Power of Communication

A couple of days ago, I was in a mood. It started with something that annoyed me and I didn't say anything...well, ummm, it morphed into something big, childish and ugly. Suddenly everything was irritating and just kept feeding the beast. I let go in a shouting, cussing, slamming things down kinda way. It wasn't pretty.( I'm blushing right now just writing about it).


For my efforts, I got it thrown right back at me. It was ugly, it's happened a couple of times before, and I'll say, I never want it to happen again.


I (mistakenly) thought that "letting it out" would make me feel better. Not a chance, I realized, as I was ranting, that all the things I was complaining about were petty, so what if Sam's club cant put anything in the same spot two weeks in a row( for example). I don't want to be that person to whom every little irritant is cause for a big hulla-baloo. I want to cherish my blessings and not waste my energy ranting about the little things.


To accomplish that, I've discovered, I need to voice my irritation with certain things and not let them sit and start sucking all the other negative thoughts into it. Angry is not an emotion I like, in myself nor directed at me.


Communication is key and we have struggled with it over the years, we both have a problem with holding things in, so as not to burden or bother the other, until it gets bigger than it needed to be in the first place. Neither of us thinks enough of our own thoughts and feelings to imagine the other wants to know, to help, or just hear.

With every ounce of my being, I intend to be conscious of my own feelings about what matters and what doesn't, to voice my opinion when it really matters to me, and not let the little things get in the way of counting my blessings.

Volleyball Party

To this point, I have come up with very little. I have to call the coach and see what she expects. I'm thinking, volleyball net in the front yard(back yard has a slope), Wii or PS2 guitar hero in the living room, and the pool out back. There has been a lot of high school drama on the team this year and this "team building" party is mandatory. They party instead of practice. Its still togetherness, my house isn't that big and here in FL, its all on one level.



We host a lot of huge sleepovers, so I think this party wont be too much trouble, they go home when its over.



After all, they are teenagers, loud music, and food are pretty much all they need. Maybe if I'm feeling creative I'll decorate in the school colors(again, no brainer, school colors are red, white and blue). I'll dig out my Fourth of July stuff, and just use the stuff without flags all over it.



We love veggie trays around here and not just for parties. In addition to the standard carrots, celery, cucumber, and broccoli, we like to have Vidalia onions, pea pods, cauliflower, and several colors of peppers.

Deviled eggs

chips/salsa

burgers/dogs

maybe chicken too, if parents expect to stay. I'll buy it and cook it later in the weekend if parents don't stay.



I have to work until 2 that day and Jill has a Dr. appointment at 2:50(weird time). So all of that can be done the day before(my day off) and all I'll have to do is set it out. Hubby mans the grill, I man the condiments and open the cheese slices.



My godmother gave me a deviled egg tray that holds 30 egg halves...do the math...not 12, not 24, not 36...did they sell eggs in cartons of 15 at some point in history?

Hey, I think I just planned the party, Coach said she was bringing drinks, and one of the parents offered to buy the burgers(I just have to figure out which one now).

Its Only Little OLD Me

It just dawned on me, that now I've outed myself to ya'll, started posting, made my subscriptions public, and started commenting, I might want to introduce myself properly.




Hi, I'm Sue!



By trade, I'm a 911 operator for a small fire department on the west side of Florida (hurricane lane). I've been doing that for a loooooong time (17 years, actually, shhh, don't tell anyone). I started this blog with some posts about my co-workers.... I'm over that now. There are forces at work, in my life, that whisper "your shift working days are numbered".




I live in a suburban, malignant sub-division surrounded by country that has absolutely no local personality other than "change is bad". I'm an hour from Big City, and an hour and a half from "the mouse".






9 years ago my 3 year old son and I moved in with the man and children I married last June. On our first date (and since this is MY blog, I can say with certainty...the first time we went out together to a movie, he picked me up, he paid, we went out for ice cream after, was a date...so what if all 4 kids were there and the movie was Toy Story 2...it WAS a date) he told me, that he had trouble finding women, to date, that didn't think 3 kids, who were barely school age, were "baggage". To which I replied...didn't you know I'm a bag lady? Those kids are MINE, I dare you to defy me!




We've had quite a life together and our wedding wasn't the "beginning' as weddings typically are, We merely confirmed the family that we had already become, publicly and legally.






Last winter it came to our attention that a friend (and ex-stepbrother, on their mother's side) of our kids needed a place to live. He was given a rotten slice of life...Mom's a junkie, Dad's in jail, he was living with his granny until she had a stroke and had to go into a nursing home. Then he lived with his 23 year old, sister (who'd just had a baby), and failed to get along with her hubby. Punk-ass 17 year old, talking to his big sister, wasn't respectful enough for hubby. So, as we had a spare room(which is why I'm blogging at the dining room table), we laid out some ground rules and said welcome.





So that's the basics of how I came to be at this place, I read all your blogs and wanted to start my own, but I didn't know what my voice was, I don't have a shtick, a draw, or even any knowledge of this computer stuff(I still can't get my profile pic to work), then I realized that my life, while, to me, seemed mundane, really is something that might possibly be interesting, I find funny, clever stories to tell family and friends in everything we do...why not share them?

I don't have clever monikers for my kids and since I'm using my first name I thought...eh, what's the harm in using theirs. I'd like to introduce them...







Dave - 18 year old high school senior, mediocre grades, rap music, huge pants, gangsta wannabe that works at a daycare center after school program and LOVES it.




Cat - 16 year old high school junior, mediocre grades, a million friends, volleyball and basketball playing athlete, works the YMCA camp in the summer, and is officially only allowed to wear potato sacks from now on.





John - 15 year old, (first born twin, therefore "older" than his sister), high school sophomore, stellar grades, but struggles to achieve them, soccer playing athlete, with lots of friends, he's a thoughtful, thinker who genuinely cares what you think of him and his actions.





Jill - 15 year old, (younger twin), high school sophomore, stellar grades and makes it look effortless, athletic, but has never settled on a favorite as she didn't take to dance and didn't want to compete in gymnastics, she's trying soccer this year. she has a tight knit group of three girls that do everything together and yet all maintain unique individuality.

Blake - 12 year old, middle school senior( 8th grade), my dearest baby(I can't lie...it was him and me against the world for his first 3 years), mediocre grades, struggles to get done with his homework fast enough so there's more time for sports, he plays basketball and soccer but LOVES anything sports related and is training to be the next Schwab.

And as for me... well, um, ...I don't know. I was never taught how to think for myself, or to trust and accept my likes and dislikes as being acceptable. It was always about "fitting in", or belonging". I don't know myself, actually, and I'd kinda like to. I want to find my voice now, I want to live my life rather than letting life happen to me. That's what's happening here...I'm discovering I like commas and my spell checker likes to point out that I don't like apostrophes ...here Ill chronicle my letting go of the apostrophe even if my spell checker doesnt like it.

Pay it Forward

Here we go!


Diwriter set up a pay it forward contest and picked me! YIPPEE! That girl has got some fierce knitting skillz. One would think, that after many years of friendship and my total failure to understand how you can actually use two pointy sticks and a piece of string to make something pretty, she'd have made something for me (even, if only, so she could stick her tongue out at me and my lack of skillz)...but alas and alack, nothing. Now she has to make me something (sticking my tongue out at Diwriter). I'll probably get a doodle on a used napkin after teasing her this way!


I'm not totally without my own skillz, I can crochet, I can do laundry, I can maintain a modicum of sanity with a houseful of teenagers (or at the very least a facade of sanity) .



So with that said...I don't know if you're gonna get, something home made? freshly laundered? maybe I'll just send you a kid. Tell me your skillz, I wanna know what else is out there to do besides laundry! First 3 win!

Crazy Life

It would seem that I'm being taken up on my offer to host my daughters volleyball team party! YIKES!


It was during the pre-season parents meeting/pep rally, I don't know what came over me, I was just so proud of my daughter, getting picked for the varsity team, and, well, I guess I got caught up in the moment. We had some scheduling conflicts (stalling?) trying to pick a date at the meeting and then it just kinda slipped from my mind.

My husband calls me at work the other day and simply says "October 17th." I had no clue what he was talking about.

He said "you know, for the party."

"What party?"

"The one you offered to host, at that meeting I couldn't go to."

"Oh... yeah... right...that."



So now we get to planning, I have a huge week at work,

- union meeting tomorrow night,

- Commission meeting Wednesday,

- Town hall meeting Thursday,

- political sign waving on street corners on Friday evening, closely followed by a meeting at the middle school about the 8th grade D.C. Trip.

and

all this fun gets wrapped up nicely with a 45 minute drive to get my mother from the airport on Saturday...at MIDNIGHT!

and that's all in addition to the usual...4 soccer practices for 2 boys, Volleyball practice every day( no late bus at our school), key club pumpkin patch, and I have no idea when the next orthodontist appointment is ( I lost the card) I have a sneaking feeling it's this week.



... Damn, who told my mother she could go away this week. I need drivers!
Maybe I can charm her into helping with the party plans...she loves that stuff

Shout Out to My Roots

You Might Be From Long Island If…" By David Strauss and Evan Goldstein.


I did edit this a bit I took out all the references to sports( I didn't get them)and the ones that belong in "you know you grew up in the 80's when..."

Half your senior class worked at Roosevelt Field.

NCC may be 13th grade, but heck, Playboy voted them the best looking college girls in America. And Hofstra sucks.

You know the exact point at which Queens turns into Nassau simply on intuition.

You love the Glen Curtis Boulevard, and use it every time you visit the Coliseum.

Four words: United Skates of America.

You grew up thinking Chinese food was a basic food group.

You know that the EAB tree is such an attempt to become Manhattan, but you go out for the ceremony every year anyway.

Oh, your parents are from Brooklyn? So are mine!

After seeing a movie, you remembering spending hours deciding what to do afterwards, then ending up at the diner since nothing else was still open.

Yes, admit it, you've cruised the Pike.

You can pinpoint the day that you realized that Adventureland sucks. You are nearing the day that you realize that Great Adventure sucks.

You remember when you'd rather walk than take the late bus.

You think that High School sports just aren't that important.

You know where the Coliseum Motor Inn is, but you've never actually stayed there. You know someone who stayed at the Commack Motor Inn after Prom.

You've sat around on New Year's thinking: "Times Square, or something lame? Times Square, or something lame? Oh, what the hell, something lame."

You once ditched school and went to Eisenhower Park or Jones Beach.

You've tried to find the Amityville horror house.

You've gotten a Slurpy in the winter.

You remember where you were May 24, 1980, at 7:11 of Overtime.

You remember when Newsday first added color to Part II.

You have cursed at the monopoly that is Cablevision.

You've argued with your city friends over whether LILCO is worse than Con Ed.

You know the many advantages and disadvantages of LaGuardia vs. Kennedy, and once you actually schlepped out to Islip.

Long Island Voice? Why the hell would I want that? Oh, it's free? Gimme two. And a couple of those Island-Ears too.

The most exciting day of your summer was when tickets to every Jones Beach show went on sale. You used to camp out at Ticketron for them.

Your elementary school promoted dodge ball as the top gym activity. (That's gym, not P.E.)

Loews? Sony? Loews? Sony?

You don't remember why, but you actually ate at White Castle that night after all those beers.

You can spout off all the LIRR stops between Penn Station and Seaford.

You get a wave of nostalgia when someone mentions Nunley's.

Two words: Safety Town.

You accept without question the East Meadow triangle: a nice school, a nice hospital and a nice maximum security prison.

You know the back way out of the Jones Beach theater.


You remember WDRE, but complain that the original WLIR was better in the mid-80s anyway.

Fall

I miss the autumn season, I do appreciate Florida for all the uniqueness that it is (and the freaks it's home to), but, I miss Fall.


The rest of the U.S. is talking about fall decor, you show me pictures of your kids wearing long sleeves and pants, and I'm stuck with highs in the 90's and lows in the upper 70's. I do appreciate the weather come full-on winter...but I miss Fall.


Growing up on Long Island, for Halloween, you had to make sure a coat would fit under your costume, now I make sure my kids won't get too hot (the full body Elmo of 8 years ago was a HUGE mistake) and stay properly hydrated. I can't buy pumpkins for the front porch too early or they rot too fast, and the smell of a cinnamon broom in the sunny front window, of a shop, on a 90 degree day is nauseating. I miss wearing a sweatshirt with shorts, the damp, earthy smell of piles of fallen leaves. I miss fall produce stands and apples fresh off the tree.



I think I'm gonna go to the attic (maybe in the evening, or early morning, you have no earthly idea how hot it is up there) on my next day off and make some Fall happen at my house. To heck with the temperature outside, I had to give up Fall to get 7 months of summer, I can live with that, at least I can visit Fall by coming to see you!





I don't know where this came from and I deleted a lot of it as unrecognizable to anyone not from Florida but I though I'd share some of what I got for giving up Fall.



You might be a Floridian if...


"Down South" means Key West.


"Panhandling" means going to Pensacola.


Flip-flops are everyday wear. Shoes are for business meetings and church. No, wait, flip flops are good for church too.


Socks are only for bowling.


Orange juice from concentrate makes you vomit.


Tap water makes you vomit.


An alligator once walked through your neighborhood.


You measure distance in minutes.


You have a drawer full of bathing suits...and one sweatshirt.


You HATE the tourists who feed seagulls.


You never use an umbrella because you know the rain will be over in five minutes.


All the local festivals are named after a fruit.


A good parking place has nothing to do with distance from the store, but everything to do with shade.


Your winter coat is made of denim.


You can tell the difference between fire ant bites and mosquito bites.


You know the four seasons really are: almost summer, summer, not summer but really hot and Christmas.


You also take note of the other seasons: Love bug season, hurricane season and snowbird season.


Anything under 70 is chilly.


You've hosted a hurricane party.


You pass on the right and honk at the elderly.


You understand why it's better to have a friend with a boat than have a boat yourself.


You've worn shorts and used the A/C on Christmas.


You have to drive north to get to The South.


You know that anything under a Category 3 just isn't worth waking up for-but your electricity WILL go out!!!!


You are on a first name basis with the Hurricane list. They aren't Hurricane Charley, Hurricane Frances...but Charley , Frances , Ivan and Jeanne.


You know why flamingos are pink.


You think a six-foot alligator is actually pretty average.

You know what? I think I kinda like it here.