With regard to accomplishing what is considered to be humanly impossible –

I have but two words:

Lance Armstrong!

Last night, I saw footage of the press conference that he gave just four days after he was diagnosed with the cancer, that had spread so badly, that it was expected to take his life and —

pretty quickly.

During the press conference he was fighting to choke back his tears as he vowed that, not only would he beat the cancer but he would live to ride again AND win the Tour de France.

What Lance Armstrong went on to do after that — I mean, there really is no worthy commentary. Really. In the case of Lance Armsrong and what he has accomplished on and off that bike — there really are no words except, whatever it is:

“JUST GET IT DONE”!

Yesterday I took Gussie to see a movie.

The movie theatre that we usually go to is a 16-plex theatre and you have to climb a gazillion escaltors to the actual theatre.

When we get on line to buy our tickets, there’s a nice grandparently couple — on the young-ish side, in front of us. It’s obvious that they are leisurely enjoying a lazy, misty summer day. Not me though! No, not me! I multi-task! Listen, if I’m going to go see a movie on a Monday, I’m gettin’ in and I’m gettin’ out and I’m not relaxin’ while I’m there.

Anyway, I buy our tickets and we catch up with the “we’re-clearly-never-in-a-hurry” Gram and Gramps couple on the escalator.

RATS!!!

Now we are stuck behind them for the entire ride to the top of this monster of a building.

Ho-hum. They’re just campin’, campin’, campin’ out on the escalator and now we’re behind them, being held hostage for like a gazillion minutes, as we make a slow approach to the top the first of like a dozen of these escalator staircases!

Can you feel my pain? I mean escalators, in my world, were designed to speed you along, not to give you a reason to “take a load off, Sally!”

While we stand — when we could be movin’, movin’ movin’, by the way — caught behind “the relaxed”, I look over at Gussie and I give her “the sign”. (We have our own personal sign for emergency moments such as this). She nods back at me, confirming that she understands what must be done. You see, she knows the drill —

We’ve got to pass these slow pokey pokes as we get off of this escalator or suffer the consequences of standing behind them for an eternity while they go on and on about what they should have for dinner!!!!

As we approach the top of the escalator and position ourselves to take the lead, I give Gussie the other one of “our signs” — a double hand signal. She nods back at me confirming that she’s gotten the instruction that –

we must, however, execute with total dignity.

Alas, we arrive at the top of the first mountain and:

Mission accomplished!

We get to the top and pass the two “got-all-the-time-in-the-world” dynamic duo! Funny thing though, they actually try and race us, forcing us against our will to speed up and snatch our lead right back! We practically have to run to just barely stay ahead of them. But we did it! Ha! You lose, guys! We win!

Ahhhh. Sitting in my movie seat, it dawns on me that I always just want to be first. I started thinking about how I covertly race in life to always be first; to get my spot at the gym, to be first in line at the bank…

I like to be first!

When Gussie was two years old I kept tripping over her. She would always end up standing still right under my feet. It would always happen and it drove me nuts and never made sense until one day I realized that what she was doing was — being first. She would position herself in front of me and then stop so that she could be first. So, this condition is clearly childish but genetic and, not my fault at all.

On our way out of the movie, I see Grams and I make an attempt at trying to restore my dignity by nodding politely at her. She looks at Gramps and then gives him a sign; clearly their own personal sign for:

“Hey, look, there goes that WEIRD-O again”

This past Saturday me, Auguste and Gussie took a ride on the subway train to go and visit Auguste’s Mom.

In New York City we have groups of guys that walk through the trains singing for money.

These are ususally older guys trying to make a living. Sometimes they really sound great other times —

UNINSPIRED.

One of the guys in the group that was serenading us on our train on Saturday, said to Auguste as he passed us by:

“Man, you got two weddings to pay for!”

Auguste was sitting in between Gussie and I and I guess he thought that I was a daughter too.

Gimme a break!

Number 1) Gussie doesn’t look that old
B) I don’t look that young
III) I swear Auguste Roc looks great for “his age”
Furthermore) Whatever!

This guy obviously forgot his glasses at home. I leaned in and said to Auguste:

“Let’s just smooch and then see what he has to say about that!”

That’s when Gussie grossed out and scooted over. Guess she was uninspired too….

I am preoccupied this morning with a fight that I had with Auguste last night.

It all started when our friend Sebastien gave me this great recipe for Smoked Mussels. Sebastien’s restaurant is called Ivo and Lulu and, I tell you, you have not lived until you have had his Smoked Mussels in chili sauce!

So, excited to finally have his recipe, Gussie and I search all over Lower Manhatten for a Gourmet Deli that has smoked Mussels. We finally find them at Gorumet Garage.

We rush home and before we head upstairs, I check the mail and Gussie’s report card has arrived. Great report card, I am happy to say.

Now I’ve got just enough time to carefully prepare these mussels. My hope is that they will be at least as good as Sebastien’s. I must admit they turn out pretty good and so our dinner will now be centered around the mussels.

Well, Auguste is late coming home. My smoked mussels have to be put on hold. Not mad, but not happy either.

Finally Auguste gets home. I re heat the mussels and “ring the dinner bell” (I don’t actually ring the dinner bell, just a figure of speach although I could actually ring the dinner bell because we do actually have a dinner bell). I “ring the dinner bell” and wait. I keep waiting. Why aren’t people making a mass rush to the kitchen to partake of this feast?

I head back to the bedroom where, Auguste was last seen, to find him sloooowwwwllllyyyy going through Gussie’s report card and he tells me that dinner will have to wait until he has finished. Well, by the looks of it, this will be sometime after midnight because it’s a long essay-like report with an entry from each teacher. She has eight. It’s like a novel this report card and Auguste doesn’t just read the report card, he reeeeaaaaddddssss it and then he reeeeaaaaddddsss it again. Then he calls his Mother and reeeeaaaadddssss it to her. My mussels don’t stand a chance at this point.

I get mad, the mussels get put away, Auguste eats rice and bread for dinner (although I do fix coffee and dessert because coffee and dessert are a religion in our house), and I stay mad until the next morning when I announce to Auguste that I am not speaking to him because of the way that “you dismissed my smoke mussels last night”! Can you tell how easy to get along with I am?

Anyway, because the first thing that Auguste does every morning when he gets to work is read my blog –

“Honey, I love you from the bottom of my heart! I am sorry for being so petty and I do forgive you for disrespecting my Smoked Mussels that I worked so hard to get perfect just for you!”

Sebastien this is all your fault!

Gussie: Mom there is some guy who keeps reading your blog all the time and he really likes it.

Me: Really?

Gussie: Yep. He keeps writing you comments about how much he likes your blog. His name is Yves.

Me: Oh, him. That’s just Daddy. Yves is his alias so he can disguise the fact that my husband is the only one bothering to comment on my blog.

Auguste: LOL!

Yesterday afternoon, Gussie and I were waiting for the Subway to return home from her violin lesson.

While we were waiting, a Dad and his, oh about 12 year old son, asked us how to get to Coney Island. After we told them (Gussie actually knew more about it than I did), I asked them where they lived, and the Dad said “Tampa Florida“.

I noticed how much the son looked like the father. I noticed how carefree and glad to be together they were. We talked a little bit about the hurricanes in Florida last year and how they are bracing for the weather that this summer might bring.

Our train pulled up and both the Dad and the son wished Gussie and I a great summer. They were really nice.

When we got home, there was a message from Auguste on voicemail. He called to let me know that they found that little boy, Brennan Hawkins – the boyscout that was lost in Utah — alive.

Great News! and God Bless!

I thought about how relieved and beside themselves with joy Brennan’s parents must be. I thought about that Dad that we had met waiting for the Subway train; how he and his son were off to enjoy a bit of summertime fun together at Coney island. I thought about how quickly something fun like camping or playing at the amusement park can turn into —

something else.

I imagined the horror that parents must experience when their children go missing.

I asked Gussie to please practice her violin with her bedroom door open,

wide.

Lately I’ve been experiencing this major wave of nostalgia. I find myself missing the “Good Ole Days”.

I think that it has a lot to do with the fact that I have been listening lately to the music from my own personal “Good Ole Days” . How great was the music “back then”?!

I was channel surfing late last night and I stumbled upon, and started watching “A walk On The Moon” with Diane Ladd. The movie takes place during the summer of ’69 which was fun but, the best part about the movie is all of that great old summertime music. That era marks the beginning of me having any real memories and thus marks the beginning of “Good Ole Days” music for me:

Janis Joplin singing Summertime, Joni Mitchell, Crimson and Clover, Wishin’ and Hopin’ — you’ve got to click and take a listen!

I read somewhere once that music literally means to think. It comes from the greek word muse which translates “to make think”. Well I think that –

No music makes you “make think” like the music from your own personal “Good Ole Days”!

That music, whatever yours is, just has the ability to transport you back to a special time and place like nothing else. Whenever I hear music from my “Good Ole Days” I stop whatever I am doing so I can go back to that place and time and take it all in.

I am going to go get the Soundtrack for A Walk On The Moon, today!

Anyway, this morning I was talking talking talking to Auguste, going on and on and on as I always do when, I looked over at him and something looked terribly wrong. He looked like he was enduring some sort of physical pain:

“What’s wrong”, I said. “Are you O.K.?” I was worried.

“My Dad. All of a sudden I’m just missing my Dad.”, he answered.

Auguste’s Dad died on February 3rd and he is still working through the grief.

As I stood next to him silently, trying quietly to provide whatever support I could, I noticed that James Taylor’s

“Shower The People You Love With Love”

was playing sofly in the background.

I don’t know why but:

This recent picture of

Arnold Schwarzenegger

is really upsetting me.

“What are we havin’ today-ee Mae, Pod-ay-dahz?”

Everyday you could set your watch by it. Jim, the bus driver would walk in and ask my grandma:

“What are we havin’ today-ee Mae, Pod-ay-dahz?”

My grandma ran a nutrition program for the elderly. They would come to her center Monday through Friday for a nutritious lunch. Jim was the bus driver who would pick them up, bring them in for lunch and then take them back home. We, her grandkids, were her “volunteer” labor force. We spent our summers serving the elderly food, doing the dishes after they ate and listening to them go on and on about their aches and pains. All while our friends were outside playing and having fun!

“What are we havin’ today-ee Mae, Pod-ay-dahz?”

Now, Jim knew that everyday we would be having potatoes because we had potatoes everyday. I don’t remember one day that we didn”t have potatoes but everyday Jim would ask, without fail, in the most exaggerated Nordic Midwestern twang:

“What are we havin’ today-ee Mae, Pod-ay-dahz?”

When I remember summer, growing up in Madison, Wisconsin, what I remember most is Jim and how — bless his heart –he used to make us laugh…

This reporter reported on CNN this morning that Michael Jackson should follow in Celine Dion’s footsteps and resort to doing Las Vegas in order to make a career comeback.

What I don’t think this reporter has taken into consideration is that:

We are living today in a global world!

Michael Jackson is of that Global World!

Michael Jackson is a Global World phenomena. His popularity here is not representative of his popularity in other parts of the world.

The world is a great book. He who never stirs from home reads only a page.

-Annonymous

Stir it up!!