Ready ? Set ? GOOOOO

So I am done with this semester, finally.....After months of working my ass off I can finally take a breath, loosen my posture of  "at attention" just a little bit and just for a little while. It means not all of me is going to be exhausted, just some of me....I cannot wait to get to that point, it'll be a few days to come down and maybe a few more considering it will be in the thick of Christmas Eve or Morning. I am not sure what normal human feels like any more but I am looking forward to meeting that person again. This is not only a come down for a few weeks, but also a few solid weeks to re-group and start out new, seeing with a fresh pair of clean eyes. I need to do some serious soul searching. Some serious battle prep for war with myself, my weaker and more evil inner voice. Man she is something that coaxer and excuse maker. She reels me in time and again even though I know what she's up to and also know she's a coward. She has this way about her, hhmmmm.
And so I say this mission is one of self respect (yet again)

Here's the situation as I see it... I had to go to school when I did, the right things had to happen to get me there in my head. When that happened, naturally I was in the best physical shape of my life and feeling pretty good about myself and my health. I had arrived at a place where running 25 miles a week was average and weight bars were dance partners. It was fairly amazing to be almost 40 and a Mother to four children, (one who was 19) and be damn sure I could out run an attacker and kick his ass, if not. Felt like a machine in a lot of ways, the mechanics were oiled and parts were in sync. It was good.
Then came school and oh how I loved school. That did for me psychologically what running did for me physically, my brain got tough like my abs. Buttttttt the school work took place of the gym work and before I knew it I was sustaining myself through the late night classes with late meals, late night snacks and during history and sometimes philosophy a cookie and/or a candy bar....I noticed that I was gaining weight last winter and knew that things were slackening up from the lack of pump, but still I thought I had it under control. Then I realized this summer my summer clothes felt different and my boobs were too big for last years bikini. I didn't pressure myself though, after all Papa had died and I did two semesters at 4.0, no one could do it all.......
Then Ms. Evil said go ahead, smoke one....Then before I knew it my slippery slope sent me reeling backward and and in too deep, too fast. Marlboro menthol golds and candy bars, shit.
Now I am three weeks in, back off the butts BUT 17 pounds heavier....I haven't really run run in a year, maybe fifteen months.
I can't do it all.... but I CAN that's the thing. I will never be perfect and I am so cool with imperfection, I am not however, down with unhealthy. That girl is not my "it girl", she's that excuse giver and allowance maker....
So back to square 1, on Jan 1....This self respecting healthy thriving woman is about to get her Libra on and better balance all things Deb. Running is what I do and I believe, will be a great power tool for the stamina full time college requires of a for a  40 year old Ma. I am bout to get my run on and my A's on, same time, together. I am getting the brain and the machine to work together next semester, lets see all the things they push each other to do....Getting back in the drivers seat, almost there in my head, 10 days to go.

summertime blues

Sighhhhhh,
I am feeling a little down today, a lot like I want to crawl into bed and hide. I can't seem to get out of my own way emotionally and my reflection makes me me want to to puke. I have a PINK lyric on loop in the brain, "It's bad when you annoy yourself" If only it were that simple and specific. If that were the case I 'd avoid mirrors, unfortunately everything is grating on my nerves today. I think it must be hormonal and the fact that old man Winter has wrapped me in cold that seeps in deep, hurting my bones and my spirit 24/7.... I believe it's happened, my vitamin D stores have finally run out, along with any pigmentation to my skin.... I am experiencing the onset of Winter depression and the joys of womanhood all in one day and crying seems the only logical and reasonable thing to do.
I managed to wrap some presents with Emma and than we gave Willa a dog bath in the tub in my bathroom. I did succeed in completing two tasks and no one paid with their life, so all in all I feel satisfied that at the very least there are no warrants out for my arrest. I did shower and changed from my footie pajamas to sweat pants and my favorite old worn t-shirt. I have deodorant on and my hair is clean, although it is drying on my head in ringlets like Medusa's writhing snakes. Fuck it.
ugghhhhh. What a miserable bitch I am today....wow.
I want summer back and I want it back now. I want the heat, the chlorine smells, the sweat droplets running down my front and pooling in my bellybutton. I want inappropriate day dreams taking place to the backdrop of Dave on the ipod as I lay on my back, one knee up swaying out, then in and out, then in. I want to dive in the cool water and wash myself clean of stress. I want to float and hear kids laughing. I want to stare into the day-glow green rimmed yellow and pink spots that dance behind squinting lids following the sun's game of  peek a boo with that passing cloud...I want the smell of my summer perfume mingled with my summer thoughts. I want strapless sundresses and tanned bare shoulders. I want flip flops and high heeled sandals. I want to suck ice cubes for relief, relief from the oppressive heat and all things elusive. I want summer.

I NEED to take my vitamin D and some ibu but I think I'll go dig my beach towels from the linen closet and suffocate myself in them instead...... I'm kidding, sort of.

Winter wonderland my ass

Grrrrrr,
It's snowing in Virginia....I am in defense against the elements mode. It's so stupid. I see white outside and instantly begin to throw open kitchen cabinets accessing what masterpieces I can drum up with whatever I have hanging around on shelves and in the fridge. I become a pacing, anxiety ridden, cooking fool. I am kinda scared that I may be permanently damaged and that this unreasonable reaction to the winter elements may be a fixed part of who I now am.... I do not like it, not one damn bit.
I am after all, a Northern girl. I grew up in Boston and went even further up for seven years and hung out in Maine for a bit. I know snow. And although I literally had enough wintry precip to last me a lifetime, I didn't feel threatened by it until last year in Virginia, the SOUTH.
I really can't rehash it, it really makes me feel sick to go there, I will just say that I thought I might die and it emotionally damaged me.
I set out on foot after eight and a half hours in my vehicle. I think it went a little like this....
I opened my car door, slammed it, kicked it, swore like a drunk sailor and said "Fuck You Mother Nature, I am a Northern Girl, you won't fucking get the best of me Bitch" and off I went into the dark snowy night, pissed off way beyond irrationality.
I had no light, not nearly enough clothes on and I was all alone, knee deep in heavy wet snow. It was ugly. The thing that I didn't anticipate, was how quickly I would lose my bearings. I really thought I had a good grasp on where I was, but what I found out there in the elements, is that very quickly in the dark and with snow falling in solid white sheets around you, your perception of space and time zeros out rapidly.
Obviously I made it home, BUT I didn't make it out unscathed. I vividly recall, the feeling of my hysterical tears freezing solid on my face as I listened to Marys voice (cell phone tucked in my coat collar) urge me to "keep going, keep walking, you're doing great" even though she and I both knew, we had no real idea where the fuck I was.
It was the first time I was afraid of Nature and felt it's wrath in one on one combat, I survived but man did she kick my ass....
After I stopped crying and thawing, I began to cook. I built up walls of food to protect myself. Warm oven. warm food. Warm house. Screw the snow. Warm food, warm over, warm jammies, warm cookies, warm bread, warm bath. This went on for weeks until we lost power.....
And with that I have had enough remembering, my stomach is hurting, literally.
I love the Holidays and I know that snow falling is supposed to make me want to make hot cocoa for the kids and listen to merry music about walking in Winter wonderlands...
BUT instead, I wish a little bottle would appear on my counter that says drink me (no not red wine). A bottle like the one in Alice in Wonderland, except in Deb's Wonderland I would take my miniature size self and scale my little ass up and over the side of the crock pot and fall in with with the roast I just started. There where it's warm and fragrant, I would wait to come out until the pool opens in May....I HATE SNOW.

Dove of friendship

Happy Humpday Peeps,

As we rapidly approach Christmas and are presently in the thick of the holiday season, I am making a conscious effort to pause regularly, seek out, recognize and count my many blessings. I have discovered that I am blessed in too, too many ways to count, both the simple and the complex in nature are in numbers that astound me, I have lost track... I am however, most unusually blessed in the friendship department. (LUCKY ME) I am over the top blessed in that I have more than one good friend, I am well aware that there are many people who have none. :(
For whatever reason, I have the most have the most wonderful group of wild natured women in my inner circle. Truly, I know the coolest, most amazing, bad ass and beautiful chicks.


I had a moment yesterday at work that punched me square in the emotional gut and left me thinking of my love for all these gals, but especially my bestie/wife Mary Dyer....
I have worked (in some capacity or another) at this damn gift shop on the downtown mall for fourteen long years. I love the interaction with people, it is what has kept me employed there and after all, is the only sane reason for working in retail. Every once in a great while I will receive the rare gift of a conversation with a customer that will deeply effect me.  Either the subject matter, the person or both will having a lingering effect, the positive just resonates....So this is how it went on 12/14/2010...
This woman blew in the front door on a wind gust that sent a chill down my entire body and froze in my toes that funny enough, were double layered in socks and in my furriest of UGG boots. I cracked some stupid joke about the cold and her reaction was as frigid as the wind. I thought "Oookay" and went about my busy work. Eventually it was clear, as she paced the jewelry counter back and forth that she was looking for something that could not, to her obvious frustration, be found. I offered my help, "you look like you are searching for something specific?"  and she reluctantly told me she was looking for a small, very plain, bronze dove earring. She further explained that she had purchased a pair at the store the day after Thanksgiving as a gift for a friend and that the friend had tragically lost one and she NEEDED to replace it. There was, and I am not exaggerating, a real urgency in the word need...
We looked together, her and I, spinning each earring tree slowly and methodically searching for these elusive birds with our two pair of eyes and to no avail, no bronze doves. I could see in each let down as we slowly eliminated every corner of the store as their hiding place, her posture was sinking into her spine and the color was draining from her already pale cheeks....She blurted suddenly, "I don't want to talk about it, but I have to find that earring for my best friend, I just have to, you don't understand"
She heaved a little as she spoke, as if a stomach cramp had seized her insides and stolen her voice and breath. I recognize that pain/fear, I have felt that before and I knew immediately this dove mission came to me for a reason and I was going to, come hell or high water find the damn doves.
I pride myself on not being intrusive, but do seem to have a way of comforting and coaxing people into divulging that which will surely make them ugly cry, there is an assurance in my eye contact, you are safe here with me, it's okay... And I said,
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to say a word more, you said friend and I have those and I can certainly imagine the sadness of a cherished gift lost, let's pull some catalogs and we will look until we find a replacement that is at least suitable if not the same one"
It was then that she broke..."I bought them for my very best, my dearest friend, she was just diagnosed with a rare blood cancer and they were her good luck charms, she lost one having chemo on Friday, she's heartbroken, she feels somehow more vulnerable without the dove, I need the dove, she needs the dove"

I was in terms of endearment watching Shirley Maclaine yell at the nurse, "GIVE MY DAUGHTER THE MORPHINE" and my heart broke and my eyes welled. Long story short, I pulled catalogs and called jewelers and searched buckets of back stock until I found the doves. There was no way her BF was going into chemo lacking confidence, especially if I had any say. Apparently I did.
She thanked me for being so kind and so thoughtful and so sweet. WHATEVER, I told her "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, I am irrelevant except for the fact that I also have a best friend and I would go to the ends of the earth for mine too"
I love my friends. I love Mary Dyer. As I age and get closer and closer to that statistical range of inevitable illness, I wonder who it will be? Will it be me with the cancer or Mary? Will it be Dana or Becca, Steph or Danielle? I hate it. I wish there were a way we could all get by without blood cancer, or breast cancer or whatever the fuck... WE CAN'T, we just can't. :(
If it ends up being me me, love me. If it's you, I will smother you in love to the point that you get sick of me. Whatever the case, thanks in advance, just in case, to all my friends. Thanks for all the laughter and tears and listening and music and support and encouragement and the years. I really do love you all.... I know the dove is a symbol of peace but now, for me it will forever remind me of you all. The friendship dove. Tearing up again, sheesh I am wreckage...
And to my BF, my perch, as always,  YOU ARE THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS (whether it be dove or canary).

finally finals

Hi,

For those of you blog viewers who do not know me super well, I am a college student, third semester. You should also know, that this is a huge deal for me. Although most of the world automatically assumes that I am pure bad ass, the truth is I am not. Well I mean I am, BUT up until about two years ago that trait was mostly a survival mechanism and in large part a facade. There is after all, a monumental difference between being a survivor and going in with confidence. I am a survivor, no doubt, and I am proud as hell of not only what I have survived, but the grace and agility I have shown while engaged in battle time after time. But I will be honest here and say that JUST always ONLY surviving, can feel a little lack luster with the ticking of time....
For various reasons (blogs for other days), I finally arrived at the place where I was ready to not survive this life but be the captain of my own damn ship. The college process and harnessing my love of writing is key to that destiny, and so here I am, third semester and in finals week hell...
This semester has been tough for me. I took on more credits in extremely demanding classes and have dizzily balanced the fine line of less than perfect all semester. My biggest personal beef is that I HATE performing at a level lower than what I am capable of BUT I have made real progress this season reminding myself that I am not your average 20 year old student, I am a woman with an overflowing life. It is inevitable under these circumstances to sometimes fall short of my best in every arena of my life.....
It's hard for me, but very factual.
Finals week is Hell week, it is all out, complete and total misery. I am exhausted, anxiety ridden and feel like every bit of information I cram in, falls expediently out of a trap door in my forty year old, early onset of Alzheimer's brain. It's Christmas, I have kids, I work in retail and I am a full time college student with four finals in one week....What was I thinking???
Who am I kidding, I love all this misery, LOVE it with all my big and full heart. LOVE that I am finally a college student who can rightfully bitch about exams. Love that I am not merely surviving finals week, but   thriving in finals week and have kicked ass on two thus far.
Really, I am overwhelmingly happy (although this week incredibly ugly and twitching slightly)
I am sooooo blessed to finally have finals in my world.

Just be.

Hey there,

So yesterday I ranted a bit about passive aggression and germs. Today I was going to take the day off from opinions, rants, commentary of any kind. That wasssss until my 7 year old daughter just whined at me that she is bored. Not BORED, quick and to the point but drawn out "I'mmmmmm borrrreeeeedddd",  high pitched and accompanying the absolute worst fake cry, ever.
I'm an awful Mother.... I responded by saying "I don't want to hear it, if you live the kind of life where you have time to be bored, I got no sympathy for you Sister love"
Me with the Western Civ II exam final looming over my every waking moment...(cry me a river kiddo)  Now I am completely aware that I CHOSE school and I know that I should not be impatient because I have to study while they get to be bored with all the playing...(OMG)  And honestly I don't think that is it, although I will admit I would saw off my right leg for boredom right now...I think what really irks me so, is that kids these days are so different from what I was when I was seven. I can remember playing with ants on the side of the road in front of Willoughby St. for hours before I ever would have gone in and said to my Mother "I'm bored"
My good bud Steph pointed out a similar sentiment last night on her Facebook status. She said that kids are desensitized to the magic of Christmas specials because they are constant cartoon consumers. We were Saturday morning only kids, and the month of December with Frosty and Rudolph was magical indeed.
I miss those days profoundly. I am almost considering shutting off my cable. I miss simplicity and imagination and quiet play. I long for a day when my kids won't ask "what are we doing today?"
I long for just being and a lot less doing.

You do the math...

Hey again,

So guess where I am??? HOME,  Grrrrrr. Now for the majority of the country this home on Saturday thing is normal. For me however, in retail hell, Saturday = my Tuesday in work week time...
You see, when I awoke this morning, no matter how I hard tried, I just couldn't force my eyes open. I think I believed it was just the usual denial my body shows my brain when the internal clock begins blaring in my head. Get up Get up Get up. Usually I tell that clock to shut the hell up and resume my alternate universe dreaming. But this lovely morning, the eyes refusing to open wasn't all in my head. Literally, they were glued shut. As I began to rise through the paces of consciousness, I realized that beneath the shade of my lids, a fire was burning and I thought, FUCK!!! SERIOUSLY???
Yup, you Mothers guessed it... I have the "PINK EYE" I am officially back in grade school....
And so, I soaked a cloth in hot ass water and began the de-glazing process. This shit is heinous.
I really thought about calling in sick, but considering the tension that exists at work, on top of the Holiday tension, and the fact that my friend just passed, I assumed I would really sound like a faker if I called in saying "Um yeah good news,  I'm sick."
So I drove my pathetic, infected puss eyed sick ass self all the way in town...
When I ordered my usual coffee at Cafe Cubano and the barista who has worked there for years and knows me really well, recoils in horror making  a OOOHhhhh Ahh grossssss OOOuch face when I take my sunglasses off to greet her, I realize this is worse than I thought.
And so, now I am home because really no customer wants conjunctivitis from the sniffly,sneezy, nose blowing pink eyed  sales girl. No matter how cute she may be.
And here is my question to all you Mothers (sorry Dads, I don't want to hear it)
How many hours of Motherhood have you spent sick with gifts from the petrie dish of your child's day care, nursery school, play date...(and the possibilities of snot are infinite)
Seriously????

passive aggression sucks

Good cold ass December morning,

So I have been thinking a lot about passive/aggressive behavior and  unfortunately not by choice....It's up in my face every time I turn around. At the grocery store, at work, in the line at the bank....It confuses me. What the hell is happening that adults cannot effectively communicate? What kind of example are we providing our youth? Now I say "we" loosely here because I literally, do not suffer from this ailment. I am direct and confrontational and if I feel it well damn it I am just going to say it, because after all it's what I REALLY FEEL. I just do not know any other way to be and based on what I see around me in other adults, I have to be honest I wouldn't want to be any other way. Now, I am not implying that by saying what I honestly feel, I have license to be hurtful or mean, quite to the contrary actually. I try very hard to  live by my Nana's rule and example, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." There are plenty of instances where people piss me off, make me nuts by way of annoyance or their outfit is just plain wrong, but those thoughts stay in my head and dissipate rather quickly once my conscience interjects and asks me "who the hell are you?"(these thoughts are just my dark side poking private fun) I have learned over my lifetime, it is far MORE productive to tell people how fabulous they anyways, and that  HONEST expression rules.
Sometimes however, life does require you to communicate feelings that are uncomfortable. Do it, just do it. Do it calmly and respectfully and minus as much anger and aggression as possible, but do it. Life is not just all syrupy sweet. There is without a doubt a shit ton of honest to God ugly. It is an unavoidable fact of life. But Jesus, just do it rather than passively smile a smile that communicates I want to drive my fist in your face.
I CAN'T STAND THAT SHIT. If you are uncomfortable communicate it effectively rather than stomp and slam and act like a child throwing a tantrum. Speak. Say "hey that makes me really uncomfortable, could we talk about it?" RATHER than, banging shit and rolling eyes and looking as though you smell something foul...
I say talk about it. Be a lover not a fighter, rather than a fighter who pretends to be a lover.
It scares me is all. Is this where we are headed? It's everywhere I turn. And what does that mean for the future??? How will we problem solve, how will we handle conflict? If this frame of mind becomes the norm, the human race is just screwed period.
I am sad about it and wish that everyone would just talk more...

Light it up yo.

Hey all Ya'll,

So after the darkness of yesterday, today I could really use some lightheartedness or I just may seize. For those of you who made it through my verbal vomit last night, I applaud you on your patience. 12/9/10 definitely a full circle day, thanks all you Guys and Gals that showed me the love...

So light huh???? Hmm I know, how about the Beloved Christmas Tree???  Yeah let's discuss... So my BF Mary and I have a pissing contest on the walls of facebook every holiday season concerning the ole Xmas tree, she apparently is living the Wonderful life while I am the Grinch. So not true, but you'd assume so by our comments...

Here's my issue, she puts her damn tree up mid-October and it stays the focal point in her house til like Easter. Whatever it's her house. My problem is that she puts a photo of her God damned Christmas tree as her status picture on Facebook and even though it is just a social network, it is the way I get to see my best friends face dailyyy. I have my own sparkly tree, show me some bosom and shifty up to no good eyes  for the Love of God. Spread the seasonal Spirit Mirm, show a BF some face. Christams trees are everywhere!!!

I will admit, because I am NOT a Scrooge, that I am bedazzled all the lights and driving at night is now hazardous, cause FYI, not paying attention to the road at all...It's the window trees I like the best. The ones where you see them just enough to sort of make out it's flavor. Like the old school balsam fir with white lights and and cranberry garland. Or the identity crisis tree that is spazzed out in a thousand different colors and bulb sizes and blinks in some seizure inducing pattern with garland suffocating every ounce of green. Or the crazy cat lady tree, donned only in lights and every breed of cat known to man, even Garfield. I love it, the assessing and the assuming and the story telling that is induced by the visual wonder... I say to myself, leaning forward over the steering wheel, peering,what is going on in that house???

Well what I hope is going on, is a lot of freaking celebrating. And my vote, (yes Mary yes) is that celebratory giddiness is always better and hotter in the glow of twinkly lights. Lets face it, twinkly Xmas tree lighting is very forgiving to dark circles and crows feet. So yeah tree it up friends.

I do LOVE Christmas.

And for the record my tree is fake as shit sparkly white and disco.

Ha, don't you wonder what the hell is going on in my house now??

Isn't it Ironic???

Thanks to those who were interested enough in what I had to say to actually read my first blog. I am returning after the most surreal, epically ironic day of my entire life. This day has been loaded and I am beat. Thing is this, I can't progress further on those details without this history lesson first. I am going to be brutally honest here, and I just feel the need to start as cleanly as possible. So here we go back a bit... Thing is this, I am the most broken woman you know. If you know me, you know this is true and I wear it on my sleeve, right out in the open. If you know me, you also know that this fashion choice, the heart on the sleeve variety, makes most people extremely uncomfortable. In fact, it causes a lot of undue ugliness that really has not a single thing to do me (ohh I digress in a rant) At any rate, I have been a mess most of my life, some of you old school homies can attest, for those of you in the dark, here is light shed. A mess....When I say mess, I do not mean like a heroin addict or a child abuser yada yada, I mean mess like Jason Mraz says, a beautiful mess. A tragic love story. A bad comedy. Which ever you prefer. It is not as pretty as that song and yet, it is exactly that pretty. For reasons too varied, I grew up believing that I was a total piece of worthless shit. I believed I was dumb, useless, fat and ugly. The worst for me was the dumb and useless. For many years following my fucked up childhood I abused myself in ways that would secure what was quickly becoming a comfortable numbness. I picked bad men who cheated and lied and told me I was dumb, useless, fat and ugly, go figure huh? This quick re-cap does the pain no justice but today isn't just about me so I want to get back around to the day. Geesh sorry. Okay and so, I gave up on my life and said FUCK IT, mess be made. Until recently when I began to love myself and kick the world's ass little by little.... Today - today began with the heart break of the beef stew and missing my Papa. I decided to finally set up a blogspot (it is huge that I am confident enough to do this) and felt a real sense of depressed, surreal accomplishment. My BF Mary called and I excitedly reported that I had done it, finally managed by the grace of God, to correctly type enough damn security codes to progress to the next page and in the end SET UP my OWN BLOG (a year ago I would have thrown the computer clear across the room)...I read it to her, she teared up, the ending is sad about growing up and losing the ones you love from youth... She asks me "Slutly you check your email about the writing contest yet today?" I log on and check,  though not anticipating one. Back story: wrote essay last year for school contest. Honorable mention award and got it published, (my first ever submitted piece of me, in college that I was terrified I would fail at) This year I told the head of the English dept. "I don't want to place in the contest, I want to WIN." To get that win, I wrote about my love from adolescence Omar and the impact he and his death had on my life... I check the email and it says, "Dear Deborah we would like to inform you that you have one first place......." I cried so hard and sudden,  I literally peed a little. This was one of the best moments in my life. For a few reasons. One, finally proof that power exists in believing that you can. Setting forth with clear intention is key to arriving right in the center of the bulls eye. BAM. I did it. Two, the material was huge for me, HUGE. His death changed my life and he has watched as I have pulled myself up and righted the gait and posture of self worth. He is my champion from way back, even in death. I have missed his mouth every day of my life, badly. Three, I did it for me and him and his dear sweet mother Borjana. I wanted her to know that his life meant something. Not just that it meant something but that the loss of it was so devastating it changed the course of mine. Although I had the essay done and debated sending it to her over Thanksgiving, I REALLY wanted to win first place and invite her down to the ceremony where I will read the piece and receive my award. I was hoping that I would be able to see her here and feel her arms around me. And so, after I changed pants I logged onto facebook to wall post my pee worthy good news. I see the letters RIP on her facebook page and am immediately tingly all over and feeling short of breath. Just then, literally simultaneously, a message pops up from my old friend and rival sex pot Sherri McGuinness, she is asking, "What's wrong with Borjana???" Moments later it is confirmed that she had died, never woke up from her slumber. I am reeling right now....Just reeling. Here's that thing, I am glad she is with him now, she suffered long enough with devastating pain, they are together after all these years apart. How can a Mother ever recover from the loss of a child? I just can't contemplate that, even conceptually, without immediate hyper ventilation and borderline hysteria. A pain I pray everyday I somehow escape. I am glad in the same way I was with my Papa, relieved. I am sad for me and for everyone who loved her, especially Steve who loved her for so long and through the hardest parts...I am devastated but more  freaked out by what it means that that it is. This whole day has been a circular motion towards Irony and the greater, hidden, unspoken rules of it's lessons...Irony always means something so profound is occurring. For me, in my personal scope, this is where I am with this day... There is a plan of some kind and we are all so interconnected. Life comes full circle always. I was held down by myself most of all. I got brave (thanks to my M&M muses) and began to fight for my own life and believe that it was worth something. Omar always knew that it was and so did his beautiful Mother. I found him often in the dawn of my loneliest days, suddenly the sky would light on fire and a blaze of orange would turn my landscape into the image of my own heart. I would feel him push me along, a kiss on the neck in the breeze sometimes, with the window down and Journey playing....a loving push for twenty one years. Today, is the first day I do not need to be pushed anymore.... The irony. Today I personally have come full circle. What I felt when I first woke up this morning, a pervasive sadness, somehow my old me is moving on. AND I made the stew, wrote the first blog, won the damn contest and she died before I could tell her. Why? Because I don't need to, their work is complete and with that they go. To everyone else, it is something different. In my world it is three people got wings today. The three people who needed them most. As I sit in puffy eyed irony, feeling as though the core of life's meaning cracked open wide for me today I am more grateful than earlier. I am BROKENHEARTED and WHOLEHEARTED for the time ever....My whole new healthy heart is really sad at more loss from the passage of time. Death is always there, it could be any day. Love Love Love. Do good with your love, don't be selfish. give it freely, be confident that it is the only right thing you can ever really do right. LOVE. Crying again...Ugh. Omar and his Mom loved me and their love made all the difference. Make a difference today, right now. Make a difference. It matters more than anything.

P.S. I should mention that the picture above is an Einstein that Omar did in pencil, my most prized possession and the picture earlier from the stew blog, is of my Nana's last violet and my Papa's bottle of Irish Mist that he got on the plane when we flew to Ireland in 1980.

Where's the Beef Stew?

Welcome !
My very first blog. I have wasted most of my day, stuck in a mood that won't let me go. All week long my family has been hounding me to make my famous beef stew. The gynormous package of stew beef has been glaring at me every time I open the fridge for days now... It is really a staple winter dish in our family and has been for generations, we are Irish and good stew know how is a must. My stew is a spin off my Nana's and I believe it comes from my Papa's mother who lived in County Cork. Anyways, I woke up this morning knowing that I must use the beef today or I would end up throwing it out. I dragged my ass into the kitchen, made myself coffee and stood staring at the package, cutting board and knife. I began to cry. Here is the thing about the stew....It was my Papa's favorite and I used to make it for him and bring it to him at the nursing home all the time. It was one of the few times he would actually eat vigorously. Today, would be the first time that I would prepare it since his passing. I know that it has been since April and I also know that it was soooo time for him to stop suffering, BUT my heart is heavy for him just the same. I avoided the stew so that I could avoid the tears that would fall, adding extra salt to the broth. Sigh. I did the only thing I could do, I got the IPOD, put on some Damien Rice and began to slice onions without rinsing my knife in cold water first. The enzymes and the grief accompanied  the misery of Damien's laments nicely. I made the stew.... Tonight we will gather and my brood will ladle piping stew into deep bowls and dip crusty bread repeatedly sopping up the history of love that exists. I know three things for sure.

1. My family will come round the table eagerly and bellies will be warm and full.
2. My Nana would be thrilled to know that I carry on the tradition of comfort food.
3. I will think of my Papa with every bite.

This is the hard part of getting old. Not the wrinkles or the sagging or the new belly fat (gross btw) it is this element that I am experiencing today that sucks the most. As you age, the people who represent comfort from your youth inevitably pass on and leave your world. It's really hard. Really really hard. And coupled with that sucky realization, one day it will be me....With each passing day, the days of my life walk me closer to the gate.
So I make the stew and cry a little and am grateful that I cry hysterically over stew. It is confirmation that I am living real and I am fortunate to know, that this is the point of life. Live real even when real sucks. So Simple, and yet we struggle as humans to get this right.
I wish you all, all the love from my heart and stew.