t w e n t y e v e r y t h i n g

So here I am, back from what easily was among the best weeks of my life, sitting at my desk, wishing I was 400 miles away in the foothills of the Berkshires. I've abandoned my sneakers and flipflops, stored my t-shirts and jeans, put the bug spray back on the shelf and unsuccessfully tried to return to my "normal" everyday life.

It's been the same scenario for the past six years. And while I have grown used to it, it seems to get harder and harder each year.

The week was incredible. The kids were absolutely amazing. I am exhausted and suffering from my usual post-camp depression and cold. And I would give anything to still be at camp.

When camp week is over, people always ask me how it was - inquire as to the health of the campers - remark about how sad it must be - tragic, really - to spend a week surrounded by kids who have or currently are fighting cancer. My first few years at camp I was right there with these folks. Being in the presence of so many innocent kids who have already faced their own mortality can be overpowering and saddening. But, as I have come to learn over the years, it can also be the most incredibly inspiring experience.

Don't get me wrong - there were plenty of tears. But they were far, far outnumbered by the laughs and the smiles. And the hugs.

This is a place of hope.

Of acceptance.

Of laughter

and unconditional love.

One where smooth heads signify a common journey

and scars mark one's true strength.

It's a place unlike any other.

One, where for many, things don't ever seem fair.

But you won't hear anyone complaining

because they are too busy laughing.

 

It might just be the happiest place on earth.

No words, just pictures

The nephew: a photo montage

happy almost first birthday Lincoln Xavier! Love, Auntie Liz

A week late...

Mother's Day was last Sunday. It's kind of an obvious statement. The plethora of advertisements and consumer-driven attention to this holiday make it virtually impossible to ignore or overlook. I usually wax nostalgic a bit on the second Sunday in May, or at least, for the past six years or so. That's about as long as it has been since I have actually been at home and in the company of my "mothers" on this Hallmark holiday.

I think this year it might have hit the hardest. I watched my friends whose moms are local take them out to dinner, an O's game, lunch, brunch, etc. My mom got a card in the mail and a phone call. And you know what? It definitely did not feel like nearly enough.

I don't mean that I felt badly about not sending a gift - there's not much that my mom needs materially. It's more that I felt that I should be there. There to celebrate all she has done for me over the years - her role as my best friend - as the one person on this earth who would literally die if it meant that I would live - the one who when she looks at me sees someone perfect and without fault. She is my mother and her love is truly unconditional.

There have been times when I have taken advantage of this fact. Times when I have taken anger out on her that should have been directed elsewhere because I knew that she would brush it off. That she wouldn't resent or think less of me for it. Because, in the end, she's my mom.

As I have grown older, I have grown to appreciate her more and more. I feel great sadness when I leave her after a weekend visit and know that if I lived closer, I would see her much more often. This leads into the obvious question of why aren't I living closer? My internal response of "I will in a few years" only leads into "What if we don't have a few years?" What would I do if she was taken from me tomorrow and the future never came? I know my guilt would be endless and that plays almost daily on my mind.

My mom isn't without fault. But her love for me is. My childhood was rather far from perfect, but I never once doubted that I was loved. I knew my parents cared about me and that my mother would do anything for me. In the end, hindsight is 20-20. In our "adult" conversations during the past few years, my mom has expressed regret that she hadn't made different choices - taken other actions - to protect my brother and I from the environment in which we were raised. As humans, we're not equipped with the ability to look into the future and determine the absolutely right decision or course of action for the current time. We have to go off of what we know - our instincts - our best guess. And in the end, it might not always have been the best decision, but it was the best we could do. I've come to accept that.

This weekend I've read two books, inadvertently, that have the same basic journey at their core. The quest to discover who the main characters really are as a result of their childhood - how their lack of a mother affected their identity. When I picked these two up from the rather formidable stack that I brought home from Borders yesterday, I didn't realize their similarity or the real lesson I would take away from them. I am so thankful that, while I am in the midst of figuring out who I am and how my childhood affects the person I've become, unlike them, I've always been blessed with overpowering love from my mother. It's the part of who I am that I truly understand.

I'm not sure what I would do without my good pal imaginary.grownup . She is my all-knowing friend. No, not my know-it-all friend, rather, my dictionary-of- completely-weird-knowledge-and-all-that-is- celebrity-gossip friend. She is the reason that I know that Nick and Jessica broke up, that Lo from Season One of Laguna Beach is selling her car on eBay and that Amanda Bynes is Jewish (I know, who knew? Not me, that's for sure).

She also tells me when important concerts are coming to town (James Blunt par example) and drags me to shows that I would never have heard of because I'm just not cool enough to know all the up-and-coming bands. But, thanks to her, I saw The Fray in concert a month ago (for $10) and now they are on VH1 every morning.

Other completely crucial and highly useful information includes the fact that Zack Braff is the voice of the dog on Cottonelle commercials, that there are only three real manufacturers of mascara and that companies contract them out (this is still unsubstantiated but in trying to verify it I discovered that modern day mascara was created in 1913 out of coal dust and vaseline to help a guy's sister win over her boyfriend, eventually becoming what we know today as Maybelline) and that Greta von Susteren, Patrick Swayze,  Paul Haggis (the director of Crash), Seinfeld (once was but no longer)  and half the cast of That 70's Show are all crazy scientologists. And that there is an article in Rolling Stone about it.

Thanks to good ol I.G, I've also learned that you can buy magazine subscriptions for supercheap on eBay, that gauchos are perenially on sale at Target for $9.99 and that they are moving Grey's Anatomy to Monday nights next year and that is why they are doing a three-hour season finale with two hours of it on Monday. She's also the reason that I watch Grey's in the first place and for that, I AM eternally thankful.

We've had some crazy times, her and I. My favorite being when, having completely procrastinated studying for a test in college, we decide at 11 p.m. the night before to go to sleep. Our plan is to go to the Health Center first thing in the morning, tell them that we ate Danny's the night before while studying and that we have been throwing up ever since. I, a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes (well, in certain situations, mainly those that involve lying or slight fabrication of the truth), felt badly about our little tale but Caroline made me follow through. So imagine the hilarity when the health center people tell me that I need an IV. An IV? I'm not even sick! I was lying. As in, I have a test this afternoon and have not cracked a book yet. Needless to say, Caroline got some saltines and gatorade while I got an IV, and we both walked out with notes.

Our current scheme is a restaurant customer service letter-writing campaign. To call it a scheme might be a tad misleading. Since we dine out together quite often, we do occasionally receive service that is lacking to say the least. As a result, we decided to take action and write letters to these establishments detailing our lapses in service and poor experiences. And let me tell you, it's paid off. The restaurants we have gotten free stuff from are: Noodles & Co., Chipotle (four free burritos and four free chips and guacamole!), Cheesecake Factory, Olive Garden (those people send out gift certificates like crazy (and I might have even re-gifted one to my aunt for Christmas. Me? Tacky? Never)), Macaroni Grill and Don Pablos (not only did I get $40 gift card, but a sweatshirt, koozy, pen and mouse pad). In all fairness, I also write when I have received great service, which, granted is not nearly as often, but shows that I am not a completely evil person.

So, moral of the story: if you're too busy the keep up with the constant happenings of Hollywood or need the latest gossip, head on over to imaginary.grownup and take a look around.

Things that make me happy: part one

Since, wow, I have been bitter, depressed, pessimistic and generally miserable as of late, I've decided to do a positive post. One where I acknowledge the good things in my life and turn my proverbial frown upside down. Here goes:

1. My mom. I am not sure what I would do without my mother. She's my favorite person in the whole wide world. Her love for me is unconditional - it doesn't matter if I am having a bad day and unfairly take it out on her, she doesn't hold it against me. I honestly know she would do absolutely anything for me and I would do the same for her. Moms are great and mine is the best.
2. My oh-so dependable, reliable and fuel efficient car. With so many other things to worry about in my life, it's nice to have something that I can count on for years to come.
3. Wireless internet. How else would I be sitting here in bed, drinking wine and watching TV while typing this?
4. Artificially cherry flavored anything. Seriously, it's all delicious. Cherry nibs or pull n'peel or Valentine's Day JuJu Hearts. Mmmmmm.
5. Lemon-lime seltzer. No real reason other than it is yummy. And cheap.
6. Grey's Anatomy. I know I've said it before but it seriously is the best show I have ever seen.
7. The Fray. Great new band who coincidentally had a song on Grey's last night. Saw them a few weeks back at the 9:30 Club. Apparently they are on VH1 every morning. How to Save a Life and All at Once are my favorites.
8. My friends. Don't worry, these numbers are arbitrary. My friends make me happier than seltzer or Juju Hearts. I've already gushed about them before so no need to get into all of that here. Thanks guys - you make everything better.

that's all for now.

happy birthday

So today would have been my grandfather's (Pepere's) 79th birthday. That is, if he had not passed away at the end of this past October.  His passing came not as a surprise - while we had almost lost him many times before, this time, we knew the end was near. I woke up that morning and I just knew that he was gone.

He was undoubtedly the strongest man I've ever known. As is not uncommon with a lot of men, he softened in his old age. His grandchildren (and great grandchildren) brought out a side of him that most of those who knew him would never have imagined. He was compassionate and kind, gentle and loving. He was truly the patriarch of our large family.

Pepere met face on and overcame a great deal of adversity during his lifetime. He grew up in the Depression in rural Illinois. The navy provided his way out and he served his country for more than twenty years. His navy career was the source of a great deal of pride for him - during the past two years, he got a huge kick out of the fact that I worked in Arlington and told me each time he saw me about the days when he worked at the Pentagon. He raised seven children, 14 grandchildren and 14 great grandchildren. He buried his parents, his brother, sister and his beloved daughter Kathy at the age of 22.

Admittedly, he was not a perfect man but he would have been the first to admit that. He lived his life with no regrets and when he passed away - he was surrounded by those who loved him most.  I guess that's the most we can ask out of life - to have the time to make amends for our mistakes - to let the ones we love know how much they mean to me - to be at peace with whatever lies ahead.

Most people would say that the death of someone at the age of 79 should not be sad as they were fortunte enough to to live a long life. And while I agree with this, I know that our family will never be quite the same. There just seems to be something missing.

My cousin Jake wrote this song after Pepere died. We played it at the funeral, and sometimes when I am missing him, I play it while driving (his favorite pasttime) and I can almost see him sitting next to me...

Even though you're not around, I know you'll be my side

Just like you were when I was 12 and everything was alright

You taught me things I'll never forget and showed me how to survive

You held me close, were my best friend, I feel you watching me now

And now, I know you're flying, you're flying so high above, I know you're flying you're flying on angels' wings

Your family knows you love them dear, you know we love you the same

The strongest man we've ever known, we'll never be quite the same

He's in the kingdom of God at last, he'll never feel pain again

The gates have opened to let you in to begin your eternal life...

Happy bithday Pepere

pals

Have you ever had one of those moments when you just feel truly blessed? I had one of them on my drive home tonight after dropping Mike off at the metro on the way home from 1223.

It occurred to me how lucky I am to have such amazing friends in my life. Tonight, I got to the bar to meet Caroline and Mike for Happy Hour. It's been a horrendous week - one that I wasn't sure was ever going to end. One that I was counting down the minutes till it was over - one that made me hate my job more than I could express. One that left me feeling pretty hopeless - that nothing seemed to be going right. Until I got to the bar.

The horror of the week faded away, and I found myself with a big stupid grin on my face. Sure it could have been the open bar - but more likely, it was the fact that I was in the presence of my friends. Friends who make bad days better - who go above and beyond when it's a lot easier not to - who make me laugh - and most importantly - SMILE.

They are the friends who sat by my hospital bed for HOURS - who made sure I was never alone by calling, texting and going extremely out of their way to be with me. To bring me my cell charger, laptop, clothes and the first three seasons of Sex and the City. To sit with me in the ER and refuse to leave until I get admitted. Who moved my car so it didn't get towed and cleaned it out so my parents wouldn't learn of my bad habits. The friends that made sure I knew people cared about me when I was all alone - who have become my family when my relatives are so far away. They are the friends who get me through my days and make my nights so much fun. The ones who are waiting when I get out of surgery and never mention that I made an idiot out of myself while recovering from the anesthesia.

They are the ones that I know will be around forever. That I cannot imagine my life without them in it. That give me faith that everything will work out.

Thanks for being so great guys. I love you all.