What if we won Megabucks...

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to win Megabucks? Actually dreamed and planned of what you would do with all of that money? It's a game we play, on occasion, at our house. It usually follows a rough day at work or at school. Typically, it starts out very noble and rational but quickly devolves in to infectious silliness. Either way, it's better than a board game and most of us can't resist joining in eventually.
For example, the other night we had just such a conversation. It, of course, started out with things like making sure everyone in the family is taken care of financially. Next up were the luxury items - a house in Hawaii, a private plane, an outdoor jacuzzi that seats 20 people, a Canine Rescue Preserve and the old standby of investing in land. My personal favorite from one of my kids that night went like this:
"We should buy the Lays company" she said, completely serious. The rest of us eyed each other warily. "What did you say?" we asked.
"We should buy the Lays company". Again, we glance at each other as I proceeded with caution...
"Do you mean you want to buy the Lays potato chip company?"
"Yeah" she said and I waited for a beat or two because I am reaching the age where, sometimes, things just don't make sense when they first hit the gray matter.......nope, nothing.
Okay, I'll try "Why?" for 500 Alex...
"I'm serious. Have you ever noticed how they always sell out of those things every day? We could make a MINT!"
Now, this was one of those parental moments where I could take the high road or the low road. The high road, of course, is to help cultivate the idea of investing money, rather than just spending it. The low road, on the other hand, was to blow it apart like one of those green pigs on the Angry Birds game.
Angry Birds Piggies Why T-Shirt Size : Large
I'd like you to consider, for a moment, which path I took...
And here we go:
'Oh my God! We could totally use the chips to feed the dogs at the rescue preserve!! Dogs like chips, right? And if we invest in land, we should plant potatoes on it so we don't have to buy any potatoes! THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT! Not only will our family have lots of money, they'll also have plenty of chips and never be subject to a Lays potato chip drought again!!'
Does that make me a bad parent? I don't think so. I think it makes my kids 'well rounded'. Unfortunately, my kids tend to disagree and, by this time, not only had I received the 'death glare' but everyone else had left the room and I was left talking to do the dogs who wanted to hear more about getting potato chips added to their diet.
Well, we haven't yet won Megabucks but when we do, there are going to be a LOT of happy dogs in our corner of the world.

Vacation - 101

Based on how youthful I look in the picture on my blog (cough, cough), it may be difficult for anyone to believe I have a daughter who is an adult.

It's now five minutes later and I've just now recovered from the shock of seeing that in print. It's true, though, my eldest is now 18 years old and as a big gift for her, we are taking a trip to a beach resort in a couple of weeks. ALRIGHT! It's as much a gift to me as it is to her - I admit it. Anyway, I started the countdown of days some time ago and now that we have dropped below 20 days, I'm starting lists and getting ready to pack.

Whenever I travel with other folks, they always seem to be amazed at how efficiently I pack. I've decided it's really not so much that I excel at it, it's just they really suck at it. So, I'm considering giving a class - "Vacation 101". The Syllabus includes such items as:
- Pack for yourself, not a Pack Mule: You do NOT need to have a 1:1 ratio of items to days for anything except underwear. Underwear is the exception to the rule because it takes up very little space and bringing an extra pair gives you the security of keeping your Mother's voice at bay ('What if you get in to an accident?!?'). Heck, if you wear thongs, live on the edge and bring a few extra - they take up no more room in the suitcase than your average tissue so I say have at it! For those of us over the age of 30, one extra pair should suffice.
- Given the choice, an airline WILL lose your luggage (and laugh while they're doing it): Why, if you don't have to, would you risk heading for St. Thomas while your bags take the scenic tour by way of Anchorage? If your trip is 5 days or less, there is NO reason you can't make use of a carry-on bag and a big purse (sorry guys).
- If you are traveling by plane, there is at least an 80% chance that you will not know a living soul when you get off the plane. Feel free to bring only one bathing suit on a beach vacation, one ski jacket on a ski vacation. Listen to this carefully: NOBODY CARES HOW MANY BATHING SUITS YOU HAVE! Besides, having more than one set of tan lines removes the "Wow!" factor when you get home.
- Jewelry is a thief magnet - you don't need it! Consider this, if you are swimming, sunning, exercising, skiing, golfing, eating, bathing or sleeping, what good does jewelry do? Swimming - lose it in the water. Sunning - reflects the sun and blinds pilots of low flying planes. Exercising - bounces up and down causing God only knows what kind of damage. Skiing - Do you have any idea how COLD metal gets?
Golfing - How can you possibly get a good grip with all of that bling in the way? Eating - Ever prepare and eat a boiled lobster? Any jewelry on you or those within a 10 foot radius will smell like seafood for a week afterwards. Bathing - One word. Drain. Sleeping - If you're anything like me, your fingers swell at night - need I say more?

Using reason when considering the above topics the average traveler will remove at least 10 pounds from their suitcase before they even leave the house. Trust me.

This should be on every U.S. Citizen's 'Bucket List'...

One week, last fall, we received word that my ten year old daughter and her class would be attending a Naturalization Ceremony at the Federal Court House here in Concord.

She arrived home from school and, with the enthusiasm and energy only a child can display, blurted out that not only would her class be attending the Ceremony but that she and one other student 'won' the chance to lead the Pledge of Allegiance alongside the presiding Judge!

In case you are interested, we did go and buy her a new dress and shoes for the occasion. After giving the thumbs down on countless dresses running the spectrum from strapless to bustier style, we settled on a very cute gray dress adorned with glass beads and a pair of black and cream ballet flats.

Fast forward to the big morning; my daughter was up before the alarm (unheard of these days), ate breakfast, showered, had her hair and teeth brushed and backpack ready to go with five minutes to spare. Again, since we're typically giving a countdown to 'The Bus' that would rival NASA, it was clear this was a big day for her.

The ceremony was scheduled to start at 9:00. At 8:45, I arrived and as I walked up the granite stairs and entered through the revolving door, it occurred to me that I'd never been in the Federal Court House before. Lots of first impressions but mostly, and especially in light of the reason for being there, I was simply in awe. It was a type of awakening and realization of the fact that, in forty four years, I'd never once been involved in or observed this process. Then there was the two-story high bronze statue with the Scales of Justice. It was a very significant moment for me that would pale, moments later, when I walked in to the Court Room atop the stairs...

It's a huge room, beautifully appointed with stone and wood. This room was absolutely full. There was a panel of folks providing representation from various sectors. There were folks from The Elks Club, from the American Legion, the U.S. Senate and even the Governor himself was there. Aside from the esteemed panel, there were probably two to three hundred guests and family members who'd come to bear witness. Off to one side were Faith's classmates and her teacher. Most important was the group of people who humbled what had just been a very significant moment in my life. The 80-plus people, representing 39 different countries. As I sat waiting for the ceremony to start, I imagined how each person must have had an incredible story to tell. Perhaps stories of a painful past, hardships, persecution, love lost, love gained and all had one common thread: A wish, dream or desire for life in the United State of America. It is not an easy process for someone to go through and it takes great perseverance and dedication. Logically, I could only conclude that passion was woven throughout the group as well.

Making these observations, I felt warmth. Not the kind that screams of hundreds of people in a room with no ventilation. It was the kind that makes you feel like you're being hugged. The kind that makes you feel a part of something else and, in this case, something much, much bigger than yourself.

Governor Lynch approached Faith's class and started chatting with them. Camera flashes started going off and I silently cursed myself for not even trying to bring in a camera (I was uncertain of the security regulations, so I left it at home). Then I wondered if it was okay to curse silently in the Federal Court House.

Upon the entry of a few clerks at the front of the Court, the room quieted, save the occasional chatter of those too young to understand the significance of what was about to happen. For the first time, I noticed two women with strong, ebony faces who were wearing the most beautiful head and body dresses. They were absolutely stunning and the emotion and pride emanating from them was tangible. Sounds hokey, but there you have it. And the mist started rolling in...

We were ordered to rise as the judge was announced and entered the room to take his seat. He gave a heartwarming welcome to all in the room. He spoke of the significance of the ceremony, the commitment of the 80-plus people and their families. He talked about the core values of our country, what we stand for, how we came to be and why we are so strong today. His tone changed only slightly when he mentioned those who attempt to divide our country and those who try to destroy what we, as American citizens have built, support, love and honor. He gave a clear and unwavering promise that American citizens have and will ALWAYS stand shoulder to shoulder in defense of any threat. He finished this salutation by emphasizing the importance of the gift and responsibility each of these people were receiving today.

After introducing the esteemed guests, as well as my daughter's class, he asked each of the Immigrants to rise and repeat the “Oath of Allegiance” after him. Two things struck me; First, the voices were strong and sure as they repeated every word, in a language not native to them, with their right hands raised. Second, some court room staff, I don't know their titles or roles, walked around the group, ensuring that right hands were (in fact) raised and everyone was standing. The mist was turning to drizzle....

Next, the judge announced that the fifth grade class would be singing two songs to mark the occasion. The voices that came out of these kids were beautiful. Now, I always get choked up at the National Anthem at athletic events and such but this was VERY different. As this group of kids sang God Bless America and This Land is Your Land, tears of pride streamed down my face and, unlike my typical behavior, I didn't wipe them away. Even if they weren't looking, I wanted to display how an 'every day' American Citizen is moved by the society in which we live, what we stand for and how lucky we really are. One of the men from the American Legion (79 years old at his own admission) walked to the podium and sang The Star Spangled Banner, Every person in the room stood, hands over hearts, and sang with such emotion that the waterworks, at this point, were full on.
When all was said and done, I walked out of the Court House with a lighter step and my head held a bit higher. I felt absolute pride in my daughter's small role in the ceremony, and overall pride in our country and it's 80-plus brand new citizens!!

Idiots. All of us.

This morning, I found myself having a deep, meaningful conversation with a friend via Facebook comments. That part really isn't important. What is important is it caused me to reflect on decisions and choices I've made throughout my life.
For example, with an allegedly ginormous storm headed our direction, I wondered about the decision to stay, and raise my kids in New England. At first I thought, I love the change of the seasons and I'd miss it if I moved somewhere more temperate. Then I thought about the smell of wood smoke, hanging in the air from November to April - I love that smell. Next up was going to our camp in the summer - I'm sure it wouldn't be half as meaningful if I could swim in the local body of water for more than two weeks out of the year. I'd probably get spoiled and who wants that? Everyone knows water temps above 70 degrees are for sissies.
These and other things lazily crossed my mind until I actually snapped out of it and said to myself 'What, are you an idiot?' The resounding answer was absofrigginglutely.
Let's make this interactive and do a little word association. You comment with something you like about New England and I'll respond with something I like about, oh I don't know, Hawaii.
Ready? GO!

After a week back to work, I've decided I want to be a writer instead...

I've just started back to work after a relatively lengthy medical leave of absence. The leave was miserable, painful, involved two surgeries and a hundred times where I thought I'd much rather be at work than dealing with this stuff. After one week back, I've decided I want to become a writer and below are the top ten reasons why.

1. Not to blow my own horn or anything but I'm pretty good at it. I have it on great authority that some of my writing has made no less than six people laugh out loud...on purpose...through no fault of typographical errors. These were six different people, in six different places at six different times. At "work", when I write stuff, people just want to pick it apart. Whine, whine, whine - it gets annoying after awhile and does nothing for my self esteem. Plus, I'm smarter than some of them and nicer than most. What the hell do they know, anyway?

2. It sure would be nice to be at home with my youngest until she graduates... In seven years. It takes a long time for writers to become successful, right? If I pace myself, Seven years would be the perfect goal for success. I'd just have to acquire REALLY good clock management skills. Perhaps I could write to Bill Belichick to ask for a plan. He's so accessible, I bet he'd do it. Anyway, studies show that kids handle the teenage years much better if there's a parent at home. Insanity may set in before it's all said and done but wouldn't that just make what I write more interesting? Open it up to a whole new target audience.

3. My dogs really appreciate it when I'm home. They like to sit with me all day long. I can talk to myself for eight hours straight and they don't bat an eye. Okay, that's not entirely true. There was the time I talked about finding a way to "T-R-E-A-T" myself to something and, before I realized what I was doing, they were in a frenzy at my feet. That aside, they love it when I'm around and, in turn, I appreciate their no-nonsense feedback (when solicited). Still waters run deep, trust me; except, that is, when the doorbell rings, someone's working on the house or (God forbid) a plastic bag gets rustled in the kitchen. My dogs can hear the crinkle of a mass marketed ziploc bag from anywhere in the house.

4. I love flannel pants but when I try to wear them to work, they're frowned upon. Apparently, while prints, plaids and stripes worked for Herb Tarlek in the 80's, they don't work for me. A little bit of a double standard, in my humble opinion, but rules are rules. Writers, I am assuming, get to wear what they want. Heck, as a writer, I could even work in my Birthday Suit if I wanted. It may precede an uncomfortable conversation with the dogs but they have yet to win an argument with me so what do I care?

5. There are SOOO many stories to be written; most of which are a by-product of work. I've already seen enough material in that arena to fill a couple of books but, for obvious reasons, I can't write any of it while I'm still working there. It's like being caught in a cruel Catch 22. Every time something 'blog worthy' happens, there's that moment of elation where I know I have an evil grin on my face but, once full realization comes, there's a tiny bit of sadness and the smile dies. Nobody's figured it out yet though, they just think I have a lot of gas. That having been said, someone's bound to figure it out sooner or later. Until then it's killing me, one supressed sarcastic line at a time.

6. Becoming a writer would have made my Mom happy. Now there was a woman who hated being part of the 'rat race'. She would pull 'all nighters', scheming and crunching numbers to figure out how soon she could retire. She was very clever and managed to retire at a relatively early age. Did she pass me this gene? This magic with money? No. Instead, she bequeathed to me flairs for producing kidney stones and for cooking. Anyway, if I became a writer and pulled myself out of the rat race at my age, she'd give two thumbs WAY up, I'm sure of it.




7. If I became a writer, I'd have a reasonable shot at meeting David Sedaris without looking like I'm stalking him. He's my comedic literary hero and I have a tiny 'celebrity crush' on him. The man has made me laugh out loud more times than I can count. If you've not heard of him, or haven't read any of his stuff, I'm begging you to read "Naked" or "Me Talk Pretty One Day". Particularly the latter if you actually speak French. The man's a dysfunctional genius.

8. College money. My husband and I have four girls to "help" put through College. They're each two years apart and the first one starts her post secondary education this fall. Assuming they all go, this means, for the next ten years, we will have at least one child in college. Do you have any idea how much money that is? I'll tell you: A LOT. If I'm a writer, I can't lose and here's why: If I'm unsuccessful, I'll have no money and we'll get all kinds of financial aid. In the other scenario (you know the one where I'm a N.Y. Times Bestselling author), I'm making enough money that paying for College is no longer a concern for any of our girls. Did I mention we have four?


9. Summers. I want summers off but know myself well enough to understand I'd be a complete failure as a teacher. First of all, I have the patience of a squirrel crossing the road in traffic. Ask me to explain something once and I'm all over it. Twice? I'm already taking deep breaths and willing the person to 'get it'. Three times? Certainly not a charm as my eyes roll and I start looking around for a backup or escape route. I'm pretty gracious about it though. I always say something like "I must not be using the right words" or "From the look on your face, I can tell I'm not explaining this right" as I snap my fingers in front of their eyes to see if anyone's home while simultaneously grabbing their wrist to check for a pulse. That's nice, right?

10. It's great to make people laugh but, in person, I'm just not that funny. In person, I always end up offending or (worse yet) confusing someone. Talk about a downer - you try to be witty and, in return, you just get a confused look or nervous giggle. That right there is a solid shot to the old ego. Given some time and a backspace key, however, I can sometimes actually make people laugh and, if I don't, my ego doesn't suffer because I can't see them being offended or confused. Everybody wins!!

Well, there it is. The Top Ten reasons I want to become a writer. Here's hoping you enjoyed it.

I have something to confess...

Some time ago, maybe a year or so, my brother approached me very seriously and said "I have something to confess".

Of course, when someone says they're going to confess something, it's got the connotation of something deeply, possibly darkly, secret. The wheels started turning in my head as I considered the possibilities. What could he possibly be getting ready to come clean about? Had he stolen something? Had he taken a job in Alaska? Had he won the lottery? Had he just found out he was the father of an Olympian? A myriad of confession-worthy items flew through my head in the three seconds it took me to say "Really. What's up?"

"I watch Glee" he whispered.

"What?" it wasn't disbelief, I seriously hadn't heard him.
Though clearly uncomfortable, he repeated himself. Not just because I hadn't heard of the show at that time but because I couldn't make his statement make sense, I repeated MYself while the possibilities started mixing themselves up in my head. Had he stolen a job in Alaska after winning the father where he found out he was the lottery of an Olympian?

"You know - the show, Glee?" He asked, his face beet red with embarassment.
To buy myself time, I said "What is it?" and then proceeded to NOT listen to anything he said as I worked feverishly to figure out what the hell he was talking about. Clearly this was an important conversation, right? Clearly, there was a deep meaning here. I mean, he was confessing something. Pouring his heart and soul out to someone he trusted. Me.


"It's a show about High School kids in Glee club".
All I could think was 'Are you kidding me? This is about Beverly Hills 90210?' I must have rolled my eyes and made some noise because he headed for the sales pitch.

Let me explain the sales pitch. Growing up, we were three kids. Two older brothers and me. Our oldest brother is a passionate person at the very least. Since a very young age, he has been passionate especially about music. He frequently felt the need to share his interest and passion in various aspects of music until he felt you 'got' what he was saying. This was fine and he really does know his stuff but when you're a kid, you really don't want to spend an hour or more listening to records or tapes or, God forbid, rhetoric on how the Moog synthesizer is the most pivotal tool in modern music. Hence, the sales pitch.

My other brother (the one confessing) and I learned how to get through these encounters as quickly and painlessly as possible. It was simply a matter of screwing up your face with the appropriate level of (apparent) concentration, finished off with an eye popping 'Ohhh, NOW I see!' statement of realization.

Timing was important too. If you tried to rush the process too much, he caught on and simply started over, using a different approach. It took years to perfect the technique and decades before we could even joke about it with him.

Clearly, the brother in front of me saw this childhood ghost cross my face.

"No, no!!" he pleaded. "It's not like that - It's really good! It's like a bunch of misfits and they sing songs and it's really good." By this time, he was edging his way towards his computer and I knew what he was going to do. Though PCs weren't around when we were little, I'd been subject to a variation on this maneuver many times before with record players, cassette players and various musical instruments. I shivered as he sat down and navigated to "You Tube".

"Just watch this clip, it's really good". That was it. I was done for. Might as well stand there and deal with it for...how long is this clip? Three minutes. I could do three minutes...

What happened next was so predictable it should have been part of a sitcom. I got sucked in. Glee is like an irresistable hybrid of Broadway Musicals meets The Island of Misfit Toys. The impact was immediate and long lasting. I had to watch every episode, to date, and now have a standing 'date' with my daughters to watch every new episode of Glee on Tuesday nights where I have wept openly more than once. I own two or three of the "Glee" CDs. I can't get enough of the music, the characters and Brittany's one liners. I'm pathetic enough to finally realize I needed to tell someone so....


"I have something to confess..."

Win or Lose (Lamenting the end of another NFL season)

Every August, for millions of people (including yours truly), excitement about the coming NFL season peaks. Nevermind opening the jar of peanut butter to see only the smooth expanse of a full season ahead; this jar is sitting on a grocery shelf, in the spotlight, and it's got my name on it. As I approach, I can even hear Madeline Kahn singing in the background "Ohhhh, sweet mystery of life at last I've found youuuuu".

September hits and the season opens. Just prior to game time, I could care less whether the Pats are going to win or lose, I'M GONNA' GET TO WATCH SOME FOOTBALL (and stare at Tom Brady for three hours just to sweeten the deal)!!! I'm making enough 'football food' for a small army while whistling and dancing around the kitchen.

Since I am a Patriots fan, for the first four or five games I'm still euphoric and the food keeps coming. It's early in the season, I'm again amazed at the coaching prowess of Bill Belichick and staff. It also amazes me how well each player responds to that coaching with his given strength or niche, all in the name of Team and Winning.

The Patriots kind of remind me of a bee or ant colony. There is a clear leader who is followed, without question. Everyone else has a specific role to play, they do it and do it well. If ever there is someone who does not buy in to or meet expectations, within the confines of the hive, they rip his head off and kick him to the curb. Nobody whines about it, nobody complains, it's simply a case of not allowing weakness in to the hive but I'm digressing....again.

Back to the season. Every week, we're served up an all inclusive cornucopia of football; The players, the coaches, the games, the post-game press conferences, interviews, top tens, weather conditions, injuries, returns, personal ups and downs, and even a weekly round of "C'mon Man". We are deluged with statistics and facts until we are bursting with them.

Speaking of statistics, is there anyone out there who doesn't want to punch the announcers in the head whenever they spout one off like "If he makes this pass it will be 184 games without an interception". Nine times out of ten, the very next play will end badly. Football fans, and I suppose those passionate about any sport, have a tendency to be superstitious. You simply do NOT jinx the team, the coaches, the players, the opposition or even the weather on a given day. WHY CAN'T THE FREAKING ANNOUNCERS LEARN THIS?

Am I digressing again? Oops.

The season. For 17 weeks, I am a glutton for football and can not get enough. At the end of week 17, like a hard core diet for someone who has been eating burgers and cokes their entire life, they start plucking it away. First, the Monday Night Countdown and subsequent game are yanked away. Next, your team is either done (in which case, you immediately move from diet to fasting and a deep, situational depression), or the playoffs start.

Playoffs. There are a couple of scenarios here.

First, if your team is lucky enough to get in as a Wild Card who has an actual chance, this is really the most you can hope for. It means they will play each weekend until they lose or until they win the Superbowl.
If your team gets a "bye", not only are you brought crashing back to reality by having a week where you watch teams you could have cared less about six weeks ago, but there's a lot LESS games to be had. The Pre-game shows have less material so they turn in to a love/hate fest for just a few teams and now the statistics border on ridiculous. "Did you know he is the ONLY player in the NFL ever to come from the North of Texas, who was born on July 4, 1976 to a couple who immigrated from Albania when the moon was in the 'Seventh House'?"

Really? I made food for this?

Still, if your team has made it this far, you're excited about the game (hopefully games), your emotions fly up and down with every play and, whether they win or lose, you're wiped out at the end of the game.

Let's speculate that your team actually makes it to the Superbowl. You're on the brink of being cut off from pre-game shows, games, post-game analysis, "C'mon Man" and staring at Howie Long on Sundays. Depressing at best. But there's still one final game at which you can look forward. The Mother of all games where even the TV commercials have potential to be laugh-out-loud funny. We don't count the Pro-Bowl because, unless you're actually IN Hawaii and attending the game, it's a non-entity and not worthy of discussion.

This is it. The food is fantastic, you get a decent pre-game and, after three plus hours of football, you are left with one of two things. If your team won, you enjoy watching the post game celebration, the presentation of the Vince Lombardi trophy, the presentation of the MVP Award and players with their families on the field. If your team didn't win, you're done. It's like running knowingly, full tilt, in to a brick wall. If you're anything like me, win or lose, you'll need a box of tissues.

Once all of this is said and done, it's more depressing than putting away Christmas decorations or throwing away that empty jar of peanut butter. Now, everyone has a seven month wait for it to start all over again.

Win or lose.