quiet sundays

Growing up, we were one of those traditional families who stayed home on Sundays. Family day.

I'd pad down the stairs to the sound of soft rock and the crinkle of the Sunday paper, while the smell of instant coffee and bacon gently nudged me out of sleep. Most times sister Sara had already been down for her hangover nourishment and would pass me on the stairs on her way back to bed for another couple hours.

That was one thing about breakfast - Mom would make you whatever you wanted, but it had to be within an hour of Dad's eggs being cracked into the pan or you missed your opportunity for something homemade. After the one hour window, you'd still be fed, but it would be standard Monday thru Friday fare - oatmeal, Eggos, Life or Pop Tarts. We'd wade through the massive paper, passing the funnies, pointing to the day's favorite. There would be the lure of the Toys R Us flier and helping mom clip coupons because that meant playing with scissors.

Then there would be a couple of chores - raking leaves or stacking wood in the fall; pushing beans in the spring. Mom would resume her post in the kitchen , putting a roast in the oven and preparing all of the favorite fixings.

There would always be the Three Stooges and then sports on TV - most notably the Patriots, but the Bruins, Red Sox or Celtics were stand-ins off season. During football season you could hit up Dad for a juice cup of beer, even as a grade-schooler. Sometimes two if Dad was already a few deep and Mom wasn't looking. Fetching pull-tab cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon from the garage was part of the deal.

There were times those family days felt oppressive. A restriction to my social life. Other kids were hanging out, going to the movies! Through college and into my twenties, often I was torn. Who were these other alien kids who wanted to get out and about, to shop, drink, see a movie? Didn't they want to sit still, read, watch TV? Other times it was liberating - it was my time to do whatever I wanted. Watch football all day at the Beer Garden? Mimosas, Bloody Mary's, IPAs? Shopping in Harvard Square and a burger at Shea's? Heaven.

This was one of those mornings that bring me back to my quiet Sunday roots. Snuggling in bed for longer than anticipated. Bright blue skies, soft rock on the radio, the news online, a hot breakfast and coffee (not-instant). A couple chores, more snuggling.

Glimpses of a near certain future of more family days ahead.

a secret a secret

I've been keeping a secret for TWO. WHOLE. WEEKS.

Not very well. I had to tell someone, but he doesn't have anyone to tell that would effect the outcome in any way.

And I was told the secret in company of another person close to the situation, so we've been able to talk about it too.

I've had to do the whole "playing along" thing with the person whom the secret concerns. "Would he really be that obvious?" and "What are you going to wear?"

Let the record show that at 9:51 p.m. on Friday November 4th all of the sudden I got that nervous belly feeling and I think it must've just happened...

My phone should ring shortly...

There is something to celebrate!!!

halloween hangover

Reeses Peanut Butter Cups... so good you could drink them.

aye aye aye!

My BFF had this in her blog and, true to my name, I had to kopykate it. She kopykated it too.

I am: supposed to be working like a good corporate minion.
I know: that everything happens for a reason.
I have: a 29th birthday coming up.
I wish: for a thousand more wishes!
I hate: that it gets dark out so early now.
I miss: school vacations.
I fear: that time is going to slip right past me.
I hear: the constant phlegm-clearing from the cube next to me.
I search: for a new job.
I wonder: what I am doing with my life.
I regret: half-assing it more than I should.
I love: unseasonably warm temperatures!
I'm lucky because: I’m healthy and live a pretty darn good life.
I ache: to see my parents growing older.
I care: about making everyone happy.
I always: get caught up in the details. The good ones and the bad ones.
I am not: worried about losing Theo Epstein. Psshht.
I dance: with my shoulders. Someone pointed that out once and I always thought that was a weird thing to point out.
I sing: bad love songs/80’s rock/old school rap with my bug to make each other laugh.
I do not always: let my guard down.
I should not: worry so much.
I am: going to anyway!
I love: puppy-dogs.
I write: to let it out and make sense of it all.I also fear: scary movies.
I win: at spelling.
I lose: at math.
I listen: to reason when my heart doesn’t get in the way.
I am glad that: my friends all rock.
I am happy about: all of the wee ones that just arrived into my life.
I am obsessed with: tweezers.
I should be: paying attention!
I want: to rock out.

brownies

The dream was shortlived. Closed-toe shoes with brown socks - so you could argue that I haven't completely given in.

hanging on in any way possible

I finally made the switch from my white purse of summer back to last year's black bag. Lucky mag said I could keep wearing my white purse, but it seems that not everyone is up to speed with this new rule and I'm not quite enough of a fashionista to be the trendsetter on this point. Until next year, my polished white Kenneth Cole little friend. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

It may be only barely reaching over the cusp of 60 degrees here in Boston, but I have not given in to the closed-toe shoe yet. The drawer of black socks will remain firmly closed until further notice.

Nevermind that I'm curled up on my couch under a fleece blanket in a velour jumpsuit with my bug's big ol' athletic socks pulled up almost to my knees. And bunny slippers. Just never you mind.

Say no to black socks.

hey hey we're the monkeys

Ya know those dreams you have when you're just waking up that seem incredibly real? Like when you wake up you're like, um wait, didn't I just wake up? Enough to make me check my call log, because didn't I just call Laura and didn't she tell me she wanted to go to the outlets in VT? I thought it was 3 o'clock. Is the bald baby squirrel still under my bed? That biotch better not have opened any more of my birthday presents - even if they were all bought at a yard sale. The Monkeys in vinyl form - talk about a perfect gift.

a good sick day...

... is one where you nap in your love bug's arms all day, eat all the junk you want because it's all you can taste, catch a couple talk shows you always miss due to your 9-5, take an evening stroll around the island with two of your best chiquitas who were also home sick and then wind down with a little Sex and the City. Oh, and the buzz from the cold meds ain't bad either.

vocabulary lesson

I've got all sorts of babies coming in to my life. Christina delivered Gianna in August, sister Liz delivered Creighton in September. Caitlin is due the day after my birthday and has been asking me about the experiences of the two new mommies. Well didn't I go and spill the beans that they both suffered uncomfortable circumstances during delivery.

Caitlin went to her birthing class at MGH the very next day and told the doctor, who was shocked that both Christina and Liz suffered such distress.

It wasn't until a couple weeks later that I realized I had told Caitlin about their Hernias when I meant Hemorrhoids.

a blog all of my very own

Tried to start this up once before, but I'm on it for real now. I think. I hope! I've been slacking in the creative department lately and it's starting to hurt the squishy place inside. So back on it!