It's Where the Heart is..........

In another time, in another medium, as a reaction to an unfortunate medical episode, I wrote:


"Turn out the lights, put all the kids to bed.
Life as we know it is over.
Peter Pan is dead."

.......................


I was getting up from my computer chair about 4 weeks ago, and my back felt uncomfortable. The discomfort lasted about 10 days, occasionally growing to intense, spasmodic pain. I still suffer (silently of course) when getting up after sitting for extended periods of time.

Earlier this week, I hurt my neck, apparently from over zealously putting on my sneakers.

I have asians in my aging armor.



So, when I return home soon, I will see my Physician's Assistant to monitor my high BP, visit my Dentist to insure that adolescent years of orthodontistry are not wasted, share some quality time with my Urologist to control my kidney stones, check in with my Allergist to secure the future for Peter Pan, and .........................see a chiropractor for the first time. Pardon the repetition, but...oi vey; I have asians in my armor.



Blah, blah, blah. Truth be told, this whining has just been an excuse to revisit Peter Pan, and to create a suitable surrounding for "asians in my armor."



All that is important in the above is my admission, my affirmation, my acknowledgement, that home is where I am headed when I return to the great state of Connecticut, the serenity of New Milford, the comfort of family and friends.
It's where the heart is.............



P.S. Props to Sara for providing webcams and introducing "Skype" to us. The world is a very small place, and there is a degree of home wherever we are.

Junior High

Old news by now, but Miles'recent introduction to kindegarten has rekindled some previously repressed memories for me. No, not my first day of school; visions of that particular event, ripping me from my mother's womb, remain suspiciously buried under years of never received therapy. Still, I have to admit I recovered nicely. My elementary years were quite successful. I was smart, popular; a leader of fine young boys and girls. If you don't believe me, ask Mrs. Gould , my 4th and 5th grade teacher.



Actually, the repressed memories that have drifted to the top of my head relate to my first day of Junior High. (Mommy?)
Woe was me.
First of all, the result of some geographic mean practical joke, most of my friends went to a different school. I was a stranger in a strange land. Mulling around in the school playground, trying to be even smaller than I was (I wanted to disappear,) I bumped into a female amazon creature; one whose behavior, complexion, and language were foreign to me
"Watch it f#%ko," were the first words uttered to be me in this wholey unacceptable environment. Oi vey.

I wonder where my guardian angel was that day, as I also wonder where she was when they told me I couldn't go home for lunch; I ws jailed for the entire day, Monday thru Friday. Where was Willie when I was assigned seats alphabetically instead of by size, so I sometimes ended up in the back row, where it was determined that I couldn't see so so well. Was she visiting a sick friend when it was decided that I should get braces? Was she on a leave of absence while I took a leave of my senses, reverting from a confident little hot shot into a four eyed, metal mouthed puny little spunkless mouse?

Yet, maybe she hadn't abandoned me; maybe Willie adhered to the theory that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Truth be told (and it must be told,) I survived. Eventually, I thrived.
Not in Junior High, a putz on JHS 145, Joseph Pulitzer; but later in life.
Sure, I skated thru high school, lollygagged thru college, and demeaned myself selling sheets and towels in my early adult years.
But look at me now; an embarassment of riches. I forgive you, amazon girl. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. If I had my druthers ( and admittedly I have my druthers more often than most, though not this time,) anyway, if I had my druthers, what doesn't kill you would make you stronger and also taller.
So, hey, I'm short. But I'm happy. I laugh loud and often; smile broadly with pride and affection for my family. I done good.
And so it goes...................

Celebrity Beach

Andy Rooney and Jerry Seinfeld were at the beach recently, where I overheard the following conversation:

Andy: Do you ever think about all the things you can put in a salad? The list is unending, really.
Jerry: Whatever.

A: I like mostly vegetables; plenty of crisp lettuce. Not Romaine. Really ripe tomatoes too.
J: Yeah.

A: I like lots of ingredients; cucumbers, radishes, carrots. I used to like celery, but then I found out was allergic to it.
J: Really.

A: Some people add fruit to their salad. Apples are good, but they turn brown soon after you slice them.
J: Do you ever add sand to your salad?

A: No. That would be wrong. I recently tried avocado. I didn't think I would like it, I don't like guacamole. "Guacamole," that's a funny word, isn't it?
J: Hilarious.

A: I didn't know what to do with the avocado; it didn't come with instructions.
J: You have to peel it and remove the pit.

A: Oh. I ate the pit. I didn't like it. I had to go to the dentist. Now I drool alot because my teeth are out of alignment.
J: Well, now you know.

A: Mmmmm.
J: I just buy salad in a bag. You should try it.

A: Does it come with the dressing in the bag?
J: No. That would be wrong.

A: I like croutons, crumbled blue cheese, and something crunchy. A festival of tastes, textures, and colors.
J: Whatever.