Courage!

SO. Steve Jobs passed. I've been thinking about the word courage. I'm not sure I am capable of the amount of courage it takes to stand up and be what you believe or who you are everyday. But I know I admire most those that do. And then I was thinking of the small moments of what that would take and what it means. And that this post would be about saluting all of those who did that, every day, every moment in a world where it is always easier to put your head under the covers and claim noncompliance, or compliance but no real speakable, or noncommendable and then commendable voice.So many obvious choices, Bill Gates, Abe Lincoln, Coco Chanel, Steve Jobs, Steve McQueen, Alexander McQueeen, to all the queens, Jim Morrison,  Lady Gaga, The Cure, Madonna, and what the heck, while we're on pop stars, Britney. Then I thought about the men and the women I know who have had courage in so many seemingly small ways; the man who said "I do" when really he meant, "I think I do, but what about her shopping sprees?" The woman who said "I will again." After hearing the words "this is no longer a viable life.", how she knew something closer to terror than she ever imagined in those nine (really ten) months than she ever knew she could possibly withstand and got pregnant again. Or the woman who is knocking on the door to forty and would give anything to hear those words, just once. Or to the woman so close to my heart who determined to say "i do" when no one thought it was a good idea and then goodbye after six kids and forty-five years, sell her house and hear from the "stager" that all her worldly possessions would be better put in boxes as they were looking for a look more suitable to a "contemporary neutral buyer". To my favorite kid at the Duncun Donuts drive thru who has a tattoo on his neck in cursive declaring his birth sign "Capricorn" and who I tell everyday as i pick up my coffee to go, "you are going to be so successful, you're a kid in a world where working here isn't cool, but you're a Capricorn and doing it, SO Cool!" ( he'd be cooler if he gave me free coffee but it never works. jk, kinda.)  To the people who land on their shins one day and show up and say, "hi my name is" when they'd rather drown in vomit. or the man who even though it seems like it's not a big deal in 2011 comes out and say's "i dig dudes."  That's courage. We are all so courageous. Showing up to work, showing up to life. Putting the ring on, taking the ring off. It's a lot. It's not revolutionizing technology, but its the ability to send a forward saying I thought of you today, even though I'd rather tell you off today. To show you care. To risk caring. To say hello, to say goodbye.

So I raise my glass, To Steve Jobs, (that I wish will be filled once again only with sparkling water), to all of you courageous courtiers. Those of us who risk everyday, show courage everyday. I love that. I love you.

Good week all, please feel free to share your courageous moments, I live to hear them, S!



Please leave a comment here. I love to hear your thoughts and memories of your own-If you post anonymous you are totally protected. Thanks!

Astronomy Lesson

A snippet from the day that I thought was pretty cool/ironic/funny.

True story. Tonight around 7pm.

"Mama, come quick!" Julian, the three year old hollers from somewhere not in the tub where he is supposed to be with me and Colbert, almost six.
Luckily, I find him. (dry humor, bc our house is not big.)
"You rang?" I asked.
"Mama look!" he said, standing naked by his bedroom window. I come up behind him.
"The sun made the sky red," he whispers, in a voice that could be the cutest thing I've ever heard and an expression to match.
"Yes," I said.
"Why it be's like that?" he asked. "Why the sun do's that to the sky?"
"That's the sun doing what it does," I said. "It's called a sunset."
"It do's that everyday?" he asked.
"Yup, whether we watch or not, or like it or not, the sun is doing her thing." I said. I can't grasp science so I attempt profound.
"Like me, Mama." he said still looking at the sky "I do mine."
"Yup." I said. Containing myself. "And I do...mine."
"Can I see Mama, can I learn?" Colbert comes in, a wet noodle from the tub. These are words I've never heard him ask, I don't want to lose momentum.
"Sure, look." I said. "It's the sunset."
"It's beautiful red." Colbert said.
We are having a moment like real people. It's almost like walking through a gallery with cohorts. I almost don't recognize them as my children. It's surreal in a way.
"Yup, we were saying that the sun is just like people. We are what we are whether anyone watches us or likes us or not. We could beg the sun all day not to rise or set but it will. We simply be what we are."
 "Colbert be's a jerk." Julian said. Here it comes, "And you, Mama."
Zing.
"Sometimes, sometimes we can all be jerks." I said.
"I not! I not a jerk!" He screams and starts a sweltering meltdown shattering our reverie.
Thar she blows.
"No, shhhh, of course not. Just me and Colbert." I said, eyes up to heaven, I wink at Colbert.
"Julian's a big fat jerk." Colbert adds.
 "Okay, Let's get your pajamas on." I said. "And no more name calling or you'll both be on the naughty step."

Said the sun to her sons.

Blink and You'll Miss Me

SO. My mom is selling her house. Our house. The home we six grew up in, the one we eight lived in for the better of thirty some odd years, those two for a full thirty seven. To the hoarders picking at our junk parked by the curb its a frame with flat tires, to me I see a shiny red ten-speed, the double upper case RR's intertwined at the base of the curly handle bars, my first wheels, a Rolls Ross. I remember when my dad agreed to buy it for me at a bike shop in South Hampton. That sounds very daddy's little rich girl, we weren't rich and it wasn't like that. That's why I remember it. I'm not sure who's face looked more shocked as he paid, me or my mothers. My brothers and sisters weren't even jealous. If this could happen to me, what could happen to them? Don't mess with a miracle. Bite the insides of your cheeks and act like your heart isn't beating out of your chest or it might disappear. But it didn't. My first bike. I rode it to Jen DeSimones house around the corner, she had the same one in blue. We hugged, O.P. shirt to O.P. shirt.

A few days ago my sister brought me an envelope full of pictures, a picture of me on my bike amongst the pile. My face, you'd think I had scored a Gold Medal, I look as proud as if I had done something, actually trained and prepared for years for the gold medal moment and in retrospect I guess I did. Getting Johny G. to part with a hundred bucks was as sure a feat as any 100 yard dash, a triple lundy off the high dive, no splash.

I miss him.

Then today a friend from the beach sent me pictures via Kodak Gallery thereby connecting me to a whole world I knew and forgot about since I no longer remember to even download my pictures.  I found an album on there I uploaded in 2009. I can't believe how much has changed in two years. I especially can't believe how much my Julian has changed, that I actually started questioning why we called him Butterball. I remember being confused when anyone including (especially) strangers would come up to me and tell me he was huge.  I have long suffered from a reverse anorexia, where in my mind's eye I'm as hot as humanly possible and then I see pictures and I'm like, who's the fat chick? oh, sh*t never mind, move on, its me. Anyway, I guess I see my children the same way. I remember making a video called Baby Fat in answer, everyone seemed so jazzed at how fat my baby was I thought "Well, you can have one too! Fat suits for babies!" it was to poke fun and say who cares but now I see the pictures and think I may have taken those comments a tad too personally. And more distressing see the pictures from when I was 23-28 and wonder why those people weren't around then to tell me I was shorty 140. Could have helped things. A lot. 

I have downloaded the slide show yes, that's what this blog has been reduced to. Come watch my slides:) It's set to music. Unfortunately, the photo's my sister gave me aren't digital, big darn there, SO bummed I can't show you how fat I was. But please enjoy these. As if there weren't enough ways life is showing me how fast it all goes this year...My dad was here and now he's not, there were two and now there's three and he's teething and first grade starts next week, and my younger sister became a mother yesterday and it will be the tenth anniversary this September 11th, and, and. All the ands.  

I hope it will help me and you to slow down and enjoy the ride and maybe make your own album (it was only $4 dollars:). Although I feel like I am constantly pulling myself to stay "in the moment", after finding this album and having no recollection of any of those days (did I really make cupcakes with buttercream frosting and a variety of toppings?) these days I'm going to try not to blink. I don't want to miss a thing.

Good Week all!! xx!

Souther

So. I love the east coast but up here in the north it's June and I'm still recovering from the worst winter ever. Some days it feels like it may still be winter. Danny barely plugged in the airconditioners before we were hit with a coldsnap. Plus we're busting out of our cozy little abode. With eyes a squinto, I recently made it to the bathroom at 3am only to find my five year old on the VIP seat, "I need privacy mama." He said. For the love of saltines. Did I mention I was 39 weeks pregnant at the time? I need my own bathroom. Time to roll.

We've been contemplating moving souther. You may have noticed I slipped a "y'all" into my first post. There was nothing haphazard about my choice of words, I chose carefully. I was gettin' into the southern groove y'all! Listening to Garth Brooks, Randy Travis and John Turner on my Pandora, thinking about trying grits,  putting a shot gun on the pickup, if we had a pick up, waving a confederate flag, hell, I burned a cross on my front lawn just to get into the spirit of thangs. My neighbors were so confused. What? Did I go too far? I'm ready to save twenty thousand dollars in taxes while existing in nothin' but flipflops and a sundress.

We went down to Charleston, SC last weekend to get a lay of the land. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it totally surpassed that. I have never met such friendly people! And good looking! Now, that is not a combo easy to come by. (that's why people are always shocked when they meet me...elbow, elbow). We were 'Yes, Sirred', and 'Yes, M'ammed' and it was all sweet, none sinister. You know if some one dares to M'am me up here I'm staring the devil out of them. But its not like that. People are not looking to call you a hag.

Downtown is as charming as a cat in a hat with a baseball bat. It also felt international. While waiting outside for our table at brunch, we had a brilliant chat with a couple on holiday from London. Another couple visiting their doctor daughter from Michigan (ok not exactly Spain) gently got our attention during brunch and referred me to the hospital down the street so I could be treated for what turned out to be acute bronchitus, *i'm always sick with something. The staff at the hospital were in no rush, but still I was in and out in under an hour and had a full perspective on schools and neighborhoods, (and a z-pack). The doctor that treated me lived in the village we flew down to scope, I'on Village. UM...can you sing Heaven Is a Place On Earth? Please don't. But seriously, it's gorgie porgie. It's not cheap though. I thought we could move down south and live like kings, but after talking to anybody who would, (and they all will because they're so nice), we discovered that most people commute by plane to work in order to make the kind of money you need to live there. And my bubble burst all over my crabcake and grits.

It's an easy enough commute, an hour and twenty minute flight.  But we can't live without our Danny boy four days out of the week. So, looks like I can take the cardboard out from between the dishes, they won't be broken in a move and keep my boots within reach. More snow and taxes for me...and late night competition for the VIP seat. Oh and the two other incidentals, friends and family are here too:)

***This is kind of unfolding, signish- when we got back to LGA, deflated, I was thinking about Robert Richard Wright that maybe he's right, I'm meant to stay in new york to pursue my "gift", when my eye landed on the license plate on the car parked across from us. freeeeky.

**i'm watching Love Story on OWN right now, the best.

Beginning

BEGINNING

SO. Yesterday, a friend convinced me to start a blog. Well, actually, a month ago a psychic told me I had “star power energy” (I have it on tape so I can prove it to myself as sure as Anthony Weiner sent pictures of his pecker). The Psychic, Robert Richard Wright, was pushing acting and writing. But I did the acting, that ship has sailed, I told him. I have three kids (youngest is 6 weeks old). I can’t be hauling my kitten in and out of the city, trying to get two lines on a commercial. I did that. I feel fulfilled in that way.  As for writing, I wrote a novel last year that went nowhere. He said, shaking his head, pulling another Tarot card, “Yeah, see, this card means Gift. So, you really need to look into this.”   His words haunt me. I dig obscurity. I love my minivan and all inclusive vacations. But ‘tis true I did battle for the limelight for nearly a decade and did pretty well. So, it’s “in me”, so to speak.

Next, I sat down with a $5 palm reader at a crafts fair in Manhasset, NY to see what she had to say and in the first question she asked  if I knew I had a gift  (I did, psychic, Robert Richard Wright told me so last week, thanks) and secondly, what was I DOING with this gift?  Holy shit. Oh no! Not you too! The pressure. The pressure of a gift.

So. Here I am. It’s not a bad way to start. I kind of thought I’d be on the news talking about my gift, maybe hosting my own show on OWN with my new latest credentials. “Hey Ope (in my fantasy convo’s she’s Ope.) Hey Ope, not sure if you heard but two very reliable sources told me I had a gift. And you used to say so on your show all the time when you were talking directly to me, so, how’s about a headlining act? Also Ope, I got your email. Thanks.” Did y’all know that? If you send Oprah an email she writes you back. Does so. Whatever, she wrote me back. A secretary may have mass emailed you, but Oprah Winfrey wrote me and my gift back.

**warning! I’m about to make a hard right turn here. Brace yourself.

I want to wrap up with a little something to think on today, as I’ve been struggling with what exactly my “gift” is and then I’m always thinking of how to get out of some internal mess, as I’m sure we all are from time to time. Sometimes we want to stay in the confusion and the conundrum as long as possible because that is what we are comfortable with. “Better the devil you know, then the one you don’t”, as my mother would say.  I mean, what happens if I do recognize the truth? Where do I go from there?

All we can ever do is make a beginning.  The next steps unfold after that.  Inevitably, where it goes is up to God.  Replace fear with faith. 

I hope you’ll like my blog. I really want a Vlog – video, but…I’m not technologically there just yet. So, to the beginning…and truth…and Ope… and Weiner not sending anymore pictures of his weener. What’s with men sending pictures of their schlong’s out anyway? No one wants to see it, it’s gross. Put it away. Begin there.

Love, S

http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/anthony-weiners-actual-penis-nsfw