June, huh? That sure was a long time ago.
More to come soon...
17 October 2009
25 June 2009
Farewell MJ
I figured with the news of Michael Jackson's death, now was as good a time as any to return to the blogosphere.
In elementary school, I was a huge MJ maniac. Posters covered every inch of my wall. (Of course, this was before NKOTB came onto the scene and dethroned Jackson for me.) The summer I turned 10, my right arm was in a cast up to my shoulder, an odd and ill-timed biking accident. (I was trying to do a skid in the left-over winter street sand on a three-speed.) A couple of days after my accident, a flower-delivery truck pulled up in front of our old house on Pinnery Avenue. The doorbell rang. A man was standing there with a basket or bouquet of flowers - I can't remember what variety - and a brown paper bag. My mother said they were for me.
I opened the little card attached to the flowers and nearly dropped dead:
"I was very sorry to hear about your accident." - Michel Jackson.
That is not a typo, that is exactly how the card was signed, and, being almost 10 years old, it didn't tip me off as to its validity.
And as if flowers from The King of Pop weren't enough, when I peered into the brown paper bag (again, the fact that these items were delivered to me in true wino fashion did not raise a red flag), I nearly lost my mind. A pair of starch-white socks with glittery speckles and a single white glove. I went to my room and slipped them on, Michael in his yellow sweater vest and bow tie looking on.
I think I might still have that glove, somewhere. I definitely have the card.
The cast came off shortly before my tenth birthday, but my love for Michael lived on. At my MJ-themed party, my girl friends and I huddled in the living room and watched Thriller for the first time, two years after it's debut. Then we made an ill attempt at the Thriller dance in the yard and admired my Michael Jackson cake - the image of him, again, in his yellow sweater vest, almost too beautiful to eat. But we were 10, and hungry. It was one of the best birthdays ever.
Don't know if you did what they say you did, but rest in peace, MJ.
My Top 10 Favorite Michael Jackson songs, in no particular order. :
1) Thriller
2) The Girl is Mine (with Paul McCartney)
3) PYT - Pretty Young Thing
4) Beat It (because my little brother used to break dance on top of the washing machine to this song).
5) The theme song to the movie, Free Willy.
6) Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough
7) Billie Jean
8) The Way You Make Me Feel
9) Wanna Be Startin' Something
10) Smooth Criminal
In elementary school, I was a huge MJ maniac. Posters covered every inch of my wall. (Of course, this was before NKOTB came onto the scene and dethroned Jackson for me.) The summer I turned 10, my right arm was in a cast up to my shoulder, an odd and ill-timed biking accident. (I was trying to do a skid in the left-over winter street sand on a three-speed.) A couple of days after my accident, a flower-delivery truck pulled up in front of our old house on Pinnery Avenue. The doorbell rang. A man was standing there with a basket or bouquet of flowers - I can't remember what variety - and a brown paper bag. My mother said they were for me.
I opened the little card attached to the flowers and nearly dropped dead:
"I was very sorry to hear about your accident." - Michel Jackson.
That is not a typo, that is exactly how the card was signed, and, being almost 10 years old, it didn't tip me off as to its validity.
And as if flowers from The King of Pop weren't enough, when I peered into the brown paper bag (again, the fact that these items were delivered to me in true wino fashion did not raise a red flag), I nearly lost my mind. A pair of starch-white socks with glittery speckles and a single white glove. I went to my room and slipped them on, Michael in his yellow sweater vest and bow tie looking on.
I think I might still have that glove, somewhere. I definitely have the card.
The cast came off shortly before my tenth birthday, but my love for Michael lived on. At my MJ-themed party, my girl friends and I huddled in the living room and watched Thriller for the first time, two years after it's debut. Then we made an ill attempt at the Thriller dance in the yard and admired my Michael Jackson cake - the image of him, again, in his yellow sweater vest, almost too beautiful to eat. But we were 10, and hungry. It was one of the best birthdays ever.
Don't know if you did what they say you did, but rest in peace, MJ.
My Top 10 Favorite Michael Jackson songs, in no particular order. :
1) Thriller
2) The Girl is Mine (with Paul McCartney)
3) PYT - Pretty Young Thing
4) Beat It (because my little brother used to break dance on top of the washing machine to this song).
5) The theme song to the movie, Free Willy.
6) Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough
7) Billie Jean
8) The Way You Make Me Feel
9) Wanna Be Startin' Something
10) Smooth Criminal
24 March 2009
He's Here!
Colin Richard Curran
Born 3/19/09; 9:27pm
7 lbs 4 oz
Black hair; blue eyes
22 hours of labor ensued; VBAC failed; born via c-section; result the same: a beautiful baby boy!
14 March 2009
The Waiting Game
If I had stuck to the plan, baby #2 would be here, already a ripe 36 hours old. BUT, being an indecisive person, and one who waits until the final possible moment to switch things up, I postponed my repeat cesarean until NEXT Friday. I wanted to give him a chance to come on his own, but was too chicken to make the full commitment to the VBAC.
Now, of course, I am terrified that I will go into labor. It's almost like I am having a baby for the first time.
Because I never really went into labor before they had to perform emergency surgery the first time, I haven't a clue what to expect should I go into labor this time. But I have to lay in the bed I have made. So now we are just playing the waiting game.
In any event, baby Curran will be here by Friday, March 20, regardless of the method in which he makes it into this world.
Now, of course, I am terrified that I will go into labor. It's almost like I am having a baby for the first time.
Because I never really went into labor before they had to perform emergency surgery the first time, I haven't a clue what to expect should I go into labor this time. But I have to lay in the bed I have made. So now we are just playing the waiting game.
In any event, baby Curran will be here by Friday, March 20, regardless of the method in which he makes it into this world.
04 March 2009
25 Facts About This Pregnancy
In just 9 days, a new baby will be born into this family. In the spirit of all those "25 things" notes going around on Facebook, I decided to give you, "25 Facts Surrounding My Second Pregnancy and Second Child." In no particular order, here they are.
1. Due Date: March 20; Planned C-Section: March 13
2. It's a boy!
3. For some reason, I feel incredibly guilty about above-mentioned C-section. Perhaps because I can't seem to get away from all the inferences that I should not be having a C-section.
4. I keep a bottle of Tums tucked underneath my pillow all times. The heartburn and reflux are so bad this time around, it's like a ball of liquid fire in my throat. Perhaps the Heartburn Fairy will come and take it away and leave in its place the $222 million winning lottery ticket.
5. Despite my best intentions, and the fact that I went to the gym through my 8th month, I still gained too much weight.
6. I am currently at the stage when my appendages resemble overstuffed sausages.
7. The good news: I was able to wear my wedding rings through month 8; last time I made it only to month 3.
8. Another piece of good news: During my last pregnancy, we were new in town, and our local friends were few and far between. This time, I have a good group of friends to help maintain my sanity.
9. I have learned that perfection is impossible: sometimes good enough is enough.
10. Nine days to go, and the nursery is not done. See #8.
11. I will not go into depression mode if I cannot breastfeed. I hope.
12. Last night I cried - full on sobbing - because my first-born wanted to play and I am too fat to get on the floor with him.
13. None of my maternity clothes fit me anymore; I am relegated to the house wearing husband's sweat pants and maternity half-shirts.
14. Monthly Napa Valley wine shipments: $90 per month; a full wine cabinet due to husband's 9-month wine abstinence: priceless!
15. We have decided to keep the name (mostly) secret until the baby is born. So don't even ask!
16. THIS time, I will send out cutesy birth announcements. Who said it's the second child who always gets the short end of the stick.
17. I cannot wait to see Braedan's face the first time he sees his new baby brother...
18. However, I am prepared for my son's adverse reaction once he realizes his brother is here to stay, and is not some myth we have been talking up for 9 months. "When does he go back?" "I liked it when it was just me and you" and "I don't want to be a big brother anymore" are all remarks I fully expect to have to deal with.
19. I am already dreading the grocery bill that will come as a result of living with three males.
20. I need to come up with a plan of attack for losing weight once the baby is born. Step 1: Quit eating so much.
21. I have been told by even the most driven of my friends that I am crazy for not taking any time off my part-time, work-from-home editing/writing job once the baby is born.
22. Thank goodness we now have digital cable and DVR.
23. To videotape or not to videotape? That is the question.
24. For a week now, husband has been asking me to pack a bag. I still have yet to do it.
25. I am secretly (well, not anymore) hoping that I go into labor before next Friday!
1. Due Date: March 20; Planned C-Section: March 13
2. It's a boy!
3. For some reason, I feel incredibly guilty about above-mentioned C-section. Perhaps because I can't seem to get away from all the inferences that I should not be having a C-section.
4. I keep a bottle of Tums tucked underneath my pillow all times. The heartburn and reflux are so bad this time around, it's like a ball of liquid fire in my throat. Perhaps the Heartburn Fairy will come and take it away and leave in its place the $222 million winning lottery ticket.
5. Despite my best intentions, and the fact that I went to the gym through my 8th month, I still gained too much weight.
6. I am currently at the stage when my appendages resemble overstuffed sausages.
7. The good news: I was able to wear my wedding rings through month 8; last time I made it only to month 3.
8. Another piece of good news: During my last pregnancy, we were new in town, and our local friends were few and far between. This time, I have a good group of friends to help maintain my sanity.
9. I have learned that perfection is impossible: sometimes good enough is enough.
10. Nine days to go, and the nursery is not done. See #8.
11. I will not go into depression mode if I cannot breastfeed. I hope.
12. Last night I cried - full on sobbing - because my first-born wanted to play and I am too fat to get on the floor with him.
13. None of my maternity clothes fit me anymore; I am relegated to the house wearing husband's sweat pants and maternity half-shirts.
14. Monthly Napa Valley wine shipments: $90 per month; a full wine cabinet due to husband's 9-month wine abstinence: priceless!
15. We have decided to keep the name (mostly) secret until the baby is born. So don't even ask!
16. THIS time, I will send out cutesy birth announcements. Who said it's the second child who always gets the short end of the stick.
17. I cannot wait to see Braedan's face the first time he sees his new baby brother...
18. However, I am prepared for my son's adverse reaction once he realizes his brother is here to stay, and is not some myth we have been talking up for 9 months. "When does he go back?" "I liked it when it was just me and you" and "I don't want to be a big brother anymore" are all remarks I fully expect to have to deal with.
19. I am already dreading the grocery bill that will come as a result of living with three males.
20. I need to come up with a plan of attack for losing weight once the baby is born. Step 1: Quit eating so much.
21. I have been told by even the most driven of my friends that I am crazy for not taking any time off my part-time, work-from-home editing/writing job once the baby is born.
22. Thank goodness we now have digital cable and DVR.
23. To videotape or not to videotape? That is the question.
24. For a week now, husband has been asking me to pack a bag. I still have yet to do it.
25. I am secretly (well, not anymore) hoping that I go into labor before next Friday!
21 January 2009
Saddened
Recently, an acquaintance of mine - a fellow blogger; a famously talented, funny, poignant and cool chick - was diagnosed with a terrible disease. Breast Cancer. When I first read the news on her blog, I cried. How could this happen to such a vibrant, YOUNG woman, the mother of two adorable little kids, whose exploits and escapades are painstakingly and hilariously outlined on her blog (along with those of their slightly overweight pooch, Vito).
We don't know each other well - at all. I think I have met Kate only once, but, I have long since admired her for her incredible ability for the written word. (Seriously, Kate, you NEED to write a book.) For reasons beyond my understanding, her diagnosis has hit me rather hard. Perhaps it is because we are roughly the same age (and not to mention beautiful and talented). Maybe it's because I have read about her healthy eating and yoga habits, and thought to myself, "This is enough." Or maybe it's because, despite my assertion that "so many women" seem to get breast cancer, I have never really known someone personally who has been diagnosed with it. And if I had to guess, I never, IN A MILLION YEARS, would have guessed this woman would get breast cancer.
Now, I have one more reason to admire Kate. On her blog, she has, with a sense of humor I do not think I would have the strength to muster, openly discussed her discovery, diagnosis and intimate thoughts of the "palpable mass" she herself discovered while playing with her daughter. Again, while I don't know Kate well at all, I said to our mutual friend that if anyone can get through it, it's Kate. I just know this. I feel it because I can sense it through her words. She has a strength and an outlook on life that is unmatched by anyone I have before met.
Thinking of you and your family, Kate. And knowing you will battle breast cancer - and WIN.
We don't know each other well - at all. I think I have met Kate only once, but, I have long since admired her for her incredible ability for the written word. (Seriously, Kate, you NEED to write a book.) For reasons beyond my understanding, her diagnosis has hit me rather hard. Perhaps it is because we are roughly the same age (and not to mention beautiful and talented). Maybe it's because I have read about her healthy eating and yoga habits, and thought to myself, "This is enough." Or maybe it's because, despite my assertion that "so many women" seem to get breast cancer, I have never really known someone personally who has been diagnosed with it. And if I had to guess, I never, IN A MILLION YEARS, would have guessed this woman would get breast cancer.
Now, I have one more reason to admire Kate. On her blog, she has, with a sense of humor I do not think I would have the strength to muster, openly discussed her discovery, diagnosis and intimate thoughts of the "palpable mass" she herself discovered while playing with her daughter. Again, while I don't know Kate well at all, I said to our mutual friend that if anyone can get through it, it's Kate. I just know this. I feel it because I can sense it through her words. She has a strength and an outlook on life that is unmatched by anyone I have before met.
Thinking of you and your family, Kate. And knowing you will battle breast cancer - and WIN.
30 December 2008
Oh Boy!
The new addition to our family - due March 20 - is a boy!
Oh, boy.....
One female in a house full of males! We definitely have to try for the girl!
Happy New Year!
Oh, boy.....
One female in a house full of males! We definitely have to try for the girl!
Happy New Year!
18 November 2008
How's This for Irony
For months, Americans, including me, have been complaining about gas prices. Now that they're dropping, isn't it just like an Amerian, namely me, to become annoyed at the fact that it took so long to put $20 worth of gas in the tank this morning.
05 October 2008
Can we say H-O-C-K-E-Y?
They said it couldn't be done. A 3-year-old learning to skate on hockey skates! Blah, blah, blah. B is doing great, and today, during public skating, the little bruiser kept banging into the boards on purpose, leaving the impression that he has an innate desire to play hockey, for which his father, a former college hockey player, would be very glad.
I was wrong about ONE thing, then. Maybe Sarah Palin and I DO have something in common. You betcha! Wink wink.
22 September 2008
The Second Phase
I am officially into the second trimester of my pregnancy, which would explain why I am up at 5 in the morning eating honey roasted peanuts and posting to my blog.
I didn't have the knock-down, drag-out first trimester that many women seem to experience. In fact, many times, I forgot I was pregnant.
The beginning of the second trimester, at least for me, is a little tricky. Sure, I feel less tired. But I am at the point where I don't yet look pregnant, just fatter. My regular clothes don't fit. But maternity clothes look and feel ridiculous. I am currently a walking contradiction.
I have vowed this time not to gain the highly embarrassing amount of weight I put on with my first (50 pounds). For the love of all things holy, I hope I can stick to that promise. But the chocolate Ganache cake at Praline's is constantly calling my name and I cannot hide the fact that over two days, I nearly polished off a whole bag of lime-flavored tortillas. Damn, those things are good. And I think there are a few crumbs left in the pantry.
I am, I must admit, a bit nervous about this new being that will soon be in our lives. After all, it's been three years. We are in a comfortable routine now and I honestly have a hard time envisioning it being cosmically altered by a tiny, crying, feed-me-every-two-hours baby. On the flip side, I could not be more excited about this tiny, crying, feed-me-every-two-hours baby that will soon change our comfortable life. I always pictured a four- (dare I say 5?) member family. And to experience all those "firsts" again is indeed exciting. First smile. First laugh. First step. First word. The first time that tiny person says, "I love you."
Only 25 weeks more to go.
I didn't have the knock-down, drag-out first trimester that many women seem to experience. In fact, many times, I forgot I was pregnant.
The beginning of the second trimester, at least for me, is a little tricky. Sure, I feel less tired. But I am at the point where I don't yet look pregnant, just fatter. My regular clothes don't fit. But maternity clothes look and feel ridiculous. I am currently a walking contradiction.
I have vowed this time not to gain the highly embarrassing amount of weight I put on with my first (50 pounds). For the love of all things holy, I hope I can stick to that promise. But the chocolate Ganache cake at Praline's is constantly calling my name and I cannot hide the fact that over two days, I nearly polished off a whole bag of lime-flavored tortillas. Damn, those things are good. And I think there are a few crumbs left in the pantry.
I am, I must admit, a bit nervous about this new being that will soon be in our lives. After all, it's been three years. We are in a comfortable routine now and I honestly have a hard time envisioning it being cosmically altered by a tiny, crying, feed-me-every-two-hours baby. On the flip side, I could not be more excited about this tiny, crying, feed-me-every-two-hours baby that will soon change our comfortable life. I always pictured a four- (dare I say 5?) member family. And to experience all those "firsts" again is indeed exciting. First smile. First laugh. First step. First word. The first time that tiny person says, "I love you."
Only 25 weeks more to go.
11 September 2008
08 September 2008
Torn ACL???!!!
Thanks to Rich's recent injury, I already know all I need to know about torn ACL's. But the rest of Patriot's Nation will be clued in to that all-important ligament that stabilizes the knee as it has been confirmed that Pats' Quarterback Tom Brady in fact tore his ACL during today's game against Kansas City. I dare not print here the language that was flying through the air at my house this afternoon, but suffice it to say, it was not a happy household. Of course, the Pats won behind Matt Cassel, but now the rest of the season is currently up in the air.
Are you ready for some football? Sundays will not be happy days in this house for the foreseeable future....
Are you ready for some football? Sundays will not be happy days in this house for the foreseeable future....
01 September 2008
End of Summer...Off to School
Beach and barbecue. That's how we spent the first half of this, the unofficial last weekend of summer.
Then yesterday, we made the first of what I expect to be many pilgrimages to Kittery, to do some back-to-school, or should I say, off-to-school shopping. Our little boy starts preschool this year, and it seems like only yesterday that he was spitting up on my shoulder and waking every two hours in the middle of the night to be fed. Now he's in a big-boy bed, in a big boy room, and, in exactly one week, will walk through the doors of Mrs. Murray's Nursery School for the first time as a student. I will be out in the parking lot, smiling through my tears.
It's a sad and joyous time.
Happy Back to School!
27 August 2008
Hero For the Day
I would like to think I am a dog person. But I'm not. I cringe at the thought of hair on my furniture. I practically hyperventilate when I think of wet doggy paws tramping through my house. Nevermind the mess you have to go through when training a puppy. It was hard enough potty training my son.
So, why then, was I disappointed when an email - complete with heart-wrenching photos - soliciting takers for abandoned puppies turned out to be a joke? Perhaps it was their big, doggy-brown eyes. Or the shattered image of my son frolicking through the yard with a puppy. In the end, though, I think I like the idea of a dog, rather than the actual thing itself. Because when, after our initial disappointment we started researching yellow lab breeders, I became less excited at the prospect of adding a canine member to the family, and more frantic. Did we have the time to train, discipline and love this new member of our family? Would the dog a have an adequate, fenced-in yard? Would we pass the breeder's 10-point potential dog-owner inspection ? No. No. And hells no. I just didn't think we could hack it. At least not now, when we are expecting baby #2.
My point is, I am one of those people who thinks she is an animal person, but is really not, at least not if that animal has to reside in my house.
However, today at Salisbury Beach, I witnessed something that really pulled on my heart strings. An injured seagull. A seagull of all things! The damn bird went into my beach bag, pulled out a giant-sized bag of Gold Fish, flaunted them around the sand and still I could not help but be concerned about the fishing wire and lure wrapped tightly around its legs, inhibiting his gait. The poor thing must have been starving. Had it not been for the flock of seagulls (not the musical group, but an actual flock of birds) circling overhead, I would have given up the Fish, though it would have been much to the chagrin of my three-year-old, Gold Fish-obsessed son. Anyway, my friends and I hemmed and hawed for a bit, wondering what to do, while the injured seagull squawked and squawked and made itself comfortable in the sand. Poor thing. I wish there was something we could do. I'd cut if free myself if I could. Finally, my friend, and new hero, Kristen D., made her way to the lifeguard chair. A few minutes later, not one, but three lifeguards accompanied her back to where we were set up on the beach, and waited while a naturalist/wildlife expert made his way over in his Gator. He asked for a handful of Gold Fish. I dumped them in his gloved hand and he tossed them into the air. Seagulls swarmed from everywhere. Our injured seagull was in the middle of the pack. In a flash, the guy dove and took hold of the fishing wire-entwined bird. Five minutes later, the seagull was cut free and thrown to the wind, his wings spread wide. The gathered crowd cheered. And we watched as he landed in the ocean and darted around the water. If a seagull can look happy, this one definitely was.
So, here's to you Mrs. I Save Seagulls Wrapped in Fishing Wire. Here's to a job well done. May humans and seagulls everywhere take heart and live in harmony.
21 August 2008
On Hiatus
It's true. I've been on a blog hiatus for almost a month now.
It just seemed that lately I haven't had much to say, nor the time to say it. Once my mind is free and clear of pressing issues, I shall return.
Read what fellow blogger KJ wrote about "rotational neglect." I am taking my cue from her.
Be back in a couple of weeks.
It just seemed that lately I haven't had much to say, nor the time to say it. Once my mind is free and clear of pressing issues, I shall return.
Read what fellow blogger KJ wrote about "rotational neglect." I am taking my cue from her.
Be back in a couple of weeks.
28 July 2008
Yankee Homecoming
I know "townies" hate it. But I live here - yes, I know that DOESN'T make me a townie - and I actually enjoy YH. Pancake breakfast, music on the green, antique cars, balloon twisters, fresh-squeezed lemonade, penny candy, a fireman's muster. How can you go wrong at Old Fashioned Sunday?
Anyway, for those of you fellow Newburyporters who braved the "dreaded" tourists yesterday, hopefully you gathered up the kids, got blueberries in your pancakes, took a plunge in the dunk tank, rode around the Mall on the train and felt easy like Sunday morning.
Some pics.
Anyway, for those of you fellow Newburyporters who braved the "dreaded" tourists yesterday, hopefully you gathered up the kids, got blueberries in your pancakes, took a plunge in the dunk tank, rode around the Mall on the train and felt easy like Sunday morning.
Some pics.
17 July 2008
Greenhead Alert!
I know they've been here for days now. But early this morning, my son and I headed drove over to Plum Island for a little early morning beach action. I mistakingly thought that being 7:45am, those pesky greenheads might still be in a restful slumber. Wrong. If we walked, it wasn't that bad. But of course being 3, my son wanted to stop and fill his pockets with shells and examine seaweed on the beach. We walked a ways, but then even the act of moving didn't stop them from biting at our legs and arms. And those f'ers hurt! We had to hustle it back to the car, where we drove off the island with the windows up.
Yikes!
But the surf sure was beautiful.
01 July 2008
On Anger
I'm angry that the Internet is slow. At the housing marking. That all my kitchen towels are dirty and every time I reach for a paper towel, I am acutely aware of my actions on Global Warming. I am angry that my son pooped in his underwear. Despite months of being potty trained. I am angry that he poured parmesan cheese all over the family room carpet. I am angry at rising gas prices. That our windows don't open wide enough to put conventional air conditioners in the house. That we signed a contract today for an inordinate amount of money to have one of said windows replaced. That even though I cleaned until 9:30 last night, my house still looks like a tornado swept through, favoring the rooms with the highest need for cleanliness: the kitchen and bathroom. That my dehumidifier is full....again. That I have to do laundry. At all. I am angry that I am dead tired after a workout at the gym. I thought it was supposed to leave you feeling "energized." I am angry that after 12 years, I still haven't written the next Great American Novel. That despite multiple promises to do so, I still haven't managed to be "ahead of the game" with my deadlines. I am angry that when it's hot and muggy, my feet stick to the floor. I am angry that I spent time organizing my son's matchbox cars, and they were all over the floor within 10 minutes of him waking. That I have insomnia. That I'm not pregnant yet. That I might be pregnant. I am angry that my neighbor somehow purposely altered his Chevy Blazer to be 10 times louder than it should be. That we have no grass in our yard. I am angry that I haven't posted since June 4. At those damn word verifications that, on a Mac, never go through the first time.
I think that's it. Oh no. One more thing. I am angry that I spent so much time today being angry. Today I nearly busted out of my clothes, turned green and wreaked havoc on unsuspecting victims. I needed to vent. Thanks.
04 June 2008
Garden of Last Days
I am very excited for Andre Dubus III's new book, Garden of Last Days to come out this month.
Ever since I read House of Sand and Fog and Bluesman, I get a bit star-dazed when I see him at the gym. (He lives in the next town over from me.) But it also reminds me that writers are regular people, and that perhaps, someday, I'll be a best-selling author going to the gym.
Anyway, check out this video to get the low-down on the new book, which I'll be reviewing for Merrimack Valley Magazine.
Ever since I read House of Sand and Fog and Bluesman, I get a bit star-dazed when I see him at the gym. (He lives in the next town over from me.) But it also reminds me that writers are regular people, and that perhaps, someday, I'll be a best-selling author going to the gym.
Anyway, check out this video to get the low-down on the new book, which I'll be reviewing for Merrimack Valley Magazine.
02 June 2008
To the hip-hop, you don't stop
We Did Survive!
(By Michelle "Gloria Gaynor" Curran.)
At first we were afraid,
We were petrified.
Kept thinking we could never dance
We wanted just to hide.
Then we got up there on stage and the curtain opened up
And we said whassup!!???
And then we kicked some hip-hop butt.....
We did it! My two friends and I survived our hip-hop recital yesterday afternoon. After weeks of agonizing about getting up there on stage and shaking our 30-something bodies in front of hundreds of people, it's over. For me, it was kind of an out-of-body experience. For hours before the show, I felt as if I was going to puke my guts out. I was going to get up on stage and forget the whole damn thing, leaving my girls in the lurch. Fortunately, Rich and I had formulated a plan beforehand. Should I have forgotten the moves, the plan was to do the moon-walk back and forth across the stage until the song was over. Even more fortunate, I didn't need to go to plan B. I remembered everything and actually (and perhaps shamefully) enjoyed it. I had fun. I smiled for the audience, whom thankfully I couldn't see thanks to the glaring spotlights. There were no mishaps and we didn't get laughed or booed off the stage. And our husbands luckily left before the humiliating finale in which we received medals and had to sing for the audience.
And after all the complaining I did about class and rehearsals and costumes, I will probably do it again next year. I think I may have found my true calling. Show business.
Thanks to our crazy-whack-funky (and super talented) dance teacher April Nicoll, who should not be teaching the likes of us to dance, but should be dancing herself. She actually encouraged me NOT to quit, for which I am ultimately glad.
Breaking News Update: Stay tuned for a clip of our performance in the coming weeks.
(By Michelle "Gloria Gaynor" Curran.)
At first we were afraid,
We were petrified.
Kept thinking we could never dance
We wanted just to hide.
Then we got up there on stage and the curtain opened up
And we said whassup!!???
And then we kicked some hip-hop butt.....
We did it! My two friends and I survived our hip-hop recital yesterday afternoon. After weeks of agonizing about getting up there on stage and shaking our 30-something bodies in front of hundreds of people, it's over. For me, it was kind of an out-of-body experience. For hours before the show, I felt as if I was going to puke my guts out. I was going to get up on stage and forget the whole damn thing, leaving my girls in the lurch. Fortunately, Rich and I had formulated a plan beforehand. Should I have forgotten the moves, the plan was to do the moon-walk back and forth across the stage until the song was over. Even more fortunate, I didn't need to go to plan B. I remembered everything and actually (and perhaps shamefully) enjoyed it. I had fun. I smiled for the audience, whom thankfully I couldn't see thanks to the glaring spotlights. There were no mishaps and we didn't get laughed or booed off the stage. And our husbands luckily left before the humiliating finale in which we received medals and had to sing for the audience.
And after all the complaining I did about class and rehearsals and costumes, I will probably do it again next year. I think I may have found my true calling. Show business.
Thanks to our crazy-whack-funky (and super talented) dance teacher April Nicoll, who should not be teaching the likes of us to dance, but should be dancing herself. She actually encouraged me NOT to quit, for which I am ultimately glad.
Breaking News Update: Stay tuned for a clip of our performance in the coming weeks.
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