Friday, December 02, 2005

Let it snow

I’ve been thinking a lot about snow lately. Maybe it’s because it was about 65 degrees earlier in the week and I’m seriously wondering if winter will EVER come or maybe it was finding this picture in my files. Whatever it was, I am now thinking about snow and am looking forward to busting out the LL Bean snow boots and the hats and scarves.

When I graduated from college I moved to Boston. I loved getting snow from December thru April and even here in Philly we have gotten some pretty good snow falls. But this year the Weather Guy on Channel 10 has predicted we won’t get too much this winter. I am now depressed. I want SNOW.

I love shoveling the driveway, side- and front walks and chatting with the neighbors over our shovels and then coming in to warm up with a nice, hot pot or two (yes, pot, you think this energy level just grows on trees?) of coffee. I love playing with the mutts and watching them catch snowballs and race thru snow that is actually higher than George the Jack Russell. I love feeling like I’m trapped in my house, at least for a few hours, where it’s cozy and warm until the plows come thru. I do realize that I am lucky in that if the weather is bad or threatens to be bad, I can work from home. But I always hope that the office will close or that I can pretend that I accidentally left my laptop at work. Oops!

So, Internet Folks, please start practicing your snow dances and praying to the Snow Gods that the Weather Guy is wrong, wrong, wrong and we really will get mountains of the white stuff this winter. Thank you. And don’t sit there at your desk thinking, “Snow dance? What the hell is she taking about?” You know the one, the one you used to do way back when you were in school and had a test the next day or just wanted a day off from school? Yeah, THAT one, so start practicing it in front of the mirror to get the moves down right.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Flu shot

I got my flu shot yesterday. My arm is STILL throbbing like hell but I really don’t care as long as I don’t get the Flu again. I am not a good patient and I have this slight tendency to think I am going to DIE when I get sick.

Anyway, after they shot me up with toxins from some dead animal they slapped a Band-Aid over the hole they left in my skin. Today, as I was in the shower I figured that by now the thing had done it’s job and I would no longer bleed to death if it came off. So, I tried to take it off. It didn’t want to come off. What the hell? Where do doctors get these Band-Aids from?! Is the glue on them GorillaGlue because no band-aid I have stays on for more than 30 seconds without falling off.

I finally ripped it off, and all I thought was that I was probably going to need another Band-Aid now since I now just removed 6 layers of my skin.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

High school guy

Yes, he’s changed. I would assume it’s to be expected between the ages of 14 and 31. Not only has he grown but he shaves now too. I never would have recognized him in a million years if I passed him on the street.

We spent a lot of time talking about the people we went to school with and what they were up to now. It was funny to hear who had been doing what and what they were doing now. It was like reading the gossip columns but with people I knew and no haute couture. Hmm, maybe it wasn’t that interesting but it was fun to hear. There were some pretty good shockers but looking back on it maybe we all should have seen them coming. Apparently one guy, in college, was personally responsible for the largest bust of pot in the ENTIRE STATE where he was at school. Good entrepreneurial spirit, wrong product.

What was strange was sitting across from this man (a man!) who I felt I should know better and should be able to talk to about all sorts of things since I knew him back when. But then I realized that he is, essentially, a complete stranger and that the only familiar thing about him was his smile. Well, that and his height. (Holy shit. He made me feel short and at 5’11” -in heels- that is no small feat!). And, yes, we did solve the “repressed memory” that I had. No, I won’t share. A lady does not kiss and tell….

He did say one thing which now has me obsessed, OK, obsessed may be a strong word but occasionally preoccupied would be a good way to put it. He said that he remembered my tooth. I have a slightly skewed tooth. The one that sits next to my front tooth but not the canine incisor (is there a Dentist in the house?! What is that tooth called?!)? Yeah, well one of mine projects towards the front a bit at an angle. (I even tried to get a picture of it for you but it didn’t work when I tried to crop it, sorry.)

Anyway, I never saw my one crooked tooth as anything to be self-conscious about (and I know he didn't mean to make me self-conscious about it). My non-existent ass, big hips and small boobs maybe (by the way, Dearest Sister of mine, they did NOT grow in college like you promised me they would) but not my tooth. Now I find myself running my tongue over it while I’m typing, cooking or reading on the train. Ugh. I think I have enough to worry about without adding my tooth to the mix but does anyone have the name of a good orthodontist? You know, just in case.

Monday, November 28, 2005


A very good friend of mine’s father passed away on Thanksgiving night. He had been fighting cancer for well over a year and it was not a sudden death. It was, however, a peaceful ending to a very awful illness. My friend had spoken to me earlier in the week and told me that her father had stopped eating and had decided it was time. The cancer that had consumed him and had made it impossible to walk or stand had finally completed it’s terrible mission.

I did not know her father all that well. I saw him at her boys’ birthday parties, backyard barbecues, and Thanksgiving and Easter holidays that I joined them for, but I never spent much time talking with him. He was such a quiet, kind, gentle man who, while the adults were talking, would sit on the floor with his Grandsons playing cars or whatever the game of the week was. When my friend called me this past Friday morning to tell me he had died during the night, I was overcome with grief. I felt terrible for her, her bother, her mother and all of their family.

Mr. K had become very successful running a large, local business. According to my friend he was approached numerous times to sell out to big, national conglomerates but never did. Not even during his struggle with cancer did he want to sell. He knew if he did that many of his employees would lose their jobs. I saw one of his company’s commercials earlier last week and broke down in tears and surprised myself in the process. I saw another on Friday morning after my friend called and have not been able to turn on the TV since for fear of seeing another commercial and losing it again.

I am surprised by how hard his death is affecting me; this man, who lived for his family and business, but who I never really spoke to. What I do know is what he did for his family and how much he loved them. He made it easier for them to enjoy their lives and each other. In all this he also, unknowingly, helped me. He made it possible for my friend to do something for me that not many other friends would ever want to or be able to do. He raised her to be generous and kind, trusting and understanding. For that I cry and for that I feel extreme grief that a wonderful, honest, caring man, husband, father, grandfather and brother is gone.