Trying to find a sliver of humor to Martha's series unfortunate events of 2011

Without a doubt, it has been a rough year. We have not, however, lost our sense of humor about it all. Let's say it's a coping mechanism for us. After all is said and done, laughter is the best medicine.

March
Spring brought me such a NOT nice surprise. To say that I loathe bugs, insects, any creepy crawly things is an huge understatement. I kid you not when I say that one day I completely lost control and found myself yelling at the top of my lungs to some invading insects, "This.. is.. MY.. HOUSE!!!!!! This included some stomping, like a child throwing a fit. We called pest control. Problem solved.

May
I spent Mother's Day weekend in the hospital with a really bad kidney infection. I ended up with a roomie that reminded me of a Chatty Cathy doll. Really. She could not.. stop.. talking. Oh- and she kind of looked like her, too.

June
I had a really bad reaction to poison ivy, oak, and sumac. A friend said that it happened to her several times in her youth. I had just finished parking my car (from having been to the ER) and was walking home with Liam when she said that her reaction to poison ivy was so bad she looked and felt like the "swamp thing", with all the oozing and everything in the heat of summer. Despite the severe swelling and my own oozing face, I managed to laughed out loud. Some people that passed us by at the exact moment I laughed, gave me such an alarming look. There I was, no doubt looking indeed like a monster and laughing out loud, too. Yep, I must have been just as scary as the "swamp thing."

So, I was on some strong meds for the inflammation and whatnot, that made me really dizzy. Exactly a week later, I tripped over some slippers and fell flat on my coccis bone, very nearly braking it. It was quite a trip, too. I started from one end of the living room and ended up falling in the dining room. When I think about that fall now, even I laugh out loud. If it would have been caught on tape, it definitely would have made it on AFV.

August
A freak hailstorm shattered the rear window of my car. It happened only in this area. Manhattan apparently experienced bright sunny skies during our hailstorm.
Bill: "Maybe you should have ran out there and moved the car to a safer location, like the underpass of the LI expressway."
Me: "I thought about it, but considering the hail was the size of golf balls and baseballs, we would have gotten hurt. Don't you think?"
Bill: "Well, you guys could have worn the bicycle helmets."
Now picture us, with bicycle helmets running out into the hailstorm as everyone was running away from it.
Um... no.

Lastly, the hurricane called Irene that put a tree on our house. Bill and I called several tree removal companies for estimates. We had to make sure they were licensed and insured. During the selection process, he said we should forget about this one particular company because he thought they were "shady". Then, I said that I was "leaning" towards another company anyway. We both turned to look at each other and suddenly started laughing, only my laughter ended up in bawling. Two days later, one of our neighbors came over to ask us why that tree was "still sitting on our house". My immediate thought was, lady- please don't make me scream in your face. We explained that we were scheduled for the removal on that Thursday because all the tree removal companies were booked solid. I guess we needed to call a tree removal company the moment the tree fell on the house. She also told us that she thought we should all "chip" in and remove all of the trees from that abandoned property next door. Hurricane season is not over and heavens forbid another one of those trees should fall onto mine or our any of the neighbors' houses... "knock on wood".

One of my favorite websites, Scouting NY, did a post on what New Yorkers would consume as Irene passed over New York City. I seriously could not stop laughing. Apparently, New Yorkers refuse to accept the possibility of the power ever going out. Why didn't I think about taking photos of our empty supermarket shelves? It really was a comedic sight. People planned to hunker down as if a blizzard would be hitting us instead of a hurricane. We are not used to monster hurricanes up here in the northeast. Some thought of having fun with it, like Super Bowl weekend. Even I get it.

So this is the list of Martha's series unfortunate events of 2011. I seriously hope I won't have to add to it. If I do, I might have to ask the reader/s (if any) to vote at the end of the year on the one considered worst.

Hey, humor me, I have got to laugh to keep from crying. Sure, there is a subtle (or maybe not so subtle) hint of cynicism, but I have to find some humor in it all somehow.

Remembering

I am remembering today. I don't talk about the horrific events of September 11th, 2001 unless someone asks me to tell my story. Even then, I make it very short. I would rather suppress than relive those sickening and frightful moments. I have shared my story with only a few people. Today, I have copied and pasted my 9/11 story onto this blog. I thought it would be fitting to post it on this, the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I put it all out there, as they say, one last time before locking it in the vault until who knows when. Once it is posted, I may or may not decide to keep it up on my blog, but it stays, at least for today, on our day of remembrance here in New York City.

I was born in New York City and I have lived here my whole life, except for the year and a half I spent serving a mission in England and Wales for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I never, ever thought in a million years anything like this would happen here in this country.

I am probably alive today because I turned down a job offer at a bank on one of the top floors of 1 World Trade Center just a few years before that horrible day. I was no where near the WTC on September 11th 2001 and was therefore not hurt because of a simple clerical error. I guess you can say that I was at the wrong place at the right time that day.

I was working at 7 WTC, the third building that collapsed later on that afternoon. The bank I worked for sent me to a two-day seminar. I was given the choice to either go to 1 World Trade Center or the Met Life building in midtown Manhattan. I chose the latter because it was a shorter commute. I arrived bright and early that morning to the midtown office for the seminar, only to be informed that since I worked at 7 WTC I had to report to 1 WTC and that if I left quickly I just might make it in time. I turned around to leave when I saw everyone in the office run towards the windows.

We were up on the 36th floor of the Met Life building and had a clear view of 1 and 2 WTC. Some were speculating that perhaps a news helicopter had lost control and crashed into the building. Not likely, I thought, considering the severity of the impact. Then, we all witnessed the second plane hit. We saw the ball of fire all the way from midtown Manhattan. I felt like the whole experience was being played out like an action feature film. I couldn't believe my eyes. Just then, my brother called me who was working at the time at a city hospital in Queens. He asked me where I was and when I told him that I was in midtown, he frantically told me to leave Manhattan by any means necessary. To quote him, "The U.S. is under attack by Muslim terrorists! They have hijacked five planes and are striking New York City and other major cities! Our hospital is on code red and we’re getting ready to receive the overflow of victims." I have never heard my soft-spoken, easy-going brother speak so alarmingly. I immediately turned around to leave. I have since wondered 

I made it to the ground floor and made my way to Grand Central Station. Everyone was either walking swiftly or at a stand-still, but they were all on their cell phones. My legs started to buckle and so I sat down at the bottom of one of the marble staircases, also trying to call home. When my calls didn’t go through, I thought of all my options. I knew that I had to avoid the subway system all together, so I decided that the best way home was to take a bus or just walk across the Queensborough Bridge and then take a taxi the rest of the way home. When I walked out into the street, I made my way to Madison Avenue. Again, everyone I saw was either at a standstill or walking hurriedly, but everyone was looking towards downtown. When I turned to take a look, I saw a grey haze. People all around me kept saying repeatedly, “I can’t believe it! This isn’t happening!” I hopped on a bus (the last bus to leave Manhattan into Queens), took my seat, and kept calling home. My mother’s call suddenly came through and she told me the horrifying news that the both 1 and 2 WTC had fallen. The bus somehow decided to take a different route and ended up leaving me just a block away from home.

When I got home, my time was split between watching the TV, answering the landline phone, checking my e-mail messages and frantic voicemail messages from friends and family inquiring as to whether I was okay, but I was far from okay.

I will never be okay and will never be tired of asking “why”. I didn’t record the news on TV and I didn’t care to buy the newspaper the next day like millions of people no doubt did. Two or three days later, the plume of smoke from the still smoldering debris blew in a north-eastward direction and it could be smelled from Queens. I could smell it from our apartment when we opened the windows. I lost my appetite in more ways than one and having a full night’s rest for many nights was very often difficult to achieve when thinking about the pain and suffering of all those immediately affected. Everybody tells me that it wasn’t my time to go, I was spared, God was looking after me, I was protected by angels, etc. I never know how to respond to that. I appreciate the sentiment, but when I think of all of those people that were murdered that day at the WTC, I can’t help but feel survivor’s guilt. 

I couldn’t go anywhere near downtown Manhattan, not for at least a couple of years. Any attempt prior to that would make me kind of sick. I finally had the courage one day to go to Ground Zero, as everyone calls it, and I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of reverence and loss. The pain was still very much palpable. To this day, it still feels like hallowed ground and it will no doubt always feel that way to me no matter what is built there.

I do admit that I experienced  survivor’s guilt for a long time. There is no way to reconcile those sickening and frightening feelings than to alleviate some of the pain by saturating oneself with the stories of valor and camaraderie of that day. All of those stories have helped me in some way over the years. Prayer, service, temple attendance, and living the Gospel has also aided in the healing. After all is said and done, I am a New Yorker and a strong, smart and faithful Latter-day Saint woman. All of New York City was in mourning for a very long time, but life goes on and we New Yorkers picked ourselves up, some quite literally dusted themselves off, and we all went back to work to care for ourselves and our families. We are taught to love our enemies. Maybe one day I can learn to forgive, but one thing is certain, I cannot ever forget.

City girl learns the hard way

This city girl has a lot to learn. Recognize this notorious trio? I do hope so, for your sake.

I have lived in an apartment building almost my entire life in New York City. I have never had to worry about such noxious weeds in my old Queens neighborhood or in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. These are the ones you encounter in the woods somewhere while hiking or camping. Right? Well, last Saturday I had the displeasure of meeting them right here, in of all places, my very own backyard.

There is a low wired fence between our house and the neighboring house that has been unoccupied for many, many years. That house, if you can call it that because it kind of looks like a shack, is all boarded up, and since there is no maintenance done, the backyard quite frankly looks like a jungle. I honestly don't know how anyone can get away with it and not get penalized.

Anyway, since it is not yet in our budget to replace this fence, I periodically have to go and remove the weeds that poke through and hang over the fence onto our property. I didn't think to wear gloves, so I just yanked them out. I innocently touched my face, neck and shoulder blade. Why? I had my hair pulled up, but the "fly-a-ways" brushed up against my skin, so I naturally smoothed them away from my face and neck. After I finished weeding, I noticed a dark, sappy residue that resembled pine tree sap on my hands. When I went in to wash my hands, I noticed that it wasn't coming off easily with just plain soap and water, so I used a scrub brush and worked really hard to remove it all.

The next day, I felt a little itchy, but since I normally have dry, sensitive skin, didn't think much of it. By the evening, my right eye was getting swollen. Went to bed, only to wake up the next morning with more swelling around the eye and most of my face. Large red blotches started to appear. Since it was hot that day and we hadn't yet installed the A/C, I thought it was sun poisoning or some other heat-related condition.

Well, I woke up on Tuesday with my right eye completely swollen shut and a super swollen face. My sunglasses didn't even fit because my face was so distorted. I grabbed Liam and marched over to my primary care physician. As soon as he saw me walk through the door, he told me to turn around and get myself to the hospital because it was too severe a reaction and that I needed to be treated at the ER. I drove to the doctor and then to the ER with one good eye. I never realized just how hard this would be, but I made it to the ER safely, with Liam in tow I might add, and was seen immediately. Thankfully, I was in and out in about an hour. They shot me up with a steroid and gave me a prescription for more steroids in tablet form to take at home along with an antibiotic. I was instructed to take Claritin during the day, Benadryl at night, smooth on hydrocortizone cream on my face and Calydryl clear on all other affected areas (namely: my neck, shoulder blade, ears, forearm, feet, and the three fingers on my right hand). I wash thoroughly with Tecnu on the really ugly parts and my usual all-natural calendula body wash on the rest of the affected skin. I also found that I had to take Tylenol for the throbbing pain. We installed the A/C that night and I pretty much sat in front of it and a fan the whole time. The steroids have kicked in slowly and my eye is only just slightly puffy today. The rest of me is still pretty much one huge ugly mess.

Needless to say, sleeping has been challenging this week, but the real heartbreaking part is not being able to hug, kiss or snuggle as needed. If Bill or Liam accidentally touch me, I remind them to immediately scrub their hands with hot soapy water. We sleep head to toe to make sure, we don't touch. All in all, this has been an experience I will never forget. I will never forget to put my gardening gloves on and keep them handy every time I need to work in the backyard. I will never forget to look at these pictures so I become completely familiar with them and recognize these poisonous weeds when I encounter them.

"Leaves of three, let them be." Ha! I guess I needed a little more info than just that little rhyme. Watch out for a stem with three leaves because it could be poison ivy or poison oak.

Just in case, here is another look. Beware and please engrave these images into your head.

China doll

We celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary last September 17th. We traditionally look at our wedding album and after Liam goes to sleep, we watch our wedding video. We giggle in delight to see ourselves looking our very best and so in love. It's also really fun to see our family and friends celebrating with us. Every year we spot something new and fun.

At one point in the evening while we watched the video, my husband let out a deep sigh and said, "Honey, you looked so beautiful on our wedding day. If I had the money, I would have a china doll made of you in your wedding gown." I was left teary-eyed and speechless. I know I'm not china doll material, but this was one of the best compliments of my life. Oh, how I love this man!!

Random thoughts on this teary Sunday

Today was our last Sunday at Church. Next Sunday we will be sitting in a new ward, in a different part of town, with all new faces. I can't help but pause for a moment and sigh.

I have been so melancholy lately. Well, actually that is not completely true. I inherited from my Latino heritage, the uncanny ability to get quite emotional to the point of becoming sappy. Every since I gave birth (three years ago!), I have been able to cry at the drop of a hat. (My husband would tell you that this has always been the case with me and he just might be right!) So, my point is that it's hard for me to say goodbye without shedding a tear (because, boy, when it starts up, it's like Niagra Falls!). This makes it hard for me to talk to anybody past all the blubbering. This is precisely what happened to me today at Church. I had every intention of walking up to everybody, giving them a hug and saying goodbye while getting some photos in. Well, I regret that it didn't happen. Every time I tried, I would start tearing up. I only managed to snap these couple of photos. I guess I just don't like saying goodbye, but then again, I actually do feel the need to do it.

Anyway, I just have to keep reminding myself that we are not moving out of the country or the state for that matter. We are just moving across town. I'm also sad about leaving Brooklyn. Again I have to remind myself that while we will not be living in Brooklyn, we will still continue to be members of the Park Slope Food Coop and that means I can still come out to Brooklyn to enjoy all the unique shops, wonderful parks and scenery, and hopefully visit some friends.

While I am happy about our "new" house (which, by the way, is coming along nicely and will be more or less move-in ready for next Saturday), I am also sad about leaving this ward. We came into this ward as giddy newlyweds hoping to make lots of friends. We leave here now, not only with the added responsibility of a family and a "new" house to boot, but also with a few cherished friends and few extra pounds around the waist. More importantly, we leave here with a stronger testimony of the Gospel from all the learning opportunities we have had and from so many great lessons from outstanding teachers. We are so glad that we met all these fine people, and even more glad that they actually chose to come live here and help out in this part of the Lord's vineyard. Our off hats to you! Thank you!

Going back to the matter at hand, what has me panic-stricken right now is all the packing and the big move this Saturday. It must be said that I am not used to moving. In fact, I have only moved once in my life (not counting my mission, when I got married or when we moved two floors down to a slightly bigger apartment). When I married Bill, it wasn't so much as a big move then it was a big change in my life. Knowing that I would be moving into my husband's bachelor pad (read: very small studio apartment), I only brought with me my clothes and my dresser. Since then we have managed to gradually accumulate lots of stuff, thinking it was a good thing to be frugal. "Waste not, want not." Now, we are in the middle of the daunting task of packing and purging. I just pray that we will be able to get everything packed before Saturday.

The "things I will miss about Brooklyn" I will leave for a separate post for when I actually have time to sit and cry yet again.

Liam with his friend Darion

Daddy and Liam (with Liam's "Brooklyn train" behind them)

A few thoughts on my husband as Bishop

I didn't do a blog post about my husband becoming a Bishop back in June, 2008. It is sacred and private. I can express some of my feelings here and now, and say that I know it was an inspired calling, one that was humbly accepted. 

Serving the Lord in any capacity is an honor, but to serve as Bishop is huge and it comes with great responsibility. It was prayed about and a confirmation of that calling came in the most beautiful setting imaginable. I was sure that my husband would do his very best to lead and care for the ward. We called his parents in Australia who are not members of the Church and they were happy even though they don't know much about the Church or about a calling as huge as this one. My family who are members of the Church were, of course, happy and they knew what it would entail. 

With that said, it was hard to keep the news to ourselves until it was official, but we did it. We had our poker faces on and marched along doing our regular duties for a few days. That Saturday morning, I gave a ride home to a couple of sisters that were with me at a stake activity. A conversation ensued with regard to who would be called as Bishop and a few names were tossed around. One sister finally said, "They will probably end up bringing him in from another ward or stake because there is no one here in this ward that is qualified." I must confess that I felt a little heartbroken, but I quickly set those feelings aside and replaced them with a deep sense of reverence for what would take place the very next day at Church. My husband was ordained and sustained as Bishop of our ward and quickly went to work with his two counselors, Brother VDG and Brother Yau. 

There was, of course, a learning curve and guidance from the Stake leadership at first, but he learned quickly and worked hard these past few years. His testimony and mine has increased exponentially, and we grew to deeply love the members of our ward. 

I won't go into it too much, but I can list a few interesting moments. He also became Justice of the Peace, so that meant that he had the authority to perform a civil marriage in the State of New York. He actually had the opportunity to marry a couple at Church. He was asked to preside and conduct a funeral service that was held at Church, too. Then, there were the many phone calls and e-mails from not only the Bishopric, but from members of the Church everywhere, some from halfway around the world. 

Whenever there was a phone call that required him to put on his Bishopric hat, he immediately slipped away to the bedroom, bathroom or the hallway of our building and there he would stay for anywhere from a half an hour to an hour, often times missing or pushing back a family activity. He would also sometimes have to leave us to see someone urgently. Needless to say, we always needed to make adjustments for these kinds of calls. Sundays were very long since he held a couple of meetings before Church services and numerous interviews immediately after. I would often sit alone during Sacrament Meeting. In fact, I haven't sat next to my husband during Sacrament Meeting in over four years. Many times I did sit together with the wife of one of his counselors who has three children, even though it was challenging to keep all the children somewhat reverent during the service. Equally as challenging was getting to Church  on Sunday morning. (Honestly, I don't know how single mothers manage without the extra help from their husband.) It also took a little while for me to get used to the vagueness of his communications with me concerning anything relating to his duties as Bishop, like when he got phone calls. I thought the secrecy was kind of funny, but I understood that confidentiality was of the utmost importance and I respected it. He would sometimes get a look on his face and I knew that the Bishop wheels in his head were turning. I took it to mean that he was thinking about a family in the ward, a member in particular or members for specific callings. 

Once a month, he had his interview with the Stake President. My husband has a deep respect for that man. He admires not only his excellent leadership qualities, but his deep love of Jesus Christ and his strong testimony of the Gospel. Then, there was the Bishopric training meetings every couple of months. He loved going to these and would come home just brimming with excitement over what he learned. These meetings in addition to everything else made his whole Sunday full of Church-related stuff. My husband was a very busy but happy man serving in this capacity. 

Now, fast forward two years to the present time. When my husband informed the Stake President of our plans to buy a house, he quickly and humorously reminded my husband of the five-year commitment of his calling, but he assured my husband that family came first and that there would be plenty of opportunities to serve in the Church wherever we moved. He really didn't want us to leave the stake and several times suggested that we look in certain neighborhoods within the stake. We really combed through them. Sadly, these were not affordable for us. Then, we had no other choice but to expanded our search. When we told him we had found a house in a different borough of NYC altogether, he was so disappointed, but I think he was happy for us, even though he and his wife are both perplexed with our choice of living in that part of town. You can tell they really love it here in Brooklyn. (We love Brooklyn, too! There is no other place like it, but that is a post for another day.) We always try to assure him that we are indeed moving into a lovely neighborhood. We will just have to invite them over, so they can see for themselves. 

The ward is a lot smaller, but we are sure there will be plenty to do to keep us busy. We look forward to these new opportunities to serve the Lord in that part of His vineyard. 

Big changes

My husband and I have experienced major changes in our lives in the past five years. In my opinion, that is a relatively short time for such monumental changes. These, of course, fall into the category of changes for the good:

Marriage, my moving to Brooklyn, a wonderful pregnancy, a baby, my husband being ordained and set apart as Bishop, the purchase of our house, working hard on said house to make it move-in ready, packing and preparing for the big move, and lastly, my husband being released as Bishop. This last one just happened at Church today.

Coming home after having been released as Bishop

I'm happy and sad. It's kind of hard to put it into words. Our hearts are full with love and gratitude for the many blessings we have received and for our stronger testimony of Jesus Christ and His Church.

We are experiencing a myriad of mixed emotions right now, happy and sad. Liam knows that something is up. He hates all the packing and will unpack every chance he gets. My husband is very excited about the house and is doing the best that he can to fix it up nicely for us. We have been working hard to get it move-in ready and we come home exhausted. We love the new neighborhood, but every time we drive back and circle our current neighborhood looking for parking, we can't help but point out all the cool stuff we will be missing out on. But I will leave that for another post, IF I can get to it. Too busy packing!

I do hope that our Brooklyn peeps will not feel that it is too far for a visit. I expect them to come visit as often as possible. Who knows? Maybe they will like it and decide to follow us? One can only wish.

This kind of change is good. The time has come for us to finally own a house with a backyard and all. It's a dream come true for us. Yes, change is good.

Liam and his friends on our ride to Church

 Our dear, patient friend as the chauffeur

Me time

I promise. This blog isn't all about Liam. I just like to document all of his cuteness so that I can show him later. This little post is about me, well, almost all about me.

A few friends from Church graciously offered to take care of "the Bishopric's children" so that we could all go spend a morning at the Temple. Sigh! Finally, I get to go somewhere without feeling the guilt of leaving my highly energetic toddler with someone who might not be able to handle him.

A morning spent in quiet reflection and prayer at the Temple is just what I needed to recharge my soul and put a lot of things into perspective. I get a chance to really pray for as long as I want without feeling rushed by the need to tend to my little boy. I leave there with a sense of peace, hope, and an added measure of patience and love in my heart, more so than I would leaving Church on any typical Sunday. Most of all, not only do I get some uninterrupted time with my darling husband, I catch a glimpse of our future as an eternal family. That is what life is all about after all, in my humble opinion. Preparing and doing all that is necessary to make it possible to spend the eternities with the ones you love.

(My friend, Melanie)

(A big thank you to Kristin and Ashley for their love and patience in caring for our little ones while we went to the Temple with our hubbies. You're the best. And Kristie, we missed you!)

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

...well, actually not a long time ago and not that far away either.....this little family of three went to the Nassau Coliseum in Long Island to attend Star Wars in Concert.

Liam starring as young Anakin Skywalker (with a chocolate-covered face)

There was no way we were not going to this event. Only a serious fan would go to a concert to listen to the best of the musical scores of all six Star Wars movies (originally composed by the great John Williams), performed by the 86-piece Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra and Choir, while viewing a mix of clips from all six movies in perfect synchronization, and with a bonus laser light show. It was quite the production. To further remove any doubt as to what kind of fans we are, we even went as far as dressing up our toddler as a young Anakin Skywalker with a costume that his daddy picked up for him last Halloween, accessorized, of course, with a lightsaber that his mama got for him.

This very same lightsaber was wielded around by our little Liam (hoisted up on daddy's shoulders) as we tried to make our way through the pressing crowds. Anybody would have been annoyed to be on the receiving end of one of his jabs, but not any of the Star Wars fanatics we encountered. They thought it was all too precious to see our little Liam as the spitting image of little Anakin. I even spotted a few people taking pictures of our young "Padawan". Most of the crowd sported Star Wars t-shirts while others donned a full Star Wars-themed costume.

Oh, and did I mention we had floor seats?!, Uh huh, yeah, and right by the aisle, too, because aisle seats are a must if you have to drag your wiggly toddler to any kind of theatrical event. Yes, it is safe to say we are real Star Wars fans.

When the lights quickly dimmed, we knew we were all going to experience the best in sound when the THX trailer burst out from their high tech sound systems. It was quickly followed by the Twentieth Century Fox march theme. Then came the Star Wars opening theme with these famous words displayed on the largest LED screen, standing three stories high, that has ever toured:

"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..."

These unmistakable words were met with nearly deafening cheers, applause, accompanied by loud whistling (mostly coming from my husband) and the squeals of delight and non-stop applause from our two and a half year old son who at this point was standing on his seat. The voice of James Earl Jones greeted us and introduced us to the narrator, Mr. C-3PO himself, Anthony Daniels.

It was interesting to see the different reactions of the audience. There were some humorous moments, mostly by the narrator whom at times flashed a gold vest whenever he went into C-3PO mode. At one point during Anthony Daniel's narration, an audience member near us let out the perfect wookiee growl after the mention of Chewbacca's name. For most of the time though, it almost felt like we were all at a rock concert. For my husband, who had seen the original Star Wars movie all of 15 times the week it premiered in Australia, twice on opening day, it was practically a dream come true. It was a spectacular show and worth every penny to see the expressions on both my boys, one of them who was teary-eyed. Guess who?

During the intermission, I walked with Liam a couple of yards up to the front to get a better view of some of the instruments. Then, he spotted some boys with illuminated lightsabers clear across the coliseum floor, so we maneuvered our way over there as fast as we could. As soon as Liam could make a clean break, he just ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, to join them in their "battle". So much fun!

After the show ended, we were dismissed with the Star Wars blessing of "May the force be with you." We made our way to view the exhibits that were positioned all around the coliseum, but the crowds made it nearly impossible to view them all. My husband, though, did not seem bothered since we had already seen a much larger and more detailed exhibit at the Powerhouse Museum in Sydney when we were in Australia visiting his parents almost a year ago last December.

Here are some pictures* of our Star Wars-filled afternoon:

Having his fill of popcorn and cherry water (brought from home!)

Careful of the lightsaber-wielding Padawan!

It's C-3PO !!

"A guy can only be called 'Annie' so many times before he snaps!"
(Doesn't little Liam look a lot like this child actor, Jake Lloyd? -That hair!)

Having a little lightsaber fun during the intermission

I think Liam would rather go back to the children playing with the lightsabers. (A little smoke for the ambiance)

The grand finale!

Close-ups of the orchestra

Dirk Brosse, conductor extraordinaire

Our little Anakin checking out Yoda

Daddy is sporting a very cool t-shirt with Boba Fett's helmut made entirely of musical notes.

Liam was probably thinking, as we all were, "Dude, aren't you a little old to be doing this?"

So much Star Wars fun! Still curious about this spectacular event? Read about it here and take a look at this clip!


*My husband has some great shots, so when I do find them, I will include them later in this post.

Martha meets Martha

Today I met Martha Stewart!

I received this e-mail advertising the grand opening of Michael's in Manhattan. I purchased her Encyclopedia of Crafts (on sale at Costco) a few months ago and thought it would be a great idea to go and have Her Majesty sign it. Since I had never been to a book signing, I didn't know what to expect (so I didn't have the heart to drag anyone else along). I drove to Manhattan, miraculously found free parking (only a block away), and quickly headed toward the store.

I thought there would be a super long line, but on the contrary. Just an hour before the book signing I saw only about 40 people or so, maybe a little more. I made my way toward the back of the line with Liam securely strapped in his stroller and hoped that the hour would pass quickly.

To my surprise I was immediately escorted to a newly formed "mommies-with-babies-in-strollers" line with me as the first customer on the line!! YES!! I could hardly contain my excitement.
So, there we were, Liam and I waiting for Martha Stewart to walk by and take her seat at the table set up right in front of the press. Thankfully, the hour surprisingly passed quickly, of course, with the aid of a wide selection of snacks, drinks and small quiet toys that I packed for my wiggly toddler.

Then, she walked by with a small entourage. She looked like she was actually more interested in "shopping" and the store displays rather than in the book signing. I pointed her out to Liam, who was already familiar with her face from having seen her show on TV with me. All I got from him was a sort of half smile with a glazed stare.


She walked over to the table right in front of the press and after a few photos of her holding up the books she is currently promoting (Martha Stewart's Encyclopedia of Crafts and her latest cookbook, Martha Stewart's Dinner at Home) I was called up first!! Yay!!


I thought she was very friendly. She seemed genuinely grateful that I was there and that I had purchased one of her books. I'm sure I said a few things like, "I'm a big fan...I love your show...Thanks for all you do...Thanks for signing my book..." But I was so star struck that I can hardly remember the small chat except to say that she was very friendly and it is true that the TV cameras add ten pounds (i.e. this woman is definitely not overweight). She said Liam was adorable, once again Liam had that same sort of half smile with a glazed stare, and then she thanked us for coming all the way out from Brooklyn.

(While he enjoyed his little project, he was a little put off by all the glitter stuck to his hands)

After she signed my book, we were walked directly to a crafts table set up with a few of her crafts from her collection. I helped Liam decorate a miniature pumpkin with glitter, helped him make a card with some fancy hole punchers, write his name with a glue "pen" and then sprinkled glitter on it. I knew from the get go that it would be terribly messy, but it was a fun and happy moment.

On her way out, she smiled as she recognized us and walked right up to Liam (still in his stroller) and said, "You guys are still here! Wow! Just look at you all covered in glitter!" to which I responded, "Oh yes, and he might have eaten some, too." She laughed heartily, said good bye, and walked away.

Finally free from the stroller, this is his happy face on our way out of Michael's, resembling mine after meeting Martha!

We had so much fun! Everything went smoothly, and well, in a word, it was all just- (as Martha Stewart herself would say) perfect.

A "blessed" school is no more

Blessed Sacrament School is the Catholic elementary school I attended for eight years. Sadly, it closed its doors forever at the end of this school year.

When it was officially announced in early January that my school was getting the axe, I could not believe it. For reasons I don't fully comprehend, I secretly hoped that it would miraculously remain fully functional until the day I could take my son for a private tour of "the school mommy went to when she was a little girl." That day, will more than likely, never come. Nostalgia is a peculiar thing, really. In general, you go through life taking the bad with the good, and then suddenly the winds of change ruffle things up and you are left thinking, "Hey, all in all, it wasn't so bad. I actually had a pretty good time." According to a Facebook page for BSS, this appears to be the sentiment among the alumni.

A few weeks ago my mother called me up almost crying to tell me they were throwing out the rest of the furniture, books, and marching band instruments. I thought, okay, this is it. It's now or never. So, I drove up to Queens for a private tour of my old school.

It was a bitter-sweet moment for me as I wandered around my old school taking a few photos here and there. It's eight year's worth of memories. I was amazed at how much smaller it felt as compared to when I was a student.

I remember...
I was shorter than the rest, shy, and I remember catching colds a lot. I remember hating "dodge ball". What a brutal "sport" for someone as small, shy, and uncoordinated as I was! I remember the dark wood trimming, the super-glossy, hardwood floors, and the light switch down low so that we could reach it as we walked into the classroom. I remember the coat room to the right of the classroom door where we would all march in, hang up our coats and march out at the opposite end to then make our way to our seats. I remember our old desks with the storage compartment underneath the seat where we stowed away our workbooks and textbooks. I remember sitting there with our hands folded on the desk waiting for the teacher to welcome us, direct us to stand in unison and recite the "Our Father" and then pledge allegiance to the American flag. I remember the blackboards in the front, side and the back of the classroom. I even remember being assigned a few times to "clap the erasers" out the window. Good times. I remember the PA system, the small library, and the auditorium where several patriotic plays were performed. I remember we had marching band which you were not allowed to take part in unless you were a straight A student. I remember my first grade teacher, Miss Panica who was especially kind to me since I was the smallest of the group. I remember the very mean Mrs. Squadrito (in the 3rd or 4th grade, I can't remember exactly). I remember choir with Sister Mary Agnes, English with little old Sister Priscilla, sweet Sister Alma and our kind-hearted school principal, Sister Mary Patrick. I remember running across the street to my home to quickly have my lunch so that I could run back to catch some play time at the schoolyard before Sister Mary Patrick came out with a massive bell signaling us to get "in line" and then usher us back into the building accompanied by our homeroom teachers. So many memories as I wandered in and around my school.

According to the school principal, a lot of the furniture, including some of the classic old metal and wood desk chairs with the attached tabletop, were purchased by an anonymous benefactor for a smaller Catholic school somewhere in an "underprivileged part of Brooklyn." I was informed that the old school building will still be used for Sunday School (the Catholic version of course). The fate of the "new" school building (erected in 1966) is yet to be determined.

The same day I got my private little tour, I also picked up some "mementos." We saw so many items that were destined "to be destroyed and thrown out" according to another staff member. So, we made some arrangements with him and we did salvage a small, old school desk/chair for Liam that was still in pretty good shape, a few books, a beautiful little old bookcase, a couple of bugles, a glockenspiel, and of course a couple of marching band drums (that will all need to be refurbished by my husband as soon as he gets some free time). When my little boy has outgrown these items and squeezed out the last ounce of fun in them, they will eventually find their way to the trash where they were originally doomed to go.


I have more pictures posted up on Flickr.

A big thank you to Blessed Sacrament School for the excellent education. Most of all, thank you for the basic religious instruction that peeked my interest in learning more about God and Jesus Christ. God bless you!

Boys will be boys

A few weeks ago, we went to check out the USS Iwo Jima (LHD-7), that was docked just walking distance from the USS Intrepid. I can't and won't even attempt to describe all the different kinds of weaponry, military vessels, and aircraft that is carried by this tremendous ship. It's a guy thing. My boys certainly had fun checking everything out. Liam especially enjoyed the trucks, helicopters, and the fighter jet.


All I can say is that the carrier is intimidatingly big and kind of scary, but I'm grateful for our military forces that are out there every day in harm's way to protect and serve. I am glad we had the chance to express the same to the military personnel that we met along the way. Afterall, that is the whole reason for having Memorial Day.