More Anniversaries

August 31, the anniversary of the birth of the miracle Mi***ani triplets! Happy birthday, Julianne, Chelsea, C.J. I hear your parents bought you a brand new car. Nice!

August 31 is also the wedding anniversary of my parents. They have been married for 71 years.

(Why a church that believes in the hereafter suggests that marriage ends when death parts you is beyond my comprehension.)

But, the anniversary I will elaborate on occurred a couple of month's ago. With retirement, travel, etc., I missed it.

Happy 2nd anniversary to the Guastello's and the Pokrinchak's; living, laughing, thriving under one roof since June 23, 2006. Who said it couldn't be done?

The work on the house addition was performed by some guy named Pete, from Woodbury. The foundation, of course, was provided by Grandma and Grandpa Guastello.

I've stated before that the decision to add an in-law apartment to this house, meant to provide security and comfort for my parents, has provided those same unexpected blessings for Geeg and Pop. (And, we get to snowbird!).

We also enjoy the music of family life; a chorus of childish giggles, tossed and fallen toys, pitter, pattering feet. Shoeless scampering is most charming. When the boys are playing with Mommy's shoes, the stomping can be grating, especially when Kirk is playing. Landon's frequent but somewhat gentle demands that he be held are tender and sweet, but the occasional 45 minute refrain of "I want a donut" won't be programmed on my IPOD any time soon.

It's a pleasure to hear little voices asking an unending stream of questions, knowing that we don't have to answer them. The boys are a constant source of pure delight as they tell us of their plans for the day in the morning, then recount the events of the day in the evening. Yes, the "big house" is an entertainment palace.

So, thanks to Julie and Kirk, Miles and Landon, for being such cheerful and accomodating landlords, family, friends.

We'll try not to overstay our welcome.

Please continue to visit us downstairs whenever you like. Our door is always open since Kirk changed the locks.

Hey, how 'bout that circle of life?

And so it goes..............

BREAKING NEWS!

Tina Fey is running for the office of Vice President of the United States!

Or is it Megan Mullally?

Religion and Politics

I occasionally go to mass during the week, to pray, not surprisingly, for warm,sunny days. I also go to acknowledge the many blessings I have received. ( I'm really very spiritual, in my own freakin' way.) Today's readings referred to people giving too much importance to themselves, thinking they are god-like.

I was reminded of a book I recently read; my first Robert Ludlum. It features a rogue undercover agent with powers, not super human, but extraordinary beyond acceptable bounds of belief. The plot involves a philanthropist that suffers through the ordeals of trying to do the most good, for the most people, while minimizing, but accepting detrimental results for a minority.

He is playing God.

It's a tough gig; I give credit to all the real Divine Beings for their relentless efforts.

Thanks be to God.

Anyway, in the book, the philanthropist gets too big for his britches, and he's brought down.

However, if you do the math, he did more good than bad. His batting average is similar to the dieties we worship, yet he was condemned. Go figure.

Politicians play God; at least the really good ones do. (The bad ones do the devil's work.) Hopefully, they make informed decisions to benefit the majority. Cynics will suggest these decisions are politically and selfishly motivated.

Probably.

Still, making decisions, even for the benefit of the majority, has got to be difficult for a moral person, aware of the negative impact on the minority. (Can you imagine sending young people off to war? I was never a fan of LBJ, proliferator of the Viet Nam war, but I do think he suffered and died prematurely, because of his godlike decisions.)

So....as I watch the political conventions with these heavy concerns to ponder, I tackle the following dilemna:

Since I now own property in Tampa, is it okay for me to be a Rays fan, and still maintain my allegiance and undying devotion to the San Francisco Giants?

What would Jesus do?

(What would David Blaine do?)

(It is now the reader's opportunity to quizzically remark "What the....?"

Hey, in Hollywood, is there a more talented person than Christopher Walken?

Anniversary

Forty years ago, Aug 22, 1968, I was an 18 year old little boy with plans to go to Connecticut for the weekend, and plans to go to college in September.

Those were the extent of my plans. Whatever else was going to happen to me was going to happen to me in apartment 4E, where my Mommy and Daddy would take care of me.

Forever.

However, August 23, 1968 turned out to be an eventful day. The lazy, listless path I was on turned into a spiral staircase to the heavens.

I met Geeg.

Together, we have written many chapters. All have humor, drama, charm. Each has a happy ending.

When I count my blessings, Geeg's number comes up frequently.
When I consider the best days of my life, I consider Super Bowl victories, births, weddings.

I consider, I cherish August 23, 1968.

Happy Anniversary Pat.





I am Pop.

I am Lucky Man.

I am hopeless romantic.

And as Samson said to Delilah, "my hair is out of control. Any suggestions?"

Project CATCH

Some of you may recall (from experience or Julie's blog), my baseball training practices for Miles, starting when he was a mere infant. I used to throw a ball at him. Literally throw it AT him. To try to hit him. I didn't want Miles to ever be afraid of a ball. However, my methods seemed to have caused trauma, rather than immunity from the dreaded sphere.

The theory was sound, but initial results (4 + yrs) were less than favorable. Miles would flinch away from any ball thrown in his direction. Loved to hit, throw, and run; not a big fan of catching.

Until now!

That's my buddy Miles during our now ritualistic daily catch. What an athlete! (What a coach.)

Next project: teach Landon to run like a little boy, and not like a little penguin.

(My first videos - props to Julie, my blog mentor.)

I am Pop.

I am Casey Stengel.

Oh, and I'm also Ace Ventura!

Double Wave

I grew up ( as much as I did) in an apartment house in Jackson Heights, New York. Whenever I left the house, my mother would kiss me good bye at the door, then head to the window of our fourth floor apartment, to wave good bye to me as I left the building.

As a young child, my responding waves were cheerful, enthusiastic, appreciative.

As I grew older, my responses became less so.

Suffering from the malaise that is teenage adolescence, my responses deteriorated to half hearted and, unfortunately, half assed.


No more.


When my boys, my buddies, my pals, Miles and Landon, leave the house these days, I respond with some cheerful and hopefully endearing variation of a "double wave." I enthusiastically wave both arms to elicit smiles and laughter.





One arm wave is for my grandsons.





The other is for my Mom.





Happy Birthday, Grandma. Keep smiling.

Into the Lion's Den

Sun worshipper that I am, some would say that my natural habitat is the devil's playground.
So, it was with some trepidation that I made an appointment to see a dermatologist.
Still, I have survived 58 years of golden rays; what do I care what some skin freak thinks?

Initial indications at the office were good. The receptionist was as dark and adorable as yours truly. (She may have been of Indian descent.) The doctor's assistant was equally dark.
(She may have been African American.)

To protect the innocent, I will not give my doctor's real name, but it was something like "Vivian Italiano." I thought my chances were pretty good; I looked forward to meeting an olive skinned simpatico.

I was not prepared for Edgar Winter's daughter. (admittedly, this is an obscure reference: Winters was an Albino rocker of the 70's.)







My ghostly doctor greeted me with an icy stare, and a disdainful announcement that she would not say another word. Not surprisingly, she couldn't help remarking that she couldn't believe I was in her office. She sarcastically followed with "so, do you live on the beach?" I gleefully responded, "as a matter of fact, I do!"

Incredibly, I've never been more comfortable in a doctor's office, clothed in nothing more than my underwear and a hospital gown. So, after a cursory review of my epidermis, and an apparently inadvertant snapping of my underpants, I remained completely content in my own skin.

Much to her dismay, Dr Italiano reluctantly announced that there was surprisingly no evidence of skin damage on my person. (I think she was disappointed.)

Once again, I have flaberghasted the medical profession!

I am Pop.

I am Jimbo.

I AM Peter Pan.



I am Medical Marvel. (Call me "Double M.")







Yada, yada, yada.... doc agreed to join me at a "clothing optional" beach next winter.



(I can be soooo charming.)

Some Days

Some days are better than others, but........................

They are all good!

(This entry pays homage to the blog stylings of Sara G)

Dr. Dolittle

I had my annual physical this week. Turns out, I'm as healthy as a horse; albiet a fat one.

My cholesterol is under control; my "good" cholesterol is amazingly good, much to the chagrin of every doctor I've ever seen. Appparently, my physique does not fit the profile.

Blood pressure needs to drop some, but a new dose of medication, and continued relaxation, should remedy that. I can afford to lose a few pounds; my next haircut should suffice.

I complained about soreness in the back of my foot. After some careful scrutiny, my Physician's Assistant determined I have "Achilles Tendonitus." I literally have an "achilles heel!"

(As well as some figurative ones.......)

Doc suggested I get new sneakers with a "medial roll bar" or an "anti pronation device."

Sounds expensive. I may just quit walking.

Unfortunately, any thoughts of ever running the New Milford 8k race ever again are dashed by this debillitating condition. (get it? - running, dashed?)

Instead I hope to continue my career as a road race groupie, encouraging daughters, son in law, and who know who else next year.

I also hope to remain a low maintenance patient, so my doctor can continue to do little.

(Get it, "do little?" Dr. Dolittle?)

Groan............