I am Woman - Hear Me Bake!

So remember how my beloved son's birthday was a MONTH ago?

Well, he spent several weeks badgering me about a classroom cupcake party because "all the kids have cupcakes or ice cream or stuff that we eat at snacktime to celebrate their birthday...blah blah blah."

I pointed out the fact that we celebrated his birthday THREE times with THREE different cakes and THREE different sets of guests. He was unphased by this data.

The next day (Friday) I went to work and shared my pain about having to buy a bunch of cupcakes to bring in the following Monday. Of course, I keep company with wonderful over achieving uber mommies...they looked at me blankly and in unison said "But aren't you going to make the cupcakes from scratch? It only takes a second and it's really worth the time."

Time...in my life it's far more valuable than money. Which is why I took a huge paycut and career downshift to have time to be the mom and creative person I wanted to be rather than another high strung, anxiety driven executive management droid that I was.

So I spent last Sunday looking for all the ingredients I need. What an education that was. Did you know that the East Village is NOT a really great place to find cake flour....at one point I was tempted to throw up my hands and ask "who do you have to f*ck to find baking ingredients in this neighborhood?"

You see, I live in an area where most people have an oven in their kitchen only because it came with their apartment. Many of my childless friends/couples use the oven part for storage. When you live in a neighborhood that has ten zillion places to eat within a two block radius - sweating over pots and pans doesn't make much sense. Of course, it's also true that in the East Village - diet coke and coffee have their own dedicated space in the food pyramid.

Long story short. It's Sunday night at 9pm and I 'm toiling away, stirring the batter, getting the cocoa out for the frosting when I look at my husband and say "do you think that Ben will remember how his mom made cupcakes from scratch for his class snack/celebration?"
To which he replied "No. He'll just remember that he ate a chocolate frosted cupcake."

So I gently woke my son up, brought him into the kitchen and said "Look Ben. This is your mommy making cupcakes from scratch because she loves you more than anything in the world. So just in case I kick off sooner rather than later - I really want you to remember this."

He rubbed his eyes and said "okay" and returned to bed. The next day Ben woke up with a fever of 102. He and the 27 cupcakes stayed home from school.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Will write about today's anti-war march soon. Brian/Ben and I marched from Union Square to Foley Square down in the financial district. It was a beautiful day and there was an ocean of people.

Support Our Troops. Bring Them Home Now!!! Not Another Death For Oil...

This Bus Rules My Life!

Let's get something clear upfront. I suck at technology. I don't have flickr or whatever the hell people use to put pictures on their blog. It just isn't going to happen in my lifetime.

My husband knows what a luddite he's dealing with and puts pictures up for me whenever I ask/beg/cajole him to. Nice guy, my Brian...and easy on the eyes to boot!

I took this snap. Frankly, I don't think the M8 bus ever looked better - posing there all duded up as it waits to turn onto East Ninth Street.
The M8 takes all of the East Village to work...at least the 9 to 5 type jobs. Writers, artists, self employed, merchants, old people - they get to live up here and leave whenever they want.

The beloved M8 starts on Avenue D and E 10th Street swings down to E9th then crosses the East Village into Greenwich Village into the West Village ultimately turning around at the Westside Highway.

Each block is a lesson in varying degrees of gentrification. I never thought I'd be riding by a KMart everday and yet there it stands in the heart of Astor Place. I'll never forget when it first opened. I was taking a crowded bus back home one evening. As we crossed over Broadway at St. Mark's Place we passed the huge blazing red "K" lit up for the first time. Everyone stopped and stared - as if it was a burning cross. Thankfully a drag queen broke the tension. She stood up and blurted out "Attention KMart Shoppers!!!". We all howled.

The morning bus drivers rarely change so you get to know them pretty well. I suppose that's why I supported the MTA strike. Driving a bus in NYC is friggin' hard work.

It's Easter, baby!

We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we subconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Nelson Mandela

It's sunny and beautiful and Easter out today. There were several churches that emptied out at about noon. They merged onto the streets with other neighboring church goers. Everyone was carrying long pussy willow branches...you'll have to check with the catholic church on that one.

I LOVE looking at all the cute children decked out in pink bonnets, puffy dresses and light blue suits. When I was a little girl growing up in this neighborhood in the sixties, my Easter outfit was more along the lines of the picture book character Madeline. A navy blue spring coat and a matching wide brimmed hat that had a long black ribbon tied in a bow trailing down the back.

I was a total fem in my little girlhood. I would have worn that outfit everyday of the year if I could.

Benjamin found his Easter basket hidden in our courtyard garden. I'm so glad that he still believes in the Easter bunny. In his little world, miracles occur periodically throughout the year.

Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday is the Thursday before Easter. Christians remember it as the day of the Last Supper, when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and established the ceremony known as the Eucharist.

The night of Maundy Thursday is the night on which Jesus was betrayed by Judas in the Garden of Gethsemane.

The word "maundy" comes from the command given by Christ at the Last Supper, that we should love one another.

On Thursday night we got a call from my husband's brother David.

He and his partner live in San Francisco. David was diagnosed with HIV in 1987 and developed AIDS in 1994. He takes excellent care of himself, has a career, eats right, excersizes and uses all the medical cocktails and medications he should.

He learned last week that his liver has deteriorated badly. They'll try chemo to slow down the hepatitis. It appears to be a condition that he cannot recover from. We're all pretty much in a state of shock - he didn't feel ill and looked fine when we saw him a few weeks ago.

I have a favor to ask. When you have a moment, please take just a few seconds to pray for his comfort and well being. I would deeply appreciate it.

He is a beautiful sunflower of a person and needs all the love and blessings we can send him right now.

Window Dressing

The probability of moving from my east village neighborhood and family home is increasing as each day passes...unless of course the miracle I filed with God kicks in.

And so I begin my retrospective. Here's what I see when I wake up in the morning. Tompkins Square Park. Lots of it is green - just not the part I stare at after I rub my eyes at 6 am. It isn't a very big park - just one long city block (between A and B) by three street blocks (from East 10th, 9th, st. mark's to 7th).

My mom's family lived in this building. My dad was born in 1928 across the park next to St. Brigid's, a catholic church his Irish grandfather helped to build for their community.

People use the black top from dawn to midnight. Every type of person is out there at some point in the day. There's the old Chinese couples doing tai chi in the early morning hours, the homeless who wander in at dawn when the park gates open taking their seats near the chain link baseball backstop, urban catholic school students coming in double file for gym class before noon, babies learning how to walk and chase their shadows, teenage skate boarders of every shape, color and size flaunting their ability to defy gravity after school, immigrant workers playing a quick game of soccer or baseball and kids playing basketball, learning to bike, kick and throw a ball.

Give New Yorkers a few square feet of open space and they'll give you a show that never ends.

Massachusetts

Sometimes I miss it there.

I know I'm a hard core New Yorker at heart but Cambridge will always feel like my first great love. New York Times articles like this one - http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/05/us/05mass.html?th&emc=th discussing the commonwealth's attempt at universal healthcare for all of its citizens makes me nostalgic for a place that doesn't get lost in celebrity gossip, Wall Street, shopping and match.com

Why do they recognize gay marriage and we don't?

What to do....

Put Ben to sleep last night. Sang him a few songs and we both fell asleep together. At eleven I managed to drag myself over to my bed. Brian was still working on his lap top.

The only problem in that equation is that it's five in the morning and I'm ready to start my day. Of course when you live on Avenue A, you're never totally alone. Outside I can hear a few hard core clubbers walking home and chatting away. The cabs drive by and in the relative silence they almost sound like waves coming in at low tide. A few birds just started chirping out there in the darkness.

All in all 4 to 6:30 am is the quiet time around here.

It's looking like more and more like we'll have to move. Unless a miracle occurs and someone in our building moves out. Someone who lives adjacent to my apartment in some way. The likelyhood of that is about as slim as Dick Cheney joining a vegan commune in Vermont.

Our space is about 450 sq feet. At this point we are literally living on top of each other...what am I saying...once Ben was born we were already living on top of each other. It's becoming an increasingly impossible situation.

Of course, the three of us are sentimental fools. The thought of leaving this building and neighborhood terrifies us. It's very hard for East Villagers to go somewhere else. There isn't another place like it anywhere...on the planet.

I was born here, my son is the fifth generation of my family to be born here. This building and garden has been in my family for four generations. Each day we wake up and look out onto Tompkins Square Park.

Well...maybe a miracle will happen.

The Zen of Ben

March 30th - Today is Benjamin's birthday. He's officially eight beautiful years old.

I love his birthday. I remember the actual day so clearly. Wondering when I'd know for sure when it was time to go to the hospital and remembering my doctor saying "you'll know - because you won't ask me - you'll tell me." oh...was she right on that count!

The labor, the hard labor, the pushing. Feeling a bit terrified by the intensity and nature of this strange new pain. Knowing there was nowhere to hide and realizing that accepting the pain as part of the process was the answer - not wasting all my energy on resisting nature taking its course.

Since those beginning moments Ben has taught me so much about life. Parenting constantly demands that we confront ourselves. At the same time it gives us the best reason in the world to keep growing into the person our child inspires us to be. It reminds us (gently and sometimes not so gently) to live in the here and now. And that nothing is more important than love and communion between people.

I love this picture of Ben and me. He's my son but in many ways he's my sun. And here he is eclipsing me with his optimism, his humor, his kindness and unending curiousity about the world.

I'm blessed to bask in the shadow of his beautiful shimmering soul.

Ye Same Olde Story

Here I am in Colonial Williamsburg.

This is my maiden voyage into colonial reenactment communities and I'm kind of digging it.
These costumed people really know their history.

I can tell that most people feel a bit awkward talking to someone who is trying to convince you that it's 1774 and that we're sitting in a major national hub. But not me. I walk right into it with my eyes wide open. I suspend disbelief faster than most people can snap their fingers.

All my life I've suffered from what I call my "Diane Arbus" condition. I can plug into just about any world someone is in as long as I can make that connection between me and that person. The more I connect the less and less anything else matters. It can be a transexual,an Amish person, or bus driver or even a transexual Amish busdriver (well, former Amish) - - if they've got something to share that hits me...well, I'm there.

It's not good or bad. Wise or stupid. It's just a way of being.

But it can be a drag for friends and loved ones who want to high tail it out of ye old furniture makers shop while I'm sitting there asking the colonial dude twenty questions.

Spring in the South is hard to beat, folks!

Let the Festival Begin!

Yes, it's that time of year again.

Spring will soon be here and so will Benjamin's 8th birthday.

Since we celebrate it so many times, I've decided to reclassify this event as a festival rather than a birthday. This holiday is far more than a one day occurance. It usually spans out over two weeks.

The kickoff event took place today. Ben's daddy and I took him up to Barnard together with seven of his good friends. There they spent an hour with the fantastic dancer Mary Cochran (formerly with Paul Taylor Dance Company and Chair of the Barnard Dance Department). She's beyond cool.

She rounded up this rowdy bunch of no-necks and had them running, jumping, leaning, twisting, hopping, sliding for sixty minutes straight. It was amazing to see them in action under her guidance.

Afterwards we all went to V&T on Amsterdam across the street from St. John the Divine for pizza, soft drinks and birthday brownies. Party bags were distributed and all went home with smiles, tired muscles and full bellies. Isn't that a lovely state to be in? Every child deserves moments like that in their life.

Gottta go. It's time to do a full inventory of gifts received.

Erin Go Bragh

Happy Saint Patrick's Day everyone!

Today is one of my most favorite holidays of the year.

I love, love, love the St. Patrick's Day Parade and sadly this is the first time in ten years that I won't be marching in it with my friends from Fordham.

It's okay though - because it's a beautiful sunny day!!

Go out and enjoy :)

Spread Those Legs Girls!

I just returned from another trip to Boston/Cambridge. There are so many emotional ties there that it always takes a day to get used to the place. It's a home to me almost as much as New York is.

So what does my trip have to do with the preceding headline?

I'll tell you what. There is no getting away from women being crushed in their own seats on the subway - be it New York or Boston.

Why do men have to sit with their legs so far apart that you'd think they're about to enter the final stages of labor?

Meanwhile, women like me are forced to press our legs together and frequently even curl our shoulders for the duration of our commute as the men we are wedged between are essentially spread-eagle in their seats.

Are their genitals that sensitive to any type of pressure? If so, how the hell do they survive horseback riding, spinning classes or sex? Or is it more a question of territory? Should I be grateful that they don't unzip and urinate around their seats to mark their space?

Please explain.

Chaplin

Tonight is movie night.

We all get to pick one. Ben picked Charlie Chaplin's The Great Dictator. He loves Charlie Chaplin and has a bunch of his DVD's.

I love this film. It's hilarious and tragic. What a genius Charlie Chaplin was and how brave to put this anti-war anti-facist film out in 1939/40.

Rent it if you get a chance.

p.s. Jiminy Glick (Martin Short's film is hilarious!!! Another must see flick)

What - ever!

Well I got tagged. And frankly, I could use a little girly good cheer in my life right now. Here it goes:

Four Jobs I've had in my life:

Fundraiser
Waitress
Legislative Aide
Public Radio Project Coordinator

Four Movies I can watch over and over again:

The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Broadway Danny Rose
The Right Stuff
Cinema Paradiso
Age of Innocence, Being There, Harold and Maude, Laurel Canyon, Moonstruck, Rear Window

I could list dozens more.....

Four Places I've lived

New York City
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Amherst, Massachusetts
Baltimore, Maryland

Four TV shows I love to watch

a little boy, a big husband, a dog, a writing project, a full time job, going to the gym, housework, cooking, reading = no tv

Four Places I've been on vacation

Truro, Massachusetts
Paris, France
Merin County, California
Charleston, South Carolina

Four of my favorite food/drinks

Champagne
Filet Mignon
a big fat juicy ripe plum
NYC pizza (great when you're pregnant) and tuna melts
anything my Italian grandmother cooked for me

Four websites I visit daily

Google
My job's website
thecosmicpath.com (because I studied astrology for a while but got into a time crunch)
nytimes.com

Four places I'd rather be right now

In a stone cottage, sitting in front of a fireplace, warming my feet and reading a book.
In a cozy house in Northern California finishing my writing project
In a town house in Brooklyn/Manhattan/Hoboken that I OWNED
In an elegant hotel room in Paris having fun with my very silly husband

Snow Job

By now most of the country has heard that NYC had its biggest snow storm on record.

Twenty-six inches of snow fell on Central Park.

We certainly did get tons of snow. It was and is a beautiful sight to behold. I love how snow storms quiet the city down...especially at night.

I was amazed at how well the city handled the weather. Streets were ploughed and there were no disasters to speak of. As a matter of fact, everything was so dam manageable that I began to silently wonder whether it actually snowed as much as they said it did.

I was listening to the radio this evening while baking cookies for my son's school lunches...yes..I am a dork. I nearly burst out laughing when they aired a feature that was composed of New Yorkers openly rejecting the fact that it was a record breaking snow fall.

Sample: "Look...I'm not saying it didn't snow 26 inches in Central Park but it sure as heck didn't here in the middle of the street in Brooklyn...maybe 18 inches tops."

I love New York.

Revelation

Something you should know about me.

Until a few years ago I spent most of my life fending off a nasty streak of melancholy. I did however develop a few tactics along the way that helped me avoid total despair.

I've always enjoyed hearing about good things happening for people. Somehow it's always energized me. A buoy to hold onto until I was ready to swing into life again.

The last few weeks have been tough for me. Work stuff, family stuff, figuring out the future stuff...well let's just say 4 am was becoming the new wake up and stay up time.

On Monday, a good friend took the time to listen to me for twenty minutes as I tried to piece together my scattered thoughts over the phone at work. We didn't come up with any grand solutions. But I was heard. The next day I woke up having slept through the whole night. Very lucky to have that friend.

A blog friend of mine, a very lovely, funny young woman spent the last year doing battle with breast cancer. She was generous and brave enough to share her experiences with us. I've learned so much from her decisions, her fear, her courage, her strength and her sense of humor through it all.

Well it looks like her treatments are over and the pathology reports have stamped her cancer free! I'm so friggin happy. I feel like I'm back in third grade and it's the first day of spring when everything is soggy, messy and filled with hope and possibility.

Big Mama Calls It Quits!

Benjamin will be eight years old in March.

I finally feel that time has come to retire as the resident "bad guy".

Ever since Ben could run around in the Tompkins Square Park, I've been routinely called upon to be the creature/villian/space alien who chases my little son and his friends around the playground as they squeal with excitement. Up and over monkey bars, swings, slides, black tops, lurking behind trees....

I want to retire from being

the Monster
Darth Vader
the Joker/Riddler/Cat Woman/Mr. Freeze
the Scarey Ghost
the Confederate Army (sorry southern friends)
the Central Powers (WWI)
the Axis Powers (WWII)

and of course "Big Mama", my persona when wrestling Ben on my bed while he pretends to be Mucha Lucha - the Mexican Wrestling Champ (as seen on Cartoon Network) with a red/white/blue leather wrestling mask brought from Mexico from his dear Uncle Mike...

well maybe we'll still wrestle as long as I can get him in a head vice 50% of the time.

I suppose I shouldn't complain - my husband has put in a million more villian hours than I have without complaint. Maybe it's just me. I've got bad guy burn out.

Wednesday

I've been thinking about how disconnected I've become to my neighborhood in the last month or two. Maybe it's the holidays that threw me off.

Waiting for the M8 bus to take me across the Village, my mind is so absorbed lately in work, family issues, and a manuscript that floats in limbo.

I woke up this morning at 4 a.m. and couldn't fall back to sleep. I must have woken my son because moments later he asked me in a faint voice to come cuddle with him. As soon as I slipped into his little bed, he fell fast asleep.

It felt good to be useful. To be able to soothe him even though I felt anxious. Soon I fell asleep too. My child is such a blessing to me.

It's beautiful out today. In the high 30's, sunny and clear. Time to get back in the saddle and ride my ancient red bike around the neighborhood as I run errands.

You do the math

My son's tuition just went up to $24,995....better known as $25,000.

He will be entering third grade next year.

You do not want to know what percentage of our post tax income that tuition figure absorbs.

We received his report card last week. He did very well although sometimes during lessons he rests a book on his lap and starts to read when he gets bored.

He is seven years old and every other word out of his mouth is "fart".

He wears a WWII fighter pilot hat (brown leather with fleece lining) at all times.

Somehow I still feel this is money well spent on a beautiful mind.

Spring Fever

The weather is unseasonably warm here in the East Village. It's tricking me into feeling hopeful.
It's March weather.

March

...the time of year for every trip I ever took to London or Paris
...the beginning of lacrosse practice when I was a teenager
...the month my son was born
...watching and (better yet) marching in the crazy NYC St. Patrick's Day Parade
...the smell of soggy earth, windy days and intermittent sunshine
...a time of possibilities and start overs and the official dawning of SPRING FEVER when I fall in love with everything and everyone

I'm sure the artic winds are just around the corner waiting to slap some sense into me.