's faux pas or sense of humor - we don't know them so we couldn't be sure of their intentions. In a town that takes itself pretty seriously this flag is definitely not the norm and I needed evidence. It's also right on the main road and it is noticeable. Of course, the moment I got out of the car with my camera the owner drove up in a bright red truck. It was especially lovely to see the large letters on the side spelling out: Fire Department. To say I wanted to die is an understatement. I decided to throw myself and my perverse humor under the bus, excuse me, truck, and tell him I thought the sign was funny. I also boldly asked if I could photograph it. This fireman was happy to oblige my photograph and confirmed the sign was completely intentional. He laughed and said it had taken him a few stores before he found the right one. I guess they figured Santa deserved a little excitement or a happy ending this holiday season.

His response made my day and I told him so. I think a donation to our local Fire Department is in order. First they save our chickens from certain death a few months ago and now they saved my dying sense of humor on this gray Saturday only eight days until Christmas. This was a week from hell and I am very grateful for this. My daughter, well, despite thinking her mother is a little crazy, is grateful her mother is smiling again.

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Message in a Cookie...

2011-12-13T13:15:00.009-05:00

I opened a fortune cookie the other night and found this little gem of a message.

Now, this is the kind of message I like. No one wants the one that says, "Watch your head, something may fall on it." or "A bird is circling above with good luck." No thanks, I think I'll pass on that omen. A good journey? Well, I'll take that any day.

www.fancyfortunecookies.com

Untraditional, but pretty awesome variation on the Fortune Cookie...

Did you know the fortune cookie as we know it didn't originate in China at all? It actually originated in the America, but there are conflicting accounts of who began the tradition. One argument according to ChineseFortuneCookie.com is that "the idea of putting a message inside a cookie did originate with the Chinese Way back in 13th and 14th Centuries, when China was occupied by the Mongols, but in a different form. Chu Yuan Chang, a patriotic revolutionary of the time made plans for an uprising against the Mongols. In order to instruct all the Chinese of the date of the uprising, messages were hidden in 'Moon Cakes'. Moon Cakes contained a 'yolk' of Lotus Paste which the Mongols did not appreciate so this yolk was replaced with rice paper messages. The uprising was successful and the Ming Dynasty was born.

Thus, a tradition of giving cakes with messages was born and a Moon Festival regularly celebrated.

It is thought that this legend is what inspired the Chinese 49'ers who worked on the construction of the great American Railways through the Sierra Nevada to California. At Moon Festival time they did not have any moon cakes but only biscuits. So out of necessity they improvised and the Fortune Cookie was born."

True or false?

Who knows? Apparently this is a pretty contentious issue. All I know for sure is that no Chinese meal here in America is complete without them.

Check out their website for more trivia on the subject and maybe even order up some of your own from Fancy Fortune Cookies. I like that idea, especially if I can tailor the messages to my own liking. I'd love to see my daughters faces when they open cookies that tell them, "Be nice to your mother." or "Go clean your room or else..." I may have to put that plan into action.

These are some seriously decadent fortune cookies.

www.fancyfortunecookies.com

It's funny, usually I let my kids grab the cookies with their usual gusto, but this time they left one behind. I like to think I was meant to read this one.

"Wish You A Good Journey."

I'm going to take this as a good omen for the big journey of life since this holiday season I plan on staying local until for a couple of months. Yes, the suitcases will be collecting dust for a little while - unless, of course, something suddenly comes up...hey you never know?

If you happen to be traveling soon, I'd like to pay the kind words forward and wish you a good journey too. Happy Holidays. It's officially, twelve days till Christmas!

http://www.fancyfortunecookies.com

If Those Steps Could Talk...

2011-12-10T08:30:00.007-05:00

City Steps, Inwood, NY

Have you every taken a moment during your travels near or far and noticed the stairs? I have. I had no choice. After years of pushing baby strollers you learn to respect the stairs. I remember when a broken elevator and the unexpected flight of stairs would threaten my sanity. Back then anything I couldn't roll over was my nemesis and could stop me cold. How do I get a baby or two, the rickshaw like stroller with it's ten bags hanging on the sides up or down the behemoth of a staircase in front of me without any resulting human carnage? I say human because various staircases humbled me as groceries rolled, cracked and bounced onto to the street behind me falling from suddenly untethered bags. Don't judge me. I never looked back. Saving the tomatoes was not an option. Four kids and many, many strollers later, yes, I respect the stairs.

One word comes to mind when I look at the photo below from somewhere in Korea: decisions.

A riddle: How would you get two kids, one stroller and ten plastic grocery bags up or down stairs like these?

Risk your life or go the Blanche DuBois route and rely on the kindness of strangers?
Either way, the answer is: With great difficulty.

Whether they are grand or humble, made of wood, stone or metal, when I encounter a staircase these days sans rickshaw I see them a little differently. I think of the stories they could tell. I wonder whose secrets they hold. Who's sat on them exhausted and tired wanting to give up? Who's run them two at a time eager to reach the top? What are people thinking as they're trudging upward or hanging on going down? Did a mom ever take the big fall with baby in hand? How many children felt victory getting to the top on their own for the very first time? Did those parents, like me, have silent heart attacks while watching those little legs take them to higher and more dangerous ground? What stories could those staircases tell?

The Secrets of the Stairs, sounds like an old Nancy Drew book. I kind of like it.

The Door's lyrics on the stairs, kind of genius don't you think?

Occupy the Holidays...

2011-12-08T12:32:00.006-05:00

Well, I may not be the biggest fan of Occupy Wall Street,

but I loved this photo suggesting some pretty great ideas on how we might Occupy Christmas...

Credit cards...

Well, I'll try not to melt mine with frequent use, but it could happen with four kids despite my best efforts.

Make handmade gifts...

One of my favorite gifts last year came from my youngest daughter. She gave me a box of memories with some of her favorite things and a bunch of coupons for ways we could spend time together.

This year I wouldn't mind opening up that painting my oldest daughter has been working on...(hint!)

Charitable donations...

Absolutely. Every year I take the kids shopping to help stock a local food pantry or we answer a Dear Santa letter from church. It's great to see them excited about giving for a change. I hope it's a lesson that sticks.

Spend time not money...

The best gift of all.

Really.

It's also called making some memories and what's better than that?

It's free.

No one ever out grows them and you can't screw up the color or size.

When I think back about past holidays, and those of my childhood it's not the gifts that come to mind, it's the time we spent together as a family. Were they anything like a Norman Rockwell painting or the perfect family gatherings on television? Umm, that answer is a resounding no. My family is a pretty eclectic and to put it politely, eccentric group, but that's what made the holidays interesting. My favorite memories are the crazy holiday parties and dinners where we laughed, ate, listened to the grandmothers complain, opened some gifts, ate some more, and watched the nuttiness of the holiday unfold. We would die laughing and roll our eyes when one wacky uncle - who shall remain nameless - would drink way too much and would tell us he talked to god. Yes, he had a special relationship with god - also know as, "The Man Upstairs". Budweiser had a special way of bringing out that uncle's spiritual side. Good times. Then there were the arguments. Well, no holiday was ever complete with out some political observation turning into a very loud discussion that never seem to make much sense, but definitely spiced up the mood.

I can't tell you a single gift that really stands out or I would trade for any of those moments. I can only hope I raise my own kids to appreciate the chaos too.

I have my work cut out for me on that count. One of my daughters listed about 50 items she hopes to find on Christmas morning. That is so NOT happening. This Santa is going to make some executive decisions and include at least one evening with some boisterous relatives, and of course Grandma Kay. My daughter doesn't know it, but that's going to be my Secret Santa gift to her. I'm going to bet that someday she'll have no idea what color Ugg's she wanted this Christmas, but she'll remember the night her crazy family took some time out of all their busy schedules and just spent some time together.

Happy Holidays!

So...Why Thailand?

2011-12-07T07:55:00.003-05:00

Someone asked me the other day, "Why on earth Thailand? It's so far away!" It kind of annoyed me. Why NOT Thailand? Then I paused. Truth be told I probably wouldn't be going this winter if I weren't going to a writer's conference. It's a twenty hour flight each way if I'm lucky. It's not expensive once your arrive, but the air fare is pretty steep and I have to leave the kids for ten days. Those are all the reasons NOT to go, but I'm going. I know the kids will be fine, even though they are bummed they can't join me this time. As for the flight? Well, I figure I better get there before arthritis hits and it becomes too much of an endurance test. No, it's not a little jaunt or a vacation in the true sense. This trip is about the writing.

Can I write without going to the conference? Umm, yes, but spending time with other writer's and completely stepping out of my normal routine and "out of the box" has a way of freeing up the words.

I adore my kids, but I can't tell you how many times I'll be typing and the thought disappears because I hear the words, "Stop hitting me." or "Mom!!!!!!" Unfortunately, the four not-so-little munchkins have a way of freezing up the words. Well, the profane kind that swirl around my head at those moments are pretty free, but I try not to let those out. I swear I do try...

So, Thailand it is. This time it's a personal deadline. I need one or else I'd have to wear a scarlet "P" for the sin of procrastination. I should probably wear one anyway, I'm a master at it. So, with a departure date in my future, the pressure is on to get through a project I've been working on for months.

Writing project aside, having something like a conference, a mini adventure trip or even a cooking class scheduled when you visit a country for the first time is never a bad idea. It can help you get over that "lost and lonely" feeling so common to travelers. Have you ever arrived at your destination jet lagged with your luggage wheel broken only to find the room isn't ready? Then you're told to come back in an hour, but the city you're in seems to have been rebuilt since your map was created. A little seed of regret gnaws at you while you sit in the closest, but least appetizing place you can find.

I've definitely had those moments. They're really awesome when you have a bunch of kids with you. It can make you almost med-ready or at feel desperate for a strong cocktail. Then again, I have those moments in my kitchen, but that's just life. Somehow, a day or two into the trip it always seems to come together and I forget the poor start. Having a place to go, knowing I'll have contact with other people seems get me settled in much faster.

It also ensures that you'll meet people. The last conference I attended in Paris I met some amazing people I now count among my friends. I'm hoping I have the same luck this time around.

So, this working Christmas combination birthday gift to myself is looking pretty interesting. Chiang Mai looks amazing. I'm told anyone who visits Thailand must make a stop there. I'm intrigued by the Buddist culture, the tonal language and the people. I've heard the food is amazing. I'm also praying for inspiration while I'm there. Wish me luck.

Until then, back to the holidays. I've got a silver tinsel colored tree to deliver to Grandma Kay and it's about a day late. The woman is not amused by my procrastination. I wonder where I picked up the habit?

Guess Where This Girl Going in February?

2011-12-05T10:45:00.000-05:00

Two months from now I'm..

Leavin' on a jet plane,

don't know when I'll be back again...

Only kidding, ten days.

The count down has begun.

The flight is about 20 hours.

It's the furthest away I've ever been.

Spiritually it's pretty Zen.

Chiang Mai, Thailand.
Let the count down begin!

xo

Monks-in-Chiang-Mai

2011-12-05T10:44:00.002-05:00

Monks-in-Chiang-Mai, a photo by njukljuk on Flickr.

So I finally took the plunge and booked my trip. Thailand, here I come.

Remembering Christmas Trees Past...

2011-12-03T13:04:00.003-05:00

photo credit: pinterest via Sur la Route

Getting the tree home...

Our tree came early this year. I found it outside our local supermarket on Thanksgiving morning. A few days later it was delivered and installed safely in our stand without risking anyone's life. It wasn't always so easy. Tying it ourselves to the roof of the car? We've almost lost a few that way over the years. It was worse when I was growing up. I remember countless fiasco's dragging home Christmas trees down Broadway in New York City with my mother. Some guys from Vermont would set up shop in front of the A&P every year. I remember feeling bad for them because they would sleep in a camper truck parked on the street. Each year I would nag my mother until she would walk with me to pick out a tree and along the way I'd listen to her go on and on swearing we were getting an artificial tree the following year. Then she'd let me pick out the tallest one we could find and afford. If we were lucky, one of my brother's or a neighbor would help us get it home and then phase 2 would begin. The arduous process of getting the invariably crooked tree to look straight in the stand. Phase 3 was the traditional drowning of the tree in silver tinsel to hide it's imperfections. The dizzying rainbow of blinking lights helped too.

One year while I was away at college my mother decided a table top tree would suffice. The day I arrived home for the holiday break I walked in the living room after putting my bags down, took one look at the sorry Charlie Brown tree sitting there and promptly walked out the door. A tiny tree or a fake one was sacrilegious in my view and I was really annoyed. I went straight to the tree guy and bought a much larger one without thinking about how I was getting that thing home. I dragged it a couple of blocks cursing my impulsive decision when two scruffy looking guys approached me. I was suddenly terrified. It was freezing cold, late and the only other people around were in the cars and buses zooming by. It turns out my biggest problem was the overwhelming guilt I felt when I realized they just wanted to carry the tree for me. They wouldn't even take a tip from me after getting it safely to my building.

I've never forgotten about the kindness of those two strangers. I hope they are well this holiday season.

The Red Leather Jacket, Paris...May, 2011

2011-12-01T13:53:00.011-05:00

Her name was Isabelle. She walked into the small, crowded wine shop near our loft in the 5th arrondissement in Paris and I noticed her immediately. I was at a wine tasting with friends from our writer's conference. She was wearing a perfectly distressed red leather jacket, a dark gray crocheted scarf tossed over her shoulders, some jeans and flats. She had the kind of look and confidence that french women seem to have in spades. You know the one that says, "What, I just threw this together." They stand before you looking perfectly relaxed and expertly styled in a look that would take someone else (cough...me) hours of failed attempts and an equal amount of insecurity. I mean, really, she was wearing a red leather motorcycle jacket with an old wooly scarf, she was definitely over forty and she most definitely looked awesome in it. So, I decided I must have a jacket just like hers in the same color: red. Who cares if my entire wardrobe can be described in three shades black, gray, and brown. Okay, occasionally, I will wear a blue sweater, but red? I own one and I rarely touch it. This did not deter me. If she could do it...well, I was going to copy her. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, right? As luck would have it the friend from the conference who had invited us to the tasting knew Isabelle's boyfriend and we all ended up going out for drinks that evening. Well, Isabelle had as much personality as style and by the end we exchanged phone numbers and the exact location where I could get a jacket just like hers - near the big flea market a few metro stops away. I just happened to be planning a visit to the market on my last day in Paris...

A day or so later, I found myself searching for the little shop she described. At first my friend, Liz and I couldn't find it. I was so disappointed my mission had been a failure. We walked up and down the market and stopped every time the color red caught my eye. I gave up and bought a safe, simple, brown velvet vintage jacket and a nice classic purse, in the same shade. Brown. Both of them screamed: Risk free for mom's. I was kind of bummed. Then, as we walking down the street outside the market and heading toward the metro the shop seemed to appear out of no where and there was the jacket. It was right in front of me. I put it on. It fit perfectly. After days wanting it, then searching for it, I suddenly froze. I couldn't buy it. My friend tried persuading me. Liz looked at me incredulously. She thought I was nuts. Hadn't I been obsessed with that jacket? Isn't this why we came? I couldn't do it. I haggled with the shop owner a bit, then just walked out the door, telling myself I didn't really want it. I did. I said I'd get one at home or order it. I didn't.

Have you ever gone somewhere and come across something you just had to have, but then over thought it and walked away only to end up obsessing over it later on. The red leather jacket, the one I so desperately wanted in Paris last May, it's the one that got away.

I still think about it. I wonder if I went back, Is the shop still there? Could I find it? Maybe someday I'll try. I know it would be easy to find a similar red leather jacket here, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be from that trip to Paris and somehow that might make a difference. Ah, regrets. Risks not taken. Then again, Paris is always worth another visit...

Around Paris, May 2011...

At a reader's request...here's a close approximation..but not quite...

Ironic don't you think? The I Heart NY shirt on that French woman in Paris.

She was the owner of this vintage shop and I adored her.

Very funny woman as her attire might suggest.

God, this photograph would have been so much better if I were wearing the damn jacket...

C'est la vie.

Where I'd Like To Be Right Now...

2011-11-28T14:52:00.002-05:00

After hearing my name in it's various forms called out and cried out for the last four days,

silence is golden.

Somewhere No One Knows My Name?

Of course, that could be a diner two towns away, but that fantasy isn't nearly as interesting as the possibilities in places far, far away.

Dublin, Thailand, Hawaii...or even Key West

endless choices...alas, not now, not yet.

All in due time...

-C