My Norman Rockwell, I Suppose

It's a bad week for me, and I wish I could say otherwise, because I wanted so badly for everything to work out Okay ... I'm just fine with Okay. One little mishap after another, and I feel so tiny. It's not so bad I suppose - in the grand scheme of things, that is.

I wish to be someone else this week. Someone thin and perhaps a redhead, someone with two parents and a brother and sister who are closer in age. My mother's mother will live at home with us. My brother will be a third year in college on a full athletic scholarship and my sister will be out of college for two years, working for a major internet company. They will be wildly successful for their ages, and their future will be one of great promise and integrity.

I will have a different career, one that will allow me to utilize my organic math and science skills - I will be a criminologist or a patholigist. I will have cat and a bird. I will wear sneakers, often. I will like modern decor. My hair will be stick straight, and I will whine at having to blow dry it every morning.

My father will be a plastic surgeon with a lucrative private practice. My mother will own a craft store and create seasonal wreaths and decorate Christmas trees for the affluent crowd. We will all still get together for a pasta dinner once a week.

This is only part of my alternate life. I could dream, but what is it really worth. And do I dislike who I really am? I don't believe that I do.

Untitled

Donald and Rosie at War

Click on title of post to read about this little spat. I love Donald's response.

Good Morning

My Christmas List

Dear Santa,

Since I have been such a good girl this year, I hope you can help to fulfill some of these holiday wishes. Here's my list: Clive Owen, Season 5 of Footballers' Wives to air on BBC, 6 FT Under to come back to HBO, a Monogram Louis Vuitton, a baby girl Pug, the UGG Cargo boots in brown, the world's smallest horse (see previous post), a kiss from Andrian Grenier, Old School Part II, liposuction performed by Dr. Christian Troy, a one-way ticket to Amsterdam, a case of Maximum Strength Tums, the big giant rabbit that has been terrorizing crops in France (he looks so cuddly), a good fuck byAnthony Kiedis, also a special perfomance by the Red Hot Chili Peppers in my living room (Stace and Amez can come), a shopping spree at Target, for Daniel Craig to look me in the eyes just once, new black eyeglasses with rhinestones in the corner, Audi TT, Howard Stern streamed on the Internet and a pink scarf.

Give Mrs. Claus a big kiss for me.

XO,
Annie

P.S. Also, can Hillary Duff stop making albums and get her old teeth back?

Oh Leo

I have been to the gym three days in a row and am very pleased with this. However, my chocoloate intake is at its highest in months. I don't really even like chocolate that much.

So a good majority of the Christmas gift wrapping was done yesterday, which is a just a great relief as my office was overwhelmed with shopping bags.

We also went to see Blood Diamond, which was great. I realize that I love Leonardo Dicaprio movies - except that sappy Titanic where he was painfully miscast. He was phenomenal in The Departed and Catch Me if You Can. I like that he's a little more filled out in Blood Diamond - he looks more masculine.

Soooo, with that said we're putting him on the Hot List.

Intriguing

This is true shock & awe. I mean wha? What brilliant group of people thunk this? Click on post title to read full story.

Here She Blows

My Digital Camera

After four months, I finally took the time to install the software and download my photos. Today is a super busy day for me and my eye is twitching.

BABY at a gorge on campus
ME at the Corning Museum of Glass
DAN at the Corning Museum of Glass

O Christmass Tree Part II

O Christmas Tree

This weekend was just great. We cut down our Christmas Tree, a beautiful fat one with lots of sap. She is so round that we had to rearrange our entire living room just to accomodate her. We struggled last night getting her in the stand (does one exist that actually works?), but finally got her standing straight and proud. This morning she was on the floor. Bollacks.

(I have some pictures of this event that I will post soon - once I figure it out.)

A must see is Stranger Than Fiction. So wonderfully dry, great acting and Maggie. Love her. Love her. Love her.

Lots of dreams about Mama lately. Strange, but OK. I welcome seeing her in my sleep.

I have another post coming soon. Signing off.

And It Will Snow Today - I Can Smell It

"For some, they find some peace focusing on the person's life and not just his or her death. "

-Unknown

For those of you who asked if I watched Nip/Tuck - well, I finally caught it last night. Sean is certainly a mess, and he's almost becoming annoying for me to watch. This whole Scientology thing is a total bug out, but I think a rather ingenious element to the show's overall storyline. I miss Julia - I just love her.

Anyway, I've noticed that I've been crying alot during television shows - particularly at gross injustices, extreme brutality and most crimes committed with guns. I may have to forego the CSI series and the Law & Order series if this continues. I feel like a nut. I mean I know it's not real, but still ...

So I have to tout a web site that just made my life a helluva lot easier www.gifts.com. Dan is IMPOSSIBLE to shop for, and now he's almost done with just a coupla clicks of the mouse. Cheers.

Signing off.

Let's Write In

There is all of this talk about why Naomi Campbell/Gael Garcia Bernal coupling is so strange. I'm curious to hear your thoughts. Here was my initial reaction:

Naomi - well, she may be one of the world's most well-known models, but let's be real here and admit that Naomi hasn't fully evolved. She's part cave woman. And who is she modelling for these days ... Rocawear

Gael - he's so avant-garde that it seems entirely unrealistic that he would pick such a beastie

LOL

Please tell me someone things this picture is as funny as I do.

&*%$#@#@@!^$ And a Merry Christmas

I am so not happy with what the scale read this morning. I just keep gaining weight - like 10 pounds since the gyno in August. No, please, this can't be right.

Dan lost six pounds. I haven't really noticed him dieting though. Must have something to do with those typhoid pills he's been taking for his India trip. Maybe I should start taking those.

I'm going to close my eyes really tight and try to go back in time like that Japanese character on Heroes (I love that show). OK - good. The scale read 120 lbs.

Stace, Kimmee/Jason please let me know what day you guys are going to be coming up after Christmas. I'm thinking about taking the entire week off.

Chris is coming to visit this weekend and we're getting the tree. Yes, I'm doing Christmas proud this year. As much as I miss my Mom. As much as I hate this turn of events that I can not control. The people around me have the right to enjoy the holidays. And for Danny - who can't wait to cut down a 15 ft. tree. I love him - he's so wonderfully bizarre.

I will close my eyes and go back in time to this day when we were all young and we said goodnight instead of goodbye.

Firecrotch

Or is it Firesnatch? (Click on Title of Post.)

Anyway, what is up with this girl. Maybe someone in AA will give her a pair of knickers.

Whadda Weekend

Busy, busy, busy BUT fun, fun, fun. I am so tired today that I'm not sure what to do with myself. I would take the morning off if I could pull away from my e-mail.

I had an absolute blast with Kathryn and Tom. Dinner at Oriental Diner with Dan's mom was equally enjoyable. And I ended a near perfect Saturday with a sold out venue for my client's concert. I got to see Miss Amy - my perfectly intolerable sister. Though she is the one person who can make my blood boil without ever saying a word, I can't help but want to smother her with hugs and kisses.

Sunday I visited my dear friend Sandra and her fantastic kids. She made pancakes, omelettes and muffins - all delish. We had fun catching up ... if only there was more time.

I just can't wait to be around all of my friends again. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally in love with Ithaca, but I need a social life again. It's not easy making new friends when you've been in mourning.

I made it back to Ithaca (I was about to say Somers) at about 6pm and thought I would fall asleep within two hours, but no such luck. I was awake until about 2am - yet again.

I'm almost done with my Christmas shopping. Hooray!

Anyway, I need to down some more coffee and take my vitamins. Signing off.

Hot List

Because at the end, he got Kimber.

John Hensley from Nip/Tuck taking his papas' (notice the plural) leftovers.

Fuck a Dang Duck

It's a period day and a fuck you day and so close to being a fuck your mama day.

My recent addictions/must-haves/fixations: egg drop soup with the crunchy noodles, pork, tums, my PDA (the 8125 by Cingular), solitaire, uggs, the word cunt.

I am a red fiery ball. I wish to hurl myself at someone's head. I try to not let work matters get to me, but some people are just so fucking annoying. People are so helpless these days, which is becoming intolerable for me. There is only so much more I can take on. What happened to professionals?

Signing off.

Hot List

Daniel Craig has just been added to my list of hunky brits, which includes Clive Owen and Jason Statham. Hught Grant is a hot brit too, but he's not hunky. (Kimmee - please get on this.)

Anyway, I was just zoning.

So Craig was just awesome in Casino Royale. I noticed and welcomed his sexiness in Munich, but it was nothing like his role as Bond. I fantasize about this man's skills. Also, a genuinely decent actor. See Casino Royale - it's good.

Me Likey

on to better things...if you are wondering what to get me for christmas, i would like one of these:

the little horse. this horse's name is thumbelina and she is the smallest horse in the world, weighing some 60 lbs. i really love her.

Therapy is Worth the Money

All of these processing and affect management skills I have been working on since May are - well, err, working. God bless my EMDR therapist. He fucking rocks. I love the fact that I'm allowed to be angry. It's great.

So now that I've made this clear, I'm going to do get out some more of my anger in an open letter to Dogface. My therapists probably wouldn't be too happy about this as this is just so mean and disturbed of me, but really I could give a fuck. I'm one pissed off girl.

Dear Dogface:

I think you’re a pig. I hope your death is slow, painful and leaves you retching and without color in your skin. I hope you are alone as you whimper in pain and wither away. And when all is done, you will enter a dark afterlife where child molesters and rapists will greet you with open arms.

I wonder how you lie in the arms of a man who has left his school-aged children home alone at night consistently; who doesn’t call his 14-year old son daily to see how he’s doing; who comes and goes as he pleases without his children knowing where he is.

I wonder what it felt like for you to be at the funeral of a woman who was devastated by the fact that her husband was having an affair…with you.

Do you know that my brother asked me if, “Dad was having an affair when mom killed herself?” He said that his father had an attitude as if he didn’t care about anything or anyone. He said that his father was coming home late at night and that his mother was always crying. He remembers seeing you at the funeral and he tosses and turns at night thinking about all of this.

It was certainly healthy for my sister to hear you and my father having sex shortly after my mother died…something every teenage girl needs. Thank you for making her uncomfortable in her own home. I hope you remembered to take your money off the nightstand when you left.

I wonder how you look in the mirror and see beauty and security. You are an ugly person. Foul. Dirty. Rotten smelling. Tainted. My God, I'm four hours away and I smell you from here. Dogface, take a fucking bath.

But I'm glad you and my father gravitated towards one another. That is how the weak do it. I mean there is a reason why you lived with an alcholic for how many years - like 30? You see, my father will cheat on you. He will fuck someone else and not feel any guilt about it. And then he will leave you one day. And as soon as you get sick with lung cancer from all of the Marlboro's that you smoke, he will probably walk away from it all because that's what he does best. He will break down your spirit as he did my mother's. He will make sure you feel like the worthless piece of shit that you in fact are.

I speak truths, and I know that all my truths will wrap around you one day and strangle you. But Dogface, let's call a spade a spade here. My father is the guilty one. My father is the one who really deserves punishment. You're just a sad, shy, unattractive person with no conviction. And that's ok. It's probably not your fault. You were probably beaten as a child by your parents, which in turn made you marry an abusive alcoholic and eventually you left him for my father, who's at this point certifiable. I'm not sure if that's a move up or move down, but whatever - he IS a doctor, right?

Anyway Dogface, the letter to my father or better named- Your Boyfriend - will be equally scathing. It'll be a good read.

Cheers,
Annie

Pam and Kid = Done

OK. I was hoping it would last. I like the idea of them together.

Hello, Again

It's been too long. When I start to open up and talk to people, I communicate less through writing. I suppose that I miss it - the writing that is, but not really. What I miss is being around people. I miss You, and You, and You. What I miss are familiar faces, familiar voices, familiar places.

Seeing The Kids this weekend was great. We laughed and cried as both are inevitable. I finally saw Dogface's house. (We will refer to C's girlfriend with this name from now on.) It's a nice house, and I was happy to see that The Kids weren't chained up in human-sized cages. I had this image that C just threw in a chunk of his grilled meat each night.

The Girls - Abby and Maggie - looked sad. Abby is visably sick and needs to see a vet. They don't smell the same. My sister mentioned this to me beforehand.

Peter looked taller, thinner. Amy lost weight. Both hold a sadness that I can't touch, that's entirely different than mine. I don't want to try to explain it. It's too much.

As for the holiday, well, it had it's moments of great fun. As I mentioned seeing my brother and sister was great. Seeing my cousins and my aunt and uncle was also fantastic. Then there is Dan's family who always do their best to make me feel at home. After five years together, I'm getting close.

My aunt, uncle and cousins brought me a Chloe handbag for my 30th birthday. It's stunning. On Thanksgiving Day a client appeared in a page 1 New York Times story. I spent a good amount of time with Stace. I had a wonderful dinner on Wednesday night at a restaurant in Somers - Luce. Dan's mom's pecan pie is just so delicious.

With the ebb and flow of life, great fun usually comes along with even greater heartache. I realize that no matter what I do, no matter how good my intentions are, there is always someone I am going to piss off and/or disappoint. I'm tired of not winning. I'm tired of these broken relationships. I'm tired of losing a piece just as I put myself back together again.

To no one's surprise, I spent a lot of time crying about my mom the last few days. When I was little we used to play the game at recess where we would close our eyes and envision a tropical beach and sunny weather in order to stand the cold. I tried doing a similar thing with our Thanksgiving meal. If I only imagined my mother's cooking, my next spoonful wouldn't taste like Dan's aunt's cooking (which is excellent, to boot), but my mother's much preferred food. The imagination can only stretch so far.

I suppose there is a lot of gossip to get in to. There's more for the hot list. There are so many movies that I've seen to discuss. But maybe tomorrow I will have the energy. Signing off.

Untitled

I'm in love with your ghost.

-Indigo Girls

Mom

Remembering her smile. Celebrating her life.

October 26, 2006

Tomorrow I have to find a way to celebrate my mother's life.

So I will:

• Purchase a strawberry shortcake
• Go out for Indian food
• Hit Tahaughnock in the morning
• Make a collage of family photos
• Cuddle on the couch with Dan and The Boys while watching a scary movie
• Call my sister, brother and aunt and tell them how much I love them
• Wear loafers, jeans and a warm sweater with pearl earrings

A Map of Love by Donald Justice

Your face more than others' faces

Maps the half-remembered places,

I have come to while I slept -

Continents a dream had kept

Secret from all waking folk

Till to your face I awoke,

And remembered then the shore,

And the dark interior

1989

i will work. i will work. i will work hard today. because it's the only thing that's keeping me sane.

Untitled

i'm angry for an assortment of reasons this evening. it started off as a pretty decent monday. i had energy and just cranked through with my work. signed a teen tiny acount, but hell, it's money and the work is enjoyable. i cooked an okay dinner. all this despite me being upset that my aunt was admitted to the hospital on thursday night, and that my sister had been missing a lot of school again as in on the verge of failing a few classes due to unresolved absentees. she's in her senior year, and her the road to failure is unfortunately shining all too bright. it's not good.

my sister is up to her usual, and my aunt--the backbone of our family--is pretty sick, sick enough that she's still in the hospital. but I worked through all of this second, perhaps third degree trauma, because i am emotionally prepared to handle it. yes, i'll admit i was, i am upset about the timing of it all. my aunt and uncle were supposed to visit this week, pick up the kids at dad's office and head up to ithaca for the weekend. i had such plans. mostly, i just wanted to feel them around me. gosh i miss them all. then dad told me that he has another appointment with amy's counselors on thursday morning and it's just not a good idea for her to miss more school. makes sense to me, but i still do wish that i could see her.

i'm not myself these days and dan says that he misses me. i miss him too, but i don't know how to help what i'm feeling. i'm a loving person. i'm affectionate. i'm a good listener. i am a supporter. lately, i'm none of the above. i miss me too.

i made a phone call this evening to my mother's friend. she told me of an encounter she had with a co-worker who knew of my mother as my father is her doctor. his nurses liked to talk to the patients about what a "cuck" (spelling? the word for crazy) my mother was; how she wasn't good enough for my father; what a kind man he was ... this co-worker had no idea that my mom committed suicide. i asked my mother's friend why she was telling me this. i was sobbing.

and because i couldn't let it go, i in turn told my sister. how wrong of me. how fucking stupid of me.

in high school and college i had a friend whom i loved dearly and trusted wholeheartedly. she once told me that her parents said my mother was crazy, a bitch, on an on and on. i will not discredit her parents here. frankly, not one of them is worth my time. from that moment on, i knew our friendship was over forever. she wasn't a good person.

anyway, back to the co-worker ... i managed to fight the urge to call dad and tell him to get his nursing staff under control--that's if he wasn't fucking them all--or i would get the names of the big-mouthed nurses and personally call the rest of his partners and explain the situation. (i know a colleague or two of dad's who might help in this situation.) somehow, being the decent publicist that i am, i could carefully leak a few of his indiscretations to the appropriate people. there is a reason why i'm so observant.

then i had the urge to call up this co-worker and threaten her with bodily harm. also mention that i hope the next time she sees my father he diagnoses her with a terminal illness.

yes, my benevolence is finite.

right now it's all about the fight. i'm pissed.

I Love the Boys from JackAss

 

Chapter 3, Part I

The thing about grieving is that just when I start to feel like all of nature is not against me, one memory with my mom will slither into my head and render me completely useless for days. Given that the year anniversary of her suicide is fast approaching, I am in shambles.

I’ve given up the diet that was working so well, and last night I told Dan that I wanted to take up smoking again. I’ve been smoke-free for about four months after an almost 15 year habit.

I haven’t cooked in several days. I’m barely working and I’ve been sleeping late each morning. I have barely gotten dressed, much preferring to wear a holey tee-shirt and dirty sweatpants. Today I even cancelled my EMDR appointment as I felt as if I had the flu this morning. No such luck. It’s just depression.

Last night the phone rang three times in a row and I almost had an anxiety attack. The thought of talking to people just freaked me out.

You know when after a fun but reckless night of drinking you wake up with a killer hangover and admit to your friends that you will never drink like this again?

Do you know that lonely yet resentful and aching feeling you have when you break up with someone you really cared for?

You know that I am worthless feeling when you don’t get the job that you truly believed you were meant for.

You know that feeling when you’ve got a winter bug and your body is aching, your nose is sniffling, your head is hot and you can’t keep down any food?

Remember when you made that huge mistake at the office and you feared getting caught or worse - you were caught and you’re just waiting for your boss give you a verbal lashing?

Remember when you had a stupid fight with your very best friend and it left you feeling guilty and embarrassed?

Remember when you were six and you woke up from a nightmare about a bloody monster and you were afraid that it was under your bed or in your closet.

Remember when you were afraid of the dark?

Well take every sorry, shameful, fearful, lame, twisted, reckless, heart-wrenching, vomit-inducing moment in your life, multiple it by about 25 and that’s how I feel when I’m at my very worst moments of grieving. I can barely life my head off of the pillow.

Sometimes I cry so hard I can not swallow. My chest gets tight and I can not breathe. In fact, I’m crying but I’m not making any sound.

I can’t blame anyone for making me feel this way but my mama. She did this to me—her first born, her pride and joy, her closest friend.

Chapter II, Part I

On my nightstand is a photo of my mother and father sitting on the couch with all of our pugs. I believe that it’s Christmas of 2004 and both my parents have that sleepy look in their eyes like they’ve been up all night wrapping gifts. I can’t help but comment on the smug look on my father’s face. It’s the look I’ve become accustomed to the last ten years. It makes me both laugh and cry.

My mother gained a pretty significant amount of weight (unusual for her) the last four years and didn’t feel much like posing for the camera. There are very few pictures of her in recent years, so my nightstand photo is particularly precious to me. I light a candle by the photo most evenings. I also give her kiss and say goodnight before I turn in. All of this has become necessary parts of my day. When I travel the photo comes along and finds a place by my bedside.

After a recent disturbing conversation with my sister where she informed of my father’s recent behaviors, I decided that I didn’t want that picture on my nightstand any longer. I hated his fucking smug face. It was about 11:00 a.m. and I tore through the house like a whirling dervish in search of a new picture of my lovely looking mother sans Smugface.

It was a bad night. Since I’ve become holder of the enormous family photo collection, I’ve spent countless hours carefully placing them in photo albums. There are boxes of photos in my office, on our kitchen table, on our bar. I was up and down the stairs. Lots of crying. Dan followed me, closing all of the windows because he knows the cries will turn into screams and at some point I may start talking to my dead mother very loudly. On top of it all, I’m already feeling the drowsy affects of the sleeping pill I downed right after I got off the phone. I’m very obviously hysterical at this moment and it’s very liberating.

I finally locate a picture - me and mom on my college graduation day in May 1999. My parents threw me a fabulous party where we all got tanked and ate tons of yummy Italian food. It was great fun. It’s also the last picture I have of us together and that was nearly eight years ago. I can’t even begin to explain how bad this makes me feel.

I stomp back upstairs to find a picture frame. All of my movements are disjointed as I place the photo into the sky blue frame. My head is pounding. I pop a vicodin. Dan brings me water and tissues. I am snotting on his shirt. He finally settles me down in our bed.

The next evening I notice the glass from the sky blue frame is cracked. I don’t recall this. I put the picture with Smugface back on my nightstand and light a candle. I miss him.

The Hot List

Must see movie: Half Nelson

Favorite new actor: Ryan Gosling

Kimmee's new title: Celebrities Editor

Favorite new show: Brothers & Sisters

Hottest cast in a TV show: Smith

Best drama going down in the tabloids: Anna Nicole Smith's Baby Daddy

Most tired celeb: Jennifer Anniston

Stacy called it: Kate Hudson & Owen Wilson

Best book read recently: Danni Shapiro's Family History

Dear Stacy

Happy Birthday Beautiful

Part V

Cont...


My food issues were indeed out of control. Still are, in fact. I classify these issues as restrictions, because I wasn’t allowing myself to feel good, my mother’s suicide wasn’t allowing me to function normally. One week was exclusively dedicated to Golden Oreos for lunch and dinner. Sometimes I would only eat salami. I recall going on a hotdog binge. And I wonder why I’ve gained 20 pounds since last the summer of 2005.

I would often find myself thinking about sitting in the kitchen with my mother. She danced ballroom in that kitchen, a cook to boot. I would attempt to conjure up images of her making the sausage stuffing at Thanksgiving and many other delectables I can not physically afford to write about at this time. I would make myself frustrated at the fact that I had spent countless hours with her in the kitchen and couldn’t take note of temperature, of mise en place.

I bathed, washed the face, brushed the teeth, waxed…but looking in the mirror was weird. I could say I didn’t recognize myself, but that’s just putting a cliché to something far weightier. What I saw in the mirror was a girl with too much soul, a girl of yesterday and today but never tomorrow. My face was never quite as clear as it should have been. It didn’t take to makeup, to lotion. It was so blurry that to even call it a mess would be lying. My vision was lost.

In the simplest terms, I felt heavy. Sometimes I’d lie awake at night unable to move body parts because they felt like anchors. There were moments when I thought my heart would drop from its natural location and settle at my knees. The absolute worst were the heavy eye problem. My lids would swell to five times their size and all I could see in the mirror was a black circle where my face should be. Those eyes made my head to wobble from side to side. All I could do was lie down for fear of breaking my neck.

Part IV

Cont...

In the past 11 months I’ve made a checklist. What are the common factors in those who commit suicide? Is it depression? Pressing financial matters? Severe or terminal health issues? Substance and alcohol abuse? Sure, it could be anyone of the above. If there is a list of ten possible reasons, I can probably choose fifty percent of those and relate them to my mother’s suicide. But who really cares at this point. She’s dead.

I don’t know at what stage of grieving paranoia sets in, but at some point I considered that my mother faked her own death. (Frankly she was never that clever.) I believed that perhaps this was a forced suicide. (This is not the Middle East.) Perhaps she was murdered? (The medical examiner ruled out homicide.)

This is not an episode of CSI. This is my life here. I know my mother, and I know she took the handgun that was purchased to protect my family against robbers and Charles Manson-types and decided she had enough. It was time to rest. It was her time.

Since she died, I have not had any rest. All she does is badger me: in my sleep, when I’m cooking dinner or watching Desperate Housewives. Frankly, she’s a big pain in the ass. I hear a song in the car like Joe Cocker’s You Are So Beautiful to Me, and I openly weep. For months I was taking up to three baths a day just so I could place some boundaries on my emoting. If I limited myself to one place, at least I wouldn’t feel like such a basket case. No such like. I’m so sick of this.

I found great comfort in water during the first six months after her death—obviously with all of those silly baths. Living in Ithaca, I obviously couldn’t swim during the cold months, but I had the sound of water flowing, of lapping from the various waterfalls that make this little city so alive. I suppose it quite Civilization and Its Discontents, but I’m not referring to any basis of religion here. I am referring to the oceanic feeling as the symbol of life, death and the unknown. I am referring to the idea of being unrestrained. When I’m near or in water, I can feel my skin move. I like my skin in the water. I like myself around water. I’m recognizable again.

So you understand better, this suicide has brought about so many restrictions for me. For a brief time last winter I was unable to drive. After a few missed stop signs, an ignored red light and tires that regularly shrieked, I surrendered my car keys. It felt good. I didn’t want to feel responsible for something else.

A few weeks after she died, I wore her sweaters every day—mostly three cardigans, one pink, grey and black. My father said that was not good. I think I told him to go fuck himself. I still wear those sweaters, but for much different reasons. Her smell no longer accompanies them.

Then there were those prized times when I felt socially awkward around my closest friends. To me, when I was with them, I felt as if there was always a pink elephant in the room. I felt nervous and overwhelmed. I had to fight the urge to run out the door and bury myself in a pile of snow. God, I hated me. The thing is I was so desperate for them. I wanted so badly to make them laugh and see their smiles. What I really wanted was for them to make me feel like me again. For so many years when any of us had a crisis, heartbreak, a “God please tell me I did that” moment, we could find a way to cheer each other up with a $10 bottle of wine, a dirty joke and some slanderous gossip about some waif Hollywood actress. None of the above would help in this situation. They—the heartiest, funniest, savviest creatures on the planet—couldn’t even help.

Part III

Cont...

She was also smart in ways I could never be. She had this organic sensibility that led her to always have the answer. I ran to her. I wrapped myself around her. As a child, I hesitated to believe in any other way but hers.

When she was sad and frightened, I was strong. Did I really have a choice? My brother needed clean socks. My sister had a birthday party to attend. The pugs needed a walking. The man delivering the oil needed to be paid. You see, the house doesn’t run by itself.

I’ve been mediator. I’ve been big sister. I’ve played mom. I’ve been eldest daughter and granddaughter. I’ve been career woman. I’ve been the child that puts her parent into a mental hospital. I’ve been lover and fighter. I’ve been devastated.

When a life is taken in such a way, a big mess is left in return. My father doesn’t even bear a close resemblance to the man that raised me. My brother must tell me he loves me even when I briefly leave the room. My sister, well, I could say she has tuned out, but that would be too easy. She feels fucked.

Even the pugs have felt loss. Right after my mom died the little one scratched the fur off her head leaving angry red patches. The fat one just sticks to herself these days. And the old one … she was my mother’s favorite … some six months later my sister came home from school to find her dead.

Grief often prevails.

The kids and I have tried to stick together, but it’s been impossible. I can’t be their mom though sometimes I would like to be. I would like to give them that because they deserve to have a mom. I think that I could do a better job than she. I mean anyone could, right? For Christ sake, she left her two teenage kids alone forever one dark fall night. They were just in their bedrooms watching television or IMing their friends as teens do. She made the choice to miss my brother’s first day of high school, to not send my sister off to her first day of senior year. She will miss the birth of my first child, something that is not currently in the mix, but something that I stay up at night crying over. She always promised me that she would watch her grandchild whenever I needed her to. I remember the day when she told me that I would be a great mom.

This is all the talk of grief-stricken girl.

The other night me and my best girlfriend estimated that I pay $1500 a month in medical fees; the vast majority of funds going to therapy. This suicide has cost me a bloody fortune. And all I do is talk about the same thing … her.

There are no doors to unlock, symbols to decode, mysteries to solve. Suicide is what it is. There is no universal cause. I can think of a million reasons why it became easier for her to shoot herself on October 26, 2005, but I can also think of a million reasons why she might have looked twice at the gun, closed her eyes and stepped away, never to feel that cold metal in her hands.

Part II

Cont ... Please read Part I - right below this post - to keep up.

I turned 30 last month, and my mother wasn’t the first person to call me. I said goodbye to my troubled 20’s, to the 29th year of my life that included the loss of my mother. I will never be able to explain my longing, my wish to be little again so that I could look up at her.

Nor will I ever be able to explain who my mother was.

We became friends at some point, confidants in a way that I really never thought possible. I listened to her talk about her difficulties raising my brother and sister and her fears about the ending of her marriage to our father because of his affairs. Sometimes, at very careful moments she would admit to me the mistakes she made as a parent, as a wife, as a lover. She would talk about her childhood of pennies and beatings, of drunks and hooligans. She was usually drunk at these times. Sometimes she would discuss her short marriage to my biological father, a man I knew very little about. I would ask her questions about the memories I had. I was only four or five when they separated.

In return, she understood my fear of marriage and my reluctance to commit to a man that was perfect for me. She understood my own melancholy. She knew I wasn’t a stranger to men or to vice in multiple sorts. She knew that I was my own worst enemy, that I could personally sabotage everything good in my life in one hot minute.

And sometimes she wouldn’t stop me. She’d let me learn a lesson. Other times, she’d call me out and I’d run off in a rage or cry out of embarrassment and foolishness.

Every day for nearly 29 years, my mother had been my world. And she will probably continue to be until I have children of my own. Until new life helps me let go of loss. Until love helps me to shed grief.

You see, no one I have ever met has ever had such a commanding presence as my mother. She could silence, criticize and maim me with a passing look. If she chose, she could also declare me a goddess. At moments I was a genius, the brightest child to ever exist. I was so hardworking, so articulate, to talented, so pretty that I could model, and style to boot! Gosh, she loved me.

That presence of hers, that force doesn’t allow me to say goodbye. From the grave she tells me to cry for her, to blame for her, to hate for her. I feel as if she will never let me get over her pain.

I am threadbare.

I remember her as parts, which is primarily how I feel, how I’ve always felt before and now after her suicide. That’s how I know that I am hers and she is mine.

Mama was mean and scary at times. I ran from her. I hid from her. As an adult, I told her she was draining me.

Today I Live, Chapter I, Part I

This is a story to be published in several parts. Keep checking in...

Part I

I never believed that I would write a book.

Though I consider myself a writer of sorts--and I actually do make money toiling away at my computer putting together words for Web sites, press releases, advertisements and brochures …the only subject matters I ever considered were those of my clients.

In fact, much of the time I hate writing. It forces me to retreat, to move inward, to find hours of comfort in a faux leather desk chair and a $100 desk from Target that is much too small for all of my necessary clutter.

But when my mother committed suicide last fall, I had no words and I had all of them. Sentences flew around my head. My heart spoke. But my lips were zipped. It’s been that way ever since.

And while I tossed and turned at night, at day, my words were neither comforting nor distressing. They just were. All this truth came out in one horrific episode of my life. My mother committing suicide.

My mama was beautiful. I don’t think there is ever a moment in my life when I looked at her and wasn’t startled by her looks. Even when she was drinking or loaded on Vicodin, she was still striking. When she lay in her casket, with the outfit I painstakingly chose, I thought, “I hope my little girl looks like you Mama.”

But I hope she never has her pain.

We could certainly get each other going. So much laughter. Too much yelling. But we loved. My mother and I loved so much. The little things like fresh flowers and a bright day for sunbathing. A few hours at TJ Maxx and some shoe shopping made us giddy. We would hit tag sales and buy junk that we always believed was absolutely necessary. We would gossip about celebrities. We would drink cheap Pinot Grigio and munch on cake, chips and Chinese food—in no particular order. We would rent movies and she would always fall asleep. I’d shake her, telling her to get into bed.

When I was in college, I wouldn’t speak to my mother for long periods of time. Weeks turned into months and one of us would finally give in. She was mad. I was mad. Today, I can’t even think of the reasons why. I had committed my college days to pot, tequila and whatever boyfriend was warming my bed. Schoolwork was secondary. My internship and part-time job were tertiary. And I suppose that my family rounded out the top five.

I wasn’t top of my mother’s priority list either. She was raising my brother who was seventeen years younger than me … and my sister was just short of thirteen years younger. I felt like a fly buzzing around when I came home for extended weekends and breaks. It wasn’t that I was invisible. I was too visible. I think now that I really missed being her kid.

I Luv TV

I love the new TV season, and I've carefully selected those new programs that will provide with endless hours of disassociating. here's a bit of what will be on my tivo.

old favorites:
Lost (frankly i can't remember what happened at the end of last season. all i know is that i would like Boon to come back)
Law & Order SVU (Benson & Stabler will they get naked)
ER ( i think i missed the season finale)
Nip/Tuck (hooray - it's an early starter)
The O.C. (what will happen w/o Marissa? who will Ryan fight for)
Grey's Anatomy (it's just the best.)
Desperate Housewives (i can't remember what happend last season. all i know is that Teri Hatcher is a cow...and why is Inside the Actor's Studio having her on. do they not have anyone else? i wonder if she's going to do her stripper exercise.)
Gilmore Girls (Lorelei is a bit annoying but i like her. unfortunately i don't have the CW)

new shows:
Studio 360 (just finished watching it. i think i like it.)
Brothers & Sisters (Calista comes outta retirement? Ally McBeal seems like a million years ago.)
Smith (Looks like a great cast. It's weird because I've never committed to a show on CBS)
Heroes (i believe it's the same creators as Lost)
Six Degrees (great cast but i don't like Erika Christensen with that color blonde hair)

also in the rotation on my tivo:
Family Guy
Laguna Beach
Footballer's Wives (syndication)
Footballer's Wives: Overtime
Best Week Ever
The Office (Because OK I'll admit. I'm in love with Steve Carell. I've never watched this show before, but people tell me I would really like it.)
CSI original (syndication)
X-Files (syndication)
Wifeswap
Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations

SO it appears I won't leave the house anytime this month with the amount of television I watch. Actually, I'm attempted to leave the house everyday - even if it's for a short period of time as that's what my therapist wants me to do. So the good girl that i am, I enrolled myself in a dance class. I start a Latin dance class on Thursday.

Signing off.

WTF

-La Lohan's firecrotch. Someone needs to purchase this bitch some Hanes Her Way.

-The death of Anna Nicole Smith's son. This is seriously depressing me. What happened?

-Suri Cruise' 22 page spread in Vanity Fair. Where the fuck is my magazine; I've been running to the mailbox everyday.

-My very own hypocrasy. I say we should support our local proprietors, and I really do try to. I swore I wouldn't go to the knew Starbucks...but then a had a gift card...then i went back the next day and the next...

-Therapy three times this week. Gosh I'm fucked in the head.

-

The Unveiling.

By God...Now we know why TomKat waited so long...This baby is Asian.

Raves, Rants and What the Fucks

please go see Little Miss Sunshine. i haven't laughed that hard in a while. brilliant cast.

what the fuck is up with this WB/UPNm erger? so we never got UPN here, but oddly the WB here at local NYC news- which i loved. now, i don't have shit and I'm pissed. how am i going to watch the Gilmore Girls?

does anyone use pandora? i started fiddling with it last winter. it was intriguing for a hot minute, but i'm just so attached to my yahoo launch cast. anyway, there was a nice big piece on pandora in the Times recently so i figured i would revisit. i like the idea that real musicians are selecting music for me that match my tastes. i don't know about pandora tho...it gives me more bad choices than good. i can't explain it, but i clicked a "thumbs up" for a janet jackson song and just
busted out with every single r&B trio ever created in the 1990s for like the next 20 songs.

diets...me and danny ...@#$%%^^^$###^&&

big shout out to kimmee and annie for introducing me to kava kava. i think it's chilling me out at night. nice...

helent hunt - why do people give her acting jobs? she is like the queen of bland. i think if she ever made a movie with kevin costner i would just boycott going to the movies.

csi las vegas - ok i'm officially addicted.

the premiere of nip/tuck tonight - hallelujah...now to find the fucking channel.

i got me a new red handbag (danny - thanks!) and some new red flats (so cute - thanks grandma!). i have been searching for the perfect red handbag for two years. i practically had to tackle a woman at the store who had it in her hands. she was trying to decide between red and black. so i waited while she modeled it in front of the mirror for like a million minutes. she walked around the store...but she finally put it down and i snatched it.

anyone purchased dylan's new album and wants to burn it for me? (i don't have a music budget this month and September is a slow month for me.)

so i revisited the movie Crash yesterday. james spader is so god damn sexy in that movie. i just love him. (uh. photo editor get to work.)

i feel like having a cigarette tonight.

psyched cause my friend elizabeth is coming to ithaca this weekend. hooray!

signing off.

Take It To Bed

Annie Goes to Ithaca Turns 1
Staying strong

 

Annie at 30

Thanks for all of the wonderful gifts, cards and emails. My 30th birthday was a great day...much better than I expected. Shopping, pedicure, great dinner, a hit for a client on a major Web site, nice bottle of wine, carrot cake, catching up with friends.

Cliff and the kids failed to remember ... no calls, no cards, nada.

Peter bought six hours of On Demand porn and ordered Howard Stern on Demand (a recurring fee) while he was here. We just got the cable bill this weekend. Dan freaked. I had this discussion with Peter...about watching porn, about buying movies without asking, about taking advantage of me. All of the extra money I made this summer was spent on showing this kid a good time and giving him a good summer. Now I'm just feel disrespected. He admitted to what he did. Apologized. Dan said I was too nice.

Stacy - the irises have bloomed beautifully.

Thursday the one year anniversary of Annie Goes to Ithaca. Think it might be time for another hot list.

If Home is Where the Heart is...

with dan home, i've been sleeping great...though i do wish we had a bigger bed.

i ate my first tomatoes and cucumber from the garden yesterday. delish.

so i said goodbye to my family's second house this weekend. they are moving tomorrow (just found that out this weekend). it was bad, bad, bad, and i'm seriously afraid. pulling into the driveway on saturday i saw the dumpster my father rented. thought it's essential to purge, and considering my mother was a hoard-er, it was still incredibly difficult to see so much of the stuff we lived with in the trash--particulary stuff that could have easily been sold at a tag sale. i know peter has had a really difficult time with it.

so i rummaged through the dumpster to find my baby book and tons of pictures from our summers in New Hampshire. of course, most of the pictures that were thrown away were of me. oh well, i'm not a big fan of him either.

dan and i couldnt' find a van or truck to rent for this past weekend - with college moving weekend and all -- so that means we have to go to kathy the loser's house to pick up the remaining furniture. she will die of lung cancer...with all of those marlboro red 100's she smokes. (yes, i'm a very angry person.)

i've been cleaning house here at 10 fairview square - books, clothes, duplicate kitchen goods. with the new batch of furniture coming in and a 4 box collection of family photos coming in - dan and i are out of room. the place is looking pretty good.

preparing for the grandma and cousin Ally visit on Thursday. nervous about that to.

Signing off.

A Few Updates

i have a lot to say about disney and the literal crash course on culture. this is going to seem like a rather biggoted blog, but I think we all know my sense of humor by now.

at disney hispanics rule as do the gays- sp. homos without kids. there were also a decent amount of brits whose moms are quite fashionable and their children are well-behaved. i'll be honest, i found my brethren to be quite rude, children unruly, and for the most part lacking in etiquette - this is in exception to the Texas Mexicans who are quite polite. The Americans simply stuff their kids with food and toys. The Wasps specifically like to match entire family in Ralph Lauren. American moms seem to be getting older - we're talking 50-year-olds with 10-year-olds. And though they are getting older they are dressing younger. I don't know about you, but I don't want to see a 35+ mom with a belly baring shirt and navel adorned with jewels.

it appears everyone wears a fanny pack, no one carries a handbag and strollers come before human feet.

am i complaining.? only about the hispanics. otherwise it was a nice little trip.

i did have something else to say, but i'm forgetting. signing off for now.

oh - does anyone listen to the Killers? - are they really slated to get out of their alterno-rock label and be the next big arena rock group or is rock simply dead and they are the closest to decent music? I mean several people told me to buy their last CD, but all I kept thinking about was that redick song, "Somebody told me that you had a girlfriend that looked like a boyfriend (or is it vice versa?)..."

also anyone listen to cat powers? i've been listening for months. some songs i love - some i absolutley despise.

Disney Bound

no electronics on the plane$%^&*!

Fuck A Mother Fucking Duck

BAD MOOD TODAY.

Refused to continue work on an account this week. Decisive I am. She hated my writing. I hated her screechy voice, her ignorance and her complete lack of understanding of the communications business coupled with her inability to take professional advice. Glad she's gone and hope that she can't afford her office rent come September. hehe

So I shopped. 3 funky tees. 2 pair of pants gaucho pants. 1 big ass sterling ring. 1 pair of big ass brown glasses sunglasses. 3 candles. Ahhhhhh...

I bitched. To my favorite gals Space and Em.

I munched. A bunch of Golden Oreo cookies and milk.

I cleaned. My office, which was fiiiillllthy.

And now I'm going back to cleaning and then I'm packing, because I'm blowing this town on Friday and I can't wait. I'll finally get to have some sex this weekend too.

Can you tell just a little I'm PMSing.

blood clot.

Signing off.

Anyway

-I relapsed on Friday night and smoked three cigarettes. I'm still not ever going to be a smoker again though.

-Felt entirely overwhelmed and restless on Friday night so drank lots of white wine and with Ipod in bakc pocket, pretended I was a contestant on So You Think You Can Dance.

-Found the pictures from when I was little as well as thousands of others - packed them all and brought them home with me. Stay tuned...

-Danced and had a wonderful time at Joey and Cezanne's wedding on Sunday.

-Slept peacefully with Danny boy.

-Hugged and kissed my father.

-BBQ'd, feasted and had a fantastic time with the kids, Danny, Andrew and my aunt and uncle on Saturday. So good to see them. The laughter, the memories. My aunt saying how much I reminded her of mom.

-Made my sister laugh and laugh. Love to do that.

-Danny made me laugh and laugh. Convo: "Annie, I'm probably going to see Michelle and Anthony's baby on Tuesday before coming back to Ithaca." "Ok Dan, please bring a gift. You can not go empty-handed. I need to be with you to buy clothes since I have to determine the sizing for the baby." "For Christ sakes Annie - it's a little baby - it wears a size small." QUIET. QUIET, THINKING. THINKING. LOL LOL. "Dan - you're an idiot. That's not how baby clothes work."

-Burgers at The Blazer with Pete.

-Got totally decked for the wedding - everyone loved my dress.

-Danny and I had our fifth anniversary yesterday. We couldn't spend it together, but at least we woke up with each other.

-Realizing that I can't prevent the move, but I can help to make the transition easier for the kids.

-Finally dissing Carrie Fisher's book The Best Awful, with the same Suzanne Vale character from Postcards from the Edge. The book sucked - at 40 pages in with more than 4 weeks under my belt I needed to just give up.

-Found a Currier & Ives book from the 50's in my father's bookcase when we were cleaning. Absolutely spectacular. He let me have it.

-Said a heartfelt goodbye to Petey. I found a black feather from his bow & arrow set on the floor of the garbage area outside this morning. I do miss my boy.

-Reclaimed my DVR last night. The end of The Hills was cut off...argh...Footballer's Wives - the fucking bomb. Can't believe that idiot Lauren declined Paris to live with her ugly and disturbed BF.

-Reclaimed by bathroom last night. Scrubbed that toilet bowl and bathtub.

-Friday night got to speak to a friend named G who has been in bootcamp for 5 months. Most importantly, got to finally hear some happiness in his wife's voice.

-Remembered how much I truly love Danny. Realized that I would have never been able to get through the last 9 months without him.

-Slept beautifully last night. My bed felt wonderful.

Tonight - dinner with Emily at Maxi's. Emily has been my savior this summer. She's a happy girl, a good friend. Sometimes things go right in this world.

Hot List

because he was in Office Space - killer fucking movie
and because he broke up with Carrie on a post-it...
Ron Livingston.

(been trying to post this for days)

The Slow and The Curious

So Peter and Andrew (amy's bf) are making a movie that Pete says is a cross between The Fast and The Furious and The WeatherMan (both wonderful flicks). Pete also mentions that he's yet to see either film. I won't ask anymore questions, as it's Pete. However, I think it's a good idea that any 14 year old boy see a movie about fast cars, fast woman and Vin Diesel. Pete decides to tell me that his movie is called The Slow and The Curious. It's just brilliant.

I am very angry today. I feel like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman..."I am very angry with my father." Basically it's a combination of PMS, this fucking heat and the ineptitude of a few people both personally and professionally associated. Basically, I'm PMSing hard this week.

I worry about my sister. She never seems to stay out of trouble. Frankly, I'm just so tired of talking.

Signing off for now.

We tried, but we cried cause we knew it was over.

Friday was an evil night.

Emily invited me to her friend's house for some gumbo. We picked up some wine and headed out for the evening. Feasted on gumbo and french bread with three Cornell sophmore girls - very cute, very young. Em and I hit the Chapter House for a quick beer and then back to her house to watch some TV on the projector and drink some more Pinot Grigio. In between I went home to check on Pete, walk Moo and listen to my messages. Big mistake. My favorite father left me a scathing message saying that I was messing with Peter's head, that I was doing more harm than good, that I was telling Peter too much, that I was BAD BAD BAD. He also said that I had to bring Peter home immediately.

Upon hearing this message I thought I would explode. I was MAD MAD MAD. So I called back - told him he had nerve, told him to never leave a message like that, told him that i don't manipulate Pete that I treat him with respect and honesty, told him that I would not bring Pete home that I'm not some yo-yo - that he could get into his own car and drive to ithaca to pick up his son. I told cliff not to call me anymore, i had no interest in speaking to him. he agreed. told him that pete is terribly upset about this move. told him that amy is terribly upset about this move and that his kids don't trust or respect him. he said to me that he thought i had his back - he thought he had my trust. I asked," since when?" i think about my conversations with him- blatantly told him Kathy is BAD BAD BAD. blatantly told him moving was BAD BAD BAD. mentioned on more than one occasion that his actions contributed to my mother's DEMISE. told him i lost RESPECT. told him he had PROBLEMS. told him that i didn't agree with the way he was RAISING the KIDS.

I cried until I was puffy. Pete cried and screamed how much he hated his father. Pete said, "He didn't respect my mother after she died. I hate him." We held each other and cried deep angry tears.

Y'see, I was mad at Pete too. The kids have no choice but to play both sides of the fence. They may trust, respect and love me, but they have to live with him.

I needed to get out of the house. I went back to Emily's. We talked and talked. She helped. We drank wine.

Eventually I went back home and just couldn't sleep. I watched by tivo'd shows, pulled out the Sambuca and had two nightcaps. i scraped the fridge for comfort food. i ran my dirty fork up and down my thigh - i needed to feel something physical. spoke to amy. a few hours later, I went up to my bedroom and swallowed two sleeping pills and a melatonin. i sat with the bottle in hand wondering how many days i could sleep if I took the rest of the Lunesta. there were only seven pills. surely that couldn't hurt? for christ sake i've been taking this pill every night for nine months straight. i had to have build up some tolerance. I just wanted a really good sleep. I just want to fall asleep with ease, sleep thru the night with ease and wake up with ease. I wasn't in good shape.

I tossed a glass of water at the picture of my mom and dad and the five pugs that i keep by my bedside. I cursed my mother; blamed her; hated her. i travel with that picture everywhere. i quickly took the photo from its frame and dried off the water, cleaned up the floor. CRIED CRIED CRIED. sorry Mommy.

slept.

but before slumber i filed all of my long nails down.

woke up at 9am with a scratch on my eyelid and my eyes swollen shut. wasn't pretty. woke pete. told him that despite how shitty we felt we had to make the best of his last weekend here. we had to enjoy our life. it would start with breakfast at state street. omelettes always a great way to start off a saturday. see - doesn't take too much to make me happy.

we tried. farmer's market, swimming, movies, icecream, shopping, eating out, preparing dinner together, artist's fair...we tried.

I knew Pete was still in a lot of pain, because I certainly was. I have to finally admit that both of my parents were gone. I know that I am depressed. It started three weeks ago. you see lately i don't take any pleasure in doing the things that i normally love. my sleeping habits are straight up wacked. i actually missed my therapy appointment on friday - straight up didn't show. i feel sick - a lot. weary.

today i woke up with a clogged ear - could not hear a blessed thing. had to suck it up and call up the doctor that i wasn't very nice to because he sent me a bill for not cancelling an appointment that i didn't show up for because it was the day my mother died. after explaining my unfortunate circumstance they agreed to waive the fee, but i received another bill a short while later. I threw a fit.

But they did see me this morning and things are better.

i found a strapless bra this morning too for my dress for next weekend's wedding. very difficult given my size.

i'm tired now. Signing off.

Hot List

Though Jeremy Piven, Turtle and Kevin Dillon really make Entourage great, we've got to give props to this piece of ass.

Blogger has been fucking with me all week.

Pete and I saw You, Me and Dupree...a 2 star movie. It's been years since i've seen a movie with Matt Dillon...he and his brother have the same voice, inflection...it's weird.

Las night we had the best time - Emily played hookie from her Kaplan course and we went to Joe's for a fabo meal and a nice carafe of Pinot Grigio. The three of us went to Stewart Park to skip rocks, sit on the swings and wander around like little kids - it was great. We came back home and watched So you think you can dance. Allison was dumped - what an injustice. I swear we were almost in tears.

Dan and I going to Disney the weekend of August 11. Pretty excited to get out of town.
Signing off.

P.S. Dan got a job offer!!!

Weekend Stuff

It's time to start marketing again. The glory days of late winter, spring and early summer have ended and my bread & butter account will be done by the end of august. In fact, work has slowed down significantly already because the client has just forgotten about us. Sucks because I was depending on that money for August. I'm a little nervous, but at this time in my life I'm used to picking myself off of the ground.

Anyway, Friday night me, Peter and Emily went to see Clerks II. Fantasic. Great fun. Here here to the return of Kevin Smith. Jason Lee and Ben Affleck have cameos. Rosario Dawson is really stunning. Just remembering of her starring role in Kids when she talks about anal sex. Ouch. Anyway, she's really good at keeping a straight face when talking about really raunchy things.

Saturday was a pretty chill day. Pete and I went out for yet another Chappelle DVD and some arts & crafts supplies. He seems to like to piant boxes too. We joined Emily for dinner at Mi Casita - a Creole and Costa Rican eatery with fabulous ambience. I had rum cake for desert and it was unbelievable. We hit Cornell's bowling alley for a few games - Emily kicked our asses each time. Pete and I hit the couch for Cheaper by the Dozen II. He got mad at me for making fun of him so he scampered off to bed and I chatted with danny boy for a few over a nightcap of Sambuca.

Yesterday we went to the beach and made Rice Krispy treats. They are gone today.

Signing off.

Foreboding

I will talk about this next week.

Sleepy Sleepy

So tired these past two weeks. Maybe it's all catching up to me and I just needed to slow down. Fortunately, the work front has been calm, which allows me to take up to two naps a day. (Y'see told you things aren't right.) Today I feel OK, maybe it's because I easily convinced Pete to play hookey from tennis and sleep in with me. I really couldn't do it this morning. So by 7:45 I was at my desk writing a rather nice pitch on a rather extraordinary family. I can't divulge details yet, but a client is shopping around a book.

I'm hoping to see Clerks II this weekend and drink beer tonight with Emily. If the weather allows, Pete and I will catch rays and swim. Amy can't come this weekend - not a surprise, but I was looking forward to her silliness - our silliness together...being with and caring for my little bro and sis.

I'll leave you with this picture today - March 1975. Some 15 months later she would have me, her first child at 19.

Gripes About 'Thaca

-slow, dimwitted drivers
-slow waitstaff - it takes forever to get your check - and then god forbid you pay by credit card!
-construction downtown and on campus this entire summer
-so many bicycle riders
-people with babies just about everywhere - i suppose this isn't so bad - but it's weird to see so many people with kids and so many women pregnant. I think the Ithacans like to have a lot of sex.
-the ithacans go swimming late. maybe it's just the fact that I left for jones and moses beach at the crack of dawn to beat the nasty l.i.e. traffic that i believe it's the right thing to get to the beach by 9am. however, in Thaca I generally don't see people at the pool until about 2pm. Buttermilk doesn't even open for swim until 11am. Do you know how many things I've done this morning?
-nobody smokes. not even outside of the bars. ok an occasional few like me and chris when he visits. (1 month down baby)
-the hippy stuff is expensive. these cats charge an arm and a leg for soap, lotion, shampoo, plants, flowers (except the awesome flower lady at the farmer's market), baked goods, veggies, hand-crafted, whitttled and crocheted whatever

Pete has tennis lessons at 8:00 am each morning at Cass Park, so I've been walking the Cayuga Waterfront Trail. Yesterday I had Baby with me, but he looked like he was about to die from the heat, so I left him home today. It's nice to be out early watching the kayakers and canoe-ers (sp?), listening to bloc party, van morrison, willie nelson, jimmy buffet. good times with myself.

Pete and I have gotten into a nice groove. He's a good kid. He's been helpful in the kitchen, around the house, emotionally. He breaks my heart. His father simply doesn't call enough, and the scary thing is that I don't think Pete cares. Each day the only people he asks if he could call are Amy and Andrew.

P.S. I really liked Sin City (sorry Kimmee) thought it was just fantastic. Robert Rodriguez here here.

P.P.S. I think my sis is coming to visit this weekend!

100 Degrees Today and All That

dan and i got massages on saturday morning and then followed up with brunch at the Carriage House, this absolutely adorable little place across the street from my favorite bar the Chapter House. I had almond french toast. dan has french toast stuffed with brie.

no one wanted to do anything during the afternoon, tho we had plans to check out the dragonboat race downtown. dan and I layed in bed most of the afternoon reading, talking and watching the golden girls.

that night we hit half-priced shuck and jive at Maxi's and introduced Peter to raw oysters. we ended the night with the 40-year-old Virgin, which we all love.

Peter started tennis lessons this morning at 8am. He's in great spirits, but I feel like shit. This lack of sleep is truly catching up to me. I've been up since 6:30 trying to get it together, but I still feel as if I drank a bottle of vodka last night...for the record, I haven't had any vodka since shannon was visiting. ;-)

I do have more to say, but need to get some flow on the work front, so I'll get into some more later. I'll touch upon this stuff later:

• Cliff saying he's moving the kids into Kathy's house in August
• My five year anniversary with Dan
• The fact that stores are starting to stock their shelves with back-to-school and fall stuff
• Peter
• The fact that I've been to the grocery story 4 times in 8 days'
• Sin City and Postcards from the Edge
• My lack of television watching

For MER

Happy (Belated) Birthday My Dear Friend.

Hope it was fabulous.

XOXOXOXO

P.S. hope the family is good.

Gripes

cancelling aol

cancelling rhapsody superpass

humidity

zits - (broken out right now in a bad way right now)

the post office - thinking about it usually pisses me off - just don't understand why i hate the place to much

lack of airconditioning downstairs - because the windows are so frigging big

kathy - my father's ugly, insipid, selfish and genuine piece of shit girlfriend

my father - a deeply lost, socially dysfunctional, hurtful bastard

my mother - for leaving my adopted brother without a mother...for the second time in his life

me - for not being able to let all of this go and for allowing someone I don't even know (kathy) to fill me with so much grief, anxiety and hatred

my hair - i would like to chop it off, but dan says no way

Ramblings

Drivers with Ipods are more dangerous than cell phone users and drunks. I'm convinced of this.
The first half of the ever-irrating trip to W.C. was a literal zig zag across Rt 17 as I played with my Ipod.

Some songs that are so spectacular they give me the chills -

• Jeff Buckley's - Hallelujah
• U2 - Where the Streets Have No Name
• Gary Jules - Mad World
• Concrete Blonde - Everybody Knows
• Damien Rice - The Blower's Daughter
• Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run
• Elvis Costell0 - She

My level of exhaustion is becoming apparent. Bags under the eyes. Yesterday I tried to put the watermelon I was chopping into the skillet where I had steaks cooking. Before my hand dropped the bits of melon, I came to.

Still no smoking - 3 weeks, 2 days.

Peter seems to be enjoying camp. When I picked him up yesterday, he looked as if he rolled out the woods - absolutely filthy.

Finally managed to get an eyebrow wax and a pedicure yesterday. I was in rough shape. Next, hopefully I can find time to hit the postal to mail out a few gifts I have for people.

Did see the Devel Wears Prada - pretty good tho entirely different from the book - also Pirates of the Carribean, which I enjoyed.

New restaurants - Ithaca Ale House - lots of delish beers on top, but food not too great. Probably won't go back.

Any new hobbies / activities - currently just the usual - painting, reading (a not very good Mary Higgins Clark book, finished The Devil Wears Prada) , watching film, tending to my plants and garden, going swimming in various wateringholes and waterfalls on the weekends. I am trying to pay more attention to my neglected music collection though.

Peter is getting me into The Chappelle Show. I've tivo'd Footballer's Wives per AZ's suggestion and also Coupling, which I've been fond of. Unfortunatley, I just haven't had time to watch - been working around the clock.

Signing off for now.

OK Got A Lot to Say

but have to wait until next week. I'm in PowerPoint and video hell right now prepping a client for their annual presentation next week.

on Sunday it will be 3 weeks since i've had a smoke. watch out.

picking up Pete tomorrow night.

signing off.

p.s. any takers on the new Dashboard Confessionals album? downloaded it on a whim from Rhapsody and i'm digging on it.

p.p.s. dan bought me an Ipod this weekend. he's the fucking bomb.

Poor Poor Britney

I think Britney really needs to hire a new PR and management team. Do we all concur here? I mean the Matt Lauer interview was Britney on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown...She was in full trailer park glory. And this - a la Demi. No one can do it better than Demi...and certainly not this Louisiana Sugar Pie. What's worse is that her team is trying to trick us with the black hair into thinking she's smarter, less emotional, more grown up than she actually is. Pobrecita. Signing off.

More on Star Jones

so it's been 10 days since I quit smoking, the most preventable cause of death. there isn't anything that i won't shove in my mouth at this point, so i must be careful.

today i have an obnoxious headache and people are annoying me. i would like to turn off my phones.

have you read the news about star jones? click on title of the post. and does anyone know what Rosie O'Donnell's been saying about star. sheez. she's certainly not one to throw stones. this is a good bitch fest, and i'm eager to see how it plays out.

signing off.

Some Updates

I've quit smoking. It's been seven days. The urge to eat hits me at about midnight - of course, I also haven't had a good night's sleep in seven days.

That quick trip to San Diego last week also completely fucked me up. The amount of travel I did in 48 hours was redick.

So I am not thinking clearly, and I'm working at a snail's pace. I have several deadlines that are like hundred pound weights on my shoulders. I can't seem to process my thoughts fast enough, talk fast enough, type fast enough...

On a good note, Danny was up this weekend and we had a wonderful time. He arrived on at about 1:30 am Saturday morning. We hit Taughonack that day for some sun and swimming. After a few hours of sun, we went to Purity for some icecream. We came home and napped with The Boys in bed. Finally, at about 9pm we made it out to dinner at Maxi's for some raw oysters and a fried oyster po'boy with cajun fries. I just love that place.

I watched Capote this weekend. Philip Seymour Hoffman actually has an incredible profile. He was brilliant, but the characters spoke in such low tones I felt like I was straining to hear for the two hours. We got into bed with Good Night, and Good Luck on Saturday, but I fell asleep, woke up at the end and was up for the next few hours watching Three's Company downstairs. Also gorged on some Strawberry Rhubarb pie.

Last night I popped in a film by Don Roos (Bounce, The opposite of Sex) called Happy Endings with my favorite indie girl Maggie Gyllenhall (sp?). Overall, I just didn't like the film...partially because the characters were so miserable. Y'know Lisa Kudrow is really not a bad actress, but she picks the worst roles. All of her characters are either annoying or plain dysfunctional.

That's it for now...Signing off.

P.S. Amy got a job as a camp counselor! She started this morning.

Too Legit To Quit

Suddenly the song Too Legit just came into my head.

What's wrong with me?

So last night Emily and I hit Olivia's for burgers...with a slice of bacon, melted gorgonzola and a side of herbed french fries. I also celebrated (with an Ithacacosmopolitan) putting to bed a 40+ page year in review that I've been working on for 3 months. I also finished the copy on a real estate Web site. The cosmo was too strong and it made my ears pop.

After our lovely and fattening meal, we hit the bakery at Wegman's for some dessert. Emily needs to eat something sweet after dinner. Much of the time I do too. As we indulged in our comfort food, Emily introduced me So You Think You Can Dance. I'm officially hooked. That female judge they had last night (i believe the judges alternate) is botoxed to high heaven, and any time she opened her mouth the hairs on my arms stood up.

So I've decided that I miss Dan terribly. His first assignment is in a town in NJ, which means he's commuting 2 hours each morning from downtown. It sucks. By the time he gets home, he's thoroughly exhausted.

We're supposed to have a hot weekend, and I've got plans to meet some of Dan's family in Owego on Saturday for the Strawberry Festival.

Today I need to make a large dent in the copy of medical Web site I'm working on; so I need to focus now. No more dilly-dallying this morning. Signing off.

Perez on Britney

Click on title of post. Finally, someone called a spade a spade. Britney was hoooottt for a while, but lately I mean she's looking straight outta the trailer park.

Also, can Mariah Carey get a new stylist. Puh-leeze...

Bring It

OK - we're in need of some hotties. It's been too long.

Give it up for this sexy beast who first caught my eye in Never Been Kissed.

He may have married J-Lo in Monster-in-Law, but that's ok. (I'm actually a fan of this flick.)

We do think Jennifer Garner is a little manly, but I guess that's ok too.











There is no better time than now during the 2006 FIFA World Clup to bring up this sultry soccer player.

There have been reports that he's dumber than a stump, but who cares. I mean c'mon, does it really matter?

Yeah, OK Denise

click on title of post for complete story on Denise Richards talking Heather and Richie

This and That

My regular Saturday morning phone call with my Aunt Dorothy ended with her telling me to take it easy and not try to do too much. Saturdays have become some sort of competition with myself - how much can I pack in to completely exhaust myself. You see the weekends are prime thinking time. I can think myself into a frenzy - and this I do not want. The cycle is as follows: frenzy/panic, slow tears, uncontrollable tears, hysteria, and finally a restlessness that is frightening.

So what do I do on weekends - just about everything. This Saturday I cleaned the house, did several loads of laundry including washing my bedroom drapery, cleaned the fish tank - which resulted in the loss of the beautiful Fishilla Presley, organized my closet and tossed a bunch of stuff, cleaned out my underwear drawer, organized my pajama drawer, shopped for a suit and was somewhat successful (also bought a pair of shoes), went tanning, went to Target for household items, hit the Farmer's Market for flowers and a fine lunch of samosas with tomato chutney (at this point I took a breather to eat in peace by Lake Cayuga), arranged the flowers in several vases throughout my house, tackled the Wine Warehouse for a few bottles of Pinot Noir and that cheap wine they have that's good for cooking, walked the dogs the usual three times, ran and emptied the dishwasher, watered the indoor and outdoor plants (many plants as I'm plant sitting for Matt and Elizabeth), watched most of the movie Gloria with Sharon Stone (horrendous movie, equally terrible acting), took a shower and a bath (thanks Kimmee for the new bath goods), ON DEMAND-ed the flick The Squid and the Whale (excellent, eccentric, fine acting by the naturally beautiful Laura Linney and the endearingly odd Jeff Daniels), spoke to Dan several times, spoke to his brother Robby, finished the book Any Place I Hang My Hat, started the book Kitchen Confidential, drank a bottle of wine, cooked spinach parpadelle pasta with a garlic/wine mushroom sauce, oh - made a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, chopped half a watermelon, two canteloupes and some strawberries for a fruit salad, folded laundry, read In Style, wrote a bit in my therapy journal, got in bed with the rest of Season 2/ Disk four of 24, and when that finished I popped in Season (?) last disk of Nip/Tuck.

I got to relax when I was in the tanning bed, but I had trouble getting out of the it. My back was so tired, I had to sorta roll out.

Sunday started early. Talked to Dan about 3 times before 11:30, hit the dollar store for some small candles, an icepack and an icetea pitcher, a few composition books and some outdoor plant stands, went back to Target to buy this rug I had been eyeing, went tanning, hung bedroom drapery, cleaned the glass that broke from my butterfly box, caught up on my newspapers, finished folding and putting away the laundry, spoke to Peter, Grandma, Amy and Dan's aunt Sheryl, went to Borders cafe to get a piece of carrot cake, but it was under construction, went walking with Baby at this other waterfall near the Falls Creek Theatre, got a burrito from Taco Bell, walked the dogs several times as they never wanted to pee during their normal time, painted two keepsake boxes, finished watching Gloria as I was reading, did the In Style cross word puzzle, drank more wine, (hypocrasy at it's finest here) actually went to Wal-Mart to see if I could find a cheaper carpet than the one at Target, but to no avail, wound up buying a wire-framed file holder, caught up on the back episodes of ER - fuckin a didn't record the season finale (any takers - please call and give me the skinny), caught up on The Hills (that Heidi girl is DUUUUUUMB), finished watching Mr and Mrs Smith that I started watching with Emily on Friday night (making its rounds on Cinemax - truly bad movie), edited some of Emily's essays for medical school, cried a bit, got into bed with the rest of Nip/Tuck followed by Girl Interrupted - passed out at some point.

Friday night Emily and I did happy hour followed by dinner and mojitos at Maxi's - just love that place - and wine and a movie at her place. Thursday night we hit half-price rolls at Little Tokyo and ended with sundaes at Purity - delish.

Today I am bored and want to crawl back into bed. I have so much work to do and am dragging my feet. Signing off...

Seriously

It irks the shit out of me that Amy continues to have to find the dead in her home. This poor kid has been through so much. Enough already. Sadness doesn't completely describe what I feel. I feel something more of a soul crushing; it's a non-physical pain that blackens my body from head to toes. And, yes, I am pissed as hell.

Check It

it's funny how some mornings i simply can't find the SNOOZE button on my alarm clock. i've had the same alarm for about nine years, but i can slap around the top of it, and still neglect to feel the distinct edges of the comforting button.

i'm always restless in the summer. can't decide if i want to watch tv, go to bed, read, eat, drink wine, walk, take a bath, watch a movie...nothing seems satisfying or fulfilling.

now is a good time to talk about Anthony Bourdain, the executive chef at French eatery Les Halles in NYC, non-fiction and fiction author, and host of his self-titled show Anthony Bourdain. No Reservations on the Travel Channel. This program is absolutely phenomenal. It chronicles Bourdain's travels to various locations both domestic and international with a focus on the food of the culture. And we're not talking pricey, snobbish restaurants here. This is often back-alley cookin'.

Bourdain also has the no-holds-barred style, and his program has a disclaimer after the finish of every commercial round. He's a drinker, a genuine badass with charm, wit and intelligence, to boot. He also loves to make fun of the so-called celebrity chefs like Lagasse, Rachel Ray and Bobby Flay, which is so great. So i'm in love. Dan finished his book Kitchen Confidential, which explores the underbelly of the culinary scene. He said it was a great read, and I can't wait. Anyway, check out No Reservations. Click on post title for link to Travel Channel.