As a little girl, my grandmother and mother encouraged me to learn how to sew. Sewing has served me well over all of my years. Originally, I didn't like sewing. I love embroidery, I love knitting, but the sewing machine, patterns, the whole thing...not so much. (Tess still occasionally wears a nightgown and robe that my grandmother made for me when I was her age. I kept it all of these years. ) I can feel her hold me when I touch it. Before I continue, I deeply apologize Mom about the I HATE TO SEW thing.
So, I pulled out of my closet one of my favorite pair of fuchsia and white print Adrienne Vittadini pants. Long, cotton pants in a Size Two. Yes, they fit at one time, when I was a 2. For a while, I had lost weight and took in the waist. So, these beautiful pants were a Size 2-. . With a long fuchsia tee and fuchsia sandals, that was an outfit that rocked. My problem that I was facing...I am no longer a Size 2. Now what? Not only am I not a Size 2, but I am not a Size 2- either! UGHHHHHHHHHH.
Well, there were choices that I could make: 1. Stop eating for about six months. On the up side, the pants will fit! On the down side, it will no longer be spring in 6 months and Fuchsia and White print cotton look silly at Thanksgiving Dinner in the territory that won the Civil War. 2. Place the pants in a snappy bag, drive to Good Will and donate them to someone who won't pop the zipper or bulge like a sausage. The person, might not have to flatten out on a hard surface in order to zip and snap. On the up side, I will be a good Christian, helping my fellow man/woman and go to heaven. On the down side, my selfish hell bound temperment wouldn't let me part with them, "just in case". 3. Alter the pants. Turn the 2- into LNS (Laura Now Size). On the up side, I will be able to wear my pants. On the down side, THERE IS NO DOWN SIDE!!!!!!!
I pinned the bottom of the legs and cut off about 8 inches of leg fabric. (I am only 5'2" afterall). And then I froze. How to add inches to the waist and proportionally match print on the fanny to add fabric. I sat, I thought, I fretted. I held my hands, open palmed up to heaven (well, actually the apartment ceiling) and prayed, "Hey, Nana, help me! I think that my smartie aleckie self may be in too deep! Could we re-create these pants?" ( I will say here, that my grandmother could make anything out of nothing or anything at all. She could look at an outfit or magazine and in no time, an exact replica would appear from her sewing machine. She could turn fabrics/coats to reverse sides and remake any wardrobe...remember, she was raising kids in the Depression)
With speed, precision, creativity, my hands were not my own. They flew over the scissors, cutting an exact insert to match the print in the fabric at seams in the fanny! The waist opened up with ease and my fingers deftly added elastic. My fingers and hands fed the machine to fix the pieces, the hem, the elastic into place. I tried the new Capri's on...the waist was a little big! "Oh, Nan! Really?" was all that I could say. Priscilla planted herself firmly under the table that held the machine and began chattering. Another tuck, a few stitches! Everything was coming together! I removed the modification from the machine, and tried on the Capri's again! No flaw, no mismatch, no bulges!
I began to dance around the machine! "Nan! Thank you! Thank you! Look we did it!!! I love these!" I felt myself wind down. I heard as I looked up, "Dolly Dear, you can do anything!"
Laura Macy Author & Actress
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
AUTOMATICALLY DISFUNCTIONAL
Modern technology, I am told is marvelous. Mundane tasks are automated to make our lives easier, more pleasant, more sanitary. DON'T YOU BELIEVE IT!
Recently, I tried to make use of a Hi-Tech Ladies Room. I appreciate indoor plumbing, I am grateful for snappy cloth like paper towels, sweet smelling soap, flowers and lotions on the counter of a public rest room. BUT, I find working up a sweat to utilize a Ladies Room frustrating and down right annoying.
I strolled into one such useless loo recently. The brass and paneling were inviting, the room smelled pristine! I entered a stall of the Ladies Room in question.
There was an automatic plastic cover machine that as soon as I entered, groaned and bunched plastic up on one side of the seat. Hmmmm. Not a problem, since I wouldn't be caught dead sitting/resting in a public rest room. Here was a glitch. The toilet tissue must be measured or counted...only one square was released at a time. No problem...the longer that I am in a Ladies Room, the less dinner I will eat and the slimmer I can remain. Thinking that this establishment just might be on to weight control, I slowly, individually took one square sheet at a time. There was a flashing red light/eye on the back of the toilet itself. With motion, automatically the toilet is to flush. NOTHING! So, I waved my hand in front of the eye. NOTHING! Hmm. I stepped away (not easy in a 2' X 3' space), approached the light. NOTHING! I put my left foot up, my left foot down, my left foot up and I shook it all around. NOTHING! Upon inspection, I found a tiny button! Ah-ha! I pressed the little button and was nearly swallowed whole by the ferocious fixture!
Whew! I have a full understanding of not wanting to touch anything germy in order to wash hands. So did this establishment. Motion activated faucets lined the counter/sinks! There were three. I moved my hands under one faucet. NOTHING! I approached faucet number two, and with more animation, moved my hands. NOTHING! Number three was my only hope. I approached, reasonably normally, I then was a bit more exaggerated in my movement next. NOTHING! I decided to do the hand signals to the Macarena and the Hokey Pokey in front of all three. NOTHING! I slipped my finger into a faucet opening and received a trickle of water! Oh yes! Next, I attempted the soap dispenser. After the same gymnastics and "signing" a thoughtful prayer as well, do I have to tell you? NOTHING! I took my damp finger and tried to work the edge of a dispenser. I wound up with an avalanche of foam up to my wrist.
I was hungry, I was soapy, I was marginally damp. I am an incurable optimist! So, I approached the automated paper towel dispenser! I waved my foamy hands in front of the "eye"...NOTHING! I tried reaching into the dispenser from a slit at the bottom. The paper towels were smiling at me and teasing as I kept pushing my finger up. NOTHING! I did a moderate Polka. I danced a fair Twist. I tried the Pony, the Mashed Potatoes and Bristol Stomp. NOTHING! I was now totally exhausted, foamy, and not feeling the love for this establishment, nor the desire for the remainder of my dinner! What to do?
From previous blogs, you are aware that I usually travel with three grandchildren. So, lurking in my purse was a reasonably full travel container of WIPIES!!!!! With my elbows, I dumped that purse all over the pristine counter! I pulled wipies out of their little portable dispenser with my teeth! I luxuriated in a Wet Ones sponge bath! I then wiped the contents of my purse to replace them!
Finally, after what would be listed on my resume as a new career move, I emerged from the AUTOMATED, HI-TECH, LIVING EASY Ladies Room!
\
Don't you hate it when you are asked, "What took so long? What happened? Did you fall in?"
Recently, I tried to make use of a Hi-Tech Ladies Room. I appreciate indoor plumbing, I am grateful for snappy cloth like paper towels, sweet smelling soap, flowers and lotions on the counter of a public rest room. BUT, I find working up a sweat to utilize a Ladies Room frustrating and down right annoying.
I strolled into one such useless loo recently. The brass and paneling were inviting, the room smelled pristine! I entered a stall of the Ladies Room in question.
There was an automatic plastic cover machine that as soon as I entered, groaned and bunched plastic up on one side of the seat. Hmmmm. Not a problem, since I wouldn't be caught dead sitting/resting in a public rest room. Here was a glitch. The toilet tissue must be measured or counted...only one square was released at a time. No problem...the longer that I am in a Ladies Room, the less dinner I will eat and the slimmer I can remain. Thinking that this establishment just might be on to weight control, I slowly, individually took one square sheet at a time. There was a flashing red light/eye on the back of the toilet itself. With motion, automatically the toilet is to flush. NOTHING! So, I waved my hand in front of the eye. NOTHING! Hmm. I stepped away (not easy in a 2' X 3' space), approached the light. NOTHING! I put my left foot up, my left foot down, my left foot up and I shook it all around. NOTHING! Upon inspection, I found a tiny button! Ah-ha! I pressed the little button and was nearly swallowed whole by the ferocious fixture!
Whew! I have a full understanding of not wanting to touch anything germy in order to wash hands. So did this establishment. Motion activated faucets lined the counter/sinks! There were three. I moved my hands under one faucet. NOTHING! I approached faucet number two, and with more animation, moved my hands. NOTHING! Number three was my only hope. I approached, reasonably normally, I then was a bit more exaggerated in my movement next. NOTHING! I decided to do the hand signals to the Macarena and the Hokey Pokey in front of all three. NOTHING! I slipped my finger into a faucet opening and received a trickle of water! Oh yes! Next, I attempted the soap dispenser. After the same gymnastics and "signing" a thoughtful prayer as well, do I have to tell you? NOTHING! I took my damp finger and tried to work the edge of a dispenser. I wound up with an avalanche of foam up to my wrist.
I was hungry, I was soapy, I was marginally damp. I am an incurable optimist! So, I approached the automated paper towel dispenser! I waved my foamy hands in front of the "eye"...NOTHING! I tried reaching into the dispenser from a slit at the bottom. The paper towels were smiling at me and teasing as I kept pushing my finger up. NOTHING! I did a moderate Polka. I danced a fair Twist. I tried the Pony, the Mashed Potatoes and Bristol Stomp. NOTHING! I was now totally exhausted, foamy, and not feeling the love for this establishment, nor the desire for the remainder of my dinner! What to do?
From previous blogs, you are aware that I usually travel with three grandchildren. So, lurking in my purse was a reasonably full travel container of WIPIES!!!!! With my elbows, I dumped that purse all over the pristine counter! I pulled wipies out of their little portable dispenser with my teeth! I luxuriated in a Wet Ones sponge bath! I then wiped the contents of my purse to replace them!
Finally, after what would be listed on my resume as a new career move, I emerged from the AUTOMATED, HI-TECH, LIVING EASY Ladies Room!
\
Don't you hate it when you are asked, "What took so long? What happened? Did you fall in?"
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
WE ARE FAMILY / IT'S A FAMILY AFFAIR
On Sunday, May 6, Todd made his FIRST HOLY COMMUNION. For those of you who are Catholics, this is big stuff when you are a little second grader. The girls are dressed so beautifully in white, with veils, some simple, some elaborate.. Little boys are in suits, ties, dress shoes. Of course, the little girls maintain their composure. Teachers (like myself) wind up checking, rechecking, straightening, restraightening ties, jackets. Tying shoes, tucking in shirts continuously until the entrance procession is on the move!
Families were to sit in their assigned pews with the Communicant on the aisle. I (as I've said, as one of the Religion Teachers) along with another, led Todd's group...through the Chapel, around the altar and into the Church... The girls, slowly, meticulously. The boys struggled to maintain prayerful hands, slow down from their characteristic dead run, NOT TOUCH EACH OTHER. As a rule, Todd doesn't "walk" as such! He pumps the air with little legs churning distance as if springs were built into his shoes.
I have worked with my class (containing Todd) ALL YEAR. With pride, the children slipped into their pews, next to their Moms and/or Dads. Todd slipped in next to Mom. Mom's fiance sat next to her, Tess, Tanner next to them. Emi (Grandpa's friend) next. Grandpa at the end. Okay, Meme...where to sit? No worries, I sat across the aisle (Grandpa side) in staff seating.
Grandpa and I are divorced, you know. He is a member of the CLC, Jesuits. The man has credentials to be sure. He kids that even though he can do most things in the Church (except Consecration of the Blessed Sacrament and dispense Holy Orders), one thing that he hasn't found in his volumes and volumes of prayer books and rituals...an exorcism for Me! Gotta love the family, yes?
I am a lady. I am a gracious lady. The day was all about Todd...not about US. (But, my white Neiman Marcus suit really kicked) Hmmmmm. Todd read a petition (5 children were selected). Eucharistic Ministers were to ascend and gather around the altar before the distribution of Eucharist. Steve and I went up on the altar. The Religious Education Director whispered to me, "It's up to you, where do you want him? I thought that you would give Todd The Precious Blood for the first time, what do we do with Steve?" I said that he is his grandfather, that he came from New York to get here to celebrate, that I see Todd and teach him every day, let the Monsignor go for it. Father gave us a scathing look. We separated.
Todd approached Father in the circle of Tiff (Mom), Tess, Tanner. His little heart was bursting from the monogrammed shirt almost disengaging his jacket buttons. "The Body of Christ", said Father. He beamed as he said, "AMEN". As a unit, they moved to Steve. With a smile that forced the ushers to use crowbars to widen the aisles, Todd looked up at his Grandfather. With reverence, and pride, Grandpa bent down, "The Blood of Christ, Todd". "OH, AMEN!!! Grandpa!"
My eyes teared a little (five shades of eye shadow and perfect eyeliner with amazing mascara...I contained myself).
After the Communicants received, the remainder of the Eucharistic Ministers (I was one of those) joined the others to distribute to the remainder of the congregation. Todd (sitting next to his Mom, our daughter, Tiff) was centered in the Church on the center aisle, in the front row. Flanking the pew, I realized that Steve was on one side, in front of a statue of St. Joseph and I directly across from him on the other side, in front of the Blessed Mother Mary.
Congratulation Todd! Your family is proud of and happy for you! Congratulations to us for the love that binds us (and maybe gags) in spite of ourselves!
Families were to sit in their assigned pews with the Communicant on the aisle. I (as I've said, as one of the Religion Teachers) along with another, led Todd's group...through the Chapel, around the altar and into the Church... The girls, slowly, meticulously. The boys struggled to maintain prayerful hands, slow down from their characteristic dead run, NOT TOUCH EACH OTHER. As a rule, Todd doesn't "walk" as such! He pumps the air with little legs churning distance as if springs were built into his shoes.
I have worked with my class (containing Todd) ALL YEAR. With pride, the children slipped into their pews, next to their Moms and/or Dads. Todd slipped in next to Mom. Mom's fiance sat next to her, Tess, Tanner next to them. Emi (Grandpa's friend) next. Grandpa at the end. Okay, Meme...where to sit? No worries, I sat across the aisle (Grandpa side) in staff seating.
Grandpa and I are divorced, you know. He is a member of the CLC, Jesuits. The man has credentials to be sure. He kids that even though he can do most things in the Church (except Consecration of the Blessed Sacrament and dispense Holy Orders), one thing that he hasn't found in his volumes and volumes of prayer books and rituals...an exorcism for Me! Gotta love the family, yes?
I am a lady. I am a gracious lady. The day was all about Todd...not about US. (But, my white Neiman Marcus suit really kicked) Hmmmmm. Todd read a petition (5 children were selected). Eucharistic Ministers were to ascend and gather around the altar before the distribution of Eucharist. Steve and I went up on the altar. The Religious Education Director whispered to me, "It's up to you, where do you want him? I thought that you would give Todd The Precious Blood for the first time, what do we do with Steve?" I said that he is his grandfather, that he came from New York to get here to celebrate, that I see Todd and teach him every day, let the Monsignor go for it. Father gave us a scathing look. We separated.
Todd approached Father in the circle of Tiff (Mom), Tess, Tanner. His little heart was bursting from the monogrammed shirt almost disengaging his jacket buttons. "The Body of Christ", said Father. He beamed as he said, "AMEN". As a unit, they moved to Steve. With a smile that forced the ushers to use crowbars to widen the aisles, Todd looked up at his Grandfather. With reverence, and pride, Grandpa bent down, "The Blood of Christ, Todd". "OH, AMEN!!! Grandpa!"
My eyes teared a little (five shades of eye shadow and perfect eyeliner with amazing mascara...I contained myself).
After the Communicants received, the remainder of the Eucharistic Ministers (I was one of those) joined the others to distribute to the remainder of the congregation. Todd (sitting next to his Mom, our daughter, Tiff) was centered in the Church on the center aisle, in the front row. Flanking the pew, I realized that Steve was on one side, in front of a statue of St. Joseph and I directly across from him on the other side, in front of the Blessed Mother Mary.
Congratulation Todd! Your family is proud of and happy for you! Congratulations to us for the love that binds us (and maybe gags) in spite of ourselves!
Saturday, May 5, 2012
TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME!
A notice was presented to the families of Centerville, Ohio's Little League baseball players: The players were invited to attend a Dayton Dragons Baseball Game and be featured VIP's in an opening parade! Tiff thought that it would be a wonderful idea for Todd to march and go to the game. As it happened, the date was one where Grandpa from New York would be in town for Todd's First Holy Communion on that weekend and the entire family could go, watch Todd and have a wonderful "kick off" to the weekend!
Grandpa's plane landed in enough time for the game...tight for the parade. Tiff, preparing for the Communion (nails, hair) was running late. Meme, that would be me, was ready, in spite of baking and sewing for the festivities (did I mention that I am also one of the teachers...instruction, practice) to watch the parade..."Mom, if you're ready, get him to the field!"
In amazingly torrential rain, thunder and lightning, we in the car, struggled to get to the field. I phoned the Dragons' Office to ask if the decision makers of cancellations or delays, at least had noticed that there was a monsoon blowing through the Miami Valley. I said that the boys were ball players, not swimmers. The cheerful voice on the other end of the phone said, "Well, I don't see anything on my computer screen, so the schedule is as is!"
My car was getting swamped on the road. I could barely keep the car on the road, creeping along at about 15 miles an hour and almost began calling cadence to Todd, "Row Row Row!" After what seemed like an eternity of taking a pounding by water, the sky suddenly calmed, the storm subsided and Todd screeched, "Look, Meme! Over there! A rainbow!" Arching across the sky was a beautiful rainbow, unlike anything that I had ever seen!
We headed for the rainbow, parked the car got to the corner where we were to meet the coach and teammates...No one was there! Perhaps they couldn't book passage on the Ark, but, a little boy dressed in his uniform and his grandmother (dressed in a snappy black and white outfit, fit to see the ex and look great doing it), stood with the gatekeeper and out of the way of fans entering the ball field. The gatekeeper, who was so sweet and gracious, suggested that we look for our group in an area behind a huge scoreboard/screen. We wandered in, found NO ONE from his team! A few Centerville players trickled in, not many. We did find another teammate and his Mom and siblings, whew!
It was time to line up in the staging area. I frantically texted Tiff, phoned, sent up flares and carrier pigeons...got nothing! Where was everyone? Finally, security told the players and ONE parent as escort, to line up on the edge of the field! "Come on Meme! You can march, you told me you used to march with batons! Come on!" Todd couldn't contain his eagerness, his enthusiasm, his happy anticipation! He looked at the stands! He swelled with glee! The real ballfield, the people, the players, the mascots, the dance teams, the music, the cheers! His little legs were on springs as he began to prance, grabbing my hand! "Todd, I don't have my batons today and...well..." I looked at Todd, I saw the crowd, following his lead, taking his hand, I said, " Smile and wave, the people will cheer and wave back !" We did, they did! He felt like a major league player at Yankee Stadium! We went all around the field, waving like rock stars! He was beside himself with joy!
The parade ended, we began to search the stadium for a familiar face. We found ourselves running smack into Grandpa, Mom, Tess, Tanner! The chorus sang out, "Todd, when do you parade?" Speechlessly, I could only look...a look that screamed,"'REALLY?" Tiff then suggested, "Oh, I guess we missed it?" Have I mentioned that she was National Honor Society and graduated from Wright State University with honors, gold tassel, gold collar and the works?
Baseball registration for an eight year old: $90.00. Tickets for a game: $88.00. Parking near the stadium: $5.00...The look on a little boy's face marching in uniform at Fifth Third Field: priceless! I wouldn't have missed it for all of the tea in China. And, believe me, there were relentless buckets of water falling on the way to brew all of the tea in China!
Grandpa's plane landed in enough time for the game...tight for the parade. Tiff, preparing for the Communion (nails, hair) was running late. Meme, that would be me, was ready, in spite of baking and sewing for the festivities (did I mention that I am also one of the teachers...instruction, practice) to watch the parade..."Mom, if you're ready, get him to the field!"
In amazingly torrential rain, thunder and lightning, we in the car, struggled to get to the field. I phoned the Dragons' Office to ask if the decision makers of cancellations or delays, at least had noticed that there was a monsoon blowing through the Miami Valley. I said that the boys were ball players, not swimmers. The cheerful voice on the other end of the phone said, "Well, I don't see anything on my computer screen, so the schedule is as is!"
My car was getting swamped on the road. I could barely keep the car on the road, creeping along at about 15 miles an hour and almost began calling cadence to Todd, "Row Row Row!" After what seemed like an eternity of taking a pounding by water, the sky suddenly calmed, the storm subsided and Todd screeched, "Look, Meme! Over there! A rainbow!" Arching across the sky was a beautiful rainbow, unlike anything that I had ever seen!
We headed for the rainbow, parked the car got to the corner where we were to meet the coach and teammates...No one was there! Perhaps they couldn't book passage on the Ark, but, a little boy dressed in his uniform and his grandmother (dressed in a snappy black and white outfit, fit to see the ex and look great doing it), stood with the gatekeeper and out of the way of fans entering the ball field. The gatekeeper, who was so sweet and gracious, suggested that we look for our group in an area behind a huge scoreboard/screen. We wandered in, found NO ONE from his team! A few Centerville players trickled in, not many. We did find another teammate and his Mom and siblings, whew!
It was time to line up in the staging area. I frantically texted Tiff, phoned, sent up flares and carrier pigeons...got nothing! Where was everyone? Finally, security told the players and ONE parent as escort, to line up on the edge of the field! "Come on Meme! You can march, you told me you used to march with batons! Come on!" Todd couldn't contain his eagerness, his enthusiasm, his happy anticipation! He looked at the stands! He swelled with glee! The real ballfield, the people, the players, the mascots, the dance teams, the music, the cheers! His little legs were on springs as he began to prance, grabbing my hand! "Todd, I don't have my batons today and...well..." I looked at Todd, I saw the crowd, following his lead, taking his hand, I said, " Smile and wave, the people will cheer and wave back !" We did, they did! He felt like a major league player at Yankee Stadium! We went all around the field, waving like rock stars! He was beside himself with joy!
The parade ended, we began to search the stadium for a familiar face. We found ourselves running smack into Grandpa, Mom, Tess, Tanner! The chorus sang out, "Todd, when do you parade?" Speechlessly, I could only look...a look that screamed,"'REALLY?" Tiff then suggested, "Oh, I guess we missed it?" Have I mentioned that she was National Honor Society and graduated from Wright State University with honors, gold tassel, gold collar and the works?
Baseball registration for an eight year old: $90.00. Tickets for a game: $88.00. Parking near the stadium: $5.00...The look on a little boy's face marching in uniform at Fifth Third Field: priceless! I wouldn't have missed it for all of the tea in China. And, believe me, there were relentless buckets of water falling on the way to brew all of the tea in China!
Thursday, April 26, 2012
COME ONE! COME ALL! RINGLING BROTHERS, BARNUM AND BAILEY CIRCUS IS IN TOWN!!!
I had a terrible few days. I mean, nothing was right, just nothing! By the time Thursday rolled around, I was tired, old, broke, felt fat, suffering from bad hair, sick of my wardrobe, drowning in "Veterans' History Project" Reports/Interviews to type, overwhelmed with undone "things" that need completion, just in the pits! Have you ever had a week like that? I mean honestly? I had an earworm, "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'm going to eat some worms..." That rhyme just wouldn't go away.
An Easter Gift for the trio, my daughter and myself was a trip, on opening night, in VIP seating to RINGLING BROTHERS, BARNUM & BAILEY CIRCUS! Now, I must share, I have loved the circus since I was a little girl. I remember the Big Top! I remember the PanAm Circus coming to Paterson, the Wallace Brothers under the Big Top in Totowa. In Atlantic City, the Cole Brothers performed under the Big Top - I was there! I remember Ringling Brothers coming to Madison Square Garden from childhood as well. Every year, we took our children to RINGLING BROTHERS from infancy until, like tonight? Anyway, I put on my big girl panties, slapped on a smile and the five of us headed to The Nutter Center! The "PreShow" of the Circus began to chisel away my anxiety, my insecurities. The performers were engaging, welcoming, FUN was brewing! Revelers were told to go to their seats, because the show was about to begin...Lights dimmed...Anticipation mounted...after a comedic prelude...
Enter The Ringmaster:
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, CHILDREN OF ALL AGES, WELCOME TO RINGLING BROTHERS AND BARNUM & BAILEY CIRCUS! "
As the Circus Parade entered the Arena, I watched the Todd, Tess, Tanner wide-eyed "raising the roof" to upbeat, club music. As the performers entered and spilled into the Arena, my heart opened, my very soul spilled out in fusion with the lights, the music, the performers, the gaiety! I heard myself say, "Wave as they pass and the clowns, elephant riders, dancers will wave back!" They did! I was connected and transported to another parallel galaxy! I was swept into the color, the spirit of amazing talent, versatile Circus Band, incredible ability and engulfing entertainment! When we were asked to leave our seats and sit in the center ring to watch some of the presentation before the intermission, the clowns made us feel as if they were "saving our seats" like old friends to join them for an evening of diversion! If the children smiled any wider, their faces would have cracked into pieces. I heard myself ooooo and ahhhhhhh, laugh out loud, clap to the beat of the throbbing music, applaud!
The jugglers, acrobats, aerialists were flawless, smooth, able. I swear, they all earned "A +'s" in gym! The animal trainer had an endearing, warm manner. ( I wonder if Priscilla could earn a few of her Kit & Kaboodle bits the way her beautiful "cousins" do! )
I realized that I didn't feel like a grandmother with her daughter and grandchildren in tow. I felt my spirit lift, my head clear! I was a child, I was carefree! The rent wasn't due, the bills were not strewn across my floor (I had thrown them up in the air for God to select which He would pay this month), I wasn't carrying the extra five pounds that I battle, my hair was rather perfect! I was exhilarated, not tired. I loved my outfit, I looked forward to a weekend for Veterans reports, I was light, free! My broomstick was transformed into light, fairy wings that twinkled!
Ladies and Gentlemen, there is "something" for everyone at the Circus! The effects are amazing, the costumes bright, beautiful! The acts are so diversified that if one isn't just what you "love", the next one will win your vote, two hands up! You have a friend at the Circus. The Circus eagerly awaits you! You are not alone at the Circus. You have no sadness, no fear, no negativity at the Circus. If more people experienced the Circus, possibly more counselors and therapists might have lighter schedules. I have no credentials to really say.
As the finale burst forward and the entire cast, again, paraded in the midst of fireworks, confetti, song, dance, enthusiastic waves I could feel myself swell with appreciation. Perhaps we would all be better off (and not experience those funky weeks that I described at the beginning) if we took to heart the Ringmaster's traditional parting words which resonate deeply within my very being:
"MAY ALL YOUR DAYS BE CIRCUS DAYS!"
An Easter Gift for the trio, my daughter and myself was a trip, on opening night, in VIP seating to RINGLING BROTHERS, BARNUM & BAILEY CIRCUS! Now, I must share, I have loved the circus since I was a little girl. I remember the Big Top! I remember the PanAm Circus coming to Paterson, the Wallace Brothers under the Big Top in Totowa. In Atlantic City, the Cole Brothers performed under the Big Top - I was there! I remember Ringling Brothers coming to Madison Square Garden from childhood as well. Every year, we took our children to RINGLING BROTHERS from infancy until, like tonight? Anyway, I put on my big girl panties, slapped on a smile and the five of us headed to The Nutter Center! The "PreShow" of the Circus began to chisel away my anxiety, my insecurities. The performers were engaging, welcoming, FUN was brewing! Revelers were told to go to their seats, because the show was about to begin...Lights dimmed...Anticipation mounted...after a comedic prelude...
Enter The Ringmaster:
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, CHILDREN OF ALL AGES, WELCOME TO RINGLING BROTHERS AND BARNUM & BAILEY CIRCUS! "
As the Circus Parade entered the Arena, I watched the Todd, Tess, Tanner wide-eyed "raising the roof" to upbeat, club music. As the performers entered and spilled into the Arena, my heart opened, my very soul spilled out in fusion with the lights, the music, the performers, the gaiety! I heard myself say, "Wave as they pass and the clowns, elephant riders, dancers will wave back!" They did! I was connected and transported to another parallel galaxy! I was swept into the color, the spirit of amazing talent, versatile Circus Band, incredible ability and engulfing entertainment! When we were asked to leave our seats and sit in the center ring to watch some of the presentation before the intermission, the clowns made us feel as if they were "saving our seats" like old friends to join them for an evening of diversion! If the children smiled any wider, their faces would have cracked into pieces. I heard myself ooooo and ahhhhhhh, laugh out loud, clap to the beat of the throbbing music, applaud!
The jugglers, acrobats, aerialists were flawless, smooth, able. I swear, they all earned "A +'s" in gym! The animal trainer had an endearing, warm manner. ( I wonder if Priscilla could earn a few of her Kit & Kaboodle bits the way her beautiful "cousins" do! )
I realized that I didn't feel like a grandmother with her daughter and grandchildren in tow. I felt my spirit lift, my head clear! I was a child, I was carefree! The rent wasn't due, the bills were not strewn across my floor (I had thrown them up in the air for God to select which He would pay this month), I wasn't carrying the extra five pounds that I battle, my hair was rather perfect! I was exhilarated, not tired. I loved my outfit, I looked forward to a weekend for Veterans reports, I was light, free! My broomstick was transformed into light, fairy wings that twinkled!
Ladies and Gentlemen, there is "something" for everyone at the Circus! The effects are amazing, the costumes bright, beautiful! The acts are so diversified that if one isn't just what you "love", the next one will win your vote, two hands up! You have a friend at the Circus. The Circus eagerly awaits you! You are not alone at the Circus. You have no sadness, no fear, no negativity at the Circus. If more people experienced the Circus, possibly more counselors and therapists might have lighter schedules. I have no credentials to really say.
As the finale burst forward and the entire cast, again, paraded in the midst of fireworks, confetti, song, dance, enthusiastic waves I could feel myself swell with appreciation. Perhaps we would all be better off (and not experience those funky weeks that I described at the beginning) if we took to heart the Ringmaster's traditional parting words which resonate deeply within my very being:
"MAY ALL YOUR DAYS BE CIRCUS DAYS!"
Friday, April 13, 2012
A GUIDE FOR AFFLUENT MEN DIVORCING
There was an affluent couple divorcing after twenty-three years of marriage. We are not here to determine who is right, who is wrong, or whatever human nature dictates about what we have a major gab fest. Fact: DIVORCE.
They had two homes, two cars, two homes, the works. The 50/50 community property thing was no big deal.
Because they could afford that she be a "stay at home Mom", he was ordered to pay that old dreaded (to men) A word...ALIMONY! Oh, boy! However, it was to only last for fifteen years. She, thinking that she was not too shabby, petite, pretty, witty, etc would remarry, thought the entire deal fair...He figured the same thing. (point of agreement, why are they divorced?)
Mr. Divorced now had a quandry. He met a "child"...well, married someone about twenty years younger than he, immediately. (By the way, they divorced after three years and a child, but, that is not my blog right now). He needed to jump off of the alimony merry-go-round. He offered his children $50,000 if they could find a match for Mom. He offered his cousin $50,000 to get Mrs. Divorced off of his hands and out of his pocket!
His children hadn't a clue as to where to find Mr. $$$ for Mom. His cousin tried and came up with a man who needed a few $$$ himself and no matter how much he loved Mrs. Divorce, had to fork out his own alimony for fifteen years and just couldn't swing it!
AFFLUENT, DIVORCING MEN...LISTEN CLOSELY!!!
At about the time the gavel goes down declaring you a single man, you send the soon to be Mrs. Divorced to a health camp...Elizabeth Arden's MAIN CHANCE is the ticket to ride. You have her lipo-ed, reworked, enhanced. You get her "the works"...massages, facials, mani/pedis, special diets, workouts, tightened, flattened, stretched and snapped into amazing shape for a month. She walks out of there looking like a contender for the the centerfold of Playboy. You have an appointment ready for a complete make over when she is discharged from her 30 day spa vaca. New hair, new make-up. Then you buy her the most amazing wardrobe that would make the Paris shows weep with envy. Then, you make sure she has a golf pro, a tennis pro and if necessary a ballroom dance pro. Now you are rolling man! Last, but not least, you give her a membership in an exclusive country club loaded with professionals like yourself with the same basic bank balance, also with the middle age itch, divorcing. By middle age, face it, men are divorcing or widower-ing...lonely.
Within a year or so, because it would not be acceptable to "shack up", or date for too long...you have her married off! You have saved a bundle in the long run and you, do the math, know it!
Now, cheapies, if you think that the above program is over the top...how about a dowry? If the children above, or the cousin and his wife could have mentioned that Mom was amazing and comes with a bounty...hey, hey...you have her married off and you are out of the ALIMONY Game!
I marvel at the lack of common sense in our so-called intelligent society. I am sure, women reading this are saying, "Hey, yeah! You go girl". I think that men are possibly saying,"I never thought of that" and have stopped trying to ask their attorneys to come up with some official paperwork to have an alimony reduction ordered after a few years and are sharpening their pencils to come up with a fair amount to offer as a dowry.
I know that Divorce is difficult, emotional, and so it goes, but really THINK, THINK, THINK and look beyond the immediate situation that you are over and look toward concrete life plans! IT'S WIN-WIN!
They had two homes, two cars, two homes, the works. The 50/50 community property thing was no big deal.
Because they could afford that she be a "stay at home Mom", he was ordered to pay that old dreaded (to men) A word...ALIMONY! Oh, boy! However, it was to only last for fifteen years. She, thinking that she was not too shabby, petite, pretty, witty, etc would remarry, thought the entire deal fair...He figured the same thing. (point of agreement, why are they divorced?)
Mr. Divorced now had a quandry. He met a "child"...well, married someone about twenty years younger than he, immediately. (By the way, they divorced after three years and a child, but, that is not my blog right now). He needed to jump off of the alimony merry-go-round. He offered his children $50,000 if they could find a match for Mom. He offered his cousin $50,000 to get Mrs. Divorced off of his hands and out of his pocket!
His children hadn't a clue as to where to find Mr. $$$ for Mom. His cousin tried and came up with a man who needed a few $$$ himself and no matter how much he loved Mrs. Divorce, had to fork out his own alimony for fifteen years and just couldn't swing it!
AFFLUENT, DIVORCING MEN...LISTEN CLOSELY!!!
At about the time the gavel goes down declaring you a single man, you send the soon to be Mrs. Divorced to a health camp...Elizabeth Arden's MAIN CHANCE is the ticket to ride. You have her lipo-ed, reworked, enhanced. You get her "the works"...massages, facials, mani/pedis, special diets, workouts, tightened, flattened, stretched and snapped into amazing shape for a month. She walks out of there looking like a contender for the the centerfold of Playboy. You have an appointment ready for a complete make over when she is discharged from her 30 day spa vaca. New hair, new make-up. Then you buy her the most amazing wardrobe that would make the Paris shows weep with envy. Then, you make sure she has a golf pro, a tennis pro and if necessary a ballroom dance pro. Now you are rolling man! Last, but not least, you give her a membership in an exclusive country club loaded with professionals like yourself with the same basic bank balance, also with the middle age itch, divorcing. By middle age, face it, men are divorcing or widower-ing...lonely.
Within a year or so, because it would not be acceptable to "shack up", or date for too long...you have her married off! You have saved a bundle in the long run and you, do the math, know it!
Now, cheapies, if you think that the above program is over the top...how about a dowry? If the children above, or the cousin and his wife could have mentioned that Mom was amazing and comes with a bounty...hey, hey...you have her married off and you are out of the ALIMONY Game!
I marvel at the lack of common sense in our so-called intelligent society. I am sure, women reading this are saying, "Hey, yeah! You go girl". I think that men are possibly saying,"I never thought of that" and have stopped trying to ask their attorneys to come up with some official paperwork to have an alimony reduction ordered after a few years and are sharpening their pencils to come up with a fair amount to offer as a dowry.
I know that Divorce is difficult, emotional, and so it goes, but really THINK, THINK, THINK and look beyond the immediate situation that you are over and look toward concrete life plans! IT'S WIN-WIN!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
PALM SUNDAY REFLECTION...THEN AND NOW
Today is Palm Sunday. I grew up in a traditional Italian Catholic home, so today was "big stuff". To briefly inform: Palm Sunday is the beginning of Holy Week. Palms are distributed at Mass; the Gospel is so long that it lasts until next year, as so it went. In all seriousness(for a nano second), Holy Week is the most intense and most important week in our Liturgical Year and Easter ranks as the Most Holy of Days. All of that being said...I'm sure Sr. Claudine from St. Paul's RC School is proud...
As a little girl, I would be dressed in an "almost" Easter Outfit for Palm Sunday Mass. If it still fit, last year's Easter Dress was this year's Palm Sunday dress. Palm Sunday dinner was "almost" as important as Easter Dinner. "I'll do Palm Sunday, here; and we'll go to your place for Easter" was the usual banter and planning that could be heard among the adults. Homemade manicotti (pronounced MON-AH-COTTA)or a basically gourmet Italian meal would be on the menu to overeat!
One tradition that is still so vivid to me: You brought your "Godmother" a Palm from Mass. My Godmother was Aunt Nina. She was my father's sister, really named Anna Maria. However, as a little baby, Aunt Anna Maria had way too many syllables...I swear I heard "Aunt Nina" and believe me, so did the entire family after I enlightened them! Well, maybe except her father, Ralph the Barber.
So, after Mass, before Palm Sunday dinner, my father would take me to visit Anut Nina with a Palm. I usually saw Aunt Nina at some time on the Weekends anyway because I would bring Bubbles (her dog) my egg whites in a wax paper sandwich bag. I didn't/don't eat "edges" and Bubbles looked forward to the visit. He did eat anything that didn't eat him first! But, bringing the Palm to Aunt Nina was special, as was she (passed from this life 2 years ago) egg whites be damned.
The flood of Palm Sunday memory swelled and overran my brain, when after Mass, I phoned home (New Jersey) to chit-chat, etc. My family was together (sans my children and three grandchildren...just didn't work out from Ohio). We all agreed to speak later.
So, Aunt Nina, from my heart to yours, here is your Palm, I thought/prayed as I leaned over my sink and nibbled Couscous and jelly beans!
As a little girl, I would be dressed in an "almost" Easter Outfit for Palm Sunday Mass. If it still fit, last year's Easter Dress was this year's Palm Sunday dress. Palm Sunday dinner was "almost" as important as Easter Dinner. "I'll do Palm Sunday, here; and we'll go to your place for Easter" was the usual banter and planning that could be heard among the adults. Homemade manicotti (pronounced MON-AH-COTTA)or a basically gourmet Italian meal would be on the menu to overeat!
One tradition that is still so vivid to me: You brought your "Godmother" a Palm from Mass. My Godmother was Aunt Nina. She was my father's sister, really named Anna Maria. However, as a little baby, Aunt Anna Maria had way too many syllables...I swear I heard "Aunt Nina" and believe me, so did the entire family after I enlightened them! Well, maybe except her father, Ralph the Barber.
So, after Mass, before Palm Sunday dinner, my father would take me to visit Anut Nina with a Palm. I usually saw Aunt Nina at some time on the Weekends anyway because I would bring Bubbles (her dog) my egg whites in a wax paper sandwich bag. I didn't/don't eat "edges" and Bubbles looked forward to the visit. He did eat anything that didn't eat him first! But, bringing the Palm to Aunt Nina was special, as was she (passed from this life 2 years ago) egg whites be damned.
The flood of Palm Sunday memory swelled and overran my brain, when after Mass, I phoned home (New Jersey) to chit-chat, etc. My family was together (sans my children and three grandchildren...just didn't work out from Ohio). We all agreed to speak later.
So, Aunt Nina, from my heart to yours, here is your Palm, I thought/prayed as I leaned over my sink and nibbled Couscous and jelly beans!
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