Rock on, White Lies

I am a middle-aged woman with an addiction problem...I am addicted to Rock Band.  I love to sing, although I am a very poor singer.  I'm great on getting the tempo just right and sing the words the way they're meant to be sung, but the finished product is really quite awful.  But it's fun, and I think that's supposed to be the main objective of the game.

I love the thought of playing Rock Band.  I love rushing to my sister's house just down the street from my own at 10:00 o'clock at night for a "quick hour", which turns into three.  I love to sing my little heart out, squirming around in my chair as if I'm dancing while I sing, and behaving like I'm a teenager.  I love my sister looking at me with her quizzical look asking, "HOW old are you?"  I love our Rock Band 2 and 3 song choices, I love our Beatles edition, and I love our AC/DC live tracks.  I love it all.

But what I really love most about playing is the precious time that it gives me with family and the fact that it is our special little treasure.  That's the real addiction in it.  We (I think Emily is responsible) have dubbed ourselves "The White Lies".  That's as good a rock band name as any.  Justin is awesome on guitar and vocals (I do loan him the microphone from time to time to sing a song or two).  Emily is an excellent drummer (and I let her sing a little too).  Tory can do it all; she is simply amazing on all of the instruments and since she happens to be a professional singer it's pretty wonderful of her that she does not once cringe while I'm sounding like a wounded cat.  Kathy is great on the laptop.  She uses her laptop while we usurp her living room for our nights of merriment, and eventually she caves.  If she happens to know the song, she'll belt it out without a mic and drown out the lead singer of The White Lies, which happens to be me, of course.  And we love it.  And we love that we can get her to take over guitar when Justin takes over the mic.  She says she's not competitive, but just hear her roar when she's had a great performance.  Her initial efforts to ignore us are futile for she suffers from the same addiction as I do.

Our schedule may have to vary a little once the wedding of the year takes place.  Next thing you know, Emily will bring a guy home to meet us, who, if he knows what's good for him, will like Rock Band.  Then, in a few more years, it may change again once we add some little tykes to the mix.  We'll just get some Fisher-Price add-ons.  Change may cause us to adjust a little, but this family thing we've got going on is too good and too strong not to survive.  Some people go to a lot of expense and trouble to find entertainment.  We find it on Friday evenings right there in the living room, just the five of us, and an occasional "guest star" only adds to the memories we get to share.

This kind of fun can't be purchased, and this kind of love can't be diluted by distance.  May we forever rock on, White Lies.

Copyright Priscilla Garamella 2011

Five More Mondays

Do you go to bed on Sunday nights and think to yourself, "oh, no, Monday morning already tomorrow and I have to get up for work again?"  My sister Kathy who taught school for 37 years used to get to some point in May and start to count how many Mondays she had left before the end of the school year.  It made it easier to deal with the kids getting antsy with the good weather and summer vacation just around the corner, and counted down her own time to relaxation and fun in the swimming pool at last.

My husband is not typically home for dinner on Monday evenings and so I enjoy dinner at Kathy's with her and with my son Justin.  Going to Kathy's is always mostly often a relaxing experience (just kidding, Kath; it's "always") and time spent with Justin is always (no strikethrough needed) entertaining.  Justin has been a character from day one and has more funny things roll off his tongue in two minutes than most of us can even think in two months.  Spending those few hours together is a highlight of my week.

Justin is getting married next month, and tonight I was suddenly struck with a sobering thought:  five more Mondays.  I have only five more Mondays before the wedding and before life will drastically change for us.  Justin will no longer be there for our Monday evening meals.  He will no longer be my little boy (not that he's been that for a very long time) but he'll soon be someone's husband.  That's a massive concept to grasp.  The four-year-old strategically maneuvering just enough of his chicken pot pie into the garbage when our backs were turned to make it "look good" starts to become smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror when I try to wrap my head around his being a responsible husband.  Not that he isn't a responsible adult, because he absolutely is, but it is he who will now be the head of the family and he who will one day (hopefully) be a father having the "almost clean plate sleight of hand" done to himself.

I am very much looking forward to the wedding and to having a new daughter-in-law to love, but it's hard to absorb all that will necessarily change.  Life must change, and change is good, but that doesn't mean it doesn't take a lot of adjustment on the part of a lot of people.  We will all be changed by not having him near us on a daily basis, but I dare say he will miss being near us on a daily basis too.  He won't be here to change the water bottle on the water cooler or take out the garbage or shovel the snow.  He won't be here to be the calm in the storm or the comic relief on a difficult day.  It's a little bit scary for me to think of all this change, but exciting too because I'll have a beautiful daughter figure in my life now, and, if the good Lord blesses us, one day grandchildren too.

So I'll savor my five more Mondays, and then once I've settled in after the wedding, I think I'll change my focus to the thought of a little grandson entering my life who can be a chip off the old block and carry on the shenanigans his father sired in him.  It certainly makes having only five more Mondays a lot more palatable when I consider what kind of pot pie prestidigitation the next generation will conjure up.

Copyright Priscilla Garamella 2011

When did she get to be a beauty; when did he grow to be so tall?

This past weekend my family celebrated two big events that I can't believe have come to pass in such short order:  the 30th birthdays of both my son Justin and my niece Emily.  I'm not sure when or how it happened, but those two little angels that I so loved cuddling and playing with are now incredible adults.

Justin, my one and only, makes me proud every single moment of every single day and I'm not sure exactly what I did to deserve such a wonderful son.  He is my father reincarnated, very smart, very level-headed, amazes me with his common sense and wisdom, and is funny beyond belief.  I didn't realize when I named him Justin, and I must admit that I heard the name Justin on a soap opera and snatched it up immediately, that the name would fit him so perfectly since he turned out to be one of the most just persons I've ever known, another trait in common with my late father, who died before Justin was born.

I couldn't love Emily more if I gave birth to her myself.  She's an exceptional young woman, who is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.  When Emily takes you into her heart, she gives you a piece of her heart that belongs to you forevermore.  She doesn't expect or ask for it back; it yours.  And her heart must be endless because she gives pieces freely and generously and by all accounts she should have run out by now, but her supply seems to be inexhaustible.

Justin's fiancee Tory engineered a great surprise party for the two of them this weekend.  Being born two days apart, they've celebrated together for all of these 30 years, so it was fitting to combine once again.  The surprise, however, was on us since the two of them had no trouble figuring it all out beforehand, but graciously went along with the gag, and a great time was had by all.

Although I am struggling to arrive at an answer as to why they have made it to 30 years of age while time has stood still for me and I am an amazingly young woman to have a 30-year-old child, I've been doing a lot of reminiscing this past week, and I'm starting to think maybe I have gotten a bit older because a lot of time has gone by and a lot of things have changed; changed, yet strangely stayed the same.  I do realize however that my nightly anti-aging routine was merely one tenth of what it is today.

I remember watching the last royal wedding of Princess Diana and Prince Charles while I was up very early in the morning with my unhappy infant and all of the networks carried coverage of the wedding, and now this weekend their own son is being married.  I hope I will not be awakened early by anyone who is unhappy as I would prefer to just see pictures after the fact and if I am awakened before dawn it is I who will be the unhappy one.

I also can remember that the weather pattern happened to be identical 30 years ago this week.  Cold, wet, and miserable going into the hospital, sunny and beautiful with all of the trees and plantings having learned that it's spring when we came home.  What a wonderful treat to come home with a precious new gift and find that not only your life has blossomed but that life all around you has blossomed as well.

I am blessed, I am truly blessed, and I am grateful that God chose me to be the mother of this amazing man and the paternal aunt of this wonderful woman.  Somehow, I did something right.  Somehow, the stars all aligned in just the right pattern at just the right time.  Somehow, my prayers were answered and I became the beneficiary of a beautiful miracle.

Copyright Priscilla Garamella 2011

Who is Priscilla Garamella?

They call it "Puppy Love"

There are many different forms of love, romantic love, a mother's love for her children, the love of friends and family, love for all things chocolate, and the comfortable, ever-present love of man's (and woman's) best friend.  I think they call it puppy love.

Rosie came into our lives an all-too-brief seven years ago.  She brought with her the biggest heart and sweetest personality one pup could ever possess.  This was a golden retriever with a heart of gold.  She spent her life making people happy, from the UPS man, who loved seeing her resting her head on the windowsill looking out at him, to Justin, who, even if he brought his race car home in pieces on a Saturday night, would soon be smiling when she began "attack licking" him all over the face.  It sure made me happy when I'd walk into the house to be greeted like a rock star by my "Puppy Girl", even if the underlying reason for the greeting was the treat she knew I'd give her.  Yes, making us happy was her lot in life.  But no one was happier than Kathy.  Kathy was happy to give Rosie insulin shots twice a day; happy to clean up after her when her poor little diabetic bladder just could not hold any more; happy to spend thousands of dollars to repair the cataracts in Rosie's eyes so she could once again go outside and chase butterflies and watch the rabbits from the window.

Rosie had more health problems than you could shake a stick at, whatever that really means, but you would never know it.  She was just always happy.  She had a real purpose in life, in addition to bringing joy to every person she encountered.  The day she joined my sister's household, the neighbor got Kathy's mail and mistakenly opened it, so he came to her door to apologize.  When he saw the newest addition to the family, he asked if he might bring his wife and daughter Tory to meet little Rosie.  It was a quick decision on their part to adopt Rosie's brother, Passion.  Justin, working at home at the time, found himself to be the newly-assigned dog whisperer to both Rosie and Passion, and passion was exactly what existed in the relationship shared by Justin, Rosie, and Passion as he loved them with all his heart and they adored him and accepted him as their alpha dog and number one love of their life.

It wasn't long before Justin and Tory, having absolutely nothing but two golden retriever pups in common, began to take walks with Rosie and Passion.  The walks got to be longer and longer.  Next thing we knew,  Tory, a singer and dancer, started going to Justin's races...and even into the pits.  Justin was attending Nutcracker performances and voice recitals.  This June, we have a wedding to celebrate.

So our little Rosie came along and created a whole lot of  happiness.  I hope one day my grandchildren can sit with me with their own little pup while I tell them the story of how their Mommy and Daddy met and became a family, all because of puppy love.

Copyright Priscilla Garamella 2011

Groundhog Day Revisited

Can you believe it's Groundhog Day already?  I hear that Punxsutawney Phil did not see his shadow today, and that means that spring is on its way.  It's a little hard to convince us in the northeast who've just experienced the most snowfall EVER in the month of January and have 15-foot high walls of snow all around us that spring is imminent, but we'll revel in whatever optimism we can get nowadays, even if the uplifting wisdom comes from a furry rodent.

Most people don't think too much about Groundhog Day, but I happen to have a brother who for many years threw an annual Groundhog Day party.  I honestly don't know if he has some kind of connection to groundhogs or if there is some deeper meaning that escaped me, but I really think it was just a good excuse for a party.  He has a "Happy Groundhog Day" hat that he dusts off once a year, and, even though I think he had the day off from work today, I'm sure he wore it around the house.

Remember the movie, "Groundhog Day", in which Bill Murray's character Phil just kept living the same day over and over again?  Day after day Phil would awaken to the alarm's radio playing "I Got You Babe" only to later discover that once again it was Groundhog Day and he'd relive the same day he had experienced the previous day.

How many days does this happen to you?  Do you wake up day after day to new adventures, new opportunities, new experiences, or do you stop at the same coffee shop, go to the same job, work for the same employer and expect a different result?

I think we've all been guilty of revisiting Groundhog Day repeatedly.  It gets comfortable to have routine.  But if you're not all that happy doing the same thing over and over and you're still struggling to pay the bills and get ahead, isn't it time to break out of the habit and try something different for a change?

What if I could show you a way to save money on every single thing you buy?  What if I could show you a better way to take responsibility for your financial security?  What if I could show you a way to ensure a healthy residual income so that you might work hard for a couple of years, but then you could spend your Groundhog Days on the beach while you watched your ship sailing in with your cash?  You'd like that, wouldn't you?  Of course you would!  It sure would beat letting a critter bring your only glimmer of optimism, wouldn't it?

http://www.priscillagaramella.com/

Copyright Priscilla Garamella 2011

Raise your hand if you're tired of shoveling snow!

So how about it, northeast?  Are you as tired as I am of shoveling snow?  I've lived in Connecticut all my life and I never remember a winter like this one.  I remember a lot of snow as a little girl, but it didn't hang around like this.  We didn't have humongous mounds of snow that you couldn't see around to pull out of a side street.  Of course, I didn't drive when I was a little girl, so you never know.  Maybe you just don't pay attention when you're riding in the back seat.  But I remember our home movies.  My father would spend hours and hours making us an ice rink in the back yard when it snowed.  My mother would film him, and the painstaking way he worked (when you could see around her fingernail which she always managed to have in front of the lens) was a true labor of love.  The next film sequence a few days later would be of grass showing through the ice.  Well, it was fun for the few days that it lasted.

Anyway, my sister's doctor always tells her that no one over 30 should be shoveling snow.  He even gave her a written prescription:  NO SHOVELING SNOW.  She never filled the prescription apparently because I've seen her shovel a LOT of snow this winter.  And take my word for it, she's over 30.

I, on the other hand, have had quite enough bending, lifting, and throwing for one season, and it's only the first of February so we could have a LONG way to go, but I found myself a helper.  I call him "Joe", "Snow Joe" that is.  Have you seen these little gadgets?  What a great thing for someone like me.  I've got the $99 model, and it does a terrific job of cleaning the snow for me.  With some of the snow we've had this season, I've had to take the snow down in levels, but it still beats bending, lifting, and throwing.  It's a wonderful tool for every woman to have, but my husband has decided he likes it too, which is okay by me because it's even easier to clear the snow when I don't have to do it myself.  You'd better hurry and order yourself one before they're all sold out.  Probably had a run on them today because here comes more snow [sigh].

I've got to sign off.  It's been tough typing with only my right hand while the left one has been raised in the air.

Do your back a favor.  Check out the Snow Joe:  http://www.home-improvement-superstore.com/snow-joe-llc-322p-7-5a-elec-snow-thrower.html?utm_term=75AElecSnowThrower&utm_content=HomeImprovement&site=google_base&utm_source=GAN&utm_medium=affiliate&utm_campaign=bluecherry

Copyright Priscilla Garamella 2011