Holiday Hype

I can not believe it is already Thanksgiving! I have recently come to realize that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Why you ask? Yes, the food is a big part of it. As is my secret desire to see one of those ginormous parade balloons crash into a NYC building. But these are not the most important reasons. The reason I love Thanksgiving the most is because it is one of the very few holidays (the only other major holiday I can think of is the 4th of July) where there is no tradition of gift giving.

Now don't get me wrong, I am no Scrooge. It is not a miserly motive. Ask anyone - I give the best Christmas presents. I enjoy picking out things for the people I love. But, it's just that I hate how the holidays have morphed into these commercially-driven, consumption-obsessed rituals. The presents are no longer a thought, a part of the day. They are the WHOLE day.

How many of you can say that your kids favorite holiday is Christmas? And why do you think your kids would say so? Is it the magical feeling they get when you string up the lights? Is it the fun of baking Christmas cookies with their mom? Is it because all the family comes together to share? No, that's right, it is because it's the holiday when they get the most presents. Now I understand that is part of the excitement of being a kid. I was there too once. But as I am about to bring my own child into the world, I can't help but stop and think - should this really be the main focus of a holiday? And are we as adults and parents helping to promote this ideal? How over the top have you gone so far for your kids this Christmas?

I won't blame the kids. Even though I have seen my share of spoiled kiddie attitudes, it's not all their fault. It is only natural to be overwhelmed by an abundance of new things that magically appear in your house one morning. No, it is adults too that are obsessed with the gift aspect of holidays. "I got my son a new flat screen this year. Oh, how old is he? Seven." SEVEN??? "I have to get Susie something spectacular for Christmas,because she got me such a great gift last year." Really? Is it a competition?

And it's not just Christmas. Hundreds of dollars for roses on Valentine's Day. Professionally costumed kids with multiple overflowing sacks of candy on Halloween. Easter baskets filled with electronics instead of eggs. Where have the meaning of these celebrations gone?

When my nephews were little I used to take them every Christmas season to the toy store. Right at peak time, when they were really yearning for all the new items on the shelf, and weren't sure yet what Santa would bring. Then I would tell them to pick out the best gift they could find. And then I would take them to the local fire station and have them donate it to Toys for Tots. Our car ride filled with conversation about the real meaning of Christmas, and how giving in itself was a reward. I plan on continuing this tradition with my own child. I also hope I can uphold the traditions of hand-made Valentines, homemade Halloween costumes, and Easter baskets filled with chocolate eggs. I want holidays to really mean something.

So this Thanksgiving, as I have my own little Turkey in the oven, I am thankful for a holiday when I can gather with family and friends and just celebrate. For a holiday when we can realize how lucky we are for all that we already have, and not what we may or may not get.

Back to blog

I am not sure why I continue to keep this blog? I think I am ultimately missing the point of a blog: to routinely write short, quick, frequent blurbs. I think I was destined to be a different type of writer. Not this instant gratification, 21st century, technologically-assisted type. I am more old -school. You know, one that procrastinates and only actually writes one piece every couple of months, all the while lamenting about the struggles of being a misunderstood artist who is plagued by high-brow struggles like writers' block. That is the kind of writer I want to be.

Whatever. I'll just write when the mood strikes me. Despite the blogging convention. Who knows, maybe when I die, my ineptitude will become my legacy? Think about it. The fact that there will be only limited examples of my genius could give me clout. The few, small windows into my psyche could become cherished artifacts. Like anything else, if you over saturate the world with them, they lose their value, right? Yeah, that's me. The Basquiat of blogging. Well, give me some credit for trying at least!

So usually I get the urge to blog again when something aggravates me. I don't know why, but I tend to get loquacious when I have an opinion. *Insert the "no shit Sherlock!" comments here* So my topic du jour? The insane frequency of lame-ass political ads during election season. And my previous mention of over saturation could not be a better segway into this topic.

Good grief! I know that elections are important and voting is our right and obligation and all the other blah blah blah that you political enthusiasts love to spew at me. But why must you pollute my TV so? You can't even watch an episode of Jeopardy in the month of October without being inundated with annoying ad after ad. I wouldn't mind if the ads played a few times a week. But I literally counted, and that damn Charlie Baker ad played seven times within two hours of network programming!! I've seen it so much that I don't want to vote for him just because I am sick of looking at that stupid mole! Don't these campaigns have someone qualified in marketing techniques to know there is such a thing as OVERKILL?? If I have to watch that low-budget anti-Anne Kuster piece of crap one more time, I am going to scream! Way to get your money's worth on that cheesy sound effect! I wasn't going to say it, but soooo New Hampshire.

Not to mention the style and content of some of these ads. Are these people kidding me? Do they really think I am going to vote for them because they claim to "follow a different path" and "will make the necessary changes." Oh really hotshot? I just have one question for you all. One that you never seem to answer. HOW? These blowhards have no problem pointing out past indiscretions of their opponents, or highlighting the incumbents' failures. But they NEVER say how they are actually going to fix things or even how they will implement changes.

"Tim Cahill is one of us! And he will fix the unemployment problem." That's great Timmy.....but how? Do you have some secret solution? Like, say, 25,000 jobs in your back pocket? "Karen Polito will save the taxpayers money and stimulate the economy." Oh I see. Hundreds of politicians across the nation are struggling with these issues, but good ole' Karen has it in the bag! Vote for her, she's magic. And speaking of magic, don't even get me started about Christine O'Donnell and the witch allegations! Are Americans in general getting stupider, or are just more of them getting involved in politics?

In case I was too subtle, I think these ads are ridiculous! But they do achieve something. They make me realize that I don't want to vote for any of these fools. If a candidate wants my vote, they would make themselves known to me long before October. You know actually be active, involved, and visible in my state before crunch time! Come on - be honest, how many of you heard of Charlie Baker before this fall? And it would also be nice if they presented themselves in a manner that is more professional than a slather of cheesy thirty and sixty-second spots in between Access Hollywood. I'm telling you, these ads make me long for the days of the "Wazzup?" commercials. Now what does that tell you?

From Here to Eternity

Today felt like the longest Sunday ever. Usually Sundays fly by. In large part because that dreaded Monday morning looms in the shadows. But today was refreshing. I accomplished everything on my list and had time to spare! What a concept!

For a good day, it actually started out a little shaky. There's nothing like waking up at 7:30am on a Sunday. Sun shining, birds chirping, and a frantic husband yelling that we're late for work! "Honey get up - we're late! Why didn't you make me set the alarm?" Once I assured him that it was Sunday and that it was too early to be up on our day off (as well as reminding him that even if it wasn't Sunday, it wasn't MY job to tell him to set his alarm), we laid back down. Only to be jolted up once again. This time by the most heinous grating sound echoing up through our bedroom windows. What the hell could that be on a Sunday morning, you ask? Oh right! My neighbor (no names shall be named, but here is a hint - we're related!) was filling the cracks in his driveway with cement and using a shovel to skim the excess. "Pat pat pat, scrape, scrape, scraaaaappppeee....." Doesn't everyone do that on a Sunday morning? Brush your teeth, read the paper, go to church, cement the driveway??? Hmmmm....

So since we were up early, Ken and I cleaned the house. All of his earlier transgressions were forgiven once I saw the bang up job he did of dusting and polishing the furniture. Once we finished cleaning and did a few loads of laundry, we checked the clock. 11 am!!! What!! Were the hands actually moving? We agreed on the obvious scientific explanation. Apparently time had stood still, so we were going to take advantage of it. There were a few household items we had been meaning to pick up, as well as some last minute needs for our upcoming vacation. We got dressed and headed out to do some shopping.

Now, I know that I rag on my husband some times when I try to be funny, but he really is one of a kind. I am the luckiest wife, because....the man loves to shop. And I am not talking about lame things, like tools or electronics. I am talking full-on clothes and home goods bargain hunting. He is the best shopping partner I have ever had. It's priceless. So like I said, we needed a random assortment of things -a suitcase for Ken, new sunglasses, a dish rack, and skewers for the grill. Usually finding this specific of a list could pose quite the time consuming process. But not on Perpetual Sunday! We found ALL of these things in one store (Marshalls is usually hit or miss, well today was definitely a HIT). It took all of 45 minutes....with 15 minutes dedicated solely to modeling sunglasses for each other, of course.

After completing all our necessary errands,we still had time to do lunch at Panera AND I got a manicure and pedicure while Ken picked out some new shirts at the mall. At this point most people would call it a day. But not on Super Sunday! Ken followed up with a 2 hour baseball practice and I took the dogs for a walk around the city. We ended the night with a sushi dinner and a movie.

When I woke up this morning, it felt like today was going to be the worst day. But clearly we traveled through the space time continuum or something, and were rewarded with an absolutely fulfilling day! I am so thankful. Especially since I just remembered that tomorrow is Monday. Crap. I hope Ken forgets to set the alarm.

Getting back on track...

Ok, so I know that I have totally abandoned this whole blog idea for the last three or so months. I feel lousy about it, but honestly I couldn't help it. I just wasn't in a creative place. Usually when I write these blogs I like them to have a comedic or sarcastic flair. You know, since I am by nature a wise-ass. But I haven't felt very witty or entertaining lately.

As most of you may now know, I suffered a miscarriage. Obviously this was not something I wanted to blog about, because, well, I thought it was tacky to divulge something so painful and personal for just anyone to read. But, alas, I was in a pickle. Against my better judgement, and that voice in my head that sounds like my mother, I had already told my "cyber friends" when I became pregnant. Funny how when it was good news it didn't seem inappropriate! (go ahead let the finger wagging begin). Right. Except on the flip side, I then had the oh-so-uncomfortable task of having to explain to the internet community at large that I was no longer pregnant. Trust me, my mistake for putting anything so personal online in the first place. Yeah, that's me. The kid who always has to learn things the hard way.

So there it is. The reason the last two and half months have sucked. The reason I have been too hung up to write a new blog. I am happy to say, I'm past it. Especially after this last hurdle.

So, back to more important topics. You know, like why you always end up one sock short after doing a load of laundry. It never fails. No matter how careful you are, one always disappears. Or, why some people don't change the toilet paper roll when there is clearly only one square left. One square, really? Who uses one square?

More on these little gems later.....

Happenstance Romance?

With Valentine's Day looming on the horizon, I am going to write about something today that some of you will think is sweet, and some of you will think is nauseating. I am going to reflect on when I first met and fell in love with my husband. Now, if you are part of that group that says "Oh gag me...you two are too much already, so sappy" or "give it time you are still newlyweds," then sadly, I must tell you to take a long walk off a short pier. I am giving you fair warning that you should stop reading now, because the story of how we first got together is the stuff that ABC family and Lifetime movies are made of. Real "chick flick" stuff!

Anyway, I will ignore those of you who are green-eyed cynics and continue on. Since around August of 2004 I have been completely and utterly in love with Kenneth Dell Isola. If you really want to go back, I have had a crush on him since we met in 1999, but 2004 was when we became true friends and the proverbial instance of being swept off my feet occurred.

I will never forget the moment when I realized that I was over-the-moon, out-of-my-mind in love with him. (That's right I remember the exact moment, deal with it!) We were not even dating yet (forward, I have always been!), but just hanging out as friends. We both worked for the same company and happened to be working at the same outdoor summer event. And when I say happened to be working the same event, what I really mean is I finagled it that way so that I could see him. Anyway, it was the end of the night, the event was over, and we were sitting on the hood of his car just talking. And not that shallow, try to impress the opposite sex kind of talking, but really talking and listening to each other. This is still one of my favorite qualities about my husband to this day. He doesn't do fake, he doesn't try to impress, he is always just 100% himself. That night we talked about our interests, families, even what we wanted out of life. Oh readers, this is when I was hooked. A man who was honest, sincere, kind, and not to mention totally easy on the eyes!!

Before I knew it, summer had become fall, and I had yet to find a way to cross what I like to call "the friendship bridge." You know that line that appears somehow when you are friends with someone first? I couldn't just leave it to chance! I had to get us together in some sort of date-like scenario/environment. Something at night, and definitely something separate from work. So I did what any sane, together, 21st century, modern woman would do. I met up with him on a Friday and invited him to a birthday party for my roommate being held the next night at my apartment. Sounds fine right? Except for the fact that this party had yet to exist! No guests had been invited. No food had been purchased. Hell, it wasn't even my roommate's birthday! But Mama always taught me to go after what I wanted, so I sprung into action.

I ran home to my roommate and enlisted her to calling everyone we knew. A hodge-podge guest list it was, but that didn't matter. He was coming to my place! In less that 24 hours! We exploded into Johnny's Foodmaster, scared half the population of the Republic of Cambridge, and grabbed whatever we could that was edible. I called my more boozey-oriented friends and make them promise they would supplement with whatever they had in their liquor cabinet. Ok, guest list, food, and drink were taken care of. Now eight hours remained for what was most important: picking out my outfit and doing my hair!

Cut to later that night. Bestill my heart! He arrived at the party, cooly and fashionably late, looking too adorable. I knew right off that it was a good sign I wasn't the only one who took extra care on my appearance! I was my graceful and charming self. Which, if you really know me, means I only tripped/dropped things/nervously laughed for half of the time. But it didn't matter. He was still super attentive and interested in hanging out with me. A guy who liked me despite myself! I knew I needed to marry him! But I calmly reminded myself to take one step at a time. Like securing a second date :)

And I knew he was hooked too, because he was the last one to leave that night. Ok, actually he didn't leave, he crashed at my place. We were drinking wine and talking so late into the night that I couldn't let him drive. But I can honestly say that I am a good girl. I made him sleep on the couch. He still teases me to this day about that, but I know that he liked me even more because I did! It was only our first date after all! But what an amazing first date it was. I went to sleep that night tingling from the excitement. I had liked him for so long and I finally broke some ground! I'm not even sure if he knows it, but I laid awake all night, knowing he was just outside my door, my mind racing and heart pounding.

That first night led to a more traditional second date, dinner and a movie. And so on and so on. Our courtship was nothing short of lovely. Each moment we spent together we fell more and more in love. Dating led to a committed relationship. A committed relationship led to living together. Living together led to adopting dogs together. And finally marriage. We have been married one year, three months, and two days. And every night when I lay in bed next to my husband I still tingle, my mind still races, and my heart still pounds. He is truly the love of my life. A good man, no a great man, whom I am so lucky to have. And to think, none of it ever would have happened if I hadn't thrown a last-minute, fake party! Take that Martha Stewart!

Happy Valentine's Day Ken. I love you always.

Head Games

Oh, I have done it again. I had promised not to lag between blogs posts, and what have I gone and done? Smashed that promise into a thousand little bits! I really have no excuse. I could try and explain how busy at work I am, or how much time the house renovations are taking. But to be honest, I really just can't bear to look at the computer lately. I am on it almost all day in work, and when I come home I just want to have dinner with my husband and then sit and read a nice book. No screens allowed.

Ok - all of that was a lie. I just thought is sounded better than the actual reason I have lapsed on my blogging: Super Mario Brothers for Wii. I kid you not. I am a grown woman, about to turn 30 (GASP!) and I can not stop playing this damned video game. It is like crack, except you keep all of your teeth.

I apologize for lying to you, but that is a sign of addiction isn't it? Seriously people, I may need an intervention. Call up A&E - get me on that show. I try to just play a game or two, but it always turns into this obsessive marathon. I find myself getting tired and bleary eyed, and yet still I push on. Jumping, sliding, fire-balling my way into a video game coma, "I just need to beat one more Castle!"

Oh, those Nintendo people. They have been screwing with me since I was six years old. That's right - you know, the original Mario Brothers and Duck Hunt. Followed by years of Super Mario Brothers, Nintendo 64, all the way right up to Mario Kart and The New Super Mario Brothers for Wii. It's a god damned dynasty I tell ya! It gets into your head somehow. And you JUST CAN'T STOP.

At first, my husband thought I was crazy. "Oh aren't you cute with your silly little video game!" His patronization was short lived, however, once he picked up that Wii remote. He was watching me fail over and over again at a certain portion of Level 5 (that damned monster fish!), when he grabbed the remote from my hand and condescendingly stated, "Let me show you, so we can turn it off already!" And that my friends, was all it took.

Later that night I awoke from a deep slumber to the sounds of jingling coins and that annoying "hop, hop!" song coming from my living room. There he was, in the pale blue glow of the TV, eyes pasted open, fingers blistered, trying to beat Level 1. Crack I tell you, crack.

So now we are both in a shame spiral of addiction. Blowing off dinners, ignoring phone calls, and sadly, abstaining from the mountain of laundry, all in the name of saving Princess Peach.

Our house is dusty, our refrigerator is empty, and our thumbs are ravaged. This witch better be worth it!