the 100 blogs war...

so here it is..blog entry #100!...what started as a lark to keep me writing in may of 2012...still lives as we cross into 2016...and the cliché of mental resolutions continues as well...to write more...read more...and most importantly...listen more...to publish that second book...although as life kicks me around since that first book was published late 2010...isn't it always like that?...i stop and think about intent and result...and realize that trying to conform to the restrictions of small press agents and contests...well, that compromises intent too much...and so i will probably go it alone and self-publish one way or another...and that's fine...when i think about art and expression...all art...the most important result is not the sale (although some dollars would be nice)...it is striking a chord in the viewer...the listener...or reader...and making that tenuous connection...this year brought two performances in film that shook me to the core...and i suppose neither will get the recognition so deserved...blythe danner in "i'll see you in my dreams" and nina hoss in "phoenix"...the subtle power...love and survival...raw and ugly and beautiful...and affirming...and so we go on...maybe more focused for a few weeks...we try to keep our footing on life's slippery curves...wishing everyone the new year they wish for...and the life they deserve

oh, come, all ye faithful

so, again, in penn...and, once again, that wonderful violinist...and this time he was playing "oh, come, all ye faithful"...and it was quite beautiful...and haunting...and got me thinking as i swiped, and rushed for the 1 train...i thought about all those thin lines that separate...faith from fear...compassion from cynicism...those same lines that often divide us and swallow us whole...i marvel at those so steadfast and sure in their faith...sure enough that it is part of who they are...the very fabric of their being...we may agree on very little...but they will be the first to offer a hand in crisis...and then those who feel that differences compromise their faith...and go to great lengths to erase the difference...and lose the core of belief in the process...and i hear the strains of that song in my head...reminding me of a time so far back...in a crisp white blouse and black skirt...singing with a staten island chorus...oh, yes, way back when singing was part of my life...and the chorus was performing Christmas classics...songs that brought a pause of peace to my teenaged Jewish soul...and the memory reminded me of a core belief...we may pray to different gods...in very different holy houses...and quiet rooms...but we all hope to get to the same place...and that in itself should be enough...Happy Chanukah (a little late)...Merry Christmas...and most important...peace within

imagine...

so yesterday i was walking through penn station...lirr side...truly disgusting...am i telling you anything you don't already know?...and then i heard it...a violinist who plays for the masses who rush by ignoring him on a daily basis...he was playing "imagine"...and i felt a catch in my throat...the news these days is unimaginable...we shield ourselves with posts from the left and right and argue hoping to hide the anger and fear brewing at the surface...and please if you're reading this...then just read...the place for your political views is on your social media...but let's agree on one thing...this is not the world we want for our children...our nieces and nephews...our godchildren...this is not the world our grandparents envisioned for us in their final thoughts before they passed...and so i listened to that violinist...i should have stopped and lingered...but i raced on...raced towards what, really?...john lennon...would have been 75...brilliant and troubled...and all in between...maligned for his love for a woman many saw as the cause of the break-up of our beloved beatles...really?...life ended what was the beatles...and went on in four distinct separate paths...but music lives on...and those lovely violin strings reminded me of that...and i am wiping the tears because these days i can't imagine...and for that, mr. lennon, my heart breaks

tinder tsuris

she will want to shoot me for this blog...but i can't help myself...i am the mother of a twenty-something daughter...and i am watching the trainwreck of today's "mating rituals" from the sidelines...and i want to throw up...tinder...ok cupid...plenty of fish...on and on...making the old-fashioned bar pick-ups from the seventies look sanitized and clean...although i am sure our mothers had visions of "looking for mr. goodbar" in their heads...thanks to modern technology you can have a whole relationship in one day and never meet...you can reject with a non-swipe...you can ride a roller coaster of attention and rejection and never leave home...when i was her age (wow i sound ancient) there was effort that went into rejection...first, someone had to get your phone number...either in person...or from some well-meaning relative who gave it out like halloween candy without telling you..."you'll like him, he's so nice"...which often meant he needed the trick or treat bag on his head to go in public...then there was the date...and if it was pleasant enough, maybe you went out a few times...and then the phone stopped ringing...because after the weekend date you had to wait for a phone call...or maybe you called...because now it was the eighties...but if you called too much you were suffocating them...and they said..."it's not you, it's me"..."i need some time to find myself"..."i think we want different things"...and then you cried to your friends...got drunk at happy hour...ate a few chocolate bars...and went on...then times started changing...berger broke up with carrie on a post it!...email break ups...text break ups...nothing left to break up...and now it's swipe and the city...and people don't know how to talk anymore...or talk with their eyes...and i am lamenting...people certainly can't write...there are no love letters...or cards...nothing to pull out of storage and smile over so many years later...tsuris...the flavor of the word is lost in translation...but that motherly woe is universal...just don't ever mess with our girls (or boys)...cause we'll rain a whole freakin' mess of tsuris on your parade!...tinder my ass

the red badge of courage...

veteran's day 2015...a time to pause and reflect...from the birth of this day following the great war, WWI, to the mideast battles we cannot seem to leave...and all those in between..to the new veterans continuously joining the ranks of all who came before...how strange the turn of events must be for a veteran...forced to reconcile the past and present...the greatest generation that fought and died on many continents in WWII...without benefit of last rites or kaddish...this generation passing before our eyes in obituary columns from portland to seattle...what must it feel like to remember the skeletal people they rescued at liberation...to seeing the berlin wall go up...come down...and watch as angela merkel leads germany, now our ally...or vietnam veterans...reading brochures for cruises on the mekong...a river that flowed hot and red with blood of lost friends...the wound of all our veterans is memory...it is open...constant...and relentless...veteran's day...skip the run to macy's...there will be another one-day-sale in three minutes...take a minute to appreciate the real cost of war...and pray for sweet dreams for those who came back...

do not go gentle into that good night...

november 1st...new york...you'd be sitting on easy street if you'd invested in nike, neutrogena and advil...the marathon, halloween make-up removal and the headache you've had since the mets started their final leg of the world series journey...it ain't easy being a mets fan...living in the shadow of the presumptive champs across the bridge...waiting during painful years when october meant crying over the giants or jets...or just raking leaves and counting days till february's spring training...i am watching this young team and thinking back to 1969 and classmates being sent to the principal's office for sneaking transistor radios into class...to 1986 when the "R" went to queensboro plaza...and the doors would open...and we would scream to riders waiting on the platform..."what's the score?"...to the 2000 subway series...when the whole world was new york...before all our innocence was shattered in 2001...and now 2015...two teams so hungry...and we arm ourselves with poetic clichés and deep rooted chants...i think back to a lee mazzilli poster in the 70's...the joke that if i'd met ron darling in the 80's...i might be sherri darling now...or the piazza jersey i wore faithfully at the games in the '90s and early 2000's...and now...this baby pitching staff...some younger than lauren...with the enormous weight of years of mounting hope on their shoulders...and i am hoping too...i am hoping for safe and spiritually filling runs for all those marathoners as they cross that verrazano bridge (and they will cross that bridge faster than any poor car come tomorrow morning)...i am hoping that parents of younger children are not od'ing on all the candy you stole while such children went to sleep last night...and mostly i am hoping that our 2015 mets find some extra gas in the tank tonight and continue on to kansas city this week...but remind fans that no matter what the ending to this fairy tale season...that we embrace our team...keep our jerseys poised and ready...we're mets fans...you gotta believe..

the ties that bind...

the monday after a family wedding weekend...feeling comes back to your feet...the hairdo is falling...and life resumes...saturday, i was fortunate to share in the celebration as mike's cousin, matthew, exchanged vows with our new beautiful cousin, marlye...now, let's see..math...i met mike's family in 1987...and matthew was...four!...there's a grey hair...waiting for the ceremony i looked behind me at my daughter, and nieces and nephew...smiling and radiant...adulthood snatching them so quickly...now they are only babies in worn photographs....that afternoon i had pulled out my wedding album...waxing nostalgic, if you will...there i was...the hair, the makeup...the staten island hairdresser who promised me subtle but looking so much more tess mcgill than tess of the d'urbervilles...and you all know the feeling as years go by...the ache for all faces smiling in pictures...faces no longer here...and so as i looked around that night at the party at all the new faces...i smiled...and then shared a drink or two with dear sisters-in-law, and cousins...and even a niece!...and laughed during selfies...watched the torch pass...and hope to be passing it in those tight heels for many years to come...

the big chill....

joaquin...hurricane joaquin...almost behind us...had to load up on the entenmann's...in case of a power outage...the box is looking at me...oh, what the hell...my ass is gonna look big in that dress next week anyway...but back to joaquin...you gotta love it...a name no one can freakin' spell...hit or miss...kind of like a certain actor's career...but I digress...there it was...christie in his fleece...de blasio's 2015 tour interrupted....oh, and not to be outdone...fighting for lead story...massacre in oregon...putin shitting on syria...and me?...i had to pull out the long sleeves...slippers...pack the sandals away...sigh at fading tan lines...heat up soup for the first chill...and wonder...when did it really happen for me...or for you...when did the weight of this world leave me so cold...why does each tragedy elicit less of a response...this the new norm...and a dive into bad tv...or good...the latest novel...or obscure paperback on a sale rack...that pinot waiting for a special occasion...nothing really settles the unease...nothing really warms my core...i just find myself more cynical...more jaded...i pause to watch an ad for a local district attorney race...and one candidate claims the advantage...she is not a "politician"...i can't stop laughing...honey, the minute your name was entered you joined the circus...yeah, you all know the lyric...send in the clowns...don't bother they're here..

everybody's talking at me...

and i don't hear a word they're saying...here it is...i was driving today and in front of me was this suv...it had the decals on the back...representing the family...you know...cute little boys...girls...kitties...doggies...but after i lost count of the kids and pet decals i thought...where is this suv going?...cause when it parks i'm thinking of leaving a pack of trojans on the hood...oh, yeah, half of you are cracking up and the other half are yelling at your phones...and there it is in a nutshell... the conundrum of political correctness...and now in the political quagmire that presidential elections stir...i am wondering...which came first the chicken or the egg...the prejudice masquerading as political incorrectness...or the assertion that no one is ever wrong, we all receive a free pass...the guilty, and innocent...all to atone for past sins of political incorrectness...and this leaves me baffled...if everyone would just hit the damned pause button, and look in the mirror...if everyone did a little soul searching...would there really be anyone left waiting at those pearly gates?...l'shanah tovah to all...peace in your soul this new year...

think about the sun, pippin...

it is labor day weekend...in the blink of an eye, summer winds down...oh, i know she is not gone yet...she will roast us a few more times...probably around the jewish holidays when my tan toes will squish and cry in heels...my skin prickle in exasperation under the weight of wool-blends...but now, it is squirrel time...time to soak it in down to your core...and store it away deep inside...really open your eyes to september sunsets...ignore that moon grinning at you all too early in the evening...don't admit to anyone how you looked more than once at the rich palette of autumn colors tempting you in stores everywhere...crimson, burnt orange, chestnut...or how you closed your eyes and thought of the pungent aroma of pumpkin spice...no, now is the time for a crisp chardonnay or iced beer late in the day...september, always the ultimate transitional month...even if there is no one in your home heading back to school...we all head back to reality...a time when we harvest our summer dreams...hold them tight to nourish us in the dark that comes after fall...when we dream about the beauty in one perfect flame...ah, yes, pippin think about the sun...

hot child in the city

the dog days of august...and it's hot...it's a 10 on the frizz alert...my natural waves will look like shit...but i will stop...i will not break my vow made earlier this summer...i will not complain...but schvitz in silence...this summertime sadness is for my city...even if i no longer am technically a resident...i did grow up as a young child in brooklyn...then onto staten island...almost manhattan - nyu student (albeit commuter)...years in queens before the move to the "island"...but to this day...for all things that feed my soul and creative core...i am a child of the city...and i bet all who read this would agree...any pangs of nostalgia for city days gone by...whatever your current age...they do not revolve around those times in the seventies...you know...dark, dank subways...garbage piled high...hey, wait a minute...now when i walk around i don't need a flashback...it's here...the city is overrun with homeless...i read a very good editorial about this that had homeless divided into three categories...one, those who are not homeless at all, but find humor in shaking down people for money and seeing what their daily haul will be...think this isn't true...take a good look outside penn, port authority...somehow, i'm not laughing...two, the mentally ill...there is not enough time in this blog to address, without raising my pressure to unsafe levels, how we treat mental illness in this country...and then, three, those who have fallen through the very large cracks...i don't want to be insulted any longer by mayor dumblasio or other statisticians...this is their city...and these are offices they ran for, wanted , and won...so this is their inheritance...responsibility...and so i challenge them all to just walk the city...and pay attention...sit alone in any fast food establishment and wait...someone will approach you...ask you for money...aggressively...those minimum wage employees won't help you...foot police...that's a memory...what's left is your conscience, street savvy and divine intervention...then i challenge them to walk in any subway station...in any borough...and breathe deep...especially in august heat...then hit the ground running...and think of the best minds your administrations can bring to the table...rome in the twenty-first century...and the lions are hungry

Days of whine and roses....

a heat wave is hours away...humidity returning...my hair will look like i stuck my finger in a socket...and reality tv ate my brain...with all the myriad tv programming available...cable...netflix...streaming...i feel hyponotized by whether kaitlyn will pick nick or shawn...it's this thing lauren and i have...watching "bachelor" or "bachelorette"...a guilty pleasure that doesn't cause you to really think...although you find yourself analyzing for hours...who should be sent home...which contestant is the most certifiable...which couple will last beyond the first commercial break...but mostly it has me wondering about the nature of reality tv...and our obsession with it...i think about the leaders of the pack..."the amazing race"...i thought that was finding the shortest route from penn station to this week's sample sale...or "dancing with the stars"...or is it almost stars...or has-beens...or "we have no place left to go since they cancelled jerry lewis' telethon"..."the real housewives"...of new york...atlanta...los angeles...deer park...oops...well, not yet....and the granddaddy of them all...after next season, they are finally pulling the plug...a mercy killing...on "american idol"...ryan seacrest must be getting his aarp card already...but really...if you want to know why these shows multiply like hangers in your closet...if you can't find justification for the ratings numbers...even if they have been slipping...just put on your local evening news...watch the whole half hour...and then the national news for good measure...you'll be spinning that dial in a heidi klum minute..."america's got talent" anyone?

Grohl...you're my monkey wrench...

the best laid plans...back in november...as i wracked my brain for an anniversary gift for mike...a seemingly perfect one fell in my lap...the foo fighters would be playing their hometown - dc - on july 4th...which is also mike's bday...and mike is a foo's fan!...bam...got the tickets...presented them on our anniversary...when the rest of the tour was announced with one, then two, ny dates i thought maybe i should switch...citi field a little easier than rfk in dc...but mike said, "no, dc will be a fun getaway for my bday"...and then in june grohl fell off the stage on tour...and being older than he probably likes...46...did some good damage to his leg...cancelled the rest of the european tour...but silent on the july 4th concert...i googled daily, called ticketmaster and no one was sure what was going on...we thought of cancelling the hotel...but lo and behold two days before we were going to leave the foo's confirmed...and so we went...and the adventure began...first stop down the turnpike...lunch...burger king...royalty of the grossness of turnpike dining...mike's double cheeseburger was a single...returned...then a triple...was this a sign?...checked into the hotel....nice room...trendy sliding mirrored bathroom door...didn't close...not even close...we looked at each other...so as not to kill a 26-year marriage we switched...we sighed...dinner...mike ordered a seven and seven...the waitress came back eons later and asked again what drink he wanted...she had never heard of a seven and seven...this being dc, not zimbabwe i thought...another sign? hmmm...and then saturday there we were for a day long festival at rfk...let's put it this way...shea in it's last days was the four seasons compared to this shithole...open seating...we got two great seats...well under the overhang...rain was a possibility...this was about 12:15...we had hours to take in the humanity around us...many ages...many july 4th colors...then there were, of course, the few good ones you see at these events...apparently ted kaczynski had a twin...cause he wandered around the whole day...back and forth...aimless...shirtless...practically pantless...jerry garcia's twin was there too...that's jerry, the later years...about 100 pounds heavier...shirtless in gym shorts...a natural appetite suppressant...there were the lines...as always...at the ladies room...by late afternoon...the woman in front of me passed me a roll of toilet paper...everyone was ripping off sheets...she looked at me and said..."it's come to this"...oh, lord...there was an hour and a half storm delay...that was fun as the entire crowd on the field ran for the stands...before the concert resumed it was mud fest as one person after another dove into the gross field...to the cheers from the stands...and there were the requisite obnoxious drunks...of course behind us...one swaying back and forth and yelling...getting louder and louder...knocking into us, as ll cool j took the stage...and then suddenly we felt we were wet...it seemed one got sick on mike...it actually was beer...but no one messes with a fifty-five new york woman...i spun around looked at them and said, "you're fucked now"...got security who talked to them...the drunk moved...an apology from his friends...who still gave him beer all night...but all was right...because through all of this there was the music...incredible music from all across this country...as in the foo's sonic highway...trombone shorty and orleans avenue (you must see them at least once), joan jett  and the blackhearts, gary clark jr...heart (with the amazing ann wilson's voice soaring on "alone")...ll cool j...buddy guy...trouble funk...and finally around 9:20 (!!!) the foo's....when talking with people we all wondered what grohl would do with the leg cast...well...he had a movable throne constructed...that moved down the runway to the crowd...and with his guitar and elevated leg he rocked the stadium for almost two and a half hours...at one point...as he told the tale of the broken leg...he yelled something to the effect that there was no fucking way he would miss this show...which left me thinking...why the fuck didn't you say that to the press two weeks ago!!...an incredible show...and i had to kind of admit...that through all the wondering and waiting if we would be there...grohl, you were my monkey wrench...but as i left the stadium with thousands of fans into the night...i smiled and thought...there goes my hero...

lady sings the blues

the summer solstice...or summer monsoon...approaches...warm days...flip flops...the memory of thousand pound snow boots recedes...and yet, i feel blue...father's day weekend...it is the same for many...and while i am thankful for having a truly wonderful father-in-law...while my heart is warmed when watching lauren and michael together...this year...after so many...the loss of my father tugs at me...the passage of time changes loss...never erases it...for those of you celebrating with your dad this weekend...enjoy that blessing...for all the dads, bask in your special day...and for those of you with that ache in your heart...think of the funniest, best memory of your dad...and smile...i usually don't put my poems in my blog...but here is one...
shiva
i was left wanting
in your absence


despite the earth
              the sun
                 the sky


the glory of those treasures,
like stale crumbs trailing
a hungry mouse's refusal,
the temptation in vain


imagining your laughter
dancing in a cool morning rain

 

read between the lions...

as a poet i realize that so much of my intent is not only in the lines...but in between them as well...the true mark of success - when your readers find themselves in both...but when i hit "the wall"...as i often do...and cannot write...i read...and being "old school" and proud of it...that means holding a book in my hands...maybe one hot off the press...crisp, with that inky odor wafting from the pages...or from a discounter...worn a bit, with curled corners...or to really feed my nerdy soul...a library book...complete with food and coffee stains from previous borrowers...a bookmark left behind...notes scribbled in the corners...which makes me imagine who held this book before...did they love it...hate it...did it push them to pull out a pen and paper...laptop...or phone...and get those thoughts, feelings and ideas down...twist them...flip them...and find meaning on the other side...and so as i dismay over a drought of words...and look for a book on my bookshelf...i think a train ride is needed....think i need to walk up those stairs between the lions on 42nd street...hold the fruits of writers that came before me in the palms of my hands...hoping for sweet inspiration as the summer heat toasts my brain!

the road not taken

as we shift from winter to summer...(if you blinked you missed spring)...and bask in the heat and humidity...(everyone on the east coast is banned from kvetching after this winter-you must schvitz in silence)...i find myself thinking of choices we make...and one's life makes for us...and i know all this is started whenever i see a graduation post or read a commencement speech...it is not a feeling of melancholy or regret but more of astonishment at the swift passage of time...i found it really hitting me as i paused for a late lunch last week at café reggio in the village...it coincidentally was nyu graduation day...and although the large ceremony now finds its home at yankee stadium, when i closed my eyes i was immediately back 33 years ago in washington square park...a hot glorious day...marching with fellow school of the arts grads...we would be dubbed tisch that day after a hefty endowment...we marched from the old building on second avenue...we were loud, brass and scared...facing a dubious employment future at best...it was tradition that our school jumped in the fountains after  being officially deemed graduates...my bestie jeannine and i had heard the violet robes ran in the water...and we had dresses on anticipating a nice lunch with our parents after...so we held back a bit...or maybe it was all the champagne we had that morning...but those graduates in the fountains...that was always the picture you would see in the daily news...exuberance...defiance...joy...and now it is 33 years later...and there i was draining an iced coffee in the presence of newly minted grads and their parents...from which nyu division really didn't matter...the ache i felt at what was...what is...and what will be...it reminded me that it does the creative soul a little good every once in a while to walk those old familiar steps again...take in all that has changed...and cherish what's remained...and to never second guess what roads you have taken or passed by...it's the detours that define who we are...

the birdcage

"as i wandered out on the streets of miami, i said to meinself this is one fancy town"....back a few days from a trip to the promised land...well, the domestic promised land...and it feels like years ago, as all vacations do...yes, we were in miami...south beach to be exact...a somewhat quieter section, unlike the picture of nathan lane and robin williams forever in my brain...a quick vacation for sun and relaxation...a trip seemingly surrounded by birds...first the emu in front of mike...a woman who clearly should have paid for the seat with extra legroom...when she put her chair back she was practically in his lap...then just for added measure she had to blast her music and get her groove on...so now mike's tray is about to bust off the back of her chair...we were one plane seat malfunction away from paralysis...then there were the cute little birds by the hotel rooftop pool...actual birds...not exactly sure of the species...let's say they were like "swifties"...you know, taylor swift fans...once they start they don't shut the fuck up...but when they did the new cackling came from a group of rocker wannabees directly across from us...you know the type...jeans, black tee shirt...in 90 degree heat...arm sleeve tattoo...then removal of said shirt...and ew...omg...not david grohl...but david lee roth....the 2015 version...they pranced like peacocks but were really rooftop pigeons...the beach...the ocean...the turquoise horizon that melts all memory of winter and the spring that never was...the peaceful hum of the ocean and sunbathers...bright and yellow like canaries...until..."abuelo, abuelo, abuelo"...one billion times...a freaking mynah bird...and I want to scream..."answer your fucking grandkid"...but I turn to the sun instead and dream of meadowlarks...as I watch shore birds comb the sands searching for buried treasure I dig my toes in deeper...want to take the bird songs home...to help me soar above the three hour delay back to laguardia...and the cacophony of caged birds waiting to fly home to their nests

the sky is crying

Every little girl should have an Auntie Sharyn…from my earliest memories of her as my first babysitter…playing with my dolls…torturing her,  along with my cousin Jennifer, by playing my Mary Poppins album… over and over and over…to the rehearsed chorus we would always sing to her “Auntie Sharyn, you got skinny”…chocolate turkeys for all of us every Thanksgiving…then years later…complaining about boys, life and everything to her…and always the sympathetic ear…to becoming a young adult and sharing a New Years with her...sleepovers here and there…next day commuting with much laughter to work…Brighton Beach memories…sun and laughter…the soft lilting tones of the knish guy “geshrying knish knish” and then parking himself by our blanket…not wanting to leave…we knew we couldn’t look at each because if we did we would still be laughing…and then I was an adult…through all the years I would marvel at the closeness and love of Sharyn and her sisters, my mother, Millie and my Aunt Harriet…affectionately “BB’s Girls”…the shorthand between them…her deep love and admiration for her daughter, Iris…her baby girl…and then Eddie…a dear son-in-law…really son after so many years…but Sharyn’s supreme “nachas” came with her grandchildren, Jeff and Jackie…she lit up when talking about them…the big events and day to day life…but life flies by on butterfly wings…and now she is gone…I cannot help but think of that famous T.S. Eliot line  “april is the cruelest month”…and it is cruel that Sharyn is gone…but I am reminded of the mitzvah of memory…a gift to us…and thanking my dear Aunt for that gift as our healing begins…

just keep swimming...

so last week i was shopping for a new swimsuit...a florida vacation in a few weeks...my favorite black go-to swimsuit ruined by chlorine and other mysterious chemicals during pool pt...i know...many of you are twitching in sympathy already...after a long and brutal winter...for me lots of idle, inactive time in a sling...and then ice...snow...indoors...cookies...pinot noir...and now...my thighs and ass are getting their own zip code...so, there i was going through racks of swimsuits...picked a few which did not make me think "hideous" instantly...and did the death march into the fitting room...three-way mirrors...yellow lighting...pasty white skin...omg, i thought...why not just give me a gun with the fitting room ticket...and then an old expression came to mind...if you can't lose it, tan it...and i swore, as i tried on one after the other...i swore to the beach gods to be faithful to the diet i had lamely started...and also vowed to keep my sunhat on at the beach...you know to protect from those uv rays...and also to hide...in case i should run into any size 4 skinny bitches from my past while sipping my exotic glass of water...gazing at the ocean...dreaming of winter and its excess washing away in the waves...

Gary, and Gary...Indiana

watching the news...can't help but think of that old expression...may you live in interesting times...new laws...old prejudices and fears...and the gentle coaxing...finessing of wording...ah, yes...the wicked witch scratches her chin...these things must be done delicately...these days those that rant against the evils of faraway lands...those countries we can't even pin on a map...ones that treat their citizens harshly in the name of what they call holy...the irony...yes, these days many of our fellow men and women...those we have entrusted with our local and national governments claim a special relationship with the stars and stripes and all we hold dear...and hide deep-seated fears behind the language and intent of law...all as the Judeo-Christian world approaches holy days...reflective days...the days of ten commandments...and then not being worthy of them...of ultimate sacrifice...resurrection...love...i do not mean to offend...but i think of a line from "hannah and her sisters"..."if Jesus came back and saw what was being done in his name, he'd never stop throwing up"...so as this holy week unfolds for many...as we pray for what should pass over and what should remain...think of the messages these days should impart to all...let your love of your faith lead you to greater acceptance of all your fellow men and women...even that which is most difficult for you...and remember...the good ole days weren't all that good...ask anyone still with us who had to wear a pink triangle...or yellow star...

as the saints go marching in

did you feel it today?...it was the feeling that the ground was about to sink from the sheer weight of it all...what weight you ask?...the weight of modern day saints...puzzled?...let my fried fifty-something brain lay it out for you...it all became abundantly clear reading a story in the paper about a man attempting to sue an applebee's in nj for burning his face as he leaned over his sizzling fajitas to pray...glad i read this because if i heard this while driving then i would have laughed so hard that i would have missed the five hundred potholes in front of me and blew out my tires....but it points to the fact that we live in a society where every individual feels blameless...surely it is always the fault of someone else...from anti-bullying assemblies where the most vicious bully wears the feigned smile pledging to be kind while furiously posting with the hidden phone...to the person ranting about the dui accident in his beautiful hamlet while running out of fingers to count recalling all the times driving home after more than a few at happy hour...the political experts among your circle ranting and never voting...people who blame those of other faiths for all life's ills who never step into their own houses of worship...the earth is sinking from the weight of this self-appointed sainthood...and maybe this long winter has left me a bit introspective...then again, maybe this spring all would be a little lighter if we did a little soul searching...a little soul cleaning, as it were...then maybe we could cut our fellow men and women a little slack...realize that each individual is flawed...including ourselves...and by accepting this and taking responsibility we lighten that weight...in time for summer...

The Unicorn...

it has been two months since my shoulder surgery…and while i plod on with pt and recovery through a late-blooming, but shitty winter…it is the calendar that has me fifty shades of blue...april approaching…55….ugh...there’s no getting around it…the roots don’t lie…or the memories, and sometimes lack thereof…the body parts that you never knew existed that suddenly ache when you reach for that cookie that you know you shouldn’t eat…but you feel you’ve earned with just getting out of bed another day…but in a warped universe…twisted and perverse…G-d has granted my wish for youth eternal…yes, almost 55…and yet i still haunt the tampax aisle…guzzle advil to no avail…and roar like a fucking dragon wanting to burn everything in my path once a month…yes, part of me seems to be 14…when i went for pre-op before the surgery…and filled out 75 pages of information…was passed like a bag of popcorn from nurse to nurse to nurse…all around my age…the awe and wonder that passed each face as they read the box…date of your last period…the disbelief…and then the audible…loud and clear…YOU STILL GET YOUR PERIOD?!?...yes, i replied…i am the fucking unicorn…the 8^th wonder of the fucking world…yes…i will be pushing through cvs with my walker and buying tampax until the end of days…or when jennifer aniston wins an oscar…whichever comes first…then i was pissed that they brought it up…and so the glint of the dragon must have blinded them and they shut up…yes…that wish over candles for youth…that was supposed to be for 25…skinny…carefree…able to down tequila shots with grace…and live to tell..and repeat…so in conclusion, ladies…especially those reading this in your thirties, forties…or, bless you, younger…next birthday…when you’re miserable over those five pounds…five grey hairs…five wrinkles…the candles…just wish for bradley cooper…

call your grammy...

the grammy awards...the grammy red carpet...the gifts that keep on giving...the last red carpet that has not been sanitized over the past few years to a yawn status...the artists who intentionally cause a twitter explosion...the ones who think they are all that but should have looked in a mirror before they left the house...with the lights on...the only thing funnier...or maybe scarier than the fashions are the interviews...i wonder what the cumulative IQ was last night...over the past few years the show itself has become more of a cbs concert...a white bread view of the current music scene...which actually is like the grammy's of yesteryear...only now it's shorter...but you remember...a performance for each of the 962 genres...flamenco...polka...and being a young teen in the 70's that meant that although i was blissfully buried in my records of joni, linda and carly...the name announced from the podium was the milquetoast queen olivia...but i digress...last night...thank you kim for wearing a dynasty cast-off joan collins bathrobe and calling it a dress...thank you rihanna...because you brought one of my favorite movies to the front row...the wizard of oz...as you channeled glinda in that pink 1960's toilet seat cover...thank you madonna...the mistress of style over substance (sorry fans...but cyndi had the voice)...for your red carpet outfit...did you get lost on your way to the "fifty shades" party at shady pines?...thank you beck...why i don't know...thank you grammy's for finally honoring joan rivers with an award before the telecast...and then leaving her off the dead montage...there were some better moments...tony and gaga...finally ac/dc...elo...hozier and annie lennox...but they somehow got drowned in all the rest...so i will clear my head...blast some led zeppelin IV...and wait for the oscars...pray that neil patrick can find that show's pulse...so i will not have to swim in my fifty-something memory for salvation...

the cost of deflation

they say the third monday in january is the saddest day of the year...they call it blue monday...and at this point many would argue that the new england patriots should be blue...and not because of their uniforms...but for deflated balls...laugh track...and in this day and age when bowls are determined by balls...laugh track...i want to laugh...because i want this, the ultimate in distraction, to...well...distract...but it's the third week in january...and we are just a bit over one third into winter...not close enough to spring for me...and i am, hopefully, one week away from taking this freaking sling off my right arm...but that's only a small step in what is turning out to be a longer road to recovery than i thought...and i'm getting stir crazy...and i should just paste everything i eat...and don't eat...to my ass...and i am going to throw the scale out the window...and hope by some miracle that at that given moment tom brady just happens to be underneath...pretty boy face with the idiot knit hat...poker face as he claims innocence...yes...i hope he is there...with that uber-skinny bitch wife, giselle...and then maybe the spell of blue monday will be broken...then i would laugh till the sling ached...and so would peyton...and bridget moynahan...and my dad, up there, the ultimate giants fan...we'd all laugh at the cost of air in your balls...which as it turns out...is priceless...

let it go

a few weeks ago...one of my last days at work before my shoulder surgery...as i straightened up merchandise between the rush of christmas shoppers i playfully squeezed our talking olaf toy...and uttered the words out loud..."i never saw 'frozen'"..to which my boss and coworkers chimed "WHAT?" in disbelief...i told them it was on the dvr...that lauren and i meant to watch it a thousand times...and so there i was shortly after...planted on the couch watching it with lauren...it started true to disney form..taking me back to movie theater days when lauren was a very little girl...anyone reading this who had young children in the 90's will relate...about 10 to 15 minutes into any disney animated hit...before your little boy or girl has you running to explore the joy of public bathrooms in any given multiplex...there it is on the big ass screen...a parent dies...or parents...soon to be replaced by evil stepmothers, maniacal uncles,
witches, etc..to which your child turns to you and cries..."what happened?"...to which you scream, on the inside, fuck you disney..so now i am watching "frozen" and sure enough the parents are gone in a few minutes...and i'm waiting for the empowerment that is supposed to be the subtext...let's see...elsa, the sister of untold powers, finds her mojo by banishing herself on a cliff, unleashing a pretty cool ice castle and a disney-sexy gown to match...anna has to deal with two suitors, a reindeer and talking snowman in a hideous heidi-hand-me-down frock...despite the back story of romance, it is the sibling love that empowers these disney damsels...okay...a move somewhat forward...flash forward three weeks and i am watching "into the woods"...fully aware that with disney's paws on sondheim it will ultimately be sondheim-lite...and it may be why there is a visible seam in this movie...two thirds into it and then what to do?...this after all, is sondheim's view of fairy tales...not for children...but more how we treat each other...how we try to shield our children...who must confront all the good and evil there is..outside and within..to the children out there...all singing off-key...all the time...adele dazeem's "let it go"...remember too sondheim as you grow and venture your own paths..."sometimes people leave you, halfway through the wood. others may deceive you. you decide what's good. you decide alone. but no one is alone."...