Results tagged "New York Times"

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!

I can’t seem to take any of it seriously.

Almost like the movie Red Dawn. I mean, I know that was the Russians taking over the Pacific Northwest and not political unrest, but along those same lines of seriousness, it really was terrible what happened to those kids.

It could be that I’m purposely turning a blind eye to all of the protesting, the people yelling “THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING” while they are driven off, handcuffed in paddywagons. It all makes me feel so tired. Of course we’re watching — nothing else is on. And it was REALLY funny the other day when a good friend commented on Facebook about the silliness surrounding the Occupy Hamptons movement. Because, as you can imagine, it really is JUST as ridiculous as it sounds. Occupy. Hamptons. Movement (ew). Paddywagons, by the way, were once upon a time called Black Marias. Add that to today’s list of useless knowledge.

And I’m reaching for a time when it was DAMN RIGHT to be extreme. When screaming your cause, while not showering and camping out in rat infested parks was maybe a good idea to get the point across… There were my bumper stickers. The anti-domestic abuse and pro-choice banners… paired with peace signs and ying yangs. Social unrest was exciting — Rage Against the Machine and Alice in Chains. Those guys are dead now, at least most of them are… And I remember when Lane Staley died — the New York Times dignified his overdose with a nice little “what took him so long” article about grunge, angst and how silly it is to take yourself so seriously. Because, just like it’s tongue in cheek to pick on the dead drug abuser, let’s all damn the man by smelling really bad. Right?

But that isn’t what’s happening here. With Occupy the Hamptons. Because when you’re really angry that the cost of living is so high.. the schools are mediocre and the middle class deems it unnecessary to vote, making a nice “End the War” sign and repeating “Throw the Bums Out” is really going to make people take you seriously. Here. In the Hamptons. And, okay — MAYBE, I’m making light of what others take personally — but isn’t enough, enough? And don’t you want to not be homeless, much less pretend that you are in an effort to get some point across? What was that point again? Maybe that here, just like there and that other place out there — HERE is somewhat, okay-maybe-not-so-much, like everywhere else, AND THAT is why Occupy the Hamptons exists. To protest that we are just like everyone else… but we have really expensive taste. Is that so WRONG? Why don’t we get to protest — JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE? It just isn’t fair that movie stars live here and expect you NOT to recognize them. Or that they make TV shows based here — just as long as they aren’t actually filmed here. People pick up after their dogs… who cares if they then leave the baggy of poop on the sidewalk for someone else to pick up… And, since I haven’t mentioned it but MY GOODNESS people are angry — plastic bags have officially been banned from the local grocery stores. WHOSE TO SAY WE DON’T HAVE PROBLEMS! But really. Am I really that far off the mark when I suggest that Occupy the Hamptons might just be taken a little more seriously if it didn’t exist? Can’t they just call themselves what they really are — a bunch of peaceful organizers with sharpies, and a little too much off-season time on their hands. OR do I have to go get a bongo and start MAKING SOME NOISE… at a perfectly reasonable decibel, of course.

It might be a little odd to thank someone for being controversial. I mean — if Nixon had turned out to be a really great President, I might be thanking him anyway, but obviously for different reasons. And while I’m sure that there are critics out there that might boo and hiss over this tiny observation… Pulling out the facts — laying blame and spitting on the ground over how much better the world might be had he not led this country into the debacles and shame that he reigned supreme over. Lives were at stake. Livelihoods sat in ruin. I know. But whose to rewind and say that we’d be any different today?… And please, DO NOT answer that.

I may be among the few to acknowledge his ill-fated bravado while thanking him for it at the same time.. He stood out and egregiously erred… Big time. And while he could have sat back and faded away as some far-less interesting Presidents do, he saw his moment and went the other way… seizing the corruption like any other weasel would — And for that I am grateful.

Because if Nixon hadn’t been such a bad President, the New York Times wouldn’t have run a story in today’s paper highlighting Duke University’s shame filled embarrassment in coming to terms with the fact that he graduated from Duke Law, and the collective students and professors that have decided to put on a play about him called “Tricky Dick”. They wouldn’t have talked about how they turned down the idea for the Richard M. Nixon library or refused to give him an honorary under-graduate degree… And, more importantly, they wouldn’t have published this picture, where my Grandaddy sits — hat crooked, brilliantly-wise smile — in 1937 — on Nixon’s right.

And, while I let it be known that my Grandfather had NOTHING to do with Nixon post Duke Law other than a friendly acquaintance, this is probably the best little surprise that anyone has thrown at me lately… Because WHO gets to open up the paper in the morning to see a picture of their very much loved and missed Grandfather, completely and totally unexpectedly?!? Especially on a rainy Monday morning, when all signs point to GO BACK TO BED, sprinkled with nice thoughts of DON’T EVEN TRY… While he sits there — right before moving on with his life to be a successful man of the LAW with a gorgeous (AHEM) family that will someday find themselves running around the house in a pajama-filled tizzy because THERE HE IS — Next to someone that went the OTHER WAY, but still somehow managed to get himself published, top left corner, on page A12 of the New York Times on April 4th, 2011…

Because there he sits, in 1937. And that wise-guy attitude… SO obviously passed down to others…

Related articles

• Duke Law Students Give Musical Nod to Nixon (nytimes.com)
• Richard Nixon: The Law School Musical (blogs.wsj.com)

I started off today with the long list of complaints. It was so long that I even heard myself saying “How long is it?” as I tried to find the end. One after another, after another after another… blah, blah, blah. On and on. Blathering until I decided that it was pretty safe to say that I was in the middle of some sort of meltdown… Either that or I was on a direct path to annoy myself to death.

Yeah, that’s right. DEATH.
And it really didn’t take very much to lead me to this place of disregard. Complete and total ignorance of how happy I actually am… It took so little for me to land there, in fact, that I am questioning my tolerance. There was a time that I was able to work with and exist around complete and total idiots — sexist, deranged, airheaded… you name it — I tolerated, and things were constantly going wrong… leading to weekly fits of anxiety — you know, basic internalization of all things bad for you. I even once had to be put under anesthesia to have the world’s smallest camera sent down my esophagus to measure the amount of stress I was hiding within bodily confines… Only to wake up shouting about deadlines and totally scoffing at the idea that I was stressed out. Is it possible that so much time has passed in not having to deal with certain character types or tough situations that now I am not able to handle the smallest obstacles? Have I become weak when faced with… anything? But where and how did this actually “happen”.

There really wasn’t anyway to predict this — things were going along quite nicely, actually… And just when I began to let myself think that… ‘hmmm — maybe NOW is a good time to relax,’ thus letting life and what have you simply happen, it did. But not the kind of LIFE that I was predicting– you know, a carefree existence paralleling with shameless gluttony and overindulgence… Because in the scope of things, everything that I’m about complain about is quite meaningless… that is given the larger picture of — you know, LIFE.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have things rather good…. LIFE is awesome, for lack of a better word and if only to appease my still bleached out split ends. I have no reason to complain. But then things started breaking down. Last week it was the dishwasher — which is no real BIGS because with flowing water and soap, we can pretty much clear up that situation… but the convenience was lost for days. I scheduled an appointment last Wednesday that we waited for all afternoon with a 1-5 window of time… only to find out at 4:45pm that the appointment had been rescheduled in error for Friday, 1-5. The next day, I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for 1:45 — when I arrived they said I was an hour early for my 2:45 appointment. In both scenarios the operator and receptionist told me that the mistakes were my fault. Which they weren’t, but I took each pill graciously — deciding to fight the larger battle should it rear its ugly head… And then the babysitter quit. Then the car needed maintenance. Then my computer started coughing up hair balls. Then my 2 year old started acting like a 3 year old. Then all of the babysitters answering my classified ad couldn’t speak English. Then there was laundry. Then I didn’t have time to read anything. Then I didn’t have time to write very much… or design… or think… or clean. Then it rained. Then my computer’s server exhausted it’s last breath. Then I demanded. Then I was rude. Then I was reminded of how I used to handle situations. I felt overwhelmingly icky and out of control.

And then, as I sat down to vent it all out to the internet… completely sick and tired of listening to myself sigh (loudly) and blame it ALL on anyone that crossed my path — that is with the exception of the Bluedog who totally looked at me all “Dude, CHILL OUT.” — Everything evened out. The former babysitter showed up, returning the book that I was obsessing over even though I haven’t looked at it in 10 years… apologizing and explaining her abrupt departure… crying almost at how she had left things but more likely because she had reached forty million and couldn’t count the rest of the hairs standing straight on my head. A few good candidates for her replacement called — AND the computer that was laying on it’s deathbed awaiting a logic board transplant (a couple $1,000 to replace) was downgraded to a video card replacement (about $200).

And so, while I’m typing this as a reminder to stop annoying myself to DEATH and just wait things out until signs of improvement begin to appear… I think I’m also, in some round about way, apologizing to the universe for acting so selfish about LIFE and everything that it dishes out…. How easy it is to put on the blinders and act selfish and full of complete and total irreverence.

In 2000, I attended a design conference in Boston that was being presented by the renowned Edward Tufte.

For those of you that are not familiar with Mr. Tufte, not only is he a genius, but also possesses an ego that of which Sting, and his blasphemous Symphonicity, could only hope to acquire. Because I really am fascinated by people that assume to be larger than life… Spinning the earth’s axis on the tips of their pinky fingers while the rest of us just stare with our mouths hanging open and the wonder of it all. And while I have loved Sting for most of my life, The Police made Syncronicity and NOTHING will ever compare. But there I was, sitting among others, listening to Edward’s theories on visual explanations and quantitative information… soaking it all in while furiously taking notes that were sure to get me to where I needed to get to… That place where the beautiful evidence stands up and just slaps you across the face saying “WAKE UP. NOTHING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN RIGHT NOW.” When suddenly it hit me. If I had been nice to that new kid in third grade, he wouldn’t have hated me with every fiber of his body while the tables of time rotated to where he was on the other side, making fun of every breath I would take…

I know this will come as a shock to most of you, but despite appearances, I do not know everything.

I know… But while your busy picking yourself up off the floor, let me make sure to credit the photography above to the New York Times… The New York Times Sunday Travel Section, to be exact — the May 9th edition to be even more complete…An article by Tony Perrottet entitled The Besieged And the Beautiful…  And to be all OBSCENE about it, the photograph was taken by David Yoder for the New York Times. Which was founded and is published in New York City. And if that isn’t a copyright credit given fairly, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS. Oh, and just to be clear, I did not get the permission of any of the parties mentioned above to use this image… but it is detrimental to the point of this post and therefore caution has been thrown to the wind. Let’s just see them chew on that little infringement for a few… being a graphic artist I could throw my Graphic Artist Guild Handbook at anyone’s head. But knowing that by using this image LAWS ARE BEING BROKEN, I can only hope that everyone understands that this is nothing more than A COMPLIMENT. 

Because since May 9th — After reading about Châteaux de Lastours I am completely obsessed. I know, I know… whatevs on southwestern France and PERILOUS CRAGS, but really! Would you LOOK AT THIS PLACE? Talk about giving Rapunzel a run for the German border… #1 – Why did I not know about this place #2 – Why did I not know anything about the history of this place and #3 – WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? Because I know that you knew all about it… I know that you saw this in the Sunday Times a few weekends ago and thought to yourself… Huh – I bet that RY doesn’t know ANYTHING ABOUT THIS. Right? And then you went back to living your life KNOWING that you were keeping this FROM ME. Giggling furiously all-the-while. But hey… I may not have known, but I am NOT WITHOUT RESOURCES! Let’s just hope that I get to finish this post before the copyright police start breaking down my door. 

It all started 800+ years ago. A little known grouping of zealous CATHARS took to these defensive ridges in an attempt to hide away from — you guessed it… THE CATHOLICS. Boo Hiss, Hiss Booooo… But wait. This was around 1208 — when EVERYONE was Catholic and those that weren’t were totally suspect…. BECAUSE THEY WERE DIFFERENT. Not to mention that the world was still totally flat and no one had anything better to do than… TORTURE VALIANT HERETICS. Things are totally different today…right? I mean, I’m Catholic… and so while I know that I need to feel guilt ALL THE TIME, I also know that in order to live a politically correct and happy life I need to allow everyone to BE whomever and whatever they want. Even Stage Moms.

But back in good ol’ 1208 it was not okay to worship two Gods — one good and one evil. It was not okay to build fortresses on THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY. It was NOT okay to believe that some king of the world known as REX MUNDI created the earth and that all things about life were inherently evil. It was okay, however, for the Pope to get all worked up and offended… suggesting that everyone go “KILL THEM ALL…”, resulting in the slaughter of some 15,000 or so Cathars hiding out in fabulous towers and then NOT feel bad about it. I mean would you just LOOK at how far we’ve come as a society?!?! I mean today we even let our teenagers DRINK VAMPIRE BLOOD.

But I’ve gotten away from de Lastours. Today, the whole area of onslaught and DEMISE is a fabulous get-away tucked ever so isolated into the winding hills and vineyards of the French landscape. AND, it isn’t all that hard to get to… train it from Paris to Avignon and then rent a car… DUDES, there is even a MEDIEVAL SPA located in some vamped out (I would imagine) castle ruin where Cathars used to mull about plotting their next hiding place. HOW AWESOME IS THAT? So, in short, I am making a plan. Someday… in the next five years — before I turn 40, I will travel to this place. I will go and soak in the tourist attractions of hundreds of years old bad blood history… And this isn’t some giant HERE ME NOW AND SEE YOU NEVER pitch that isn’t ever going to happen (ahem.. MARTHA). I am throwing down the proverbial guillotine and saving my pennies for this once in a lifetime JOURNEY. And… wait, wait… here it is… WHO WANTS TO JOIN ME? 

Guest Bird #6 – Jillian

Hello everyone,
I have a Blog titled, Is Dis Normal or Dysfunctional and it humorously documents the ironic reality of what happens when you mix true love with children and family living in Aspen, Colorado.

I hope that you enjoy my post and if you want more from where that came from, I would love to have you stop by my website which can be found at: http://isdisnormal.com.

Can you find me?

1. Find me in this picture.
2. Name the city that I am in.
3. Guesstimate the closest year this picture was taken.
4. Guess as many times as you would like.
5. If you answer correctly, I will interview you for an upcoming For The Birds “Bird Watcher Profile” post.
6. Then I will promote the hell out of your story for a week.
7. All about you. 
8. I am no joke about promotion. 
9. Game ends with the right answers.
10. If you were with me when this photo was taken, you can’t play.
11. Mom, Dad… You can’t play either.

Photography by Photog Melanie Zobian

Meanwhile, I’m guesting over at Guest Bird Robin’s blog.. I like her, she’s spunky.