by Sarah | Apr 13, 2013 | A to Z Challenge, All About Me, Story of Me
Once upon a time, around 1999, I was a single mother.
Living with my parents in Maryland.
Maryland, where I was just a few short hours from New York City.
From Broadway.
So every chance I had.
Even when my parents didn’t know.
I went.
*
One weekend they packed up my son to go camping.
All weekend long.
I stayed behind.
And packed myself and a friend up.
And went to the city.
I saw a matinee of Cats.
I hung around with friends.
Had dinner.
Went back to the car to take my friends and myself home.
In a super expensive parking garage I got my car.
Drove it to the exit to meet my friends.
Opened the trunk.
We dumped our stuff in.
Slammed it shut.
*
Two minutes I climbed into the driver’s seat.
No keys.
10PM at night.
In NYC.
In a parking garage.
I locked my keys in the trunk.
*
Parking garage employee called a “locksmith.”
One with skillz.
Capability.
Know-how.
Or not.
Couldn’t open the trunk.
Had to rip out the lock.
Brutishly.
I got my keys.
The man with the skillz taped the trunk shut.
I drove home.
*
The story I gave was similar, but didn’t take place in NYC.
But Baltimore.
Had my lock replaced so my car wasn’t duct-taped shut.
My parents never knew the true story.
And I never locked my keys in the trunk again.
*~*~*
The A-Z Challenge has over 1900 participants, all blogging from A to Z this month. Check them out and see if you can’t find a few new favorites!!
by Sarah | Apr 10, 2013 | A to Z Challenge, All About Family, All About Home, All About Indiana, All About Me, Random, Story of Me, The Reluctant Hoosier
The path is familiar.
Second nature.
The first time I followed it, I was only 14.
Unable to drive.
Unable to process what it meant.
How I would change.
While the path stayed the same.
*
The first time it was the I-90 to 271, to 71, to 270, to 70…and off the highway in the middle of Indiana.
A far cry from home.
From the suburbs of Buffalo, the suburbs of Indianapolis – that felt to me more rural than suburban.
From attitudes and pride, to looking people in the eye and church.
A foreign land.
*
For three years we traversed the path between two worlds frequently.
We lingered in the past, and at the same time moved forward.
Our lives moved on, and a few years later, so did we.
We left behind Indiana and followed new paths…
Only to return again.
Not “home”…no, not New York.
“Home.” Indiana.
*
20 years later I could still drive the path blindfolded.
I know the way.
I can still find my way through my old home town, even though I learned to drive 500 miles away from it.
Instinct brings me back around.
But I don’t.
*
Now the roles are reversed.
This foreign land has become home.
Familiar.
Safe.
The last time I drove that route was 2 years ago…and it was for a funeral.
Before that, almost 4 years had passed.
I missed much.
So much it’s now foreign.
There are days I miss that land.
Days I feel my heart call me home.
But life has moved on.
And so have I.
*
I will return again.
I will eat the familiar, delicious foods.
I will drive the pathways that no longer lead to the same places I remember, where strangers now live, or where the home itself has been changed.
Because a piece of me will always remember and belong.
*
Those interstate pathways carried me away.
Took me to places I never expected.
But they can never lead home again.
*~*~*
The A-Z Challenge has over 1900 participants, all blogging from A to Z this month. Check them out and see if you can’t find a few new favorites!!
by Sarah | Apr 9, 2013 | A to Z Challenge, All About Erik, All About Marriage, All About Me, All of Us, Story of Me
This hummingbird glass sculpture was purchased to be my cake-topper at my wedding to match the light hints of hummingbird throughout my wedding (like the hummingbirds mom embroidered on my dress). Less than a year after the wedding my cat skidded across my dresser, knocked it to the ground and shattered it. I refuse to throw it away. It sits there, sealed in a plastic bag, for eternity. The symbol of the hummingbird means too much to give up. I dream of finding someone to fix this cake-topper, even though I know it’s not possible.
*~*
My grandparents used to take an annual trip to see my Grampa’s brother. They’d go out to Massachusetts and spend time with family, and then return home to Buffalo.
One of their favorite parts of the trip was sitting outside and watching the hummingbirds buzz around.
Then, my great-uncle passed away, and my grandparents went out for the funeral. On their last night there, in the cool evening air they spoke of my uncle. As he sat there talking, a hummingbird flew up near my Grampa’s shoulder and hovered. It lingered near his face for several minutes, flitting back and forth before flying off.
They all decided that had been my great-uncle stopping by for one last visit.
Almost seventeen years ago, after a year’s fight against cancer, my Grampa passed away.
It was September in Buffalo. Cold air had begun to move in. All summer things were fading. I returned to New York with the funeral, and then went right back to NC to return to school.
Three weeks later the family grapevine lit up with the story.
At the end of September, Gramma was out on her porch to bring in all the chairs, etc. for winter. It was a yearly ritual when it just became too cold to sit on the porch. Since it was sunny, she decided to sit outside for one last afternoon. Wrapped in her sweater she sat, watching the cars go by as she always did.
There.
In the cold end of September.
Hovering near a hanging plant.
Buzzed a hummingbird.
It flew under the porch roof.
Hovered near Grandma.
And then took off.
*
Every September for the past sixteen years.
Even if I have not seen one all year.
A hummingbird shows up.
Every year.
*~*
I won’t let go of the cake topper.
The hummingbird is still in one piece.
And Grampa still visits.
*~*~*
The A-Z Challenge has over 1900 participants, all blogging from A to Z this month. Check them out and see if you can’t find a few new favorites!!
by Sarah | Feb 21, 2013 | All About Me, All of Us, Crap, Random, Story of Me
Five years ago (5? Really? Wow….) I did a post called 100+ things about me.
I thought about completely reviving it and doing a full 100+ things about me again as quite a few of those are now old news or untrue (or have changed drastically).
But 100+ things felt like a lot to my addled brain, so I trimmed it down to 20 (for now – see after the list for my ideas).
So, without further ado…20(ish) things about me…that you may or may not know.
- I grew up in Buffalo, NY.
- A piece of my heart still calls Buffalo home…but then I realize I’ve spent more years away from NY than I did in it.
- I call myself the “Reluctant Hoosier” – because I’m slowly, and begrudgingly, realizing that to me now, Indiana is becoming home. I still hate the name ‘Hoosier’…but I am loving the state more every day.
- I am deathly allergic to cats (had one put me in the hospital 11 years ago)
- And pot (yup – going to concerts like Metallica is FUN for me).
- Growing up I ate orange juice on rice krispies or oatmeal in place of milk because of my allergies. (ick – it scarred me for life)
- I have a tattoo – on my back – between my shoulders – it’s a butterfly with my kids initials woven in.
- I am craving – craving another tattoo (or 3 or 4).
- My tattoo embarrasses the teen (the punk. It’s not like I go around flashing it to his friends).
- I have moments where I just want to walk away from it all. I don’t, but I have a flash of thought once in a while.
- I’ve been married for 10.5 years – and it’s been a bumpy ride, but we’re still going strong.
- If I could I’d have a pet snake – the husband would shit a brick, though.
- I love coloring my hair. It has nothing to do with the grays – I just like variety. In fact, it’s time again, what should I do next?
- I’m attempting to create a victorian era gown from the skin out. Underthings are done. Corset is half-done. I have the materials ready to go for petticoats and bustle. 🙂
- While I was obsessed with the Little House books growing up (seriously, read them over and over and over)…I hated the TV series because it was ‘too different’ from the books.
- The first 2 fingers on both hands and my big toes all turn inward (on toes it’s called a bunion). It’s an odd quirk I’ve had my whole life – although very soon I think my feets will need corrective surgery as they have begun to hurt.
- My ‘odd human trick’ that I used to be able to do was bark like a poodle. I cannot attest as to whether I currently can still perform this trick.
- I am a lifetime occasional smoker. I can almost always quit easily and I rarely go for more than a few months, but it happens. Now that he’s 15, my teen is highly vocal about his disgust in this sometimes-habit.
- I had an emergency hysterectomy 6 years ago. Best decision ever. I prefer hot flashes to the other mess. With 3 kids (proving my high fertility despite multiple attempts to NOT get pregnant) and frequent inactive cysts and having already lost 1 ovary in 99…I was beyond ready.
- I wrote a book. It’s been [amazon_link id=”B00BEMN5SC” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]published[/amazon_link]. I wrote another, it’s coming out in April. Many more on the burner. I love being an author – between it and blogging, I have the best jobs in the world.
There’s 20 for now.
I figure I’ll do one for each member of the family over the next few weeks. I might even turn it into a weekly deal for some regularity around here that can apply to whatever happens to be going on.
by Sarah | Nov 18, 2012 | All About Home, All About Me, Story of Me
My mom taught me to cook and bake as I grew up. I would help her tear bread for the stuffing at holidays. Cut apples for applesauce or pie. I’d stir the batter for the most delicious brownies.
All along the way I’d glean tips and tricks to what makes my Mom’s meals delicious. Little nuggets of information that have stuck with me into my marriage.
One of my favorite secrets happens to tie in with my favorite fall treat.
Apple Crisp.
My Mom’s secret lay in the citrus that you add. Instead of a tart lemon, she used orange. Now, before you go crying that the citrus isn’t necessary because you expect the apples to brown in this delicious dessert…of course you do. But, if you add a touch of orange as your citrus – it’s a sweet little kick that punches up the flavor. The way you put in that citrus is up to you. I favor orange juice concentrate (a couple of tablespoons), you could use orange juice – heck, my mom has been known to use Tang. Yes, TANG.
Try it – along with my other secret (vary the apples, I use up to 4-5 different kinds). I bet you won’t regret it.
Recipe: Apple Crisp
Summary: Recipe is for one pie sized dessert. Increase as needed for larger desserts (as I did in my example pictures)
Ingredients
- Filling:
- 6 apples – at least 1 granny smith
- 2Tbs White Sugar
- 2Tbs Brown Sugar
- 2Tbs Flour
- 1Tbs Orange Juice concentrate
- Topping:
- 1/2 Stick Butter
- 1/8 C Brown Sugar
- 1/4 C Flour
Instructions
- Peel & Core apples
- Slice – granny’s hold up better so slice them thinner, the other varieties slice thicker
- Mix with rest of filling ingredients and put into pie plate
- Using pastry cutter or fork, cut together topping ingredients
- Sprinkle topping over pie
- Bake 50-60 minutes at 350*
- Turn on broiler for 3-5 minutes until topping is crisp to your liking.
Preparation time: 20 minute(s)
Cooking time: 1 hour(s)
Number of servings (yield): 6
by Sarah | Sep 11, 2012 | All About Family, All About Me, Personal, Story of Me
I posted this last year and the year before at this time. I’m re-posting it. I will always repost it every year at this time…
I know what today is. I know what it means to our country. I remember every detail of 2001 in vivid detail…but since before 2001, this date has been difficult for me, for my family…in 1996 my family’s core was lost, the heart of us…my grandfather…so my post on 9/11 is for him. Oh, and at surface glance I hate this picture of me, but then I see the pure joy on my face dancing with my grandfather and aesthetics be damned, it’s my favorite picture.
It was his birthday. I was young and a very short kid…and he was TALL. I remember watching him put our coats in the closet and staring up, up, up at him and asking, “How tall are you?” With his sparkling eyes and laugh he informed me that he was over 6′. My eyes grew wide, and all I could say was, “But you’re so close to the ceiling! If you have ANY more birthdays you’ll go right through!”
His chair sat by the front door and the minute he sat the race was on – who would get the privilege of sitting on his lap, carrying on as deep a conversation as a child was capable of? Who would get to play with his round pot belly, and listen to his laughter?
He worked for GM and he was proud of it, and so were we.
When I close my eyes I can still smell his pipe and see the pipe carousel on his dresser. I can smell the cigarettes that he and grandma smoked.
I remember that after he retired he would watch soap operas during lunch.
And I remember the weddings – when my cousin and I would trade off and share him for the dance. “Grampa” by the Judds.
I remember his smile.
I remember his belly.
I remember the strength that he always carried in his soul and body.
I remember the pain that shot through my heart at the word…”cancer”. Once it was uttered it was less than a year. 10 months.
I remember the first time I saw him in the hospital-and how I had to run from the room because it made me physically ill to see my big strong grandfather lying in a bed weak and hooked up to tubes.
I remember his fight.
I remember when it was acknowledged in our hearts that the time to fight was over.
I remember how he held on – hours past when we thought we would lose him – because he would not let go until he’d gotten to hear the good-bye of all of his grandchildren, and my brother had been in surgery for his shattered wrist. Half an hour after the final phone call, he was gone.
I remember the sound of the tennis balls scattering across the hallway when my professor’s assistant walked up asking if she knew where I was…and all I could do was run to my car to get home as soon as I could.
From there it’s a blur…a long car ride from NC to NY. The arrangements. The funeral home. The droves of people I didn’t know, but who all knew him, overflowing the room.
The pain has lessened, resorted to a memory. For the most part I remember the love, the good things, the joy. But on this day every year the pain comes back to the forefront.
The pain seems so much stronger now that Grandma has gone to join him. Refreshed and renewed. Now they are together forever, but they will always be here in our hearts.
We love you still, and will always love you, Grampa.
Once upon a time, around 1999, I was a single mother.
