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And here we are. A new year.

Fresh. New. Untouched. Unaffected. And oddly — feeling almost exactly like it did last year.

But that’s not reason to worry. Feeling the same as it did less than a week ago isn’t a bad thing, right? We aren’t supposed to run around changing EVERYTHING immediately, right? I mean… I suppose there are freaks people out there that say “I’M CHANGING, DAMMIT” and then, BOOM, everything is different. There’s nothing seemingly wrong with taking our time. Deciding that we want to do something, think about it… patiently… toil over the details while moving in slow motion. Quietly making the necessary adjustments before we LEAP FORWARD into new things. And I know you were picturing a graceful gazelle just now as I said ‘LEAP FORWARD’… because we are talking about the visions in my mind — and you need to see things as I’m seeing them if we are going to embark on anything together — and in no way am I referencing a leap “year”. Because I don’t think I could handle losing one entire day in 2012. No. No empty, invisible, take-away days — because this is going to be the YEAR OF ME. And you’re coming too.

I’m thinking about making some changes, and since these are life long — they do NOT fall into the evil and ever-failing RESOLUTIONS category. And — I’m not just talking about the small stuff, like this is the last Coca Cola I will EVER drink. No. I’m talking about things that would normally fall on a “Life List”, which is something that I have mentioned in “They’re safe easy to clean and do not cause unpleasant buffeting”, (those were the days)… I’m talking about speeding up the process and, for almost the first time ever, TAKING MYSELF SERIOUSLY. Like — No more soda really means NO MORE HIGH FRUCTOSE ANYTHING…. And, while we’re at it, LEARN TO WINDSURF. But there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to any of this. AND I’m going big, at least for me. Way beyond the Ten Its. My attempts to formulate a list of things that I want to accomplish in the next 40-50 years (if I’m lucky) ranges from the absurd — Sleep through the night… to the mundane — Put Christmas away… to the balls out impossible — DO SOMETHING BIGger than before (I’m open for suggestions). So, I’m speeding it up and giving myself 365 days — although I’ve already lost 4 in the planning stage. So, starting NOW. Okay. After I finish this coke.

And I know. YEAR OF ME, sounds kind of selfish and completely unoriginal. And I totally agree. I completely ripped the idea off from The Summer of George on a Seinfeld rerun the other night. Only — as we all know, the Summer of George was a failed endeavor which saw Mr. Costanza in rehabilitation to regain his ability to walk. I know. NOT FUNNY. But it totally was. Even after watching it for the 40,000th time. His only mistake was that he attempted to do it all alone. Of which, I would never do. Because, yes. I love you too.

And so… as I need to get going on a few things. I am starting the list right now. Please note that this list will change — grow and hopefully shrink with cross-outs as I SUCCEED AT EVERYTHING I TRY. Also, please note that from the boring to the laugh your ass off NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN items all fall in no particular order. Because, that, my friends is life.

• Read all the books in my house before buying new ones
• Quit High Fructose Everything
• Breathe while eating and enjoy every bite
• Walks
• Share a picture everyday
• Teach Will to read
• Teach Jo to walk AND talk
• Not so much spending
• Learn to Windsurf
• Redesign this Blog
• Travel with the Kids
• Relearn CPR
• More NYC
• Go fishing
• Will’s Kitchen, the book
• Bronx Zoo
• Write a Screenplay
• Find the right babysitter (and hire her/him)
• Find my Medium
• Garden. For real.
• Go to the Openings
• Turn conversational Spanish into fluent
• Make edible egg free pasta
• Meet Martha
• Get Jo to sleep in her own bed
• Take more pictures
• Find the right, regular, paying gig

I’m alone currently. No really — Mr. Sal is in the city and both of my children are apparently sleeping. I say apparently because, really — who knows. And when my husband complained about having to spend the evening among adults at some fabulous dinner for business, I imagined myself inhaling a self-rolled ciggy, exhaling while speaking in a British accent “I cannot imagine anything more exhilarating (emphasis on the ‘EXXXHHHHIL‘) than a trip to the city”…. which is a scene that I totally ripped from the Virginia Wolf thriller of a movie, The Hours…. Starring Nicole Kidman…. Regarding several decades of women that seem to be going through unbelievable bouts of self-exploration… which is a nicer way of saying ‘depression’. And, although I am not depressed, or anywhere near the idea of going through a ’bout’ of anything — I do have to say that it’s getting harder and harder for me to remember what it was like to not have kids. To be able to just go. Just decide to do something and then do it….ALONE. ALOOOONE… And, considering this is the second time I’ve been alone in 2011, and most likely the last — what better time to run wild with abandon and go — GO — on 2011. On the other hand, it may have been a mistake to leave me alone, and this glass of wine is delicious…. I’ll wait until morning before I publish this.

Because 2011,
CHANGED MY LIFE.
AGAIN.
(sorry, that was loud. and this post is rather long.)

In 2011, we had a 2nd baby. We had a 2nd baby just when the first baby, now 4 years old, seemed well on his way to independence. And when I think about the dramatic and early entrance that Josephine made into our lives, paired with her current ability to get pretty much anything she wants — at 7.5 months old, it’s hard not to predict that we are in it for a lifetime. And again, NOT TO WORRY, when I say ‘in it’, I am of course referring to the bliss and unbridled happiness that comes with being Josephine’s Mom. The smiles. The heart-melting coos and squeals that make up for the refusal to sleep in her own bed. Or how she spits the baby food back out at you and then laughs at your reaction. But that’s okay, as you wipe the spring vegetable surprise from your face, just LOOK at how cute she is covered in puree…. and whatever, you can just forget about your hair — you aren’t going anywhere anyway.

But I know, having just done this for the past 4 years. This time is fleeting. It really is hard to believe that she’s 7.5 months old and that Will just completed his first semester of preschool. I mean… remember back when he was two and he quit napping and I thought my life was over? I mean… it really was over, but the realization was astounding… WHAT DO YOU MEAN I don’t have time to myself anymore? That I had to put my design ‘career’ (I know, don’t laugh) on hold, sit on the floor and PLAY? I mean REALLY. I’M EDUCATED — and LOOK, now I’m playing TRUCKS? But then it stopped. He did what most do and started playing BY HIMSELF. And then I was sad, alone… sitting on the floor with my trucks (not really). And now Jo — as demanding and irresistible a baby as there ever was…. tomorrow she’ll be kicking me out of her room and demanding to pierce something.

And, I know. I’m going to get to all of the other things that happened in 2011 — I’m just taking my time because I’m still alone. That, and I just can’t get over how pleased I am with everything in my life these days. The fun little boy I have. The food allergies that he seems to be growing out of (!) paired with his need to wear a fire helmet to the grocery store. The sweetest little girl I could have ever imagined — it’s even cute when she’s slapping my face and ripping my earrings out. I’ve even been working on a few design projects that seem to be moving along nicely, and I’m happy to report that things are calm both on the friend and family fronts.

All in all, while tooting my own horn from atop the highest pedestal, 2011 was a really good year all-around.

January… My sister Annie was married to her longtime love, Rob… Which led to a reunion of sorts in seeing friends and family that I haven’t seen in years, some of which read this bloggedy blog and therefore knew way more than I did about myself…. Later, I started reading an absurd amount of anything I could get my hands on, books – magazines, newspapers, a MANUSCRIPT written by a brilliantly talented individual that also had a baby in 2011… January was also the month when I started having Braxton Hicks otherwise known as false and not funny contractions even though I wasn’t due until the end of May. Good Times.

February found Mr. Sal and I returning to Portsmouth, NH where I took this picture whist Braxton Hicking all over New England:

I may never understand why I love this picture so much other than the fact that I was a giant pregnant lady salivating over the whole idea behind this window.

Nothing happened in March.
NOTHING.
Oh come on. It’s not like I was sitting on my hands or anything, although I was waiting for something to happen. Really, nothing happened and honestly, your bravado is rather rude.
FINE. Go see for YOURSELF.

April was one of the scariest months of my ENTIRE LIFE, although it started and ended with a blessing. I kicked the month off by opening the front section of the New York Times to see a 1937 picture of my long-passed Grandaddy on page A12 (with the crooked hat). This was a HUGE surprise and one that I will never forget… It made me feel individual and incognito all at the same time…. Here was this image of a man that all but a hand-full of us recognized thus giving the paper that day an entire different meaning than anyone in the world expected it to. And while there are pictures of people in newspapers everyday, this was a once in a hundred million lives, lifetime treat.

April was going to be a great month.

It was, however, only a few weeks into the month that Josephine decided to start her attempts of escaping from my belly — one of which found me in the hospital under the guise of false appendicitis. Her Alcatraz-like plan was foiled however, mostly due in part by the numerous prayers that were heard by the powers that be. But she didn’t hesitate to try again and five weeks before her due date, Josephine Dwyer was born. After a quick incubation, she arrived home healthy and happy — that is just as long as you are doing exactly what she wants you to. April was also the month when I read a book by Sammy Hagar (hangs head in shame) in approximately 2.5 hours — an amount of time that I will always regret losing…

The rest of the year has been a bit of a sleepless/timeless/listless haze filled with the closeness of growing and playtimes. There have been moments when I stop, clear my head and listen to the news or something, but for the most part I have been in an 8 month hibernation as a full time Mom. Two kids, as I am discovering, is intense. Beyond the trip that I thought I was signing up for, but also filled with an extraordinary balance and calm. Trying to make time for myself has proved to be near impossible, but when I feel the pull and struggle to do more, I come back around. This time is precious and I’d rather be here, experiencing the lives of my kids…. A pedicure would be nice though.

And, to just sum up the rest of the year, because OMG – I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE STILL READING THIS!
June – …the must in the air was a really choice herb…
July – …SOYLENT GREEN, SOYLENT GREEN…
August – …They don’t hate you…
September – …EVACUATION...
October – …Allergy kids and Lepers having so much in common…
November – …let’s all damn the man by smelling really bad…
And, December, Well. We’re here, aren’t we?

So, while not everything that happened in 2011 contributed to the life-changing handle that I’ve given it, the few things that did happen were quite large. [abundant, ample, barn door, blimp, booming, broad, bulky, capacious, colossal, comprehensive, considerable, copious, enormous, excessive, exorbitant, extensive, extravagant, full, generous, giant, gigantic, goodly, grand, grandiose, great, gross, hefty, huge, humongous, immeasurable, immense, jumbo, liberal, massive, monumental, mountainous, plentiful, populous, roomy, sizable, spacious, stupendous, substantial, super, sweeping, thumping, tidy, vast, voluminous, whopping, wide]. It’s amazing how two tiny people can pack such a punch.

And in ending, Merry Christmas my Friends — Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, Bodhi Day, Boxing Day, Hogmanay, Koleda, and Festivus, etc. Happy New Year. I will see you when things are fresh and new, 2012!

Hey Martha,

It’s been a few months since I’ve communicated with you in such a public format, but after reading your help wanted ad this morning, it might be time for us to have a Pow-Wow. And no, I don’t mean that in some sort of Pow-Wow The Indian Boy way… because this is anything BUT politically correct. What I’d like to say is that although the Hallmark Channel is a soft porn version of fabulous, it is time to step up the game. And I KNOW. You have the corner on every possible street in America and beyond when it comes to BEING THE BRAND. From Home Depot to KMart to that weird Home Decorators catalog, I don’t even think it’s possible for you to know your actual reach on a daily basis… But time is short, my sweets. Oprah has left the building.

BUT NOT FOR LONG. It’s only a matter of days… MINUTES, SECONDS in fact before the big O walks right around the corner (with your name on it by the way) and into her own fledgeling cable network, OWN, where she will set her laser beamed gold fingers on the buttons of SUCCESS. Only tiny pixels of color and black and white space before she launches her own line of every product known to man. AND only shards of left over fabric projects before she picks up a glue gun and realizes that, not only has she accomplished everything one can possibly reach for, BUT she’s also rather CRAFTY. Did you NOT see the truffles on her last show?

So, yes. Yadda yadda, whatever. Oprah might not be of the same BREED when it comes to STANDARDS, but dude — there are others snapping at your heels and NO, they are not all guns out Mrs. Fields (who failed, by the way).. Ignoring the idea of competition when in fact there is none. No. These ‘everyday’ women have been watching. They’ve been filing your road map, AND — while you were out collecting the morning dew for this weekend’s spring chicken recipe, THEY HAVE BEEN FLUFFING. I mean really. Gwenyth Paltrow on the cover of the new trashy Bon Appetite screaming about how when she puts pasta in boiling water it becomes edible… Jennifer Lopez, “toning down”… And MY GOD, PIPPA MIDDLETON — DON’T EVEN let her near a sewing machine as she sets the “spring time trends”…

I hear you. I hear you almost as clear as the ice cracking as it wears thin. You are turning 70 soon. You work 7 days a week as it is, and (despite the trail you’ve burned) you can’t do it all. AND WHY SHOULD YOU? But here’s the thing. Looking for a big money investor isn’t the answer… No. All that is going to do is fuel an already overgrown empire. What you need, if you don’t mind a little advice, is to partner with someone that has some but can offer more. Yes. That’s right. Without pointing to the obvious or, better yet, running out on Main Street to prostitute myself as the next game in town (again), my qualifications and life practices are seemingly endless:

Procreation of the cutest kids only.
Complete and total financial dependence.
If you can read, you can cook.
Traditional design theories paired with lots and lots of alcohol.
Anything in excess is bad, unless it makes you disgustingly happy.
Wisteria.
Shallow, but down right Honest.
All eating issues, self-image and PTSD are completely kept in the closet. Locked.
Being a Bitch is OKAY.
When running through the Louvre, take very little seriously.
And of course, on paper I look even smarter and more creative than I think I am…

So, without being too pathetic… I think that this might work out for both of us. I really need someone to complete everything that I don’t finish, and you obviously need someone that can only best be described as ME. I’m easy to reach. Somewhat affordable, and boast an ego equal to whatever you want it to be… That is, unless, you question anything I say or do. AND, without being too repetitive, because you already know all of these things about me, there is a very good chance that I will preach more than I practice, speak in hushed insinuations, AND assume that you are constantly OKAY with any decision I make on behalf of Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia. Because that’s what you’re looking for. Trust me.

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It’s been 10 years.
TEN YEARS.
Think about it while I try to not make this post last until 2020.

Sidenote: Normally, I wouldn’t write an “end of the year” post over a week before the end of the year… but honestly, if I write about the holidays it might just equal talking about the holidays — of which I’m a little over. Don’t get me wrong, Christmas will be tons of fun, but I feel like its taking forever to get here on top of  not really being in a fa la la la mood this year… more like OKAY ALREADY. I know, so eloquent.

I actually thought to myself last night that it’s a good thing that I didn’t decorate too much because MY FOOT I don’t want to clean it all up once ALL THIS is over and done with. And please… Depressed? I have no reason to be… Hormonal? Like a train wreck…

So while I’m petitioning to skip over the next four days and wake up tomorrow with Santa squeaking right back up that chimney, AND perfecting the “It’s not you, it’s me” excuse… Please know that everything should be returning to normal in about 2 weeks…. just in time for 2011 to make her grand entrance…

swans remember everything...

In 1999, 2000 was kind of a big deal. I can remember… we were living in Portsmouth, NH — planning to fly down to Burke, VA to visit best friends for the New Year and Turn of the Century (echo echo echo). I was at the eye doctor getting diagnosed with chronic dry-eyes – aka: inability to produce tears without extreme pain when my Optometrist — a young little female Doogie Howser sat stunned when I told her that my boyfriend and I were planning to fly somewhere to celebrate…. ON A PLANE. But wasn’t I scared? Wasn’t I worried that some cosmic switch was going to flip causing our plane to enter into another dimension? To which I calmly replied – “Well, no…. I hear that 2000 is nothing compared to what 2012 is going to bring.” To which she replied by staring at me blankly — as if her mind had become like dilated pupils all fuzzy dark only to reemerge from the fog in Shangri-La, where I was no longer her patient and she could move on to lighter things… like Beenie Babies and the hideously addictive lure of the food court outside her office walls. Those crazy Druids.

And it would be completely inappropriate to go on and on about the first 10 of the 2000s without making mention of 9-11. None of us will ever forget where we were, what we went through and of course — who and what we lost. Just thinking about that day — which quickly turned into night and then weeks of torture that followed… just thinking about it makes me want to take all the insignificance of the other 9 years and cram them into one of these hideously decorated gift boxes I have laying around — only to be peered into if you want to see extreme happiness and selfless adoration of life… But then I have to slap myself in reminder that life goes on — as we were all able to prove to the universe… Life goes on, and apparently, so does this blog…

Interestingly enough, because we’re back to the really important issue at hand… My current eye doctor is perhaps the 5th most attractive man on the planet, so I’ve never had the gumption to discuss the END OF THE WORLD or flash in the pan collectibles with him out of sheer humility. Our friends from Burke, however, are beyond outgoing– no longer live in VA and now have FOUR KIDS UNDER THE AGE OF TEN. Yes that’s right, and I’ve mentioned them before in unabashed wonder… Which pretty much brings us up to date on where TEN YEARS can lead you. But not really.

The past ten years have been pretty huge for me… as I’m sure they have been for you too. No — I didn’t do anything earth shattering… but each time something changed since 2000, it’s been pretty major… And I could go into a detailed time-line, highlighting each breath and thought process that occurred, but that would just make you feel trapped… in a 10×10′ red room… without a door or window. So, you know what, I’m not even going to get into any of it… ‘It’, of course being the ten years in which I’ve moved between states, gotten married, had a child, become a dog owner, homeowner, opened and closed a mildly successful business, hung out with the devil, learned how to cook, finally grasped the understanding of the term ‘patience’, made incredible new friends AND started the journey of bringing another life into the world. And if that isn’t enough, aside from me… (because I am aware of others when they talk loud enough) many friends and family members have fought and won against life threatening diseases and physical struggles that I can’t even begin to comprehend.

It could be that there are so many things that happened within things in the past ten years that its too hard to fully grasp the enormity of it all. I mean — I’m 35 — I’ve been through three and a half ten year periods and, honestly, the other 2.5 seemed so silly… all premature and childish… Like the word ‘Decade’ is just a fly on the wall of ‘Century’, so WHATEVER, who cares. Once you’ve witnessed the turn of a century, a decade is so 1800s. And with that thought of complete senselessness, I leave you with the thought of ten years (give or take a leap year). TEN YEARS. That’s 5259600 minutes of 3,650 days… Did anything happen?

Just testing to see if Apple has actually made it possible to accomplish EVERYTHING YOU CAN EVER IMAGINE at the same time. Finally.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location: Southampton,United States

Another trip North, but we think we’re actually getting somewhere.

I mentioned previously in part I & part II what life is like around our little house project, but let me say it again.. The people that live in the area — down the street, around the corner and in neighboring towns are among the nicest, most interesting and generally pleasing individuals that I have yet to come across in my vast expansive life… Even that guy walking down main street with the machete, he’s super cool — just looking to help someone with their hedge.

I think we had been in the house for about 10 minutes during this visit when Aunt Jane popped in to tell us she had left her coffee brew on just in case we needed a perk… She lives just a few doors down, and even though she was heading out to work at a local flower shop, we were welcome to ‘help ourselves’… just don’t let the cat out. And if we hadn’t had a blueberry waffle extravaganza a few short hours earlier… we might just have taken her up on her offer… Because not only was I drooling over the overwhelming friendliness of the whole situation, but I was also about to do something completely and totally beyond the boundaries of who I am. A Vapid Blonde was coming over. 

I know.
Hold on.
WAIT JUST A MINUTE.

Yes. For Real. And if I were inclined to be 10 years younger… FOR REALZZZZZ.

And I mean for real. Like in real life.. As in pinch your arm — real. Like internet real, but not… instead real life real. Like right there.. parking her bad-ass Corvette in front of my house.. walking up my walk and giving me a hug. Real. And, not only that, she brought me this:

Just exasperating the essence of cool. Just testing the limits of being calm, cool and collected. Madonna. Jackie-O. Joan Jett. Martha. Vapid’s got the game on you. And despite what the tabloids say… I really didn’t grab her for a PG-13 make-out session…. But obviously, the thought crossed my mind… COME ON PEOPLE, this is ME you’re talking to.

A Vapid Blonde came over to my house and it was fabulous… And after I stuttered through the conversations of only a few seconds of awkward “OH MY GAWD, SHE’S HERE” silent moments. I hope that she saw through the layers of house dust and sweat to see that I’m not that much of a geek… despite my sneakers and inability to control bursts of nervous laughter… I offered her a beer, she accepted, and the rest is within the walls of Native American Dorian Grey… who might just never tell.

But on with the show…
   

There is a fine line between getting your point across and being utterly annoying…

And I think I’m just about to cross it.

Thursday morning I was staring at my Twitter account wondering just what had happened to that one follower had decided to, in fact, pack their bags and move on… Just what were they thinking? Was it my Tweet questioning why some women wear spandex leggings as if they are in a perpetual state of exercise when clearly, they are not… Was it my response to Elly regarding the use of the word Internet as a verb… Or perhaps it was my Artistic Things ReTweet of my post about Ende? All intriguing but not without context — I pondered what drove them away, but decided it was time to just let it go and move on when, out of the corner of my eye, I witnessed the small yet daunting “followers” number wink at me, and then jump back up by one.

If you are one of those people that’s all like OH THAT’S NOTHING, I demand that you go away right now.

Martha Stewart is following me on Twitter, and I don’t think that there is an increment of time fast enough to describe how quickly I reacted in following her back… Or the speed in which I sent her a direct message: “Hey, thanks for the follow, please be sure to check out our new food blog, http://willskitchen.com — all about cooking with kids! Fun and Yummy!”. It only took me a few minutes to realize what a total geek I sounded like but HEY, MARTHA is following me on Twitter!

But it didn’t end there. Yeah, that’s right.. it had to go to another level.. IT JUST HAD TO. Now, I don’t really think that Ms. Stewart is doing the actual tweeting… but one never really knows, do they? It isn’t like she doesn’t have anything else to do…. Regardless, I suspected this was an accident, so I tortured myself and only checked twitter every other hour to see if she was still there. She was. AND – she STILL IS. Although we’ll just see about that after this post.

But why me? Is it because I’m double jointed, or because I mix my colors and whites? Or because I mentioned her new crafting book the other day? OR, because my sister is getting married, or because I just purchased a copy of her new magazine Body + Soul? OR, because I obsess about EVERYTHING? Yes. That must be it… And none of this was driving me crazy AT ALL… Because Martha is following me on Twitter and there isn’t anything to worry about.

BUT THAT ISN’T ALL.

Because a few hours ago my new BFF, Martha, Tweeted this:

RT @themarthashow
Do you want to attend our food blogging show? Make sure to get your
request in before it’s 2 late! http://ow.ly/1zsNU

So — it made sense. Will’s Kitchen, OF COURSE. But wait. Martha found me on Twitter through my twitter ID of forthebirdsblog. I only half mention Will’s Kitchen — the domain is there, but it isn’t linked. It’s all very suspect… and so before my head explodes… I am on a mission. A mission to go to this Martha Stewart taping and, at the very least, somehow have Will’s Kitchen mentioned. And virtually… I am taking all of you with me. And with this I request, dear friends.. sit back, relax and if you find a spare moment, loosen up those vocal chords and sing from the highest heights…  alert the world… Will’s Kitchen on The Martha Show or Bust. One small step for man… 

Dear Mr. Cruise,

In 1995 I worked the Client Services desk at the flagship Tiffany store in Mid-town Manhattan. It was an interesting position where clientele of the store would pick up their engraved items from my station — not quite a sales job — more important I would like to think, although lacking in commission. The job also offered certain perks — the ins and outs of a fabled department store, learning to tie the perfect bow, mingling with artists and top designers and of course celebrity sightings. When I think about it… the list could start and end with Madonna, who stopped in to buy a pen. But there were several others on the ranging scale… Chris Farley, Donald Trump, Susan Lucci, Jerry Lewis… to name a few. It was common to see them coming and going.. most with entourages, all desiring the star attraction. But that was just 1995.

Throughout my life I have seen and even spoken to people that are considered famed. Among the droves, a misplaced few that come to mind are Kirstie Alley, Scott Weiland, Gwyneth Paltrow, Guliani, Angela Lansbury and that lady that played Janice on the Sopranos. Alec Baldwin, John Updike, JFK Jr., John Chamberlain, Moby, Stephanie Seymour, James Lipton, Kelly Ripa, Ina Garten, Bloomberg, Howard Stern and wife, Don Imus and wife, Kristie Brinkley. Bob Rauschenberg — who critiqued my work thus causing my head to explode. I see Matt Lauer on a regular basis… and yes, he is THAT annoying.

When I was a kid I rode in an elevator ALONE with George C. Scott and he
scared the shit out of me.

I’ve been there. I know these people are all artists, entertainers and public figures that somehow go home at the end of the day and become normal — And although I can’t quite wrap my head around how possible that is, this all being said, I apologize. Because when you and your daughter walked in front of my car at the intersection of Hampton Road and Main, I lost my marbs. I wrangled for my iphone. I tweeted, I facebooked, I texted. I called my Mom. I let the small world that I live in be known that you were there in front of me. There you were. And although I don’t really like all of the movies or roles that you’ve chosen, Jerry Maguire was classic… despite being a chick movie. Your role in Tropic Thunder moved me and I don’t think any of us will ever get over Top Gun — despite your being paired with a woman three times your size. I whored you out with the tools of social media, and I admit my guilt.

So what do you say? Now that I’ve blogged about it among the thousands and know full well that you had no idea that I was there… and you couldn’t care less about this… What do you say we move to the first name basis, there Tom. Now that we shared that completely not-intimate not-a-moment… because you’re the first among many to make me act like a complete weirdo when faced with wait.. who? is that? and then drop the ball and act totally silly for about 20 minutes. And if this is enough ass-kissing for someone that is not a die-hard fan for, then I don’t know what is. Yes Tom, you are THAT good.

Sincerely,
Ry Sal

PS. In no way did the hot pink trench coat draw ANY attention to your daughter. Good job remaining inconspicuous. 

It’s official, my sister is getting married.

And although I’m not so sure how she’ll feel about this little online announcement to the UNIVERSE, I’m going to be THAT PERSON, and lay it all out there. Because this is exciting and I NEED TO TELL EVERYONE. I mean why keep it a secret–Why keep BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS when I have the INTERNET at my finger tips?

So… when she asked me to head out to our parents house for some necessary planning, I threw the kid in the car and did what I was told. But then our Mom surprised us by pulling out Nana’s wedding dress — which not only fit my sister — who is gorgeous, by the way (just in case you needed to know), but also sent us to the world of 1939 to when she was married… And just what are we going to DO ABOUT IT? Well we are going to drink wine, lust over the antique fabrics and decide to turn the headpiece into a necklace OF COURSE. I mean REALLY. And what would make Nana happier? The queen of the accessory…. the reason beads were invented…the spark that ignited it all.

Did I mention that I was excited?

I was at the library the other day multitasking.
Because that’s what libraries are for, right?

Writing recipes, looking for design inspiration while simultaneously reading TITANIC TRUCKS to the boy running through the stacked aisles. I was beginning to think that a vacation might be something to consider when all of the sudden books started screaming and jumping off the shelves — dangerously missing my head… I grabbed Will and dove under the nearest table. The piles of books surrounded us as one manuscript fell open at my knees… it was Poe, “I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.” It was then that I realized that something needed to be done immediately… Because I have reached the final point, and this is it. I am dangerously approaching the end of my blogging quota.

Visualize this to be like filling a water balloon to capacity or eating copious amounts of McDonald’s like this guy did a few years ago… only to result in weight gain, heart disease, ulcers and bad skin…. because what did he think was going to happen? I wonder if he wishes that he could go back and undo — kind of like going back and picking through – deleting the bad blog posts while copying and saving the good ones for republishing possibilities… revitalizing the QUOTA. But oh the HUMANITY.

I started For the Birds on August 22, 2008. It was a slow start… and, although I never intended for this blog to turn into what it is now… it has been a journey like no other… similar to swimming across the Atlantic or leaving the space shuttle mid-universe to test out that gravity theory… floating aimlessly into DEEP SPACE. And if you know what this blog is about, then you’re a hair-slight more genius than I, because I lost track a LOOOONG time ago. But I am missing the point.

What I am trying to inch out there is that I am now starting the tedious task of going back, judging myself and then deciding who gets to stay and who gets to go hang out at the pearly gates of archival heaven. But what do you think? If you are here, reading this right now — If you wouldn’t mind turning time off for a few minutes and letting me know if there are any posts that must stay live… Because beyond self-inflicted torture, I am my own souvenir. And I’m sure that isn’t the first time I’ve said that.