A Small Victory

picture imperfect

It's that time of year. Gather the kiddies around and force them into ridiculous poses for holiday card pictures. You start off all eager and excited, and an hour later you want to put their pictures on milk cartons instead of cards.

After three rolls of film, we found only three pictures that were suitable (meaning pictures that didn't include DJ sticking out his tongue or Natalie giving DJ the finger).

It's either going to be a nice holiday collage using the two individual pictures, or some sappy sentimental card with the combined picture. Ladies and gentlemen (and I mean that in the nicest sense), you are the judge and jury for this year's All-Encompasing Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanzaa/Feast of the Cowardly Lion Day card. Single shots or combined? You make the call.

Posted by at 07:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

beware zealots with envelopes

This guy thinks abortion is so morally wrong that he referred to himself as an "anti-abortion warrior" and sent letters to abortion clinics claiming they were laced with anthrax.

So let me get this straight: abortion is morally wrong, but bank robbery, carjacking, illegal firearms possesion, attempted firebombing, gambling and drinking are all a-ok? As long as its done in the name of God, right?

Posted by at 12:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

I think it's time to do something different with my weblog links. The thing is, there are just too many good weblogs out there. I added a whole slew of them to the sidebar today, and I think I am going to start categorizing or alphabetizing them or putting them on a different page all together. Which brings me to the news that I am ready for a redesign. It will be coming soon, via the talented D, who has promised me something dark and Dave Mckean inspired.

And I suppose I should say something about George Harrison. I was never a big Beatles fan, but I did like him the best. So long, George.

Posted by at 08:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

It's friday, isn't it?

First, the dream.

There was a circular piece of metal suspended from the ceiling, with spokes sticking out, almost like a ceiling fan. We were hung from this, through hooks in the backs of our coats or shirts. Our hands were tied around our backs and there were six of us to each metal ring, hanging there like sides of beef in a butcher shop. One of the men came over, his face covered with towels. He said he was a god. I began crying that I would never see my children again, that they would never know what happened to me. I had only gone out to get some coffee when I was taken by my captors. I was hysterical, snot running down my nose, crying in big, gasping sobs. I begged for my life. Another man dressed in robes came from out of nowhere and started cutting our ropes. We dropped down into a canyon that had steep steps carved into the side. We began the walk up and soon I started running, faster than I had ever run before. I was breathless and my side hurt but I kept going until I was in a dark alleyway. When I came out of the alley, it was daylight, and there was a man on my front lawn (which was now a cabbage garden) running after a mechanical ball while two secret service men, sunglasses and all, hopped out of the back of a truck and chased the man down. They held him on the ground while he screamed out to me in Italian.

The whole time, Men at Work's Down Under was playing in the background.

And now, as part of the Blogger Insider project, my answers to the questions that Rich asked of me. His answers to my questions are available at his site.

1. do you remember your dreams?

I remember them in vivid detail. My dreams are wild, weird stories with subplots and recurring characters. I have never had a night where I didn't dream and I have never not remembered dreaming. As a matter of fact, I could probably tell you about dreams I had back in grade school.

2. where do you live & why do you live there?

I live in East Meadow, New York, in the suburbs of Long Island. I have lived in this town my whole life. I started out in my grandmother's downstairs apartment when I was an infant. Then my parents bough the house across the street and I lived there until I was 27, when I got married and we moved to an apartment on the other side of East Meadow. After the birth of my first child, I came full circle by moving into the downstairs apartment in my grandmother's house, where I started out. My boyfriend and I are now looking at a house...in East Meadow. Why do I live here? My whole family is in this town or a close proximity. My parents, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins. My ex-husband and his family also live in this town, making it convenient for the kids. I am a short train ride away from New York City and a ten minute drive in any direction from anythign I could possibly need or want. The weather is ever changing, which I like, with colorful falls and not so cold winters. It's a nice place; not Leave it To Beaver nice, but nice enough.

3. how many different colors has your hair ever been?

My natural hair color is black. I have been a redhead, a brunette and then something between those two. I dye my hair every month now, because I have a lot of grey, but I never dye it permanently because I am too fickle. This month is black with auburn highlights.

4. why do you Blog?

I blog because I think. Because I think way too much and mull things over in my head too much and no one wants to sit around all day and listen to all the crazy ideas in my head. It's partly the need to get all that out and partly because for as long as I have known how to spell words, I have been writing. So now I can write and vent and distribute my crazed notions at the same time. I blog for me, I blog because I need to, I blog because I am addicted to it, and yes, I can admit that there are some days I blog for the recognition.

5. what is the one thing in life you regret either having done or not yet done?

While I don't regret having married the spawn of satan, per se, I do regret the way I let him treat me during our marriage.

6. if the story of your life had a soundtrack, what would be your theme song?

I am a passive/aggressive sort of person, so there would have to be two songs:

Stabbing Westward, Everything I Touch I Break and Faith No More, A Small Victory

7. if you were an interior decorator, what would your style be?

Practical yet fun.

8. if you were allowed to have one superpower, what would it be & why?

I want to fly. I've had dreams where I've been able to fly and I would love to be able to experience that on a daily basis.

9. what is your worst vice?

Caffeine. It's probably my only vice. Unless procrastination is a vice.

10. what scares you the most (ie...bugs, snakes, clowns, etc...)?

It seems you are talking strictly physical fears here, not emotional. Two of my biggest fears are large bodies of open water and heights. Put them together and you have one intense fear of bridges. I am also not afraid to admit that, at 39, I am still afraid of the dark and sleep with a hallway light or the tv on.

I wish I wasn't sick and medicated when I answered those questions. I might have answered differently. Or at least have been more interesting.

Posted by at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

what constitution? where?

Welcome to the new America. Our president, in his "this is my yard so we play by my rules" stance, has decided that not only are military tribunals a-ok, but he is going to get to decide who gets the spanish inquisition and who doesn't. Wasn't there a book or movie where the anti-christ behaved like this and the end of the world followed soon after? Bush defends his actions with his "we are at war" quote. I didn't know being at war makes the constitution obsolete. He then has the gall to say "we must not let foreign enemies use the forms of liberty to destroy liberty itself." So it's ok to let our government, which has become our own worst enemy, destroy our liberties. Because honestly, I can only see the give them an inch they take a mile thing going on here. Who is to say they will stop at military tribunals in a time of war? Or with immigrants? Or with suspected terrorists? Who in some dark part of their mind isn't thinking...jesus fuck, did I say something really bad against the government on my website? Now that the FBI is probably reading our email, and Bush probably thinks if you go against his views then you are a supporter of terrorists, can we still say "hey it's a free country" anytime someone tells us not to do something? What the fuck is going on here, people? Or have I just overmedicated myself again?

Posted by at 05:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

like licking a stamp..

They switched my medication yesterday to Levaquin, which is the strongest thing they could give me. So I take it today and I am feeling a bit...crazed. I started feeling dizzy and out of it, like I had taken a drug I was rather familiar with in high school. I start to think it's just me, so I look up the side effects.

LEVAQUIN, may also cause central nervous system stimulation which may lead to tremors, restlessness, anxiety, lightheadedness, confusion, hallucinations, paranoia, depression, nightmares, insomnia, and, rarely, suicidal thoughts or acts.

So basically, just another day.

Posted by at 09:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

must...get...off...couch

I'm working from home today, as my sister was so kind to bring files home for me. It's all good, I suppose, so my desk isn't a mountain of work that needed to be done yesterday when I get back to work Monday. This also affords me something I can never do at work - chat and blog while I type away. It's sort of strange, though. In one window, there is the decision I am typing relegating some drunk driver/cocaine dealer to a long stretch of prison issue jumpsuits, and in the other window, there is my AIM chat in which I am extoling the virtues of being high on drug store medication.

I've been spending a lot of my sick time at home flipping through the myriad of cable channels I now have. So, my good/bad list about digital cable and daytime tv:

good: animated movies with monkeys looking for love

bad: Lorenzo Lamas movies

good: Post apocalyptic movies

bad: Post apocalyptic movies

good: Eddie Izzard

bad: Michael Madsen movies

worse: Michael Madsen and Eric Roberts in the same movie

Of course, there is also the parade of endless cartoons, strangely addicting infomercials, public access fiascos and creepy children's programming when the movie selection gets too boring. Which reminds me, I think Darkwing Duck is going on now.

Posted by at 09:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

b.c. (before coffee)

I'm getting tired of staying home. I can't go back to work until Monday (I do have pneumonia, by the way) and I am going stir crazy. I've been sitting outside a lot, because it's been like spring here in New York. While the rest of the country seems to be suffering from raging snow storms, we're here, putting up Chrismtas lights in shorts and t-shirts. Odd.

You know, its pretty useless to blog before I've had at least two cups of coffee. To be continued....

Posted by at 05:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

so many colors...

No matter what Shel says, that hat was PINK. Pink, I tell you.

Posted by at 08:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

what i left behind

In regards to this morning's post: This came about not because a) I was high, b) I was over-medicated or c) I was contemplating running away from home, as some of you nice people thought. It came about because last night as I was going through my closet, I came across several boxes filled with things I have written, accumulated since grade school. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, years and years of it just sitting in boxes.

Writing is the one thing people thought I was good at. It was about the only thing I was every praised for in school, the one talent my friends envied and grownups talked about. It was all I had. There isn't a person I knew in high school who is not surprised that I didn't go into a writing-related profession. So all those boxes represented everything I let slip by me. All my chances and invitations and acknowledgements are now nothing more than pieces of old, crumbled paper. And why? Why did I let it all go? Fear, I suppose. Fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of realizing that the one thing I could do well wouldn't really get me by in life.

I don't know if it's too late to do something with those years of handwritten angst and fear stuffed into so many cardboard coffins. 20 years later, and I am still that little girl with no self-confidence who is afraid to try. I still procrastinate until it becomes too late and then I don't have to stare at a rejection letter or listen to someone say why I'm just not good enough.

And that's why I'm restless. That's where it's coming from. I did forget something. I forgot to become what I set out to be. I forgot to try. I forgot about the only thing I was ever any good at.

I am 39. Is it too late to go back and try again?

Posted by at 06:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (23)

first day with new camera

I finally got my scanner to work, and you are now being subjected to the products of my first day with new camera. These pics are mostly experiments in lighting, close ups, etc., as it has been a long time since I've owned a manual focus camera. I've taken 5 rolls since these, and you will be forced to view all my attempts to be artsy.

droplets

last leaf

winter

blue

stumps

wave

spiral

angels

I promise the pictures will get better as I go along. But I am so enjoying taking them, and isn't that what matters? No? Damn.

Posted by at 05:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

cabin fever

Sometimes you feel as if you are talking to a wall. You want to run around the world screaming Is anyone listening to me? You wonder why you are doing what you are doing, and if you shouldn't be doing something else. There's no direction, no definitive signpost telling you how many miles to your next destination. Just dirt roads and forks and beaten paths, and you wish like hell you had a map or at least a navigator with you.

I'm feeling restless. I get this way sometimes, especially this time of year. The days are getting shorter and shorter. Darkness comes at an unreasonable hour and the light is robbed from us a little more every day. It makes the day feel cramped and hurried and the nights seem to drag on endlessly. The sun takes its time getting settled into the sky in the morning, and it just feels dark, all the time.

You know what happens in the dark? In the twilight hours, or the dead of night or that eerie quiet of 5am when it's just you and the stars? You think. You think way too much, as if there is some spirit in the darkness that comes to you and turns your thought process around so you are not thinking about the day's plans or what you are going to wear to work. No, you are thinking about life. And death. And challenges or lack of them. You are thinking about things that go bump in the night and monsters under your bed and vampires peering at you through your window. You think about all those skeletons rattling around in your closet, wondering when they are going to topple out and spill onto the floor for everyone to see. You think about that blank slate called the future, and honestly, what's scarier than nothing? Than not knowing? What is scarier than having so much light and dark and days and nights stretched out before you and never knowing what is going to fill them, or when they are going to come to an abrupt end?

You lay there and think about your dreams and nightmares and wonder which of them will come true. You wonder how much difference you've made, if any. You think about loss and life, and those fleeting moments of happiness when you were 8 and blowing out birthday candles, way before you began to fear those birthdays. When life didn't revolve around war and taxes and the high cost of living, when your biggest worry was playing dodge ball against the class bully. If you only knew. If you only knew then what you know now.

Oh, no I wouldn't want to be a child again, no matter how innocent and carefree that time is. Because what do our children have to look forward to? What kind of world are they growing up in? In time, their monsters and nightmares will take on different, more grownup shapes. But there will be other ghouls and ogres in their closets, ones we never had to deal with. I feel bad about that. I feel responsible in some way. And maybe that is part of what keeps me up at night.

Yes, I am feeling very restless. Like I'm missing something, but don't know where to start looking for it or what it even is. It's sort of like sitting somewhere far from home and wondering if you've left the iron on. I forgot to do something. But what?

I certainly am not regretting where I am now. I am not unhappy with the path I've chosen. I just don't know if I should veer off this path for a while, maybe backtrack a bit and see if I can't find out what I've forgotten to do.

I'm just restless, that's all.

Posted by at 05:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

liquid dreams

I've got liquid! I went to the pharmacist today and explained to him, rather red-faced, about my swallowing predicament. He prescribed for me something called Brometame DX, which has made me feel drowsy and relieved some of the sinus pressure in my head. I still feel like crap on a stick, and I made an appointment to have the x-rays tomorrow because this not being able to breathe thing is wearing a little thin.

So I spent most of the day on the couch, alternating between reading, watching tv, and having bizarre dreams. Good thing about tv today: Six String Samurai. Bad thing: Some movie where Shannon Tweed saves the world from terrorists. Or maybe that was the bizarre dream.

Posted by at 04:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I swallow, I swallow....

I am the most pathetic person on the face of the earth. Even Bill's butter trick did not help me swallow those pills. I feel so lame. So disheartened. So...in need of medication. I took some Robitussin instead, and I'll call my doctor tomorrow and sheepishly ask him if he can provide something in a liquid form.

Also adding to my frustration tonight is the fact that AIM isn't working. I don't know if it's me or AIM in particular, but my buddy lists won't load and I can't have my usual nightly conversations about nothing and everything.

To top it all off, I have absolutely nothing to blog about, or if I do, I cannot muster the brain energy it would take to make it entertaining.

Welcome to my misery. Anyone want to keep me company?

Posted by at 08:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

I swear this is the last post about being sick

I discovered today there is not one doctor on Long Island that is taking new patients. I finally relented and called the old quack. Which turned out ok, because I saw his younger, smarter partner who, it turns out, I went to high school with. He was quick, efficient and competent and didn't yell at me for not coming to the doctor since 98.

Final verdict: sinus infection and asthmatic bronchitis. He thinks I may also have pneumonia but the ridiculous regulations of my insurance provider (Aetna U.S. Health Care) provide that I can only get x-rays on a re-visit. They want you to try out some antibiotics first, and if you don't feel good in a couple of days, then they will pay for x-rays. Go figure.

So, the good Dr. gave me a nebulizer treatment in the office and prescribed some potent antibiotic that tastes like chalk (remember, I can't swallow pills). However, the other stuff he prescribed, some huge blue pills and white pill to be taken alternately, are going to be a problem getting down. He also recommended I not be doing anything that requires staying awake when I take the white pills, and suggested that I not go to work the rest of the week. The hell with that. There is no way I can stay home all week. I'll take off tomorrow and see what happens.

Meanwhile, I will try to get back on here tonight and post something interesting and worthwhile, instead of this "Boo hoo I'm sick" drivel. As a matter of fact, I apologize for the whole last week of posting which, in retrospect, has been simply awful. I owe you.

Posted by at 03:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

People I want to kill, volume 2; Scott Stapp

Ok, one more thing before I go. I have been meaning to talk about this since Thanksgiving.

Did anyone see the halftime special featuring Creed? Can someone please explain to me what the hell that was supposed to be? Ninjas? People dressed in all white wearing satellite dishes around their necks? Of course there was the requisite high school choir and grade school kids singing off key, but I did not get what that interpretive dancing was all about. And is it me or did Scott Stapp look constipated? Honestly, I can't stand that smug little fucker. Every time I look at him I want to punch him straight in the mouth and wipe that self-important look from his face. So, if anyone can interpret for me what exactly the underlying meaning in that halftime show was, I will be indebted to you. It's boggling my mind.

There, I knew I had some kind of Monday morning rant in me.

Posted by at 05:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

the misery of monday

It occurred to me at about 3am, as I lay in bed with a raging fever and hacking cough, that perhaps a visit to a doctor is in order. I've had this thing for almost a week now, and it shows no signs of letting up. During the day, I don't give it much thought. It's a cold, right? It will go away on its own. But at night, when all your monsters are bigger and darker, things seem different. I lay in bed and think worst case scenarios. Double pneumonia, inhilation anthrax, or that illness that Jim Henson died from.

The thing is, I am not a doctor-friendly person. As a matter of fact, I don't even have a doctor. I ditched mine about 5 years ago when he diagnosed me with and treated me for Lyme Disease, which it turns out I did not have. After several days of intensive treatment, including anabolic steroids, my kids' pediatrician realized that I had an adult version of Fifth Disease, gave me some antibiotics, and told me my doctor was a quack. I have not been to a doctor since.

I have insurance, that's not the problem. I just hate doctors. So I sit here this morning, sicker than I've been since high school, and I am debating whether to ride it out another day or just go to one of those Doctor's Office Centers that are on just about every corner here. And I have to go to work today. There is way too much piled on my desk as it is.

I know, I know, how exciting this is for you to read this on a Monday morning, when you are looking for my usual rants at the world. When you have come here looking for me to say that the power our government has is at a frightening level, that we are creating our own future nightmares, that our enemies always lie within, and hmmm, interesting, two people who lived within blocks of me died from West Nile Virus last week. Oh, and we watched Episode 1 on Fox last night, mainly to pick it apart, and I've come to the conclusion that George Lucas must die.

Oh, the one good thing about this cold? Chris gets his Christmas present a bit early. I had no choice but to stop smoking.

Enjoy your Monday in the only way you can; act oblivious.

Posted by at 04:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

emometaladdict

Lack of brain function today means I do nothing but play games and take online tests.

41% 68% 53%

Posted by at 03:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

alternative christmas, redux

Thanks to a slew of emails and the glory of audiogalaxy, I have spent the morning adding to my alternative christmas songs list. I've added the following, and now the hard job is deciding which ones will go on the cd.

• Bad Religion - Silent Night
• Wesley Willis - Merry Christmas

• Bad Religion - Fuck Christmas
• Spinal Tap - Christmas With the Devil

• Bad Religion - Joy to the World
• South Park - Merry Fucking Christmas

• Ben Folds - Lonely Christmas Eve
• Type O Negative - Red Water (Christmas Morning)

• Blink 182 - I Won't Be Home For Christmas
• Tom Waits - Christmas Card From a Hooker

• Eels - Christmas is Going to the Dogs
• They Might Be Giants - Christmas Cards

• Vandals - Christmastime for my Penis
• Fountains of Wayne - I Want an Alien for

  Christmas

• Insane Clown Posse - Red Christmas
• Pogues - Christmas in the Drunk Tank

• Monty Python - Christmas in Heaven
• Flaming Lips - Christmas at the Zoo

• Pennywise - Christmas in Hell
• Smashing Pumpkins - Christmas Time
• REM - Christmas Griping

If anyone would like a copy of one of these just email me, tis the season for sharing.

Posted by at 09:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (24)

Madonna: Mother and Naturalist of the year

"When you're shooting you are standing in the forest for really long periods of time, so you end up looking at the leaves and the sky and the trees. You have a lot of time to meditate." – Madonna (on how shooting pheasants gives her an "appreciation of nature." [via crowdsurfer]

This follows on the heels of a story in which it is revealed that Madonna has never changed one of her kids' diapers. [via jillmatrix]

I really have nothing to add to those two stories. They speak for themselves.

Posted by at 07:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

get me off of this crazy couch....

Yes, I am still sick. I get sick quite often, just little colds here and there, which is a hazard of having school-age children. They seem to bring home every germ known and unknown to man. This time the cold just won't let go, and has settled in both my head and chest. I've taken every over-the-counter medication in every color, for every symptom. Still, I linger somewhere between death and misery.

Ok, it's not that bad. I sounded like a guy for a minute there. Yea, you know what I'm talking about. The female species has the ability to be deathbed sick and still manage to go to work, clean the house and cook dinner. The male gets sick, and I mean one little sniffle, and his whole world has come tumbling down. He can't move off the couch, let alone get his own orange juice. He moans all day long, so much so that you almost call a priest in for last rights. And this is just with the common cold. When he has something like the flu, you need to call in an exorcist. Come on, fess up. You know it's true.

So while I did spend most of yesterday in and out of sleep on the couch, I still managed to get the laundry done and change the frog tanks during my breaks from NyQuil incduced unconciousness. But when I was sleeping, I had bizarre dreams. Of course, falling asleep while The Learning Channel is showing something on Easter Island and lost civilizations will cause the announcer's voice to seep into your brain and into your dream-state, where you will dream about feathered serpents and intricately designed wooden ships and some bizarre sort of virgin sacrifice ritual.

Anyhow, I am vowing to get outdoors today and do some experimenting with my new camera. Hopefully I will get some pictures developed and scanned today.

Posted by at 06:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

alternative christmas, volume 2

I started making my list of songs for possible inclusion in this year's alternative Christmas songs cd. This is what I've come up with so far. I've included alternate versions of Christmas classics as well as offbeat seasonal songs. Feel free to add your own suggestions, and I'll post when I finalize the cd. Copies will be made available for anyone who wants one.

• Frosty The Snowman - Cocteau Twins

• Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight) - The Ramones

• Santa Claus - Throwing Muses

• One Christmas Catalogue - Captain Sensible

• Shouldn't Have Given Him A Gun For Christmas - Wall Of Voodoo

• Santa's Beard - They Might Be Giants

• Year Without A Santa Claus: Heat Miser

• Fuck Christmas - Fear

• There Ain't No Sanity Claus - The Damned

• Homo Christmas - Pansy Division

• Here Comes Santa's Pussy - The Frogs

• White Christmas - Stiff Little Fingers

• King Diamond- No Presents For Christmas

• Christmas in Hollis - Run-D.M.C.

• Dead By X-mas - Hanoi Rocks

• Santa's Beard - They Might Be Giants

• My First Xmas As A Woman - Vandals

• Everclear - Hating You For Christmas

• Snoop Doggy Dogg - Santa Claus Goes Straight To The Ghetto

• Deftones/Far/Willhaven, et al - Do They Know It's Christmas

• Zebrahead - I Hate Christmas

That's what I have so far. Too much medication this weekend has rendered my brain useless. I'm relying on you to come up with more.

note: please do not read anything into the inclusion of Hanoi Rocks

Posted by at 06:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (18)

life's hard questions, and letting other people answer them for you

DJ is almost 9 years old. He's at that age where he is doubting the existence of a fat jolly guy dropping gifts down your chimney. So he's been baiting me, trying to get me to say there is no Santa Claus. I keep giving him that time-honored standard of "If you believe in Santa, then he exists," but he's not buying it. We had a little talk about it yesterday and these were some of the questions he came up with:

If the elves make all the toys why do they say, like, Nintendo on them instead of santa's workshop?

Do they elves get paid? Do they get lunch breaks? Did they have to go to school to learn how to make all this stuff?

How come when something is broken or the wrong size you return it to the store and don't send it back to the North Pole?

How come Billy Rolan got a computer for Christmas last year when he's mean and bad all the time?

If Santa and his elves are so smart and magic and stuff, then how come they don't make a video game that's like the X-Box and GameCube and PS2 all together? Wouldn't that save them the trouble of making all the different games and stuff?

And santa has to be magic if he can make reindeer fly, so why don't we ask him for things like that for Christmas? Like can't he tell us how to fly or make our pets fly or something?

Never let it be said that video games have dulled my boy's imagination.

So, dear readers, what do I do? Do I a) assume that he already knows the truth and just wants me to come out and say it, b) convince him that there really is a santa and let the lie live on for another year or c) just get it overwith and tell him that I'm the one who buys the gifts and therefore I deserve all the credit for whatever he gets? (and hence, the blame for what he doesn't get).

Play "Be DJ's Parent for a Day" and tell me what you would do or come up with feasible answers to any of his questions.

Posted by at 08:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (29)

displays of tackiness

I think everyone in my neighborhood yesterday decided to forego shopping in favor of hanging Christmas lights. It was a beautiful day, near spring-like weather, and the ladders were out in full force yesterday as I walked down the block. I like Christmas decorations. Well, some of them. I like lights. Lights make a house look pretty. What I don't like is when people take Christmas as an opportunity to turn their yard into a miniature version of "It's a Small World."

Most of my neighbors have complied with my unspoken wishes that they stick to low-key decorations. So far I see only lights, with an occasional smattering of "Santa stop here" signs, which is ok if you've got little kids in the house. In my role as Christmas Decoration Police, I do let some things slide. But some things do not get tolerated. Just in case you are thinking about decorating this week and want some guidlines, I offer you my list of

Ways to Get Into the Tacky Decorations Hall of Fame:
• Life sized lighted nativity sets; nativity sets represented by cartoon characters

• Lighted message boards the size of Shea Stadium's Diamondvision

• Using more electricity than Disney World

• Decorations that play looped music all night long

• Huge plastic santas that talk when you get within five feet of them

• Forcing your children into an outdoors, nightly re-enactment of The Night Before Christmas

• Charging people to see your decorations

• Incorporating other holidays into your Christmas theme

• Animatronic Nutcracker Suite

• Advertising your decorations in the local paper

• Having an appearance by Santa is ok; an appearance by a drunk Santa is not

• Disguising the junk in your yard as decorations

• Stand up cut-outs of cartoon/tv personalities that have nothing to do with Christmas

Some of these things may be fine if you live out in the woods somewhere, but when you live in a town with 40 houses to a block, you may want to have a little consideration. Don't use up all the power source in the neighborhood. Don't blind your neighbors with your lights. Don't make your decorations so ghastly that people come from miles around to see them and your little side street becomes a nightly traffic jam. I have a wire cutter. I will not hesitate to use it.

Posted by at 05:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (22)

Santa and Sudafed

So I jumped on the bandwagon and joined Secret Santa. It's a pretty nifty idea. Basically, you sign up, link to your Amazon Wish List, and wait for them to tell you the person you have to buy for. I'm trying to get in the spirit of the season here. You know, the season of Giftmas.

If this cold doesn't go away, I am going to put a plastic bag over my head and wait out death. It has to be better. I've been through every over the counter med, and I'm eating my way through a half gallon of Starbucks Java Chip ice cream, because umm...feed a cold, right?

Posted by at 05:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Stalker, fan...same difference

That Phineas sure is one popular fella. He even has a fan site dedicated to him, but it looks like the work of someone who missed his daily medication. That's not a fan, Phineas, that's a deranged stalker.

I thought I hit rock bottom when I spent an hour playing dress-up Jesus, but dress-up Phineas takes me down even further. It says to put clothes on his body, but all there is a skeleton, so when you put the grunge outfit on him, his skeletal arms stick out. I may have nightmares.

Posted by at 05:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Whining will get you everywhere

The only thing better than a boyfriend who knows exactly what you want for Christmas is a boyfriend who gives you that Christmas present early because he knows how badly you want it.

So after my episode of crying and whining yesterday that my point-and-shoot camera just wasn't working right and how I miss having autofocus and how all I want is a zoom and macro lens, I woke up to find a box, neatly wrapped, on the table this morning. And inside that box was my Christmas present, which was this:

The point is not whether he gave it to me early to shut me up or because he genuinely felt sorry for me and my broken camera, the point is that he got me the exact thing I wanted without my ever really articulating that it was exactly what I wanted. Follow? Good.

Expect lots and lots of pictures in the near future. I am going out to play with my new toy.

Posted by at 12:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Just another post holiday rant

Happy Black Friday. I am calling this Stay Home and Read Day a/k/a Malls are Evil Day. This has nothing to do with the silly notion that we should support world peace by buying nothing today. That, I don't get. Read what Led has to say for my further views on this.

So, we will stay home today and read. The kids will read the further adventures of Harry Potter, whichever of the books they are up to now, and I will finally get finished with Choke. In between there will be tv watching, board game playing, eating of leftovers and general family contendedness. Of course, this all goes by the wayside as soon as the cousins knock on the door looking for DJ to play football, or one of Natalie's friends calls. Either way, I am not in any way, shape or form venturing out into the traffic nightmare that is the day after Thanksgiving. When you know that you are not a people person, you avoid situations which may cause you to come into contact with way too many people at once. Avoids further court dates, murder trials, etc.

Thanksgiving wasn't so bad. The moron fiance of my sister had his mother join us for dinner, so he was on his best behavior. No politicking, no preaching, no jokes at the expense of one minority or another. The only break in the pleasantries came when my sister called my father a communist for buying a BMW (i was mistaken the other day, it wasn't a Mercedes, it was a beemer). She went into her Buy America rah rah rah spiel, but stopped when I politely but firmly pointed out to her that her DVD player, television set, stereo and computer were all non-American made items and they were probably the items most used in her home. I also pointed out that her Nike sneakers were definitely not made in the U.S. of A., but that she was at least supporting our president by purchasing items made by companies hell-bent on global domination and the legalization of sweatshops.

Anyhow, it was a mostly pleasant day, capped with a very physical game of Pictionary, in which everyone's drawings started to look like penises after a while. Too much wine, too much food, not enough napping. And oh yes, the Packers won. Barely.

As I have the day off today and the kids don't seem to be interested in me at all for the moment, I will allow myself the luxury of posting as much as I want to today. Weekends were made for blogging.

Posted by at 06:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

love is in the air

It was exactly 3 Thanksgiving evenings ago when I met Justin, on AOL of all places (insert jokes or nasty comments here). It was an accident that he sent me an instant message, thinking I was someone else, but we ended up talking well into the early morning hours, and the rest is all sordid history.

In other lovey dovey affairs, Charles popped the question to the girl of his dreams, Denise, last night. She said yes.

Congratulations!

And that is it for the rest of the day. It's time to do the family/eating/football/belching thing. I'm sure I will have plenty to say tonight, regarding spending the day with my sister's born-again-catholic, righteous, phony, belligerent, pious, holier than thou, ultra right wing conservative, racist, homophobic, anti semite fiance. Just another fun filled family dinner!

Posted by at 11:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

The real thanks

I let my family know each day that I am thankful for them. I make it a point to always be appreciative of what I have, and what is given me. I would like to do the same here, and thank all the people I have met through the weblogging community. I would really have liked to list each one by one and say something about them, but I am time constrained here, being a holiday and all. So I give you a bunch of names, and while they may seem like just names and websites to you, they are so much more than that to me. Each one has, in some way, made a difference in my life. They may have helped me learn how to get this site together, or help me put it together. They may have comforted me, listened to me and made me feel special. They may have made me laugh when I needed it most or just spent the night chatting away with me when I felt like talking. Some of them are people I talk to every day, people who know much more about me than I ever intended to tell about myself. They are people whose own weblogs bring me joy and pleasure. They are people who have my eternal gratitude and thanks, and I really don't want to single anyone out, but there are some who have been lifelines for me when the going got tough and I hope I have done the same for them. They know who they are.

So, thank you:

Ok, I could really go on for another five minutes here, but I have stuff in the oven and on the stove and please, please forgive me if I have forgotten anyone, it wasn't intentional and I probably should not have done something like this when I was in a rush. But you all rock my world, you know?

Posted by at 08:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (19)

Reasons to be thankful, part 3

I suppose I could go with the maudlin, sappy Thanksgiving post thing, and state here all of the things I am thankful for. I could pour out my heart and spend a few moments telling you how thankful I am for my family and friends and for a good job and a warm home and a decent life in general. But, nah. So instead, I bring you:

The Little Things I am Thankful for that Normally go Unrecognized
• Krispy Kreme donuts

• video games

• comic books

• greymatter

• the local library

• faith no more

• internet piracy

• the mute button

• my middle finger

• The Onion

• Gary Oldman

• digital cable

• broadband access

• candles that smell like a tropical island

• Sponge Bob Square Pants, Invader Zim and Adult Swim

• Simpsons re runs

• John Stewart

• NyQuil

• freedom of speech

• 3 day weekends

• the Green Bay Packers

• hockey

• the Bronx Zoo

• rewritable Cds

• flannel pajamas

• sex

• free porn

• sweet potato chips

• cold pizza

• bottled water

• 80's new wave

• zip drives

• my snot green Vans

• coffee. coffee. coffee.

• raspberry zinger herbal tea (with honey and lemon)

• Tim Burton movies

I like lists. Lists are fun. So in between making 3 lbs of rigatoni a la vodka and forcing the kids to watch the Thanksgiving Day parade (because a tradition is a tradition, whether it sucks or not), I'm going to compile a list of weblogging thanks, some of which are seriously overdue.

Remember kids, don't eat breakfast. Save yourself. And repeat after me: The Packers will NOT lose to an 0-9 team today. They will NOT lose.....

Posted by at 05:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

and now a word from our sponsor

Tonight's lack of blogging has been made possible by

For that aching, coughing, I-want-to-go-into-a-coma type night.

Posted by at 06:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I got your christmas cheer right here....

It's Wednesday, it's Friday, it's a pre-holiday, and it's D-Day. While this day is not noted on the calendar as any kind of special day, trust me. It is. Today marks the end of the year in a lot of ways. Because from this day forward, the rest of the year slips into the dark abyss of the holidays. Once you are finished stuffing yourself silly and watching football tomorrow, once the dishes are done and you lay back on that couch and watch your waist expand and wonder what the hell you are going to do with all the leftovers, that's it. As soon as you let that half-contented, half-exhausted sigh out at the end of Thanksgiving, you open the door to the gates of hell.

I don't care if you don't celebrate Christmas. It's something that takes over, whether you believe in Santa or Jesus or not. The air is different, the mood shifts, the stench of commercialism singes your nostrils. While other people see holiday cheer, I see the black plague. I see money flying out of my wallet as if it has grown wings. I see my kids staring at the television, mesmerized by commercials for things they must have. I see people fighting in the aisles over action figures and video games. Everyone is in a rush, everyone needs that parking space even though you were turning into it first, everyone needs to go through that red light or stop sign because they have to get to the sale at Wal-Mart and get that bicycle at 5 dollars off before you do. I see the anti-christ herself, Martha Stewart, making me feel like my presents aren't wrapped prettily enough and my cookies are laughable and why haven't I made a gingerbread house decorated with homemade candy yet? I hear my neighbor screaming at his wife while she harangues him about hanging up the Christmas lights, even though he just took down last year's decorations in August. I see incredibly rude salespeople and even ruder customers and my UPS guy looks like he needs heroin by the middle of December. Oh yea, it's in the air and it all starts Friday.

I do not go out on Black Friday. I do not leave my house. I don't go to work, I don't even go to the store for a loaf of bread. I send my kids out to play in the yard if they want, they can even have friends over. But I refuse to be a part of the madness that takes over the parkways and highways on the day after Thanksgiving. I refuse to be part of the evil that turns every main street into a parking lot. I refuse to get to Toys-R-Us at 6am to wait on line for their Christmas sale. I refuse to navigate the hellhouse that is the mall on that day. Why? Why would anyone in their right mind even bother going to a mall on the busiest shopping day of the year? Why would you subject yourself to that? Are you some kind of sadist?

I have started compiling my annual list of anti-Christmas songs. If you know of one, please let me know. It makes for great background music while I'm shopping on line, laughing maniacally at those of you who still brave the angry, bitter mobs of the mall minions. Oh yes, I will still decorate, I will still celebrate, I will still sing a Christmas song or two. But hidden somewhere on my tree is an ornament that is really a Martha Stewart voodoo doll. And Santa, for me, comes in a big brown truck once or twice a week and leaves packages on the door step.

The countdown to Christmas starts now. Let's see how many days it takes before I have a complete Christmas breakdown. Stay tuned.

Posted by at 04:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (19)

Blogging Under the Influence

I am not a good medicine person. First of all, I can't swallow pills, so everything either has to be in liquid form or something I can chew. I've grown pretty accustomed to the taste of Excedrin migraine ground between my teeth. I also have this problem with reacting to over the counter medicines. We won't even get into the time I took my son's Ventolin and almost had a heart attack. I have to be careful with the basic stuff: I can do some forms of Triaminic, but I cannot take any form of Robotussin. I have major anxiety attacks about 3 minutes after I take it.

So here I am, feeling miserable and sickly. I need something. We have children's Triaminic, grape flavor. Ok, I think. I can do that. I read the directions and it says 2 tablespoons for kids up to 12 years old. So I take 4. Or 5. Something like that. Then I think, well the Triaminic may make my throat feel better, but it will probably get me wired and I won't be able to sleep. So I'll take some NyQuil. I swig it straight from the bottle.

So here I am, reeling from a cocktail of Triaminic and NyQuil, trying to keep my eyes open and my hands still. And trying to make a point to this blog.

I shall go now and sleep the sleep of the drugged. Expect weird dream stories tomorrow.

Posted by at 08:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

sharing the misery

I am one miserable fucker today. Got this chest cold thing going on, lots of coughing and wheezing and general inertia. Nothing like a post nasal drip added to the equation to make you feel like vomiting every five minutes.

All I can muster tonight is another silly online quiz result. But how much does this rule? Huh?

take the autobot personality test

Optimus fucking Prime. Yea, that's me.

More NyQuil, please.

Posted by at 04:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

our country tis of idiocy

A damp, Tuesday morning. My back still hurts, I had bizarre, frightening dreams last night, and work is going to be a bit somber today. I just feel the dreariness seeping into my brain already and its only 5am. Obituary for Judge Hart.

So here's an interesting thought. The U.S. has dropped tons of leaflets on Afghanistan, offering a 25 million dollar reward for the capture of bin Laden. They are hoping that Afghans crawl into the tunnels and caves to look for him. Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld also announced that the bombing campaign is targeting the very same caves and tunnels and closing them up. So effectively, it works like this.

Rumsfeld: "Hey, you Afghans over there! I'll give you 25 million dollars if you go crawl through that cave and bring out bin Laden!"

Afghans: "Hell, yes!" Afghan goes into cave. U.S. bombs cave.

Rumsfeld: "Ha! Ha! Sucker!!"

The minds behind this war scare me more every day.

And of course, what would a scary world leader be without a scary woman behind him? Laura Bush chose this year's White House Christmas theme (Who knew that Christmas needed a theme?) as "Home for the Holidays" and I'm sure that the families of all those who are off bombing and scouring caves and whatnot in Afghanistan really connect with that theme. And note that the official White House Christmas card has a religious sentiment to it. If it's officially from the White House shouldn't it be a holiday card that doesn't contain the word "Lord" in it? Just a thought.

Can you have a midlife crisis at 61? My father came home yesterday with a Mercedes Convertible. In teal. I just raised my eyebrow at him and then he laughed me when I asked if I could take it for a drive. My mother questioned his judgment, and I told her, "hey, at least it's a 3 year old car. It could have been a 20 year old blonde." To which my mother replied, "He made the wrong choice. The car isn't going to go down on him."

So basically, it's Tuesday, I'm going to work, I have a family thing tonight which all adds up to going back to my promise of only 1 or 2 posts during the week. I'm sure I'll find the time to fit one in tonight. Enjoy your day. Smoke more. Eat more chocolate. Drink heavily. Cover your ears when the news comes on. My advice for today.

Posted by at 05:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

Singing for the Choire

Happy Birthday, Choire. Here's the present you asked for:

I have been known to eat an entire box of truffles for dinner. I had a crush on my cousin when I was in grade school. My first sexual experience was with a girl. I didn't have any friends until high school. I know all the words to several Air Supply songs. I once owned and wore a pair of spandex pants. My ancestors were horse thieves in Italy. I have a huge porn collection. I like sex that involves lubrication. I've cheated BMG and Columbia house out of money and I stole $20 out of my mother's purse when I was 12. I used the money to buy slurpees and candy. I had my tubes tied two years ago. I tried to put an evil death curse on my ex husband while we were still married. I let my children listen to cds with parental warning stickers on them. I own the Transformers movie on DVD. One of my bosses had the cops called on him because he was showering naked outside. With his kids. I hate Ewoks. This is feeling too much like confession. Forgive me father for I have sinned, it has been several years since I admitted I own an Oasis cd.

Yea, yea. Happy fucking birthday. Enjoy!

Posted by at 06:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)

George wants his MTV

It's bad enough getting caught lip syncing to Culture Club's "Miss Me Blind," but to get caught on the cam dancing to Cameo's "Word Up" is something one never lives down.

On the subject of bad music, our nation's think tank have once again come up with a winner. In order to give the Arab world a better perception of Americans, they want to have MTV broadcast in Arab countries.

How many things are wrong with? Shall we count the ways?

Is the image of Britney Spears cavorting around half naked with men licking her the image we really want to send? What about Fred Durst whining like a little child in every video? Mariah Carey? Are these the people we want to be the ambassadors of the American image? Is Carson Daily really the best representative of an American male? If they were looking for a reason to hate us, giving them their MTV is all it will take.

And please don't tell me that they are trying to reach Arabic young people through MTV's news and current events programs. That's like offering The Enquirer to people who want The New York Times.

What is going on with our country's government when they have in recent months resorted to Joel Schumacher, the general public and MTV in their efforts to fight terrorism? My sense of disbelief grows along with my trust.

Posted by at 01:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

another good-bye

I just got a phone call I have been dreading for some time. One of the Judges I worked with died last night. He had cancer and had been in out of remission for some time. He fought it well. Everytime he took a leave and we thought he wouldn't be coming back, he surprised by showing up at work, full of his usual good humor. I hate to sound cliche, but he was brave and strong throughout his fight. He was a hell of a nice man, and a good, fair judge, probably my favorite out of all the Judges I have worked with so far.

Judge Hart was 49 years old. He was a surfer, a traveler, a man full of life and vigor and a love for the outdoors. He would stop in my office in the morning and we would talk about news and music. We traded cds often, and last I saw him I had given him a Portishead cd, because he was looking for some music to lose himself in at night. When I think of him, it will be of those moments, when he was laughing and looking healthy, and not of those days when he looked worn and sickly.

I am just one of hundreds of people who will miss him dearly.

Posted by at 08:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

spreading disease since 1962

Continuing with my trend of answering inane on line quizzes that tell me nothing about myself:

The Horrible Affliction Test

Congratulations, you're the bubonic plague! You're infamous. You're usually deadly when left untreated. You're spread by a flea. That's how cool you are.

Take the Affliction Test Today!

fear me.

link swiped from yrth

Posted by at 06:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

questions, this time with answers

Q: Why does this Monday suck more than any other?

A: Because I slipped on a spot on the kitchen floor and hurt my back bad enough to warrant calling in sick.

Q: Why was there a slippery spot on the kitchen floor?

A: Because last night, Justin was attempting to make crabby patty burgers in his attempt to play some odd sort of Sponge Bob Square Pants roleplaying thing with the kids and he dropped the mayo on the floor.

Q: Didn't he clean it up?

A: Apparently, not good enough.

Q: How sorry will he be that he didn't clean it up all the way?

A: I'll let you know after I spend most of the day on the couch, forcing him to obey my every whimsy and command.

Q: Does this mean there will be more than the previously threatened "one post per weekday" today?

A: Why, yes. Yes it does.

Posted by at 06:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

questions for a monday morning

Why am I always so suprised when I wake up and it's Monday? Do I really expect my fantasy of a life full of nothing but weekends to come true? And why does Monday always start out with me waking up way too late? And being low on energy? And sensing a bad hair day? And why isn't there any more coffee in the cabinet? Where the hell did it go? Did you take it? Do I have a lunch date for today? Am I supposed to be meeting someone, somewhere at sometime? Did I ask off for Friday? Where are my black pants? Who put a tissue in the laundry? Why is the window open when the heat is on? Why oh why did I watch any bit of that Britney Spears strip show last night? Is there an antidote? Why does my lower back hurt so much today? Is this going to be one of those typical Mondays? Did I forget to send in my car payment? Why am I sitting here blogging when the shower is runnning and the clock is ticking? Why must Monday mock me like this? Why won't it leave me alone?

Stay tuned for evasive answers to these questions and lots of fist-shaking, road-raging, truck-driver-mouth, very- little-patience-for-idiots, Monday type stories.

What, I made a couple of nice posts this weekend and you expect a full change in personality? Please, you know me better than that.

Posted by at 04:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

the story of david, on his first birthday

Several years ago, in the courthouse I work in (I was not working there yet at the time), an employee found the lifeless body of a newborn infant in a bathroom stall. One of the emergency workers who responded to the scene, Tim Jaccard, was so moved by the scene that he was motivated to start the AMT Children of Hope Foundation, a group which went on to found Safe Havens. Safe Havens are hospitals, private homes and houses of worship throughout Long Island that have drop-off points for women who have given birth, but for various reasons do not want to keep the babies. These are infants that may otherwise have been abandoned in restrooms or dumpsters, left for dead. Tim comes into this story again later.

My sister and her husband tried for many years to have a baby. When it became apparent that they were suffering from infertility, they sought medical help. They went through many tries at in-vitro fertilization, which is a physically and emotionally straining process. It never worked for them. They went through years of testing, experiments and physical procedures to try and conceive. They got to a point where they realized that it was just not going to happen for them. This is when they decided to try and adopt.

They first went to Catholic Charities, because my cousin adopted three children through them. They were turned down because my brother-in-law is Jewish. Nevermind that they are financially stable, own their own home, can provide a stable, loving environment for a child, and promised to raise the child Catholic. It wasn't good enough for them. Catholic Charities was a dead end.

They tried posting their number in colleges and on internet message boards made specifically for that purpose. Lots of phone calls, more dead ends.

One day my sister was talking to her friend Mary about her and her husband's frustration. Turns out Mary is Tim Jaccard's secretary. Mary put my sister in touch with Tim and the wheels began turning.

There were more dead ends at first. A young girl who decided to give her baby to someone else. A woman who, at the last minute, decided to keep her baby. That one was at Christmas time, and my sister had announced to us on Christmas Eve that they would be getting a baby. Two days later, the woman said no. And how can you be mad at that, really? She wanted to keep and raise her baby and that's a good thing, despite the pain it brought to my family. My sister and her husband made the decision that they would not tell anyone the next time there was hope for a baby. They would wait until the baby was born, the papers were signed and then and only then would they spread the news.

Cut to last December. I was sitting at my desk at work, when my sister (who works with me) came into my office looking pale. She was shaking. She had just received a phone call from Tim. There was a baby boy, born on November 20th and the mother, an illegal immigrant who had just come here from Burma, did not want this baby. She was ready and willing to sign papers giving him up. My sister and her husband had known about this woman since the baby was born, but said nothing to any family member, remembering what happened the last time. But now she had to tell me because Tim said on the phone to be ready to be a mother in two days. Two days. After years of waiting and hoping and being disappointed, she had two days to get ready for a baby. She was to leave work immediately and head to to the woman's apartment in Queens, where Tim was waiting for my sister and her husband to meet the mother. The mother wanted to see them first, to know who she was giving her baby up to. I walked my sister out to her car and wished her luck. As soon as she was gone, I broke a promise I made and called my mother.

Two hours later, my mother and I were in Target, spending a small fortune on baby supplies. Clothes, diapers, bottles and every accessory both useful and extravagant, were bought. By the time we got home, my father, who cannot keep a secret to save his life, had told every relative within shouting distance. Basically meaning everyone in town. Friends and family kept pulling up to the house, dropping off supplies. A bassinet. Enough diapers to last a month. More clothes, baby blankets, crib sheets. There were moments where we felt like we were jinxing the whole thing, pusing our luck, but we decided to test fate and stock up anyhow. Any woman who has ever had a child will tell you nine months is barely enough time to get everything ready. Imagine only having two days to prepare. We figured it was better to have this stuff ready for her than to have nothing ready at all, and have to run out that day to buy all the things they would need.

Sometime that night my sister called and said it was definite. The baby was theirs. He would be delivered to their home, by Tim, the next night. She still wouldn't believe it, wouldn't talk in definite tones until the baby was in her arms. Can you blame her?

The next day was a frenzy. There were still so many things to get, so many people to call. My sister was frantic, her husband was neurotic. By 9pm, there were 20 people, friends and family, sitting in their living room waiting for David. We had champagne ready. Finally, Tim pulled up at around 10pm. My sister freaked out and wouldn't go to the door. She was afraid Tim would be standing there empty handed, come to bring the bad news that the woman had changed her mind. I looked out the window and saw Tim lifting a little baby out of a car seat. I shoved my sister towards the front door and told her to chill out. And Tim walked in, held out David, and put him in my sister's waiting arms. There was not a dry eye in the house. My father was crying, the neighbors were crying. I thought my sister and her husband were both going to pass out. They held him and stared at him for the longest time and nobody moved, nobody talked. Finally, someone popped the cork on a champagne bottle and we all cheered. For the next hour, David was passed from person to person and we all stared in wonder at the baby we had waited so long for.

David is a year old now. Not a day goes by that I don't look at him and think about the birth mother he has out there somewhere, and I wonder if she knows what she gave up. I look at his engaging smile and listen to his loud laugh and kiss his soft little cheeks and I wonder. I see my sister and her husband with their child and I am so happy for them, and so thankful that Tim Jaccard afforded them this opportunity, that this adorable child was not abandoned in a dumpster in the dark of night because the mother had no one to turn to.

So happy first birthday, David. You are a lucky boy. You had a selfless, caring birth mother who made a choice that was hard for her and right for you. And you ended up in the arms and hearts of two people who will give you a lifetime of love.

Posted by at 08:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

blogs and cable and birthdays, oh my!

I added even more weblogs to the sidebar and changed the heading from Daily Fixations to Damn Fine Weblogs. Seriously, I cannot possibly read all those blogs every day. At least not since they took away our internet connection at work. But I do try to read each of them as much as possible because they are damn fine.

Today my digital cable is a week old. And what a week it's been. Besides the constant avialablity of a plethora of movies at my demand, and besides the Lindros Cam on the Ranger games, and besides the interactive channels and the ability to see Darkwing Duck once again, there is the digital radio. The channels between 800 and 840 offer me the chance to hear music that you just can't find on the radio. We hooked up the tv to our stereo speakers and spent most of yesterday surfing through the channels. The metal station is my favorite. Yesterday, I got to hear Godflesh, Kilgore and Type O Negative all in a row. And then there's the 80's station. Cheesy new wave at my fingertips 24 hours a day. They played Bill Nelson. Who even heard of Bill Nelson besides me? I was in my glory. There's 24 hour Christmas music (ok, it drives me nuts after 1 hour, and I doubt they play Pansy Division's Homo Christmas), and the Showcase station which was playing KMFDM when I checked yesterday.

The video on demand is like having a Blockbuster in your house. On Friday, DJ called up Gladiator and fast forwarded the movie so he could watch all the battle scenes. I watched the HBO Eddie Izzard special three times this week. I am in love with digital cable.

And speaking of HBO, last night we watched the live George Carlin show. Doesn't there come a point in your life when you are too old to tell fart jokes? I don't know what it is, but he's just not funny to me anymore. His material seems tired and forced. I did laugh out loud a couple of times, but not like I used to laugh at him.

Anyhow, got a birthday party for my nephew today, a big blow-out party because it's a special kind of birthday. One year ago, David was born to a single mother, an illegal immigrant from Burma living in Queens. A month later, he was placed in the arms of my sister. Today we celebrate his birthday. Next month we celebrate his adoption anniversary. I started writing a story about the events leading up to his adoption, because they are extraordinary. It's the story not just of the adoption itself, but of the man who orchestrated the whole thing, and what an angel he is to so many people. But I haven't finished the story yet, and I need to bake a cake (which may be a laughable story in itself) so I will post it tonight.

Posted by at 07:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

me, myself and meteors

I got up at 3:45, grabbed a blanket and coffee and headed outside. Nature did not disappoint. Within one minute of getting myself settled in the lounge chair, I was greeted by three comets trailing across the sky.

I know from being a way-too-early riser that between 4 and 5 am during the fall months is a great time for stargazing. The sky at the hour seems clearer, looks more wide open. I can see stars that at night-time are faded by a neon lit suburbia. I used to get up to watch the sunrise. Now, I get up to stare in wonder at the pictures the stars make across the sky in the early morning hours.

This was the perfect time for a meteor shower, then. I had anticipated past meteor showers but was always hampered by bad weather or a lousy show. Not this time. I saw at least one meteor a minute, sometimes 3 or 4. They came from every direction, shooting by the stars, leaving brief trails of brilliance behind them. It was really a site to behold, a moment taken from a science fiction movie and transposed to my backyard. I stayed out for about 45 minutes, until my hands were numb from the cold. All told, I saw well over 100 meteors streak by me, and for a little while, there was nothing in the world but me, the sky and nature putting on a brilliant show.

Posted by at 07:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

scream dracula, scream!

I always wanted to be a 350 lb. psychotic person who sings about rock bands and pop culture icons.

You know what this means? Tomorrow I put up a Wesley Willis song in honor of my being him. If you've never experienced the glory of Wesley, you have no idea what you're missing.

Posted by at 07:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)