Skippyscape

Random Thoughts and Phrases

2010-11-11T23:44:00.007-05:00

Stop digging your heels in too deep Ms Thing. That's the best advice I can give to a middle aged woman on the brink of extinction, surviving on a diet of drive-by meanness, back-handed insults, condescension mixed with a little acid, Grey Goose, minus the ass-kissing olives I've banned from premises. "Excuse me young man, I'd also like a nice slice of Brie with that. I need to smooth out all the BS with a double creme fromage aged in a room filled with phonies."

Thank God I took a course in "Whoop-Ass" while I was an undergraduate at a small, inner city junior college back in the 1980's. I never thought my street-wise value system would fair very well in such a conservative, wooden environment but as usual, my instincts proved me wrong. I flipped my iPod on to the "Slapshots" play list only to find myself listening "Vehicle," by The Ides of March. I felt like such a bad-ass when I listened to that song like a Pink Lady of Grease fame or Leather Tuscaderowho was the coolest of cool chicks on Happy Days. I walk through the hallways, wishing I could pull-off a pair of skin-tight black leather pants, plugged in, tuned out, thinking that this is the cross-roads of my life. If I make the wrong decision, it could prove to be a gigantic, foolish misstep or it could be the leap of faith I've needed for almost a decade. I've been comfortable far too long and that is pure, unadulterated poisen to a woman with big dreams who came from meager beginnings. I've lost my edge but from time to time, I have hit my stride thrusting my acerbic diatribes on those that are deserving. Will my life turn out like a dark and dank episode of Twin Peaks or will it be filled with mid-western love. I can only hope for the latter. I heard the "Dust Bowl" is lovely at this time of the year.

Two Party Systems Aren't Working

2010-06-16T20:02:00.000-04:00

The Democratic National Committee just called my house to talk about a Supreme Court Ruling from months ago. What about the BP oil spill and how I'm no happy about how our president has handled this....and what about the war? I thought we were supposed to pull-out. I've been a liberal my whole life and often identify myself as a Democrat but it's become more clear to me that a two party political system does not work. The DNC's defense was "Well BP isn't an American company," and my response was "if you invest in a global economy, participate in it and embrace it, does it really matter who caused the problem." It shouldn't take our president two months to finally meet with these environmental pirates and try to resolve this with just money. I really wish Hillary had won...I think things would have been a lot...A LOT better.

BP Oil or How to ruin an ocean in one flip of the switch!

2010-06-06T14:52:00.002-04:00

I am not a blind follower of any party, although the democratic/liberal forum is primarily where my political ideology lies. If Obama or whomever doesn't have the power to fix this, then who does. If they make something that cannot be fixed or patched, whose standing at the watchtower to stop these environmental bastards. Just a few weeks before BP's off-shore drilling rig blew to shreds, Obama was quick to say we are going to drill in the Atlantic. I will fight that tooth and nail. I feel like a lot of people who voted for him are blindly going along with anything he says. In order to be a more powerful people, we must be quick to question the "powers that be" and educate ourselves on what's best for the greater good. I'm sickened by this but moreover, I'm sickened by Americans who don't vote or participate in the process. Where are all those naked hippies who romped in the mud at Woodstock? If they really kept true to their belief systems, their kids wouldn't have grown up to be complacent, spoiled brats who care only of themselves. It's just like the war....most people just accepted it and moved on. Sad isn't it? (exit Soap Box stage left.)

THE HORSE BOY trailer

2010-05-11T15:26:00.000-04:00

frank sinatra stranger in the night

2010-05-08T23:55:00.000-04:00

Paul Davis-I go Crazy

2010-05-08T23:42:00.000-04:00

Video Vignettes

2010-04-30T12:24:00.003-04:00

I've been a little blocked lately but my radar tells me that a tsunami of words are about to violently wash up on shore. I've started doing video vignettes because my life has always been scripted to an extra special soundtrack, (no, not play list...I'm old school) possibly even a double album of musical ditties that take me back to a moment. I'm very interested right now in moments of time that have profoundly affected my persona. Some are special and wonderful while others are a bit sad, even melancholy. I never said this K-Tel special was going to be the ultimate in musical genres, but however good or bad the song may be, they belong to my moments in time.

Maxi Priest - Close to you

2010-04-30T12:21:00.000-04:00

The Radiators - Like Dreamers Do

2010-04-30T12:20:00.000-04:00

EIGHT SECONDS - kiss you (when it's dangerous)

2010-04-30T12:19:00.000-04:00

The Police - Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

2010-04-30T12:17:00.000-04:00

Harry Chapin Cats in the Cradle (Soundstage)

2010-04-30T12:14:00.000-04:00

Neil Young Old Man live in '71

2010-04-30T12:12:00.000-04:00

38 Special - Caught Up In You

2010-04-30T12:07:00.000-04:00

The Hooters - And We Danced

2010-04-30T11:59:00.000-04:00

New Beginnings

2010-04-28T23:00:00.004-04:00

Tonight, Vic and I made our way to Huntington's Book Review to hear Candace Bushnell read from her new young adult novel, The Carrie Diaries. She wasn't what I expected....nothing at all. I've been a fan of Sex and the City since it premiered on HBO over a decade ago, yet I mistakenly thought that Bushnell had a larger than life role in the writing of the shows scripts. I was wrong. She sold the rights to television producer Darren Starr and worked on the original pilot script as a collaboration. The show is based on her New York Observer's now famed column "Sex and the City," which not only attracted Hollywood producer's but the devout readers who found themselves trying to navigate the often confusing dating scene in New York City. Eventually, the writer gave in and decided on a television show rather than a flash in the pan movie that may have gone nowhere. Bushnell's decision may have been questioned at the time but her move was brilliant and helped create one of the most iconic female characters of the modern century. Am I over exaggerating? Not at all, especially to those hearty women who came out to hear a feisty Bushnell describe the back story of Carrie Bradshaw, a clique-less high school burgeoning fashion plate with her eye on New York City.

One thing that Bushnell said tonight, spoke to my heart. She said whatever you are doing, do it well. Good work is always recognized. She also said that writing takes a major commitment and if it isn't there, you won't produce good work. I'm almost there Candace. You may not be Harper Lee, but you created that iconic character, which is what I want to do...what I am destined to do. I can hear her voice, I just need find mine.

Off to bed to read more about Carrie Bradshaw and get a master class on how to build a character.

Transitions

2010-04-16T15:15:00.004-04:00

I suppose we all head down this road at some point in our lives, yet we are sorely unprepared for the dreaded mid-life crisis. I choke on my own spit to admit that I am a very young 43 and haven't fallen into the multitude of monetary trappings that engulf most Gen X'ers. I'm still searching for something but I'm not quite sure what that "something" really is or if it even exits. I think I must have been born under an odd, out of place star, that guides me into strange and often confusing places and events. My life has never been boring although I have fallen into ruts and secretly embrace tiny bouts of depression from time to time. Currently, I'm in a state of flux mostly due to my foolish weight gain as a result of my bereft year and of course career issues. It is not my lot in life to push papers and wear suits. I'm the antithesis of corporate. I despise corporate. I'm the product of a working class family with huge aspirations for myself but none of them included the trappings of following "company policy." I can be pragmatic when needed but for the most part, I'm a dreamer, a writer, a lover and a friend. A few weeks ago, I allowed a stick in a suit to intimidate me and exercise her perfect drawl in the language of condescension. She blocked me from tea, looked me up and down and judged me. So I look like a hippie professor or a funky chick from the city but by no means am I a leper. I was off my game that day. It blind sided me to be honest. I was devastated for a moment but then I realized what kind of person she must be. Insecure, pathetic and a follower would clearly define this woman. It's sad but hey, it's Long Island. People here look through you and once they surmise they've no use for you, they move on to the next victim. I'm better than that. If there is one thing I've learned in 15 years of helping others, it's compassion. It doesn't cost a thing to smile or help a stranger. Everyone is so caught up in their own minutia that they can't see past it. When did the helper become the punisher? Isn't that one conundrum we'd all like to figure out.

Mixed Bag Rantings

2010-04-15T00:32:00.003-04:00

I tried to do the right thing but how come they didn't? They're the ones who are supposed to know better yet they chose to think about their own asses first rather than what was better for the greater good. Maybe Timothy Leary, in all his infinite acid laced wisdom, had the right idea to drop out. It's hard being part of something you just don't believe in any longer. I read a quote at the end of some ones email today and it said something about not doing things for the money but to save your soul. I used to dream about being a hippie poet on the beach in Malibu, smoking 12o's and waxing about existential thoughts. I spent most of my summer's barefoot in Cape May nursing chapped lips from kissing random guys in bars and further destroying my fragile liver with any libation that rocked my world. Dollar 'Rocks at the King Eddie has been traded up for $10 glasses of Shiraz at the Brown Room. I sip rather than glug. I nibble at the snack treats rather than inhale the stale Pepperidge Farms pretzel mix at the Chalfonte that I used to think was gourmet! I was a poser of sorts back then trying to balance everyday life with the endless rantings in my head. Is that the life of a writer? Do we hear voices? I remember everything and everyone from my past. I remember distinct conversations that still haunt me. What am I supposed to do with this information? For God's sake, I still remember the damn department codes from Caldor and secretly kept and old wannabee boyfriends name tag. I have it in a box on my dresser. I thought he was the love of my love but all it was...was a whole lot of nothing. Unrequited love sucks. Once you really fall in love, you can tell the difference in a million different ways. After almost 15 years of marriage, I'm just so excited that I get to spend everyday of my life with my best friend and lover. All those other asses that used and abused me, can piss off. Am I still bitter...hmmm...good question. All I know is that you have to go through all the a-holes to get to the good stuff...and boy, I got me some really good stuff! Maybe I'll throw that name tag out. I just don't want it anymore. I think a YaYa Sisterhood ceremony is in order! Any takers?

Vogue...Beauty's Where You Find It

2010-04-13T22:50:00.002-04:00

FLASHBACK: (circa 1987) I was at Quintessence in Albany with Michael, drinking "Sex on the Beach" mixers when "Vogue" came on the sound system. I had a few heavily poured cocktails and was dying to dance a little. As I headed towards the 4x4 dance floor, I saw this toolish guy "voguing" to the song as if he was Madonna himself. I walked right up to him, big hair and all, and did a little dance-off myself, letting the liquor do the work, but he wreaked so badly of Drakkar Noir, it forced me to exit stage left...beauty's where find it!

Twitter Time

2010-03-15T23:32:00.003-04:00

Just wanted to let y'all know that I'm now on Twitter, jotting down those little notes, here and there, when the moment strikes! Follow me at www.twitter.com/reneontheworld

New Cooking Blog Coming Soon

2010-02-02T22:27:00.003-05:00

Although I am enjoying my occasional blog about life's happenings, I'm finding that my true passion in life is food. I'm an avid cook, cookbook reader (it calms the nerves) and foodie although I'm not really into bizarro Survivor type foods like Eye of Newt and alligator scrotum. The site was supposed to be launched last year but through a series of lazy hazy days, last year became this moment. I'm committed to bringing you the most fabulous recipes that have been tweaked by me. I warn you, my food is not for the flavorless palates that plague many nations. You must be brave, enjoy the pungent taste of garlic and savor the sweet and savory flavors I concoct on a daily basis.
The blog will be called The Boar and Baker and we'll have a ball making everything from quick work night dinners to brilliant roasts, crusty pizza's and a wide variety of confections, cakes, cookies and tarts. Look for The Boar and the Baker on Blogspot!

When the Past Comes Back to Haunt You

2009-10-31T19:07:00.008-04:00

When I opened the office door and set my bags down, out of the blue, I remembered that I had a meeting in 15 minutes and hadn't prepared. Waiting for my computer to boot-up could take forever so I grabbed my scribbled notes from Friday, hoping they would enlighten me and refresh my absent minded self of the meeting agenda. Suddenly, the phone rang and I picked it up with my usual enthusiasm, "Old College," I said in a pseudo sarcastic voice. But, then what to my wondering ears should I hear but a mouth breathing, moaning psycho-path who was obviously in the middle of the task at hand...literally (if you know what I mean). I quickly slammed down the phone, flabbergasted, I tried to collect my thoughts when the phone rang again. It was Vic. I knew his number well since I bothered him throughout the day with nonsense phone calls. "Hi. Thank God it's you. I just got a dirty, porno call from some random guy...at MY JOB!" I bellowed, half laughing, half scowling. "Don't worry about it. It was probably a prank. Maybe it was one of the students," Vic said, not worried about the situation. "RING," "RING," "RING." It was my other line. This time I could see the number. The area code was from South Jersey. 609 to be exact. I didn't get the whole number. "Damn it," I thought, frustrated by the University's bad caller ID system that doesn't store numbers. I put Vic on hold and cautiously answered the other line. "Old College, " I said in a lighter voice. "Ugh, Ooooh, Ahhhh, grunt, grunt" the caller moaned and moaned. I slammed down the line again. There would be no climaxing by anyone in 203 Rumson Hall...not even by an obscene phone caller....HOUSE RULES! I switched back to Vic, told him what happened and he asked if I was able to get the number. "No," I said sadly feeling a bit defeated. "Don't worry NeNe, you'll figure it out," my husband said. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"RING." "RING." "RING." I couldn't believe the nerve of this foolish, slobbering caller, with the staying power of a Viagra popping old cooter who had nothing better to do than call a spry 40 something for a little morning delight. Well, he happened to pick on the wrong woman. I'll play along for a little while and then I get mad quickly. On my desk of toys, I scampered for a toy whistle or anything that I could blow in the "handyman's" ear. Nothing...nothing...ahhhhhh something. It wasn't much but I grabbed a wax harmonica someone had given me last Halloween and blew as hard as I could. I hit a nice middle C note but nothing to destroy the ear drum. "Damn it!" I picked the phone up, accidentally hanging up on Vic at the same time. Now I was alone in my office suite, no student aid, no co-worker to save me. I was flying solo. I blew again, this time directly into the phone. I must have looked like a supreme ass at that moment but I didn't care. I wanted to inflict some sort of pain on this obnoxious phone caller who was stressing me out right before I had to be on point. I could feel my face get red, my blood pressure rise and my patience wane. "Blow....whistle.......silence." He even stopped moaning and for a brief, fleeting moment, I thought I'd won, but then he exhaled loudly. Ugh..had he? He had. Oh my God! He caaaaaaaa...No. I can't go there. I won't think about it. I zoned out for a second until I heard him begin to laugh. I was enraged to the point of no return. "Maybe you should get a better whistle Rene'. I really love that black sweater you're wearing this morning. I've been watching you...very closely," he carefully explained. I was paralyzed, frozen with fear. It was the kind of fear that kept you from screaming. Suddenly, I was a mute. I dropped the phone on my desk, never hanging up. I quickly looked out my office window, scanning the parking lot for a sign of anyone who may have been playing a trick on me. Nothing. Then, suddenly, I heard the suite door close abruptly. I ran to my door, slamming it with a fury I'd never experienced. I was panting heavily, my heart was thumping out of my chest. Again, I was mute. Frightened beyond my capability, I reached for the phone. I slammed it down on the receiver and called the main office just a few doors down the hall. I was crying, screaming and pleading with the student aids to help me. My door knob was turning, turning now harder and harder till it shook the entire door frame. "I'm waiting for you Rene'....I'm not going to wait much longer," the sex crazed freaky phone caller said. No need to worry. The students were coming to help me or where they. How long does it take for a college kid to walk down the hall?

I heard muffled yelling and the outside door abruptly close and then re-open again quickly. "Rene' are you OK? What the hell is going on?" said Aaron, a junior at the college. "Open the door!!!!" As I was about to open it, I head a car ripping through the parking lot, brakes screeching. It was a brown sedan with Pennsylvania plates. I think it was a Chevy Vega. I hadn't seen one of those in years but somehow, it rang a bell. I managed to write down a piece of the plate ABH-7 and then I lost the rest. My eyes aren't what they used to be, neither are my reflexes. My stomach was churning. I could feel the English muffin and peanut butter I ate for breakfast quickly rising up my esophagus. As the bile crept higher and higher, my mind was running. Where had I seen that car? I kept drawing a blank, but somehow, I knew it had to be someone from my Cape May days. That was 20 plus years ago. The summer of '87 to be exact. I had a bit of stalker when I lived at the Maycomber....he used to fuck with me whenever he had a chance. I was warned about him from a rent a cop friend of mine who said this guy was wanted for questioning about a stabbing in PA and that the Cape May cops were watching him. He pinned a dragonfly to my door, crushed my "Whose that Girl" Madonna cd and shredded my Cosmo's in the bathroom. He even stole one of my lipsticks and wrote "Bitch" all over the bathroom mirror. Could it be him? I haven't thought about him since the summer of '90 when he slid up next to me on a slow night at Carney's Other Room, touched my leg and tried to buy me a drink. He was in his 40's and eager to make my acquaintance once again. Thank God my then boyfriend noticed the frightened look on my face and quickly escorted me to the kitchen where I waited silently until he got off his bar tending shift. I never saw him again, but now all signs point to him and almost 60 year old derelict looking to get cozy with me all these years later. What a bloody sicko!

I opened my door, only to find a few sheet white students wondering what the hell was going on. We began to speak over each other, eagerly trying to grasp the gist of what just went down. Then, my peripheral vision caught a letter taped on my door. It was hastily written in half block, half cursive writing that said, "Next time, no door will keep me out. I'll be watching you just like I did through the key hole at the Maycomber."

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

American EXPRESS? Are you kidding me?

2009-10-20T22:20:00.008-04:00

Along my three mile trek to work this morning (Tuesday), my 2002 VW Passatt decided to conk out as I entered the gates of Hofstra, where I was slated to speak at a guidance counselor gig in the University Club. As I coasted into a spot, I silently cursed the day I ever bought this black lemon. I do vow never to buy another VW as long as I breathe air. My 1990 Jetta just bit the dust a few years ago...my college car that my mom purchased for me, just died. You should be impressed by that but it just goes to show that things are now built to break...not to last. My husband made an executive decision earlier this year and dropped our wonderful Allstate Roadside Assistance Service in place of the "free" American Express Gold Card car service. What a big mistake! There are fundamental differences between the two and unfortunately, he made the wrong decision. I sat in the club's parking lot for two and a half hours waiting for a tow truck to arrive while snippy little girls from Amex kept assuring me that he'd be there momentarily. Well, momentarily came hours later and after much hullabaloo, our tow truck manly man showed up and quickly flat bedded my VW away. If I had known I'd be basking in the Indian summer sun on a mid-October morning, I wouldn't have taken my beach chairs out of the trunk of my car. Thankfully, my husband came and waited with me over a couple of bottles of water and a box of chocolate covered Altoids. My stress level was at an all-time high. I ended up speaking with the counselors prior to my long wait, which was good but I was frazzled and fumbled my words a few times. I hate that because I'm a good public speaker and I kept losing my thoughts. Ugh! I sucked yesterday but I have a few more chances to get better at this. I'll let you know how it goes. Meanwhile, the word on my street is ditch AMEX Roadside (I hate to even compare this to service) Service and get something that is more reputable. It didn't take much to convince my husband to switch back to Allstate Road Service, especially since he waited and waited and waited there with me for well over two hours. Funny how things get fixed when ...........

Life in Motion

2009-10-19T22:32:00.003-04:00

I think I have my seasons mixed up. I've been hibernating for months, but I plan on doing daily installments from now until I can't write another word or phrase. I must be out of my mind to let my craft slip away. After my mother's death, I basically threw my hands in the air and said, "whatever will be, will be," (oh that Doris Day influence) and allowed myself to be bad in more ways than one. I ate too much, drank too much and allowed myself to wallow in my misery and bereft state. I marinated so much in that sadness that it began to overtake me and that, my friends, is what shook me to the core. I can't say I simply snapped out of it but what it did was make me look deeper into my feelings, which allowed me to release the anger and depression that had a hold on me. I know what's wrong in my life and unless I make radical, painful changes, I'll be stuck in a life that has little meaning. I wanted so much more for my life and I hate to think about myself as 42 and trapped. My marriage is phenomenal...I couldn't ask for a better man to share my life. It's all the rest. I was driving yesterday and heard Queensryche's "Jet City Woman," and almost cried. That song came out in the summer of '91 and at that point, I was 24 and had my whole life in front of me. I was going to write for Rolling Stone you know. I was going to be the next big thing....big big BIG hopes and dreams, but I let my fragile ego lead me into something that was safe..a sure thing. Don't get me wrong. I met a lot of amazing people along the way and honestly, it radically changed my life. Each person I met along this crazy ride had a hand in shaping me. There's always a time when we have to simply walk away. Carol Burnett did it when she tugged on her ear lobe each Saturday night as she left the stage but how will Rene' find her way back to the pages, the sentences, the periods and quotations..........How, How HOW?

Thoughts on Cape May

2009-07-24T23:24:00.003-04:00

Walking along the shore in Cape May....waves crash heavily along the beach...ocean spray in the air....cool breeze blowing in from the sea....Ipod on random....Journey's "Stone in Love" plays loudly in my ears...staring out at the horizon and for just a moment, it was 1987 all over again and my heart was smiling...I'm home and all is well in Oz.

Am I Stupid or Shall We All Sing Koom By Ya With Sarah Palin

2009-07-06T20:47:00.002-04:00

Sarah Palin's religious and cultural views are only part of her foolish behavior. Comments about seeing Russia from her back yard and not knowing the last book she read all play a huge role in the "stupid factor." I'm not labeling her because she's a Republican (and by the way, the only reason John McCain chose her was to try and gain women ... Read Morevoters who felt lost without Hilary...it sorely backfired) or because she's a super Christian. I simply don't suffer fools well and to make dumb comments on a world stage is stupid. I know I'm not qualified to run our government and if she had any gumption and truth in her, she'd clearly admit that truth as well. Someone who attended three or four different colleges as a "Communications" major and barely scraped by with a BA degree has some nerve trying to play ball with the likes of well educated leaders like Obama and Hillary Clinton.

On Sarah Palin.........A Facebook Response.

2009-07-06T14:46:00.002-04:00

Her unbelievable ignorance is what makes her stupid. She may be able to manipulate people enough to vote for her but when push comes to shove, it takes more than a quasi pretty face to run a productive government with a valid set of checks and balances. She couldn't or else she wouldn't be under federal investigation for ethics violations! As we see, our state politicians got elected but they can't seem to work more than three minutes on any given day. If Americans critically thought about each candidate they voted for, rather than party affiliation, our government would look very different and I'm almost positive, Sarah Palin wouldn't even be a blip in that history. On a personal note, she momentarily set the Woman's Movement back 50 years. She can take her Mary Poppins Alaska know how and stuff it in her dead Caribou!

Bloggers, Cloggers and the Superfly Freestylers

2009-07-02T22:14:00.025-04:00

I'm not quite sure why I catch random strangers getting their groove on in public places but it's been happening frequently lately, which leads me to believe there is either some sort of lunar equation in motion or I simply have a knack for finding partially obscene attention seekers. If you think I'm waxing on about sex, you are wrong...flat-out wrong. I'm talking about un-choreographed rapid dance steps that make Napoleon Dynamite look like Peter Allen of yesteryear cascading across any given Broadway stage, secretly wishing he was a cross-dressed version of Liza Minnelli, before their divorce of course! In recent months, I have been witness to people with absolutely no dance talent rock out to the music in their head as gawking onlookers pass by, commenting on the hush hush. Maybe it's the rise of television shows like You Think You Can Dance or Dancing with the Stars that have made ordinary citizens kick up their heels, bang their heads and openly embarrass themselves. I'm not sure of that theory just yet but it is my belief that when people try to imitate fantasy, they usually end up making fools of themselves or at best end up with a spare room filled with late night As Seen on TV junk or a warbled homemade sex tape that somehow ends up in your neighbors DVD player.

My first incident was last summer when I came in close contact with the Irish clogger way down yonder in the vicinity of Riverside and the Boardwalk ala Long Beach, New York. A woman of a certain age (that means over 40 readers) dressed in a lovely Danskin leotard number, with small strapped heels on her feet, held on to the railings of the boardwalk, shoulders straight forward, hands partially folded together that lay against her belly as her legs spasmed sharply, tapping heavily on the splintered wood. The right leg seemed to the ball and chainer while the left one came up quickly, creating almost a figure four yoga move along her right knee. I suppose it would have looked better with a whole host of clogger's but there was only one and to be honest, she was horrible. I couldn't stop looking at her. My fascination in the bizarre was peaked. I was hooked and as my Ipod pounded out dance tunes of the late 1980's on my walking play list, I imagined a beach version of Lord of the Dance with beach cloggers rising from the sands of Long Beach, grabbing the railings and holding on as if an earthquake was eminent. This woman was in her own world. People stared and she flecked. Young couples snickered as they shuffled by on their daily walks while geriatric locals shook their heads and rolled their eyes. It's obvious that Ms. Clogger had either hit a bit of the bottle for medicinal purposes or she was loopy and needed to do the ball change/leg fleck while humming a nice lively version of Mick McGilligan's Ball. Hmm. I thought about stopping and pointing her to the nearest Hibernian Hall but then I thought about it and decided to let her run the gamut of limited dance moves in her cache. She was over before she was discovered. And as I moved slowly past her, I crooked my neck to catch one last glimpse of her slightly pear shaped body, harboring away to the bagpipes in her head.

My next encounter with solo public dancing happened several years ago when I moved close to the Nautical Mile in Freeport New York. On Saturday nights, we often visit the restaurant laden area for dinner and a well earned Ralph's Italian Ice. The mile long restaurant row is packed with a very eclectic group of people ranging from boaters to look-a-like Mafia enforcers with bleach blond broads that look much too young to know better. Next to the the ice stand is a canal bar with an eternal;y bad Jimmy Buffet band that plays an occasional Lynrd Skynd song for the die hard bar flies. It seems that every time I frequent Ralphs on a Saturday evening, there is this has been woman in her 50's drunker than a skunk, doing some superlfy fancy dance steps to the sounds of the Shrimp Shack Shooters. Their version of Sweet Home Alabama seemed to take on a funkadelic beat that rivaled any Earth Wind and Fire song. Ms. Superfly's scraggly graying hair was swaying in the bay breeze as she swooshed her hips side to side and slammed her head to and fro. I was dizzy from just watching her but something inside me felt deeply sorry for her. Alone and drunk on a Saturday night is no way to spend the summers, especially in your 50's. I think her life must have held a lot of sadness and lonely feelings. I'm sure some drunken boater was going to take her home that night and screw her brains out, making her feel momentarily wanted, but when the sun comes up and the hangover hits hard, her male Casanova of a few hours earlier now looks like a dirty slob...an opportunist who wiped away her sweat as she wore the soles off her $9.99 Payless stiletto specials. For some reason, I want to call this woman Tanya. The name seems to fit her perfectly...slightly trashy and most definitely easy...she parades her sagging boobies in a low-cut stretchy shirt, exposing the faded rose tattoo on her breast. Too tight Capri pants in white expose her black thong that bulges out of her low riders making her look pathetic and very desperate. I'm sure she quietly gathered her clothes after her romp and fuck, wishing she had better judgement when it comes to men but then again, she needed it just as much as he did so she brushed those thoughts aside and realized she was still a little horny, dropped her clothes and went back in for another side of toast. Easy to read but not easy to forget. Hey, tomorrow is Saturday, want to meet Tanya at the bar or at least drink some cheap beers and dance your ass off to Blue Beards Brothers...I heard they play a mean Beatles set.

My final encounter with humiliating dance queens came last week while I was on my way to work. As usual, I'm always rushing and running late, driving like a maniac up Grand Avenue, through the streets of Baldwin New York on my way to Hofstra University. This morning proved different as I made my usual left from Jerusalem into Ingram Estates and saw a Latino woman well into her 30's free styling on the corner. It was 10am and I knew I was half asleep but much to my wondering eyes should appear but a Spanish Chiquita outside a storefront church throwing her body around like she wanted to slam dance. I slowed down, stared at her as she did a mix of old school break dance moves and head banger's moshing. It appeared she was not wearing an Ipod or Walkman. I rolled the windows down to see if I could hear any music but all I heard was the sound of her dirty white Capizio's swish against the pavement. I winced as she threw herself forward thinking how badly my back would hurt lest I too fell into the microcosm of Long Island women who dance alone. This woman was clearly in some sort of a trance. Maybe she was in a cult, I thought. Maybe she was trying to exercise the evil demons out of her. Maybe she was possessed. At that thought, I hit the pedal to the medal and flew through the nearby stop sign, eager to rid myself of these nuts.

Sting wrote a song about dancing alone. Billy Idol sang about dancing with oneself and Robert Plant wanted to dance on his own but I'm sure all these artists never thought about the foolish beat that these three woman danced to.

I do have one suggestion for any of my male readers...take a nice late winter's walk on the Long Beach boardwalk next St. Patrick's Day for a private Irish lap dance from The Clogger. Hey, wait, isn't Irish Day in September in Long Beach? You can get your clogging yaya's out even sooner!

Sweet 15, Ol'E and Michael Jackson

2009-06-26T18:41:00.002-04:00

I try to remember Michael Jackson from his pre-Thriller stage to Thriller itself. It just got too bizarro for me after that and although I was a whore to 80's pop music, some of the best memories of my "Sixteen Candles" experience all seemed to hit head-on with one or another hits off the Thriller mega hit album. I actually stopped calling a boy I liked, mid-digit dialing, to watch the world premiere video of "Billy Jean." VJ Martha Quinn's cutesy voice echoed through my brain as I sat, fixated on the boob-tube, waiting for the magic to begin. I listened carefully as I sipped another taste of stale Ol'E out of a paper cup, eating sugary birthday cake while at a friends sleepover. Once I heard the synthesized dum dum dum dum, I knew I was in for a real THRILL(ER)! That lit up stage he walked across as he belted out "Billy Jean" will forever be my favorite song from his enormous musical catalog, although PYT comes in a pretty close second. It's all over and done with now and his world stage silenced, but his music will be his legacy for generations to come. Goodbye Kind of Pop...I hope you rock the heavens with that addictive beat, dum, dum, dum, dum...I can almost hear it now when the wind blows that certain way.

Atheist Mom Response

2009-06-24T16:42:00.004-04:00

About Atheist Mom

Atheist Mom is a recovering Catholic married to an ex Mormon…they are happy, kind and moral people who feel pretty certain that there is no God. Atheist Mom wants her child to grow up to be a critical thinker who lives life in the now…because there is no after.

“I would not for my life destroy one star of human hope, but I want it so that when a poor woman rocks the cradle and sings a lullaby to the dimpled darling, she will not be compelled to believe that ninety-nine chances in a hundred she is raising kindling wood for hell.”

—Robert Ingersoll, How to be Saved, 1880

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

READERS:

This is from a recommended blog and although I don't subscribe to this woman's point of view, I find it interesting. There are many non believers out there but I find it disturbing when they mock those that do believe. If you choose to have no faith, that is your choice. I have never lost faith in God...I may have strayed and by no means am I a faultless person. I strive to be good everyday and everyday I fail in some manner or another but my intentions are always pure.

Here is my response to her:

I'm a believer, not someone who is going to be in your face pushing my religious beliefs down your throat. However, I do feel sorry for people who believe in nothing. There seems to be a disconnect somewhere in your life that has led you to this way of thinking. It's wonderful to be a critical thinker, but in all your infinite wisdom, why can't you think about what life would be like with a God. Having faith in God is difficult for many people because they cant' seem to see past their own minute existence in the world. Believing in something that you can't see or touch or hear takes courage. I hope you find that special moment in your life where all you will have is your faith in God. Just like the bible-belters that curse everyone who doesn't believe, you are similar since you chastise and insult those that do believe. Your belief systems may be at opposite ends of the spectrum but you are one in the same!

Phlegm

2009-06-20T09:52:00.007-04:00

I can't seem to shake this phlegmy mess of a cold I acquired after Vic paraded around the house coughing, open mouth, spewing his usual nonsense, "I'm not sick, it's only allergies." That worked until I woke up a few days later with this thick funk slithering down the back of my very sore throat. I was furious but moreover, I was sick and that was two weeks ago. What is going on with my immune system? I can't seem to fight this heinous viral storm off. It concerns me...a lot. Ever since my mother passed away, I've been battling shades of mourning depression but I've stymied that with an extra dose of vitamin D and extra shots of organic apple cider vinegar. My health hasn't been bad but I gained all the weight I worked so hard to lose last summer and fall so I'm sure my blood pressure and sugar levels are in an uproar. I vowed to myself that this is the week I'm going to beat this ridiculous infection, begin my walking regimen and eat more balance, healthful meals. I'm always experimenting with foods, herbs and spices and never eat junk food (true true true) unless you consider pizza poo poo. I have been skipping lunch lately, mostly because I can't seem to get up in the morning. I'm such a bloody slow poke lately. I'm anxious for my vacation days to get here so I don't have to whore myself out any longer. It's my time to be creative and do what God put me on this earth to achieve. Although my dreams of getting an agent were dashed last year after I made a conscience choice to spend more time with my then ill mother, I'm focused right now. Don't get me wrong, I would never regret spending time with her...she is my heart and blood. Last summer, we had exciting times in Baldwin Harbor with all BBQ's, family weekends, the LB boardwalk and a few yummy dinners at Jordan's Lobster Farm. I'll always have that time, but now I feel those juices running slowly through my slightly warped mind as I embark on a new adventure.

Oh, by the way, my nephew's fiancee Christine, who I consider a wonderful friend, recommended that I begin taking oscillococcinum for my cold. I don't know what's in it but you dissolve a vile of these little white beads in your mouth and within the hour, you are feeling much better. Maybe I will actually be able to get a walk in today and do all my chores.

Mon Anniversaire Mes Amis

2009-05-27T21:52:00.004-04:00

Today is my 14th wedding anniversary. I can't believe it. My husband pointed out at 9:14pm this evening that all those years ago, I was on my way to being drunk and possibly disorderly, breaking every etiquette bridal rule in one fell swoop. A vision in white many said, sneaking drags of Indian reservation cigarettes behind the backs of her family while she slugged down a quick Molson and a few large shots of Jack to take the edge off losing her freedom. I'm a working girl, the kind that cherishes her freedom and oozes with renegade style. People have always tried to pigeon hole me with their stupid opinions of my very existence but I have consistently proved them wrong, mostly surprising myself with resilience and originality. I'm a one woman show. I always loved to run the gamut solo. I was so fixated on my independence, I almost didn't take the time to notice the one man who made me believe in the very existence of marriage. I fell in love with an amazing man who like me, has experienced the ups and downs of life yet managed to push through and make it out alive. He has never frowned on my independent streak. Actually, he embraces it and loves that I live my life by the seat of my pants, acting in spontaneous ways or simply crashing like a bum who lost her favorite bench in the park. Through often hairy legs and pits, unkempt downtown's and ill mannered Period bouts, he has been there for me and loved me through so much. I suppose it's true that you know who your real friends are when things go awry. Living the good life is for amateurs. Those of us that exist along the rim of acceptable social living understand that with certain choices come difficult consequences. I've taken a lot of hits in my day and clearly think that without those moments of doubt, failure, hard liquor drinking and pack a day smoking craziness, I'd have little to write about. I'm not 12 stepper but I am cynical. I never became addicted to anything except the art of being melancholy. It fits me perfectly. I told my shrink once that I loved being alone and existing within the silence of those moments. She didn't get it and I think she thought I was toying with her, but in truth, I was not. There is something sweet about a melancholy moment as it grabs you silently, creeping about the crevices of you mind, leading you to the promised land. I spent most of this past Memorial Day weekend in a series of those moments as I walked through my mother's house in the middle of the night, sitting on her bed, hugging her pillow and crying so hard my belly hurt. And there he was, always there, ready to hold my hand and wipe my tears away. In my most heinous moments, he is there and that's why I will always love him. Marriage is not about what you can get out it, it's what you put into it and how you connect so deeply with another human being on such an intimate level. My best friend and lover is always there for me. I could ask for nothing more. Happy Anniversary baby!

Albany Dayzzzzzzz

2009-05-24T12:27:00.005-04:00

Just a friendly upstate New York hello. It's Sunday morning on Manning Boulevard, the sun is shining and I feel like it's a new beginning. Vic's doing the lawn...spoke to Theresa and Jordan this morning and ran into Maria, my mothers Eucharistic minister who seems interested in the seven bedroom mansion next store that's up for sale. I'd love that! She's an amazing woman with deep faith and a fabulous construction business to boot. It's so much different here and I feel in many ways that I now belong here but I can't seem to leave the ocean and all that's wrapped up in that. I'm eager to begin school again in the fall and hope that in time, all this education will do something profound for my family, myself and my illustrious career. Right now I'm biding time, getting this house ready for summer, my pool open in Long Island and losing some winter poundage. I have a nutty week coming up so I hope I can make it through! Tuesday and Wednesday I'll be Career Centering it and Thursday I have Vic's Queen's College graduation from the library science program and right after to the Central Park Boat House for lunch with the in-laws and my niece and nephew. Friday I'll be blogging from the New York Book Expo, trying to make internship connections and of course, an in for me with the burgeoning book I'm planning to write on the porch of 442 and the deck of 2916 this coming summer. My future is so uncertain right now so I'm going to take all this negative nonsense, hopelessness and nervous Nellydom and put it to good use. I'll always have moments of despair but I think I'm more prepared for that now. The worst is behind me and the best is yet to come.

Busy In Albany

2009-05-23T16:28:00.006-04:00

Today seemed like a hurricane blowing past me. Vic was awoken at 6:15am by our schizophrenic alarm system that blew its whistle for no apparent reason. Thank God for that! Last night I set it off by accident when I didn't close the bathroom window properly and at 1am, the system switched on to overload and let out a resounding squeal, sending me and my sleeping husband into a momentary flurry. I must have angered it so it decided to wake us at some ungodly hour, although I heard nothing since went to sleep wearing my usual snoring gear, Army worthy ear plugs guaranteed to erase even the loudest of noises. Just to let you know, they do. I hear not a peep from the alarm but my snoring husband was forced to get dressed and go out and investigate a possible break-in. What he found was a whole lot of nothing. I think I could later hear the alarm system snickering at our bafflement. It took most of the day to reset but finally defaulted into a nice quiet slumber.

The cable guy came to the Albany house at 10am and left at 1:30pm. It was a big job. Internet and cable phone hook-up, plus an updated TV system. He was an awful nice fellow from Rotterdam and offered great advice for WiFi'ing the house. There really is nothing like upstate friendliness. I sorely miss it in Long Island. I feel like everyone there (I'm making huge generalities but you get the drift) has some sort of agenda. I have never met more backstabbers in my whole life and honestly, many of them find me hick or not quite up to snuff. I'm not so jazzed with them or their "keep up with the Jone's" mentality that, in the end, gets you a whole lot of nothing! I've railed against Long Island for years but it's where we work and play so I suppose having this oasis in the middle of a bustling upstate hood is just about the best you can get. It looks and smells a whole lot like Queens minus the Swine Flu! There are lots of ambulances, fire trucks and cop cars swirling past the house at any given time, especially when I'm trying to have a quiet moment. It's urban living and I love it. If I wanted to live in the bloody woods, I could have driven two miles outside this city and shit kicked with the rest of the hill towners. Farm living is not for me although I am an avid animal lover. This will do me just fine as a second joint to hang in.

My brother Robert and niece Amanda came to wash the front of the house down. It's so nice having family around. They scrubbed and sprayed and now it looks like my childhood home once more. It's clean and shiny with new wreaths for the french doors that flank the porch. Now all I need is some new porch furniture and I'm set to go!

I spent much of the morning dusting and making everything look neat and orderly. My mother always kept a beautiful house but the last few years were tough on her and she couldn't do all the things that she had wanted. Now, I am in a position to do those things and I will. This house is a Goliath, a mammoth of an old house. Built in 1911, it has plaster walls, wood floors, a huge grandma attic and a gigantic upstairs flat. We have to get that ready to rent so time is of the essence. I'm hoping to get someone really great in there to watch over this place, while I'm away.

You'll see, in coming blogs, what exactly this house means to me and how important tradition and family have always taken a front seat in my life. I cried a few times today but I felt her around me. Think what you want non believers but to believe in nothing is never to dream.

Written Sketches

2009-05-22T22:57:00.004-04:00

A professor friend of mine sent me some of her writings the other and day and I was amazed to see just how introspective of a person she is, highlighting what she calls "Written Sketches." Mostly all of them were about the beach, a place she and I love so very much. I find solace when I look out across the vast ocean, as the water meets the horizon miles and miles from the shoreline. This lady friend of mine got me thinking about how much of our lives are "written sketches," and how keeping a journal or blog is so important not only in times of cheer but especially when we are sad, depressed and lost in our own misery.

I only started to blog again a few weeks ago after an almost five month hiatus. I'd like to believe I had writers block but to be honest with my audience, I just couldn't bare the thought of sketching about my mothers demise. Several weeks ago, I somehow found the courage to take the first step and began to shape a piece which I later destroyed. "Not ready yet," I thought to myself, as I shoved something fattening and bad into my big mouth. "If not now, WHEN?" I said thinking aloud.

A few days later, while Vic was suffering through another long and winding night at Queens College, I felt empowered, almost brazen and grabbed my laptop, knowing full well that this night would begin and end with a lot of hard won tears. The first few sentences were extremely exhausting but after a few minutes, the words and thoughts flowed out of me easier than my tears. Only after an hour into this mental madness did I read back what I had written. I decided to take a peek and read. What I found was raw, brooding emotion that was overflowing out of me. Was it the therapy..nah. Was it from the heavens...maybe. Was it from me....oh YES!

It was the catharsis that I needed to open the can of worms that had been festering in me for months. I realize that I have to exercise this grief out of me and to write about my mothers life and death since both are equally important and integral to her story. You see, her story will never end. She is in all her children and grandchildren. If I ever have a child, I will tell them all about their grandmother and what a wonderful, caring person she was. Her life was such an example for me. I fail everyday but I keep shooting for success yet the bar is held so high.

I want to thank my professor friend who turned me on to the idea of written sketches because it added another layer to my writing and to my whole world learning experience. I feel alive in the world again, although the tears come quick and hard. I feel her spirit here with me, guiding me and helping me surf the uncertainty of life on earth without her. Sometimes, when I'm feeling very lonely, I'll call her Albany house and listen to her voice on the answering machine. It's as if she's still here....well, maybe she still is...right here in my heart.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot or How It Sucks to Work in a Man's World!

2009-05-20T19:36:00.005-04:00

I received an interesting job posting via Facebook yesterday from the V-Day foundation. When I performed in the famed Vagina Monologues in 2007, I became a life long member of the sisterhood of V-Day alum and with those sacred rights bestowed upon me from goddess and feminist writer, Eve Ensler, I proudly waive my "I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR!" flag high and proud! The job is to be a community organizer (do I hear OBAMA) and grassroots cheerleader for an off-shoot program called V-Men. I think sister Eve has finally made serious inroads into the "man's world," as she embarks on a journey to educate the male populous on how not to treat a woman. Through various workshops, the hope is to expose, educate and annihilate gender bias, sexual harassment and the almighty violence against our sisters. I'm no man hater, but I can't say I've met a woman who has not experienced the casting couch by one or more of her patriarchal superiors who openly flash their bravado and limp bizkits in the hope their get a little horizontal action in the workplace. Let's just hope Eve's best laid plans can save our gender from more of the same ole same ole! If I have another "bright" guy talk down to me just because he thinks he can, I may have to enlighten him with my brilliant banter, exceptional wit and a big fat punch below the belt or is that the brain. I haven't been able to figure that one out yet! Bring it on!

Flashes of Light

2009-05-19T14:14:00.006-04:00

As I fell into a deep slumber late Sunday night, I never anticipated that exactly four months after my mothers heartbreaking death, she'd finally come and visit me in my dreams. All these long winter months, I'd wondered why she had not appeared to me, asking myself if I had offended her legacy in some way. I have taken some serious emotional blows over the last few months, first with the death of my last living parent and then walking into another adoption disaster, I surprised even myself at the utter steroid size emotional strength that I so mysteriously now possess.

The dream, of course, made little sense to me but at the time, I felt like I was coherent and understood the magnitude and impact of Angie's appearance to me. My demeanor was fluid as I watched her quickly shuffle up the stairs of my beloved Roosevelt Hall at Hofstra University, noticing immediately that she had no trouble breathing. In fact, she was inhaling and exhaling at a far less rate than I was after seeing her dainty smile and noticeable beauty mark that flanked her right nostril.

In the months leading up to her death, my mother struggled for every breath she took. She was diagnosed with Pulmonary Hyper Tension which is a result of heart failure. Basically, her heart couldn't pump strong enough for her to breathe and she began to drown in her own bodily fluids. It was a fast death. Three weeks from start to finish...at least that was the worst of it. Even through the gasping and 24 hour oxygen, her spirit was strong, but her eyes told a very different story. They were tired of fighting. I could see it. I could see it and wanted to scream, "Fight. Fight. Stay here with me," but I could see how much pain she was in and chose not be a selfish daughter for once in my life.

In the dream, there was no decorated apparition or ghost-like figures, just a beautiful woman who looked like the mother of my youth. Her sandy blond hair was piled high with roller tight curls, as tiny Liza Minnelli type sideburns flanked her subtle cheeks. I was mesmerized by her presence and when I finally spoke, I exclaimed, "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here!" before finally giving in to my emotions as we embraced and held on to each other for several long moments. She told me she wanted to see me and didn't care what they said. She told me how she missed me and how happy she was in her new eternal home. I couldn't get over how wonderful she looked and how real her arms felt around me, virtually holding me up. I wanted to weep with happiness and yet cry in pain for I knew this moment was fleeting but I didn't want to ruin it with bittersweet tears. As always, she is my rock, my mother, my keeper even in the after life.

We walked for a few minutes on one of the many flower padded routes around the campus and then she was gone and the dream was over. Yesterday was a difficult day for me because I want so badly for her to come back, but I know that can never be. Four months into this and I'm still not a believer. I still can't believe or accept that she's never coming back.

New Year's 2009

2009-05-06T19:29:00.009-04:00

This must be the year that couldn't, well maybe it shouldn't have. I keep ranting on and on about how I wish upon a star that New Year's Eve was just around the corner and I could kiss this couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't of year goodbye, yet I anxiously wait in the gallows of my misery for one gleaming moment that would redeem 2009 in my cynical mind. You see, I've lost so much more than I could ever seem to win in just four short months. In the middle of a cold January night, in the haze of a deep sleep, I was awoken by a dreaded phone call. It was the one phone call I was frightened of my whole adult life. It was the dreaded death call, telling me that I lost the one person in my life who was always my biggest fan, my rock of strength and the sweet, natural matriarch of my family. She was my mother and my love for her is profound but now that she's gone my love tastes bitter in the wake of her death. I simply cannot let go of her. Grieving is a horrible 12 step program administered by corrupt guardians and keepers of life's most precious secrets, who trick the grief stricken, leading them astray in our humanly attempts at compartmentalize the death of a loved one. No one can imagine the deep sense of loss and pain that accompanies the death of a parent, especially the loss of a mother. There is an emptiness that can never be satisfied. The finality of your family is overwhelming and disorienting. No matter the age, when the second parent passes, you feel as though you are a misfit orphan with no core or sense of stability that a normal family life offers. I find myself reaching for the phone to call her, trade recipes or simply say 'love ya." Her voice is still on the answering machine at our family home, which is now my home, at least part time. I think that house will help me write the book that's been burning inside me since I was a rough and tumble kid growing up on the boulevard of broken dreams. I am the product of a working class family who lived on the edge of badness, in a neighborhood full of regular people with regular lives but the collective experience of my early years in Albany was not only life altering, it was amazing in the simplest of forms. The people who I was surrounded by during my formative years helped shaped the person that I've become. They are the same people who have supported me during these terrible times, have laughed and cried with me, ate stinky Italian cheese and roasted peppers with loads of garlic and olive oil and drank several bottles of cheap red wine while discussing my mother's hysterical, unbelievable, remarkable legacy in the confines of 442 Manning. That house will always be hers. I cannot bear to part with it. She's in every fiber of that house and when I recently visited, I could feel her presence. It felt like a giant hug from her although her death is still so new, that familiar melancholy feeling whispered to me like a thief in the night. I suppose in time, I will heal and be able to come to an understanding about my mother's death but for now, I cry often, sometimes hard and sometimes soft but I know that my love for her and her for me will always prevail. One day, we'll meet again so I can tell her all the things that I wish I could have told her when she was alive. We always said we loved one another...that's not the problem. I just wish we had that one special conversation where I told her how much she really meant to me. I want to believe that she could tell in my actions and words, in my life as an example but I suppose I'll never know for sure. I wasn't there when she took her last breaths but I believe it's what you do throughout a person's life not what you do at the end that defines your relationship. We were a pair of crazies who sang Depression Era songs and laughed till we cried. The last words I heard her speak was when I called her house in the weeks leading up to her death and although she was too weak to talk to me on the phone, she shouted, "tell her I love her," and then everything became silent. No more long talks about food or too many chefs in the kitchen arguments. No more summer tomato salads with good Italian bread or grilled pizza in the rain. So much of my life is dark now but I can slowly feel the light penetrating through the cracks and crevices of my soul. She is there in the darkness with me, walking in the valley of sorrow leading me closer and closer to my special spot in the sun on our bench in her favorite seaside town.

Mining the Fields

2009-04-06T13:25:00.006-04:00

In times of trouble, I find myself yearning for those rainy, gray days when all I want to do is listen to piano music, stare out the window and visualize that my life will somehow make a ballsy turnaround for the sunnier side of the pond. I'm not convinced things will be that easy, even if I'm wishing and hoping for a small miraculous field of dreams to present itself to me during prime waking hours.

Snowfall

2008-12-19T12:35:00.006-05:00

Roosevelt Hall never looked more beautiful than in the midst of a Christmas season snowfall. Technically, it's not officially winter until mid-day tomorrow but Mother Nature beat us all to the punch. I'm excited about the snow and find it to be more a calming affect rather than a nuisance. Small, white frozen chunks are falling quickly from the solid white sky, covering everything in sight, making even the dirty parking lot look like a holiday Norman Rockwell print. Snow storms always have a calming affect on me. It's as if the whole world slows day when it snows, bringing a quiet hush to my neighborhood. I whole heartily enjoy it, especially at this time of the year when we all should be enmeshed in some sort of holiday joy and fervor. I suppose if I wasn't hunkered down at work right now, bored out of my mind since the semester is now over, I'd be home, playing in the snow with my dog Velvet or baking a slew of Christmas cookies to the sounds of White Christmas blaring through the kitchen radio. I planned on doing that on Sunday and I think I'll stick to that plan. I still have more shopping and wrapping to do but I've taken a very calm approach to Christmas this year with the sole hope of recapturing that special holiday magic that has escaped me. I'm not sure if it's the weather but I have this sudden urge to put on my furry winter boots and go out for a mindful, winter solstice sojourn through the frosty wonderland that lies just outside my window.

Mai Tai's @ The Madison Theater

2008-12-16T09:57:00.012-05:00

Something triggered my memory on Friday, making me travel back to those long lost, youthful days of drinking in and around the city of Albany when I was in high school. A friend and I went to lunch on Friday, sipped a nice dry Chardonnay at the bar and then proceeded to the table for a fabulous, gastronomic experience at the lovely West End Cafe. After our healthful lunch, we headed over the a local craft store to search for Christmas decorations and those cute holiday window stickers that adorn most storm doors during this time of the year. Instead, we ended up sniffing candles for a half an hour, trying to find the exact scent that reminded us of childhood Christmas' of yesteryear. I think my friend found a Mai Tai scent that reminded me not of Christmas, but dark, cold Albany winters and how I spent most of them watching two month old flicks at the local movie house a few blocks from my parents house. The Madison Theater was an aging Goliath with threadbare seats that only a teenagers bum could find comfortable. Occasionally, a rusty spring would pop up mid way through the movie, giving you a jolt, forcing out a tiny yelp, muffled by the scratchy sound system and moans of kids having sex in a remote part of the joint. It was cheap and no one bothered you at the Madison. It was a neighborhood hang-out and rest assured, you'd always see someone you knew there.

There was one such occasion when the theater was having some sort of fundraiser for a forgettable Upstate New York charity back in 1983. They were showing REDS with Warren Beatty and Diane Keaton with a lovely intermission included. My friends and I thought it would be great to attend, bring dinner in and have dessert at the theater during intermission. We ventured over to Peking, a local yocal Chinese sit-down restaurant owned by a classmates family. Turns out that they also did take-out and didn't proof for liquor...can you see where this is going? We ordered Pepper Steak, Moo Goo Gai Pan and two huge containers of Mai Tai's to go. We smuggled it into the theater easily, but it's hard to hide the stench of freshly cooked Chinese food. People were commenting on all sides of us but no one knew who had the Oriental chow and as we scoffed it down quickly, we openly slurped our Mai Tai's out of plastic food containers all while watching an aging Beatty play an inquisitive writer during the Russian Revolution. By the time intermission came, we were all three sheets to the wind, slurring our words and sloppily ordering fancy cheesecake with small tumblers of champagne. I was 15 years old and living the high life, so I thought. I was ions away from my life at Blessed Sacrament just two years earlier. I had on Levi cords, a lovely Shetland Faire Isle sweater and a turtle neck with little wales on it. I'm sure I had Bass Penny Loafers on with wool socks and my Etienne Aigner box bag jacked high, HIGH on my left shoulder. It was the days of preppy everything and I was a faithful follower of LL Bean, Talbots and Cohoes Mfg. The Preppy Handbook was my life back then and when I couldn't manage it any longer and plaid pants quickly lost fashion value, I traded my loafers in for sleek black scrunchy boots, curled and teased my hair and bought a truck load of Girbaud jeans.

After chowing down even more food and drink, we silently went back to our seats and finished watching this mammoth saga set in 1917 Russia. It was a non-romantic wannabe Dr. Zhivago. I enjoyed it at moments but the movie should have been edited down quite a bit. I own it now in my own movie library simply for nostalgic reasons.

When the movie ended, we still had a good buzz going and decided to sit on the large, concrete turtles in front of the Price Chopper grocery store and smoke Newports. I hated Newports but beggars can't be choosers and it was a short walk back to casa Giminiani and I needed to get my ya ya's out before entering the house. I also needed to de-stink myself of booze and stogies. I was being a bad little girl back then and I enjoyed the deception. I was good for so long that I needed to spread my wings, experiment with lots of poisons and people until it wore out its welcome. I'm not drunk or junkie so I suppose I was able to outgrow my pubescent urges to drink till I puked and smoked till I puked. I'm a doubting Thomas. Until it happens to me, I am a disbeliever. In 1985, I drank 10 gin and tonics at Hurley's on Clinton Avenue and puked all over Tim Sullivan in my 74' Dodge Dart. We broke up soon after.

Warm Christmas Nights and Close Friends

2008-12-13T22:51:00.004-05:00

I had a few friends over tonight to decorate my tree and we ended up having a bullshit session around my kitchen table over homemade mac and cheese and salad. I needed a girls night and honestly, I need more of them in the near future. I'm excited for the holidays to be over and done with this year, mostly because much of it is going to be sad and painful. I'm looking beyond the next two weeks to spending more quiet time with my mom, my pending trip to DC and hopefully Paris in the spring. I'm doing what I usually do...plan less and live in the moment more. I'm disconnected from all the negativity that has brought me down for years, placing me in some sort of emotional limbo that I always thought was inescapable. Thanks to therapy, good friends and my wonderful spouse, I've come to realize that love doesn't hurt, it isn't bought with gifts nor is it held for ransom. I've always been an innately happy person and learned after my college years that I needed to remove all the negative influences and people from my life in order for me to move forward. By doing that, it left me lonely and although it was more healthy for me in the long run, it made me re-think my exit strategies. I should have handled many of these people and situations differently, but I was young and needed closure quickly or I may have lost my nerve. I learned so much from each one of those friendships and realize now that there was a yin and a yang to my fractured friendships, although one was too painful to re-kindle. I've been a true dichotomy for most of my life. I thrive on being social, while at other times, I relish being alone, mostly to think and reflect. I've never felt like I belonged anywhere, I just exist. I distance myself from those that try and dictate or bully me. Every decision I've made in my life has been because of my me. I've never let anyone in, except Vic. I'm just protecting myself and finding my way. I don't fit in with them and probably never will, which is totally OK with me. I just want to move forward and live the life I have chosen for myself.

Long, Painful Goodbyes

2008-12-11T16:22:00.005-05:00

Sitting in my office, listening to a constant loop of Christmas songs on the radio and my involuntarily tapping to the piddle-paddle of the rain against my air conditioner, has put me in somewhat of a melancholy mood. I don't have seasonal depression or waning vitamin D from lack of sunlight, I'm sure of that. I sun bathed a little extra this summer to prevent that from happening! With all the emotions that go along with life and death, it's any wonder that I can make it to work and function all day long. I spent most of the day allowing my mind to wander and wonder what will become of me once she's gone. Her influence on me has been profound to say the least. I feel like Scarlett O'Hara sometimes, always saving my problems for another day. I suppose I have to accept that personality fault that I've owned for a lifetime. It's who I am and honestly, the process has worked for me to date, so why screw with something tried and true. Everyone deals with death in different ways. I face it when I'm ready and how I do it is my own business. It's not for anyone to judge, cast stones at or criticize. She has been my mentor and best friend since I was a tot and we would eat cream cheese and crackers on the living room floor while watching re-runs of Bewitched and tid-bits of Search for Tomorrow. Our relationship is not complicated and I never expected more than I received from her. She's been a cheerleader for me my entire life and when that voice is silenced, who will route for me in such a selfless, endearing manor. Who will be that special someone in my life? Losing your last living parent is painful and at times, all encompassing. You feel a dark sadness that seems to emanate from somewhere deep in your heart, stripping you of any feeling but numbness. I want to run far away from the loneliness of bereft thoughts and bask in the glories of years past, quietly reminiscing amongst close friends of her big and small success and of course failures. I suppose I'll never forget her hearty laugh and the look on her silly face when she was unable to contain herself. I'll carry her in my heart always.

Happy Holidays!

2008-12-04T19:31:00.000-05:00

Live @ 288 Lark Circa 1982

2008-12-02T22:04:00.000-05:00

Out Sick

2008-12-02T21:28:00.016-05:00

I've been feeling quite lousy the past few days and haven't had the energy to muster up an engaging blog for the masses. I'm in my "sick outfit" which consists of sleep pants, fake Uggs, one of my many pumpkin t-shirts made of vintage cotton and of course, my butter creme yellow cardigan sweater that I purchased in the fall of 1984 with one of my measly paychecks from Caldor. The Shetland wool is still in tact with only a small bit of piling around the underarm area. This sweater is like my sleep blankie, except this one I can wear and the funny thing is, I only wear it now when I feel lousy. When I was a senior at Albany High, I used to wear it over a tight black, low-cut shirt with Girbaud black corduroys, black penny loafers and red or yellow socks. I was stylin' back in those days. I think I was heavily into Oingo Boingo during this period of my life. I often frequented a great new wave bar on Lark Street called 288. It was in an old brownstone and really had the feel of a gritty punk bar found only on the lower East Side of New York circa late 1970's. It was the closest thing I had to make me feel like I wasn't wallowing in the misery of Upstate New York mediocrity. Several blocks up the way was a rustic college bar called Bogie's where I lost my heart and soul through rapid fire and lots and lots of watered down cocktails. My fake ID was a staple in that joint. It was the first bar I got into when I was 17 and it became my home away from home in the mid to late 80's, with it's sticky floors, smokey air and filthy bathrooms and the best live music in the city. My usual routine was to either chalk my license or use my horrible ID purchased at Playland in Times Square when I was 15 on a French Club sojourn to the Big Apple. That experience was frightening and will save for a later blog. After spending an inordinate amount of cash on my identification card, which made me 24 years old at just 15 (almost 16), my friends and I went immediately to a Japanese restaurant and purchased as much Saki as we could swallow. Needless to say, some puked on the way home but I drank white wine and was wise as to how much I consumed for fear of yakking on a school bus, three house away from home.

Back to Bogies....once I got in, I'd order a Gin and Tonic or sometimes a Whiskey Sour to pay homage to my swinging parents and light up a stogie. I think I favored Dunhill's back then and even had a fabulous gold and pearl encrusted cigarette case that I had purchased at Daybreak, a wildly inexpensive second hand store on Central Avenue. A friend of mine bought me a red plastic cigarette holder with tiny rhinestones set all over it, which made me look like an 80's version of Gloria Swanson, waiting for her proverbial close-up in Sunset Boulevard. I took my usual seat with my gal pals, waited for my band to take the stage and scouted out the scene. It was mostly SUNY Albany people as well as "Rosebuds" from the Catholic college down the street. I wasn't really looking for love back then...maybe a quick feel or a strong, powerful kiss from a college guy to hold me over because I was there to have a good time and that meant dancing up a storm, beers in-hand, with my friends. Maybe I was a bit rough around the edges back then but I think I still am. I enjoy that part of myself, which is sometimes street and other times, out of control. It's the very heart of my personality, the insight into who I really am and today, I'm sick and a little lonely, but the loneliness is my friend from afar that visits often these days to remind me that her day of reckoning is coming quick. I'm never going to be ready.

A Side Bar to Yesterday's Blog

2008-11-28T11:24:00.006-05:00

I woke up at 5am this morning, restless and confused. My back was aching from standing on my feet too long yesterday and I couldn't seem to fall back to sleep. I put Newschannel 4 on to catch-up on the world's overnight happenings and dozed off after hearing that more Westerner's had been killed by the extremists in Mumbai, India. Not a great note to fall asleep on but I managed to fall into a deep slumber for a few more hours until I was awoken by the sounds of Barry Manilow singing on The Today Show. Can you all guess what he was singing? He has a new album out with a collection of 80's songs...is that a good enough hint? As I turned over to my right side, half asleep, I heard Barry Manilow bellowing out his best Star Search version of, you guessed it, Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up," at 8:45am. I immediately opened my eyes in disbelief. "What the hell is with this song?" I thought to myself but I must have said it aloud, waking Vic up, who instantly cut into a version of Chattanooga Choo-Choo, a family favorite that Manilow covered last years on another compilation.

My question still stands: How far have we moved forward since 1988? In a time when leg warmers are making a strong comeback, The new Killer's album sounds like a bad rip-off of Eurasure and The Communards and heavy metal is slowing creeping back into our lives (Gun's n'Roses' Chinese Democracy) our culture hasn't evolved very much. Why can't we create something new?

In closing, I just want to let you know that I never owned a Rick Astley tape but I did dance my ass off to his song many a time in my favorite Albany new wave joint called Quintessence back in the day.

Has Been Rick Astley Hits the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

2008-11-27T20:54:00.004-05:00

I was taking a break from my Thanksgiving meal preparations this morning, still groggy from a bad nights sleep. I decided to turn on the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and thought I was having a flashback to 1988. As this float with Muppet-like puppets slowed in the midst of Herald Square, I heard a little kids song emanating from the festive, mobile barge, when all of a sudden, a loud record scratch halted the entertainment, but only for a second. Much to my wondering eyes did appear, a pea coated British singer/hack named Rick Astley who once had the soul and sound of Barry White a long, long time ago but now looked more like a has been. His big downfall is that he looked and still looks like Howdy Doody, freckles and all. He did his big 80's hit, "Never Gonna Give You Up," surprising everyone I'm sure as he badly lip synced his way though the song. Even Matt Lauer and Meredith Viera said very little and I think I saw the signs of a grimace on Al Roker's usually happy face. I suppose my question would be, "Why?" Does he have a Greatest Hits package coming out or is he trying to make a come-back 20 years after his one hit wonder hit the charts. Watch it and let me know what you think!

Sting's Shape of My Heart

2008-11-27T11:01:00.003-05:00

Pre-Funk Thanksgiving Prep

2008-11-26T15:49:00.009-05:00

I'm taking a break from making pie crust. I have dough tucked high underneath my fingernails and am getting it all lover my laptop, probably not a good thing. So far today, I've made home made apple sauce and am boiling my sweet potatoes to prep for tomorrow's big food action. The pie crust dough is chilling away in the refrigerator until later when I peel a ton of apples for its contents. I was thinking about making a Chocolate Pecan Pie as well, but am not sure if I'll have the energy. We picked up a fresh Turkey last night. It's almost 20 lbs. so I'm sure it's going to take a year to cook but we'll have a household of big eaters tomorrow and I do want leftovers.

Tonight, I'll soak the bird with some salt to get all the blood and yuck out of it. Once I dry it off, I'll put it back in the fridge in its pan and cover it till morning. I can toast up the bread tonight and season it up. I love good stuffing...it's my favorite part of the meal.

OK, so now it's evening and I'm starving and feeling like a major cold is coming on, but I have to pull myself together and get this dinner cooked for tomorrow. I'm going to watch Rosie's special later tonight and of course the Obama/Barb Walters interview.

I guess I'm just a little ho-hum about things today since my gig with the magazine fell through. It's totally fine and I'll get over it but the fact that I lost my cool with this amateur after she called my writing vanilla and not publishable bothers me. I've been published before and have written hundreds of daily newspaper articles with very little copy editing. Still, it hurts and my fragile ego is a bit bruised. I'm sticking to the blog for now and will branch out more after the holiday season is done with. I'm bound and determined to write this screenplay and will start immediately after New Years. It's my focus. Vanilla my ass! Now I have something to prove...to myself.

Disgusted

2008-11-25T23:54:00.002-05:00

All I can say is, "Go Scratch!" I've been critiqued by award winning writers who said they were in love with sentences and word clusters that I wrote and this person who in one breath said my article was written very well, also in the same breath said my writing was "vanilla" and that she didn't learn anything from the piece. Did you read it? I may not be the best writer ever to walk this earth, but I know how to write a wellness article. I cut them off, killed the article and will move on. I love when people who can't write well, criticize the writing of someone who understands the gig and produced...even beat the deadline. Gave them corporate quotes, websites and restaurants..what more could they ask for. I'm simply venting right now and so over this, but as a final comment, all I can muster right now is this final, snappy thought.

"I'm am not going to let you bring my holiday down nor am I going to give in. It's going to take a lot more than vanilla comments to deter me. I never enter sinking ships and I won't start now."

.....wait, I think I can hear the small cries of a fat lady singing.

Sunday Ramblings

2008-11-23T22:53:00.007-05:00

My mind has been activated. I'm living and breathing again at the very thought of UE. Could I really swing it and then write, write and write more? It can happen overnight after hard work and then oddly, it may not happen for me, but I MUST give it a shot. One article does not make a writing career. I have a lot of reporting work under my belt from more than a decade ago but for now, I'm a one article whore.

Today, I was a waste of space. I finally "got IT," and felt like crap for most of the day and night. I managed to get to the farmer's market today and bought 10 pounds of apples, all varieties and then hit Mr. Farmer from Orient Point and bought out his beet supply. I bought a rutabaga too to follow with the root vegetable theme I had going. He was cleaned out by 11 am so I didn't have much of a choice. Last week I got cauliflower so large I reckon it was radioactive or grown in glowing green soil. This week, empty bins. This was the last week for the farmers market till next June, six months down the road. It seems like a lifetime but when I see their ruddy, smiling faces again, I'll be thinner and wearing shorts. What a lovely thought to get me through this lousy winter. Don't get me wrong, I love the cold but I'm a bit grumpy right now because my hormones are all over the score board and I'm bleeding like a sieve. I'll be better tomorrow.

When I arrived at home with my odd produce finds, I immediately called my mother to ask her the best way to cook beets. I usually roast them but I decided to boil them after speaking with my mother. I had about 25 beets and roasting them was going to take too long. I scrubbed them and cut the greens off and cleaned those and got them ready for steaming. Once I dropped them in the water, I began to prep my pumpkins for roasting. I had planned to make a wonderful pumpkin soup with homemade broth, a bit ambitious when you don't feel well. After ripping the guts out of the pumpkin, I dumped them into a big, stainless pot, seeds and all, filled with Poland Spring water, fresh sage and thyme, organic onions, celery and one lone turnip. I threw in a few bay leaves and carrots, turned the flame to high and placed the glass top on the pot. Once it started to bubble up, the smell was intoxicating and filled my house with a the warm, earthy scent of sugar pumpkins, just past their prime. I roasted the meat of the pumpkin on an old cookie sheet in my oven, leaving the skins on to protect their inner nirvana.

As the soup came together, I took a break to watch a bad Hallmark Christmas movie with Ed Asner and some hunky B actor I've seen in other Lifetime type flicks. It was hokey and quasi romantic and I went with it, while I stuffed roasted garlic hummus and black bean organic chips in my pie hole.

The sun penetrated my windows, flooding the downstairs with golden rays and much needed heat. The house was quiet and all mine today. Vic had to work an event and left me to my devices, which I relished. I was the master of my domain today and it felt good. The dog and cat were my only company. The best company outside of my husband I suppose. It was a lovely November day all around. I even managed to get outside a little, playing ball with the pooch but I ended that early due to my wicked cramps and lack of energy.

I wish everyday could be like today. Maybe I'll write more this week since I'll have a lot of time after Thursday. I'm determined to do this. I hate writing dialogue but practice makes perfect. Practice makes perfect. Maybe if I write that phrase over and over again, much like a grammar school punishment handed down by the nuns, I'll get motivated. I could run lines with Velvet, she is a good listener you know. Or, I could simply call Bellvue and ask them if they have a good script program on their in-house computers for long term patients. LOL...I never really did like the view from the East Side of the city anyway.

Blood Stories

2008-11-22T22:33:00.014-05:00

I've been in a bad mood for two days straight. This fucking Moon Cycle tea has really screwed with my hormones and although I feel better premenstrually, I've been quite snippy around the house, taking my frustrations out on the one I love. We had a great day today up until I threw a hissy fit about nonsense. I suppose men really don't understand when normal behavior is tossed aside, allowing the hormones to kick into overdrive. As for myself, I honestly have no control over my emotions the days leading up to the bloody purge. I'm half beside myself and half in the bag. I feel like a guilty vegan who just devoured a huge piece of bloody steak. The guilt is overwhelming, yet somewhat satisfying. I'm not really sure why but I'm sure I'll figure that out after I finish the cycle. I didn't drink any tonic today for fear I'll never get my period. What happens then? Is it over forever or will it take years of all this moodiness, night sweats, hot flashes and topsy turvey mood swings to rid myself of this clotty mess. Right now, I just wish it would come. Do I have to romance it out of me or take it on a date? Where are you my friend???? Come out and play wherever you are.

I remember when I was a little kid, around 14, and I was complaining to my mother that I hated having my period and wearing bras. I didn't like being a girl at that age because I was a tomboy and honestly, those pads interfered with my good time. It really ruined my Poison Ball games and I was paranoid constantly that I had blood on my shorts. Thus, my love for black everything! My wise mother agreed with me whole heartily, but she also reminded me that in years to come, my period would bring me wisdom, help me tolerate pain better and allow me to have children of my own one day. I suppose she was right although the last one never came to fruition. Such is life. Tears have been shed. Regrets notated. Empty spaces within.

When I was 16 and didn't get my period, I wasn't worried. I had nothing to worry about. I wasn't a "bad girl." I was a VIRGIN at 16, like 16 year old girls should be and knew there was no way I was pregnant. I was really late and physically felt like shit, so my caring mother drew a warm bath, poured me a huge glass of red wine (I'm Italian people...don't get your tail feathers in a ruffle because my mum gave me alcohol) and told me to soak. I sipped and soaked in my big, white porcelain tub, surrounded by brown marbled tiles with gold flecks. I spent an hour in that bathroom, relaxing and listening to a slightly warped tape of Madonna on my brother Tommy's old Radio Shack tape recorder. I remember it had a shit brown button on it with a brown metallic speaker that smelled weird. After I dried off and put my pajamas on, I said my good nights and headed for bed. That night, I fell into a deep sleep and when I woke, I was greeted by a small pool of blood that had formed on my sheets. She was right AGAIN! I kept wondering if I would ever be so smart or if I could ever be what she was to me...my savior. After cleaning up the mess and changing my night clothes, I walked out into the kitchen, half smiling, gripping my lower abdomen in pain and noticing my mother watching me. She never said a word but through our eyes, we understood each other. We were simpatico.

Happy 40th Birthday White Album!

2008-11-21T13:10:00.006-05:00

BLACKBIRD

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Dark & Light

2008-11-20T21:43:00.005-05:00

Yesterday, the stress came to an all-time high. On Tuesday, I was sad most of the day, worrying about my mother and the fluid that is slowly stripping her of her strength and drowning her organs. The pain began the instant I got out of bed on Wednesday morning. I knew I had sat too much at work in the prior days but I had hoped it wouldn't catch-up with me. I was wrong. After twisting the wrong way, my hip bone moved and I was in agony. I called in sick and spent the rest of the day wincing in pain but moreover I was sobbing for my mom. I cried so hard that I couldn't see. Everything in my sight blurred into oblivion, just like my thoughts. I tried watching a sappy Connie Seleca Christmas movie I recorded on my DVR last year but that didn't help either. I picked at stupid food all day long trying to quell my unhappiness but this kind of pain isn't cured by oral fixations.

My mom doesn't deserve any of this but I must trust that my faith in God will pull me through. I'm not as religious as my mother but I do believe and pray regularly. I suppose God's ways are not ours otherwise I would have a hard time dealing with her suffering. There are moments when she's laughing and talking about cooking as if nothing was wrong. Then, there are those heartfelt moments when she's giving in to her illness, reaching out as if to say goodbye. It's in those moments when the dark begins to take over the light in my soul. Everyday, I feel it encroaching closer and closer to my inner light and it scares me. I can't let it take over. She wouldn't want that for me. I dally in bereft moments, wondering what would happen if I fell deep into that black whole of misery but then I pull back, knowing full well, this is not some experiment you can just stop. Once you commit, it's all or nothing and when it ends, you'll probably never be the same. It's a vast ocean with a swift rip-tide that will suck you under in seconds, pulling you far from the safety of the shoreline. Not even the most experienced lifeguard could save you....not even Vic.

For now, I'll dabble in my crazy emotions, hoping this is simply a phase rather than some permanent condition of the mind. Losing your last living parent is so overwhelming, it devours you. Right now, I'm wading in the shallow waters of a hurricane ridden sea, hoping that the bottomless pit of misery and fear will pass me by. Peace Out!

Hurt Back

2008-11-19T08:14:00.005-05:00

It happened while I was turning around in my bathroom. I twisted when I should have swirled and then, snap, my back is slightly out. I felt the bone move, not a good thing. It was slight but enough to know it is "out" and could be a precursor to so much more pain. I'm very gun shy with my back and know when to stay home and when to keep moving. I'm in a gray area right now and sitting seems to be more comfortable than laying down which goes directly against my chiropractor's advice. It's hard to lay in bed and be in pain. You just sprawl yourself out, prop yourself up with pillows and watch bad court shows, hoping at some point to feel less pain. Right now, I'm in my dining room, ice pack on my lower back, pajamas on, blogging. I'm going to head up stairs in a few minutes to try and rest until later in the day when my miracle doctors has office hours. She'll snap, crackle and pop me back into place and possibly needle me up! Think good thoughts for me.

The Insult Dog @ the Hofstra Presidential Debate

2008-11-18T21:24:00.001-05:00

Boo Hoo "Famous for Bad Behavior" Starlets

2008-11-17T18:58:00.006-05:00

I happened to be researching on the web yesterday for my upcoming article and somehow came across a recent blurb about Lindsay Lohan getting pelted with a bag of flour as a result of her, well...pelt. PETA later took credit for the incident in France, claiming that Li-Lo has consistently used animal fur to perpetuate her LA trash style that she does so well. Recently, the Olsen twins were doused with unknown liquids and barraged with insults because of their love for dead animal coats and accessories.

Get over it girls. Why don't you get the message and move on from wearing fur? How many insults need to be hurled, anti-you articles have to be written or bags of white powder need to be tossed before you realize that your ethics are screwed up and you rightfully deserve a nice squirt of red spray paint across your coveted mink wrap. Let's move on from this nonsense. These girls need to concentrate on their fledgling acting careers rather than make stupid and reckless fashion statements across the globe. What kind of examples are these young women for your daughters? There is a long laundry list of starlets with prescription drug problems, eating disorders, sex addictions, unwanted pregnancy's, and various other bad behaviors. Teach your children well and remember to always set a good example for the impressionable girls in your life. Lindsay and the "Twins" haven't had a hit for years, but I still enjoy an episode or two of Full House now and then!

What a Shot!

2008-11-16T20:54:00.004-05:00

I have a secret crush on Jeremy Piven of Entourage fame. I suppose it's no longer on the QT but what the hell! I recently saw David Mamet's Speed the Plow and loved it, although I wish he had played his character more aggressively. I suppose I'm used to his Ari Gold character at this point and would settle for no less. I found this picture on the web recently and have been holding it in the vault for just such an occasion. I just watched a 60 Minutes interview with President Elect Obama and remembered how much I enjoy people from the greater Chicago area. They are down to earth and welcoming, not to say all mid-Westerners are that way, but I've never met a bad one yet from the Windy City. The picture must be from some sort of fundraiser on the never ending campaign trail. I wish I had taken it but, I can't take the credit on this one. Enjoy!

Shades of Things to Come

2008-11-16T20:19:00.007-05:00

My current status should read: HOT MESS! I've got 10 pots boiling on a range with four burners and they are all about to explode or boil over. The old adage, "when it rains it pours" can be taken in both a positive or negative way and at this point, I'm Switzerland. I'm very excited about my new writing contract which I plan on signing and faxing over first thing tomorrow morning, yet I'm distressed about a few things surrounding the story. I'll get over it, believe me. I'm in it for the clips, money and experience. My moral code is a bit tarnished these days so I'll conform.

I've got so much going on with this new job...really. I'm committed to Women's History Month (of course it's mine!!!) A Green Fair during the Earth Day Celebration and Pay Equity Day. I'm also pitching in on a few other things and well, maybe, this is going to be my life for the next eight months. It's important to me to do not only well, but out of the ballpark well. I can settle for no less. I'm trying to sign Anita Hill, Michael Bloomberg, Geraldine Ferraro, Chuck Schumer, Hillary (no last name needed) and a variety of other people who can push my agenda's. This is a growing and learning time for me so for the first time in almost 14 years, I'm doing something to catapult my professional career rather than help students excel at theirs. I'm not sure how I feel about this sudden and unnatural change, however I've learned to become a flexible, critical thinker who often takes council from those around me...at least the ones that matter. Giving this new job a try is just what I'm doing and although I'm not interested in new real estate, I've promised myself that I will bend in favor of myself this time and be a little selfish. It's not in my nature to behave in such a way. I actually find it repulsive most of the time but I've given this much thought and realized that I gave up so much of myself for others for almost 15 years, it's time to really make myself a priority, especially in the workplace. I'm done with catty nonsense in the workplace...did that, failed, learned...moved on! I'm all about peace, love and green tea! Now is the time for serious planning, blowing people out of the water and exceeding the stringent goals I have set up for myself that will impact my career for years to come. This week will be stressful but I have a lot of support from the dog and cat, and of course my husband that never reads my blog (he says it's because I read them to him before I post...whatevs! I love you anyway!) but encourages me to write everyday. Boho is the first step in a journey of a thousand miles ( I think that's a JFK quote) so get ready...if it doesn't get cut, I'll be in January's issue.

Joni's Blue...it's just the kind of mood I'm in

2008-11-15T21:17:00.002-05:00

Blue, songs are like tattoos

You know Ive been to sea betore

Crown and anchor me

Or let me sail away

Hey blue, here is a song for you

Ink on a pin

Underneath the skin

An empty space to fill in

Well therere so many sinking now

Youve got to keep thinking

You can make it thru these waves

Acid, booze, and ass

Needles, guns, and grass

Lots of laughs, lots of laughs

Everybodys saying that hells the hippest way to go

Well I dont think so

But Im gonna take a look around it though

Blue, I love you

Blue, here is a shell for you

Inside youll hear a sigh

A foggy lullaby

There is your song from me

Will Hillary Be the Next Secretary of State??

2008-11-14T23:40:00.000-05:00

Sick Day

2008-11-14T19:12:00.012-05:00

I must have had some bizarre 24 hour flu bug clinging to my immune system yesterday, leaving me exhausted, feverish and completely disoriented. I felt like I was having some sort of unearthly out-of-body experience, similar to vertigo, yet not quite as severe. Like some cheap drunk with a shot of speed, I wandered into my acupuncturists office searching for some holistic meds and a couple of needles to straighten me out. Dr. Perretta is a miracle worker my friends. She is not only a chiropractor extraordinaire, but a Chinese medicine doctor, hitting all my vital channels and energy points with precision and expertise. Yesterday she treated one particular point on my lower leg that helps compromised immune system's, allowing your Chi run freely through your body. Wellness and maintenance of your body is important to keep the energy at a maximum level. She told me that the Chinese believe that if that point is needled everyday, you'll live to be 100. I could handle that as long as my health was in optimum form.

Anyway, I'm feeling so much better today and I honestly believe that my natural cure-all's helped expedite and rid my body of the germy foreign invaders that resided me to complete bed rest last evening. I also indulged in several packs of Emergen-C, dosing myself up with loads of vitamin C and B12.

I stayed in my nightie till noon today, watching a parade of shows ranging from Today to The Waltons, to my all time guilty pleasure and the show everyone loves to hate...The View. The Hot Topics portion of the show is the best. It's the time when they all seem to fight about the issues and of course, the all-important air time they get with each kindergarten response. I think my favorite is Joy Behar, comic turned pop political pundit, who eats and breaths liberalism, at least that's what she portrays on the show. Mostly, I enjoy her Catskill comic delivery and Borscht Belt jokes, leaving me no alternative than to call her a hack with much love and delight. As you know, I was a huge fan of Rosie O'Donnell on the show and basked in sweet emotion when she slayed Elisabeth Hasselback and her right wing agenda on live television. You couldn't ask for better t.v. I still have it on my DVR and play it every once in a while when I've had a horrible day at work and want to take out a co-worker with not only words, but those coveted, infamous dirty I keep locked away in the vault for safe keeping. The lesson learned from that particular incident was keep friends close and your enemies off FOX News! LOL!

After The View, a few shots of V-8 and a couple of Tylenol, I took a hot, steamy shower and got ready for my therapy session. I didn't want to cancel. I'm committed to my recovery and devoted to my empowerment. I am finally on the doorstep of being the woman I have always dreamt of becoming. I am ushering in a new phase of my life with risks, hard work, belief in myself and with the guidance of my doctor, a brand new outlook for my future. Today, I spent most of my session crying about my mother's illness, wishing that I'd wake up from this bloody nightmare and all would be well in Rene's kingdom. Ha! If life were so simple and easy. It's hard to relinquish control of a person and their illness. How do you let go of someone so precious and special in your life? Can you ever recover from such a loss or are you forever adrift on a sea of bereft moments, shadowed by glimpses of empathy and hope that one day you will reunited with that soul in the Light. I think death comes when the eyes close and instead of darkness, you see nothing but Light...the Light of God, welcoming you into paradise. And when the tears begin to flow with a massive outpouring of emotion, you can either let it paralyze and engulf you or you can follow their Light which will forever remain in your heart of hearts, glowing and beaming for years to come. I choose the Light...her Light.

First Writing Contract

2008-11-13T12:11:00.003-05:00

I'm so damn excited to be in receipt of my first free-lance writing contract. I worked for a daily newspaper back in the 1990's and covered everything from murder's to political campaigns and chocolate festivals, but it didn't have the same ring-a-ding-ding as the title of free-lance writer. It's taken me a long time to take this step in my writing career and I honestly regret all the wasted time I spent debating whether or not I had the chops to make it in this field. I'm convinced now but not because I got hired as a writer, but because the words are flowing out of me so easily now. There is nothing holding me back this time out. I wish I could be 41 forever. I know that sounds crazy, especially when most people in this country spend thousands of dollars to recapture their youth. I'm wiser, more confident and feel as though the world is within my reach. I'm there, its been confirmed. I'm a writer! Look for me soon in boho magazine.

Something in the Way She.....

2008-11-12T22:18:00.008-05:00

I've been crying a lot recently, probably due to my over 40's hormonal changes but mostly because my mother is gravely ill, yet still a feisty woman of stature and grace. Her honest eyes tell most of her story the moment you meet her. Crystal blue flames dart from her lovely face, just as they did when I was a small child and mesmerized by her beauty. She has been my caretaker, fan, supporter and rock for 41 and a half years, for which I will always be grateful but moreover, lucky to have had such a wonderful woman to call my mother.

We are a pair of silly hearts that love to cook, shop at flea markets, tag sales, make jewelry till all hours of the night and scour health magazines for the latest holistic cure all's of the day. She tries all my crazy tea remedies and laughed when I suggested she sample my newest find, Moon Cycle Tea which promotes hormonal harmony and balance. As she giggled heartily at my suggestion, I wondered if she only went along with my tea remedies because she was glad I had graduated up from my rock therapy days. I remember being in the back room of my office, lying flat on the floor, with a wide array of crystals, rocks and granite hunks in hand, while my open minded student aid Liza watched me try and figure out what chakra needed mending. I usually ended up throwing some sort of stone on my third eye for enlightenment since I could never locate the right energy channel to rev up my lagging system. The tea is much easier.

I got her hooked on a organic apple cider vinegar shots every morning, along with a healthy dose of cinnamon to help balance your sugar metabolism and fight everyday depression. I think my mom spent most of her days at Gingerbread Farm (my house) reading books by Dr Weil, hoping for a miracle cure. Her zest for life is contagious if not exuberant. Her will to live is strong and she has basically sold me on the fact that she will continue to fight till the bitter end. Sometimes her feisty behavior gets her in trouble both in and outside our family but she plods ahead, forging on with her fight. I admire that kind of will power. I've always looked for the easier way out of things so there is little suffering to go on. My mother has no fear, never has. I think her only regret in life is not having a fireplace to call her own, a minor bump in the road of life.

Inspiration

2008-11-12T16:23:00.001-05:00

Class Wars

2008-11-11T20:16:00.023-05:00

I'm alas, a proud middle-class woman who understands her place in the world. I rose up from the working-class neighborhood that shaped much of who I am today and fondly look back on those years in Albany New York. My father was a hard-working union man who spent most of his adult life knee deep in mud, working on various construction sites around the state as a Boilermaker. He never graduated from high school, quitting after ninth grade to help support his 10 brothers and sisters during the Great Depression. Benefiting from FDR's initiatives to get America to work, he dug ditches in the WPA and CCC corps, lived on his own by the age of 15 and got a job on the railroad, forcing him to leave his beloved Pennsylvania for the urban streets of Albany. Although we had a very tumultuous relationship, my father always taught me to strive for the very best in life, whatever that may be. His vision of the world was much different than mine, probably because we were exactly 50 years apart, more than a generation. The gap was far too great for us to agree to disagree, although we both knew that our vision of democracy was similar, if not the same. My father ate, drank and slept politics. He regularly devoured the daily newspaper and whatever news magazines he could get his hands on. We came together in the political arena, finding a shaky common place where we agreed that Richard Nixon was a crook, Jimmy Carter was far more than a peanut farmer from Georgia, Ronald Reagan had the best head of hair in his generation...a particularly sore spot for my father since he lost most his hair back in the late 1950's albeit a small black swirly curl at his widow's peak he regularly combed. When Michael Dukkakis lost to George H. Bush in the late 1980's, our Democratic dream was fiercely deflated, yet not deferred. We still held out hope for the future, but my dad did not live to see the nations next president take office. He died as a result of his job. My father suffered a miserable, lousy death because he dreamt of a better life. He made it to the middle-class but didn't live long enough to enjoy the spoils of his minor riches. His spirit throughout his illness was untamed and he became an inspiration for me to live my life outloud and dream big. Dying in March of 1990 of advanced lung cancer due to Mesthelioma, profoundly changed my life agenda, leaving me lost at the age of 23.

I had big dreams for myself, planning to attend law school in New England, then making my way through the local and state political circuit only to find myself basking in the glories of the national political scene as a women's advocate, fighting the fight for those without a voice and empowering my generation. Well, obviously that particular dream of my idealistic youth did not materialize and somehow I never felt derailed or misguided. I mysteriously became an academic dean, much to my surprise, doling out pop psychology advice to the masses and indulging myself in the wonder of their young lives. I suppose I'll never feel bad about not having kids because I mothered many of my students whom I still keep in close contact with. I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to help them with their studies and shape their lives. I can't say that enough, because in return, they gave me love and support, friendship and smoking partners. We laughed and cried in the confines of 203 Roosevelt...if those walls could talk!

Today, I had a wonderful encounter with a student named Carlos who looked around my room and told me he loved all the memorabilia. I told him that it was pieces of my life as art. Carlos said I must be living some life and in that special, unexpected moment late this afternoon, I had a slight epiphany, realizing I've had many more triumphs than defeats. Making me smile and reminiscent, I engaged in a spirited and lively conversation with Carlos where we discussed music, travelling and his pending trip to Europe. I must admit that I envy his youth, lack of responsibility and an unbridled passion, yet I cling tightly to my current ideals, middle-aged wisdom and slightly saggy boobs (I get more cleavage now!).

I wallow in my middle-class life. I laugh at the hoity North Shore people who think they live far above the proverbial Mason-Dixon Long Island dividing line that separates the nouveau riche class system that makes up this God forsaken sand spit. Old money is so much classier and honestly, when will people in this county realize that money doesn't make the person, it only makes you dress better. You cannot purchase class or good taste. I could make millions someday but in my heart of hearts, I'll always fall back on my working/middle class ideals that I was raised with even though my tax bracket may say otherwise. Money breeds evil, greed and selfishness. It's not going to change my life because I am defined solely by my thoughts, actions, empathy towards others and these words that flow endlessly from my mind to the tip tap of my fingers on the keys of this computer. You cannot label me, fit me into any box or strip me blind of my thoughts. These earthly possessions are of no importance to me, although I enjoy a good shoe like most of my girl friends! I would spread my wealth to the homeless man who lives on the north side of Millburn Avenue that I pray for every morning or the tree scratcher guy living down the street who is obviously mentally ill or a foster child that will otherwise be lost in a system of crap. I'm going to help, no matter what my financial situation is and I don't need funds to carry out my plan. I'm Rene' in the middle, living my life on my terms, taking too much time to smell the roses and nip the tonic, centering my life around chaos that keeps me alive, away from suburban bullshit, annoying soccer mom's and a cast system that forces me into being some sort of unattainable superwoman. I'd rather struggle in the lower classes than be some bourgeois Islander who listens to scratched Michael Bolten cd's and sneaks cigarettes on the side. It's the grittier side of me that still enoys the kill and if I no longer had work or play hard, I'd wither away into some kind of hunchbacked ooga booga with an entitled attitude, AMEX Platinum card and a gas guzzling Hummer. Fear and loathing in Long Island!

Quantam Leap

2008-11-10T16:19:00.007-05:00

Did you ever stare blankly at something till it blurred beyond recognition? I always wonder what my face looks like when I completely zone out and trip the light fantastic in the confines of my own mind. I've been doing that a lot lately, probably due to my mother's ongoing health issues and the fact that I've struggled for years with self-doubt. Most people think I'm a confident, strong woman which I am most of the time but it's taken me years to get to that place in my life. Those who are in my inner circle know a different "girl" who fears anything that has responsibility attached. I'm open about it and feel little shame when discussing the issue. Actually, I'm down right matter of fact about it, unleashing a untamed fury that would devour others, yet in my case, the issue has become more of a silent partner in crime. It's that other voice in your head that frowns when you laugh and sobs when you feel at peace. I like to think it's shaped many of my warped perceptions, which in the long run, make me a much more interesting writer than someone who has lived a boring and mundane vanilla life. I hate vanilla. I never want to be vanilla. I fear vanilla.

The crossroad that I have encountered is disturbing, leaving me teetering between solid ground and unearthly expectations by my family. I'm on the edge of something big but the weight of my mother's illness is beginning to encroach on my ability to stabilize this crazy time machine I've been riding in for years. I can't seem to get off or buy a ticket to a new amusement. I'm stuck in a proverbial shit house of muck and feel the quicksand of responsibility all over my body, tearing at my skin like a leach that hasn't been fed in months. Everybody wants a piece of my pie and right now, this very moment in my life, I want to be selfish, self-interested and peaceful. I want to sit around my house in dirty underwear listening to Ryan Adams, Bob Dylan and The Grateful Dead. I want to tell stories till I can no longer utter a word and write till my fingers blister and bleed. I want to call myself a writer, historian, gatekeeper and politician. I drink Yogi tea everyday and on each tea bag is a little inspirational note to lift your spirits as you guzzle vats of green tea. I keep getting the same one, "Your destiny is to merge with infinity." Hmmmm. Could it be true? Am I that out there that I'm relying on fortune telling techniques of some ashram lover who writes bad poetry on the side? The answer is a loud yes! When I was a little kid, I had a paper route and I practiced my own version of fortune telling. There were no Tarot cards or Ouija boards involved, just my paper folding and throwing techniques. Depending on how tight I wrapped the paper and where it landed when I threw it, determined the outcome of my Magic 8 Ball-like questions. I've never been one to dally in the black arts but I practiced that everyday when I had crushes on boys in my Catholic school, wishing that I would find my love of a lifetime. Little did I know, it would take more than a few folded papers and a good arm to find the right guy for me. Oh well, I suppose I had fun, even if my fortune findings didn't add up to much. In conclusion, the only advice I can offer my sorry ass is to keep truckin' and hope for the best. My destiny is out there somewhere, hiding. Maybe it's in New York or in the bathroom of a truck stop in Barstow or maybe it's in the love I share with Vic. It's somewhere I know it. God wouldn't trick me like this and I know I don't suffer from delusions of gradeur although at times I question that. Right now, I'm hoping for the best because without that added piece of motivation, I have little to offer.

I Want to Hear From You!

2008-11-09T23:29:00.006-05:00

Since I shared my Election Day voting experience with you, I'd love to hear your stories. I know our side won, but it's important to document all experiences, feelings and emotions tied to this very important election. I collected a large amount of Hillary and Obama political paraphernalia this time around including pins, stickers, signs and the all-important "day after" New York Times, which is now being auctioned off on e-bay for in upwards of $300. I packaged everything up today and put it in a container with my Howard Dean and John Kerry pins from 2004, putting to rest my election stress for another four years. I'm not sure how I'll feel about Obama in 2012 but for now I'll remain loyal and enjoy the upcoming inauguration and swaring in ceremonies for the parade of Democrats that will soon control our government. I just hope they don't screw it up like the did back in 76'. Jimmy Carter was president and we had a democratically controlled House and Senate. Nothing got done and they pretty much stymied Carter's presidency. He ended up being a better humanitarian than president...says something about his prior employment doesn't it?

As you can tell, I'm somewhat of a cynic and perpetually fickle for my politicians that I temporarily worship until they fuck up and tragically stray from their original platforms that initially sold me on them. I'm realistic about what and who can do what when. I do think Obama has a knack for pulling people from all races and creeds together, and honestly, that would be enough for me right now. Maybe if we weave a little harmony into our daily routines, we can negate all the bitterness that has built up since the beginning of the Bush years. It's going to take a lot of work, but Americans come from a hardy lot and have overcome worse national tragedies and economic disasters than this. While jobs may be scarce for the next few months, there is a strong sense of hope for the future and if that's not enough for you nay-sayers out there, well than I suppose you can piss off and go cry in your beers with the rest of the McCain supporters. This lefty is going to be cheering the Big O on for many months to come. What do we have if we no longer have dreams?

We Are the Ones.....

2008-11-05T22:32:00.001-05:00

Here's A Shout Out to a Dear Friend and Fellow Blogger

2008-11-05T20:29:00.004-05:00

Just a shout out to Christine Longo, a former student and dear friend of mine who has inspired me for years and will continue to do so for many more. I met her several years ago while she was struggling in another part of Hofstra, unhappy in her educational experience. We spoke on the phone while she was in the hospital with a broken leg (a funny story I'll save for a later date) and we've been buds ever since. A few years ago, we starred in the Vagina Monologues together (me as the anti-war woman and her as the C..nt). She is the epitome of a New College student...progressive, forward thinking, outspoken and driven. They may have killed the messenger, but they can't kill the spirit. Viva la New College!

Check out her new blog at http://www.clovision.blogspot.com/

Support women writers and bloggers!

Peace & Obama...Rene'

A Liberal Response

2008-11-05T15:33:00.004-05:00

This blog is in response to an email sent to me recently.

I wasn't going to respond to your email simply because I don't share your vision of the world but then I realized that this needed to be addressed. Liberalism does not, as you say, victimize people, it gives Americans an alternative to conservatism, something I will never identify with. I'm not rich, don't belong to a country club, have friends of all colors, sexual orientations and religions and support gay marriage. This is a democracy which ensures the right that all people are created equal and have a right to live their lives in any manner that they chose. To simply write off poor people as "do nothings" is a broad sweeping statement and a bit too Fox News for my taste. When you meet people who have been in cyclical social welfare programs, you find many of them to be poor women with children who have been mortally disenfranchised by our country and by the social programs that offer nothing but "time-outs" and little professional training. How do you expect someone who lives in a project to succeed in life? It's possible on case by case situation but is it realistic for the masses? Their road to success is far different than yours or mine and I am empathetic to that plight. If you don't have people around you that support your life, it's difficult to break out of particular types of lifestyles. I grew up in an Italian working/middle class household and unless a ton of money falls on my head, I'm going to stay middle class. You can be determined and focused all you want, but if live in an environment that does not promote education or success, you run the risk of succumbing to the negative forces that surround you.

I have no issue paying more taxes to help out the poor of our nation but what I do have a problem with is paying for this war. I would never write a check for death and destruction, murder, rape and torture, but I suppose that's what we've all been doing for the last eight years. If given a choice, I'm sure most Americans that live in progressive areas of the country would stop payment on that check...once and for all!

Obama was not my first choice in the beginning but when I opened my mind to him, his philosophies began take root. John McCain is a not such a wonderful person (read the Rolling Stone article and I'm sure you'll not feel the same way) and being tortured does not give you carte blanche to be the president. America needs to be healed from all the horrible things that have happened over the last eight years of a Bush administration. He is the worst president we have ever had and I've protested against him since the very beginning. Conservatives use fear and religion as their platform, which sickens me! They say they support life (pro life) yet they support the death penalty and oil wars. Over four thousand Americans and countless innocent Iraqi's have died because of his vile lies. Saddam Hussein had been evil for decades and if you research, you'll find out that America gave him plenty of weapons in the late 1970's and early 80's to fend off Iran, our then arch enemy. He was committing genocide on his own people for years before we intervened.

I'm sure that Obama is more than a good speaker. His story is what you say you respect....someone who came from nothing to be educated in Ivy League schools and to become the first black president of the USA. His wife has a similar story. They both credit their families for their amazing success and honestly, if all those "do nothing" people had that type of support everyday, they would probably be out there clambering for jobs with the rest of us poor slobs. I believe that an Obama presidency will usher us into a new decade of hope, where capitalism and greed will not rise to the forefront as it has done in the past. He's not a miracle worker but he's exactly what we need to bring people together rather than perpetuate the divisive behaviors and ideologies that have literally torn our nation in two. Don't be afraid of the left, the water is much warmer on this side of the fence!
Rene'

PRESIDENT OBAMA!!!

2008-11-04T23:23:00.002-05:00

AMERICA'S FIRST BLACK PRESIDENT!

The Promised Land

2008-11-04T21:50:00.005-05:00

We are all so close right now...close to the Promise Land that Martin Luther King Jr. spoke of 40 years ago. The healing has begun in our nation and as I watch the colors on the map turn to blue, I realize that an Obama presidency not only means the divisiveness is coming to a close but we as a nation can move forward in a progressive fashion to a new world order with Obama at the helm.

Obama has energized the base of the Democratic Party as well as the disenfranchised portions of our population who have finally engaged in the process. He made them believe in hope and change, just like he did with me. Let me be the first to admit that this was not Hillary's time, as much as I would have liked it to be. Right now, America needs a healer who can reach out to all Americans with a true message of change...change from the last eight years of Republican torture. America is ready for this presidency. We've been waiting for this for a long time but now is really Obama's time. I feel proud to say that I voted for him. He truly is, The One.

Palin Gets Pranked

2008-11-04T16:45:00.000-05:00

WELCOME TO ELECTION DAY COVERAGE

2008-11-04T14:21:00.005-05:00

I waited till 10am to vote today and went into work later than I usually do. When I arrived at my polling precinct, located in a dilapidated American Legion hall on South Grand Avenue, I thought I had scored big. There was a steady flow of voters, which made my heart sing, but no long lines and lots of places to park. What I found moments later was another story, an outrage of sorts but I was up for the challenge. Poll workers, a breed of their own, much like workers at the DMV, were behaving badly and it took someone with a little chutzpah to set them straight. You guessed it friends...that person was me and when it comes to voting, especially in the biggest election of the century, you can count on my set to prance proudly, in a less than polite way, around those who try and interfere with my secret ballot.

I'll set the scene:

Folding tables and chairs, fluorescent lighting, musty stench in the air, antiquated lever style voting machines, stained wall-to-wall carpeting.

Characters:

Poll workers: Paunch old men wearing miss-matched clothes, middle aged women with bad hair, outfits from low couture Wal-Mart fashion house, heavy older women with nasty demeanor's and crocheted poncho's.

Act I:

Middle Age Poll Worker: What's your name? (leafing through the voting book).

Rene': Rene' Giminiani-Caputo, but it may be under Caputo or Caput0-Giminiani. The county can't seem to get my name correct. It's only been thirteen and a half years......

Middle Age Poll Worker: OK, look under Giannooni....

Rene': No, that's Giminiani with a G

Middle Age Poll Worker: Aaaaa alright. Look for Caputo.

Rene': (thinking this woman is a moron and the look on her face shows it)

Pauchy Old Man Poll Worker: Are you Rene'?

Rene': Yes, that's me.

Middle Age Poll Worker: Sign the book by your name. (To the Old Man Poll Worker) Write her name down on the list and give her a number. She's a De......

Rene': Don't you dare reveal my party affiliation. How dare you! That is totally inappropriate and against voting rules. Aren't you even going to id me?

Old Man Poll Worker: Oh no, the machine is down again. Don't let the next two voters go in until the mechanic gets here and fixes the machine.

(Enter the voting machine mechanic who probably works but one day a year)

Middle Aged Poll Worker: Sign the book now.

Rene': I will not sign the book until it's time for me to vote. How long will it take for the mechanic to fix the machine? I have to go to work.

Middle Aged Poll Worker: (in a nasty tone) Well, I'm going to take your off the list if you don't sign the book.

Rene': Listen, when it is time for me to vote, I will sign the book. Not now! I'm going to report voter irregularity if you don't stop.

Middle Aged Poll Worker: Fine. You can stay in line then. (in a huffy tone).

They continue to let the two people ahead of me vote, while the mechanic worked on the machine. When I asked if our votes were counting, the poll workers kept saying it did not affect the presidential race, just the one for judges. What happened to "every vote counts?" They assure me that the machine is fixed, so I hesitantly enter the booth as the older woman behind me picks up my fight. "I'm not voting in this machine if it doesn't count," she said in a loud voice. "I want my vote to count!" As she
clammered away out there, I took my trusty cell phone out and took pictures inside the booth (to post later tonight)...only a couple. I felt I wanted to document Obama's moment and wished I had brought my regular camera to get a better shot of lever laden field of candidates. The only one I was concerned with was presidency. It was nice to see Obama's name listed in the number one slot on the machine. I still had a bit of angst wishing it was Hillary but for now I've moved on and have pledged my vote for a clear path to hope and change...and most importantly, to END THE WAR!!!

I turned my polling place into the Board of Elections, The Nassau County League of Women Voters, the Obama website and 1-800-OUR-VOTE. I cannot believe this nonsense is going on but in the same breath, I anticipated it. I'm sure anyone living in a diverse, multi-cultural area, will see much of the same. When people start screwing with our votes the end of democracy is near. If you experience any voter irregularities, turn them in to your local Board of Elections. These heathens must be stopped!

With Hope....

2008-11-03T18:56:00.001-05:00

This is Too Funny

2008-11-03T14:45:00.000-05:00

VOTE

2008-10-31T23:41:00.000-04:00

So Much......

2008-10-28T21:02:00.009-04:00

I haven't been around for a few weeks due to an adrenaline shot of familial stress brought on by an ill mother who was staying with me for about a month. I couldn't find enough time to devote to my words and thoughts, let alone combining the two. I've let off some steam by walking at the beach, listening to an infinite play list of dance music and classic rock with a little Dave Brubeck mixed in there for good measure and a slightly cultural experience.

There is nothing quite like caring for an elderly person who isn't feeling up to snuff. I know how I feel when my back is in a horrid spasm, so I tap into my empathetic side, trying to motivate my mother who is now suffering from pulmonary hypertension, as well a myriad of other ailments.

The daily in's and out's of elder care is more than difficult, it's downright depressing. I love my mother. She gave me life and has continuously motivated me to be a better person in a million different ways, showed me how to cook everything from home made pasta to simple light fare like Frittatas and a wide variety of tasty soups to the secrets of her elegant yet hearty Italian tomato sauce (please don't call it gravy people...I really hate that!). I never really did learn how to sew or knit but I make a mean crocheted granny square and can refinish any antique piece of furniture at will....simply because this wonderfully talented woman took the time to nurture my interests as well as turn me on to her own. Even when the Grateful Dead came to Albany back in the late 80's, she embraced the culture that I loved until a car load of Deadheads pulled over and yanked out my mother's flock of Echinecea flowers that she had meticulously planted around our wrap around porch. I'm sure they did it merely for the flower power look of things, but my mother, furious in her stance, awkwardly looked at the small hole in the ground, cursing Jerry Garcia and all his hippie dippy followers. I suppose that was the end of my mom's dalliance into counter culture, thirty years after it was fashionable!

I've been quite busy these last few weeks between meeting Gloria Steinem, Mario Cuomo, Richard Haas, DeDe Myers and Ari Fleischer, as well as George Stephanapoulos. It was like a political Woodstock here for a solid month prior to the October 15th presidential debate held at Hofstra. It was a proud moment for all of us and although I would have loved to attend the event, I was more than happy documenting the days happenings through photographs taken alongside picketers and protesters who loudly expressed their disgust with John McCain but moreover with the oil war that has taken more than four thousand American lives and countless Iraqi casualties. I'm a peace nick if you haven't noticed and refuse to support a war that will soon know no borders. When will the madness stop and when will America get mad..downright pissed off at the happenings of the last eight years. Maybe we'll see that fury tomorrow as we all head out to our local polling places filled with pride, hope and yes, a little fear that those nasty red states will somehow get redder. The truth in each one of us lies in our decision tomorrow. We can either vote for hope or vote our fear. Pick one and commit to it. I openly choose hope but there are those citizen's out there who will let their primal fears strangle their very chance to once again actively participate in our democratic government. I again will remind you that I am and will always be for Hillary but I do believe Obama has an innate quality that my candidate does not possess. His ability to reach people in an empathetic, understanding way will catapult his political career and solidify his rightful place in history. He's one of us, not raised as a senator's son with the proverbial silver spoon sticking out of his mouth. Obama understands what it's like to live through the years of divorce, familial instability and humble beginnings. I realize he's no Superman, Shaman or healer but he is going to lead America into a new world for better or worse. Cast your votes tomorrow and make sure you vote for Hope!

Joe the Plumber is a Fake

2008-10-16T17:21:00.004-04:00

Read it and weep my friends...the truth is, Joe the Plumber isn't licensed and he owes back taxes. I think Mr. McCain got this one WRONG!

Follow the link!

http://thecaucus.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/10/16/joe-in-the-spotlight/

Presidential Debate Anticipation

2008-10-14T23:31:00.005-04:00

To say I am excited for tomorrow would be an understatement. I have been a political junkie since I was a wee tot growing up in Albany, New York, a democratic city with strong union ties. My father was extremely fluent in all things politics and handed that valuable trait down to me, a curious soul with an insatiable appetite for political banter. I've always thought of working in public service but never took the leap, but I think this long lasting, two year blitz of various presidential candidates playing musical chairs with my beloved rite to vote has compelled this strong minded, liberal woman to run for some sort of political office. Honestly, I don't care if I lose because for me it's all about the democratic process and when that secure voting process is soured, the idea of a democracy no longer exists. Of course I'd love to hold an elected position in government, hell I'd even settle for the local yocal school or library board to begin my long shuffle to the state level, yet the recent occurrence of right eye twitching has left me limp. I'm curious about how government works and although I believe there is rampant corruption amongst many elected officials, I still work under the guise of naivete and idealism, so I think I may have a chance at getting something done in my first term. Anything after that is a crap shoot. I think politicians are like tofu...permeable. Once you marinate it in something, after a short while, it begins to take on that flavor, much like our elected congress women and men who ignore the wants and needs of their constituents on a regular basis, voting for earmarks and bloated pork packages because they hovered too long at the bar with a loathsome soul from a random political action committee (the scum of the earth). My true hope is that Obama can change my scewed, cynical view on things and make me believe in his version of CHANGE. I want to take back my nation from these corrupt scoundrels that have shanghaied our very rights and privileges from under our noses....and we let them, so SHAME ON ALL OF US! Remember to vote, it's the only thing we have to save us from conservative oblivion.

Countdown to the Debate or Way to Go Hofstra!

2008-10-12T21:57:00.002-04:00

Follow the link and read a great article about my employer and Alma mater, Hofstra University! I feel so proud to be part of all this. Way to go HU!

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/12/nyregion/long-island/12hofstrali.html?pagewanted=2&sq=Hofstra%20&st=cse&scp=1

SNL/Thursday Night Live

2008-10-10T14:30:00.001-04:00

That One

2008-10-09T22:31:00.001-04:00

Thank to Cindy for posting this on Facebook. I'll be voting for "that one" so watch and see!

Rene'

John McCain & The Keating Five

2008-10-08T22:07:00.001-04:00

Gibbs Calls Sean Hannity an Anti-Semite

2008-10-08T22:05:00.000-04:00

What Does Your Inner Feminist Look Like?

2008-10-08T17:08:00.001-04:00

Hofstra Presidential Pride! Get Ready for the Big Event @ Hofstra on October 15th, 2008

2008-10-08T13:46:00.001-04:00

http://www.hofstra.edu/Debate/debate_vid_promo.html

Target Stampede or How I Lost it All and Gained Everything!

2008-10-05T21:31:00.007-04:00

I spent my weekend at Target. No, really I did and I got amazing steals and deals from jewelry to pocketbooks to shoes and funky clothes. I am totally stoked people because when you start to acquire a new body, you must, as a rule, acquire more stylish garments to match your current flavor. Since last March, I've lost about 40 pounds and am excited about wearing a slightly trampy, vampy black lace number I've been saving for a friends wedding. What's better than acting a little bad on a day when everyone else is behaving themselves and the star of the show is adorned in white on white.

I've always fashioned myself in black, my favorite non-color. A close friend of mine in college always joked with me that he had never seen me in any other color besides black and honestly, when I saw him years later, I of course was wearing BLACK. Gee, what a bloody surprise! I always feel I look best in dark clothing with my hair and olive complexion, especially when I'm tan. Wearing black also has the added advantage of making you look thinner than you really are and boy oh boy there is nothing like wearing the first black turtleneck of the winter season. I'm obsessed with every variety including ribbed sweater types and mocks as well as Land's End cotton turtlenecks that are soft to the touch. I know this sounds bizarre and many of you who have had the pleasure/displeasure of living with me often know that when I'm thinking or writing, I inadvertently pull the collar over half my face, obstructing most of my breathing passages. Weird habit, I know, but I've been doing it since I was a kid and at this point in my life, it's become some what of a rite of passage as fall becomes winter in my household.

I plan on working extra hard this week to ensure maximum weight loss which includes little bread, lots of salad and extra walking and lifting. I'm also going to do something a little cheesy too. Since the weather has NOT cooperated, I am going to go tanning, something I warded off for years because of the radiation dangers. I'm going to ask my trusty student aid Becky to come with me for fear I'll stay in the booth too long and look like some orange freakazoid from the planet FRIED! They told me I needed to buy some special lotion that costs and arm and leg so I suppose I'm going to make that purchase to ensure proper coverage and a nice savage tan in time for the plethora of weddings that this October has promised. I must admit that I am excited at the prospect of making a spectacular entrance at this shindig, even if I'm not a size 2. I feel great right now, confident in my weight loss journey and eager to make a splash.

SNL Mock of Sarah Palin October 4th

2008-10-05T09:07:00.000-04:00

Sting @ 57 or The Perfect O

2008-10-04T18:31:00.007-04:00

A few days ago, while listening to my favorite radio station, WFUV 90.7, the DJ reminded me that it was Sting's 57th birthday. I couldn't believe it. I was shocked and interestingly enough, a little turned on. I've always been one for idol worship and fascinating secret crushes but when I met my husband I all but gave up on these little unrequited love hobbies and promised to focus my sexual energies in his direction. I even made promises in front of God in regards to this when I took my solemn marriage vows almost 14 years ago, but much to not a single person's surprise, I allowed myself one small indulgence where I could occasionally play the role of infatuated rock star groupie to my favorite Limey, Sting or Gordon Sumner as I like to call him.

I'm still stuck on the fact that he is 57 years of age and looks amazing in every possible physical way. It must be all that tantric yoga. In an interview a few years back, he was quoted as saying he could have sex for up to 10 hours at one shot, a direct result of his Eastern relaxation practices. He claimed it took years to get to that point but he learned discipline from daily routines, as did his second wife, Trudy Styler, the recipient of such wanderlust. I have to admit, I am a bit jealous of such afternoon delights but then again, do I really want to spend my days bent into some sort of doughy pretzel in the hopes of an orgasm of a lifetime. I think not. I'm a bit conservative in this forum and although I enjoy and partake in the intimacy of marriage, I by no means swing from the chandeliers in search of the perfect O.

Women of a certain age are in the height of their sexual prowess, so achieving a climax is much easier than all that hard work we had to do in our 20's. I think if someone blew on my ear these days they get a loud, guttural moan, proceeded by a little shimmy-shake normally reserved only for the boudoir. I'm 41, interested and eager, what more could any man or woman ask for these days. A little action is better than none, but I say get as much as you can while you can before you can no longer tolerate all that huffing and puffing.

When some women have children, they all but give up their sexual lives with their husbands, leading many of them to be bitter and celibate which in no way could satisfy either party. Why let it fester? If you want it, grab it and enjoy it. No one says you have to go all the way, all the time. A little foreplay is good for the soul. It's like eating the cupcake first and not getting any of the frosting. It makes you yearn for more and honestly keeps you focused on that frosting for days until you can no longer stand one more day without it. Seize that cupcake my friends and bask in the glory of your conquest. It may be just what you needed!

Don't Vote Add...Tell 5 Friends

2008-10-03T22:55:00.000-04:00

Tina Fey/SNL/Sarah "Boom Boom" Palin/Catie Couric Mock Interview and I mean MOCK

2008-10-03T21:21:00.001-04:00

Wall of Fame Dismantled

2008-10-03T20:37:00.010-04:00

Today I dismantled my Wall of Fame that has been housed in my office since 1996, loaded with funny Polaroids of some of my favorite old students that I will never forget and in many ways, changed my life. The shots are a little aged and ragged and most of these kids are married or even parents now but somehow, when I looked at that ramshackle bulletin board I built 13 years ago, it took me back to the days when New College was buzzing with loud, happy voices and students talking about everything under the sun. My office was the hub of New College back then and I loved every minute of it. Helping these kids was more than a simple job to me, it was a life force. I became close to many of them and welcomed new ones into our wonderful little community in the safe confines of Roosevelt Hall.

Those pictures are a representation of all my hard work, helping to guide, befriend and shape their lives in ways I could never imagine and didn't think possible. I have a million fears about making a commitment to be a parent but in many ways, I did just that with complete strangers, taking care of other peoples children while they were miles away from home.

I never planned on being a college administrator, it just happened. It's a long story but the quickie version is that my husband worked with someone at the Hicksville Library whose daughter was an administrator in New College. I was an employed writer working at IBM as an assistant bullshit artist, making no dough. She asked Vic if I needed a new job and to have me fax over my resume and cover letter. The rest is history my friends. I thought the job was going to be in the Registrar's Office, behind one of the God-awful Bursar windows, but instead, I WAS the Registrar of New College with my own office. I was so desperate to get out of IBM when I got hired, I packed up, lock stock and barrel and high tailed it out of there within a week.

I got married three weeks later and upon returning home from my honeymoon, I began my slow, upward journey to the holy land of academia. It was a place where higher learning meant something and faculty cared about their students. We really were a family back then and it was real I promise you, dysfunction and all. I miss it all the time. I thought it would last forever, but when a school closes and everyone is dispersed, it's more than sad...it's painful and deserves a proper burial. I still mourn its loss every time I speak to an old student or get a call from them, letting me know how they are. I'm sure they meant more to me than I to them, but I felt a part of what I thought would be a lasting community and when it ended, I felt like a president without a country to govern. I am still lost and am trying desperately to adapt to my new role there. I'm sure things will work out in the long term but I'll never forget all those kids that magically changed my life. I'll always wonder how they are and if their lives have turned out well. But, for now, I'll keep my pictures close at hand so I can revisit another special light and time in my life.

Immediate Response

2008-10-02T23:28:00.002-04:00

Sarah Palin is a wind-up, Stepford Wife doll, robotic in her responses. I need this to sit with me a few more hours before I can clearly state how outraged I am by her nonsense and inarticulate speech. Anyone who says words like "dogonit" on national television while running for public office, especially as the possible VP of America, is not fit to fill those shoes. I want someone smarter than I am who can clearly answer the important questions...I can tell you off the bat, it's not Sarah Palin, no way, no how. I'll address more of this in the morning but for now, I'll leave you with this to grow on....After sitting through a fascinating program earlier today with former New York State Govenor, Mario Cuomo and foreign policy expert, Richard Haas, I realized just how inept the McCain/Palin ticket really is....More on this tomorrow. My mind is racing. I don't think I'm going to sleep a wink tonight.

Could This Urban Legend Be True?

2008-09-29T23:15:00.004-04:00

Hello Everyone! I heard this for the first time tonight from my old roommate Debbie in Rochester and was dumbfounded. We are both Hillary fans and were devastated when she dropped out of the race. Maybe it's wishful thinking but I believe this would clinch the presidency for Obama and make history for WOMEN! Rock on Hil! I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens but I can't say I'm sorry to kiss ol'Joe goodbye. He could never hold a candle to Hillary. Power to the people! Rene'

Let me share some info with you that I have gotten from excellent sources within the DNC: On or about October 5th, Biden will excuse himself from the ticket, citing health problems, and he will be replaced by Hillary. This is timed to occur after the VP debate on 10/2.

There have been talks all weekend about how to proceed with this info. Generally, the feeling is that we should all go ahead and get it out there to as many blog sites and personal email lists as is possible. I have already seen a few short blurbs about this - the "health problem" cited in those articles was an aneurysm. Probably many of you have heard the same rumblings.

However, at this point, with this inside info from the DNC, it looks like this Obama strategy will be a go. Therefore, it seems that the best strategy is to get out in front of this Obama maneuver, spell it out in detail, and thereby expose it for the grand manipulation that it is.

So, let's start mixing this one up and cut the Obamites off at the pass - send this info out to as many people as you can - post it on websites and blogs - etc etc

Lastly, I have put an excerpt from Rudy Giuliani's speech at the 2008 RNC below - it seems to address this very issue:

"Well, I'll tell you, if I were Joe Biden, I'd want to get that VEEP thing in writing!!! " (How Prophetic)

WARNING OFFENSIVE....Sarah Silverman on Voting

2008-09-28T23:21:00.000-04:00

The Great Schlep from The Great Schlep on Vimeo.

Debate Debacle

2008-09-28T16:59:00.012-04:00

I'm not really sure what I saw on Friday evening. At times I was horrified, offended, happy, sad, empowered but I was also annoyed and bored for the most part. Sorry to use a myriad of jacked up emotions to describe what should have been a moment...at least for one of them, but all I saw was a bitter old man and a candidate who was afraid to walk the line for fear of losing the election. How are we as viewers supposed to fully understand the current platforms of candidates when all they do is waffle and fence straddle. I try never to practice either of those nasty little habits so I suppose I'd be a lousy politician and an even worse liar..oh but aren't they the same thing?

I'm a "No Nuke" voter who is disinterested in drilling for more oil, especially in the pristine wilds of Alaska but also oppose seeking out fossil fuel the greater Pacific, Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico. Our nation should be looking for alternative fuel sources that can run our vehicles with little or no impact on our already crumbling environment. I recently read that in the greater Los Angeles area, gang bangers are stealing used restaurant grease to sell on the black market. Even the Bloods and Crypts understand the value of alternative fuels...why can't the elite and educated politicians we elect understand their constituents need to "Go Green" and spend less on fuel costs. I don't think anyone wants to rape the ecosystem any more than we already have. If alternative fuels were introduced to Americans, I think it would catch on quickly, much like the whole, organic food movement that has forced food manufacturers and retailers to change their piggish ways, introducing quality foods minus the pesticides, trans fat and food additives that are surely contributing to the mass outbreak of cancer.

I can't say that anyone won that bout on Friday night. There were no gut or kidney punches that wowed me and won me over. There were flutters of defiance on both ends but McCain's short temper and stymied agenda made me snicker a few times. Obama is truly more intelligent, well-spoken and better understands the plight of the middle class. In that respect, he'll always be a winner against McSame but he needs to take a stance on the issues, be as progressive has his Obama-files want him to be and loosen up a little...we like you Obama...we really do!

I wanted someone to solidify a Wall Street plan that would take the heat off of working and middle class people but instead they both EGGO'd it out and flip flopped through non-answer after non-answer.

This is not about who looks better in a dark suit, crisp white shirt and red tie. Unfortunately, most of America will base their vote on how their candidate physically looks and not what's in their heart and heads. I've given up on the intelligence of American people who give more thought to the brand of chicken pot pie they'd prefer than to who will be the next leader of the Free World.

In certain parts of this country, those running for president may garner more votes if they stopped by their local Wal-Mart for an in-store appearance, but be sure to visit the sports department for your welcoming costume...camouflage jacket and hat, hip boots and a shiny new 12 barrel shot gun to finish off the newest red-neck fashions recently profiled on Project Runway(South of the Mason-Dixon Line Edition.) Now you're ready for any Red State Wal-Mart and rest assured, you'll collect a host of Super Delegates in one fell swoop. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED....Again.

I'll call this miss matched melodrama a draw and wait in earnest for the next round of hot air boxing, hoping that at least my candidate will step up and stop chirping about change and map it out to everyone in laymen terms. I'm sick of McShame's easily sparked hot temper and the stoic, non-reactive Obama. I'm going to say it people..."Where is Hillary?" I'm going to keep plugging for the candidate of change with the shear belief that he really means it and we can end this frightening dog and pony show that has become a two and a half year battle royale for the top seat in the White House.

The only thing I have my eye on this week is the Vice Presidential debate. Joe Biden could read Archie comics all week in preparation for this gig and still do well because anything she says is going to dig the proverbial hole deeper and deeper till this "five colleges in six years" silly heart realizes that she has no business near the presidency. She's no Betty or Veronica and even Jughead wouldn't date her! Oh, but I heard she's really big near the Bearing Strait!

2008-09-27T19:09:00.001-04:00