Things to do to Beat the Snow!

Has another wintry night in New England ruined your plans?  Make a mug of hot cocoa and grab that peanut butter and Fluff sandwich!  Here’s a list of things to do while snowed in!

Catch up on some housework…okay scratch that no one actually does that during a blizzard!

Catch up on House of Cards.  I have no idea what this is.  I think it’s a Netfliix/Showtime/Starz type of program.  And if your Facebook feed looks anything remotely like mine, you have been inundated with your friends binging on this show today.  Apparently this is the number one thing to do this Saturday in New England!

Can’t get to your local watering hole since your street has more snow than Sochi, Russia?  Then develop a drinking game!  (If you’re over 21 that is!)  Every time a meteorologist has to adjust the predicted snow totals, have a shot!

Or if you want a quicker buzz…every time someone on your Facebook feed complains about the snow have a shot!  

Or for fun…every time a friend who lives in a warmer climate posts the temperature with a cute “sorry RI!  We have all the sun!” resist the urge to jump on a plane to slap them...and just have a shot.

How about writing the next great American novel?

 

Brian's Novel (Family Guy)

Maybe something about a region crippled by weekly snowfalls?  No?

Think of the snow as your wing man.  What better way to avoid people you don’t like!

Oh screw it!  Book the next flight out to Florida and come back in the Spring!

The Battle of the Bulge

Six years ago I found myself getting ready for my ten year high school reunion.  I was nervous, almost terrified really.  I thought about what I would wear for a week.  In high school I was thin without trying.  A size two no matter what I ate!  Ten years later…well I would tell you my size but then I would have to kill you!  Besides the nerves and the terror I was embarrassed.  Embarrassed that I had not been preserved in some sort of time capsule only to be opened up at the exact moment in time.  I was grateful for one thing.  I was pregnant.  I was not grateful for the obvious reasons; the joy of carrying a life.  No.  I was grateful that I could use my pregnancy to blame the extra weight I had gained in the decade since I had seen my classmates.  Never mind that I was barely through my first trimester and could only blame a good ten pounds I had gained on being pregnant.  Ten years and what did I have to show for it?  About fifty pounds!  And then this past weekend I found myself getting ready for a mini reunion of sorts.  I noticed something different this time.

I did not worry about what I looked like at all. 

No, I hadn’t become a supermodel overnight and miraculously fit back into those size two skirts once again. I mean I have been working out a bit; I try to run and have been doing my best to live a healthier lifestyle. 

But I noticed something…

This body has seen the world in sixteen years. 

Can I blame the extra weight around my middle on being a very busy mom who sometimes gives up and eats mac and cheese for dinner?  No.  Not blame.  I can however reflect that this is the body that carried one of the most amazing human beings I know for nine months. 

These arms that are not as slim as the arms of eighteen year old me?  Well these are the arms of someone who has held people I love, rocked someone to sleep, hugged long lost friends. 

These shoulders are shoulders that have been there for people to cry on. 

These wrinkles around my eyes tell the story of a million laughs in sixteen years.

We need to stop beating ourselves up over what we look like.  Now I am not concerned about my extra weight as much as I am concerned about not having the stamina to keep up with a very active little boy.  I eat healthier not to starve myself, but to make better nutrition choices in the hopes that my son will follow suit. Will I lose weight by exercising and making better food choices?  Of course.  Am I going to labor over a scale and worry that it doesn’t show the same number it did sixteen years ago?  Not anymore.  Because sixteen years ago there was a whole world I didn’t have.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

A Look Back...And a Look Ahead

On Thursday (New England weather permitting) I am planning on giving my students (both high school and elementary!) a fantastic resolution sheet I found via We Are Teachers.  I told a co worker that I thought it was important for the kids to reflect on their year and to make goals…and then I thought shouldn’t the same idea work for adults?  So here goes…I’ll of course spare the five people who read this and skip my favorite food, activity etc.

2013…A Look Back

Greatest Lesson Learned Nothing is a sure thing!  Sometimes in 2013 I felt like the fresh faced college grad.  I mean I was a recent grad…not so fresh faced however!  Why weren’t jobs just falling out of the sky?  Who wouldn’t want a phenomenal English teacher on their staff?  I also sent out my novel to a few agents and received polite rejections.  Although the small circle of people who have read my novel have loved it, that does not necessarily mean that getting it out there in the world will be a snap!  Achieving my dreams is going to take longer than I want, but I know it will be worth it!

Hardest Thing This Year  Now I know this one will sound weird but this is the year that I learned family is what you make of it.  The end of 2012 saw my family dynamics change.  Gone were the large over done holiday dinners that were combined with driving here there and everywhere.  We simplified.  Easter became Enchilada Easter enjoyed with Dave, Brady and a fantastic friend.  Thanksgiving became staying at one house where we were wanted and where drama was nonexistent.  And after a relaxing an amazing Thanksgiving dinner with my husband’s family we still enjoy the tree lighting ceremony in West Warwick because what’s cooler than Santa on a fire truck?  And Christmas has been solidified as a Chanukah Christmas.  After enjoying time with Dave’s family on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, we find a family movie and an open Chinese restaurant!  People talk about a work family, and I certainly have that, the girls I work with are amazing and the girls who I used to work with remain a part of my life.  I am especially fortunate however since we also have a theatre family.  This year my best friend (and business partner) have grown our theatre company one step at a time, and with it these wonderful and amazing performers have stuck with us and volunteered their time, talent and money helping us grow.  All these wonderful event weren’t hard, it was accepting that change happens and that family is what you make of it that was hard.  In fact it took me almost the entire year to realize this.

Favorite Memory Well does anything beat being relentlessly teased by your four year old because you’re too scared for Splash Mountain?  Yes, watching your son in a  private ceremony in Harry Potter world where he received a wand would beat that.  Of course it was all the same trip so the memory of making Brady’s little dreams come true would be it!

What I Loved About 2013 This is hard.  I loved the stronger relationships I made with people.  I loved the excitement on Brady’s face when we arrived at the airport to take him to Disney.  I loved each and every audience member who came out to a play I wrote and said that they would be back for more!  I loved each production for my tiny divas at the daycare…watching students in particular those too frightened to sing in front of anyone then blossom in front of an audience was amazing!  I loved my first long term teaching assignment and having a glimpse into the world of teaching.  What’s not to love when you’re doing what you’re meant to do?

And Onto 2014

What I want to Learn How to be an even more effective teacher.  How to “do it all” and not have something suffer.

Want to Improve Isn’t it the same every year?  Organize and exercise.  I discovered I love running…now to find the time to do it!

Goals for 2014 There are a few!  To stage a new play I’ve written with a friend this spring, to run my first 5K, to write every day and of course to become a permanent English teacher.  Actually if I think of it my goals are endless, and that’s just the way I like it!  

And if you want to download the printable sheet that I'm using here's a link to the original source!

thirtyhandmadedays.com 

The Quest for the Perfect Gingerbread Cookie

Holidays and food go hand in hand.  At least in my world they do.  It’s really not my fault, I am Italian after all and do we know how to mangia!  For example, when I think about the Fourth of July, I can still taste the sugary crust of the blueberry pie my Grandfather would make.  Around my birthday I crave a slice of my Grandfather’s peach pie, made with peaches from my childhood yard, or the New York Cheesecake my grandmother would make, both of course made upon my request.  My Grandfather died less than ten days before Christmas one year, and although he had been sick for awhile, there was one thing I wanted, no scratch that needed to have.  One of his legendary gingerbread cookies.

These cookies were the best.  They were huge, and not crunchy, they had that perfect soft texture as you bit through the homemade frosting and your teeth made their way to the soft cookie that as a child seemed as if it was half an inch thick.  I looked forward to them every year.  They were better than any you would find in a store or a bakery.  It could be the recipe; it could even be the homemade green frosting that outlined each gingerbread boy and girl cookie.  After making these cookies every year for the previous five Christmases, I now know what the secret is to these cookies, as corny as it sounds.  To bake like that you really have to love someone!  In my thirties after baking a batch of these delicious treats my back is screaming my feet ache and I’m exhausted.  How my Grandfather did this in his sixties is astonishing to me.  (And considering that the man thought dressing down meant simply going without a jacket and I bake these in 100% comfy sweats and a tee is beyond me!)

When he first passed, I knew that although he hadn’t made them in a few years due to his declining health, I had to pick up the torch.  So I did.  They had to be perfect; they had to be the right size, made with his cookie cutters, using his recipe.  I got the recipe, but the issue I had was the cookie cutter, or the lack of one.  I couldn’t find the ones my Grandfather had used, and nothing was comparable in stores.  I went to every store, gifts virtually forgotten in my quest for a replica.  I had to get this right.  That first year I did my best, and was overjoyed when I thought I found a decent replacement- a pancake mold that was the right size.  Sure, his head always ended up with this Alfalfa type hairstyle, but nothing a little frosting couldn’t fix right?  This year after a move last Christmas, I seem to have lost the Alfalfa mold.   

This year’s cookies consist of trees, snowmen and Ninja gingerbread men.  After five years of agonizing how they looked, if they tasted exactly the same, I decided to admit a certain defeat.  I will never replicate the cookies exactly.  I try, some years I may come close, but they’ll never be the same.  What these few hours spent bent over the mixer and the breadboard do every Christmas is give me some additional time to remember all the fun times I had with my Grandfather.  How he took it upon himself one day when I was maybe twelve to teach me how to make an apple pie.  He took pictures of every step, and gave me the pictures, with each step written on the back.  How he would always have talk radio on in the car, and now I find myself doing the same thing frequently.  And how open he was if I had a question about what they were talking about on the radio.  How he would grab me by the hand when I was about nine years old to walk down to Newport Creamery, and endure the teasing from his sister in law upon our return since she said he walked with his chest puffed out with pride as we went on our way.  When I began to drive, how he would clip out articles about teen accidents, and how he very seriously told me once that if I was ever at a party and people were drinking and I needed a ride, I could call him, any time no questions asked.  How when I met Dave and it became apparent to everyone that this would be my happily ever after, that he would tell me to “be a good girl”, his way of hoping I didn’t make him a great grandfather too soon.  Or the night of my Bachelorette party when we parked our cars at my Grandparent house and returned after the clubs closed.  We thought it would be fitting to light up some cigars.  The next thing we knew, there was my Grandfather, in his late seventies, knocking on our car window scaring the living daylights out of us!

It’s amazing how food, of all things, can evoke such memories.  I thought of this tonight as I let B “help” me make the dough for the cookies as we built new memories together.

My Dad's Legacy

This is a tough time of year for me.  The second anniversary of my Dad’s death is tomorrow so of course he has been on my mind…a lot.  Being the holidays doesn’t help either.  Tonight a friend told me that the time will come where I will reminisce about my Dad with humor; “Oh, Dad would have loved that!”  I’m not there…yet.  True when I think of all the hard work I have put into obtaining my education, I think of him and know that he would be proud.  I remember being about B’s age and seeing my Dad come home with the big college textbooks, books that he kept for years, although my mother wanted them thrown out.  She didn’t understand why he would be attached to textbooks he’d never use.  Of course she also never went on to higher education.  When I see the piles of textbooks that, let’s face it, I may never use yet cannot bear to throw away, I think of my Dad.  I know how proud he would be that I too am showing my child that working for your dreams is a worthy thing, since dreams do not just fall into your lap.  I am glad I have his connection with him, although he is no longer here.  It is part of the legacy he passed to me, amongst others.

The rest of this blog is the eulogy I wrote for him.  Yes, I posted it last year, but I meant what I said two years ago and sometimes I need the reminder…

How exactly do you eulogize a man like James Vescera?  He was many things to many people; husband, Dad, father in law, uncle, brother, brother in law, friend.  All roles he performed with the upmost of importance.  I could stand here and tell you what a horrible disease this is, that took my Dad from us far too early, but when I look back on my life, and when I tell stories about him to Brady or any of mine and David’s future children, I will not focus on HD, I’ll focus on all the little things that made my Dad so great.  Like Halloween.  Every Halloween he would put on this ridiculous old guy mask, to take us trick or treating.  Every year. 
I’ll remember the father and daughter dances where he would do what I called his Frankenstein dance, and I would get annoyed.  Not at his lack of dancing ability because as we all know, I can’t dance either, but I would get annoyed that every other Dad at these dances had to come up and talk to my Dad.  Or how every Christmas it was hard to see who was more excited, Jay and myself, or our Dad.  And how much he loved to tease my Mom every year for Christmas or her Birthday with the worst wrapping job known to man.  Or how he would make up little annoying nicknames for my Mom.  How proud he was whenever I was in a play, no matter how bad some of them were.  How he coached my brother’s T-Ball team, and never was the Dad to get ultra competitive, he would just laugh when instead of looking for fly balls Jay was looking for bugs.  How even though he had to take a night job, that was far below his qualifications because he was getting sick, he still took the time to take me out driving so I could learn to drive, which is probably why I can parallel park, and have a huge love for the Doors and Classic rock.  I’ll think of all of our family trips, North Conway where we would cross country ski, go to the Polar Caves, our trip to Disney, Dad loved amusement park rides, and to this day I can’t think of Disney without picturing his face after the Back to the Future ride. 
 I’ll remember the wood car he and my brother made for Boy Scouts one year, he was so proud to have done that.  I’ll never forget how he even designed our house in Scituate, did so much of the construction, the electrical, and even the painstakingly hard job of hardwood floors, plank by plank with my grandfather.  How every Sunday at my Grandparents, we knew if there was a new recipe, Jimmy would like it.  Or how he was teased by his friends earning him the longest nickname in history “Jim V as in Victor e-s-c-e-r-a.”
I’ll remember having chocolate cake or cold pizza sometimes in the morning for breakfast, and how he used to let my friends tease him about his minor beer belly. 
I’ll remember his fabulous sense of humor.  Even at times where most parents would be aggravated, we could say something and he would find humor in the situation.
I’ll remember times where he stood up for what he believed in, when it came to his brother Danny, or Tommy, or even once a friend of mine in Elementary School
I’ll remember how much he loved his grandchildren, Jay and myself, David and Courtney, and my Mom.
I’ll remember how he never once complained about his illness, how he took it on like he took on everything, with courage and strength.

The saying is a heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.  After last night and today, it is obvious our Dad had a large heart.  Thank you for loving our Dad.

So, just how do you eulogize a great man like my Dad?  By going out and living like he did, hug your loved ones, never let a minute go by to tell them you love them.  Laugh every day.  Be courageous, strong and above all be selfless.  That is the kind of daily tribute you could all give my Dad.