Moving Day

A new blog.

The fork in the road.
They come up right?
I'm at one.
So I'm going towards the sun.
Cause it's what I worship.
Besides Sugary Nativity sets.
If you want to know where, e mail me.
If not.
See ya later.
xoxo

The Owl And the Pussycat, I Mean Duck. Or Whatever

Saige and I saw an owl today. I believe all bird of prey sightings are auspicious. I could ramble on and on about the moments in my life that an eagle has flown over me. Hawks are rather common around us. When my little Pomeranian (alien) was a puppy they used to circle him while my two German Shepherds would run around barking and going ballistic. So I don't take every hawk sighting as a sign, it's just a not so gentle reminder that sweet little bunnies and small fluffy aliens should probably beware. Perhaps I should take them a little more seriously...

Owls aren't as easy to come by. They are night creatures so to see them during the day is special in it's own right. Saige and I were driving to pick up her friend. All of the sudden she said very excitedly, "There's an owl on that dress!" I turned and saw one of those big metal towers that did actually look like a dress and right on one of the bars was a beautiful white headed owl with the lightest brown wings. It was so cool. I did a very quick, very illegal turn and tossed Saige my camera. She ran out in the freezing cold in a short sleeve shirt and these weird fluffy moccasins she wears and went to take it's picture. She moved a little to fast and it flew away. Although we were a little bummed it was beautiful to watch.

There are many thoughts on owl sightings. It is said that an owl sighting is like a gift being given to you. It is said that you can only come across animals with the same energy as you in that moment so the timing of seeing one of these birds means something special. Owls also show themselves at as a sign of warning. They are very perceptive and are a reminder for you to be aware too. To be conscious of the people around you. To remember that not everyone is what you think they are. To be careful.

I was the most trusting of people. This past year as given me a whole new perception of human nature. This Monday night was the light switch for me. It was the day I realized that some people are just out for themselves. I had seen it coming but kept pushing it off. I didn't listen to my friends and family or myself for that matter. I believed and trusted in the good I felt must be deep down. It was sad letting that go for good. It was sad realizing that there was no turning back. Some things can't be undone.
So seeing that owl, and especially having my very wise Saige be the one to point it out meant a lot to me. Especially this week, in this time of my life.
To me it is like the quote at the top of my blog. "There are two people inside of me- me and my intuition. If I go against her, she'll screw me every time, if I follow her, we get along quite nicely." -Kim Basinger
Listen to your intuition.
You always know.
If it look likes a duck, and smells like a duck, it must be a duck.
It's certainly not an owl.

Owls are special. Ducks, not so much.

Maybe You Can Help...

I realize that I can be slightly odd. I have quirks. I tend not to notice them until they are brought to my attention. I had a friend raise a few questions about my life. I am wondering if you guys could help...

A List Of Mysteries...

1. What IS Mickey?
2. Why doesn't Amy know anything about Philadelphia?
3. Does the oven work?
4. Who really fought at the Battle of Chester Creek?
5. Why wasn't Lisa at lunch today?
6. How many nativity sets are there in West Chester?
7. How does Lucy always get into the food and garbage?
8. Seriously, what is Mickey?
9. How did I get out of moving the big chair from Meredith's house?
10. Does Saige love her new pony?
11. What is Jason thinking when he has to hold Sue's hair back?
12. Why does Amy have to rub Chipolte in my face by making me drive by it all the time?
13. Who's ashes are in those urns and I am next?
14. Does Nancy believe Amy really "forgot" to make the salad?
15. Why are there so many toothbrushes?
16. What would happen if I knocked over the Christmas tree at Oriental Pearl?
17. What does mangry mean?
18. If the pilgrims fought the indians at the Battle of Chester Creek then who was in the bloody Battle of Ridley Creek?
19. How ever will Amy get to Rachel's to get her hair done?
20. Why does she think my messenger bag is a murse and would it hurt very much to be hit with it?
21. Why do so many people discriminate against the Beige race?
22. How has Amy never lost a mirror backing into the garage?
23. Why bother having water bowls for the dogs when the toilet bowls seem to be working just fine?
24. Speaking of dogs (allegedly) what the hell IS Mickey?
25. If all Christmas trees were pink, would Amy want a green one?

But Mom, I Love Him

Thank God it's not Saige saying that...yet.

For now it's a friend of mine. A very dear, a very sweet, a very wonderful friend. Her tales of dating though, frankly, just scare me. She actually has a blog where she gives a play by play of the freaks (no offense honey) that she dates. It is astonishing. Number one, she is beautiful, not in a way of, "Oh, my friend is beautiful." She is flat out gorgeous. She's a yoga teacher for Gods sake. That has to count for something. She is young, only thirty. Remember thirty? No? Oh well, who the hell wants to be thirty anyway? Okay, back on track. She is newly divorced and dating for the first time in over ten years.

There are a host of kooky contenders. There is the guy she she had the two most perfect dates in her life with but then just disappeared basically. We refer to him as "Summer Breeze." From then on she no longer would date men with two nipple rings and/or a Vespa. There was the really nice guy that ended up having a secret love child with his nanny. That's fun! Then there was the guy that made awful smells on date one. Oh the list goes on and on.

My all time favorite is the most recent though. When she first met him she was describing him to me. Good looking, check, divorced, check, five kids, ch... "Wait! I'm sorry, did you say five kids?"
"Well, only three of him are biologically his, but he loves the other two like they are," she explained.
"Dump him," I instructed.
"What? I really like him, we have a connection," she said so dreamily it almost broke my heart.
"Yeah, whatever. Dump. His. Ass," I said, this time much more sternly.
"But Amy, I think this could be the one," she pleaded.
"He's got five kids. I don't care how great he is. You need to dump him or buy a mini van for when it's YOUR weekend. I don't see that happening so let's just end this now and get rid of him," I said again, very harshly, but she expects that from me.

Fast forward to now, four weeks later. It's not working out. He has a host of other issues, not even pertaining to his half a soccer team. It has been a bit of a roller coaster but the tell tale sign was when he suddenly listed his Facebook status as "Complicated." That's pretty much the kiss of death. So yesterday she was waiting for him to come over so they could officially break up. I for one, was thrilled. I don't mean to sound like a bitch but five kids is way to many to take on. It's seems stupid, unless you have five of your own, a dog named Tiger and a slave named Alice.
I was kind (just so you know Billy!) and I said, "It's okay Honey, you'll meet someone else." And that's when those words came. The words that I am so dreading to hear from my very own twelve year old daughter in a few years, although I know inevitable when she is talking about some guy who is just soooo wrong. "But Mommmmmm, I really LOVE him..."
Uh, yeah.

Pink Eye Is the New Blue Eye (And A Dead Cat)

Or at least for me it is. Which sucks. I don't think I have ever had pink eye before. It's odd that I don't like it given my affinity for the color pink but I find that I really dislike it. Billy, is it something you would like or dislike?

My friend Lisa and I went to a training for this really cool circus stuff to teach kids up in New York City. It was a lovely studio but I am quite sure some little rug rat had pink eye and smooshed it all over the place and then I touched it and inadvertently rubbed my eye and voila! Pink eye for Amy. I of course didn't understand last night why my eyes were tearing so much. I thought it was because Lisa's husband told a very funny story over the phone that made me laugh so hard that I thought my kids could hear me back in PA.

Lisa had the flu.
We were quite an attractive couple while we hunted and gathered through Union Square this afternoon...

It was about 33 degrees and we were all bundled up while we walked around looking for interesting things. We found the coolest jewelry. And anyone who knows us knows that shiny objects can stop us dead in our tracks. These objects were particularly fetching. I saw a necklace with all these little charms on it. One charm was a little switchblade. I know it sounds weird, but it was so cool, man. I called Lisa over (who was desperately in need of something cool cause she had just purchased the four dorkiest doll jewelry holders that I have ever seen, she actually let me lose her at the street fair for a few minutes cause she didn't want me to see her buying them, knowing what my reaction would be.

So I said, "Lisa, come over here. Look at this stuff. You're gonna love it."
Then, this very cool looking character with the best accent says, "I made that all. Is all my work." (that r in work was totally rolled with his Spanish accent). Lisa got all bright eyed and bushy tailed suddenly. "That necklace is so cool, but I don't think you could get on a airplane with it though." She was referring to the little knife "charm".
"Oh yes you could, " says the killer accent, "You just close it up, see, (as he demonstrates) like a switch blade and you tell no one!."
Lisa was sold!
"What does it say on the back of that other charm?" I asked.
"Is from a song I wrote, it sayz, 'if you ever loved me like you did a dead cat I would still rather be with someone that looked like you.'"
This just keeps getting better. I don't even get that but I don't think I could possibly love it anymore.
Lisa was completely mesmerized.
She bought the necklace.
She just better not put it anywhere near that gay ( I mean straight) jewelry holder.

Pleased with ourselves we decided to move on to Barbounia for one last bit of baba ganoush before we headed home. On the way there we got to see a part of a Matt Damon movie being filmed on 6th Ave. All the extras and the movie guys and a little chase scene, we thought.

It was a good day! Pink eye, the flu, a dead cat, and all.

Pink Is the New Green

I love fake Christmas trees. It's the truth. I'll be the first to admit it. I have one that I have had for like 6 years. I think I vaguely remember writing about it before. We call it the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. That's what it reminds me of. I love it so much I can barely stand it. Every year, the day after Thanksgiving I drag it up from the basement. The branches scrap the walls on the way up. Usually I forget it is in three different parts and inevitably one falls off along the way. I have to take a rest in the foyer and revaluate how I am going to smoosh it through the door way. Then I have to straighten out the branches and string it up with lights.
It's a tradition.
So I did that. It's up. It's decorated with pretty white lights and only Santa ornaments because I decided a few years ago that is how it should be and I can be slightly psychotic about projects.

However. This year I got a new idea. I saw this beautiful white Christmas tree in a beautiful store in a beautiful place and decided that I was bored with my Charlie Brown Christmas tree. I decided I wanted a hot pink Christmas tree. I love hot pink.

Saige and her friend Becky and I hit many stores trying to find a hot pink tree. No luck, Chuck. Then while we were in New York we saw one in a store and Saige and Chase ran in to ask how much it was. Not for sale. So sad.

So I just spray painted a little one that I already had. I decided to love it. Still, I longed for a fluffy hot pink tree.

Fortunately for me, apparently Saige is even more relentless than me. She called her father. She put him on a mission. She told him he could get any old tree and they would just paint it. It was so simple. He bought a 4 ft. green one and found that no amount of spray would ever really make it pink. They had to trash it. Poor fake green tree. That's what you get for being green.

Finally they found a light pink one. On a secret mission they brought it to our house. She made sure I was safely tucked inside while she sprayed it hot pink. She got so excited spraying it that Marc ended up with a hot pink arm.

She ushered me with closed eyes outside. She was so proud. It already had lights attached! It was like the angels were singing a song from above. It was the sweetest thing ever. I love it way better than some big fluffy real pine tree that would tip over and stain my rug with it's water and would drop pine needles all over the floor and then be a hassle to get outside.
No tree had to die for my happiness. Well, actually a fake tree did.

And Then She Was Twelve...

Time flies.
Years pass by like seconds.
My daughter is my height.
Last night she told me she didn't like the middle name I gave her.
I told her she could change it.
We looked up online how to change a child's name legally.
Don't call her Saige Delaney anymore. Call her Saige Love (for now).
I don't argue with her.
I know better than that.
I call her Saige Love.
I love her.
Unconditionally.
With all my heart.
She just showed me her phone screen saver.
It says, "I'm a lover not a fighter but I'll fight for what I love."
Yes.
All day, everyday.
She has always gotten "it."
I love her.
And admire her.
She has the kindest soul I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.
She shines like a star.
I'm not just saying that cause she is mine.
Ask anyone.
I love her.
In yoga there is a saying you say at the end of every practice, "The light in me recognizes the light in you."
I can actually see the light in her.
Every single day.
She understands right from wrong.
She stands up for what she believes in.
She does not back down.
Eleven years and eleven months ago I was in the hospital in labor with her.
She is still eleven now.
Not much longer.
Things seemed so much simpler then.
I have never been thankful for anything more than that night.
Every second of it.
And the next morning.
Cause she chose me.
My little girl.
My daughter.
Is twelve.
Oh dear.
Mom, this is your fault.