Last night Aniella approached me with the claim that her bottom middle tooth was wiggling back and forth. I looked inside and sure enough, it was barely hanging by a thread. I was about to begin the inquest to determine how she knocked it loose when I suddenly spied a permanent tooth right behind it. And what did I do? I cried right in her face. Way to go!
Friends, my first born has said goodbye to being a baby and is now entering her legitimate childhood. She'll be 5 at the end of this month.
I'm kinda freaked out.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
A Notable Stephanie Klein Post
Came across this and thought I'd share. The 2nd graph is a little weird, but whatever. I get the gist of what she's trying to say and I like it:
---------------------------------------
The past seems easier sometimes, and I think holding onto it allows me, somehow, to move forward. I always hear how you have to let the past go, have to live in the moment, control your now. I think I'm able to move forward because I hold onto the past. Knowing there are people to go back to, friends there for you in another city, options, makes you less afraid to try new ones. New cities, new friends, new things. Because the past, what you knew, what you had, is always there. You already know what it's like. Holding onto the past can sometimes be freeing. It's my security blanket, for sure.
I haven't shared this yet, but I've been secretly turning our guest bedroom into a recreation of my apartment bedroom from New York. When I feel sad or in need of encouragement and strength, I climb into that bed, with that same bedding, my same soft sheets, from a frivolous time in my life, when I wasn't married and didn't have to answer to or compromise with anyone. So I could spend $220 on ONE PILLOW CASE--actually it was a Euro Sham, but still! Because there wasn't anyone telling me not to. It was my money, to spend as I pleased. But now there are joint priorities. Now when I'm in a store, I've become the kind of woman who says, "my husband would kill me." Because all he hears are all the things I want. A pool. A nanny. A music class for the kids. A new camera. But in that room, I can close my eyes and pretend for a moment that I'm just home from a birthday party, that I've just ordered in sushi, that Linus is still at the groomer or something. I can pretend it's just me again. And I need that, to be able to remember who I was before I became a wife and mother. Because I love that girl.
http://stephanieklein.blogs.com/greek_tragedy/2008/01/ding-dong-the-w.html
---------------------------------------
The past seems easier sometimes, and I think holding onto it allows me, somehow, to move forward. I always hear how you have to let the past go, have to live in the moment, control your now. I think I'm able to move forward because I hold onto the past. Knowing there are people to go back to, friends there for you in another city, options, makes you less afraid to try new ones. New cities, new friends, new things. Because the past, what you knew, what you had, is always there. You already know what it's like. Holding onto the past can sometimes be freeing. It's my security blanket, for sure.
I haven't shared this yet, but I've been secretly turning our guest bedroom into a recreation of my apartment bedroom from New York. When I feel sad or in need of encouragement and strength, I climb into that bed, with that same bedding, my same soft sheets, from a frivolous time in my life, when I wasn't married and didn't have to answer to or compromise with anyone. So I could spend $220 on ONE PILLOW CASE--actually it was a Euro Sham, but still! Because there wasn't anyone telling me not to. It was my money, to spend as I pleased. But now there are joint priorities. Now when I'm in a store, I've become the kind of woman who says, "my husband would kill me." Because all he hears are all the things I want. A pool. A nanny. A music class for the kids. A new camera. But in that room, I can close my eyes and pretend for a moment that I'm just home from a birthday party, that I've just ordered in sushi, that Linus is still at the groomer or something. I can pretend it's just me again. And I need that, to be able to remember who I was before I became a wife and mother. Because I love that girl.
http://stephanieklein.blogs.com/greek_tragedy/2008/01/ding-dong-the-w.html
Thursday, December 20, 2007
To: Gina & Kristi
I came on here to write something serious and became totally sidetracked by this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3hdytcAUjI
Oh. My. God.
Gainesville, Florida circa...I'm thinking 18 years ago. Gasp!
The "head on the door" part totally reminds me of the serial killer that was roaming around campus at the time.
Anyway, enjoy the clip. In my ripe old age, it sort of makes me dizzy.
While I was poking around I also found this one. I must say, a well-directed/well-edited music video from that time period is VERY difficult to find. Here is one of the very few:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTNpaaPHENE&feature=related
Love the camera work on the "drip gently into mental illness" line.
ps to Kristi: I've been going to PT. I'm 4 sessions deep, 5 tomorrow. You PT's are the worst human beings EVER. What do you think of low level laser therapy while we're at it?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3hdytcAUjI
Oh. My. God.
Gainesville, Florida circa...I'm thinking 18 years ago. Gasp!
The "head on the door" part totally reminds me of the serial killer that was roaming around campus at the time.
Anyway, enjoy the clip. In my ripe old age, it sort of makes me dizzy.
While I was poking around I also found this one. I must say, a well-directed/well-edited music video from that time period is VERY difficult to find. Here is one of the very few:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTNpaaPHENE&feature=related
Love the camera work on the "drip gently into mental illness" line.
ps to Kristi: I've been going to PT. I'm 4 sessions deep, 5 tomorrow. You PT's are the worst human beings EVER. What do you think of low level laser therapy while we're at it?
Friday, December 7, 2007
The Suspension Continues
I'm in waiting mode again in regards to him. Waiting for answers, waiting for money, waiting to see what the immediate future holds, hoping that the the distant future will be much better, but no longer trying to kid myself.
No bones about it, the blame rests on alcohol and some psychiatric ailment. Everyone (including him) guesses bi-polar disorder, yet when he thinks about getting help he ultimately chickens out. So, we may never know.
What we do know is that he drinks. A lot.
When he's not drinking and he's not in a psych funk he somewhat resembles the guy I married (far from perfect, very rough around the edges, but with great potential). It never lasts long though -- maybe a split second. It's like catching a glimpse of the old him through the window of a passing train, and when that happens it feels like someone in my life has died all over again. It's easy to hate the loser, but a glance of the old him conjures up something remotely similar to... sadness. Not for what I've lost, but for what *he's* lost, and for what my girls never had.
He hasn't held a real job in about 1.5 years now. He works odd jobs here and there, but ultimately decides to drink too much, miss work and get fired.
I have gotten him multiple gigs, all of which he's blown. And unfortunately, a couple were with friends, so I look a moron.
I can't refer him anymore. Not for work, not to my children, not to myself.
It's come down to the nitty gritty now. He may be the only person in my 40 year history to be truly excommunicated. I don't call him an "ex" for nothing.
No bones about it, the blame rests on alcohol and some psychiatric ailment. Everyone (including him) guesses bi-polar disorder, yet when he thinks about getting help he ultimately chickens out. So, we may never know.
What we do know is that he drinks. A lot.
When he's not drinking and he's not in a psych funk he somewhat resembles the guy I married (far from perfect, very rough around the edges, but with great potential). It never lasts long though -- maybe a split second. It's like catching a glimpse of the old him through the window of a passing train, and when that happens it feels like someone in my life has died all over again. It's easy to hate the loser, but a glance of the old him conjures up something remotely similar to... sadness. Not for what I've lost, but for what *he's* lost, and for what my girls never had.
He hasn't held a real job in about 1.5 years now. He works odd jobs here and there, but ultimately decides to drink too much, miss work and get fired.
I have gotten him multiple gigs, all of which he's blown. And unfortunately, a couple were with friends, so I look a moron.
I can't refer him anymore. Not for work, not to my children, not to myself.
It's come down to the nitty gritty now. He may be the only person in my 40 year history to be truly excommunicated. I don't call him an "ex" for nothing.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Aunt Dorothy the Nun, 1920 - 2007
Writing a religious send-off is a bit of a departure for me, but here goes:
On February 27, 1920, our dear Aunt Dorothy was lovingly welcomed by her parents, Marie and Thomas Maher, and within 2 weeks was baptized in St. Malachy's church in what is known as East New York, a section of Brooklyn. Six years later, Aunt Dorothy attended the parish elementary school and continued her education in Bishop McDonnell High School, fondly known in the religious community as "the novitiate on the parkway" since so many vocations to religious life rose among their student body.
Aunt Dorothy entered the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Joseph on September 8, 1941 and found the missing link in her young adult life through the practice of prayer and meditation.
Aunt Dorothy could be described as a "straight shooter," where a "spade was a spade" and a "rose by any other name smelled just as sweet." In her life, God came first, and her philosophy could be expressed in the words of the prophet Zephaniah:
"Fear not, be not discouraged, the Lord our God is in our midst."
Aunt Dorothy was a school teacher who obtained her masters degree from Queens College, and brought to students in Brooklyn, Long Island and Rockville Centre a spirit vibrant with Christ-like love.
Having served the Lord for 53 years, Aunt Dorothy faced her inevitable winter of life. During her first 2 years at the Maria Regina Residence she continued to find ways of spreading her joy to those around her. The day came, however, when she prayed:
"I do not wrestle any more. I only wait for you, my Lord, to bring my dry bones into dancing once again!"
Yet, she willingly accepted that such a request would not be granted in this world.
Aunt Dorothy completed her cycle of life on November 28. We thank her for blessing us with the time she spent with us. Through the years she helped us to appreciate the joy to be found in each day, to recognize that we don't have to meet life challenges alone, to find the song in every voice around us, and to "write our trials in the sand and carve our blessings in stone."
Aunt Dorothy, you will always live in our hearts. Thank you for the many years of amazing memories, both from our childhood and as adults. It won't be the same knowing that you're not here with us anymore. I will especially think of you every Thanksgiving as I prepare to eat our coveted turkey neck. You'll be happy to know that Aniella and Ina seem to want to continue the tradition.
If there is indeed a Heaven, please give mommy a big hug and a kiss and tell her that we love her. Ditto for grandma and grandpa and daddy and everyone else we've loved who has moved on.
Love,
Susan and Richard, your loving niece and nephew
On February 27, 1920, our dear Aunt Dorothy was lovingly welcomed by her parents, Marie and Thomas Maher, and within 2 weeks was baptized in St. Malachy's church in what is known as East New York, a section of Brooklyn. Six years later, Aunt Dorothy attended the parish elementary school and continued her education in Bishop McDonnell High School, fondly known in the religious community as "the novitiate on the parkway" since so many vocations to religious life rose among their student body.
Aunt Dorothy entered the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Joseph on September 8, 1941 and found the missing link in her young adult life through the practice of prayer and meditation.
Aunt Dorothy could be described as a "straight shooter," where a "spade was a spade" and a "rose by any other name smelled just as sweet." In her life, God came first, and her philosophy could be expressed in the words of the prophet Zephaniah:
"Fear not, be not discouraged, the Lord our God is in our midst."
Aunt Dorothy was a school teacher who obtained her masters degree from Queens College, and brought to students in Brooklyn, Long Island and Rockville Centre a spirit vibrant with Christ-like love.
Having served the Lord for 53 years, Aunt Dorothy faced her inevitable winter of life. During her first 2 years at the Maria Regina Residence she continued to find ways of spreading her joy to those around her. The day came, however, when she prayed:
"I do not wrestle any more. I only wait for you, my Lord, to bring my dry bones into dancing once again!"
Yet, she willingly accepted that such a request would not be granted in this world.
Aunt Dorothy completed her cycle of life on November 28. We thank her for blessing us with the time she spent with us. Through the years she helped us to appreciate the joy to be found in each day, to recognize that we don't have to meet life challenges alone, to find the song in every voice around us, and to "write our trials in the sand and carve our blessings in stone."
Aunt Dorothy, you will always live in our hearts. Thank you for the many years of amazing memories, both from our childhood and as adults. It won't be the same knowing that you're not here with us anymore. I will especially think of you every Thanksgiving as I prepare to eat our coveted turkey neck. You'll be happy to know that Aniella and Ina seem to want to continue the tradition.
If there is indeed a Heaven, please give mommy a big hug and a kiss and tell her that we love her. Ditto for grandma and grandpa and daddy and everyone else we've loved who has moved on.
Love,
Susan and Richard, your loving niece and nephew
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Birthday Greetings in My Mail
Thanks, ya'll. I loved the walk down Memory Lane. :0)
From Julie in Florida:
What I remember most of us is our band. I found a “publicity shot” of us at The Wall in Gainesville recently. You don’t look any different, damn you. If my scanner was working, I’d attach it. We called ourselves “The Backseat Nothings" and I remember at the time thinking it was a bit of a silly name, but I like it now. We never played out anywhere, but we would have practice at Phil’s house or Doug’s, remember? I recall going to the studio and recording that song. What was the name of that song you wrote? I can’t believe I actually played guitar on a studio recording. We were so young. I think you were just 19 and I was 21. That’s a long, long time ago, my friend. Now we both have kids and the world is a much smaller place. Remember that guy Steve? I wonder where he is. He was in some frat and we used to tease him about that… Then there was this guy… Chad maybe? I don’t remember what he played. Likely another guitar. Then we had a sometimes drummer who seemed old who was probably 29, and of course there was Doug. Then it was all over when the two of you moved to NY. The rest is history….
Loved seeing you TG weekend… Your kids are gorgeous…. Even if they do need a spanking or two (just kidding). Love, Julie
From Kristi in North Carolina (old college roommate):
My fun memory of you (there are so many that it is hard to choose just one) is
New Years Eve in Gainesville, Florida. We were YOUNG. Remember when we waited until the last minute to make plans with our significant others and we decided to ring in the new year at a laid back place with good appetizers?
Well, that place was closed and we ended up at that other spot. I can't remember the name of either place now, but I remember the night itself quite well. We kept getting approached by lovely ladies in pagent-style gowns asking us if we were going to stay "for the show." I remember thinking something seemed strange and that they were somewhat over-dressed for a college town on New Year's eve. You chimed in and said "nothing is strange -- you're just clueless." It turned out to be a drag show, with us having stumbled into a gay, bi-, etc bar. Stan seemed to be their approval rater and Doug got so drunk that he was making "dinosaur" noises in the bathroom and you sent Stan in to "rescue" him!! It was so much fun. I think that may be my most memorable New Year's Eve ever!
Happy Birthday, my dear!!! I really do miss you in my life. I hope this year is a better one for you and please let me know if there in anything I can do for you. I mean it sincerely--not just words or gesture. Love you, Kristi
From Dragan in Montreal (whom I met on the Serbian Cafe politics forum during the bombing of Belgrade):
I was actually waiting for Fidel's death to be confirmed before continuing our last conversation, which started with *your* announcement of his death a few months ago. Recently I realized that while he is kicking back eating a pork roast we may exchange few words, so here goes:
In the long run, we will all be dead and ultimately you will be right ;) In the short term you remain a pain in the Fidel’s ass. Best regards, Dragan Jankovic
From Lori (former sister-in-law and friend):
My favorite memory of ours is when you and I tried to make truffels for your brother one Valentine's Day. We were smashing chocolate on the floor with a hammer, and gave up at some point because we didn't have the patience to do everything properly. Fast forward to a bunch of us eating solid chocolate out of a bowl with forks, probably stoned. Happy Birthday. Love, Lori
From Miri in Berlin:
Liebe Susan,
It all started in a club called "Hafenbar" in Berlin, Germany. We were both overheated after experiencing "German Schlagermusik," so I helped you to pin up your wonderful blond hair in the absence of any hair tie. You were there with a guy I knew from medical school, and you sent me Valentines sweets when you were back in NY.
That started a thick friendship. Since that day we emailed and called each other a lot and several times we even managed to see each other.
Once we had a wild party fortnight in NY that I will never forget. One evening in particular we went to a bar in Manhattan and some guys blocked the way from our group of friends to the ladies restrooms. We talked with them for awhile and our escorts weren't happy about that at all. These guys doing the blocking told us they were "models" and we earned some big laughs telling this to our waiting friends when we later managed to get back to them. I'll never forget the next day when we entered the subway and every single advertisement in the whole train was filled with pictures of one of those guys that had blocked our way (Norbert- being the top male model of his year). I still sometimes see him on very big posters of big brands in shop windows or stuff.
Then we grew up, we grew families and during all that time I loved our talks so much.
9/11 and German angst brought scratches, but for heavens sake nothing irrepairable.
I love you more as a sister than as a friend and even if we don t talk much I'm still having conversations with you in my mind and forever!
I m so happy to have you and I wish you all the best for your birthday: C.O.N.G.R.A.T.U.L.A.T.I.O.N.S!!!!!!!!!!!
Love, Mirjam
From Julie in Florida:
What I remember most of us is our band. I found a “publicity shot” of us at The Wall in Gainesville recently. You don’t look any different, damn you. If my scanner was working, I’d attach it. We called ourselves “The Backseat Nothings" and I remember at the time thinking it was a bit of a silly name, but I like it now. We never played out anywhere, but we would have practice at Phil’s house or Doug’s, remember? I recall going to the studio and recording that song. What was the name of that song you wrote? I can’t believe I actually played guitar on a studio recording. We were so young. I think you were just 19 and I was 21. That’s a long, long time ago, my friend. Now we both have kids and the world is a much smaller place. Remember that guy Steve? I wonder where he is. He was in some frat and we used to tease him about that… Then there was this guy… Chad maybe? I don’t remember what he played. Likely another guitar. Then we had a sometimes drummer who seemed old who was probably 29, and of course there was Doug. Then it was all over when the two of you moved to NY. The rest is history….
Loved seeing you TG weekend… Your kids are gorgeous…. Even if they do need a spanking or two (just kidding). Love, Julie
From Kristi in North Carolina (old college roommate):
My fun memory of you (there are so many that it is hard to choose just one) is
New Years Eve in Gainesville, Florida. We were YOUNG. Remember when we waited until the last minute to make plans with our significant others and we decided to ring in the new year at a laid back place with good appetizers?
Well, that place was closed and we ended up at that other spot. I can't remember the name of either place now, but I remember the night itself quite well. We kept getting approached by lovely ladies in pagent-style gowns asking us if we were going to stay "for the show." I remember thinking something seemed strange and that they were somewhat over-dressed for a college town on New Year's eve. You chimed in and said "nothing is strange -- you're just clueless." It turned out to be a drag show, with us having stumbled into a gay, bi-, etc bar. Stan seemed to be their approval rater and Doug got so drunk that he was making "dinosaur" noises in the bathroom and you sent Stan in to "rescue" him!! It was so much fun. I think that may be my most memorable New Year's Eve ever!
Happy Birthday, my dear!!! I really do miss you in my life. I hope this year is a better one for you and please let me know if there in anything I can do for you. I mean it sincerely--not just words or gesture. Love you, Kristi
From Dragan in Montreal (whom I met on the Serbian Cafe politics forum during the bombing of Belgrade):
I was actually waiting for Fidel's death to be confirmed before continuing our last conversation, which started with *your* announcement of his death a few months ago. Recently I realized that while he is kicking back eating a pork roast we may exchange few words, so here goes:
In the long run, we will all be dead and ultimately you will be right ;) In the short term you remain a pain in the Fidel’s ass. Best regards, Dragan Jankovic
From Lori (former sister-in-law and friend):
My favorite memory of ours is when you and I tried to make truffels for your brother one Valentine's Day. We were smashing chocolate on the floor with a hammer, and gave up at some point because we didn't have the patience to do everything properly. Fast forward to a bunch of us eating solid chocolate out of a bowl with forks, probably stoned. Happy Birthday. Love, Lori
From Miri in Berlin:
Liebe Susan,
It all started in a club called "Hafenbar" in Berlin, Germany. We were both overheated after experiencing "German Schlagermusik," so I helped you to pin up your wonderful blond hair in the absence of any hair tie. You were there with a guy I knew from medical school, and you sent me Valentines sweets when you were back in NY.
That started a thick friendship. Since that day we emailed and called each other a lot and several times we even managed to see each other.
Once we had a wild party fortnight in NY that I will never forget. One evening in particular we went to a bar in Manhattan and some guys blocked the way from our group of friends to the ladies restrooms. We talked with them for awhile and our escorts weren't happy about that at all. These guys doing the blocking told us they were "models" and we earned some big laughs telling this to our waiting friends when we later managed to get back to them. I'll never forget the next day when we entered the subway and every single advertisement in the whole train was filled with pictures of one of those guys that had blocked our way (Norbert- being the top male model of his year). I still sometimes see him on very big posters of big brands in shop windows or stuff.
Then we grew up, we grew families and during all that time I loved our talks so much.
9/11 and German angst brought scratches, but for heavens sake nothing irrepairable.
I love you more as a sister than as a friend and even if we don t talk much I'm still having conversations with you in my mind and forever!
I m so happy to have you and I wish you all the best for your birthday: C.O.N.G.R.A.T.U.L.A.T.I.O.N.S!!!!!!!!!!!
Love, Mirjam
Monday, November 26, 2007
A Voice From the Past
Hey Ed, are you still alive?
I heard your voice in my head today, and it brought back a flood of memories in an instant.
Before that horrible day (or I should say the cummulation of many, all revolving around that same darn issue), do you remember how over-the-top happy we were? And how we would spend hours and days together without leaving each other's sides for a second? And how when we finally did, I would inevitably have some sort of deep penetrating freak-out about us and not know why, until you would point out that I simply missed you and hated being separated? You would then hang up the phone and run as fast as you could to me, and prove that you were right every time through your presence.
Well, just a little while ago I was having one of those freak-out / panic sessions for the very first time since there was you, except now, of course, it's over someone new, and he doesn't yet know that this happens sometimes (albeit rarely and certainly and obviously not with everyone I date, for crying out loud, since he's only the 2nd man thus far who is capable of provoking such attacks). :0)
The good news is that thanks to you and our past, I paused for a minute and thought about things and it came to me all on my own without having to report my freak-out to him, because you had the good sense to teach me about myself (probably to save your own ass, but whatever). A medical degree can come in handy like that sometimes, I suppose.
Anyway, in the midst of this freak-out I recognized that I simply miss him. And that I haven't loved anyone this much since I loved you all those years ago. Actually, if you want to know the truth, I love him far more, probably because he hasn't committed any horrific crimes yet. :0)
Wherever you are, I hope that you are well and that you were able to find love again too, because it's hard to come by when it's this good. And if you have been lucky enough to find it, I hope you've learned that it's certainly worth nurturing and behaving for, no matter what those demons may try to convince you to do late at night when they corner you in your darkness.
Regards to your mom and brother. I really do help all is well with you, just as I always have.
I heard your voice in my head today, and it brought back a flood of memories in an instant.
Before that horrible day (or I should say the cummulation of many, all revolving around that same darn issue), do you remember how over-the-top happy we were? And how we would spend hours and days together without leaving each other's sides for a second? And how when we finally did, I would inevitably have some sort of deep penetrating freak-out about us and not know why, until you would point out that I simply missed you and hated being separated? You would then hang up the phone and run as fast as you could to me, and prove that you were right every time through your presence.
Well, just a little while ago I was having one of those freak-out / panic sessions for the very first time since there was you, except now, of course, it's over someone new, and he doesn't yet know that this happens sometimes (albeit rarely and certainly and obviously not with everyone I date, for crying out loud, since he's only the 2nd man thus far who is capable of provoking such attacks). :0)
The good news is that thanks to you and our past, I paused for a minute and thought about things and it came to me all on my own without having to report my freak-out to him, because you had the good sense to teach me about myself (probably to save your own ass, but whatever). A medical degree can come in handy like that sometimes, I suppose.
Anyway, in the midst of this freak-out I recognized that I simply miss him. And that I haven't loved anyone this much since I loved you all those years ago. Actually, if you want to know the truth, I love him far more, probably because he hasn't committed any horrific crimes yet. :0)
Wherever you are, I hope that you are well and that you were able to find love again too, because it's hard to come by when it's this good. And if you have been lucky enough to find it, I hope you've learned that it's certainly worth nurturing and behaving for, no matter what those demons may try to convince you to do late at night when they corner you in your darkness.
Regards to your mom and brother. I really do help all is well with you, just as I always have.
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