Friday, December 31, 2010

Weekend in New England

Like many people, when a three-day-weekend approaches I plan to spend the time with those I love most in this world.  So together with my husband, we took a trip back up north to Rhode Island to visit my parents, my sisters and our friends as well.

Little did we know that the weather would hold us hostage.

Please keep in mind that Dennis loves snow, as do I.  In fact he spoke on more then one occasion of his hopes that it would snow enough for him to shovel because he misses shoveling so much.  Who says that?

So I lay the blame for the Blizzard of December 2010 completely at his hiking/snow weather shoes. All of you thousands of people that were stranded at airports up and down the east coast, you have my endearing yet freakish husband to blame.  He wished for this. With his entire Florida heart and Rhode Island soul.

We arrived without a problem on Friday morning. We immediately began eating and drinking and I personally never came up for air. My mom outdid herself by feeding and watering us without stopping. When faced with extra people and a need for dinner, something the herbivores and carnivores alike would eat, she wiped up a fabulous soup from the storehouse of supplies hidden in the basement. There was a fire blazing and plenty of Hitler historic movies to watch. We mixed many batches of spiced eggnog, watched movies, and laughed about the coming snow storm.

Saturday dawned to the smells of coffee and bacon. Huge breakfast that took all morning to create, consume and then my mother to clean up.  My father worked at wrapping the entire stove top in paper towel to prevent my mother from having to chisel the bacon fat off, but alas he couldn't prevent "KNOBS OFF", the name I lovingly gave to my mother's cleaning of the flat top stove, she takes the knobs off every night after dinner so she can massage the stove till it gleams. We were eating and cooking so much this weekend, she had to knobs off all day long to keep up with us.

We went out to the movies to see Tangled in the afternoon, which gave Jane a break and more time she know doubt used to clean where she couldn't reach while we were in her way and returned to yet another feast, turkey and all that comes with it.  The rest of the family arrived, Jen and Terrence, and soon we were laughing, eating, drinking and watching more Hitler historical movies...(because what is a family dinner without Hitler?)

And then Sunday the snow began. Granted, we mocked at first, even going out to breakfast at Julian's where I stuffed myself with stuffed french toast. Fudge stuffed french toast to be exact. We sent Kerri home to beat the storm and laughed at how the snow is never as bad as foretold... but when it started to come down at 4 inches an hour, I knew our departure would not be as we planned.  Monday there was the great digging out, when Dennis' wish was granted and shoveled for 2 hours.  And still the snow poured down. Flights were canceled all day Monday so we never even tried to attempt the airport.

Tuesday we kissed everyone goodbye and began the long wait  and inevitable gate hopping that is flying non-revenue standby. We ended up spending 12 hours at Logan Airport but never a flight did we board. Many people, who had bought tickets, were experiencing the same pain. Mothers were nursing their babies right at the gates, one flight of 200+ bound for NY waited 12 hours as their flight kept getting delayed until it was finally canceled at 7 PM. The customers could had driven themselves home by then, if there had been cars to drive.  I checked, there were no trains, buses or cars to be found. When Kate dropped us off at the airport she said we were facing the Super Dome when we went inside. She wasn't far from the truth. However,   I found it rather enjoyable because there was no absolute need to return. We could only try to get home and since we couldn't, Dennis and I opted to quit trying at 7 pm or so and we gathered our bags, caught the Silver Line to a nearby hotel where we changed, walked to a lovely Italian restaurant for dinner and the spent a restful night in a comfortable bed overlooking the harbor. What could be better then watching the sunrise over the water the next morning?

We repacked, returned to Logan and we were greeted with hundreds upon hundreds of stranded people all waiting in line for a glimmer of hope.  Somehow we managed to get listed on a little wanted and little known flight to Jacksonville, FL. We boarded and soon were flying somewhat home-ish. I will say that the plane was tiny and filled with a sweatshirt-matching-high-school-cheerleading girls, all giggling, all the time...need I say more? I'm not complaining though....we were getting closer, at least into the state.

Once we landed..out to the rental car we headed and Dennis drove us the remainder four hours home. So we made it back, 3 days later then we intended but happy from the adventure. Everything was perfect. Thank you to my mother and father for working so hard to keep us entertained and well fed, thank you to Kate for giving up her room, thank you to Kerri for the ride and the rubdowns and of course the laughs, thank you to Marty (Kerri's honey) for letting us have her again. And of course, thank you to Jen and T for visiting with us and adding to the memories and the all over good time. Truly, every moment was unforgettable.


Visiting family is always an adventure and mine is no different. I am never bored with them and I am never left hungry.

Monday, December 20, 2010

To my sister Jen, the wind beneath my wings



So, unknown to me, my sister Jen has been following my blog (which makes me really happy) and has become quite jealous that she hasn't been given due mention in it (in her eyes at least).  So in view of that I plan on dedicating this entry to my memories of my older (much much older sister) Jen.

Her full name is Jennifer but I never remember calling her that. She is 5.5 years older than me (that was five and a half, not 55 years) and from my earliest memories she was always loving and protective of me. She wanted me to be well educated so at a very young age she would write out math problems for me on a huge chalkboard and threaten me with a yardstick if I didn't complete them. I may have been 5 years old at the time.  I also remember clearly at the age of four we would play with a Frisbee in our front yard. Jen would throw it for me and I would chase merrily off after it.  I did notice that with each throw she was getting closer and closer toward the forbidden river along the side of our house until finally she threw it into the water. However, our mother stopped me from retrieving it that last time and saved my young life.  Jen just loved to play with me.

For example, when her friend Rachel would come over to play Barbies, Jen would allow me (after I begged enough) to make the Barbie refrigerator out of paper and then allowed me to sit by the open doorway and watch them play in her room.  She was so generous with me, so patient.

Jen was the best crab catcher I have ever heard of. She knew just how to throw the line, what was the best bait and where the best crabs hid. Every summer trip to the beach she would take the lead in crab catching, humanely keeping them in buckets for the day and then their final release.  She was amazing.

Seriously though, once we grew up and she finished taunting me in front of her friends, we became quite close.  All joking aside, I can't imagine our family without Jen.  For years I have battled with consuming jealousy.  Jen was the funny one and the pretty one, which having both always seemed unfair to me. Wasn't one enough? No, she had to be blessed with both. Perfect hair and perfect blue eyes.

Jen makes everything fun or funny.  I mean everything. She can make me laugh like nobody's business.  She just has a way of saying things and looking at life that is without match in anyone I have ever known. No really, I mean it.  I promised Jen that this blog entry would be honest in every detail (even after she threatened me. She may still have that yardstick).

Jen is really great with animals, especially dogs and everything I know about training my dog I learned from her.  She is gifted with them.

I would say that Jen is strongest in her loyalty and her humor, her generous spirit and in her tireless support of those she loves.  Mocking you the whole time and making you laugh at yourself, she would be the first to give you the shirt off her back, the bag in her closet (as long as it isn't the Kate Spade bag or the Gucci.....  any other one yes!), and she would rally around you (me) whenever it was needed. She is a loyal cheerleader and a fierce defender.

I can remember convincing Jen to accompany me to NY at the crack of dawn to stand outside in the freezing rain for hours in November because I thought there might be a secret U2 concert there.  And there was and we will always have the memory of screaming and dancing and singing with the lucky few who stood and waited.  Amazing.  And then she was the one keeping me awake on the drive home. She talked for 4 hours straight, even singing the alphabet to help me not nod off.  Jen really is the best sport.  It helps that I can pretty much talk her into anything.

And she is the best co-pilot too.  And no matter where we head out too we always end up going the wrong way and having an adventure.  She even makes me laugh when I am stressed and the music has to get turned down because I'm lost. Jen knows that nothing changes on New Year's day and she knows that loving a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be. She also knows when to hold em and knows when to fold em.

She is my support whenever I hatch some crazy plan and want to see a show, a concert, a play, a musical or anything else. She is my party, party girl. The songs are in her eyes. She is my first pick for NY trips and we have had some wild ones. From front row tickets to operas and eating at Russian hide-away restaurants or crazy Polish diners, to shopping everywhere imaginable and walking for miles and miles till our feet bled just so that I could get the perfect picture of the skyline. Who else but Jen would do that for me, with me?

She is the one who chases away my darkness and she keeps me walking on when the rest of the world tries to break my glass heart.  She has had to break some of the worst news to me and she understood without words exactly what I needed and how.  I didn't feel quite so alone that night with her voice on the other end of the phone, sharing in my disbelief and pain. I'll always remember that.

I remember one dark period, right before I moved back in with my parents, when I was the poorest I have ever been.  No money for food or rent poor.  I worked so much, Jen would come to my loft to walk Anna for me. She must have noticed every week that I had less and less food in my cupboard.  I really don't know how I survived. Finally I had to decide between buying dog food or buying me food.  Anna won.  So I scrapped together enough to buy a roasted chicken and I lived off of it for a few days.  Finally it ran low and I took the last leg, literally, the last chicken leg with me to work for lunch. Well, Jen walked Anna and sent me a message on my phone that day...

"Your refrigerator looks like a vulture lives here, just water and the clean picked bones of a chicken"

I had to laugh.  When I got home, I arrived to find the fridge overflowing with food, the pantry closet full and my favorite pastries on the counter. A card from Jen was with the pastry saying that she loved me and that she just thought she would pick me up a few things.  A few things? It was a month's worth of groceries in my world. I proceeded to try one of everything until I was properly sick and lying on the floor of my kitchen, drowning in tears.  It was one of those moments in life, when you are faced with  an absolute dead end and someone opens a door.  That is what Jen did for me that day, and what she continues to do.

At my wedding recently, as hard as it was for both of us to part, she never added to my sadness.  I knew she was happy that I was happy, she knew that it was not goodbye. We laughed and ate and laughed some more.  Jen supported my every crazy idea without judgment.  Jen, I want you to know that you don't need me anymore, but I need you. I want you to know that you don't need anyone or anything at all.  Who's to say where the wind will take you, maybe to Florida??

Yes, for me, hands down, my relationship with Jen really solidified and went to the next level when I survived my divorce and she learned the ugly truth of my marriage.  She quickly, with lightening speed really, jumped into the fray to defend me in anyway she could.  Even looking for ways to run my Ex down with her car. My favorite was her logical plan that if we couldn't kill him, he should be sent to Jupiter because really, what was the point of his existence here on earth? She is the best.   Her love and devotion to me strengthened me in ways she may never fully understand. She helped me get to a better place.  She is my miracle drug, or is it drugs :)

Jen is one of the hardest parts of my new life here in FL. Being away from her. For me she represents the center of my family, the sun we all orbit around.  I can't meet her for lunch or shopping, or car pool with her, or run into her at our parent's house.  I took seeing her every week for granted.  I regret that.  But she never makes me feel badly about my choice, she never guilt's me when I call, or needles me about why she isn't mentioned more in my blog.  No, not Jen, she is too good to sink that low.

So here is to my sister Jen, who almost killed me as a baby, drowned me as a small child and saved me as an adult.  Jen brought music into my life and she still rocks my world, truly.  She brought me Sunday Bloody Sunday and I brought her a true appreciation of Meatloaf. Word!  I would be lost without my older sister and no matter how far apart we are or where we end up, nothing can keep us apart.  I love you Jen.

There really isn't enough room here to even scratch the surface of Jen. Maybe I should start a series?

Sunday, December 19, 2010

To the faithful kind followers

I couldn't help but notice that my blog has had some increased traffic lately. Let me say that it is a true honor to write and have someone read it. I know that many of you are family and long time friends and still some others of you may have clicked on my page completely by mistake...perhaps you were searching for places to find hummingbirds in Rhode Island or researching brain surgeons in your area.

Regardless of how you got here, let me say honestly and from the bottom of my heart,

THANK YOU

Just know that each and every time, even if it was only once by mistake, you clicked here and read my foolish words, you are feeding a dreamer and a dream. Right at the top with with poet, painter, dancer and photographer, WRITER is my all time dream to end all dreams.  To write and have others read, to make them laugh and cry and want to read more, that is my dream. To tell you a story that paints the picture so vividly for you, it's as if you stepped right into my mind and you enjoyed the visit.

And to dream, isn't that the best part of life? To hope, to believe huge things of ourselves, of others? I think so. I think to be a dreamer and to encourage one are great achievements.

I hope someday to have the sufficient courage to follow this dream to the end and write a book worthy of each of you. Every time you come here to visit me, you help me believe I could do it. So thank you, each of you and any that may come after this is published. I hope this knowledge won't stem the tide of readers in the hopes that I will shut up but even if that is the case, I am thrilled you came by at all. In fact, I am speechless by your generosity, well...almost speechless....I'd have to stop breathing all together to be speechless.  But close, very very close to speechless because every time I see my reader numbers go up by even one more, I catch my breath.  Thank you everyone. When I started writing here way back in July I never thought anyone would see my words. And yet here you are. Amazing.  What else is possible?

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Listen to the lyrics

Everything I ever needed to know about love and life I learned by listening to the lyrics.  It started when I was very young, maybe four or so.  I can clearly remember my mother ironing and I would help by buttoning every single button on my father's dress shirts.  Little did I know that this "helpful" act would cause my father much annoyance when his hand would get stuck in his sleeve.  What music we were listening too? Neil Diamond.

I knew the words off by heart.."Shilo when I was young, I used to call your name"..."You don't bring me flowers anymore" and of course "Love on the rocks, ain't no big surprise" Looking back even though I had no idea what he was talking about, I felt like I understood him...he sounded like he knew all about love. And he did...the flowers do stop, the love songs don't get sung to you forever..and before you know it, you just turn off the light. Sad but true.

A little more forward in my life and I can clearly remember road trips with my parents and my sister, listening to Dylan and Baez.

"Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
  Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands             
  With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves 
  Let me forget about today until tomorrow"

Those words only grew to resonant deeper with me as time passed.  And of course singing along with my mom to Buffy St. Marie and Barry Manilow..I learned to be angry at the injustice of a nation and at the same time to know a showgirl named Lola.

My baby sister Kate fit into the clan right away and proved to be a great source of meaningful music. One of my most treasured gifts is a CD she made me with an accompanying book explaining what each song means to her in regards to me.  Every time I listen to it, it's like she is talking to me.

Recently I made the shocking discovery that my husband, the love of my life, the man I married after an amazing whirlwind romance......wait for it...doesn't know the lyrics to anything.

"I never listen to the words of songs" he blithely said to me.

WHAT??!!!

What have I done? How can that be? I could feel the 16-year-old within me cringe and shake her finger with an 'told-you-so' scowl on her face.  How could I?  What was I thinking?  I did mention it was a whirlwind right? Some how I missed the "don't you love the words of this song?" question. 

Needless to say, he wasn't pulling my chain,..... not by any means.  I recently played Diamonds and Rust to him in the car and he just couldn't get it.  He kept asking "what did she say?"
Oh God...

I shared Bono's insights into my soul with the song "Walk On" and my poor husband really tried to get it for my sake, but when you don't feel it you just don't. "What was that last line? I don't understand"

How could I love someone that doesn't take music as seriously as I do? And yet, I do.  Well, maybe I take it seriously enough for the both of us. And as my mother reminded me in an email, my husband hears in the music what I gather from the words. He is musical and I am lyrical.   How true she is.  Still, I speak lyric, for now anyway. The words are what stay with me, they are what I hear. 

"Speaking strictly for me, we both could have died then and there" are words that continue to haunt me.  Along with "I can't take my eyes off of you". Just typing the words give me chills even now, even years and thousands of miles away .  I remember the exact moment I first heard the words and who I heard them with and most importantly, what it all meant to me then.

For me, lyrics are the poetry that touches me on every level. Like the singer was there with me, knows just how I feel or felt.  I'm not ashamed of what happened because I know someone understands.  And I have hope that it will get better, I will heal, this is normal and so forth.

My whole family listens to the lyrics but it started for me with my mother.  She taught me.  Ironing to the Diamond.  My life changed then.  I don't iron but I'll always remember the words and I'll always listen to the lyrics.  Playing certain tunes brings me right back to good places, sad places, turning points and dead ends.  There are some songs I can't even listen to anymore, the memories are too difficult to navigate. 

My sister Jen is the magician in the family that always hears the lyrics correctly.  I make them up when I can't understand the artist or I just skip over but not Jen.  She ALWAYS knows.  We have fought many times. 


Its the old mistake of "You make me feel like a man should a woman" or is it  "You make me feel like a natural woman'" ????
 Yeah...Jen would always know, she's good at the correct lyrics part. And she gets it, we can talk through song lyrics.  It has become a language of sorts to us. 

With my Dad... I can't remember much about him showing me new lyrics but he always knows what Dylan is saying and no matter what I wanted him to hear, he would always patiently listen to me.  And he always showed the proper enthusiasm, which greatly encouraged me. What I loved, he would love and when I explained it, how I saw it, he always agreed with me. From Dave Matthews to Bono...my Dad would always stop to listen.

My close friends too, we always shared in discussing lyrics.  Certain songs will always belong in my mind to them, make me think of them whenever I hear those words.  


So, a successful whirlwind romance without sharing an obsession with song lyrics??? Yes it happened and I don't regret it. Good thing too, otherwise I'd just be "Stuck in a Moment" that I can't get out of. Thankfully instead I'm "Crazy in Love"  

Sunday, December 12, 2010

A month of Sundays

The Holiday season has arrived and in a blink of your eye, it will be 2011.  Where does the time go?

People are readying themselves for the giving blitz that is December...and as I look outside my window the sun is bright without a cloud in the sky.  The wind is balmy (coming from the South West according to my national weather advisor Dennis) and it hardly feels cooler then 70.  Yes, it is 70 in the shade (I just looked up at the thermometer) Amazing.  There are Christmas lights on houses and holiday music on the radio but no sign of the ticking off of the days toward Winter, at least not to me, sitting here on the warm balcony.  I'm really liking this living down south.

Recently this past week I had to wear a jacket to work and some of my neighbors were scrapping their windshields in the morning. It was 40 degrees.  Shocking.   Already I am cold beyond words at 40.

Its another Sunday morning.  As anyone who reads this blog will already know, this is my favorite day of the week.  Its the lazy day, the big breakfast day.  Its the first and last morning I get all to myself.  Expect today there was no big breakfast due to the fact that we have been so busy this week our cupboard is literally bare.  I was able to scrape coffee together and Dennis ate cereal.  Somehow it doesn't feel like the Sunday I know and love.  Although I can hear the smooth Jazz coming from the other room so it must be Sunday morning.

Even our dog Anna knows the difference when its Sunday morning.  She spends the morning moving from the sunny spot on the front balcony to the shade inside the house to cool off.  She doesn't demand her walk at 7 AM like she does every other day.  Anna can feel the laziness in the air.

It never ceases to amaze me how dogs just know.  They know when you are too busy to take them for a long walk, they know when you are leaving and its not the normal time to go. They understand your mood and your pain.  They even seem to respond to the feelings between people in the house.  If Dennis and I are calm and happy, Anna is laying in the middle of the floor.  If Dennis and I are late and rushing around, Anna is standing watching us, looking stressed out.  Funny how she can't speak the same language but she always knows what we are saying.

That's another thing I love about Sundays.  Time slows down enough for me to watch and notice the little bits of my life, like how Anna acts in relation to us.  I wouldn't have time to reflect on that on any other day.  I could do with a month of Sundays.  One right after the other.  No requirements, no deadlines, no postal service or bank service, no one expecting anything of you. Just time to watch the dog, feel the sun on your skin and make special breakfast (if your cupboard isn't bare)

How would you spend a month of Sundays?

Thursday, December 9, 2010

TORN

"Having edges that are jagged"  "Lacerate"

Maybe "torn" isn't the right word but it's where my mind goes to when I think about putting into words what I feel.  I'm visiting my family and today is the last day, I fly away in a few hours. And I would say I feel torn, between the people and things I love here and the life I have back there.  Torn and even a little guilty.  Guilty for loving a new place and faithless to my home state.

There is something to be said about "coming home".  Everyone is so happy to see you and there is never enough time to see all the people you want to see.  And you end up missing the people you left behind to get here is the first place.  My mother said "You can't have it all"  So true. When you come back home, you fit so well with whatever is going on.  You know where you are, where you are going.  You know everyone and everything.  There is very little surprise.  It is comforting to be where you know the beginning and the ending.

As I reflect back I am struck by how I have been misbehaving.  No one has accused me but its true, I have said mean things about FL and I've been whining even more than usual. I have been rude to her, thoughtless and difficult.  As it turns out, no one place has it all.  Back in FL I have begun to create a life there.  Obviously my husband is there and that's a reason to go back but more than that, I have people I care about and people I miss. I have a routine there. I have a coffee shop I like, finally.  And a really great bagel shop where they know my name.

Being back with my parents I realize that I have no definite spot here. No room to go back to and it even smells different here than I remember.  I am a visitor now. It is where I'm from, where my family is but its not my home.  Not anymore. My clothes aren't there, my dog, my shoes, my stuff...nothing is there. When you look from room to room, there is no evidence that I lived there at all.  It feels weird..  I guess I thought I would have left a more indelible mark.

And that's okay,,,even..dare I say..normal?  I am happy to be close to everyone I love up here but I can't stay because there is no place for me here anymore.

Back in FL, besides the obvious things I miss, there are the hooting mad Sandhill cranes in the woods behind our house that I miss listening to and laughing at. I miss the sound of the alligators too.  And I miss the view of the sky..how big it is and how beautiful the clouds look.  I miss the palm trees swaying in the light wind...I miss walking Anna and seeing countless bunny rabbits that she loves to dash after. The air in Florida always smells like flowers, like living growing things.  I have grown accustomed to the face of Florida and I think if I let myself, if I stop feeling bad for myself long enough, I may learn to love her.

I guess I have become rooted.

Rather than feeling torn, perhaps I now have two homes and I'll never have to choose between them.