RED SOX ARE #1!!!!!
THANK YOU JESUS!
FINALLY - - I GET BACK TO A NORMAL LIFE...
UNTIL APRIL 2008!
THEN WE START ALL OVER AGAIN!
Monday, October 29, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Cool Poem
Poem: "35/10" by Sharon Olds, from Strike Sparks: Selected Poems 1980–2002. © Alfred A. Knopf, 2004.
35/10
Brushing out our daughter's brown
silken hair before the mirror
I see the grey gleaming on my head,
the silver-haired servant behind her. Why is it
just as we begin to go
they begin to arrive, the fold in my neck
clarifying as the fine bones of her
hips sharpen? As my skin shows
its dry pitting, she opens like a moist
precise flower on the tip of a cactus;
as my last chances to bear a child
are falling through my body, the duds among them,
her full purse of eggs, round and
firm as hard-boiled yolks, is about
to snap its clasp. I brush her tangled
fragrant hair at bedtime. It's an old
story—the oldest we have on our planet—
the story of replacement.
35/10
Brushing out our daughter's brown
silken hair before the mirror
I see the grey gleaming on my head,
the silver-haired servant behind her. Why is it
just as we begin to go
they begin to arrive, the fold in my neck
clarifying as the fine bones of her
hips sharpen? As my skin shows
its dry pitting, she opens like a moist
precise flower on the tip of a cactus;
as my last chances to bear a child
are falling through my body, the duds among them,
her full purse of eggs, round and
firm as hard-boiled yolks, is about
to snap its clasp. I brush her tangled
fragrant hair at bedtime. It's an old
story—the oldest we have on our planet—
the story of replacement.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Sucker
I've always felt that advertising copywriters are the bottom feeders of our society but I must admit to being a bit moved by the Liberty Mutual "personal responsiblity" ad campaign that they keep running over and over again during the ball game.
I don't know...maybe I'm just cracking under the pressure of the World Series.
I don't know...maybe I'm just cracking under the pressure of the World Series.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Souless
If I read one more article asking the public "has New York City lost it's soul?!", I will most definitely puke.
Where was the glare of the media spotlight for the last several years while unbridled gentrification efforts drove out just about any bohemian/working class/old immigrant/edginess left in the East Village?
My family has been in the East Village for five generations. I'm not naive to all the ups and downs this neighborhood had faced. But it always had a creative soul....until now. It's gone and it's unbelievable to me. Ann Magnuson once said that the East Village was becoming a theme park for the privileged. It's true. How sad.
Where was the glare of the media spotlight for the last several years while unbridled gentrification efforts drove out just about any bohemian/working class/old immigrant/edginess left in the East Village?
My family has been in the East Village for five generations. I'm not naive to all the ups and downs this neighborhood had faced. But it always had a creative soul....until now. It's gone and it's unbelievable to me. Ann Magnuson once said that the East Village was becoming a theme park for the privileged. It's true. How sad.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Red Sox Nation
Red Sox 3 / Indians 2 bottom of the 6th.
How many post seasons can this little family of mine take? It's getting a bit frightening.
Ben is getting older and louder. Brian had made a radical break from his WASPY demeanor with cheers and jeers going off the testosterone charts as each inning progresses.
Without prior discussion with yours truly, Ben informed me that his father now allows him to use the word "asshole" when referring to the opposing team in post season Red Sox Games.
I don't have the energy to challenge male tribal rituals. I'm sure Margaret Mead would agree.
How many post seasons can this little family of mine take? It's getting a bit frightening.
Ben is getting older and louder. Brian had made a radical break from his WASPY demeanor with cheers and jeers going off the testosterone charts as each inning progresses.
Without prior discussion with yours truly, Ben informed me that his father now allows him to use the word "asshole" when referring to the opposing team in post season Red Sox Games.
I don't have the energy to challenge male tribal rituals. I'm sure Margaret Mead would agree.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Footnote
Something else happened when I lost my bag with all my ID and important stuff in it.
As I was hurriedly peeking into every friggin' garbage can from Tompkins Square Park to Cheyenne Wyoming searching for my stuff, a weird realization came over me that made me pause - if only for a few precious minutes.
Now that my wallet, keys and phone were all gone - I was without formal proof of my identity - or at least it felt that way for a moment.
A profound feeling of relief swept over me.
I didn't have to be who I am anymore. I could just say fuck it and start again with a new name and any other new things I could think of.
I could have a karmic do-over.
Remember do-overs when you were a kid? How wasted they are on youth!!! Somehow the prospect of wiping the slate clean made me feel expansive and liberated.
Then I got it all back. And life went on as planned.
As I was hurriedly peeking into every friggin' garbage can from Tompkins Square Park to Cheyenne Wyoming searching for my stuff, a weird realization came over me that made me pause - if only for a few precious minutes.
Now that my wallet, keys and phone were all gone - I was without formal proof of my identity - or at least it felt that way for a moment.
A profound feeling of relief swept over me.
I didn't have to be who I am anymore. I could just say fuck it and start again with a new name and any other new things I could think of.
I could have a karmic do-over.
Remember do-overs when you were a kid? How wasted they are on youth!!! Somehow the prospect of wiping the slate clean made me feel expansive and liberated.
Then I got it all back. And life went on as planned.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Lost and Found
Over a week ago I lost my bag.
It was Sunday and I was going to the gym. My bike is not in the city so I used a spare that didn't have any baskets in the back like my trusty cheap old girly red bike does.
So I took a bungy cord and wrapped it around my gym bag and onto the bike rat trap. I optimistically left the building and about three minutes and ten blocks away from my house, I realized my bag had fallen off my bike.
My heart stopped as I frantically rode back home retracing my steps. It's a miracle I didn't get killed riding into oncoming traffic as I barely took my eyes off the ground. Alas, the bungy cord was in front of my building which meant that the bag fell off the minute I left.
Brian and Ben were playing catch in Tompkins Square Park. They keyed me into the apartment and the canceling of debit and credit cards began. I was more terrified at the prospect that I also lost my keys together with all my ID - extending a generous invitation to be robbed at a later date.
I didn't care as much about the IPOD, the cell phone, the two monthly metrocards, and the cash.
I just wanted my keys, my ID and my loyal and good hearted red wallet. It was a purchase I made at a street fair at Astor Place.....after I got robbed in the Columbia University area after my second day at work three years ago.....also in October.
It's funny what really matters to you.
Well, I sat on my bed, drenched in sweat and despair and burst into tears....and I do mean burst. I cried like a school girl. Ben looked frightened at first, then came over and wrapped his arms around me. In his nine years, he'd never seen me fall apart before. I apologized for freaking him out and explained why I was freaking out.
"Mom. It might be a good idea not to put everything important into your wallet."
Sage advice.
I gained my composure ,went outside and started checking all the garbage cans in Tompkins Square Park, figuring that anyone who took my bag wouldn't be too keen on marching around town with "Barnard - Women in Leadership Conference" emblazoned on their knapsack.
One hour later someone rang our bell and announced "I've got an ID for you". Some guy from the park staff across the street handed my husband my ID and basically took off, insisting that they didn't find anything else. Thirty minutes later, he rang the doorbell again. This time I went down to speak with him. He said they did have my bag and that he'd take me to pick it up at the office in the park.
So I got my bag back and trust me folks, in New York that is nothing short of a miracle.
Apparently it was left hooked to a fence sans IPOD, phone, cash...etc.
I was just glad to be reunited with the stuff I cared about most.
Let's face it. That cell phone was a dead end relationship from the start.
It was Sunday and I was going to the gym. My bike is not in the city so I used a spare that didn't have any baskets in the back like my trusty cheap old girly red bike does.
So I took a bungy cord and wrapped it around my gym bag and onto the bike rat trap. I optimistically left the building and about three minutes and ten blocks away from my house, I realized my bag had fallen off my bike.
My heart stopped as I frantically rode back home retracing my steps. It's a miracle I didn't get killed riding into oncoming traffic as I barely took my eyes off the ground. Alas, the bungy cord was in front of my building which meant that the bag fell off the minute I left.
Brian and Ben were playing catch in Tompkins Square Park. They keyed me into the apartment and the canceling of debit and credit cards began. I was more terrified at the prospect that I also lost my keys together with all my ID - extending a generous invitation to be robbed at a later date.
I didn't care as much about the IPOD, the cell phone, the two monthly metrocards, and the cash.
I just wanted my keys, my ID and my loyal and good hearted red wallet. It was a purchase I made at a street fair at Astor Place.....after I got robbed in the Columbia University area after my second day at work three years ago.....also in October.
It's funny what really matters to you.
Well, I sat on my bed, drenched in sweat and despair and burst into tears....and I do mean burst. I cried like a school girl. Ben looked frightened at first, then came over and wrapped his arms around me. In his nine years, he'd never seen me fall apart before. I apologized for freaking him out and explained why I was freaking out.
"Mom. It might be a good idea not to put everything important into your wallet."
Sage advice.
I gained my composure ,went outside and started checking all the garbage cans in Tompkins Square Park, figuring that anyone who took my bag wouldn't be too keen on marching around town with "Barnard - Women in Leadership Conference" emblazoned on their knapsack.
One hour later someone rang our bell and announced "I've got an ID for you". Some guy from the park staff across the street handed my husband my ID and basically took off, insisting that they didn't find anything else. Thirty minutes later, he rang the doorbell again. This time I went down to speak with him. He said they did have my bag and that he'd take me to pick it up at the office in the park.
So I got my bag back and trust me folks, in New York that is nothing short of a miracle.
Apparently it was left hooked to a fence sans IPOD, phone, cash...etc.
I was just glad to be reunited with the stuff I cared about most.
Let's face it. That cell phone was a dead end relationship from the start.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Net Flix
I LOVE Net Flix.
Some stuff I've rented and loved
Waiting for Guffman (Seen it before but still love it)
Garden State
Blades of Glory (Will Farrell and my husband are soulmates)
And after much encouragement from fellow bloggers, I will rent St. Elmo's Fire if only to pay tribute to Demi Moore's outfits and hairstyles.
Some stuff I've rented and loved
Waiting for Guffman (Seen it before but still love it)
Garden State
Blades of Glory (Will Farrell and my husband are soulmates)
And after much encouragement from fellow bloggers, I will rent St. Elmo's Fire if only to pay tribute to Demi Moore's outfits and hairstyles.
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