I dislike people who are mean.
While I always want to give people the benefit of the doubt and believe in the good in all people, it is difficult for me to overlook when someone is mean. And it affects me. (This may be why I hate politics so much.)
The thing is, I guess I just don't understand why it is necessary to be mean. Thinking back to being a child, I can remember moments when I wasn't nice (and believe me, as a "people pleaser," I wanted desperately to be liked, so meanness for me was usually about my own ignorance), and to this day wish there are certain things I could take back. But I guess that's how we learn, and there are those lessons that are burned deep within because of those regrets.
Kids are mean. I wish most of it was about ignorance, but I suspect it's not. Kids know at an early age how to hurt people as a way to get revenge, a method to get what they want, or as a way to derive pleasure from watching other people hurt. They grow up into adults with the same ignorance, and pathetic desire to see others humiliated, then take pleasure in it (I don't know Omarosa personally, but her name springs to mind).
"Mean people suck." I don't remember where I heard that. I think it may have been a song title or a lyric by Bill Russell, founding member (I think) of the Forbidden Pigs. This was many, many, many years ago (early to mid-eighties). But I agree with the sentiment, these many years later. Bill, hats off to you and your perceptive platitude!
Mean Girls. Never saw it. I don't derive pleasure from watching people be mean. That's why I don't watch most reality shows - just a bunch of people wanting attention, and being mean as a way to stand out in spite of the mediocrity of their existance. Movies and sitcoms with characters who are mean are not entertaining to me, and I can't tolerate them. I know Seinfeld was a huge hit, but George Costanza was just clueless about how mean he was, and I never found that funny.
Lots of practical jokes are just plain mean. I can't tolerate those, either. I have to send my eternal gratitude and respect to Jim Womack, a friend and former colleague. He is a consumate practical joker, and when I began working in his office, I mentioned to him that I don't respond well to practical jokes, I am often just hurt by them. He never once targeted me. He's not a mean guy.
I suppose my own ignorance and insensitivity at times has come across as mean, and hurt other people. For that, I am eternally sorry. Even as an adult now, I'm sure there are times when I come across as a Mean Girl. In fact, I can think of several specific examples over which I could be accused of being mean. A stupid joke, a statement that sounded "funny" out loud but later hurt someone's feelings. Phylicia was gracious to accept my apology, but it didn't erase whatever hurt she may have felt at the time. And althought she forgave me (if I remember correctly), I still have guilt over it, these many years later. I wish it could be possible to be perfect. I would never want to hurt anyone. I would never want to be mean and have someone hate me for it. I would never want to be seen as insensitive. I can't imagine that I would ever derive pleasure from someone else's pain. And yet, I'm as guilty as anyone.
That's what forgiveness is for. I've been on the receiving end of that, many a time. It is a powerful thing, and I've been overwhelmed emotionally as a result. I must follow the example of those who have forgiven me, and open myself up to forgive others. I can think of two people in particular - the hurt is dulled or gone, the emotional ties no longer exist, but I'm not sure I've actually "forgiven." A request for forgiveness is not necessary in order to forgive, although for me, it makes it much easier to let go of the hurt. My first Love apologized for any hurt he caused me, and suddenly the wound was healed, and forgiveness was easy.
Forgiveness when it is not so easy - that is a true test of one's character. I suppose I need to make sure to work on that.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
How Do I Love Thee. . .
With all the challenges I have to face in my life, there is one thing that is never an issue: my husband's love for me. It gives me strength, holds me up when I feel overwhelmed, touches me at random moments, provides security when all else seems so unstable.
How doest thou love me?
I see it in your eyes when you look at me - a singular deep stare that tells me I still infatuate you, encompass you, entice you.
You touch me, every time you walk past me.
A hug for no reason, a kiss just because.
Knowing that my most insecure moments revolve around the unknown, you share everything with me, giving me information so I won't be afraid.
You trust me with your inappropriate jokes, knowing that I know you so well as to never doubt your true meaning.
You trust me with you inner most feelings, exposing yourself to me in a way many men are unwilling to allow themselves to do.
Playing on our "inside jokes," you give me laughter every day.
You see that beautiful, svelt, 130 lb. me, regardless of what I weigh.
You get me, see my humor, laugh genuinely at my silliness.
Your love for my children is first, always.
You give my life such joy, I'm thankful every day that we found each other.
I love you, Tommy T.
How doest thou love me?
I see it in your eyes when you look at me - a singular deep stare that tells me I still infatuate you, encompass you, entice you.
You touch me, every time you walk past me.
A hug for no reason, a kiss just because.
Knowing that my most insecure moments revolve around the unknown, you share everything with me, giving me information so I won't be afraid.
You trust me with your inappropriate jokes, knowing that I know you so well as to never doubt your true meaning.
You trust me with you inner most feelings, exposing yourself to me in a way many men are unwilling to allow themselves to do.
Playing on our "inside jokes," you give me laughter every day.
You see that beautiful, svelt, 130 lb. me, regardless of what I weigh.
You get me, see my humor, laugh genuinely at my silliness.
Your love for my children is first, always.
You give my life such joy, I'm thankful every day that we found each other.
I love you, Tommy T.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Deep, Dark Secrets - Shhhh. . .
Dear Friends: I share this with you because I love to be silly and I have a sick and twisted need to let you all in on my darkest secrets. If you are faint of heart, or would lose your respect for me to read TMI, STOP NOW, or forever hold your peace.
Love to all, Kathy
The Deep, Dark Secrets of Kathleen Marie Tortoreo:
1. What are you most afraid of? Smelly, poopy things. Hairy, smelly, poopy things. Big, hairy, smelly, poopy things. Big, hairy, smelly, poopy things that move of their own accord toward me with bad intentions and malice in their eyes - or eye, depending on their planet of origin.
2. What is the most recent movie that you have seen in a Theater? In a theater. . . Hmmm. You mean that big, dark place where I used to make out with my boyfriend before he became my husband, got me pregnant, and became so busy with the "parenting-thing" that we don't have time to go to a theater anymore? That theater?
3. Where were you born? San Diego, California
4. What is your favorite food? Italian. Same answer for "Favorite Men"
5. Have you ever been to Alaska? Ah, yes. When I was young and in my "goin' to the club" days. The female to male ratio was 1:10, so I had lots and lots and lots and LOTS of fun. I never "did" the football team, but the fishermen sure knew how to handle a woman. You just have to get past the smell.
6. Have you ever been toilet paper rolling? What? Is that pre- or post-usage?
7. Have you ever loved someone so much it made you cry? Yes, and I am a better person for it.
8. Have you ever been in a car accident? No, unfortunately I can't blame my problems on a severe head injury.
9. Do you prefer croutons or bacon bits? Bacon, baby!
10. What is your favorite day of the week? Sunday, . . . I don't know why.
11. What is your favorite restaurant? Italian. Same answer for "Favorite Men."
12. What is your favorite flower? Roses from my lover.
13. What is your favorite sport to watch? Naked Bodybuilding. Hard to find, even on cable.
14. What is your favorite drink? Chocolate Milk Shake
15. What is your favorite ice cream? Mint Chocolate Chip, never changed since I was a kid
16. Disney or Warner Brothers? Disney
17. Have you ever been on a ship? U.S.S. KittyHawk Aircraft Carrier, where I was first introduced to Naked Bodybuilding.
18. What color is your bedroom carpet? I can't remember, can't see through my husband's piles of dirty clothes.
19. What's under your bed? Electronic audio equipment, attached to seven strategically placed video cameras in the bedroom, which are reviewed and edited at a later date, then posted onto our website "MarriedButWeStillDoTheNasty.Com."
20. How many times did you fail your driver's test? I was supposed to take a test?
21. What do you do when you are bored? Pick my nose, but if you ever tell anyone, I'll deny it.
22. What is your bedtime? About 7 minutes after my 4 year old son's bedtime (That includes husband/wife conversation and any possible sex, which makes for expedient and efficient viewing on the "MarriedButWeStillDoTheNasty.Com" website).
23. What is your favorite TV show? Friends, Star Trek: Voyager, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Ace of Cakes, The Office (Just a bit of the single-sci-fi-nerd left in me.)
24. Who is the last person you went to dinner with? Hubby. I have no other friends.
25. Who is your greatest love? TomTomTomTomTomTomTomTomTomTom, . . . okay maybe the kids a little bit.
26. What are your favorite colors? Purple - it signifies royalty, which has absolutely nothing to do with me - I just like to put myself and royalty in the same sentence.
27. How many tattoos do you have? Seventeen: I have two breasts drawn on my back, an arrow pointing to my rectum with the word "hole", my name tattooed on both feet in case I can't be identified by dental records, the lyrics to Vanilla Ice's "Ice, Ice, Baby" on my left butt cheek, eight letters across my fingers spelling "buttface," an unnamed Alaskan fishing boat on my left shoulder blade to commemorate my sexual glory days, Dwayne Johnson / "The Rock" (post-wrestling) from his naked torso up on my belly, and, last but not least, a delicate script just below my C-section scar that reads "No one under 21 admitted."
28. How many pets do you have? Five: Birdie the Dalmatian, husband Tom, daughter Kelsey, daughter Cassandra and son Marcello.
29. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Thanks for the headache!
30. What do you want to do before you die? Travel to distant lands, learn to scuba dive, write a best selling novel (no joke), run a marathon (oh, wait, I did that already) and . . .
31. Have you ever been to Hawaii? No, my car is acting up, I'm afraid that long drive would kill it for good.
32. Have you been to countries outside the U.S.? Yes - only the Dominican Republic, on my first honeymoon, during which my then-husband told me that getting married was the biggest mistake he'd ever made. I've been afraid to leave the country ever since.
33. What would you like inscribed on your grave's headstone? "Engaged in silliness often, and was deeply loved for it."
Love to all, Kathy
The Deep, Dark Secrets of Kathleen Marie Tortoreo:
1. What are you most afraid of? Smelly, poopy things. Hairy, smelly, poopy things. Big, hairy, smelly, poopy things. Big, hairy, smelly, poopy things that move of their own accord toward me with bad intentions and malice in their eyes - or eye, depending on their planet of origin.
2. What is the most recent movie that you have seen in a Theater? In a theater. . . Hmmm. You mean that big, dark place where I used to make out with my boyfriend before he became my husband, got me pregnant, and became so busy with the "parenting-thing" that we don't have time to go to a theater anymore? That theater?
3. Where were you born? San Diego, California
4. What is your favorite food? Italian. Same answer for "Favorite Men"
5. Have you ever been to Alaska? Ah, yes. When I was young and in my "goin' to the club" days. The female to male ratio was 1:10, so I had lots and lots and lots and LOTS of fun. I never "did" the football team, but the fishermen sure knew how to handle a woman. You just have to get past the smell.
6. Have you ever been toilet paper rolling? What? Is that pre- or post-usage?
7. Have you ever loved someone so much it made you cry? Yes, and I am a better person for it.
8. Have you ever been in a car accident? No, unfortunately I can't blame my problems on a severe head injury.
9. Do you prefer croutons or bacon bits? Bacon, baby!
10. What is your favorite day of the week? Sunday, . . . I don't know why.
11. What is your favorite restaurant? Italian. Same answer for "Favorite Men."
12. What is your favorite flower? Roses from my lover.
13. What is your favorite sport to watch? Naked Bodybuilding. Hard to find, even on cable.
14. What is your favorite drink? Chocolate Milk Shake
15. What is your favorite ice cream? Mint Chocolate Chip, never changed since I was a kid
16. Disney or Warner Brothers? Disney
17. Have you ever been on a ship? U.S.S. KittyHawk Aircraft Carrier, where I was first introduced to Naked Bodybuilding.
18. What color is your bedroom carpet? I can't remember, can't see through my husband's piles of dirty clothes.
19. What's under your bed? Electronic audio equipment, attached to seven strategically placed video cameras in the bedroom, which are reviewed and edited at a later date, then posted onto our website "MarriedButWeStillDoTheNasty.Com."
20. How many times did you fail your driver's test? I was supposed to take a test?
21. What do you do when you are bored? Pick my nose, but if you ever tell anyone, I'll deny it.
22. What is your bedtime? About 7 minutes after my 4 year old son's bedtime (That includes husband/wife conversation and any possible sex, which makes for expedient and efficient viewing on the "MarriedButWeStillDoTheNasty.Com" website).
23. What is your favorite TV show? Friends, Star Trek: Voyager, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Ace of Cakes, The Office (Just a bit of the single-sci-fi-nerd left in me.)
24. Who is the last person you went to dinner with? Hubby. I have no other friends.
25. Who is your greatest love? TomTomTomTomTomTomTomTomTomTom, . . . okay maybe the kids a little bit.
26. What are your favorite colors? Purple - it signifies royalty, which has absolutely nothing to do with me - I just like to put myself and royalty in the same sentence.
27. How many tattoos do you have? Seventeen: I have two breasts drawn on my back, an arrow pointing to my rectum with the word "hole", my name tattooed on both feet in case I can't be identified by dental records, the lyrics to Vanilla Ice's "Ice, Ice, Baby" on my left butt cheek, eight letters across my fingers spelling "buttface," an unnamed Alaskan fishing boat on my left shoulder blade to commemorate my sexual glory days, Dwayne Johnson / "The Rock" (post-wrestling) from his naked torso up on my belly, and, last but not least, a delicate script just below my C-section scar that reads "No one under 21 admitted."
28. How many pets do you have? Five: Birdie the Dalmatian, husband Tom, daughter Kelsey, daughter Cassandra and son Marcello.
29. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Thanks for the headache!
30. What do you want to do before you die? Travel to distant lands, learn to scuba dive, write a best selling novel (no joke), run a marathon (oh, wait, I did that already) and . . .
31. Have you ever been to Hawaii? No, my car is acting up, I'm afraid that long drive would kill it for good.
32. Have you been to countries outside the U.S.? Yes - only the Dominican Republic, on my first honeymoon, during which my then-husband told me that getting married was the biggest mistake he'd ever made. I've been afraid to leave the country ever since.
33. What would you like inscribed on your grave's headstone? "Engaged in silliness often, and was deeply loved for it."
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
JOB HUNTING SUCKS
I dislike change, although I've come to accept it as part of the life cycle. New and interesting things generally pop up, and they can be fun to address, and certainly amusing "dinner table stories" for a later date.
Changing jobs is another story. Especially in today's economy, it can be hard to manage the fear of never getting hired. Fear . . . nervousness . . . TERROR . . . whatever.
Job hunting sucks. For those of you desperately sucking hard right now, here are a few issues to consider:
Resume: Definitely get one of those.
References: Remember, little "financial incentives" may be a plus.
Networking: By all means, be sure to let everyone know how desperate you are - surely at some point, a true friend will have pity and go the extra half-mile for you.
Honesty on your Application: How seriously "checkered" is your past?
Internet Resume Submission / No Initial Face-to-Face Application: According to recent studies, how ethnic-sounding or gender-neutral your name is can have a significant impact. Turns out, Jamie Fox is a GENIUS!
Nepotism: Use it if you can get it!
Should you score that elusive job interview, please be mindful of the following:
* Put on clean underwear!
* Deodorant. . .
* Smile and make nice with the other children. . .
* Do not fart (the silent ones especially).
* As you feel the "nervous sweat" drip down your skin between your breasts, do not allow the resulting tickle to distract you from the interviewer's questions.
* The tickle at the end of your nose is more than likely a speck of dust or an eyelash gone astray, but do yourself a favor and engage in a little "scratch and rub" just in case.
* Eat lunch after the interview, especially if you have a penchant for spinach salads, or breads with dark seeds (stay away from poppy-seeded-anything, as this may affect your random drug test results should you be lucky enough to get hired).
* Halitosis Prevention Month is EVERY MONTH.
* If sandals are in season, for the love of Pete, make your toenails presentable.
* If the weather is cold, NEVER WHITE SOCKS - NEVER. Do I really need to emphasize this?
And, finally,
* Ladies - Deodorant feminine hygiene products. Strangely, this is not a given for some people.
I wish myself, as well as all of you, every good thought and prayer in your quest for gainful employment and satisfaction in your work endeavors.
Live Long and Prosper!!
Changing jobs is another story. Especially in today's economy, it can be hard to manage the fear of never getting hired. Fear . . . nervousness . . . TERROR . . . whatever.
Job hunting sucks. For those of you desperately sucking hard right now, here are a few issues to consider:
Resume: Definitely get one of those.
References: Remember, little "financial incentives" may be a plus.
Networking: By all means, be sure to let everyone know how desperate you are - surely at some point, a true friend will have pity and go the extra half-mile for you.
Honesty on your Application: How seriously "checkered" is your past?
Internet Resume Submission / No Initial Face-to-Face Application: According to recent studies, how ethnic-sounding or gender-neutral your name is can have a significant impact. Turns out, Jamie Fox is a GENIUS!
Nepotism: Use it if you can get it!
Should you score that elusive job interview, please be mindful of the following:
* Put on clean underwear!
* Deodorant. . .
* Smile and make nice with the other children. . .
* Do not fart (the silent ones especially).
* As you feel the "nervous sweat" drip down your skin between your breasts, do not allow the resulting tickle to distract you from the interviewer's questions.
* The tickle at the end of your nose is more than likely a speck of dust or an eyelash gone astray, but do yourself a favor and engage in a little "scratch and rub" just in case.
* Eat lunch after the interview, especially if you have a penchant for spinach salads, or breads with dark seeds (stay away from poppy-seeded-anything, as this may affect your random drug test results should you be lucky enough to get hired).
* Halitosis Prevention Month is EVERY MONTH.
* If sandals are in season, for the love of Pete, make your toenails presentable.
* If the weather is cold, NEVER WHITE SOCKS - NEVER. Do I really need to emphasize this?
And, finally,
* Ladies - Deodorant feminine hygiene products. Strangely, this is not a given for some people.
I wish myself, as well as all of you, every good thought and prayer in your quest for gainful employment and satisfaction in your work endeavors.
Live Long and Prosper!!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Amarillo's Where I'll Be
As many of you know, the Tortoreo's - Coconut Creek Division - recently relocated to Amarillo, Texas. Some may consider this a step backward (we only moved away four years ago), but I suppose it really just depends on individual priorities.
There are reasons to dislike Amarillo (there are reasons to dislike any locale, frankly), but I choose not to address / focus on / think about these, because my happiness really only relies on my decision to be happy. And I choose to be happy.
* My parents are here, and we're close. They are ecstatic that two of their grandchildren will be close by, and Marcello has already begun bonding. Cassandra, in Tallahassee for the summer, will get her chance when she gets here. (Kelsey, we miss you terribly!)
* I met and married my husband here, so there are many good memories, many places that touch me because of him. First lunch date - Johnny Carino's Italian Restaurant, where he fell madly in love with me. The little Baptist church outside of the city limits where we married in a small ceremony, with only my parents, the girls, and the two photographers in attendance. No reception, just a quick dinner in our wedding garb at Olive Garden. We were a little afraid our heads would explode, as we are both Catholic, but the little Baptist church served us well.
* I became a mom to two beautiful girls here. Ages 12 and 8 when we married, they were funny and silly, and happy, and so very clever. They immediately fit into my Holdgrafer Family, and my parents just fell in love with them, too.
* My son was born here. You can read his story on Baby Home Pages, "The Miracle of Marcello." He aspirated on meconium, and his delivery began a 19 day oddessy in the NICU of the hospital, and an emotional roller coaster that is still quite clear in my memory. He had a rough start, but I just always knew he would be okay. He had been "promised" to me, so I wasn't worried (Kristi knows what I'm talking about!!).
So the decision to move back was not the difficult part of our most recent story. I suppose the most difficult part is putting into perspective a human piece of ourselves and trying not to see this as a "failure." It just is what it is. I loved South Florida, and would definitely consider moving back, should the opportunity present itself.
What do I miss already?
* The Cove Restaurant, in Deerfield Beach, just off Hillsboro on the intercoastal. Great food, lovely ambiance, and great food. Never had a bad meal there.
* Anne's Beach in Islamorada, in the Keys, not quite halfway to Key West. Tom talked about driving to the Keys shortly after moving to Florida, describing the vast beaches, open space, and his plan to drive the car onto the sand and just hang out all day there. He was born in South Florida and spent time in the Keys as a kid. We drove down through the Keys, and saw NO public beaches. We drove for at least an hour, and finally stopped at a convenience store to - YES - ask for directions. The cashier directed us to Anne's Beach, a little public beach with about 12 parking spaces and dock-like picnic areas on the beach surrounded by trees and plant life. Fun day, interesting area. I was breast feeding six-month-old Marcello at the time, so the privacy was appreciated. We had a great time, and still tease Tom about assuming that 40 years later, the beaches wouldn't have changed a bit.
* We only ventured to Miami Beach twice, to do a little sight-seeing and soak up the atmosphere. Such a charming area, with all the sidewalk restaurants and hotels, stylistically throw-backs to an era of art-deco. We oogled at Madonna's Hotel, the Delano, and other pricy attractions, and drove by looking at all the beautiful people. It's quite the show down there.
* We lived in Coconut Creek, and on Sundays I'd get up early to try to beat the heat, and Rollerblade until I was exhausted - I had a specific 17 mile trip I used to take. One day (okay, it happened a few times) I was unable to beat the heat, and had to call Tom to pick me up. I took the Blades off and sat on the sidewalk, and a Parkland Police Officer asked me if I was alright. I NEVER dressed to look as if I could afford to live in Parkland, but I like to think the officer was just being concerned for my health, not concerned I was casing the joint.
* Pizza Time Restaurant, an amazing Italian food place. Tom always raved about the lobster pizza, but I don't know if he ever had any during our four year stay. The food was wonderful - the Chicken Franchaise just melts in your mouth, and was the only thing I could ever bring myself to order.
So our move commenced on Saturday, June 6th, the first day of a three day drive from South Florida to Amarillo. We stopped the first night in Tallahassee, and were greeted by Tom's sister, Debbie and the scent of lasagne and chicken pasta alfredo. She snuck in a Key Lime Pie also. Debbie is the consumate hostess, always concerned with feeding you and making sure you are comfortable. She should own a Bed and Breakfast!!
Sunday, we traveled 700+ miles to Shreveport, LA, only to be greeted in the last two miles by a brake problem on the front passenger tire. We stayed with a good friend, Joseph, who we hadn't seen in maybe over five years. So the visit was unfortunately short, but very nice. Monday morning, three hours behind schedule and $68.00 later to replace a brake bolt that mysteriously disappeared, we were back on the road, headed for Texas. We arrived in Amarillo about 8:30 p.m., tired, but glad to be finished with the driving.
All day Tuesday, we unloaded our possessions into a storage facility, and cleaned up the mess we made at mom and dad's house. They're hosting our stay until we get jobs (pronounced "money"), and we hope to do our best not to wear out our welcome. Having Marcello charm them will go a long way to preventing them from getting sick of us.
So here we are. Happy, with family, and no worse for the wear.
Come for a visit soon. We'd love to see ya'll. (Nooooo, I did not just say "ya'll"!!)
There are reasons to dislike Amarillo (there are reasons to dislike any locale, frankly), but I choose not to address / focus on / think about these, because my happiness really only relies on my decision to be happy. And I choose to be happy.
* My parents are here, and we're close. They are ecstatic that two of their grandchildren will be close by, and Marcello has already begun bonding. Cassandra, in Tallahassee for the summer, will get her chance when she gets here. (Kelsey, we miss you terribly!)
* I met and married my husband here, so there are many good memories, many places that touch me because of him. First lunch date - Johnny Carino's Italian Restaurant, where he fell madly in love with me. The little Baptist church outside of the city limits where we married in a small ceremony, with only my parents, the girls, and the two photographers in attendance. No reception, just a quick dinner in our wedding garb at Olive Garden. We were a little afraid our heads would explode, as we are both Catholic, but the little Baptist church served us well.
* I became a mom to two beautiful girls here. Ages 12 and 8 when we married, they were funny and silly, and happy, and so very clever. They immediately fit into my Holdgrafer Family, and my parents just fell in love with them, too.
* My son was born here. You can read his story on Baby Home Pages, "The Miracle of Marcello." He aspirated on meconium, and his delivery began a 19 day oddessy in the NICU of the hospital, and an emotional roller coaster that is still quite clear in my memory. He had a rough start, but I just always knew he would be okay. He had been "promised" to me, so I wasn't worried (Kristi knows what I'm talking about!!).
So the decision to move back was not the difficult part of our most recent story. I suppose the most difficult part is putting into perspective a human piece of ourselves and trying not to see this as a "failure." It just is what it is. I loved South Florida, and would definitely consider moving back, should the opportunity present itself.
What do I miss already?
* The Cove Restaurant, in Deerfield Beach, just off Hillsboro on the intercoastal. Great food, lovely ambiance, and great food. Never had a bad meal there.
* Anne's Beach in Islamorada, in the Keys, not quite halfway to Key West. Tom talked about driving to the Keys shortly after moving to Florida, describing the vast beaches, open space, and his plan to drive the car onto the sand and just hang out all day there. He was born in South Florida and spent time in the Keys as a kid. We drove down through the Keys, and saw NO public beaches. We drove for at least an hour, and finally stopped at a convenience store to - YES - ask for directions. The cashier directed us to Anne's Beach, a little public beach with about 12 parking spaces and dock-like picnic areas on the beach surrounded by trees and plant life. Fun day, interesting area. I was breast feeding six-month-old Marcello at the time, so the privacy was appreciated. We had a great time, and still tease Tom about assuming that 40 years later, the beaches wouldn't have changed a bit.
* We only ventured to Miami Beach twice, to do a little sight-seeing and soak up the atmosphere. Such a charming area, with all the sidewalk restaurants and hotels, stylistically throw-backs to an era of art-deco. We oogled at Madonna's Hotel, the Delano, and other pricy attractions, and drove by looking at all the beautiful people. It's quite the show down there.
* We lived in Coconut Creek, and on Sundays I'd get up early to try to beat the heat, and Rollerblade until I was exhausted - I had a specific 17 mile trip I used to take. One day (okay, it happened a few times) I was unable to beat the heat, and had to call Tom to pick me up. I took the Blades off and sat on the sidewalk, and a Parkland Police Officer asked me if I was alright. I NEVER dressed to look as if I could afford to live in Parkland, but I like to think the officer was just being concerned for my health, not concerned I was casing the joint.
* Pizza Time Restaurant, an amazing Italian food place. Tom always raved about the lobster pizza, but I don't know if he ever had any during our four year stay. The food was wonderful - the Chicken Franchaise just melts in your mouth, and was the only thing I could ever bring myself to order.
So our move commenced on Saturday, June 6th, the first day of a three day drive from South Florida to Amarillo. We stopped the first night in Tallahassee, and were greeted by Tom's sister, Debbie and the scent of lasagne and chicken pasta alfredo. She snuck in a Key Lime Pie also. Debbie is the consumate hostess, always concerned with feeding you and making sure you are comfortable. She should own a Bed and Breakfast!!
Sunday, we traveled 700+ miles to Shreveport, LA, only to be greeted in the last two miles by a brake problem on the front passenger tire. We stayed with a good friend, Joseph, who we hadn't seen in maybe over five years. So the visit was unfortunately short, but very nice. Monday morning, three hours behind schedule and $68.00 later to replace a brake bolt that mysteriously disappeared, we were back on the road, headed for Texas. We arrived in Amarillo about 8:30 p.m., tired, but glad to be finished with the driving.
All day Tuesday, we unloaded our possessions into a storage facility, and cleaned up the mess we made at mom and dad's house. They're hosting our stay until we get jobs (pronounced "money"), and we hope to do our best not to wear out our welcome. Having Marcello charm them will go a long way to preventing them from getting sick of us.
So here we are. Happy, with family, and no worse for the wear.
Come for a visit soon. We'd love to see ya'll. (Nooooo, I did not just say "ya'll"!!)
Monday, June 1, 2009
My Typical (Genius) Four Year Old
I'm sure every parent is filled with pride when speaking of his or her child. And while gushing without end is a mindless inconsideration in which some people can't help but engage, I'll do my best to keep my ramblin' to a tolerable level. (Alternately, you are visiting my blog, so if I am a-ramblin'-ramblin', feel free to log-off. I wouldn't want friends and family regretting the loss of precious minutes in their lives!) :-)
So today, as Tom is moving some furniture downstairs and organizing our "moving truck staging area," while carrying a bookshelf, he steps in a wet spot on the carpet. Watching his balance and aim with the heavy piece of furniture, he absently asks Marcello, "You alright, son?" to which Marcello responds, "Uh, yes." We know four year olds spill things, so Tom makes a mental note to clean up whatever little wet mess has been left on the floor. He returns to what is later determined to be the scene of the crime, to find out what, exactly, is the nature of the little wet mess:
Marcello stands over a little plastic wagon (usually the container for his big Lego-type blocks) with a large plastic cooking spoon, stirring. He has poured the better part of an entire gallon of milk into the wagon (capacity roughly two gallons), along with the remainder of a package of shredded cheese and some yogurt, and informs his daddy that he has made some soup. The wagon bucket has a little latch on the bottom (so a child with his BLOCKS can tip the bucket back to dump his load), so there is a little hole right at the bottom of the bucket. Through which leaks the milk. Into a little wet mess on the floor. Positioned strategically for daddy to step in. Ahh, youth.
Last week, Marcello informed Tom and I that he is "allergic to chicken noodle soup." As my son is not allergic to anything so that word isn't used in my home often, my best estimate is that he learned the word "allergic" from a SpongeBob SquarePants episode. My four year old, the genius.
Speaking of sponges, did you know that children are sponges when it comes to hearing, learning and repeating everything!? Tom and I both had a time in our lives when we watched Beavis and Butthead. Three months ago, Tom (yes, my love, I unequivocally blame you for this) began referring to Marcello's BUNGHOLE. We never explained what a bunghole is, never discussed the issue in detail. Never used "bunghole," "butt" or "butthole" in the same sentence. However, Marcello has correctly deduced what a bunghole is. We'll ask him simple, serious questions like "Where is your train?" or "Have you seen daddy's other shoe?" and Marcello now replies, "It's in my Bunghole!" And then he laughs - Oh, he knows it's funny. He even has a Bunghole Dance. He bends over, touches his toes, and wiggles his butt. It's a little disturbing when he does it naked.
Genius. . . Typical. . . An Absolute Doll!
How about:
When he just comes up to his mommy, and says, "I love you, Mommy" without provocation?
or,
when he kisses my forehead when he knows I have a headache?
or,
when he says "Sorry, Daddy, for making soup on the floor?"
My precious boy.
So today, as Tom is moving some furniture downstairs and organizing our "moving truck staging area," while carrying a bookshelf, he steps in a wet spot on the carpet. Watching his balance and aim with the heavy piece of furniture, he absently asks Marcello, "You alright, son?" to which Marcello responds, "Uh, yes." We know four year olds spill things, so Tom makes a mental note to clean up whatever little wet mess has been left on the floor. He returns to what is later determined to be the scene of the crime, to find out what, exactly, is the nature of the little wet mess:
Marcello stands over a little plastic wagon (usually the container for his big Lego-type blocks) with a large plastic cooking spoon, stirring. He has poured the better part of an entire gallon of milk into the wagon (capacity roughly two gallons), along with the remainder of a package of shredded cheese and some yogurt, and informs his daddy that he has made some soup. The wagon bucket has a little latch on the bottom (so a child with his BLOCKS can tip the bucket back to dump his load), so there is a little hole right at the bottom of the bucket. Through which leaks the milk. Into a little wet mess on the floor. Positioned strategically for daddy to step in. Ahh, youth.
Last week, Marcello informed Tom and I that he is "allergic to chicken noodle soup." As my son is not allergic to anything so that word isn't used in my home often, my best estimate is that he learned the word "allergic" from a SpongeBob SquarePants episode. My four year old, the genius.
Speaking of sponges, did you know that children are sponges when it comes to hearing, learning and repeating everything!? Tom and I both had a time in our lives when we watched Beavis and Butthead. Three months ago, Tom (yes, my love, I unequivocally blame you for this) began referring to Marcello's BUNGHOLE. We never explained what a bunghole is, never discussed the issue in detail. Never used "bunghole," "butt" or "butthole" in the same sentence. However, Marcello has correctly deduced what a bunghole is. We'll ask him simple, serious questions like "Where is your train?" or "Have you seen daddy's other shoe?" and Marcello now replies, "It's in my Bunghole!" And then he laughs - Oh, he knows it's funny. He even has a Bunghole Dance. He bends over, touches his toes, and wiggles his butt. It's a little disturbing when he does it naked.
Genius. . . Typical. . . An Absolute Doll!
How about:
When he just comes up to his mommy, and says, "I love you, Mommy" without provocation?
or,
when he kisses my forehead when he knows I have a headache?
or,
when he says "Sorry, Daddy, for making soup on the floor?"
My precious boy.
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