Archive for the ‘time passing’ Category

You Don’t Have to be Italian

Friday, March 1st, 2013

mad pasta

♪♫•*♥ “You Don’t Have To Be Italian” by Pat Cooper (aka Pasquale Caputo)

You Don't Have To Be Italian by Pat Cooper on Grooveshark

is one of my all-time favorite Italian-themed songs. If you’re not yet acquainted with Pasquale you can meet him at Getting Saucy with Pasquale Caputo.

I love it, but whenever I listen I’m sure to have the tissues ready. I tear up, sometimes even blubber a bit, as the song instantly transports me back a few decades. Even though it’s a happy place I end up, it makes me realize how fast life goes by, and how many precious memories I have stored in the vault between my ears.

So here I am, zapped back to our cozy wood-paneled living room at our Lehigh Street duplex in Dover, NJ. Mom and dad are hanging out on a chilly winter’s night listening to a few Pat Cooper comedy albums, and Dad takes Mom’s hand for a little twirl around the braided rug when this tune comes on. Even better, I know it was one of their favorites too.

It’s really about the little things in life, isn’t it?

pat coop

What songs or comedians bring you back? I’d love to hear about them, so don’t be shy, please share!

p.s. If you cannot see the SONG PLAY link above, just click HERE.

My Beloved Bull & Total Bull$%#!

Wednesday, January 30th, 2013

“If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bull.” ~ W. C. Fields

Some precious objects we own and adore, break. Family heirlooms can be destroyed by a hurricane, pipes can burst (been there, done that) and horrid fire damage can break you into a million pieces just thinking about beloved possessions lost.

Ever since I was crawling around on the floor as a little one, I remember Dad having this bull on his dresser. Dad was a Taurus, and I believe Mom bought it for him as a birthday gift after I was born. (Mr. Bull’s close up below.)

bull1

At night, the bull had the task of keeping Dad’s wallet tucked in its back, and Dad’s watch perched around its horns. He always did a fine job, that little bull, and I was always fascinated with it for some reason.

(ITALIAN LESSON: Bull = Toro)

Fast forward a few decades when Mom & Dad were having some financial issues (caused by a certain family member, a.k.a. “user” who shall remain nameless), and had to put many of their belongings in storage between moving to a new house. Ok, so far, it sounds like something many may have had to struggle with. Only it gets bumped up a notch, since this “user” never paid the storage fees as he was supposed to, and my parents had their heads in the sand, and the place ended up being bulldozed to make way for another dreaded mini-mall.

Dad’s bull, along with thick photo albums, keepsakes, tons of loose family photos, my Grandmother’s china from Sicily, a few fine antiques, and my father’s “famous” Knights-of-Columbus gear — all swept away in an afternoon, or most likely sold to some vultures at auction. I know Mom had a hard time telling me about this, because she knows I’m a very sentimental person.

Ok, I better stop here, because it’s a very sore spot for me, and you know what I am capable of (referencing Shaken Laptop Syndrome.) I can’t even bring myself to ever watch Storage Wars, because I find myself getting sad, angry and overwhelmed.

You may wonder how I have this bull photographed. Well, I hunted one down and found him — the exact one, GRAZIE EBay! I’ll just keep pretending it is Dad’s. ♥

Please tell me about something cherished you may have lost, or rediscovered — I’d love to hear about it!

Mom Always Said…

Friday, July 27th, 2012

Mom always said, “once you hit 30, time goes really really fast.” Well, maybe she only said it a few times, but DAMN IT, she wasn’t kidding!

It’s like a rollercoaster. You go CLICK, CLICK, CLICK steadily and slowly up the incline of life, and then BING! BAM! WOOOSH! Welcome to a new $%#*N decade!

Back when “Thirtysomething” debuted on ABC, I remember thinking, who the heck wants to watch a show about people in their thirties (you know, those OLD people) eeek! Now, I look back and I’d love to be 30 again — or beam me back to 13 for that matter! Yeah, if you know me & this blog by now, you know I’d go back and try to enjoy every fun-filled insane moment just a bit more.

(ITALIAN LESSON: roller coaster = montagne russe)

Short and sweet today, so thanks for stopping by — please feel free to continue my mini photo journey below (featuring Nan, Poppa, Mom & Me) or share a comment about what age you’d go back to (if you would). I’d love to hear your thoughts!


Be sure to share “YOUR” decade below in the comments section. GRAZIE!

Mourning Mom: this can’t be real

Wednesday, December 8th, 2010

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.”

Not to sound cliché, but this is by far the hardest, most heart-wrenching post I have written so far.  Honestly, if anything else in the next decade comes anywhere near this, immediately find me a stiff new straitjacket, so I can throw myself into a padded room — forever.

Ok, here comes the hard part, words I thought I would not have to write about for at least another decade:  Mom is gone.  My wonderful witty mom passed away in her sleep Thanksgiving morning.  No warning, no illness, no clues, no nothing, no mom. Mom is gone. Mom is gone. I have to repeat myself over and over, because I just cannot believe it’s real. I’m hoping my next post is about the coma I’ve been in for the past week or so — I’ll write about how when I awoke, mom was there with one of her famous QVC jewelry trinkets for me to open, and a pot of her famous spaghetti sauce bubbling away on the stove, so we could all get home and enjoy a  nice Italian dinner in celebration of my new coma-free existence.

Yes, mom is gone.  My house is filled with condolence cards, flowers and such very touching notes from caring family and friends, but somehow it doesn’t seem real. It CAN’T be real.  Mom was SO ALIVE, so funny, always ready with a wise-crack, or words of wisdom.  I loved her advice. She was one of my best friends in the whole world. I see the cards with her photo and a pretty poem, yet I’ll still dial her phone number and expect her to pick up.  I’ll want to call her about who was just told to f*ck off on Hell’s Kitchen, or who we think should have gotten fired on The Apprentice, or the new boots I bought, but then the cold harsh smack of reality hits me right in the face, telling me those days are over.

Mom & I would dish together, watch movies together, shop together, cook dinners (for my hubby and the furkids) together and every so often I’d mix up a couple of whiskey sours and mom would share her humorous and wonderful stories which fill a small notebook of mine.

Loss of any kind is a real tough pill to swallow,  and when you lose a mom and a best friend, you feel like your heart is literally ripping apart. With that said, I think I’ll mix up two whiskey sours, leaving one on the coffee table in mom’s honor.   I just hope I don’t water them down with all of my tears.

Mom, you will be missed

Love you & miss you forever Mom

xo Your daughter

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