The Girl Out of Brooklyn

A Recipe For Love

2011-09-22T13:14:00.000-07:00

I have read on more than one occasion that we shouldn't use food to socialize. I have read about the "dangers" of teaching our children that food equals love. Self help books say that we shouldn't give food such a big role in our lives. Food is sustenance, nothing more. We should eat to live, not live to eat. It's not healthy to find comfort in food, or so we are told.

Well, as an Italian girl from Brooklyn, I say, "What a load of bologna!" (See what I did there? I used food as a METAPHOR!!)

I am proud to use food as an expression of love and I have yet to have anyone object to it. When a friend is sick or has had surgery or a baby - I get straight to work pulling out my big pots and making soup. Chicken Noodle, Pasta Fajioli (we say Fazool), Minestrone, Chick Pea Soup....they all do a body good. In the process, I feel better too. I feel useful.

Last year, I delivered a pot of minestrone to a friend of mine with a nice, crusty loaf of bread. You could see her mood brighten as she sat up a little taller. She made her way to the table, took a deep breath to enjoy the delicious smell of it and started eating. She dipped her bread and cleaned her plate and smiled. Now tell me again how that's not "Mmmm, mmmm, good!"

I highly doubt that rice cakes and tofu or some other "sustenance" would have inspired the same reaction.

I watched my Mom make a week's worth of meals for her dear friend who had undergone brain surgery and I never forgot it. She labeled the containers and even included instructions and serving suggestions. Although things were uncertain at the time, Mom could always be certain of her baked ziti. She was also certain that her friends would get hungry, and if you're going to eat, shouldn't it great?

I will also add this: If snow days and sick days don't make you think of tomato soup and grilled cheese, there was something severely wrong with your childhood.

When my friends and I gather for a dinner party, we all have fun getting together and tasting the various creations each couple has made for that night's theme. We've done Cuban, Indian, Chocolate, Steakhouse, My Big Fat Italian Wedding...many more than I can even remember. It's exciting when we all get the notice of the theme and then our imagination take us on a journey as we take on a culinary challenge. The day of the party, I find I am anticipating with great delight what everyone will make. How nice it is to know we are all thinking of each other as we cook our assigned dishes! How sweet to experience the thoughtful preparation! Yes, being thought of, being cooked for, going the extra mile for someone, this IS love. Let's stop apologizing for it.

What else should we do when we gather? Play cards? Sure! But not without snacks!
Watch the game? Yes! But not without a beer and chicken wings! We can finally see that movie? Absolutely! Pass the popcorn!

My Great-Aunt used to set an extra place in her dining room every Sunday before serving up a macaroni feast. Every week that unexpected (or should I say "expected"?) guest arrived. Why? Because they knew they were always welcome.

There's always a place for you at my table my friend. Have a seat. Let me fix you a plate. Later we'll talk - over coffee.

Taste that? It's love.

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Recipe: Minestrone Soup

More of an ingredient list than a recipe, here are the basics of my minestrone soup. The beauty of it is that you use whatever veggies you have handy. Don't worry if you don't have them all, but Olive Oil, Onion and Garlic are required.

3 TBS Olive Oil
2 cloves of finely chopped garlic
1 medium onion - diced
1 basket of sliced mushrooms
2 Zucchini quartered and diced
2 carrots diced
1/2-1 pkg of frozen chopped spinach (thawed)
2 cans of cannelini beans
2 qts of chicken or vegetable broth or stock
Salt and Pepper
2 TBS tomato paste (optional)
2-3 leaves leaves of basil (never hurts!)
1/2 lb of small sized pasta (elbows, mini-shells, mini-farfalle)

Saute garlic and onion in olive oil. Be careful not to burn.
Add sliced mushrooms. Salt and pepper to taste.
When mushrooms have softened and begin to brown, add 1 qt of broth.
Add zucchini and carrots. Add second qt of broth.
Simmer under vegetables are tender.
Add chopped spinach.
Add 2 cans of beans with liquid. Cooke until tender.
Add paste if desired or to thicken soup. Add Basil.
Boil water for pasta.
Cook pasta as directed. I don't add the cooked pasta to the soup as it absorbs the soup and makes the pasta mushy. Put a serving of pasta in each bowl and then add the soup.
Sprinkle with grated Parmesan cheese and enjoy!!

Other veggies you can use - squash, diced tomatoes, grean beans, potatoes, cabbage, anything! Be creative!

Catchphrase Crazies

2011-09-15T23:08:00.000-07:00

Last weekend brought me to Chicago and a wonderful visit with my father's cousin Josephine, her husband Tony and family on the occasion of their 50th Anniversary.

I love everything about this trip. I love that my Mom and my Aunt Maria were there. I love my Chicago Casale Cousins. I love how loving and silly and familar we all are with each other - even family I was meeting for the first time. I love Chicago: the people, the food,the city itself - there's no place like it.

And I love this trip's catchphrase.

Whenever we go on vacation, we seem to invent and latch onto a catchphrase and repeat it at every turn. It's an exercise in comic timing that never fails. We find ourselves laughing all day long, everyday, for a week.

This time around it was when Aunt Maria inadvertently responded to one of us with this question, "Are you serious?"

My Mom then relayed the story of a girl who works with my brother. She says this all the time, only like this, "Are you seer-vee-ous?" Say it with me: "Seerveeous."

So here's how it goes: Sunlight is peeking through the curtains and Aunt Maria tells us we have to get up if we want to make the free breakfast.

"What time is it?"
"8:20."
"Are you seerveeous?"

We drive to downtown Chicago where the parking is not cheap. How much?

"$25 for two hours."
"Are you seeveeous?"

We order a stuffed pizza from Giordano's. The menu says it serves 3-4 people. It weighs about 9 pounds.

"Are they seerveeous?"

We ask a couple of Chicagoans how to get to the Randolph Street parking garage from where we were in Dale Plaza.

"You have to walk up that ramp and then walk 2 blocks in that direction."
We ask simultaneously, "ARE YOU SEERVEEOUS?"
Then we all bust out laughing like only we can.

And we don't care if anyone else gets it. In fact, it's probably funnier if they don't.

I'm not sure why we do this. Perhaps it's just the burning desire of all of us to inject a little funny into everything. It's the beauty of the inside joke. The joy of the callback. I know I am throwing the scenarios at you at a rapid-fire pace, but we sprinkled them throughout the day as perfectly timed gems and we laughed just as hard each time.

So this catchphrase will go down in history with all the rest, and we will take it out and dust it off and perhaps use it the next time we are together.

I dare you not to say it today. I'm seerveeous.

A Place of No

2011-09-05T23:02:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here watching "The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills," one of my many, many reality show guilty pleasures. I am going to set aside the tragic events of the summer (a divorce of one couple leads to the suicide of the ex-husband). What I want to talk about (at first) is dogs at the dinner table.

Yes my friends, dogs at the dinner table.

I'll set the scene. Big, fancy, multi-multi-multi-million dollar house. It doesn't even matter whose. She's serving a bottle of $2,200 champagne. The idea of this is digusting to me. They are drinking somebody else's mortgage.

Now The British Couple walk in with their ever present mini-dogs. The dogs are dressed to the nines. Eh. Who cares? A dog in a tuxedo is still a dog. Walking in with them is one thing. Sitting down with them is another.

But no one says a word. No one says, "Hey, that's kind of gross," or, "What lovely manners that your elbows are off the table. Unfortnately, your dog's paws are on it."

I understand that there are some cultural differences that may seperate people, but I'm pretty sure that this is bad form that crosses all socio-economic boudaries. I think this is something that everyone can agree on. Because let's be clear, I don't care kind of house you live in - or if you serve champagne or RC Cola - the rules is the rules! But somehow, this couple has thinks that they are sitting on enough money that not only don't the rules of the world apply to them. and they are pretty damn sure that no one will challenge them on it.

And so here we have a problem that runs rampant through the rich in famous: They have no one in their lives to tell them, "No."

"No Ms. Lohan, you can't snort that in the VIP lounge."

"No Michael, you shouldn't put a carousel in the front yard, or buy the Elephant Man Bones, or have a sleepover with children who are not your own."

"No Lady Gaga, I don't think the meat dress is a good idea."

"I'm sorry Elvis, I can't write you a prescription."

"No Charlie. I don't think living with porn stars is a good environment for your kids...No, I don't think that tiger's blood is for consumption. And one other thing...No. You are definitely NOT winning."

I am not saying that dogs at the dinner table = drug use = death. I'm just saying that in many ways, big and small, the world would be a better place if sometimes we came from a place of "No."

Hello...Yeah...It's Been A While.....

2011-09-02T23:50:00.000-07:00

....Not much. How 'bout you?

OK - I'm lying. A LOT has been going on, but let's ease into it.

The blog is back baby. It's back with a new look, some new features (please vote in my weekly poll!), and a lot of catching up to do. But we'll get there, I mean it.

I feel really energized when September rolls around. It just feels like it's time to hit the reset button.

School has started and my mind goes back to my favorite teacher, Miss Carvo, who told me on more than one occaision, "A writer writes." She also would listen to whatever I said I wanted to do and would say two words, "Get going."

So here I am.

Like most of the world, a couple of years ago I began a love affair with Facebook which has been wonderful for so many reasons. But it seems that my desire to comment on my FB friends' snappy statuses and write my own, coupled with me churning out more and more stand up comedy, kept me from here.

But that's only part of the story.

The other part is that these past 2 years have been difficult and filled with a lot of sad, life-changing events. (Wait, wait, wait!!! Don't leave!) And while I always pride myself on finding humor in times of stress, times of deep sorrow are completely different. While I have a desire to share my thoughts and emotions with you my dear reader, I wonder if all the tough stuff is really what you are looking for when you come here.

Plus, there's certain things I just wasn't ready to talk about. I may never be ready to talk about them. Sometimes this makes me feel dishonest. Life is full of lots of things happening at once, but how does it look to put out a cute story for the masses about something adorable my daughter said, when at the same time my uncle was dying? Can my content still be personal without being so personal?

When something deep is happening, can I still swim in the shallow end of the pool? Will you meet me there?

I think I am learning that the answer is yes. I think I am realizing that I need to trust my readers more. If you know something big is happening in the world and it doesn't show up in the blog, I have to trust that you won't judge me. I'll talk about it when I'm ready. Or I won't.

And if I don't address the elephant that some of you know is in the room, that OK too, right? After all, it's my elephant and this is my room.

I write all of this knowing full well that I am breaking a blogging rule - Don't talk about how you have been remiss in blogging on your blog. Well, sorry. I guess I'm just a rule breaker.

I will keep writing and adding elements and making changes to keep things fresh. I'll fill in the gaps and keep you up to date. I hope you will comment so I know that you are here. I hope you will share posts you like with your friends.

I want to get back on this train and see where it takes me. When I started blogging 6 years ago, it took me to the stage as a stand up comic. Who knows where it will go next?

Who's with me?

Google Stole My Brain

2011-09-02T12:21:00.000-07:00

I know a lot of stuff. Just ask my husband. He will tell you I said so.

Just ask my kids. I force them to watch "Jeopardy" every night just so I can show off. While I probably shouldn't be so proud to know so much about "Potent Potables" (Cleared the category!), nothing gives me more pleasure than amazing them with my rapid-fire answers (in the form of questions of course). Let's face it, it's no fun shouting, "What is the Guggenheim?" to an empty room.

There are times that I don't always know what I thought I knew, or used to know. Back in the day, I had to call my mother for this type of information.

"What was the name of the actor in "Rebel Without a Cause" - not James Dean."

"Sal Mineo."

Ah! Thanks Mom! I feel better now!

Mom was the original Google.

Here's the only problem with Mom-as-Google: I can't call just to get the tidbit of info I need. I have to also have an actual conversation. Now, don't get me wrong, I love talking to my mother, but my trivia needs are many and varied. We are talking a lot of calls. At any given hour it could go like this:

"Hey Mom, what's that gum paste candy called?"
"Marzapan."
CLICK!

"Tony Curtis's real name?"
"Bernie Schwartz."
CLICK!

"That ship that sank? Not the Titanic."
"The Andrea..."
CLICK!
"...Doria. Got it."

That's just rude!

Also, it's not always convenient to call Mom anyway. So, I'd have to save up my queries and remember them later.

Then one day, God gave us Google, and it was good.

Now, I don't have to remain curious about anything for long. In addition, my questions are usually answered with words and pictures and video clips.

Wiki-pedia has replaced the encyclopedia (remember THOSE?). Never mind accuracy or truth. It's INSTANT ANSWERS! The day I can walk over to a bookshelf and shout, "Why does my cat purr?" and a book comes flying off and opens itself up the relevant page, reads itself to me and shows me adorable kitten videos, well, then I would give up Google. But that's not going to happen.

One of my favorite things is to Google part of a song lyric that I sort-of-kind-of heard half of and .25 seconds later - there it is. Wow!

I'm quite certain there is an epedemic of web self-diagnosing going on. On more than one occaision, I've walked into the doctor with the name of the medication I was sure I needed. Let those who have not Googled a symptom cast the first stone.

I have spent many a sleepless night researching whatever is worrying me within an inch of its life. In theory, knowledge is power. In reality, I wish I could Google my problem and have Google answer with, "Don't worry Joanne. Everything's going to be OK."

On some level, I'm sure there are synapes dying because Google. The stuff I used to have to reach way back into my brain to remember is now literally at my fingertips.

The beauty of the search engine - that nothing is unknowable - it also the thing that makes me uneasy. While I love Google, Google Earth creeps me out. The camera swooping down from outer-space until it gets to my driveway is disconcerting(is that me in the window??). No more naked pilates!

We also love to Google because if ever there is a debate about a correct answer, we have an uninterested 3rd party to resolve the issue. And by the way, women are correct 73% more often than their husbands.

I know it's true because I Googled it.

Reunions

2009-08-23T15:19:00.000-07:00

Reunions are funny things. I had two this summer that were very different from each other. One was my 25th (!) High School Reunion and the other was the reunion with family and friends in Lake George, NY.

A lot of my High School reunion seemed to be about how I was presenting myself. It was one night. One dress. One shot at my hair being "right." What image was I going to project?

My niece called me on the day of the party to ask, "Are you walking in alone or are you meeting a friend before? Do you at least have friends holding a seat for you at a table?" I hadn't even thought about these things. I will walk into anywhere by myself. I have never been intimidated by social situations of any kind, and I wasn't this time either. But, how do you sum up 25 years over the course of a few sentences:

I graduated from St. John's with a degree in Communications.
I got married to my college sweetheart.
I worked in radio in NY.
I moved to Ohio and worked in radio there.
I have two children.
I am a stand up comic.
I am a substitute teacher.

Great. What does that really say about me? Am I the same girl they knew from High School or am I changed? You know the answer dear reader, I am both.

My true friends from way back when, they know this. The acquaintances were perhaps intrigued by a couple of the facts and maybe surprised that I wasn't an awkward 16 year old any more. To quote a classmate on my Facebook page, "I have to say, you look great." This is a perfectly lovely compliment that I cannot help but think implies that I am something other than what she expected based on the girl she knew back then.

And that's great. 16 is not fully grown. Not physically, not emotionally. Sometimes I don't think I really came into my own until 20 years later.

Geez, the more I write, the more narcissistic I sound.

The second reunion of the summer - the Lake George/Casale/DiBella/Leo reunion - was easier. Let's spend some real time together. Let's feed each other. Let's meet each other's kids. Let's play cards. Let's be ourselves and laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

You would think there would be a moment of awkwardness or times of stilted formality with people you haven't seen in decades.

You would think that my brother Paul would think twice before bursting into our "cousin" Diane's cabin saying, "Who said something about coffee?" in his typical funny way. No. There isn't a second thought. Instead it's just Diane laughing that laugh she's always laughed as she puts up a pot of espresso. Cabin G (for Graziosi?) quickly became the coffee house all week.

Charlie DiBella has suggested that the whole thing is genetic. Casales love DiBellas and Leos and back and forth and sideways because our fathers love each other. It's on our DNA. Because they are comari - an Italian word that means they are closer than friends - we are all bound. It's scientific! He might be right. It makes as much sense as anything. Thank you Science!

I think about my Dad and the relationships that he has had with Sal and Uncle Frankie since he was 10. How remarkable that is. How rare. And I wonder - What kept these relationships as a constant through his life and ours? What is the tie that binds these men and these families together? And one word comes back: Love.

I love my uncles and aunts and cousins and friends of our family because my parents have. In turn, we, "the kids" are bonded and want to know each other's spouses and children. We don't worry about what we are wearing. This is a true reunion. These are the times where I see my brothers and sisters for who they are. These will be the strongest memories my nieces and nephews will have of me. This is the kind of experience you build on. But you have to continue to make the effort. The vacations of our childhoods have brought us here. In so many ways it's due to my father.

My father. My relationship with my father has gone through many stages. He was my first love. My definition of a man. He was my adversary even as he was the one I tried to please. He was my harshest critic at times and completely in my corner at others. I think I confused him sometimes. I'm not sure I'm what he expected. He yelled a lot and was, it can be argued, unreasonably strict, but he has the softest heart. He worries even as he beams when he sees my children. He puzzles me. I graduated from college and got a medal from the University's President, but when does he tell me he's proud of me? When I pump my own gas at the BP.

But now Daddy is mellow. At 75 he is sometimes not himself. But his love for all of us is always there.

And I wonder what I don't know about him. What has inspired the love and loyalty that his friends convey? Why is it that Sally DiBella tried to explain how he felt about my Dad to Frank's parents and got so choked up that he couldn't speak.

It's back to love again I suppose. Both of my parents have given me the gifts of their families and their friends because they decided to. They loved through the years, over the miles, in spite of the faults. They extended grace because they needed grace. They made the time. The gave in times of need. They held on to the people they loved through trying times and shared each other's joys literally, in sickness and in health.

And years ago my parents said to the family and to their friends, "Come with us to Lake George. It's beautiful. You'll love it. We'll have such a good time."

And we did.

Here are some photos my brother Louis took that I wanted to share. More to come....

Angelo and Diane Graziosi with my Mom. Diane is in her natural state: mid laugh.
My little cousin Cristina, SIL Doreen, Diane and Aunt Maria at our community lunch, lakeside.

Brother Louis, Aunt Maria, Rosemary and Sal DiBella, Dad and Mom

"The Boys" - My brother Louis Casale, Joe DiBella, my brother Paul, Charlie DiBella

Another family lunch poolside. My niece Jessica, Niece Megan, and Frankie. (More on the reunion and the importance of food soon.)

Will post HS reunion pics another time.

2009-08-14T02:02:00.000-07:00

In finishing the previous post that I started in June, I came across a quote that struck me as fitting in with my feelings of Lake George (stories of which I have just begun to tell). I have said that when we were in Lake George, I felt like our family was at it's best. It was our home away from home. This is the feeling Lake George gave me then and still gives me now. It is also the kind of home I hope I am raising my children in:

Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule. ~Frederick W. Robertson

I think it's a beautiful quote. What do you think?

Upon Returning Home from Home

2009-08-14T01:16:00.000-07:00

Written in June and finally finished. Some thoughts on home....

As I sit on my front porch, I am struggling with how to describe the scene without sounding cliche. It is nearly impossible.

Right now, the sky is blue but for a few white clouds. The sun is starting its descent but still hangs above the roof across the street. There is the most pleasant of breezes. I hear the sounds of birds, kids playing basketball, and a conversation between mother and child as they walk their dog. The lawns are green. The flowers are in bloom. My neighbor is teaching his son to ride a two-wheeler.

My daughter and her friends just made a plan to play "baby dolls" in our yard. My son is so excited about summer camp that he can't wait for tomorrow. A police cruiser does its nightly roll down our street. My cat just jumped up on my lap.

See what I mean? Sounds cliche.

This is not a cliche though, this is my home. When we built this house 9 years ago, we imagined the very life we have now. It's a neighborhood filled with families whose children have become my children's friends and playmates and whose parents are our friends and adopted family. My husband works from home and I'm home with the kids except when I am subbing or doing the comedy thing. We live a happy, peaceful life that is ordinary and extraordinary all at the same time.

600 miles away is my other home. New York City. Brooklyn is where I grew up and Brooklyn/Staten Island/New Jersey is where most of my family remains. Besides my parents, sister and brothers, I have aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews, and even great-nieces and nephews now. Not to mention my life-long friends.

I just got back from a long visit that included a reunion with my college sorority and my 25th High School reunion. I always feel melancholy when I return from NY, but more so this time.

When I drive along the streets of NY, or walk through The City, I find myself pining for the life I might have had. I look at the houses in S.I. or in my brother's town in NJ, and in their shadows I can almost see my own family. For all the happiness we have found in Ohio, I know we could have been happy in NY too. I can see weekends filled with family gatherings, really being a part of everyone's lives instead of being the missing link or the special visitor that has to try to see everyone I love and miss in the span of a week (which is impossible). I know I would be watching the new babies of my nieces and nephews. My children would be part of their cousins' and aunts' and uncles' and grandparents' lives.

I can see myself at my sister's house, watching the American Idol finale. Frank could play golf with my brothers. I would take advantage of everything The City has to offer. We'd be in the center of it all and I would take the kids to the best museums, concerts and parks. We'd explore and learn. We would go to the beach.

My career was just getting off the ground when we left. Sometimes I think that I could have been producing or writing for TV. I took my passion for broadcasting and left the center of it all. It's hard not to say "what if?" It's easy to speculate.

But I have to be honest and say that at the time of our decision to move to Ohio, I was very disillusioned with what Radio had become, and Frank was extremely unhappy with work. We were married a few years and didn't really have a lot of time together with our crazy, opposite schedules, never mind having time with our family and friends. The reality was work, traffic, expensive tolls and parking, and stress. The dream was having kids and me staying home with them. The dream was owning our own home and having time to enjoy it. The dream was my husband working but not feeling trapped. And so we moved.

What I realize now is that when I imagine life in NY, essentially my life here transplanted there,I am not really being honest with myself. Everything would be different. I might have had kids, but they wouldn't be these kids, especially considering the medical intervention it took to have them and that the doctors were in Ohio. I would have friends, but would I trade the friends I have made here or the experiences I've had? No. Would I trade the time I had with my grandparents or Aunt El and Uncle Stan who all lived here? No. It seems that I have traded all of that for my family back home, but in some ways I have the best of both worlds. When my parents see my kids, it's special and meaningful. I've vacationed with my siblings and their families, something we may not have done if we lived around the corner.
If I'm going to try to imagine life there, I have to imagine it completely different than here.

Seeing my Sorority friends after 20 years was amazing. They are beautiful and smart. They lawyers and teachers, parents and volunteers. And after all these years, still dear friends. As a sorority we are "sisters" which also sounds cliche but is true. I loved those girls and still do.

I am so proud of who they are and amazed with how much we all have in common.

The same can be said for my High School friends, who, honestly, actually started as my Junior High School friends. What do you say about the bonds that you form with the girls with whom you shared your deepest secrets and went through your firsts with: First crush. First kiss. First boyfriend? These are forever bonds. Bonds that are inexplicably there after all this time.

Although moving to Ohio meant I couldn't have these friends in my daily life, I took them with me. Because of them, I knew what a friend looked like when I saw one. I have been blessed with the most wonderful, interesting, funny, loyal and dependable friends here.

So maybe the answer really is that I have the best of both worlds. Instead of thinking of what I have subtracted, I should think of what and who I have added.

My "new" friends in Ohio are fast becoming my old friends and my old friends are new again. (Thanks to the reunions and the miracle that is Facebook!) My family will always be my family.

There are so many sayings about HOME:
Home is a shelter from storms - all sorts of storms. ~William J. Bennett

Where we love is home,
Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.
~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., Homesick in Heaven

Where thou art - that - is Home. ~Emily Dickinson

To me, what Emily Dickinson has written makes sense, but I cannot limit my "thou" to one person (though she might have been). "Thou" to me is plural and includes everyone I love, here and there.

So I will decide to consider myself lucky, and call both places "home."

Arrivals - Lake George Part 3

2009-07-16T17:17:00.000-07:00

Frank and the kids and I left for Lake George on Friday, stopping a few hours south and spending the night as to break up the 736 mile drive. We had friends and family coming from NYC, New Jersey, and Florida, and we were all meeting at The Twin Birches.

Quick road story: On 71 North I see a large billboard that read, "Next Exit: Grandpa's Cheesebarn." I poke Frank and point at the sign. "Oh, we are totally stopping there," he says, "I was going to stop at 150 miles for a break anyway." When we get out of the car, they kids are confused. It's not a Flying J Travel Center or a McDonald's, "Are we really stopping here?" Lindsey asks.

"Yes!" I answer, "It's a local attraction!"

"Yeah," says Frankie, "It's like The Statue of Liberty, only it's a cheesebarn."

The barn is large and full of rooms. Frankie points out that the music playing sounds like "a hillbilly Octoberfest." Damn, my kids are clever.

There are arrows everywhere directing us to the cheese. It is written on the carpet in yellow tape, C-H-E-E-S-E. These people are excited about their cheese. They have weird cheese flavors like Strawberry Shortcake Cheese and Pickle Cheese. I hold up one of the products and Frankie whispers it's name, "Cheese Bag." We start imagining the family that owns the place. We think that they probably make jokes like, "Grandpa, stop being so cheesy!" and "Hey, who cut the cheese."

We don't buy any cheese. But this whole thing is now in my stand up act. So, it was worth it.

Back to Twin Birches....

Years after our time our children in the housekeeping cottages my mother found on the mountain, my brother Paul found Twin Birches and started the going up with his wife Andrea and her sisters and their families and friends, as well as my brother Louis and his family. We joined them a couple of times, although Lindsey was not old enough to remember.

On the road Saturday, Frank and I stopped at a McDonald's just south of Saratoga Springs. Lindsey wass hungry, we all needed a pit stop and I needed coffee. As we pulled in to the parking lot, I had a strange feeling and thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if we ran into someone from our family here?" I didn't say anything to Frank, because it seemed like a silly thought, but as we head inside, he says to me, "Look! It's your father and Uncle Sal!"

So, before the official reunion, we had a mini-reunion right there in McDonald's with my Mom and Dad and my Aunt and Uncle. My mother was very excited and wanting me to tell stories right then and there and I was like, "Mom! We have all week! We have to pace ourselves. Plus, between me, Paul, Uncle Sal and Sally DiBella, someone's head it going to explode!"

We all head back to the thruway and as we get off the exit I don't need the directions anymore. We make the left on Route 9 at the house that I have always called "The Castle" and head to our home for the week. I look at my window and catch my first glimpse of the lake. My stomach does a little jump and I clap to myself.

Route 9 is lined with motels and housekeeping cottages. Some are kitchy and stuck in the 50's with their neon signs that read "Capri Village," "Melody Manor," and "Surfside on the Lake." Others evoke a Native American Spirit, although "Mohican Motel" would make
Hawkeye roll over in his grave.

As we pull into the driveway of Twin Birches, we see Frank's father, already comfortable in an Adirondack chair. My in-laws came up for the night to hang with us. They used to vacation up here too. We approach the office to check it and it seems we've all arrived at once, my sister and Peter, Andrea and the kids, Louis and his family.

It's tradition for us to check in, check out our cabins, and then make the rounds to everyone else and check out their cabins. Our unit is Lake View 1, more of an apartment than a cabin. The accomodations are very nice. At Twin Birches they keep up with everything. It's almost too perfect. I miss the creaky door of the cabin on Trout Lake Road, the bannister made out of a tree branch, the funny little latches on the bedroom doors, the mismatched furniture. We even have cable TV and a telephone here! (Although honestly, I didn't watch anything all week.)

I go upstairs to say hi to my sister-in-law Doreen and somehow, yet not suprisingly, her "cabin" smells like food. My sister's place is a few doors down, but I have to step over a large, smelly dog that belongs to our neighbor. (More on that later.) We can see the gameroom from our front porch and are a short walk to the pool. As my Mom and I stand on porch, a lady begins to wave at us. The lady turns out to be my "cousin" Diane, my Uncle Frankie's daughter. I think the last time I saw her was on my wedding day almost 19 years ago. She looks exactly the same.

I am pretty amazed by how little everyone's changed.

We all start to congregate on the driveway near my parents' cabin. There I see Sally DiBella and his wife Rosemary and Sal's son Joe, who I would know anywhere though I haven't seem him in 25 years. The hugs continue as Sally's other son, Charlie, comes walking down the hill. He is wearing the same smile he always wore, like the Cheshire Cat. Joe comments on how he thinks he saw Louis' daughter and Paul's son earlier. He's never met them, but somehow he saw the faces of his friends in them. I love that. Joe and Charlie are the same ages as my brothers. I am the little sister so this means the boys shifted between teasing me, ignoring me, and occaisionally letting me hang with them. The last time we were all here together, we were kids. Now we are all parents.

I am excited to see how our kids will get along. As we continue to get reaquainted and smile and laugh, I know it is going to be a great week.

...Part 4 soon....

Lake George - Part Two - The Sally Factor

2009-07-14T15:53:00.000-07:00

I haven't even scratched the surface with the Lake George stories of the past, and I'm sure some of you who were a part of those stories are thinking, "Hey, what about the time....?" The thing is, when you are talking about 12 years of stories with a rotating cast of characters who are, well, characters, it's hard to navigate it all. So, I think I will start with the present, sprinkle it with the past and see where it takes us.

It all started with a plan hatched by my father's dear friend, Sally DiBella. You see, my dad made a bunch of friends when he was 10 and then he stopped. 65 years later, they are still friends and love each other like crazy. Just talking about my father brings tears to Sally's eyes. Oh, hang on. I forgot something. Let me get this out of the way right now. Sally is a man. Yes folks, we are Italian and Salvatores abound. Where there are Salvatores, there are Sals, Sallys, and Sally-boys. In fact, until I moved to Ohio, the only Sallys I knew were men.

The DiBellas were one of the many families that joined us on those vacations many years ago. Sal is hilarious and very animated and tells a great story. He has a thick Brooklyn accent and an infectious laugh. In the 70's, he was mistaken for Telly Savalas. Can you guess which one is him?

Nice work! Pictured here are: My "Uncle" Frank Leo, Sally, my father, and my Uncle Sal (Dad's baby brother).

Anyway, Sally DiBella wanted to have a Lake George reunion and although all of the families from the past could not make it, several of us could. I knew I was going to be in NYC the month before for my HS reunion, and I knew it was Little League All-Star season, but like I told Frank, "We have to go. My whole family will be there and the kids need to meet Sally." We were on board. All-in-all, 10 cabins, 38 people.

More on that later.

One famous Sally/Lake George story (and there are quite a few) is the year he decided to come with his sons, Joe and Charlie, in a rented Winnebago. Each boy was allowed to bring one friend and they would drive up and camp. 4 guys in a camper. Not too terrible. But 4 quickly became 5 as one of the friends had a sad looking brother who wanted to come to. Add a little poodle named Suzette and it was a recipe for disaster. By the time they made camp in Lake George, Sally had a gash in his head from an encounter with a cabinet door and he managed to empty the camper's "waste" receptacle onto himself. When we went to visit the campsite, they were having a little birthday celebration for one of the boys and Sally thought it would be funny to write "Happy Birthday" on his head in icing. It was funny. Sal was looking in the mirror and so it was backwards. I wish I had a picture of it!

Here are some other pics from this year....
My sister Audrey and brother-in-law Peter.

Aunt Maria, my Mom, and Rosemarie DiBella. (Ugh! Blurry!)

And speaking of Aunt Maria, may I proudly present her husband, my uncle and Godfather, Salvatore...Sal...or should I say, Sally Casale:

I think this speaks for itself. I didn't call this "The Sally Factor" for nothing.

...To be continued, dear reader, to be continued....

Lake George - Part One

2009-07-13T08:58:00.000-07:00

Lake George, NY, in the Adirondack Mountains. A beautiful place, to be sure, but so much more than that for me. It is the place where my family went on vacation every year from when I was about 3 or 4 until I was a teenager. It's where, I think, my family was at it's best. It's where some of my happiest, and strongest memories start. From the butterflies in my stomach as I watched my father pack the car on the night before we left, to the sight of the lake peeking out between the trees as we drove on Route 9, to the smell of the cabin we rented year after year.

Lake George has always been magical to me.

It wasn't a "fancy" vacation at a resort. There was no room service. There was no concierge. We rented a housekeeping cottage on a mountain with a pool, a playground, and a gorgeous view of the lake. We were 4 hours north of Brooklyn, but we might as well have been in another world. It felt that way to me. Especially at night when the stars came out. I never saw stars like that before.

There were 13 cabins in a horseshoe on the property. Ours was the only 2-story house and my parents quickly dubbed it "The Ponderosa." The first year it was just our immediate family plus Aunt El and Uncle Stan, but each summer after that we seemed to add more and more family and friends. Soon, we had 11 out of the 13 cabins. The place was crawling with Casales! Aunts, Uncles, cousins and friends of the family...at any given time there could be 40 or 50 of us.

We were the lucky ones. Besides the big cabin, we stayed for two weeks. Here is how my mother tricked herself into saving for our vacation: My Dad got paid every other week, but my mother budgeted for twice a month. This way, when he would get an extra paycheck or two during the year, she would pretend he didn't and save it. She also claimed one less dependent on their taxes so that when they got their refund check, they had money for "the country."

Yes, "the country." It was the country to us. We were city kids who grew up with stoops and handball courts, not lakes, creeks and woods. To go fishing and frogging and swimming in a pool everyday? Unheard of.

I had a freedom there that I didn't have at home. We lived on a busy avenue in Brooklyn and my parents really didn't let me out of their sight. But in Lake George we didn't have to worry about cars or strangers. We would run out of the cabin to play after breakfast (sometimes eating breakfast in another relative's kitchen) and then head to the pool where we swam until our lips were blue. We'd go up for lunch, or the grownups would bring lunch down to us. (Of course, we had to wait a half an hour before getting back in the pool! Does anyone even do that anymore?)

After showers and dinner, we'd play until nightfall. My Mom would braid my damp hair and put me in a sweatshirt. She'd hose me down with OFF and my cousin Paul and I would go look for good marshmallow roasting sticks. My father and uncles with start the fire (later this became a job for my brothers and boy cousins). We'd put the Adirondack chairs in a circle around the fire. My Uncle Sal would take out his guitar and sing silly songs. My father and his brothers would harmonize and sing "Blanche." This is how I like to think about my father and my uncles; singing and smiling with their arms around each other. There wasn't a person around that fire who wasn't exactly where they wanted to be. When you look around the circle and every face is someone you love and someone who loves you, why would you want to be anywhere else?

My Dad would wake up early some mornings to fish. My Mom would lay out by the pool and get brown as a berry. The boys of the family would practice dives off the board. The girls would have "tea parties" under the water. When it rained, we would play games and cards on the porch and put pots on the floor to catch the drips from the ceiling.

Lake George is where I fell in love with the sound of the screen door slamming.

Lake George is where I learned to swim.

Lake George is where I went on vacation this year.

(To be continued....)

Adventures in Subbing - Weird Science

2009-04-20T05:32:00.000-07:00

Last week I was the Anatomy and Biology teacher at the High School. Science is not my strong suit, but it is higher on my knowledge scale than Math, and I do remember a lot of what I learned and since I find it interesting, it is easy enough to just read the material and teach. (Holy run-on sentence! Just as I was going to say that English/Language arts is what I am most qualified for!)

Understand that when I say I am "teaching," many times I mean taking attendance, watching a video with the kids and trying to stay awake. Monday was one of those days. We watched a show called "Designer Babies." The video was about 10 years old and talked about the "new" technologies of choosing the sex of your child, screening embryos for disease, and picking everything from hair color to eye color to IQ.

"Designer Babies?" one of the students asked, "Who would want that?"

"Are you kidding?," I joked, "Who wants ugly, stupid, uncoordinated babies?? Nobody."

Given my history with infertility (see the series on this starting here ), I certainly have nothing against the mix of technology and baby making, but...

The video introduced us to a couple who had no fertility issues, but had health issues in their family. Diabetes was the one they were afraid of in particular. They had seen family members suffer and did not want to pass the disease on to their children. They decided instead to "pick perfect" and use an egg and a sperm that were both "screened for health" and have the embryo implanted in the wife. She was adamant that this was a smart choice. I should add that both parents were overweight, and I'm not judging anyone on that matter, but diabetes is not just a question of nature but also of nuture. The poor health habits of the parents may very well lead to the disease they think they are "putting a stop to."

I wonder also, if they were able to screen for other things besides physical health. How do they know they are not making a very healthy serial killer?

I started to think about the first time that kid sneezes. Will they bring him back to the clinic? "Our baby done broke! Is he still under warranty? He's been leakin' since the day we brought him home! This was not in the brochure."

I'm Not Who I Was

2009-04-14T13:53:00.000-07:00

I wanted to share a song that chokes me up in a good way every time I hear it. I can't figure out exactly why it does, it just does.

It's called, "I'm Not Who I Was" by Brandon Heath. The YouTube link is here. It's not a great video by any means, but I love the song. The video is short on details, which I think is a good thing. The song is about a relationship from years ago and how the singer has changed and forgiven the other person for past hurts. The video doesn't give us any clues as to who he is singing about- it could be a parent, a friend, a girlfriend - we never really know. What we do know is he wants this person to know a few things that he has changed, learned some things about himself and that he really is OK now.

The song makes me think of so many things. In a very big way, it reminds me of my husband and his birth mother who he had little contact with since he was around 5, and has had no contact with for over 20 years. The story is a long one, and really not mine to tell, but Frank has amazed me with his capacity to get past the pain that something like that must have inflicted. He has never dwelled on it, isn't angry about it, but at the same time, he doesn't really understand it. (Even less so since we have had children.) I'm not sure if he is even as emotionally invested as the singer or would even dream saying the things the lyrics do. Frank is happy with the life he has now and is not concerned with that aspect of his past. It's a healthier attitude than the one I would have I think. So, anyway, the point of all that is, this is one of the things the song makes me think of.

The other thing I find interesting is to think about the statement, "I'm not who I was." My past has become part of my present very recently with old High School friends popping up on Facebook and my 25th Reunion coming up this June. In many ways, I feel that I have changed from the 16 year old girl I was then. And, in many ways, I feel like I am exactly the same.

There is a short hand with the people you know when you are a kid. Maybe it's the shared experiences, growing up in the same type of families, neighborhoods, going to the same school. I think another part of it is that when you bond with someone during your formative years - which sounds like such a goofy phrase, but really, those years are when you are becoming who you are - it's no small thing. I feel like the people who knew me then still know me now, regardless of how much I've changed.

I actually tend to think that I'm still who I was, but the years give you a different viewpoint from which to look at yourself self and others and the world. In some aspects of my life, I have always been confident and have remained so. Maybe I just needed the freedom to dare.

It's funny how the kids I went to school with who were sort of on the edges of my life remember me as "quiet" and "nice" and "smart". (I'm still trying to figure out if I was popular or not.) And while I hope my closest friends thought of me as nice and smart, I'm not sure "quiet" would be one of the first words they'd use to describe me. They are not surprised that I am a writer or even a comic. Could it be that at our core we are still the same?

In the end though, the song is really about forgiveness and moving on. It's about extending grace to people, even people that may not deserve it, because that's how you heal. And because sometimes, you will need grace extended to you.

There has been talk among the high school friends, we say things like, "If I knew then what I know now..." or "Don't you wish you could go back with your 40 year old mind and attitude?" Sometimes. It might be fun a few days. But I don't want a "do-over." The truth is - good times, bad times, mistakes, triumphs and everything in between - I wouldn't be who I am if I wasn't who I was.

Gratitude Post

2009-03-28T18:38:00.000-07:00

20 Things I'm Grateful for This Week (in no particular order):

1. For H. For being my friend and the cruise director for our ever-expanding circle. You make my life better.

2. For Frank. For working so hard and making me a part of things.

3. For Jack. My comedy partner. It's so great to have someone from that world who I trust completely. Working with him is a blast. He always boosts my confidence. If I don't talk to him 6 times a day, something is wrong.

4. Substituting at Butler High School. I love it. To be told that I am good at it by the teachers and the staff is such a great feeling. I've made some new friends this week and I will be filling in for 2 weeks as a Social Studies teacher when he is out on paternity leave. I am really excited about it.

5. I'm grateful for my college degree which enables me to teach.

6. For Terri. For making my family a part of her family and including us in their lives and always thinking of us on the holidays. It means a lot to us and takes the sting out of missing my family in NY.

7. Laughing with my sister Audrey on the phone this week. I think we can talk about TV all day long.

8. Frankie still gives me hugs and kisses everyday.

9. For my black and white gingham Mary Jane wedge Keds with the red lining. They are adorable.

10. Performing at the New Carlisle Eagles last week was a blast.

11. For my friend, comic Mark Eddie, for making me part of his show and believing in me.

12. Lindsey standing on my bed and watching herself shake her groove thing to "Shake Your Groove Thing."

13. Billy Joel's "The Bridge." I listened to it on my walks this week. A great album. "Getting Closer" makes me feel good.

14. JD's custard in Englewood right next to Uncle Stan's Assisted Living place. When I bring Uncle a vanilla custard, it makes him so happy.

15. My Facebook friends. Old, new and everything in between. I love it there.

16. Watching good movies with the kids...Monsters Vs. Aliens is funny! Go see it. We came home with 3 catchphrases. ("What the flagnon??!!")

17. Poetry. Neruda. Frost. cummings and the rest. I love the power of words.

18. The car only needed oil. Oh, and a new door handle. So I don't have to roll down my window to get out of my car. Although, man, did I ever look classy.

19. My washer and dryer. After working all week, I had like 8 loads of laundry to do today. So much better than beating the clothes against a rock.

20. The song "I'm Not Who I Was" which touches me in a way I can't explain. It's all about grace and it's beautiful.

Lousiville - Part Two

2009-01-17T21:15:00.000-08:00

January 2nd saw us heading down to Louisville with the kids. The plan was to see the town as a family by day until it was time for me to work at The Comedy Caravan. We had the club's two bedroom condo all to ourselves, a quirky place in an old house in a great neighborhood just a few blocks from Bardstown Road. Here are the highlights:

The Lousiville Slugger Museum: A jewel of Museum Row, the museum has a huge baseball bat leaning against the building, about 3 stories high. Inside, we took the factory tour and learned how the bats were made and all received a mini-bat at the end of the tour. Fun!

On day two we hit The Louisville Science Center, also on Museum Row. This cavernous hands-on children's museum was fun for the kids, but I'd rather look at art.

Day three found us at The Speed Art Museum, where, upon entering the building, Lindsey saw a closeup of this painting by Alice Neel and said, "Mama! That girl looks like me!"

Once again, my daughter amazes me. We were anxious to get inside to see the painting in person.

In general, we were more in our element here. Lindsey enjoys all art, from sculptures, to paintings, to multi-media installations. Her mind is just open. She doesn't have a preconceived notion of style. She just likes what she likes and is not limited the way an adult might be.

Frankie was thrilled with the ancient art exhibit. The idea of being in the same room with vessels from ancient Greece and Rome was so exciting. He thinks he wants to be an archeologist someday. I say, if you want to teach history, great, but I can't see you as an archeologist. I keep asking him if the idea of camping under harsh conditions appeals to him, because, you know, I don't think he'll "dig" it.

On the last day, we were back on Museum Row at The Frazier Museum of International History. The had an interactive Sherlock Holmes installation that we all really got into. The rest of the museum was guns and swords and the history of weapons. There was much about England and Knights, Cowboys, and Civil War Battles....interesting, but not my cup of tea. My brother Louis would have eaten it up.

Frank had places for us to eat all lined up and we also found some cool places on the fly.

What struck me most about Louisville was that everywhere we went, everywhere, everyone was nice. Not in a phony "Have-A-Nice-Day" kind of way, but in a sincere and truly friendly way. People engaged you and look genuinely happy to be exactlyl where they were doing exactly what they were doing. Whether it was a waitress, a museum docent, or a shop clerk, everyone was just great.

My week at the club went well too. I had the please of working with Keith McGill and Stewart Huff. Stewart is a master story teller who can "describe the s**t out of stuff." Watching him take the audience down the meandering paths of his mind was a treat. Everyone at the club was kind and generous. I hope to get back there soon.

I love when we get away as a family and explore new places. All we have is each other when we are away from home, and we really function as a little unit. Times like these make me really see what an adventure life can be and as we discover new places, we discover things about each other.

Louisville - Part One

2009-01-12T18:59:00.000-08:00

Last November, Frank and I headed down to Louisville where I was to showcase for work at The Comedy Caravan. This was a momentus occasion for a couple of reasons. First of all, Frank hardly ever gets to see me do stand up. He is always holding down the fort at home. Secondly, this was only the second time in 12 years, 12 years, that we have spent a night away from the kids. It was long over due.My great friends and neighbors took the kids and we headed to Kentucky.

The drive down saw the flatness of Ohio give way to hills and rock that reminded me of upstate NY. I was charmed by the lovely houses, tree-lined streets and the shops on Bardstown Road.

The showcase was on a Thursday night, 10pm. We assembled in the bar/lounge as we waited for the show to be over in the main showroom. Frank looked over at the small stage and mic on the far end of the room and said, "I wonder why that's here? Maybe the show is in here?" He was joking, but saw quickly that the possibility of the show being in a room with 6 comics and me was not appealing. He saw me change color a few times as the thought settled in and the facts were laid out. Yes, the show was in that room.

I was happily surprised to see the lounge fill up as tables were moved in. 40-50 people in the lounge made for a great audience in an intimate setting. I got up and gave a great 7 minutes. One of the managers expressed interest in me on the spot and said they would hire me for sure. I was thrilled. Everyone could not have been nicer.

The next day, thanks for Frank's research, we ate in the wonderfully quirky "Lynn's Paradise Cafe." Known for it's breakfasts, Lynn's was recently featured on "Throwdown with Bobby Flay." Lynn won. Great eggs, amazing french toast, delicious coffee. I was sold.

We were excited at the idea of coming back with the kids. Little did we know it would be so soon!

(Part Two - Tomorrow?)

Flat On My Back

2009-01-07T18:34:00.000-08:00

We've been travelling quite a bit lately. Home to NY for the holidays, back for one day and then off to Louisville for a long weekend. I'm not sure if it was all the driving, or the high heels, or all the walking, or the walking in high heels, but yesterday I found myself stiff and crooked, my left hip higher than my right, with a shooting pain down both my legs.

I've thrown my back out before. I am never doing anything heroic when I strain my back. I'm never pushing my car up a hill or lifting a piano off of a small child. It's always something dumb like I squeezed my toes too hard while wearing flip flops. About 5 years ago, I was attempting to get up from tying Frankie's shoe when I tipped over and could not get up. It was a few days before I could even get to the doctor for muscle relaxers. I was laid up for a week.

I had thought about going to a chiropractor before, but I was a little scared. A couple of years ago, I was visiting my girlfriend Lisa whose boyfriend is a chiropractor. I let him crack my neck, but I didn't want to get on the table. The chiropractor discussion has come up again since I have been in touch with an old friend from High School who is a chiropractor. Darin lives in California and we (along with a ton of my other H.S. friends) have been having fun getting to know each other again on the very addicting Facebook. (How addicting? Well, I started there in September. Right around the same time I stopped writing here! But more on that another time.) Anyway, Darin really loves what he does and believes in it. I've been asking questions and pondering, but today I was forced into action. I had to go to a chiropractor.

First I chatted with Darin on Facebook and got some encouragement. I called a few places and then got a call back from Dr. M here in town. He was very nice over the phone and asked a lot of questions and actually seemed genuinely concerned. I headed over there at 4 and called Darin on the way there. I still had more questions. I had to leave a message - "I'm going to the chiropractor and I'm scared! And do I need to get naked?"

Dr. M brought me back to a small room with 2 stools, a little counter, a mirror, a medical drawing of the nervous system and a table that you might lay on to get a facial or to give birth. The table was upright when I walked in and more than a little scary looking. He lowered it and I think that scared me even more. Dr. M was very kind and we talked for a long time. He picked up his model of the spine about 40 times.

Finally, it was time to I lay on the table. But instead of just laying down on the table, he raised the table to a verticle position and I stood on a platform attached to the table, stuck my face in the place you put your face, held on to the back and he lowered me like the Bride of Frankenstein.

Dr. M said that my left leg look shorter than the right, a result of my left hip being higher than my right. I was so tense! He touched various parts of my neck and back and then went back to my feet to see if they had moved. I was like, "You're just making this up now, right?" He laughed. He was very good natured about everything.

First, he took a thing that looked like a belt sander and vibrated like a...like a very strong vibrating belt sander. He ran it up and down my back and legs. Awesome! Then he took out a little device called an "activator." It looks like a mini pogo stick that you hold in your hand. It is spring loaded. He basically aimed it at places on my back and pogoed me.

Then we got serious. I was surprised how much close contact is involved and how very physical it is. A few manipulations here and there and then I was on my side, an arm and a leg hanging over the table. I think at one point, one of my limbs was in between his legs and he pushed down with both his hands and I felt my hip pop. I also grunted. Which I think is bad form, but I'm not sure. (Darin said he's had a patient curse, which I think is hilarious. He also said that when he gets an adjustment, he yells out "AHHH! KELLY CLARKSON!" like the waxing scence from "The 40 Year Old Virgin." Also hilarious.)

A few minutes later, I was sitting up with my arms crossed across my chest. Dr. M wrapped his arm around my back and positioned his hand in the middle of back. I remember thinking that his breath smelled good. Then he laid me back down on the table quickly as he sort of hugged me, knocked the wind out of me and cracked about 5 vertebrae. This time I laughed!

He said, "Oh my! Poor thing! No wonder!" And he laughed too.

I said, "I don't know why I'm laughing!" I was a little embarrassed.

"'Cause it feels good!" he offered. And it did.

Dr. M told me that in his 30 years, he has seen people go from using walkers to running. He said, "If they did stuff like this at Miami Valley Hospital, it would be on the front page of the news." Like Darin, he is a true believer. And rightly so I think. I can see that back pain and illness is an accumulation of things. It's time to take better care of myself.

I see Dr. M again on Monday. He's going to help set me straight.

Music From the Museum Shop

2009-01-05T21:03:00.000-08:00

I have so many adventures to report. And I will. I will. I promise, I will.

Yes, you have reason to doubt, but it's a new year and all, and I have the best intentions. Yeah, yeah, I know there is a road paved with them, but I gotta start somewhere.

So, it's a quicky on music again.

We were in Louisville this weekend, Frank and the kids and I. I was hired, actually hired, to MC at a fantastic club called the Comedy Caravan. Louisville is full of the nicest, most engaging people. They are everywhere. No exceptions. Restaurants, at the club, the museums, you name it. But more on all that later this week.

Here's what happened with music. The whole fam was at the Frazier Museum, which, it turns out, is all about guns and armor and such. The was a severe lack of princesses and art and we needed a little break. The boys took a detour across the street to the Louisville Slugger Museum to order a custom engraved bat for Frankie. Lindsey and I took off down the block to the Kentucky Museum of Arts and Crafts to check of the gift shop. (All the museums are within a few blocks of each other, a genius idea and heaven for me.)

While in the shop, in between telling Lindsey, "Look with your eyes honey. That is a $300 vase," I heard an odd little voice singing and I had to find out who it was. No one was at the shop counter, but I asked the girl at the lobby desk about the music. What was it? Could I buy it?

"It's probably just a mix-tape somebody brought in....let me see," she offered kindly.

"It's just the one guy singing. Even if I can't buy it, I need to know who it is."

She checked the CD player, popped it out and wrote down, "Brett Dennen. So Much More."

I thanked her and if helping me wasn't enough, she gave me an excellent FREE poster with images from Museum Row and then recommended a restaurant. Nice, nice, nice.

The couple of songs I heard were cool. (Although honestly, his voice might be too much to take for more than a couple in a row.) I've locked onto those two songs, like years ago when I would play a 45 record over and over.

So check out Brett Dennen's "Because You Are A Woman" and "One Who Loves You The Most." Listen to the words too. You know me. I dig words. Hope you dig 'em too. Let me know!

They Just Don't Write Them Like That Anymore

2008-09-15T19:19:00.000-07:00

At the risk of turning this blog into a poor excuse for Rolling Stone, I'm writing about music again.

I was in the car last night, listening to some Best of the '70's show, when a classic from 1979 came on the radio. It was Donna Summer's "Bad Girls." A very, very dancable tune and of course, I know every word. ("Toot, toot, hey....Beep! Beep!")

I can remember dancing to this song at my cousins' Sweet 16's. Rose and Anna are a couple of years older than me, so I was 11 or 12. And we all sang along.

See them out on the street at night. (Walkin')
Pickin' up all kinds of strangers, if the price is right

And my parents got up and danced too.

Hey mister, have you got a dime?
Hey mister, do you wanna spend some time?

I'm pretty sure we all knew what she was singing about. I would change that song today if my daughter was in the car with me for fear she would ask me what it all meant.

I remember hearing a song in the car with my parents called "Afternoon Delight" and I asked them what the people were singing about. I was 9.

Thinkin' of you's workin' up my appetite, looking forward to a little afternoon delight...

My father looked at my mother and said, "Maybe they're talking about a matinee." And then they both busted out laughing.

Skyrockets in flight! Afternoon Delight!

I'm not sure how old I was when I figured out by "matinee" he didn't mean the 3 o'clock show at the theater. He meant sex. In the afternoon. With my mother.

I have to drink some wine now.

Music and Memory - U2. You Too?

2008-08-28T10:01:00.000-07:00

Frankie's getting more and more into music. He and I love downloading songs off of Rhapsody and making playlists. He told me recently that his favorite song is "Vertigo."

"It's by U2," he said. " Do you know them?"

Do I know them?!

I've been listening to U2 since 1982, when they hadn't really gone mainstream, but were the sweethearts of college stations everywhere.

My first boyfriend, Ernie, introduced me to U2 at the age of 15. He played guitar in a band. For the next two and a half years, on Saturday afternoons, I would sit in our friend Ricky's basement listening to the albums "War," "October" and "Boy" on headphones. Ricky was the drummer and I had to translate and write down the lyrics for singer/keyboard player James. We would hang out for hours while they practiced. Then we'd scrape some money together and order pizza or take a break and pick up some food. Ernie and I would go for a walk, talk, and do other boyfriend/girlfriend things.

Those were some great Saturdays.

Do I know U2?

Bono sang, and still sings, with such passion. The words have meaning and tell a story. They could be edgy, they could be tender, they could be hard-driving, they could be soulful.

All through college, U2 was there. My friend Sal Carvo turned himself into a Bono look alike. Somehow, Bono was able to rock his mullet. I guess Sal did too.

Duirng my senior year in college, and right before I met Frank, my friend Kenny asked me to go to a U2 concert with him. Kenny was one of my many male friends, but I kind of knew he liked me, though I denied it at the time. He was the sweetest guy, but just not for me, you know? It was probably bad behavior on my part to accept his invite when I knew I would never be more than friends with him. But hell. It was U2 at Madison Square Garden. So I went.

Bono had fallen off the stage the night before and dislocated his shoulder, but there he was onstage, arm in a sling, giving us an unbelievable show. No body ever looked so hot in a sling.

Frank and I met a week before the concert and I told him I was going with a friend. I knew when I heard he like U2 there was potential for us.

Hmm....it seems a lot of my U2 memories involve boys.

I remember being in my brother's house in '91, my nephew James was not even 2. My brother called me and Frank into the living room where James was coloring. He turned on "Mysterious Ways" with it's groovy little guitar riff in the beginning. James, not looking up from his coloring, starts rolling his shoulders - the right, then the left, then the right again - a total unconcious reaction to the music. Paul said he did it everytime the song went on. To this day, Frank and I do the same thing whenever we here the song too. I wonder if James does.

There was a bit of a mystique around the band too. Were they a Christian band? I think the answer is No and Yes. None of them has ever been shy about their faith, and many of their songs are message filled, but they are a rock band at heart.

Somehow guys named Larry Mullen, Jr. and Adam Clayton mixed with guys that called themselves Bono and The Edge and no one acted like jerks in public.

Much to the contrary. Look at Bono. He has used his influence to make an impact on a worldwide scale. Meeting with heads of state around the globe on behalf of the causes he believes in. Through (Red) and the One Campaign and other charities, he's leading the way to fight AIDS and poverty.

And yet, he's still a rock star.

Do I know U2?

I can't talk about the songs I love and why. There are just too many. But I will say this: The beginning of "Desire" might be the best first 5 seconds of a song ever. There's something about the way Bono says, "Yeah." It's pretty sexy. And as soon as he says it, I know exactly what he means.

I can remember from time to time when a popular 80's band would appear on the scence, music writers would say they were "the next Beatles." This was said about Men At Work and Duran Duran for goodness sake. I'm not sure if this was ever said about U2, but I'm not sure I even want to say it now. The Beatles were the Beatles. No one like them. And the same can be said about U2. Although it doesn't seem to stop the band Coldplay from trying.

They've been together since 1976. 32 years and they just keep making music. And somehow, everytime, it's just what I need.

I know U2. Yeah.

Am I A Bad Person?

2008-08-27T05:59:00.000-07:00

Here's why I ask:

1. School's in. And both kids are in all day. AND I LOVE IT!

2. I have terrible insomnia and asked my Dr. for a sleeping pill. He gave me Lunesta. I did a happy dance all the way to CVS and have taken it for two nights now. I slept like a stone and I LOVE IT.

3. Last week I was volunteering at charity auction. I was selling raffles tickets and doing a little hosting. I was modeling the necklace that was one of the prizes. I was wearing this dress:

A woman around my age, who I was trying to sell raffle tickets to, looked at the necklace at said. "You could have worn something less revealing. You are showing the necklace and men are going to be looking there all night." So I said, "Yeah. I really hate it when men look at me."

Dear Reader, Am I a bad person?

Day at the Museum

2008-07-17T15:52:00.000-07:00

The kids and I headed down to The Dayton Art Institute for a few hours today. Frankie loves looking at the ancient artifacts and art from other cultures. Lindsey seems to respond more to sculptures and paintings. It's pretty cool that my kids get excited about art. It's something that I have tried to make a part of their lives.

While walking through the Colonial American wing, I instructed the kids not to touch anything. Frankie was like, "We know that Mom." But I thought I should reiterate it because there was furniture on display and I didn't want them to think it was OK to touch.

Frankie looked at a silk upholstered setee and pretending to walk over to it and said, "I think I'm going to take a nap right here." Then he sat down on a bench that was meant for sitting on, but Lindsey was a little nervous.

"Frankie, can you sit on that?" We both told her yes.

"OK," she said, "Here's my plan for you Frankie. The only things in here that you can touch are that bench and the floor!"

We all laughed and Frankie said, "What about you Lindsey? Can I touch you?"

"No," she answered, "You can't touch me. I'm a work of art!"

Words of Wisdom

2008-07-15T09:11:00.000-07:00

I was at Friendly's with the kids and Lindsey's little friend and we were laughing and talking about our favorite new cartoon, "Phineas and Ferb." Lindsey was singing one of the songs from the show and changing the words around a bit. Frankie gave her some constructive criticism saying it sounded better without her changes.

Lindsey told him that he didn't have to say that. She said...

"If you don't have anything nice to say, shut your yapper!"

Words to live by.

Why I Can't Get Botox

2008-07-04T21:43:00.000-07:00

I can't get Botox because when I am onstage, apparantly I make this face:

And then there are other times that I seem to make this face:

But most of all, I can't get Botox because I really like to make this face:

But, you know, I'me not above a little lipo....

Happy Birthday Jessica

2008-07-01T08:57:00.000-07:00

That's "Jessica at Ten," a painting by my brother Paul Casale. This week, his daughter Jessica turns 12.
Paul really captured her here, not just the beauty of her face, but the thoughfulness in her eyes.

Jessica looks just like her Mom, but has the facial expressions of her Dad. I'm not sure how that works. Is there a marker on your DNA for how you smile or raise your eyebrows? There must be.

Jessica has my brother's sense of humor (and by default, my sense of humor). She always seems to have a smile on her face.

She and I enjoy speaking to each other in phony British accents for fun. (Her's is spot on. Mine could use some work.)

I've been an aunt for most of my life. How great it's been to watch my nieces and nephews grow up! They are so special to me and Jessica is no exception.

Happy Birthday Jess. I love you!!

I Watch it Whenever It's On

2008-06-24T21:48:00.000-07:00

There are a number of movies in my life that fall into this catergory. The category being: If I am aimlessly flipping channels, usually late at night or on a lazy, rainy Saturday afternoon, I will stop at certain movies and watch them until the end, or as long as I possibly can. When it comes to these movies, not only do I know the plat, but I've got a lot of the dialog in my head.

"The Princess Bride," "Shawshank Redemption," "Defending Your Life," all of these fall into this category, so do many others, but today I want to talk about "Hannah and Her Sisters."

Here is Woody Allen at his best. Here is New York in all it's Upper West Side Glory. Here is Dianne Weist - brilliant, quirky, beautiful.

New York looks so absolutely gorgeous in this movie, I actually get sad sometimes as I think that I will never live the dream I had as a teen - to live in the city, to know it intimately. I was 19 when I saw this movie for the first time and having no understanding of what the cost of living was, I thought living in Manhattan was possible. Well, dreams changed, or get added to, but I wish sometimes I was able to fit that one in. Even for 6 months. Just to know that I did. Just to have experienced it.

I wonder as I watch the movie, do my Ohio neighbors realize that as Mickey and Holly walk to Central Park that The Dakota is there in the background. The Dakota, NY landmark where John Lennon lived and died. Do they know it, or is it just another building? Does it matter?

I long to be in the crowded used book shop where Elliot and Lee meet. Where Elliot buys Lee a book of poetry by e.e. cummings. e.e. cummings. I wrote a paper on one of his poems in college. It may have been in 1986, the year the movie was released as a matter of fact. I got an A on my paper, but the professor wrote on the cover, "Are you being honest? See me." He asked how I came to understand the poet so well. I told him that I had read so much of his work, and read criticisms of other poems, that I just got it. His poetry is so magnificantly odd and lovely. He breaks the rules of words and grammar to suit his purposes. So when Eliot gives Lee the poem "somewhere i have never travelled", when I hear Barbara Hershey read it in the movie, it makes sense to me and I just love it. Here is the last stanza.

(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in
me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not
even the rain has such small hands

I had always wanted someone to think of me as fragile and delicate in that way. Her eyes speak to him. They have a voice. Amazing.

I'm still not sure if I am insulted or flattered that my professor thought I had cheated.

And the music. The music. Once again I am grateful for my experience at WNEW. There are some classical pieces, but for the most part, the songs are pulled from what we used to call The Great American Songbook. Rodgers and Hart, Jerome Kern, Bobby Mercer. Harry James on trumpet, Bobby Short on piano, Count Basie and his Orchestra. The list goes on and on. "You Made Me Love You," "Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered," "Isn't It Romantic." They don't write 'em like that anymore. Everyone song is pitch perfect with the movie, conveying emotion right along with the actors.

As I watched it tonight, I thought that it looked like it took place in another century. and then I realized that it did. The 20th century. From how they dressed to Holly using a pay phone, it all seemed a little nostalgic, and yet it holds up.

The ending is satisfying, and more than the viewer could have hoped for. You don't know that you want it to end the way it does until it does.

Woody Allen's last line as Mickey is, "The heart is such a resiliant little muscle."

Well put.

I hope the next time it's on I catch more than the last half hour. You can be certain I'll watch.

Crazy Week

2008-06-10T09:25:00.000-07:00

It's interesting to me how having just one more child involved in one more activity can complicate your day. It is also baffling to me how friends of mine who have 3, 4 and 5 children manage to keep their heads from exploding as I fret over 2 kids playing baseball and t-ball.

I shouldn't say "fret." I'm not really fretting. But certainly I am a wimp. When I hear that my friend Julie had 5 baseball games to attend between her 3 boys, I am like, hand me noose, will ya please? That's 10 hours of baseball. You couldn't get me to watch that much baseball if Derek Jeter was playing in the nude. Well, OK, maybe, but they'd have to be really great seats.

Frank is head coach for Frankie's team this year and it really is cute the way he pours over the lineups and rotations. He talks about the other teams records and who's a tough team and so on. It's fun to see him passionate and involved and the boys seem to respond to him. He's coaching for the all-star team and started "scouting" yesterday.

In the meantime, litte Lindsey is playing t-ball and is so adorabe that I want to squash her. They are all so sweet at this age. They cheer on the other team when they get a hit, and greet each other as they run the bases. ("Hi Lindsey! Bye Lindsey!" says little Nick as he rounds 2nd.)

We've had so many rain outs that we are chock full of make up games this week. All at the same time and all during the evenings when I am working. This week is busy on the comedy front as I am MC at the Newport Funny Bone on the weekend for comedian Jo Koy. So, besides my regular Wednesday night at the Dayton Funny Bone, I've got Thursday-Sunday in Cinci/Newport. It'll probably cost me more in gas than I'll get paid, but I'm very excited to be branching out. I can't wait to tell you all about it when I get back.

Just for fun, here's another photo from our Disney Cruise. I love Goofy. He's so big and tall and when he hugs me I feel safe. Too much info? Yes. But true all the same.

Friday 15

2008-06-06T10:53:00.001-07:00

Here we go:

1. School's out! Yay!

2. Excited about getting out and enjoying the summer.

3. Not so excited about wearing a bathing suit.

3. Frankie ended the year with straight A's. Yay!

4. Lindsey had a perfect report card too.

5. She will be a first grader next year!

6. Bunko was a blast last night.

7. June is 8 years since we moved to Tipp.

8. I am so happy that we moved to Tipp. This neighborhood is awesome.

9. Seriously, my friends are great. We can count on them and have shared so much with them. The big and small things in life.

10. Moving here also introduced me to the Overfield pre-school, which not only impacted my kids, but changed my life in many ways.

11. Overfield changed the way I look at my kids and children in general. It influenced the way I parent. And...

12. Once again I was blessed to make some fabulous friends who I LOVE.

13. My plan for this summer is to try and do something special with the kids each week. Like King's Island or a new park or museum.

14. I would also like to take a beach vacation at some point. Maybe with some friends.

15. Happy Summer!!

GNO - Sex and the City Night

2008-06-01T17:15:00.000-07:00

About 2 months ago, I received an email from my friend Heidi. She was planning a Girls' Night Out to go see "Sex and the City: The Movie" and wanted to know who was in. I'm on board with anything Heidi plans. She is our "Cruise Director," and trust me, we are grateful for it. She always has a great mix of girls. Some are old friends and some I'm meeting for the first time. But they are always fabulous and last night was no exception.

Here's how the night unfolded:

First of all, I dressed from the bottom up last night. I knew what shoes I wanted to wear and bought a top to go with them and my capri jeans. The shoes: High heels of course. Brown t-strap. Kind of retro. The jewelry: A pair of big earrings, my Aunt's big smokey topaz ring and I.D. bracelet (an homage to Carrie's nameplate necklace). Later that night, Sharon complimented my earrings and asked if they were malachite. I answered that they were $8.

Jenn Bibby called me a couple of hours before the night began to say that her husband Sean could drive us both up to Heidi's and then pick us up after. I asked Frank if he thought this was a good idea. "You, Bibby and Cosmos? Yes, it's a good idea."

We arrive at Heidi's. She's looking gorgeous as usual, all in black except for her red patent Manolos. I shudder with delight.

Shannon, Erin and Mary are there and I guess it has been a while since Jenn and I have seen Mary because lo and behold, she's pregnant! Due in October and looking adorable.

Heidi's husband Chad has martini glasses filled with ice-cold Cosmos lined up on the kitchen island. Also on the island, tons of food! Chicken satay, flank steak, mango salsa, jasmine rice, bruschetta, bread cheese, and a cold "soup" of strawberries and champagne. (Jenn and I later: "What's for dinner?" "Soup.")

This is all very Chad. He is a fantastic cook and he and Heidi are the most charming of hosts. He happily kept filling the glasses of 10 gabby girls.

There were truffles and dark chocolate and Shannon made red velvet Sprinkles cupcakes. Yes, even the cupcakes were trendy.

We purchase our tickets online and head off to the theatre. I'm riding shotgun with Heidi, Bibby and Sharon are in the backseat. We are listening to the Sex and City soundtrack from the TV show. We're getting in the mood. And yes, everything is funny.

Popcorn is an absolute must. "Score me a Mountain Dew, will you Jo?" asks Heidi. As I wait for Jenn to be done I overhear her exchange with the girl behind the counter.

The Girl: That'll be $4.01.

Bibby: Oh, wait, can I give you the penny?

The Girl: No. You gave me a $50.

Bibby: That's OK. You can still give me $46 back.

The Girl looks confused but does as she is told. She proceeds to count our Jenn's change.

$40 in 5's and 6 one-dollar bills.

"Thanks," Jenn says, "It totally looks like I earned this as tips for dancing."

"Yes," I add, "They look like they came right out of your g-string.

"Actually," Jenn says, "I usually get tens and twenties."

The Girl is not amused. We do not care and proceed to laugh like crazy.

Back in the theatre, Heidi and the girls nabbed 10 seats together, right on the rail. Heidi and I share popcorn and laugh at the movie previews which feature very specific warnings such as, "Sexual Comments" and "Moments of Sensuality." I read both warnings out loud and say both times to Heidi, "Sounds like any night at your house."

Heidi is convinced that someone is going to die in the movie. First she thinks it's Harry, Charlotte's husband. "No one dies Heidi."

"I heard that it's not such a light-hearted movie."

"No one dies Heidi."

Then she thinks that Big is going to buy it. "Here we go, car accident..."

"No one dies Heidi."

Then, at one point, she thinks something happened to Brady, Miranda and Steve's son.

"Heidi, no one dies."

Before anyone gets on my case about spoiling anything, Michael Patrick King said before the movie came out, "“You don’t know how many people came up to me when I was making the movie and said, ‘So is somebody going to die?’ ” he said. “Yup. Happy summer. Thanks for your $10. Enjoy your Diet Coke. Someone’s going to die. Like that’s what I’m going to do.”

So, yeah, no one dies.

In between convincing Heidi of this, I listened to her dispute the prices quoted for various designer objects, including the gorgeous blue Manolos.

"If those are $525, I'd like to know where she shops."

Also, I helped her cover her eyes whenever there was nudity. Say two words and Heidi will duck and cover and those two words are, "Full Frontal."

I want to see every movie with Heidi from now on.

After the movie was over - we all loved it - it was all hugs and love and then back to the cars. Frank asked me if there were a lot of women at the theatre and were they all dressed up. I honestly couldn't get past how fabulous we all looked. I didn't notice anyone else. And I can guarantee that Heidi was the only one in the theatre, heck, in all of Huber Heights and possibly the entire Dayton area, wearing a pair of Manolos.

Frank sent me a text as we were on our way back to Heidi's. "Big is waiting for you at home." Funny.

I'll post the pictures as soon as Bibby sends them to me.

So, to my SATC friends from last night - Heather, Shannon, Sharon, Erin, Jenn, Tiffini, Jessica, Mary, and of course My Heidi - thanks for a great time.

Some of the Best Ideas Are the Stolen Ones

2008-05-29T17:36:00.000-07:00

My friend Anne has a blog (see link at right) on which she posts a weekly "Friday Fifteen." So, here I go, totally stealing this from her in an attempt to be more prolific. (Yeah right Joanne, we'll believe it when we see it.)

Here goes:

1. I am so proud of my brother Paul. If you haven't done so, please check out his website featuring his beautiful art. The link is on the right. There should be some new pieces up from his trip to Italy that are pretty extraordinary. He gave me a print of the one of the Grand Canal. I am so lucky!!

2. He also is an amazing photographer. I am the owner of a gorgeous photo (one of literally thousands) that he took in Rome. And my sister Audrey (she and Peter went with Paul and Andrea to Italy) has this perfect grouping of four of his photos in her home. I was super jealous until I got my loot!

3. Speaking of Audrey and Peter....Their little grandson, my great-nephew, Michael Ryan, just turned two months and is a sweetie. They have 2 more grandchildren on the way to make a grand total of 6 by the end of the year. WOW!

4. My trip to NY was fun. I will post some pics from Megan's Sweet 16 soon. Lindsey looked adorable in a skirt from Duck Duck Goose here in Troy, OH. It's my favorite place to buy baby gifts and it seems I always have to buy baby gifts. (Stop having sex people!!) (Just kidding!)

5. My first year of subbing is coming to an end. I really do love it (I've had maybe 4 bad days), but I'm still on the fence about going back to school to teach full time. But I will continue to sub for sure.

6. The comedy "career" is chugging along. I opened for Ralphie May a couple of weeks ago at the Newport Funny Bone (in Kentucky - just over the river from Cinci). His regular opener/feature was delayed and they called me for the comedy emergency. Yay me!

7. I am also opening for Jo Koy in Newport next month.

8. From my first time onstage to paid comic in less than 2 years? I'm pretty proud of myself.

9. Which is not to say I don't have a ton to learn, but I'm having a ton of fun!

10. I purposely went onstage last night in a regular t-shirt, no cleavage. I felt very naked.

11. While in NY I had to attend a wake and saw several of my cousins and aunts and uncles. I have an awesome family. We laugh, we cry, we make fun of each other all in the span of 10 minutes.

12. My cousin Chippy says he has been compared to George Hamilton, Tom Selleck, and Sam Elliot. "All handsome men." I tell him. "You're better looking than all of them," says my brother to Chip. "This is why I love my family," says Chip to his wife, Fran.

13. Frankie is finishing up 5th grade and about to enter middle school. Help.

14. My little Lindsey is the best traveller. We had fun driving to and from NY together.

15. I am so grateful to Frank for not only holding down the fort while I was away, but sprucing up the garden and front porch, doing laundry and taking care of Frankie.

Hey Anne - I like this Friday Fifteen! Thanks!

Upon Arriving Home....

2008-05-29T11:53:00.000-07:00

Lindsey and I went to New York for a week to attend my niece's Sweet 16 party, meet my new great-nephew, and visit with the fam.

Lindsey was very excited to get home and missed her brother and father so much. I've said before that my kids are funny because they "get it." Not only do they get jokes, but they also make them. So here's the story...

I was resting on the couch after the long drive as Lindsey was boncing around getting reaquainted with Frankie, the house and her toys. She climbed on the couch and gave me a big hug and said, " I love you SO MUCH!"

Then she jumped off the couch, motioned to Frank and said, "And I love...whoever this guy is."
As if she'd been away so long that she didn't recognize her father.

She kills me.

It's a Small World After All

2008-04-18T18:47:00.000-07:00

I've said it many times, and it continues to be true, but there are no strangers in this town.

Even when I am out of town, there are no strangers in that town either.

I've already shared how my friend Mark Eddie was performing on the Disney Magic while we were on vacation. Well, here's another story:

I attended a shopping seminar onboard the ship to prepare myself for the fabulous bargains in St. Maarten and St. Thomas. Yeah, I know. I really needed a seminar in shopping? Truth is, I heard there was going to be free stuff, so I went.

Well, our shopping guide sold us a little loyalty card and a bunch of coupons for free items in shops all over both ports. I spent $25 so I could get the card that entitled me to a "free" tote and lots of other free trinkets. A bit of a scam I guess, but it was kind of fun popping into different stores to pick up a pearl pendant or a charm bracelet or a "lithograph" or whatever.

One such stop was at Tanzinite International where I picked up a teeny, tiny, tanzinite pendant. I was examining my freebie when I noticed that my "stone" (read: fleck) had fallen out of the setting. I asked my fellow shopper/freebie glommer if her stone was set or was it loose?

She told me that in fact, there was little tanzinite stone set into the pendant and encouraged me to ask for another one. I did, but added that they must love us coming into the shops, getting our freebies and then not buying anything.

"I don't care. " she said, "I'm going to all of them! I'm going to put them in my reward box. I'm a teacher."

"That's a great idea," I said,"Better than candy. What grade do you teach?"

"4th."

" That's nice. My son's in 5th." And then, and I'm not sure why, I said, "I just started subbing this year."

"Where do you sub?" she asked, I assumed to be polite.

I shrugged. "Ohio."

Because, you know, I'm in St. Maarten and there's like 2700 people on the ship, and they are from everywhere. So what are the odds? Well, I don't know, but here's what she said:

"Where in Ohio?"

Again, I shrugged. "Dayton."

"Where in Dayton? I live in Dayton."

"Vandalia. Where do you live?"

"Troy."

"I live in Tipp."

"Who are you?" she asked excitedly.

"I'm Joanne Viskup."

"I know you from Overfield. I'm Cathy Adkins."

"I know you! Your husband's name is Jerry. You're both teachers!"

"Yes!"

And so, that is the story of how I struck up a conversation with a "stranger" in St. Maarten.

And just for fun, here are some pictures of the kids on the beach.

Whoa, ho, ho, it's Magic!

2008-04-13T18:18:00.001-07:00

The Disney Magic that is!

Spring break saw us off to Florida to board the Disney magic for a weeklong Caribbean cruise. I am a Disney freak and trust me when I tell you, a Disney cruise is a Disney-phile's dream come true.

Our adventure started on Friday, as we flew out of Columbus and headed for Orlando. Things went like clockwork and we spent the night at a hotel in Port Canvaveral. We boarded the ship. The great, big, beautiful ship. We immediately started eating.

After lunch, we headed to our stateroom which was large and lovely, full of little Disney touches. And then a huge surprise came as I checked out our "Personal Navigator." It the daily newsletter that lets you know what is going on around the ship. Well, much to my surprise, the Navigator announcec that evening's show featuring the musical comedy of my friend, Mark Eddie!

Mark headlined here in Dayton in February and I was his emcee. We became fast friends. He is hugely talented and extremely nice. In fact, I even asked him, "Are you really this nice?"

"Yeah...I am!" he replied.

Anyway, he wasn't scheduled to be on our cruise originally, but fate stepped in and there we were, cruising Caribbean together.

We went to see all his shows and all and breakfast together. My kids thought I was a celebrity. We got together one night to write and talk comedy, which which I love to do with someone I respect and admire. To have him tell me that I had great instincts was a gift indeed.

We kept saying that if we planned it, it would have never worked out, us being on the cruise together. The fact of the matter is, back in February he wasn't originally scheduled at our club either, but the other headliner had to cancel and Mark stepped in. I guess it was meant to be that we should be friends.

Anyway, here are a couple of pictures of me and the fam with Mark Eddie. See him when he comes to your town. More on the trip later this week...

What I'm Listening To Now - James Morrison

2008-02-11T18:53:00.000-08:00

It all started last week with a promo for FX. As they paraded images of the shows I love (such as "The Shield" and "Rescue Me") a song played that just stuck with me, but I had no idea who was singing or what the name of the song was.

So I Googled "Song from FX promo" and lo and behold, I find James Morrison's "You Give Me Something." It's all love and confusion and a background of strings that builds with his emotions and it's catchy enough to sing along to after a couple of listens. I defy you not to like it.

He's just got one album. It's called "Undiscovered." He's got one of those soulful voices that sound like he's been around for years and years and has the scars to prove it.

You may have heard "Wonderful World," in all it's beautiful, glorious angst. He sings it like he feels every word.

On "One Last Chance," he's at a crossroads of a life gone wrong that he wants to put right. He makes you believe he means it and that he's going to make it.

With "Under the Influence," he's happily helpless. It's a little R&B, a little Gospel, a little Rock n' Roll. A strong beat, a driving piano, and those surprising strings again. Add the backing vocals and you almost want to yell out "Testify" as he tells you repeatedly, "Once you've had a taste of it there's no going back."

Sounds like he wouldn't have it any other way.

He also sometimes sounds like the love child of John Mayer and Terence Trent D'Arby. (If you know that reference, you are my 80's soulmate. Bless you.)

What is it with me and "Blue-Eyed Soul" anyway? I've gone from good ol' Hall and Oates from way back-in-the-day, to Paul Carrack, to Joss Stone.

And now it's James Morrison.

Hope you like him too. Let me know what you think.

"I Weep For The Future"

2008-02-08T20:14:00.000-08:00

Many of you may remember this famous line from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." It was spoken by the stuffy maitre d at the restaurant that Ferris and company were trying to get in to. Ferris posed as Abe Froman, the Sausage King of Chicago.

"Ferris Bueller's Day Off" remains one of my favorite movies for so many reasons. First of all, I saw the movie by accident. Some would call it sheer luck. My friend Emily and I were going to see "Top Gun." This was Tom Cruise at his most adorable and this was way before he was jumping on Oprah's couch.

Anyway, we sat in the theatre, popcorn at the ready, preparing to be swept away by the man of our dreams, when much to our surprise a sneak preview was announced.

What's this now? A sneak preview? Excuse us, usher? What does this mean? Do we have to pay to see this other movie? Because, you know, we don't have the money to pay for another movie. It's free you say? We get free posters you say? And it's starring Matthew Broderick? Matthew Broderick of "War Games"?!

Holy Hormones, Batman!! It's too good to be true.

Then a little panic set in. We have to call our parents!! Cause like, that's an extra 2 hours!

We got approval and watched the movies. We laughed, we cried, and eventually, we recovered from all the hotness.

But you know, this isn't really a post about a movie. It's a post about substitue teaching.

Thursday I was thrilled to be in for the high school speech teacher. Communications is kind of my thing.

To see Radio Production for first period gave me a jolt of excitement.

"You guys are sooo lucky," I told the kids, "I worked in radio for 10 years! We're going to work on newscasts today!"

Then we couldn't get into the room where their tapes were and my big plans went up in smoke.

The rest of the day was spent giving quizzes and having the students do impromtu one-minute speeches on a random object they pulled out of a black bag. I tried to make it fun by having them weave the name of a classmate into their speech and then that person would go next. It worked and for the most part, the kids embraced it and had fun.

Then 7th period came.

The room seem to be filled with troublemakers and kids who were downright disrespectful just for the sake of being disrespectful. I felt for the "good" kids. Because it was so difficult to engage them as I continually had to reprimand the others.

One student, who looked like he was 22 and is not a Special Ed student, handed in his quiz and I couldn't believe my eyes. The quiz was mainly a fill in the blank thing, and he filled in the blanks. Only not with words. Instead he wrote, "1234567," and "tnvm revt," and random scribbling.

And all I could think was, "Yikes. This kid's going to be loose in a couple of years and out among us."

7th period sucked the life out of me.

And for a moment, I wept for the future.

Today I subbed for one of the Social Studies teachers and the day was completely different.

My classes were filled with nice kids who were eager to learn. They were bright eyed and a pleasure to be around. From the freshman to the seniors, they were great.

And they restored my faith in humanity.

Sounds overly dramatic, but the more I sub, the more I see high school as a microcosm of society. You can almost point to the kids and say: Future Lawyer. Future Teacher. Future Hateful "Customer Service" Worker.

Future Convict.

But I don't want to be the mean substitute. And I haven't been dong this long enough to really be jaded. That's when you end up sounding like Principal Rooney from "Ferris..." who said, "I did not achieve this position in life by having some snot-nosed punk leave my cheese out in the wind."

Because I may not be young, but I'm still young enough to remember High School and that most kids feel like Ferris and I quote, "I do have a test today. That wasn't bulls**t. It's on European socialism. I mean, really, what's the point? I'm not European. I don't plan on being European. So who cares if they're socialists? They could be fascist anarchists. It still doesn't change the fact that I don't own a car."

And I realize that to most of the kids I may sound like the teacher in the movie played by the deadpan Ben Stein...

"In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the... Anyone? Anyone?... the Great Depression, passed the... Anyone? Anyone? The tariff bill? The Hawley-Smoot Tariff Act? Which, anyone? Raised or lowered?... raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue for the federal government. Did it work? Anyone? Anyone know the effects? It did not work, and the United States sank deeper into the Great Depression. Today we have a similar debate over this. Anyone know what this is? Class? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone seen this before? The Laffer Curve. Anyone know what this says? It says that at this point on the revenue curve, you will get exactly the same amount of revenue as at this point. This is very controversial. Does anyone know what Vice President Bush called this in 1980? Anyone? Something-d-o-o economics. "Voodoo" economics. "

"Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?"

8th Grade

2008-01-31T13:15:00.000-08:00

I was subbing for science. We were doing a lab in which we compared the layers of a peach to the layers of the earth.

As I passed out the peaches, I tried to anticipate any shenanigans that might occur, so I made the following announcement:

"I am passing out the peaches. Do not eat the peaches. Do not lick the peaches. Do not throw the peaches."

One student's response:

"Can we put them down our pants?"

8th graders are idiots.

3rd Grade

2008-01-15T08:42:00.000-08:00

I was subbing for the 3rd grade yesterday and I had to present a question to the class for them to answer in their journals.

I wrote on the board, "Are you easily persuaded? Why or why not?"

I went on to explain being persuaded as being influenced or convinced. Then I gave an example.

"Let's say your friend comes to call for you and asks you to go to the park, but you don't want to go because you think it's too cold. Your friend says, 'Come on, it'll be fun. Everyone else will be there and we're going to have a snowball fight.' If you change your mind and go, that means that your friend persuaded you."

Here are the comments that followed:

"What if he was lying?"

"Isn't the park closed in winter?"

"Is this homework?"

A Bronx Tail

2008-01-10T18:14:00.000-08:00

Whenever we are in New York, I try to give the kids at least one "New York" experience. You know, beside my Mom's meatballs and the living rooms of various family members. The truth is, we do spend so much time visiting with our family - which we love - that is difficult to accomplish a trip to the city each time we go in. But we try. This yea we went to The Bronx Zoo.

We headed out to the Zoo just a couple of days after Christmas and exactly one day after the San Franciso Zoo incident.

"You went to the zoo the day after a tiger attack?" a friend of mine asked me over the phone.

"We weren't worried. The tigers at the Bronx Zoo do not want to escape. They're like, 'Are you kidding me? It's a jungle out there!' They are not wearing the right gang colors. They know it's safer where they are."

Here are some photos. See more on the flickr badge on the right.

The little monkeys were so cute, but I have my limits. I spotted one of the workers ducking into one of the monkey "rooms" via a tiny door to feed them and it made me shiver. Me. A small door. A tiny room. 15 monkeys above me. I'd rank that job right up there with coal miner.

Here's Lindsey, looking cute:

I seemed to be more interested in the animal sculptures than the real animals. I guess that is very me.

Giraffes are such unlikely creatures. Quite weird up close. Especially strange because these were indoors.

Sometimes I feel bad for the animals, but I enjoy the zoo. It is educational and sparks the imagination and interest in the animals and where they come from. It's different from circus animals who are not only stripped of their freedom, but made to perform against their wills as they are prodded with poles that shock them or having whips being snapped at them. Still though, I bet this giraffe would rather stretch out it's neck toward a real blue sky.

To think that a group of people thought to set aside this place in the middle of the Bronx is pretty amazing. One minute you're on Fordham Road and the next minute you are looking at a Polar Bear. It opened its doors in 1899 and is still going strong.

And plus, these guys live here, so you gotta love it!

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-20T11:35:00.000-08:00

I'm off to New York to visit the family and celebrate Christmas. I need to squeeze some babies, eat some great food, and laugh and laugh.

I will be back with photos and stories to share.

Hope you all have a great Christmas and a happy and healthy New Year.

Joanne

Adventures in Subbing

2007-12-18T23:13:00.000-08:00

Life is full of surprises.

I've been tossing the idea of substitute teachig around for some time now. My friend Theresa has been subbing for years and said she loves it. Loves it? Love seemed like a strong word.

Anyway, I decided to try my hand at it and filled out a big form online this summer. My friend and neighbor is a principal at the high school in the next town and he put in a good word for me at the Board of Ed. Before I knew it, I was fingerprinted and I received my license in the mail.

Now, do I have a teaching degree? No. Did I minor in education? No. I minored in business. Only, I really didn't minor in business because you need to take Accounting to have an "official" business minor and there was no way I was taking Accounting. Accounting made my friend Theresa cry. Accounting brought Theresa to the Dean's office, with me by her side, where she begged to drop the class without being penalized. I was there to attest to the fact that Theresa was getting sick over Accounting.

"Dean Winters," Theresa said, "I'm getting sick over it. Joanne, am I getting sick?"

"Yes, she's getting sick," I said to Dean Winters.

"Well....If you're going to get sick over it...." replied Dean Winters. And Theresa withdrew from Accounting.

So, there was no way I was going down that road. But I took 26 credits of business courses. I took one course that maybe, maybe was educationish....Children's Theatre Workshop. Theresa and I took this class together and performed "The Three Billy Goats Gruff "as our final. We had a blast and no one got sick.

So, why didn't I minor in Education? I blame my mother.

I did not minor in education because one of the things my mother suggested I "become" was a teacher - and there was no way I was going to do anything as sensible as taking her advice. I wouldn't be caught dead doing anything she actually wanted me to do - even if it was a good idea. So you see, it's all my mother's fault. If she hadn't told me to become a teacher, I would have never taken Economics and Marketing instead of Education courses. Thanks a lot Mom. Ever hear of Reverse Psychology?

I am actually quite pleased that my almost 20 year-old degree counts for anything. When the Board of Ed said they needed my transcript, I joked that St. John's was going going to send a Town Crier to read it off the Dead Sea Scrolls.

I started my adventure in subbing on October 15th - my 40th birthday.

I was asked to sub for "Consumer Science."

"What is that?" I asked the sub scheduler.

"Home Ec." she replied.

Can you imagine? Me, "teaching" Home Ec? My sewing kit is from the Hyatt. And you know, they sell cakes in stores. We don't need me baking cakes.

Of course, I didn't really have to "teach" as much as I just had to keep order, play some videos, and say "yes" to bathroom breaks. I told everyone that it was my birthday and it was my first day subbing and they should be nice.

One girl asked how old I was.

"40." I answered.

"No way! I would have never thought that!" she said.

"You get an 'A'."

It's two months later and I've been substituting regularly, 2-3 times a week. I am at the High School for the most part, which is nice. I'm all over the place...English, Social Studies, Art and more. I have become a familiar face in the halls. I must be the coolest sub ever because when the kids see me, I get some pretty great reactions. Here are some:

"Hey Ms. V! Who are you subbing for?"

"I hope Miss K gets the flu again so we can have you!"

"I remember you! I had you for _______. You were awesome!"

Sometimes they write "awesome" or "the best" or "we love you" next to my name on the board.

One time, several students clapped when I entered the room.

When my neighbors see me leave for work early in the morning, they look as if they've seen Bigfoot. The past 7 years have seen me at the bustop only a handful of times. Yet, to my own disbelief, I get up at 6 and happily drive off to school in the dark.

I guess love is not too strong a word after all.

Life is full of surprises.

I'm Sick

2007-12-10T17:31:00.000-08:00

Bronchitis. Stuffy head. Yuck.

Trying to get better before Christmas so I don't end up with pneumonia again.

Will write when I can.

As Britney said on her 26th birthday, "Thanks Y'all."

Who Are You Listening To?

2007-11-30T05:56:00.000-08:00

I know I am late to the party, but I'm all about Joss Stone this week.

She's got a voice way beyond her years, filled with soul and experience. Though, I don't know how that's possible, because I think she's only 20.

My three favorites: "Don't You Wanna Ride?" (with a fun sample of "Am I The Same Girl?" and a great line - A car this fine doesn't pass your way everyday.), "Tell Me What We're Gonna Do Now," and "Some Kind of Wonderful."

This stuff is hot, and she's got voice to burn.

YIKES!!

2007-11-29T15:03:00.000-08:00

Last year, I was asked to contribute a site called, Hot Blogging Mamas, or something like that, and so I did. I also added the link to my sidebar under "Friends and Sites I Like" and then just left it there.

Well...

Today, my niece Candice calls me to say that her cousin Jaimi (whose name has also graced these "pages" a few times) clicked on the link last night and it connected her to an X-Rated website.

I am mortified!!

I am so sorry Jaimi, and anyone else who may have stumbled upon the link.

Obviosly, that URL is under new management since I put it up here. So, so sorry. And thanks to Jaimi for letting me know!

Comedy Clip - What Unites All Women

2007-11-27T15:11:00.000-08:00

Here's the end of my set last week. I asked the lady with the sparkly boobs (from the previous clip) a question. WARNING!! There's some talk about panties and the area that they cover. If you think you will be offended, DO NOT HIT PLAY!

Further warning...The YouTube embed below will connect you with other clips from my set. They may not be suitable for everyone and for many of you, not what you are used to hearing from me. VIEW THEM AT YOUR OWN RISK! Or, have fun watching them. Positive comments only please. And no judgement. Thanks.

Bloggity, Blog, Blog, Blog

2007-11-26T16:28:00.000-08:00

I know I've been neglecting you all for a long time now. The days of my posting 3 or more times a weeks seem so long ago. I look at the "Previous Posts" section and see one post in October. One.

Now listen, I've had a lot going on lately. My uncle, here in Ohio, has been ill and in and out of the hospital and I've been managing his care. I've been substitute teaching fairly regularly (and I love it!), and that's been taking up some of my time. The comedy stuff takes time too. Then there was the whole turning 40 thing, which, I will be honest, dampened my spirits quite a bit.

So I have a lot of excuses. There have been many days when I was just completely exhausted, but I'm sure I would have felt better if I wrote about what was happening.

But I didn't. I've been neglecting you.

The truth is, I've been neglecting myself too. Because I love writing here. Because this has been a starting point for so many things in my life that I never thought I'd do.

The blog brought out the "techie" in me, which, besides being HOT, is something that I'm proud of. My desire to make the blog better has led me to learn things I wouldn't have if not for the blog. Scanning photos, improving layouts, even writing a little code now and then - I've become such a smartie!

The blog gave me the confidence in my own abilities as a writer to keep writing and sharing. The blog also gave me the confidence and the jumping off point for my Stand-Up Act. Which isn't an act really, as much as it's me, sharing stories, putting myself out there, and trying to connect with people on a different and exciting level.

And maybe that's the biggest thing the blog has given me - the ability to connect with people in a significant way. And, perhaps most surprisingly, some of the people the blog has built or strengthened bridges to are the people who are closest to me. My family. My friends.

When my friend Robin tells me that she spent an evening reading my blog, laughing and crying, and getting tears in her eyes as she tells me this - that's why I write this blog. When my honorary niece, Jaimi, tells me that the post about the passing of her mom was a great tribute - that's why I write this blog. My Aunt Marie printed out the post about my Aunt Rose and my Uncle Sal found it and read it and knew that I had written it even though my name wasn't on it - and he called me to say how he loved it and how I am a person who really knows her family. Yeah, that's why I write this blog.

My friends old and new, near and far, come here to catch up with me, to laugh with me, to cry with me. My sweet friend Heidi writes me emails of complaint when I fail to post. It means so much to me. It's why I write this blog.

Every now and then, a stranger will drop me a line about how they like the blog or how a post made them feel. That's extraordinary to me. I wrote something. They felt something.

And so, you see, I've been neglecting myself by not writing here. I've been a wet blanket on my own creative fire.

And I've been leaving you all out of so much that is going on.

So, prepare yourself people! I'll be back with the oldies, but goodies - Music and Memory and Friday Fotos are returning plus new stuff like Adventures in Subbing, Absolute Musts and much more!

Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy blog!

Comedy Clip

2007-11-26T00:29:00.000-08:00

Here's a clip from a fun set I did last week. I talk about my boobs. I know. You're shocked!

Comments please!!

It's a Sign of the Apocalypse (Or Not)

2007-11-22T19:35:00.000-08:00

I think the world is coming to an end and here's why...

MARIE OSMOND IS IN THE "DANCING WITH THE STARS" FINALS!!

Marie Osmond. With the teeth and the "I'm a little bit country" and the dolls on QVC. With the the 8 kids and fainting onstage and the father that died just when we thought she was going to get voted off. (I know that is a little mean spirited, but isn't it all too convenient?)

And yes, in the 70's I watched her sing and dance and ice-skate her way right into my heart. And yes, it is kind of cool that a wife and mom in her 40's is out there shakin' it with the rest of them.

Wait. Hold on a sec. Her 40's?? How is it that she is suddenly only 8 years older than me? How did that happen?

Any who....I don't think it's fair what with her her huge family voting for her and everything. She has those 8 brothers, Donny, Virl, Cooter, Tito, whatever their names are....and all of their numerous wives and all those kids! I thought Mormons weren't allowed to use phones. OK. That's the Amish.

I'm just saying that I find the whole thing a little disconcerting and I thought I'd share.

I feel better now.

The Bachelor - Yawn!

2007-11-06T16:42:00.000-08:00

As regular readers of this blog know, I am a bit of a reality show junkie. In the past, I could always count on The Bachelor for being a source of amusement. I mean really, I defy anyone to tell me that 25 tanorexic skinnies in need of having their roots done, eating a sandwich, or both, competing to see who could get in the hot tub with the handsome stranger is not amusing. I'm here to tell you it is. Well usually.

Don't get me wrong, this season has had it's moments. The first night was very promising. There was the girl who turned herself into a "human pretzel" and told Brad, "Now you spin me!" and then wondered why she was passed over. Another girl who didn't make the cut? The one who showed him her webbed feet. Then someone found a fake boob on the floor. It seemed like everybody was as dumb as a box of hammers, including the bachelor. It was shaping up to be a great season.

But now I'm just bored. And mostly by Bachelor Brad.

Handsome? Sure. Except dude, shave the scruff. It's enough already. And yes, I know, he's got the pecs that launched a thousand ships and is a self-made millionaire, but I'm not seeing any depth. What is he passionate about? What is he interested in? I even prefer the professional bass fisher bachelor from a few years ago to this guy, 'cause hey, professional bass fishing was his thing.

The only thing Brad seems to be passionate about is his twin brother.

Not that depth is this crew's priority. No one talks about anything except the circumstances of the show. The girls and Brad talk about having this desire to get to know each and open up, and then no one does. There is a lot of talk about feeling "connections," but about what I don't know. There are connections between bikinis and biceps, but not much else.

Brad's attempt at class? When he upon something that is beautiful/amazing/unbelievable, he says, "Is this not beautiful?"or, "Is this not amazing?"or, "Is this not unbelievable?" I have a question. "Is this not annoying?"

When we were down to 4 girls and the hometown dates it was just plain weird. There was Jenni's family who Brad met in Jenni's Mom's place of work....a hair salon. What better place to sit down to an elegant meal? Afterward, Jenni's little sister straightened Jenni's hair while the Mom put Brad's head in the sink and nearly scribbed his scalp clean off. Add a crazy Grand mother and I think we have a winner!

Next was Sheena's familly where, surprise! Sheena's 40-something Mom looks hot-to-trot and is into Astronomy. Imagine that! A girl named Sheena! With a Mom who's into Astronomy!

In Washington, Brad met Bettina's family where Bettina's creepy-looking professor Dad had an even creepier insterest in his daughter's lovelife. By the end of the night, Bettina looked Brad in the eye and told him that his lack of a college degree added to the fact that he owned bars meant that he did not "look good on paper." (And yet, she moved on to the next round.)

DeAnna seemed the most stable and normal and her big, Greek family was welcoming and fun. So, you know, the odds are against her.

Now we are down to 2.

It's Jenni and DeAnna competing for Brad's, um, heart I guess.

Is it not romantic?

Me On A Plate

2007-11-01T19:23:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling pretty miserable lately. Yeah, the 40 thing has got me down. So, how about I just sit here and reassess the situation and talk myself right out of this funk?

Who am I at 40? I guess this is where I start smacking on labels. Let's go.

I am a Child of God. He loves me and I have Him to thank for every good thing in my life.

I'm a wife. I'm married to a great guy for 17 years and we are solid. More highs than lows and a peaceful home. He's got my back. That's a big thing.

I'm a mother. And I rock. My kids are awesome. Not an opinion. Just a fact. I have my moments when I lose it, but honestly, they are rare. My kids have balance and security and love all over the place.

I'm a friend. And I'm fierce. I may not always get your birthday cards out on time, but I will beat someone up for you. I'll take your kids. I'll cook you food for a week. I'll listen. I'll keep your secrets. I'll never judge you. And I'm a riot to hang with.

I'm a sister. You need me and I'm there. Even if I'm here. I'm there.

I'm an Aunt/Cousin/Niece. My family means the world to me. And I hope they all know that they can count on me.

I'm a writer. Always have been, always will be. I write for me, but I write for you too. Maybe I'll get myself published someday, or maybe I'll just have a blogful or boxful of stories that the masses will never see. I don't know what the future holds. I have some time. I'm only 40. And if I never make a dime from it, it doesn't matter. I'm still a writer.

I'm smart. About a lot of things. As for the rest of it? I'm still learning.

I'm a risk taker. I love to jump into new situations. I'm up for anything.

I'm a comic. Yeah. I am. It's basic, but it's true: I love to make people laugh. Laughter in response to my words (whether it's around the dinner table, or when I'm substitute teaching, or when I'm onstage), it's my bliss. And I'm going to follow my bliss. Maybe I am a narcissist. Maybe I am really desperate for attention. Here's what I think: I can talk out into a dark room filled with strangers for 10 minutes a week just because it makes me happy and I can still be every thing else that I am. (And not lose my soul.)

I'm fearless, I'm a doer and I'm strong. When I was young, I would have never imagined that I would have handled some of the situations that life has handed me, but I've learned that I am stronger than I ever thought I was. And it's true that my strength comes from God, but in more than one way. I lean on Him, this is true, but much of my tenacity He had given me already. It's just who I am. I am the girl who moved away from home at 25. I am the girl who struggled with infertility and endured tests and procedures and gave myself 2 injections a day for 12 weeks - and thank God I have 2 children to show for it. I am the girl who helped her grandparents in their last days. I am the girl who held my dear Aunt's hand as she took her last breath. I'm the girl you want in your corner.

I'm an Onion. You know, I've got layers. Not everyone in my life knows every layer, but hopefully they all know my heart.

I like my 40 year old attitude and brain. I'm proud to say that I don't sit on the sidelines. I know I am far from perfect and that I have a long way to go in my spiritual life and room for improvement every where else. But I don't want to get to the end of my road and wonder, what if?...That's sadder than failing. So, I'll write (and sometimes it will suck), and I'll go out on a limb and make a new friend (and sometimes I'll get my heart broken), and I'll speak my mind (though I may make some enemies), and I'll try to make you laugh (though sometimes you won't), and I'll volunteer my time (though I'm behind on my laundry) and I'll keep pushing forward to show my kids they can be a million different things, just like I can be a million different things and still be their mom.

Today I was a wife, a mother, a caretaker, a friend, a lover, a writer. Tomorrow I'll be a teacher too. Wednesday I'll be a comic. Not sure what I'll be the day after, but every day I'm Joanne.

40 is the new....BLECH!!

2007-10-23T19:02:00.000-07:00

I turned 40 last week, and for the record? I DO NOT LIKE IT.

That is all.

For now...

Friday Foto - Me circa 1985

2007-09-21T15:26:00.000-07:00

OK. Yikes. Let's break it down.

First of all, I will not make excuses for the hair, other than to say it was 1985 and I was rockin' my L'Oreal Mousse. Hard.

I pressume that the lawn chair in my Nana and Grandpa's back yard means that I was trying for a tan, but I can't help but note that I look slightly anemic and weak. I wonder how I could lift the chair.

My breasts are much smaller than they are now, to be sure, but take a close look at "Lefty." Always the rogue, even back then she would not be contained in the shelf bra of my fantastic swimsuit. She is making a break for it.

All in all though, cute suit, slim girl, big hair. Very 1985.

Once again I will confess to my warped sense of self at the time. I was very concerned about my "heavy" legs and focused on my "saddlebags." See it sticking out on my left leg? See it? Isn't it "gross"? These were my thoughts. Complete insanity. Uncomfortable in my own skin.

I don't know how that happens to a girl. Is it really magazines and TV? I'm not sure that's true in my case. When I look back on those days, I looked a lot like the girls I would see in movies and magazines. When you think of those 1980's movies, the heroines were all a little awkward, left of center. That's who I identified with. The perfect girls in those movies were all mean and phony. I had no desire to emulate them. The models and supermodels of those days were women, and so I didn't look to them as examples. So, I'm not sure why I felt I was so lacking. I suppose what I really lacked was confidence.

This week I joked during my stand up act that God knew what he was doing when he decided that my 40-year old attitude would not inhabit my 20-year old body. It would have been like the perfect storm. Too much for anyone to handle. So, never the twain shall meet.

As a mother of a girl, I am trying to be careful. As Lindsey hears me joke about my butt or complain about the hairs in my chin, I want her to know that I am more than my measurements (whether my measurements are less or more), and I am more than the face in the mirror. And so is she. Although I tell her that she is my beautiful princess, I also talk about her heart and her brain and what a good friend she is. I hope she sees the same in me. I think she does. Because even on days like today, when I am bumming around in a t-shirt and no makeup, hair pulled back and in need of a shower from washing windows all day, Lindsey thinks I'm "still pretty."

And, to the almost 18-year old girl in this photo: I'm sorry I put you through all that. You were awesome. Now we both know it.

Great Aunt

2007-09-13T21:56:00.000-07:00

Meet Sophia Nicole Hegel. She is my 2nd Great-Niece. I also have one named Jaden Marie Hegel. And I have a Great-Nephew named Joseph Peter Hegel. Yes. I am a Great-Aunt, 3 times over. Soon to be 4. (Candice is pregnant!)

No. I am not that old. Lots of factors went into my Great-Auntship. First of all, my sister is 11 years older than me. Secondly, she got married very young and starting having children, um, almost immediately. Third, her 4 kids, who are absolutely some of the best people I know, found their better halfs and have married and started their families.

And so now, I find myself falling in love with the babies of the babies that I used to baby-sit.

I cannot describe how wonderful it is to see my nieces and nephews become parents.

A couple of things about Sophia's father, Sean. I was 13 when he was born. So he is truly the first baby who I watched from when he was an infant. The first diaper I changed all by myself. When he was a toddler, after the kids all went to bed, I would occaisionally hear a loud thump from the boys' room. It was Sean. He would fall out of the bed and then continue to sleep in a lump on the floor. I would pick him up and put him in the bottom bunk and lay my head on the pillow next to his face so that I could smell his sweet breath.

And now he is married to his beautiful high-school sweetheart, Becky.

And now he is a Daddy.

Sometime life is so incredible, I can hardly stand it.

Now Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Program

2007-09-09T09:32:00.000-07:00

In looking at my last couple of posts, I'm realizing that some of my regular readers might be asking, "Hey, what's going on here? Where are the wacky pictures of her family? Where are the pithy comments about midwestern "fashion"? When is she going to talk about her boobs again? Who is this nice girl and what have you done with Joanne?"

I'm here people, I'm here.

Perhaps it's self-induldgent, but when the BIG stuff happens, I always feel better when I share it with you. Not only is it cathartic, but the BIG stuff changes me, even in little ways, and I'm always about keeping things real and honest. So, I think you should know when the BIG stuff happens. Sometimes the BIG stuff gives me perspective, or reminds me that life is short. And the BIG stuff stirs the spiritual part of me, which is such a part of who I am.

So, sorry about throwing you a curve ball every now and then. But you know, I trust you all enough to show you me. I guess The Girl Out of Brooklyn is a lot of things. Kinda like an onion. A lot of layers. Some are superficial, some have lots of flavor, some will make you cry, some stink really bad. You know what I mean.

Look for more posts and Friday Foto this week and beyond. While I will always write about the BIG stuff in life. I promise to write about the little stuff too - like my family (oops, that's big), fashion fauz pas (sometimes, quite big), and my boobs (yeah, OK, big). I promise to write about the ordinary moments that become lightbulb moments, that bring revelation and introspection. But I also promise to write about my hair.

Anway, thanks for hangin' out with me.

Her Works Bring Her Praise at the City Gates

2007-09-04T22:03:00.000-07:00

She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue,
She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness,
Her children arise and call her blessed,
her husband also, and he praises her:
"Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all."
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Give her the reward she has earned,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gates.

Proverbs 31:26-31

Last week, my family was devastated by the passing away of my Aunt Rose. The matriarch of the Casale family, Aunt Rose was my father's oldest sister. She was 85.

Very much like my Grandmother's house, Aunt Rosie (and Uncle Gus, who died13 years ago) had what I guess you could call an "open house." On any given night, any one in the family was welcome there and you would find aunts, uncles and cousins dropping by for coffee, conversation and company. An afternoon visit would turn into dinner, an evening visit would turn into a late-night prayer meeting. And in between, there was always food, and there was always laughter.

My Aunt was a prayerful, faithful woman. If ever there was a "Woman from Proverbs," it was her. But yet, while she was a righteous woman, she was not a self-righteous woman. Eveyone was worthy of prayers and love.

When he gave her beautiful eulogy, Aunt Rosie's son-in-law, my cousin Louie, said that if Aunt Rose hadn't married and was of a different religious affiliation, she would have been another Mother Theresa, a leader of a great order, the founder of a ministry. How right he is. But then I thought as I looked around the room, her family was her ministry. All of us, the hundreds of us in her very own family, were her ministry. She was there to pray us through sorrows and difficult times. Aunt Rose prayed for the salvation of literally each and every one of us. She helped pray my children and others into this world. She prayed for the healing of bodies and hearts. We leaned on her through our losses, and she always celebrated the joys of our lives as well.

Aunt Rose's influence spans 4 generations. Which really means that her love for God and the way she demonstrated the power of prayer and faithfulness has reached countless people as we, her family, continue to reach out to our friends and family. My nephew Sean told my mother how grateful he was for Aunt Rose, as she was instrumental in leading my sister to Christ, who then taught her children, and now Sean and his wife Becky have precious, little Sofia to pass on all they know to be true and important and life affirming.

And of course, there has to be the people we don't even know who Aunt Rose ministered to with acts of kindness. Again, never-holier-than thou, this weekend I heard stories of my Aunt's reaching out to others that she never shared with anyone because that's not what it was all about. Jesus said that "whatever you do unto the least of these...you also do unto me." (Matthew 25:40) I think that even without that instruction from the Bible, Aunt Rose would have given herself anyway. That was just her way. That was her heart.

And here's another thing about Aunt Rose. She was very real. She could tell it like it is. She liked a good joke. She'd tell you to shut up if you needed to shut up. She delighted in being surrounded by her family and was fiercely proud of her children and grandchildren. And so, like the woman of Proverbs, her children, my cousins Chip, Diane and Connie, arise and call her blessed. But it doesn't stop there. Her brothers and sisters, her nieces and nephews, her cousins and friends call her blessed too. And we call ourselves blessed for having been priveleged to have been loved by her.

Now we have to lean on the promises that she taught us (she was, afterall, Sunday School teacher to many). There is comfort in knowing that she is with her beloved Gus and with her beloved Lord, and that, in no small part, thanks to her, we'll see Aunt Rose again someday.

Two Thumbs Way Up!

2007-08-27T18:54:00.000-07:00

Lindsey, Frankie and I were getting on the ramp to I-75, when I noticed 2 hitch hikers put down their packs, smile, and enthusiastically stick our their thumbs. They were a young, clean-looking couple and they looked so happy. Of course, I kept driving.

"Why do those people have their thumbs out Mommy?" Lindsey asked.

"They're hitch hikers Lindsey. They need to go somewhere, but they don't have their own car or a lot of money, so they are hoping someone will pick them up an take them where they need to go," I answer. Then, I add, ever-so-responsible, "But, it's dangerous to hitch hike because you should never get into a stranger's car, they might want to hurt you. And it's dangerous to pick up a hitch hiker and let a stranger into your car because they may want to hurt you or steal your car. You don't go in a stranger's car, you don't let a stranger in your car."

There. I think I covered it.

"But if we knew them, we could have picked them up." Lindsey says.

"Yes, we would always help a friend in trouble."

Then I begin to wonder.

"What did you think they were doing Lindsey? Did you think they were saying, (as I point my thumb toward the road) 'Here's the highway!'"

"No. I thought they were saying, (and she gives me a big thumbs up), "Nice job drivin'!"

We all crack up and Frankie says, "She's so cute Mom!"

And then I'm reminded that God loves me.

McSweeneys

2007-08-14T19:22:00.000-07:00

Go here.

It's funny.

Joanne Casale Viskup Simpson

2007-08-06T22:04:00.000-07:00

I'm a little late to jump on the Simpson band wagon, but oh well...

Here's me as a Simpson. I thought it was cute. If you want one of your own, head to this website . It's fun!

And just because, here are some great quotes from Homer Simpson. Want more? Go here.

"Here's to alcohol, the cause of—and solution to—all life's problems."

"I'm normally not a praying man, but if you're up there, please save me Superman. "

"Lisa, Vampires are make-believe, like elves, gremlins, and eskimos."

"You don't like your job, you don't strike. You go in every day and do it really half-assed. That's the American way. "

"Bart, with $10,000, we'd be millionaires! We could buy all kinds of useful things like...love!"

"Marge, it takes two to lie. One to lie and one to listen."

This one reminds me of my Dad if he were a Simpson:

"Marge, I'm going to miss you so much. And it's not just the sex. It's also the food preparation."

Friday Foto - 5 Geniuses

2007-07-19T20:28:00.000-07:00

The kids and I spent July 4th weekend with our great friends, the Fahlbuschs, in Washington D.C. In the days that follow, I will share how Frank and I met Christine and Fred nearly 13 years ago and the many adventures we have shared with them over the years. I cannot tell those stories without also talking about the Beldners (Theresa and Harv, our other dear, but far-flung friends), and this is whay it has to be done in stages. One story leads into another and another.

13 years ago we were 3 couples living in the same apartment complex in West Carrollton, OH. 5 of us were transplanted New Yorkers. Fred hails from New Hampshire - close enough. We were all in our twenties and there was only one baby between us, little Madeleine Fahlbusch, who is now 13.

Here she is thoughtfully posing on Albert Einstein with her brother Thomas )in the green shirt), my son Frankie, and my daughter Lindsey. After a long day of sightseeing in D.C., we were making our way back to the Metro when Christine spotted Einstein's noggin peeking out over the trees.

We crossed the street to discover the monument in a little park in front of the National Academy of Sciences. The kids realized right away that the base of the statue was no ordinary base, but a star map. The older kids also recognized Einstein's equations in the book he is holding. They all said it was one of their favorites of all the things we saw that day.

What kind of kids have an appreciation for the art that is the statue, the science the man represented, and the beauty of the grove the monument is in? I'll tell you what kind....

...Geniuses.

Out Damn Spot!

2007-07-02T09:35:00.000-07:00

It is widely known that I am totally obsessive about the hair on my face. I now have a standing 2 week appointment for an eyebrow, lip, and chin waxing and still I need to pluck a few strays on the off week.

Can you imagine my dismay when I noticed brown spots in the shape of a mustache between my nose and upper lip?

It started 6 years ago when I was pregnant with Lindsey. Some women get the mask of pregnancy, I got the mustache of pregnancy. I asked my sister about it. Did she experience anything like that? “Nope,“ she replied, “That’s all you.”

Lovely.

I thought it would fade with time, but I think it has gotten worse.

This week, I took action.

The doctor greeted my warmly and looked over the forms I had filled out and, not knowing what I was there for asked, "It says here that you waxed. When was the last time you were waxed?"

"Yesterday. My eyebrows, lip and chin."

She looks at my face and does a little double-take. "Really?"

"I know, I know. That's why I'm here. That's not hair. That's some sort of freckle."

"You're kidding!" she exclaims, and in one foul swoop, slides her stool over, grabs the huge magnifying glass and flips on the switch. "Well, look at that!"

It's always fun to stump the doctor.

I was hoping to go to laser skin care office and have the doctor zap the mustache off my face. It turns out that I wouldn’t need one laser treatment. Pigmentation of this magnitude would need a laser package. Prices start at $1500. Yikes.

There was another option that would work, but would take some time. It is a regimen of cleansers and bleaching agents called Obagi Nu Derm. Cost for a 2-3 month supply? $400. The days of it costing me $100 to wash my face seem so quaint now.

Here’s something you don’t do when you are using the lotion from your $400 system – slather. Pea size means pea size sister!

It occurs to me that I’m bleaching pretty much everything right now, my skin, my hair, my teeth…not my clothes though. The bleach makes my husband itchy. Ha! Irony!

I am tempted to think that it is working already, but I think I have just been blinded by the glaring debit in my checking account.

As always, I will keep you posted on the progress or lack thereof.

Friday Foto - Hey Jude

2007-06-22T19:14:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, I worked at WNEW-AM in New York, the legendary big-band radio station. In it's heyday, Sinatra would stop by to say hello. Our sister station was WNEW-FM, the legendary rock-n-roll radio station. In it's heyday, John Lennon would stop by to say hello.

The world had lost John Lennon on December 8th, 1980 when he was shot outside his apartment building, the Dakota, in New York City. I wasn't alive when John F. Kennedy was assasinated, but I do remember where I was when I heard that John Lennon was murdered.

It was the morning of December 9th and I was listening on my Sony Walkman to a heart-broken Scott Muni on WNEW-FM as he told us the awful news about his friend John Lennon. I was 13. I was walking from the bus-stop to Chrissy Cortez's house on 80th street between 10th and 11th. We'd meet there and then walk up to Dyker Heights JHS together. I walked up her driveway dazed and in disbelief. Someone walked up to John Lennon and shot him. Chrissy opened the door to her house and let me in, but I didn't take off the headphones. I kind of whispered the news to her as I continued to listen for confirmation. Maybe if I kept listening they would say they had been wrong.

John Lennon had always been my favorite Beatle for a lot of reasons - the genius of his music, of course - but also for his sense of humor, intelligence, and the dreams he imparted in the song "Imagine" among other things. To think that a man who hoped for such peace would meet a violent end is more than sad. I was thinking that morning that I could not believe that his life ended that way at the age of 40. How could if be that we were to have no more music, art or poetry from him? Just like that, it's over.

Nearly 9 years later, Julian Lennon stopped by WNEW-FM to visit with his father's old friend, Scott Muni. I was always a little embarrassed to get an autograph or take a photo when celebrities came to the station. I never wanted to bother anyone. But John Lennon's son? Yeah, get the camera.

So here I am standing in the lobby of the radio stations with Julian Lennon. Note the WNEW-FM sign in the back. I'm smiling a little too much, but I remember that he was very kind about the mob scene and charming as he put his arm around me and he joked about something (though I don't know what) and he made me laugh.

It was July 27th, 1989. I was almost 22.

Friday Foto - Return to Chicken Beach

2007-06-15T14:27:00.001-07:00

Last week, I told my mother that I was posting a picture of my Dad cooking chickens on the beach. Not to be outdone, my mother responded, “I have a picture of me and Aunt Marie cooking chickens on the beach too.”

Of course she does. Why wouldn’t she?

It’s the summer of 1970 on the beach at Fire Island. Mom is 35 here, tanned and trim, a mother of 4 and wearing a 2 piece. My Aunt Marie had 3 kids herself, her bathing cap placed oh-so-stylishly on her head. They look so good, but they were also nice, and so I’m sure it presented a difficult situation for other women who knew them. You know, you’re all ready to work up a deep resentment for somebody for looking so fabulous, and then they have to go and be nice and ruin it for everybody.

My sister and my cousin Linda are in the background getting something out of the cooler. I was almost 3 and probably down at the shoreline with my pail and shovel. One of my favorite things to do at the beach was making sand castles with my brother Paul. We’d dig and haul water, and Paul, being the artist that he is, would create some pretty cool structures. But I have no evidence of this fun or sibling bonding. Because why would you take a picture of children playing in the sand, when you could take pictures of grown-ups cooking chickens?

Priorities people! Priorities!

Dining Al Fresco - Friday Foto

2007-06-07T19:10:00.000-07:00

This week's photo brings us back to the beach. When my family packed up to go to the beach, we left early and stayed late. We were there for the long haul.

My mother packed coolers and bags with food, snacks, fruit, napkins, paper cups and a big thermos of the worst iced tea you've ever tasted in your life. Honestly, I don't understand how a woman who cooks as good as she does can screw up iced tea, but she did. I think it had something to do with stretching a dollar and putting in more water than she should have. At home she would dress it up with springs of mint from the backyard, but at the beach, they was no disguising it. "Just shut up," she'd say,"It's nice and cold." And on a hot day at the beach, we would drink it down. I can't go to the beach now without thinking of that iced tea or the special sensation of taking a bite out of a big, sandy peach.

There were sandwiches, cookies, pretzels and such for lunch, but many times we were there through dinner. There were guys selling hotdogs, knishes, sodas and the like, but my parents weren't about to spend all that money. Instead, they did this:

Yes, that is my Dad cooking what appears to be whole chickens, on the beach. The chickens are only half the story. If we were at the beach on a Sunday, there would be macaroni boiling on the BBQ and another pot simmering with tomato sauce. My mother says that the people eating their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner looked longingly at the feast. But I don't think that was jealousy in their eyes. I think it was fear. You know, because of all the crazy.

On the afternoon in the photo, we were in Long Island with another family, the Leos. My father and my "Uncle" Frankie have been friends since they were ten. (My father made a lot of friends when he was 10 and they all remain as close as family for over 60 years now.) So picture us: My parents with 4 kids, the Leos with 3. A BBQ, coolers, a bag of charcoal, lighter fluid, beach bags, towels (including the dish towel hanging off the grill in the picture), and toys. I was a baby during this summer, so there was probably a carriage, diapers, extra clothes, a bottle or two.

Today I went to the pool with the kids and forgot Lindsey's water wings and didn't even pack a granola bar. My mother not only packed raw chickens, but she remembered to bring utensils, and a book of matches. And this is before mini-vans.

And look at my father in this picture! The hat, those glasses, the bathing suit. No one ever looked this good cooking chicken. I love that someone had the presence of mine to say, "Take a picture of Louie cooking the chickens," because who would have believed it otherwise?

Stream of Conciousness

2007-06-04T08:55:00.000-07:00

I was making my daughter Tater Tots the other day. As I was pouring them into the frying pan, I had a flashback to my mother pouring frozen french fries into her big, black cast-iron pan. I was never really into the frozen french fries, but when I grew up my mother didn't take orders for dinner. She made it, we ate it. And in the end, the french fries weren't that bad.

Then I thought...sex can be like that sometimes. Yeah. Sometimes sex is like dinner at someone else's house. You know, you're not really in the mood for what they're serving, but you're there, you don't want to be rude, and you're going to have to eat at some point, ...and as long as the roast isn't burnt and the souffle doesn't collapse, you end up enjoying it!

And that is how you make Tater Tots and start thinking about sex. Welcome to my brain.

Friday Foto - The Friendly Troll

2007-05-31T19:12:00.000-07:00

We were in EPCOT, waiting to have lunch with the Princesses in the Norwegian Castle (note to self: Norwegian food - YUCK!), when Lindsey and I ducked into the gift shop so she could change into her Jasmine outfit.

She says, "Take a picture of me by this big troll Mommy! He looks friendly. He has a nice smile."

I could just eat her with a spoon.

Miss USA falls on her A-S-S

2007-05-29T11:05:00.000-07:00

If you didn't see it last night, here it is. To quote The Superficial, "She slipped and fell during the evening gown portion and, well, that's kind of a big deal when you're in a competition where the only judging criteria are how you look in a bikini and your ability to walk."

Aw, have a heart. Word has it that she was chewing gum at the same time.

Friday Foto - Dreamy Disney Lanterns

2007-05-25T10:23:00.000-07:00

My love for Disney is well known among my friends and family. It borders on obsession. Frank and I are Disney Vacation Club members and use our time share at least once a year. When we are in Orlando, we stay secure in what I like to call "Uncle Walt's Bubble." It's a bubble filled with clean streets in idyllic "towns," pirates and princesses, wishes and dreams.

I have lots to say on the subject of Disney, (and I am well aware that many people think that the whole organization is an evil conglomerate), but for today's photo I wanted to share one of the probably millions of beautiful little details in Walt Disney World.

These lanterns hang from the Mad Tea Party ride in the Magic Kingdom. I love this area of the park. There are trees whose blossoms smell like sweetest honey, huge butterfly sculptures, topiaries of Alice and the Mad Hatter, and the ride itself which has a dream-like quality at night because of the way it is lit.

This is a great example of a Disney detail. It's just a little something that is totally unnecessary, but adds an intagible quality and lends itself to a "magical" atmosphere. It's the details that make this place like no other.

I could get lost in Walt Disney World for days with my camera. I wish I took more photos this trip, but we were so focused on riding rides and catching shows, that I didn't have that much time. Check out my Flickr badge on the right for more pictures. (I'll have that up tomorrow.)

This Land is Your Land

2007-05-21T22:40:00.000-07:00

I overheard this exchange in EPCOT yesterday. The daughter was about 8, the mother held the map, the father silently walked along. They had the loveliest of Scottish accents....

Daughter: (With a hint of dramatic flourish)This is The Land of Tomorrow.

Mother: What?

Daughter: (In the exact tone) This is The Land of Tomorrow.

Mother: The Land

Daughter: ...of Tomorrow.

Mother: It's just "The Land."

Daughter: ....

Mother: Are you thinking of Tomorrowland?

Daughter: Yes.

Mother: That's in The Magic Kingdom

Daughter: Where's The Magic Kingdom??

Sizing Me Up

2007-05-15T21:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon at the mall. With our trip to Disney World looming, it was time to go shopping. Now, don't get me wrong, I love to shop most of the time and for just about anything. But when it comes to pants and...gulp...bathing suits? I end up feeling like I want to shop for a gun to put to my head.

To the makers of pants everywhere: I'd like to tell you something you may not know. People have asses.

Yes, you heard me. People have asses. And thighs. And some of these folks with thighs and asses still have waists that curve inward.

I am one of those people. And while I will acknowledge that I do not possess your garden variety rearend, I don't think I have a "freakish" shape. So I am left to wonder....Why can't I find a pair of pants that button and still allow me to sit and oh, I don't know, breath? Why do most pants that accomodate my legs and bottom then have 5-inch gap at the small of my back?

And one more thing pants manufacturers: Those asses that I mentioned before? Well, they have cracks. And I for one am really tired of seeing everyone's. So can we stop it with the low-riders, please?

So after many an hour, and many a store, I headed to a place that I really did not want to go. It was a place I had never been to. But my friends, desperate times call for desperate measures.

I went to Lane Bryant.

"It's just a 14 for curvy girls, it's just a 14 for curvy girls..." I repeated my mantra.

I grabbed a couple of pairs of capris and headed to the dressing room.

I slipped on the first pair.

Ho-ly Mo-ly. Success! They eased over my curves and then hugged them just right. They buttoned with easily. They zipped smoothly. There was no gap in my waist. I checked myself out in the extra-large mirror that made me look small. Sweet!

I ran out to get a few more styles and realized a couple of things. First of all, I was the thinnest girl in the store. Please understand, my intent is not to mock. I'm just saying that this was a new experience for me. I was proudly and loudly asking for 14's. I was the Lane Bryant equivalent to the emaciated women I see asking for size 0.

Secondly, for some reason, it isn't infuriating to look for my size among the 18's and the 22's the way it is when I'm looking for my size in the 2's and the 6's.

I bought 4 pairs of pants, but wanted one more style.

I asked the woman behind the counter if she could check to see if another store had those olive green capris in my size.

"I'm sorry," she said. "All they had was a 24." she giggled.

And we both laughed at the absurdity of it. Ha ha! A 24! How silly! Those would never fit me!

Suddenly, I was the skinny b***h and I loved it!

"Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello"

2007-05-11T12:28:00.000-07:00

Who: My Mom and Dad

Where: At the beach. Probably Coney Island

When: The back of the photo says it was printed in October of 1971. So, I'm guessing this was the previous summer. They are younger here than I am now. Mom is 36 and Dad 37.

What: There is really no other word to use but frolicking. They were frolicking on the beach. My mother has other pictures from a few years earlier, of my father with a couple of his brothers, my Aunt Marie, and his cousins from Chicago literally making human pyramids on the beach. Beach Blanket Bingo anyone?

Why: Why not?

Frankie and Annette have nothing on Louie and Lorraine.

Open Letters

2007-05-10T15:35:00.000-07:00

To the birds who woke me up at 4:30 this morning...

Dear Birds,

It's still dark out. Pipe down.

Thanks,
JCV

To the shirtless 75-year-old man who was out weed wacking today...

Dear Neighbor,

Stop it. Please.

I keep my shirt on, you do the same.

Wishing you a life free of melanoma and hoping you
have a sense of shame,
J

To the guy on the motocycle with the bag of cans tied to the back...

Dude,

Motorcycles are cool.
Recycling is cool.
Yet together? Not so cool.

I'm just saying,
Jo

Wait until I hit the town pool this summer!

Car Conversation

2007-05-06T19:45:00.000-07:00

Lindsey: Frankie, Miles had a hermit crab in school today. I told him a million times, "Keep that thing away from me!"

Frankie: You told him a million times?

Lindsey: OK. Six.

Friday Foto - July '71

2007-05-04T18:59:00.000-07:00

Location: 5304 11th Avenue

Brooklyn, NY

Backyard "photo shoot"

Photographer: Lorraine Casale

Subject: Me - 3 months shy of my 4th birthday

Fitz of Laughter

2007-05-03T20:39:00.000-07:00

If you haven't read this yet, you may want to. This post won't make a lot of sense if you don't.

I left Frank and the kids at the hotel and drove to Easton to see Greg. Here's the kind of guy I'm married to: He printed directions and maps for me to and from the hotel. Who's better than Frank? No one.

So, I get to the club and find that Greg has sold out the room. I sat a table with 3 people I didn't know. So, when I say he sold out the room, I mean he sold every seat.

First of all, he's very, very funny. Like, brilliant funny. And so relaxed onstage. It felt like we were all kind of just hanging out with him. He fearlessly interacted with the audience in a way that felt like we were helping him write his bits. It was all so natural and "off the cuff" that sometimes I wasn't sure what was improv and what was already part of his set.

Like me, Greg hasn't lived in New York in years, but is still very much a New Yorker. His comedy is honest and all about his life experiences and his personality. The audience ate it up.

He was selling his CD, "Fitz of Laughter," at a table right outside the club (which is in a mall) after the show. I approached and called his name and was greeted with a warm smile, and (in true New York fashion) a hug and a kiss. We hadn't seen each other in 15 years, but it could've been 15 days. We stood there together as he thanked each person for coming out, sold and signed CD's, and shook hands with his fans.

"I have a present for you." I told him, handing him a way-too-girly gift bag.

"What? What do you mean?!" he asked, a little embarrassed.

In the bag was a set of mugs made to promote Greg's father's radio show that I produced back in the early 90's. Each cup had a portrait on it. The short, fat mug said "Rosenberg's Mug." The tall, thinner one said, "Fitz' Mug." Get it? Mug? Their mugs were on the mugs?

Anyway, Greg's reaction was as sweet and sincere as could be. "I can't believe you had these all these years. This is going to be my coffee cup now! Thank you so much. That's amazing."

We went back to the bar to have a drink and talk. (Well, I had a drink, he had an O'Doul's.) I was a little excited and talking a mile a minute. Here's how fast I was talking: Even I noticed I was talking fast.

So, I took a deep breath and slowed down and we talked for about an hour an a half. We talked about comedy and performing. About New York, the Midwest and (Greg's new home) California. We talked about work and family. Radio and writing. And we talked about his dad. A lot.

I think it was good for both of us to talk about Bob. I got to tell him the things his father had said about him all those years ago. How proud he was of Greg and how brave he thought Greg was. I told him about the things I learned from his dad and how I missed Fitz and thought of him a lot. I told him stories about what it was like to work with his father - the fun, the laughs, the classic moments that could only happen in New York.

At one point I apologized. Maybe all this talk was hard for him. Greg told me that he had been on an old friend's radio show in Columbus earlier that day and they had been talking about old times too. "I think today is just one of those days that I'm supposed to talk about my dad." he said with a smile.

I was excited to get his thoughts on stand-up. I am so at the beginning of this, (whatever this is), but after talking to Greg, I feel like I've got - or already had - a lot of the tools of the trade. Some of them I've come by naturally over the years, some I've learned over the last 10 months, listening and watching in the clubs. It was a great to listen to him and feel that my instincts about a lot of things were right. Greg's a comic, but he's a writer - and of course, that's how I see myself. His comedy is personal and honest and smart. He doesn't try to figure out the audience and pander to them. He puts his material out there and lets it find it's audience. (You can read about his thoughts on the importance of honesty in comedy, what "edgy" means to him and more, in this article in the Gothamist.)

"You can calculate what you think is going to make the audience laugh, but it's always better to just be yourself," he said, "Being from New York and living in the Midwest gives you an interesting perspective. Just go with it."

"I don't know where this is all going to take me," I confessed to him, "I'm just having a blast."

"It might take you back to radio," Greg offered, "When it comes to comedy, it's all about radio."

This has crossed my mind before. Radio - it's my roots. Greg's too. After practically growing up in the radio studios his father worked in, Greg can now be heard every Monday at Midnight on Howard 101 on Sirius Radio. There's something really right about that.

I sheepishly admitted that I had a blog. Again he was very encouraging, "Radio, the blog, working the clubs, they all feed into each other."

Greg's got a lot of irons in the fire. Besides the radio gig, he can be seen on VH1's "Best Week Ever," he's sold a reality show to TVLand and a game show to Fox, he's won four Emmys writing for "The Ellen DeGeneres Show," all while playing venues all over the country. Most importantly, he's happily married and the father of two.

I think when a New Yorker is out of his or her element and finds another New Yorker, it's like a little piece of home wherever it may be. There's a shorthand, a strength in shared experiences, a common ground (like no other ground in the world). As a New Yorker, you breath a little sigh of relief when talking to another New Yorker in a place like Columbus, Ohio. Add a little personal history to the mix and well, I guess that's how you end up talking to someone until almost 2am.

Greg sent me an email the next day, saying how great it was to see me and thanking me for the gift. He took the words right out of my mouth.

Truly talented, genuine and generous, Greg Fitzsimmons is the kind of guy whose success you cheer for. Lucky me - I get to call him a friend!

You can access Greg's MySpace page here.
You can read more articles, see video clips, and find out when Greg is coming to your town on his website here and in my links on the right.

Fitz and Starts

2007-04-29T20:31:00.000-07:00

16 years ago, I was a young girl producing a morning radio show in New York City for WNEW-AM. The show featured the talents of Bob Fitzsimmons and Al Rosenberg.

Bob was a fixture in NY broadcasting. As seasoned radio and TV host, Fitz also did commercial voice overs, emceed special events and was a regular on the Jerry Lewis Telethon. He was a distinguished member of the New York Friar's Club. Fitz was larger than life. A team was made of him and Al Rosenberg. Al was a former accountant who would call in to Imus and Howard Stern as a listener, and then later went on to write for each of these broadcast legends. He was paired with Fitz for four and half hours on weekday mornings.

Fitz was the kind of guy who could talk to anybody. From the CEO of the company, to the guy who swept the floors, Bob had a way with everyone. We started to develop a friendship. During the year 1990, my impeding nuptials were a source of amusement for Bob, and he began inviting me into the studio so we could poke fun at the whole affair. I was in on the jokes. I understood what was funny about me and Frank getting married in Brooklyn at a place called the Glen Chateau. Because, you know, you would be hard pressed to find an actual glen or a chateau in Brooklyn. And yet, "Everybody I know that gets married in Brooklyn, gets married in a 'chateau.'" Fitz joked.

Bob Fitzsimmons saw some sort of spark in me. He thought I was funny. And let me tell you, it was so satisfying to make that man laugh.

And so, when the producer position was opening, I wanted it bad. I didn't exactly interview for the job. I just sort of let them know that I wanted the job and I knew I had it when Bob approached me in the hall, gave me a hug and said, "Of course, we'd love to have you." And just like that I was hired.

The Fitz and Rosenberg Show was this crazy mix of people. There was Fitz, the very Irish man-about-town and consumate New Yorker. There was Al - a nice Jewish "boy" living in south Jersey with his 2nd wife, Ann and their large blended family. There was me, the Italian girl from Brooklyn with the big, macaroni eating family. And then there was our engineer, the late Pete Feldman (or "The Feldman" as Fitz would call him), who really defies description. In the midwest, people might describe him as "different."

Come to think of it, it wasn't crazy at all. It was very New York. We were children of immigrants, our ages ranged 25 years, we were from different ethnic and religious backgrounds and yet we were like this little family.

It was during this time that I met Fitz' son, Greg. Greg was my age and honing his craft as a stand-up comedian in clubs all over the country. From time to time, he would stop in and visit, sharing his stories from the road, doing a set on the air and promoting up coming appearances. Bob was fiercely proud of Greg and thought he was incredibly brave and really funny.

Greg and I were talking one day and Bob got this look in his eye and he smiled and said to me, "You know, I forget that you're the same age as my son. I can't believe I let you boss me around!" I remember Greg saying, "You're 23 and you're producing a drive time radio show in New York? Where do you go from here?"

Yeah, I thought I had arrived too. As luck or the industry would have it, less than a year later, we had the rug pulled out from under us. As Bob put it, "They said they love us. They want to keep doing the Fitz and Rosenberg show. Only without a producer, without an engineer and without a Rosenberg." Contracts were not renewed, budgets were slashed and even the general manager of the radio station was fired.

When the dust settled, Fitz was still doing the morning show with Pete as his engineer. Bob was relieved that I was offered a job in Programming because he needed to go to bat for Pete. Pete was diagnosed with cancer and needed the job and the medical coverage. That's the kind of friend Fitz was. Loyal and generous.

I hestiate to write about Fitz because I am afraid I will not do him justice. I'm afraid the details will be lost on anyone who didn't know him, so I will just say this: I adored him. He was my mentor and my friend. He treated my like a favorite niece. He gave me a tremendous amount of encouragement when Frank and I moved to Ohio. He was sure of me when I wasn't sure of myself.

It was heartbreaking to lose him.

Fitz passed away just 2 months after I moved to Ohio. He was only 53. I was there for his funeral. He was the first friend I'd ever lost.

I think of him often, especially as I saw his son Greg's star rise over the years. Greg Fitzsimmons has appeared on Letterman, Leno and Conan O'Brien. He has had his own HBO and Comedy Central specials. He's one of the featured comics on VH1's "Best Week Ever," and has won four Emmy's for writing "The Ellen DeGenerous Show." Fitz would have been bursting with pride.

Many times I have wanted to contact Greg and congratulate him on his success and tell him about the impact his father had on my life beyond the broadcast studio. I always hestiated because I get so sentimental when I talk about Fitz that I was worried he would think as he was reading a letter from me, that the next sentence would say something like, "I think it's time you got to know your half sister." Also, I was a little embarrassed. What if he didn't remember me? What if he thought I was stalking him?

Last week our family had plans to spend Friday night up in Columbus. My son Frankie had an event the following morning and we knew we'd never get out of the house on time. So, we decided to get a hotel room and not be stressed. As Frank was getting directions on the internet, he stumbled upon an ad for The Funny Bone at Easton in Columbus. Greg was performing there all weekend. "You should go." Frank said.

These days, everyone seems to have a MySpace page - Greg and myself included. (Although I have a paltry 28 friends...) I shot Greg a note, reminding him that I worked with his Dad a million years ago and that I was coming up to the club to see him. He told me to find him after the show so we could talk and so I did.

Next: Part II - "Fitz of Laughter"

Friday Foto - Multiple Choice

2007-04-26T19:51:00.000-07:00

Take a good look at the above picture and answer the following questions:

These guys are:
a. The original "Jets" from "West Side Story"
b. The orginal cast of "Grease"
c. The cast from Scorcese's latest film
d. Some guys from Brooklyn in the 1950's

They are about to:
a. sing "Officer Krupke"
b. sing "Greased Lightnin'"
c. pretend to wack people
d. comb their hair. Again.

The guy standing on the far left:
a. is now bald
b. is a proud Grandfather
c. is named Sally
d. All of the above

The guy to his right is:
a. Robert Wagner
b. Leonardo DiCaprio
c. Elvis
d. my father (who still wears his hair in that same basic style and may be combing it right now - again)

The answers are all "d." Thank you for playing.

Music and Memory + Friday Foto = Jan and Dean and Howard Bernstein Marching to Pretoria

2007-04-19T20:21:00.000-07:00

The Blogger was glitchy on Friday when I tried to post this. So, you are getting your Friday Photo on Sunday. Sue me.

When you are the youngest in a family of four children, your family name precedes you when you attend school. Luckily for me, my siblings weren’t hellions, and the teachers at P.S. 160 remembered them fondly and were happy to see another Casale come up through the system.

In September, 1967, a month before I was born, a young man named Howard Bernstein began his teaching career at P.S. 160. My brother Louis was 7 and was a student in Mr. Bernstein’s 2nd Grade class. I guess you never forget your first year of teaching, because 11 years later, (even though I wasn’t in his class), Mr. Bernstein knew another Casale was around and made a point of being extra friendly and also teasing me quite a lot.

I am not sure why, but every time Mr. Bernstein saw me, he would say, “Joanne, you really need to calm down.” I suppose I was a laid back kid, although I didn’t think I was particularly quiet, but when he said this to me, it would drive me crazy. I would say that I was OK and he would repeat that I should calm down, making a motion with his hands – palms down moving up and down. At that point I would get very excited and begin to yell that I was calm. Of course then he would say, “See? You’re out of control.” Then my teacher, Miss Carvo, would come to my rescue and tell him sternly, “Howard. Leave her alone.” Sometimes he would see me across the school yard or in the hall and just look at me and give me the “Calm Down” signal. After a while, I would just laugh. It was our thing.

Here is a photo from my 6th Grade graduation. Pictured here on the school yard are me, Mr Bernstein, Susie Svendsen, and Maria Eleana Pandolfo. (Maria was a student, not a teacher, but developed way ahead of the rest of us. )

Here I am again with Miss Carvo and George Sosa.

Someday, I will tell the whole story of my 6th Grade experience, the influence Miss Carvo has had on my life to this day, and my friendship with George, but since Mr. Bernstein has found this blog and commented, today my focus is on him.

Here is the body of his comment:

Joanne: Read you blog, courtesy of Mary Kathrine. I was one of the other
teachers who ran across the Brooklyn Bridge with Joan Carvo. Hint: How many
times did I tell you, "Joanne, you have to calm down"

Mary Kathrine is my friend Maria's sister-in-law who is also friends with Mr. Bernstein. Even in NY, it's a small world.

I have musical associations with Mr. Bernstein too. First, there is "Marching to Pretoria." Why a bunch of grade school kids in Brooklyn were singing a South African folk song, I will never know. Were we singing from the point of view of Afrikaans or Boers? Again, I am at a loss. But I do know this: Miss DelCamo (another teacher at P.S. 160) hated that song. Logically, because her room was right across from the music room, Mr. Bernstein would request the song be played before he picked up his class, just to drive his friend Jeanette DelCamo crazy.

When I hear the music of the Beach Boys, I immediately think of their predecessors, Jan and Dean. Why? Because Mr. Bernstein was obsessed with Jan and Dean and shared his obsession with anyone and everyone, including the entire 6th grade class. He even signed my yearbook as "Howard Berstein, Jan Berry, Dean Torrence." (If you want to know more about Jan and Dean, go here.) Mr. Bernstein was fascinated by Jan Berry's 1966 crash that critically injured Jan, leaving him partially paralyzed in his right side. The irony that one of Jan and Dean's hits was "Deadman's Curve" did not escape him. He had the boys in his class act out that song during their end of the year party - Joey Paone at the wheel, crashing into a wall. "You won't come back from Deadman's Curve." Mr. Bernstein also imitated poor Jan - his limp hand dangling from his usless right arm as Dean propped him up onstage for "reunion tours." Jan couldn't really even sing.

Politically incorrect? Sure. But still funny. Anyway, this was Brooklyn, 1979. "Politically Incorrect" wasn't even a term yet.

And so, there you have it. Any kind of "Surf" music will always bring the memory of Mr. Bernstein. Teacher. Lawyer. Rabid Yankee fan. Jan and Dean maniac. Expert at harrassment.

And you also have 11 year old me in a Brooklyn schoolyard celebrating my 6th Grade graduation. I was co-Valedictorian with George Sosa and thought the world was my oyster. I was on my way to a new school in a new neighborhood. Elementary school behind me, puberty still in front of me, and the influence of those times and those teachers always with me.

Seemingly a lot has changed in 28 years, but clearly, I still need to calm down.

Friday Photo Entitled: Why I'm P***sed Sometimes

2007-04-06T19:33:00.000-07:00

Dateline: Summer, 1987

Location: Coney Island, Brooklyn, New York - "Guido Bay"

Subjects: Left - Joanne Nora, (aka "Chicky") my sister-in-law Andrea's sister and the little

sister I never had. Right - Jo. (Me.)

Photgrapher: My brother Paul

This is what I looked like in a bathing suit 20 years ago. And this is why sometimes I'm p***sed.

Yes, we are wearing stretchy skirts as "cover ups." Yes, I am wearing huge silver hoop earrings. Yes, my large hair is permed. Yes, it was the 80's. (Also note how clean the beach is.)

Notice how my skirt is down a little lower than Chicky's. This is because I was trying to hide my "fat" legs. And so here is another reason I am p***sed sometimes. Who, on God's green earth, thinks that anything about them is fat when they are 114 pounds? I was an idiot.

But let's talk about that summer for a bit. It was a great summer. A memorable summer. So much happened that summer. Chicky and I were working at the Brooklyn Public Library. We'd go in early, work a few hours and head to the beach. We'd hop on the B train to Stillwell Avenue and then walk to Bay 1. We'd spend the day together, sunning and talking and very rarely getting wet. Then we'd walk the boardwalk back to train and head home.

One time, we got off the train and decided to have dinner together. We stopped at Joanne's father's butcher on New Utrecht Avenue - they had credit there - and we picked up a couple of steaks. We went back to my house to shower and eat and were going to go to the library to pick up our checks. My parents were in the Poconos. I put a pot on for rice, lit the broiler and jumped in the shower. Shortly after I got out of the shower, we noticed that FLAMES were coming out of the stove. You see, my mother used to store our bread in the oven and I forgot. The bread and the Tupperware bread keeper were on FIRE. I panicked and started to run upstairs to Paul and Andrea's apartment to get help. Chicky thought quickly and grabbed the pot of water and doused the flames.

Here's what we were then faced with: Dirty water all over the kitchen floor. Burnt bread and the the Tupperware bread keeper melted all over the oven's racks in drippy "Alien" fashion. We opened all the windows. We mopped the floor. We took the racks to the back yard and literally took a hammer and chisel to the very stuck plastic. Our boss from the library, Geri, decided to drop our checks off to us to be nice. She took a look around, laughed and said, "What the hell happened here?"

We bought new bread and we replaced the melted bread keeper and everything went back to normal. After my parents came home, my mother kept asking if I thought the house smelled like a candle. I told her no and that she was crazy.

One night I went to a "cop party" with my friend Emily and ended up going out with a Transit Cop from Staten Island a couple of times. The following week at the beach, Tommy picked up me and Joanne and drove us to the train station. Later that week, we saw what we thought was Tommy's police car, we checked the number and everything. We thought it would be funny if we snuck up on him and his partner. The only problem was, they didn't always get the same number car. We apoligized profusely and tried to leave, but the friendly officers said, "Wait, wait girls...who were you looking for?"

Not only did they drive us to the beach, but we had the whole Coney Island transit precinct working as our car service. When it was time for us to leave, we'd just walk the boardwalk until we saw a cop car and sure enough, it was Tommy or one of his friends and we get a ride. We were sitting in the back seat once like a couple of convicts (the tannest, happiest convicts ever), and another car radioed to ask "Who's got the girls?" Our chaufers radioed back that they, indeed had us, and off to the train station we went.

One day, this guy named Nick was hitting on us and being an idiot. He was so stupid that we decided it was time to leave. Nick pleaded with us not to go, but I said we had to go meet our boyfriends. "And they're cops!" Chicky said. Nick rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, right." And just then, with movie-style timing, a cruiser rolled up along the boardwalk and said over the loud speaker, "Girls, are you ready?" Nick's jaw dropped. It was a classic.

When they say "New York's Finest," they aren't kidding.

This was the summer I decided that I didn't really need a boyfriend and that I was going to stop looking and let someone find me. Two months later I met Frank.

Joanne is married now with 3 beautiful kids. We are still friends (and also family), which is so great. We've gone on vacation with my siblings' families and friends, including Joanne and her family. Whenever we get together, we always have a great time. I know that if we lived closer, we'd be hanging out - perhaps causing some trouble from time to time.

Because yes, she's Mrs. Joanne Trattner and I'm Mrs. Joanne Viskup, but we're still Chicky and Jo.

Mom My Ride

2007-04-03T15:53:00.000-07:00

I guess some ladies need professionals to get their car to look like this, but I'm more of a Do-It-Yourself kind of gal.

Worth a couple of minutes of your time. Thanks to Emily for sending me this.

I am also going to add this to a new heading on the right called, "Absolute Musts." This will have links to some fun, funny, interesting stuff that I find on the web.

Have fun!

"Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn..."

2007-04-01T22:39:00.000-07:00

My kids love hotels. Good hotels. In this way, they are very much like me. In this way, I am very much like my Aunt Eleanor.

I cannot go to a hotel without thinking of my Aunt Eleanor. It was with her that I had seen the inside of my first hotel (in Cincinnati actually), and many more all over the country. It was from her that I learned the fine art of room service ordering, shampoo hoarding, and the "aquisition" of hotel accoutrements.

Aunt Eleanor was a rare person to be sure, but her talent at procuring these items was something to behold. And I'm not even talking about towels. Please. Towels are for ameteurs.

Cute, mini creamers? I have 5. Small bread basket and napkin? Fair game. Coffee carafe? Why not? Teeny, tiny vases they dress up the tray with? You betcha! ("Wouldn't one look cute next to each of your brunch guests this Christmas, Joanne?" "Why yes they would Aunt El, yes they would!")

At first you'd play the game of shaking your head in disapproval, but after a while, you'd give in. Once, my mother commented on how adorable the sweetener caddy was in a hotel restuarant. Aunt El got that gleam in her eye and into her purse it went. "I have two houses," my mother encouraged, speaking of her house in the Poconos. Double your pleasure.

Is it any wonder that when we spent the night in a Sheraton in Cinci this weekend I was filled with thoughts of Aunt El? And not just because of all the larceny.

Going anywhere with Aunt Eleanor was a memorable experience, but to travel with her? Ah! She was at her best. It started before we left. She was a master packer. She was so organized and could fit things in suitcases where mere mortals would fail. There is the famous story of my brother Paul panicking the day before his honeymoon, standing over a full suitcase that he could not close with half his bed still filled with clothes. Aunt El unpacked and repacked it all and everything fit with room to spare.

As for the hotel, not only would we get the best rate, but she'd charm the front desk and we'd get the best view.

We'd have high tea at The Peabody in Memphis and Orlando, drinks at the Beverly Hills hotel, or high atop the Hyat Regency in Indianapolis in a revolving restaurant where this conversation happened:

Aunt El: Stanley? Could you squeeze my lemon? That's your job.
Uncle Stanley: Yeah, that's my job. Squeezing lemons and paying the check.

We went to Graceland, Disney World, and the arch in St. Louis. We explored Bourbon Street and Beale Street. We shopped the Magnificent Mile and Melrose Avenue. (Aunt El: "Wait until you hear how much money we saved!" Uncle Stan: "How much money did you have to spend to save
that much money?")

Aunt Eleanor was just as comfortable on 5th Avenue as she was at a Flea Market. That attitude is another of her many gifts to me. From Black Tie events to Backyard Barbeques, Aunt El showed me how to move in any crowd and still be myself. But she had a way of charming people that I don't think I've mastered yet. Even her oncologist and the nurses that cared for her in her final days knew that she was special.

I miss having adventures with my Aunt.

Yesterday, my daughter said, "I wish we could live at this hotel because it's so fancy and you get to order room service like a queen!" The spirit of my Aunt lives on.

And so, this weekend, I kept looking at this ultra-soft little pillow monogrammed with the Sheraton's logo:

I just know Aunt Eleanor would say, "S is for Stanley." or "S is for Suitcase." or "S is for Steal Me."

Friday Foto

2007-03-30T11:44:00.000-07:00

You might be wondering, who is that cute little boy? That would be me, circa 1978.

This is actually one of my favorite pictures with my Mom. Taken in a Polaroid photo booth in while we were on vacation in Lake George, NY the summer before I turned 11.

I'm thinking of putting my new scanner to good use and featuring a photograph or two every Friday. What do you think?

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

2007-03-28T12:57:00.001-07:00

Third in a series on Music and Memory. Thanks to my friend Mike, whose comments on a previous post inspired this one!

1984. It was a big year for Madonna. And for Cyndi Lauper. And for me.

Oh yeah, and George Orwell.

Although Big Brother wasn’t watching us, we all seemed to be watching MTV. Madonna and Cyndi Lauper were two of its biggest stars. To be honest, we didn’t have cable at my house, but there we a ton of late night video shows on and in a pinch there was always American Bandstand.

1984 was a big year. I graduated from High School. Madonna realeased “Like a Virgin.” Cyndi Lauper burst on to the scene with “She’s So Unusual.”

I was 16.

My niece Candice was 5 and very aware of these two singing, dancing, "fancy" dress wearing, shiny jewelry adorned performers and asked me which one I liked better. Well, although it was really a toss up, I felt that as the responsible aunt I should answer Cyndi Lauper. Why? Well, Madonna had already started being…well…Madonna. I couldn’t endorse the chick wearing the “Boy Toy” belt buckle. Not the best example for a 5 year old.

When Candice asked me why I thought Cyndi was better, I said that she had a better voice and that she wrote her own music and Madonna did not.

While the voice quality is up for debate, I was wrong about the song writing. Both women went on to compose songs for themselves, but at the time, they were singing others' tunes. “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” was written by Robert Hazard. “Like a Virgin” was written by Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly. Interestingly enough, these are the same guys that wrote Cyndi Lauper’s “True Colors.”

But, the heart of the story is this: My musical memory of Cyndi Lauper is the following photo of my niece Candice, dressed up as The Unusual One herself:

She’s wearing my shirt and belt and baubles. And I think those are my fabulous, mauve, faux croc ankle straps on her feet. Guilty as charged. She is down the basement in my parents’ house in Brooklyn. Yes, the same basement mentioned here.

And just because Candice will kill me for posting that photo, I am also including this one of the two of us at her brother's wedding in '05. We're just a couple of singing, dancing, fancy dress wearing, shiny jewelry adonrned girls! And together we always have fun!

Picture Perfect

2007-03-23T21:35:00.000-07:00

I volunteered at Frankie's school for Spring Picture Day on Thursday. Here's some of the things I said to the 4th and 5th Graders:

To the many boys with very messy hair, "Dude, are you going with that look? 'Cause you may want to check the mirror and use a comb."

To all the kids AFTER they used the comb, "DON'T PUT IT BACK WITH THE NEW COMBS! KEEP IT OR THROW IT OUT!"

"Which way are you going with that piece of hair? Behind or in front of your ear, because it can't stay where it is."

"Are you going to wear that sleeveless shirt, or are you supposed to put on that other shirt you're carrying?"

"You've got a random hair sticking up here. You need to wet that bad boy down."

"Yes, your pony tail looks smooth."

"Don't comb out your pretty curls."

"Take the comb, go to the bathroom, wet that whole situation down and then comb it."

"Stop goofing around near the equipment."

"I told you girls not to get any prettier and then you did!"

"If you boys are all done getting gussied up, you can go to line number two."

"You are workin' that lip gloss!"

"You had that comb stuck in your hair and you took it out and now it looks like you have horns. I'm serious."

Do you think they will let me do it again next year??

From Soul to Squeeze to Elvis and Paulie

2007-03-18T18:46:00.000-07:00

I was at the gym yesterday, sweating on the Eliptical, headphones on and plugged into my MP3 player instead of the many TV's. I have a weird variety of songs on my SD card, and with each of them comes a memory. Here's some of them...

Paul Carrack - "Oh Oh Oh My My My"

About 9 years ago, I was taking a Jazzercise class at the community center in Englewood. Yes. Jazzercise. Feel free to mock. Anyway, we worked on our glutes to this song. Eventhough it was a pain in the butt, I liked the song a lot. (Get it? Pain in the butt? Glutes? Ah, forget it!) I had never heard it before and asked our instructor, Jane, what the name of the song was and who sang it. For some reason, she could only tell me the name of the artist. That weekend, I went to the record store, or CD store or whatever, to try to track it down. (This must have been before Google. Now I hardly leave the house.) The guy at the store looked up Paul Carrack and there were several albums.

"What's the name of the song?" he asked.

A logical question. I felt stupid when I answered, "I really don't know, but I know he says Oh, oh, oh, my, my, my."

Well, whatta ya know? That was the name of the song!

I love Paul Carrack's "Blue Eyed Soul" style. "Blue Views" is the album. I recommend it. And, if the voice sounds familiar, that's because it is. Paul Carrack had a hit with the band Ace with "How Long" and was the lead singer for Mike and the Mechanics (dumbest name for a band ever). He was in the band Squeeze for about 5 minutes, but long enough to record "Tempted," which is arguably Squeeze's most well known hit in the US. Which brings me to....

Squeeze - "Tempted"

I remember the first time I heard this song. It was the summer of 1981. My friend Debby and I were on our way to the beach with her sister Carol and her cousin Linda. I was almost 14 and kind of excited since this was the first time I was going to the beach on my own. (OK, Carol and Linda were 20, so we really weren't alone, but still, NO PARENTS!) Carol was driving and we stopped at a deli on the way and got roast beef sandwiches for lunch. Debby and I waited in the car and "Tempted" was on the radio. It's one of those perfect singles, catchy as anything, and still one of my favorites.

So, when I hear "Tempted", I think of me and Debby anxiously waiting to get to Bay 1 of Coney Island, also known fondly, as Guido Beach. If you don't know what a Guido is, just think of every stereotypical young Italian male that you've seen in the movies. Stereotypes exist for a reason. Guidos are alive and well on the streets of Brooklyn.

Interesting to note that "Tempted" was produced by Elvis Costello who is next on my list.

Elvis Costello - "I Write the Book"

Elvis Costello will now and forever remind me of my husband Frank's cousin, Paulie. Smart, talented and very funny, Paulie is a big Elvis Costello fan. Paulie's middle name is Benno, which I think might be the coolest middle name ever. He also looks like Keifer Sutherland, which has no bearing on anything, but must be said. Costello reminding me of Paulie is great because thoughts of Paulie always brings a smile to my face. I don't know anyone else like him and I love him like mad. I met him almost 20 years ago and we just clicked. If he tells me there's a movie I have to see or a show I should watch or a book I should read, I'm all over it. He gets me. And I really like that in a person.

This leads me to another song that is not on my MP3 player, but it's a Paulie story. A very Paulie story.

Deep Purple - "Smoke on the Water"

You all know the famous guitar chords, right? Here's what Wikipedia says:

The song is known for and recognizable by its central theme, a crunching four-note "blues scale" melody harmonised in parallel fourths that is one of the most famous riffs in hard rockhistory. The riff, played on a Fender Stratocaster electric guitar Ritchie Blackmore, is immediately joined by hi-hat and drums and electric bass parts before the start of Ian Gillan's vocal. Jon Lord doubles the guitar part on a Hammond B3 organ played through a distorted Marshall amp creating a very similar tone to the guitar. Blackmore uses two fingers to pluck so the pairs of notes can be played exactly simultaneously to match the organ's timing more closely. Despite the heaviness of the main riff, constant movement and interplay within the supporting parts keeps the feel of the song from becoming leaden. The use of the riff only as an interlude between the vocal sections (which feature quite different parts) prevents it from becoming overly repetitive and creates excitement when it re-enters.

OK.

Here's what Paul Benno Viskup said when he played it on his guitar for his young cousin, Frank.

"You like that? I wrote it."

For extra credit, tell me what the music is at the top of the post. UPDATE: The correct music is now up. Sorry!

Tuesday is Toesday

2007-03-12T19:12:00.000-07:00

I am obesessed with my daughter's feet, specifically her toes. I love them. I'm not saying it's normal. I'm just stating fact.

I love to kiss them and bite them. I even talk to them. Lindsey makes them talk back to me in a special voice.

"Good morning Toes!"

"Good morning Mommy!"

Toesies are more than just digits around here. They are family. They have opinions. Sometimes they clear their throat before speaking. They take a turn when we play Candy Land.

Yes, Toesies are quite the characters. So, I proclaim that Tuesdays are Toesdays. Stop by for a picture of the sweetest little piggies around.

The Song Remains the Same

2007-02-27T22:36:00.000-08:00

If you're like me, music is an active experience. I feel like my life has a soundtrack. A song can take you back to a moment in time. Sometimes the music is tied to a specific person or place. No matter how many years go by, you hear a song and there you are again - 25, 17, 12 - surrounded by the faces and spaces of your past. This is first in a series I'm calling "Music and Memory."

When you are the youngest in the family with four children, you inherit a lot of things from your siblings. Clothes, toys, books – this is all expected to be handed down. If you’re the youngest in your family, there is something else you may have inherited without even realizing it… your taste in music.

First of all, we need to talk about the age differences, and the years of music I've been lucky enough to be exposed to. My sister Audrey was born in 1956, Louis was born in 1960, Paul in ’62 and I was born in ’67. So, while I was in the womb and not able to experience the music of the “Summer of Love” for myself, my sister experienced for me and brought it into my life through the 45’s she kept in the green box on the ledge next to the bar in my parents’ basement.

The basement. So many of my early musical memories involve that basement. The metal steps that led down to the basement were like a little gateway to freedom and privacy in a house made up of “railroad rooms.” The large, finished basement was where we played with our friends, where we studied and did homework, where my brother Paul painted. It was where we would eventually have alone time with boyfriends and girlfriends. It was where we listened to music.

So when I hear certain songs or groups, suddenly I am there in the basement – the black and white check Kentile beneath my feet, the smell of linseed oil, and my Dad stomping with intent on the floor above me. Translation: “Lower that!”

The Young Rascals, Al Green, The Loving Spoonful, Edwin Starr, The Jackson Five and so many others were found in that green fabric case that held my sister’s records. She wrote the names of her favorite bands all over it in blue pen. Here’s how young I was: I hadn’t even learned how to read yet. I used to memorize the label on the record I liked - A&M, Dick Clark, Arista, Motown. Of course, lots of different artists shared common labels, so mistakes would be made. But they weren’t mistakes really, since they were all great songs. I remember thinking that Edwin Starr’s “25 Miles” was funny because he was talking to his feet. “Come on feet don’t fail me now. I got 10 more miles to go…”

When I hear Led Zeppelin, it’s all about my brothers for me. It’s Louis’ turntable that I wasn’t allowed to touch, but did. It’s Paul and I trying to hear the “backward masking” on “Stairway to Heaven.” It’s me, devouring the album covers, lyrics and liner notes.

It’s funny to think about the backward masking. Why would you want to listen to that music backward, when listening to it forward is so damn good? Funny how back then we had to search for controversy to some extent whereas now “artists” use words I won’t repeat here and “sing” about murder right up front. Last year an Oscar was awarded to the writer of a song entitled, “It’s Hard Out Here For a Pimp.”

Alleged devil worship hidden in the reverse of a song seems so innocent now.

As far as Zeppelin goes, “Stairway to Heaven” isn’t a favorite of mine. I’m all about the songs that really highlight Jimmy Page’s distinctive guitar riffs and John Bonham’s drumming genius - “Houses of the Holy,” “Misty Mountain Hop,” and “Rock and Roll” come to mind. Songs like “The Ocean”, “Fool in the Rain”, and “Dancing Days” get into your head and stay there. The sexiness of “D’Yer, Mak’er” makes a girl want give Robert Plant another chance.

Music and memory jump from past to present now as Led Zeppelin also reminds me of my friend Heidi’s husband, Chad. He’s a big Led Zep fan, although, like me, is a little too young to have gotten there on his own. I wonder where he first heard them. He also plays guitar though, so it stands to reason that he would be enamored with an old school guitarist like Page.

It’s funny when Heidi teases him and asks, “When is it going to end?” She didn’t know that this love affair that Chad has with Led Zeppelin was going to be a lifelong thing.

When it still holds up after all these years, why not?

And so dear reader, here's where you come in. Any memories you'd like to share? Any songs or artists you'd like me to write about? Let's hear it!

Britney - What really might be going on....

2007-02-23T07:29:00.000-08:00

Dooce, arguably the most famous and wide read blogger around, has a great post today about Britney Spears and post-partum depression. I think she's hit the nail on the head. Check it out and let me know what you think.

The Amazing Race All Stars

2007-02-19T17:36:00.000-08:00

My love affair with Reality TV continues with the new season of The Amazing Race. It's an All Star edition so the most popular teams are back. Some are loved, some are hated, none are boring.

Especially these guys. Kevin and Drew, the frat brothers from St. John's University -5 years older and none the wiser. They are an absolute hoot.

My favorite moment from last night?

Drew: "Peru is nice. It's beautiful outside."
Kevin: "I'm sure Peru is nice. We're in Equador."

I'd love these guys even if we didn't go to school together.

Kevin and I graduated from St. John's together in 1988. Drew was a year ahead of us I think.

It was fun seeing Kevin at a reunion a few years back. Of course, there was a buzz about them since they had been all over TV that year.

"You want to drive Kevin crazy?" my friend Billy said, "Walk up to him and go, 'Hey Kev! What have you been up to?'"

I just couldn't do it. I was a fan!

I read in their bio that Kevin has been doing stand up in New York for 3 years. Quite a coincidence what with me doing the same thing here in Dayton. Maybe if they win this time Kevin will come out here and do a show or two.

I'm sorry to say, but winning looked like a big maybe last night. Wrong turns, a flat tire and Drew being outrun by Charla (who is a Little Person), made me have my doubts.

Lucky for them, and for the viewers, they'll be back next week. So will I, cheering the boys on the whole time.

Britney Spears - Bald

2007-02-18T17:25:00.000-08:00

I know it's all over the news, but I couldn't just sit here and not comment. If you haven't seen it. Here it is:
She's still in the process in the above photo, but make no mistake, she is completely bald. And doesn't she look sad?

I feel bad. Especially since a short time ago, she looked like this:

This was November 6th on David Letterman. She was supposed to be on an upswing when she got rid of K-Fed. What happened?

She needs an intervention, and not just a fashion intervention. She needs a bath, and underwear, and counseling. She needs to be reminded that she has two children.

She keeps finding new lows. Doesn't she have any friends?

Heidi, Jenn, Anne - You would not let this happen to me, would you?? Of course not! Julie, Lisa, Jean and all my Bunko girls, you'd stop me in my tracks! Christine would fly out here and smack me one. So would Emily. And my Mother and my sister and my niece and basically every woman in my family? They'd personally drag me to rehab, the salon, and church - but not in that order. It would never get this far.

It makes me sad to think that for all her money and "success" it seems that she is basically all alone. Coming from a place where I can barely choose a nail polish color without consulting three people I trust, Brit's behavior is remarkable to me. It's so obvious that she is crying out for help, love and attention.

I hope she gets some soon.

I'm still rooting for her to be the comeback story of the year. Cross your fingers.

Almost Famous

2007-02-05T19:15:00.000-08:00

Yep, that's me doing stand up! I'm in the middle of my set at the Dayton Funny Bone. At first glance I look as if I am giving the audience the finger, but I'm not. I'm talking about how I will never get used to the phenomenon of road kill. "What's the squirrel's hurry?" I ask,"There's a corn field here, there's a corn field there. Slow down. Look both ways." When I say the words "here" and "there" is when I point upwards with my index fingers. And so, the explanation of the photograph.

The photograph was taken for an article that appeared the the Dayton Daily News this past Friday. It was all about the open mic nights at the two clubs here in town. I've become a regular at The Funny Bone's "Future Legends of Comedy" nights. Dave Larsen from the DDN interviewed several of us and the article was featured on the cover of the GO! section of the paper with the article in the centerfold.

Am I a dork if I say it was cool and I'm excited?

It is interesting to note that the reporter, Dave Larsen, not only lives in the same town as me, but on the same road as our friends, the Zimmermans. This was not really a surprise to me as there are no strangers in this town as I discussed in this post about Kathy Griffin Night. (Which is also mentioned in the article and which was the catalyst to my jumping into stand-up.)

I wish I could send you all a copy of the paper, but you will have to settle for the picture above and a copy of the text of the part about me below. Enjoy!!

Joanne Viskup

Viskup, a married mother of two who lives in Tipp City, has been doing stand-up since August. After seeing comedian Kathy Griffin in April at the Schuster Center, Viskup's friends goaded her into trying an open-mic night at Joker's. "I'm pretty addicted to it now," Viskup, 39, said.

Her first time:"Just to talk into the darkness and have laughter come back at you, it's amazing... These strangers in the audience — you don't know them, they don't know you, you don't know what kind of day they had — and then somehow to connect with them that way. It was exciting. It's a rush."

Support group:
"Every week that I can, I come out. My husband's home holding down the fort, taking my daughter to ballet and picking up my son from his activities. Lisa (Grigsby) wants to develop local talent, and I want to be part of that. And it's a really good, supportive group here. ... We're all learning from each other. Instead of competition, it feels more like we're just cheering each other on."

On her size JJ bra:"It's less of a piece of lingerie and more of an infrastructure. The tag says: 'Made by the Army Corps of Engineers.' "

Let me deconstruct the for a minute. In the paragraph, "Her First Time," wouldn't it have been funny to have said all that and then say, "Oh, you mean my first time doing stand up....same thing."

I actually e-mailed Dave Larsen about the whole "Support Group" portion because the night of the interview I said that the club was a "nurturing envirornment for comics," which makes it sound more like a preschool or a rehab center. Don't get me wrong, sometimes it resembles both, but I thought it sounded very unhip for the paper.

And lastly, let me clarify, that although my friend Heidi may disagree with me, I do not currently wear a JJ bra. I am a 34DD. The bra he is referring to is my real nursing bra which I reveal to the audience by taking it off and pulling it out of my cleavage. Kind of like a rabbit out of a hat. Before I do so, I reassure the man in the front row, "Don't worry sir, I'm wearing two bras, otherwise they'd be on your head."

If I wore a JJ now, I'd be perpetually bent over. When I was pregnant I had my equally large rearend and belly to anchor me.

So that's it! What do you think?

"American Idol" - A Big Bag of Crazy

2007-02-01T20:57:00.000-08:00

American Idol is once again dominating the Nielsen ratings and rightly so. Where else can you witness that caliber of human triumph and tragedy? And insanity?

There are a couple of kinds of crazy when it comes to Idol contestants. There are the Full-Frontal Crazies. You know them from the get-go. Examples: Large 50-year-old woman all dressed in yellow feathers, man dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, woman dressed as a cowboy riding Pumba from “The Lion King,” young man who takes off his shirt and then imitates a panther. We are not surprised when these people can't sing.

The fact that they can’t sing is the least of it.

But then there is this whole other kind of crazy. The Subtle Crazy. The Crazy in Disguise. The Crazy That Sneaks Up On You. These people frighten me even more. They look normal on the outside. They insist that they have "what it takes to be the next American Idol." And then they open their mouths and sing.

The singing, as Simon Cowell says, is “utterly horrendous.”

But this kind of crazy doesn’t believe that for one minute. I think my favorite is the lady who said that she couldn't sing right while standing on the wood floor. Simon and Randy indulge her and let her step off the wood floor and sing. "You actually sounded worse on the carpet." Simon tells her.

This kind of crazy has a complete lack of self awareness, totally misplaced self-confidence, and a tin ear. Simon sits in disbelief, “Honestly,” he asks, “What do you hear when you are singing? What do you think you sound like?” They usually answer that Simon doesn’t know talent when he hears it.

One time he asked a contestant, “When you sing in public, how do people react to you?”

“They go crazy. They’re on their feet.”

“Are they looking for the exits?” Randy asks.

The third kind of crazy is Paula Abdul Crazy. She claps her hands like a 9-month old playing Pat-A-Cake, she swoons over the barely legal male contestants, and she has the nerve to say to several contestests that they sounded "too nasal"- when even at the top of her game she sounded like Minnie Mouse on helium. (Somebody actually said that about Madonna 22 years ago, but it is a fitting description of Miss Paula's singing.)

This season of Idol has been touted as being more mean spirited than the past seasons. And yes, it does get ugly when Simon attacks someone’s looks or weight in addition to their singing, maybe we can do without that. But it’s not like he’s saying, “Great voice sweetheart, but you look like a Troll.” At the heart of the matter is the singing. So it’s more like, “That sounded terrible...and you look like a Troll.” And really, Simon is only saying out loud what we are all thinking anyway.

I recently tried out for a reality TV show, The Search for America’s Funniest Mom. My husband completely supported me because he believes that I am funny. Now, he also says that I look beautiful without makeup, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be trying out for America’s Top Model. Self Awareness my friends, self awareness. (And no, they didn’t pick me to be on America’s Funniest Mom. But. I. Will. Go. On.)

If we’re lucky, we have family and friends that love us and will cheer us on as we strive to reach our goals. Many of these Idol contestants are there with family in tow, cheering them on no matter what. It’s just not right. You shouldn't always cheer people on no mater what. Here’s what I mean: If you have a friend who has always dreamed of being a race car driver, and he’s blind, DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM!

It’s called a reality TV show people – it’s time to face it!

Random Advice for New Mothers

2007-01-17T23:46:00.000-08:00

Just because I can....completely random and incomplete.

1. In terms of your appearance, the appearance of your house and the way you smell...Lower your standards….now.

2. Take a nap with your baby. I don’t mean at the same time as your baby, I mean with your baby in the same bed. The books will say it’s dangerous and that it starts bad habits. While both of those things may be true, I’m telling you that there is nothing sweeter.

3. Give in and get the mini-van. You won’t regret it.

4. Blast your music when you are alone in the mini-van and pretend it’s a hot, red sports car.

5.Don’t get mad at your husband. He really has no idea what to put in the diaper bag.

6. Take a shower everyday. I know the baby loves you no matter what, but consider the rest of us. And yourself.

7. Trust your instincts.

8. Don’t let the baby play in the ball pit at the fast food place. It is a breeding ground for all things vile and viral. Much less sickness in this house since we stopped that practice a few years ago.

9. Bring your husband to the Dr.’s appointments. Let him hold the baby while the vaccinations are given as you stand outside. Then rescue and comfort the baby like the coward you are. (Or is that just me?)

10. Buy the good diapers. There's a reason the cheap ones are cheap.

11. It’s OK to pretend the spit up stain just happened.

12. Sometimes you will want to literally eat your baby’s toes. This is normal.

13. Talk to your baby all day long. Even at the grocery store with people around. (“Mommy needs to buy rice. Where is the rice? Oh, here’s the rice Mommy likes!”)

14. Expose the baby to good music, early and often. You may end up with a kid like this.

15. Careful what you say. Your words will come back to haunt you. (“I would never let my baby nap in the car while I sat there and read a magazine!” Oh, you will now sister. You will now.)

16. Always remember that you are that baby's mother! And that baby? That baby is fantastic!

Ancient Chinese Secret

2007-01-04T17:27:00.000-08:00

Our last day in New York brought us to the Chinese Scholar Garden in Snug Harbor in Staten Island. My sister Audrey came along with us.

Although December isn't exactly the month for gardens, we spent a nice afternoon exploring and taking some photographs. (See my flickr badge at the right and click to view more.)

Whether it's us forcing the museum employees to open the Children's Secret Garden for us ("We don't have to like it, but we paid for it, so we're doing it!" laughed Audrey.), to the hundreds of birds that gathered just steps away from my sister who suffers from ornithophobia ("Your sister is in the car with the doors locked," joked Frank.), we always seem to find something to laugh about.

Fond memories don't always just accidentally happen, sometimes you have to make them happen by trying something new, going someplace you've never been, or discovering a beautiful place in your own backyard.

Astronomically Speaking

2007-01-03T14:04:00.000-08:00

You would never know it to see her in action, but my little girl is chronically anemic. Her hemoglobin has been low for quite some time and after trying a few other treatment plans we are now taking her to the hematologist for weekly iron infusions.

It’s a stressful situation to be sure. We are trying to get to the bottom of this, but the doctors are long on tests and short on answers. I asked the doctor what the ramifications were if this is just the way she is and there isn’t a way to fix it. He said that she probably wouldn’t run any marathons and wouldn’t really be able to do strenuous work. While I joke and say, “Hey, have you met me? I don’t think that was in the cards anyway!” No one wants to hear that their child is not 100% healthy.

For her part, Lindsey is very brave. She only cries for a minute just right before she gets stuck and the IV goes in. We put numbing cream on her arm and have found the nurse who can hit the vein on the first try. I am not embarrassed to ask for Nurse Amy each time because when other nurses try and begin to dig around trying to hit a vein, I get more than a little sick inside.

So, yesterday was another treatment day. Frankie was off from school and had to take the trip with us down to Children’s Hospital. On the way, the kids talked about what their favorite planets were. Lindsey picked Pluto, but was disappointed to hear Frankie give her the news that Pluto has been downgraded and is not longer considered a planet. Frankie claimed Mars as his favorite, while I picked Saturn for its pretty rings.

“What’s your favorite planet besides earth Dad?” asked Frankie.

I thought Frank would say Venus – seeing how it is named after the Goddess of Love and all, but he said Mars was his favorite too. “I can’t say my real answer….” He whispered to me.

We all head in to the doctor’s office and I sign in and pay the co-pay. We sit in the waiting room and I’m starting to get uneasy, knowing what’s ahead for Lindsey. I sit across the room from Frank and the kids and look up from my magazine to see Frank mouthing this word to me:

“Ur-an-us.”

I bust out laughing. Quite uncontrollably in fact.

This is very much my husband. He knows just how to break the tension when I need it.
I’ll just add it to the list of reasons I’m glad he’s mine.

Picture This

2006-12-09T11:24:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, in the not-so-distant-past, we took photos with cameras that required film. In order to see the pictures, we had to finish the roll of film, drop the film off at a developer, wait a few days and then pick them up before we could share them with others.

But we are an impatient bunch.

Camera stores and photo labs gave way to the drive up Foto-Mat. Next day prints became 1 hour photo. Grocery stores promised to process our film while we shopped.

We want to hurry up and get those pictures and show people and give people copies. Most of the time we are giving copies of the pictures to the people who are in the pictures. This is how my parents wound up with 48 pictures of themselves in frames all over their house. My mother is always on the left and my father is always on the right. And they always look good. When you look good, you want to have pictures of yourself around.

It is interesting to note that when I show my friends pictures of my family, someone always seem to look at mom and dad and say, “These are your parents?! Your mom is so pretty and your dad is very handsome!” They say this in a very surprised way that I find disconcerting. Why are they so shocked that this good looking couple has me for a child? What sort of gene pool do they think I crawled out of? They say it as if when I handed them a picture and said, “These are my parents,” that they should be looking at a Cyclops and Medusa.

Now, of course, everything seems to be digital. You don’t have to wait to finish a roll of film, you don’t have to wait to develop them, and you don’t have to develop them at all to share them. We upload, we download and we erase forever the pictures we do not like.

Still, this is does not seem to be fast enough.

When you take a picture with a digital camera, as soon as your flash goes off, your subjects are asking to see the photo in the preview screen of your camera. It’s like, “Oh yeah. There we are. Here. I’m wearing this and you’re wearing that and we’re standing right where we are right now. That’s definitely us!”

What exactly are we expecting to see?

We should all just gather around a mirror.

Do funny looking people do this?

You see, I wouldn’t know because like my cousin Denise said at a family party once, “Look around. Look at all our aunts and uncles and cousins. They are all good looking. I mean all of them. There’s not a bad looking person in this room!”

This must be why my mother is always organizing the photo ops at family functions. “First the immediate family!” she can be heard saying, “Now all the grandchildren!” Everyone groans, but my mother points out, “You complain now, but then you all want copies!”

Now shut up and say “cheese!”

It's My Bloggerversary!!

2006-12-06T19:33:00.000-08:00

One late night a year ago, I stumbled upon Blogger and began this little site. I am so happy that I did. It's been so much fun sharing stories and my take on life with all of you. How nice it is to know that so many of you enjoy reading my stuff.

It's been good for me to get into the habit of writing - who is a writer if she doesn't write? Right?

I have to admit that in the beginning I thought I would run out of things to write about, but here I am a year later with so many stories left to tell.

I hope you will help me celebrate in a couple of ways...

First of all, if you haven't done so already, please subscribe. The form is on the right sidebar. It's pretty painless and will keep you from missing anything.

Secondly, I would love it if you picked 3 of your favorite pieces and posted them to comments with the month in which they appeared (or the link if you know how to do it). This will help any newbies find the best entries on the blog.

Third, please comment. This is also a relatively painless process. Blogger will not send you spam e-mails. Neither will I. You can even stay anonymous if you want. But just know that comments put a smile on my face. And I put a smile on yours, don't I?

And lastly, I started this blog with the tag line, "Log On. Read On. Laugh On. Pass It On." I hope you will do just that and recommend the site to a few friends.

I would be remiss if I didn't say thank you to my husband Frank for being so great about my life (and his) being an open book. Thanks to my family and friends for all the encouragement and for providing me with so much material. And to you fair reader, who I may never meet, thanks for stopping by!

Thanks for making The Girl Out of Brooklyn a part of your day. And remember...

I write, you read. It's pretty simple.

And it's a beautiful thing!

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2006-12-01T08:14:00.000-08:00

Check out these fantastic photos of children's encounters with Santa.

You will either laugh or think I'm very cruel.

The Bachelor Finale

2006-11-28T20:30:00.000-08:00

It’s hard to believe, but Lorenzo’s “amazing journey” has come to an end. It’s amazing to me how many times the words “amazing” and “journey” has been used on this amazing journey.

Lorenzo said the girls were amazing, the girls said Lorenzo was amazing. (“What do you see in Lorenzo?” his mother asked. “He’s amazing…” was the answer.) They all thought their parents were amazing and the castle was amazing and they were all so grateful to have been on the journey together. He sounds like a magician instead of a prince, The Amazing Lorenzo. Can’t wait to see him pull a rabbit out of somewhere.

Seriously people, buy a thesaurus and use some new words. Have you ever seen a thesaurus? They’re amazing!

So, let’s talk about Lorenzo’s parents for a minute. They’ve been married for 40 years and seem very happy. The mother, Amanda, looks much younger than her years, although she had this strange half-grown-out-perm-thing going on with her hair that confused me. Her hair was a little crunchy looking. Like if you touched it, it would make a noise. But still, she is very attractive. The dad, Francesco, spoke with a sweet Italian accent. He thought both women were beautiful and basically kept looking at Lorenzo like he was a lucky bastard.

After meeting the Sadie and Jennifer individually, Lorenzo’s mother invited both girls and their parents to brunch at the same time. She said that she wanted to put them all in sort of a stew and stir it up and see what would happen. I’m sure that she was really using the producers’ recipe for “Awkward Soup,” made only more awkward by Jennifer’s father pointing out awkward the whole thing was.

Lorenzo’s mother was really fantastic, because Princess or no Princess, she suddenly turned into the crazy Italian mother who reads palms. Now, my mother doesn’t read palms, but my grandmother had a little voodoo-ilini happening back in the day. I watched her predict the sex of my cousins’ babies by tying their wedding rings to strings and seeing whether it went back and forth or in a circle. Also, she did this oil and water thing that could tell her whether someone had given you the "Malocchio” or the Evil Eye. She also knew how to pray and make it go away. My mother tells the story of an unexplained fever my sister had as an infant, unexplained that is, until my Grandmother dropped some olive oil into water and saw the Malocchio all over the place. The fever left as quickly as it came after Grandma took action.

I guess my point is, Royalty, money, whatever – Italians are Italians and you never know when somebody’s mother is going to give you the horns, read your palm, or kiss you square on the mouth. Suddenly, Lorenzo’s mom was not a stranger to me. Although I must say, whatever powers she possesses, she will never, ever make a meatball like my Grandma.

But I disgress….

I predicted Jennifer’s win some weeks ago, but of course the editors of the show were skewing things in Sadie’s direction. They didn’t fool me though. At one point, Jen poured out her feeling for Lorenzo, only to be met with his extreme Fire Marshall Bill Lips. Now, some may have thought the lips drawn up to his gums ever so tightly meant that he was uncomfortable. But not me. I saw the lips clenched in frustration at not being able to return her feelings then and there.

As Jennifer walked in to the hall of the castle, she looked very odd. Her shoulders were hunched and her arms were pressed to her sides and perfectly straight. I thought that this was her I-Think-I’m-Getting-The-Rose-And-I’m-So-Excited walk. But my siter informs me that this is her own special walk. Sort of a knock-kneed, stick up her butt, load in her pants combination. Although, how the load got in her pants with the stick up her butt, I don’t know.

In any case, she got her rose and she got her ring and I guess she’s moving to NY. I hope their children have lips.

I won’t even go into how upset Sadie got, because it really was sad. She said she felt foolish. Like all the sudden it hit her, she really though she was finding true love on a TV show. Doesn’t she know that only happens on TV shows? What a minute….Oh, you know what I mean!

The Cloisters

2006-11-28T15:58:00.000-08:00

We visit our families in New York at least three times a year and yet, we rarely get out and do "New York" things. This trip was an exception! We took advantage of the mild weather the Saturday after Thanksgiving and headed to The Cloisters.

Frank and I have been passing by The Cloisters for nearly 20 years now as we drive up the Henry Hudson Parkway on the way to his way to his parents' house in Westchester.

This is typical of New Yorkers. You live in the Greatest City in the World and drive or walk by it's treasures everyday, and never experience them first hand. Or if you do, it's on an elementary school field trip. It happens here in Ohio too. Take the time I went to Pyramid Hill for example. No one here had ever even heard of it, much less gone there.

The Cloisters is actually a part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It houses the Met's collection of medieval art and architecture on a beautiful setting overlooking the Hudson River. With it's cloistered gardens and spaces recreating monestaries, chapels, and great halls and rooms of the 1300's, it's no wonder my daughter Lindsey felt like she was in a castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if this way the Princess' room," she said.

Frank suggeted that I make a list of everywhere I would like to go and take the kids in New York so that we make an effort to hit one each time we visit. When I told Lindsey we were going to a museum with art and pretty gardens she said, "Good. Then I can learn something."

I'm not above being a tourist in my own hometown. Not when we get to see treasures as we treasure a day together.