Roots

The glorious and majestic Mt. Timpanogas!

Come on over to Segullah for some good reading and hopefully enlightening discussion.

The Good, The Bad, and the Really Ugly

In my lonely state, with the wife and kids gone, what am I to do with my free time in this big city? Really, anything I want. NY offers an unlimited amount of entertainments, social experiences, and cultural events. The sky's the limit. And now that I have the time to soak it all in, what do I do with my free time? ............ go the movies.

Yes, I've been watching way too many movies over the last week or so. I've been able to do this, because I've had entire evenings or days free, and I love seeing movies in theaters. It's just not the same on the small screen. Also, the great thing about NY movie theaters, many of them are HUGE 25 screen, multi-storied theaters, perfect for doubling or tripling your experience. That's all I will say about that. Yes, I'm bad. But when you pay $12.75 for a ticket, I like to get my money's worth. And I don't mind sitting in a dark theater for 6-9 hours at a time. Before you judge me, remember, there are a lot worse things I could be doing here in the city while my wife's away. Right?

Here is a spackling of movies I've seen very recently - with grades. For the most part, the following are all typical Summer popcorn flicks with little substance, but there are a couple great ones as well. (note: some of them I only saw as time fillers until the next good movie)

• Wall-E - A
  Genius!

• Iron Man - A-
  Quality movie all-around
  

• Kung Fu Panda - B+
  Amazing animation

• Hancock - B
  Unique and fun, but hoping for a little more. Bateman is perfect.
  

• Indiana Jones - B
  Fun, with great visuals

• The Incredible Hulk - B
  Better than expected

• Wanted - B
  Too gory, but good

• Sex and the City - B-
  Too long

• Get Smart - B-
  Not terrible

• The Love Guru - C-
  Expected bafoonery

• The Happening - D-
  The Worst Movie in History!

RECAP

The past few weeks/months have a been a whirlwind, to say the least. Since baby Stella was born, the regular routine of life has really been thrown out of wack....in a good way.

Stella is now almost 5 months old, and getting cuter and cuter.

Margaret finished pre-school and the nasty sty is finally going away.

Cole is allowing his personality to really "blossom". (that's a nice way of saying he's testing his limits with us everyday)

At the beginning of June, we went to the Herrick family reunion in SoCal (or Southern California if you're uncool). My family (Mother, 7 siblings, 7 spouses and 35 children) stayed for 5 days in a cheap, but fun, motel about 5 blocks from Disneyland. We Disneyed two days, and beached two days, and generally hung out. It was very fun, but not very relaxing. When you have children in three separate categories for 'ride going' at Disneyland, it can get very tiresome and frustrating. Especially trying to coordinate with the other little cousins, etc... But Margaret and Cole had a blast.

Straight from California, Heather and the kids drove back to Utah with my family, as I returned to NYC with my Mother and 4 nieces. They had their "Grandma trip". So upon returning from California, I was thrust into touring them around the city for five days. Again, crazy, not restful, but fun. We tried the Wicked ticket lottery four times, and won three times. Very lucky. Everyone saw Wicked and 2 other shows, in addition to seeing the entire city and eating great food. I think they were a little culture shocked, but had a good time.

Back in Utah, Heather's brother, Jeff, got married last week. So she wasn't able to relax much either. The kids have had fun spending time with their other cousins.

Pictures of these events are forthcoming. Heather has the camera in Utah.

So here I am, in NY, all by myself until July 12. I really miss Heather and the kids. Mornings are the hardest. Waking up to an empty apartment, without little voices. Since I'm so used to being smothered with hugs and kisses everyday, being alone is really hard......but.......I can sleep in on weekends... and that's nice.

I will persevere. And for your enjoyment....

Consistent Dedication

Well, it's official.....I'm an obsessive, inconsistent idiot. Why you may ask? Because I REALLY fell of the blogging wagon. I wanted to make writing/blogging/journaling/declaring/punditing/sharing a routine in my life. And what happens, I disappear for three months.

I am disappointed in myself once again. You can ask my wife, I often go through phases or obsessions. I go gung-ho, then fizzle away onto the next phase or obsession. I didn't want my blogging to be that.....at least the fizzle part. And it did. If I had a picture of me feeling like a schlumpy loser, in blogging fashion, I would put it

HERE

(schlumpy loser)

In order to remedy my loseriness (good word, huh), I'm going back on the wagon, and not in an obsessive way, but a naturally consistent and moderately habitual way......kind of like brushing your teeth. Looking back at my few short months of good blogging, I came to appreciate the power of recording. And what better way than blogging, in our digital age, is there to record who you are, junk and all, for your future self and posterity. The info will forever float in the blogosphere and won't be lost forever, say...... in a freak house fire or tornado.

I think this is important. I wish I knew what my father believed and felt about the world when he was a young father. Maybe I would discover that he also had an inconsistent, obsessive nature. Then I wouldn't feel so bad about myself......because I could blame him. And doesn't displacing the blame make everyone feel better about themselves? Then 20 yrs. from now, my son, Cole, will feel better about his crazy neurosis, because he can blame me......or choose to be better than me, and take responsibility for his own issues.

Hopefully, this public(albeit small) declaration will keep me motivated and accountable for consistent entries.

"Let it be written, Let it be done!"
- Yul Brynner in The Ten Commandments

A Sweet Mess

So, we've been tired, busy, running races, having birthdays and stuff. We have left you in the blog reader lurch, and we're sorry. We'll try to do better.

I blogged at Segullah today. Read it, enjoy!

Pictures to come back and look for soon: Margaret's birthday; Stella's blessing; Heather, Natalie, Carol, Nicole, and Jake's half marathon;and maybe more.

Momentous

Please watch this speech.

With all politics and partisanship aside, I, as an American that believes in truth and equality, urge you to listen to his words. It will move and inspire both tears and action.

It's 38 minutes long. But definitely a good substitute to your regular viewing of "Flava of Love"...... right?

For full text and video, go to http://my.barackobama.com/page/content/hisownwords/

Philadelphia, PA | March 18, 2008
"A More Perfect Union"

What do you think of his message?

Do you believe in the actual power of words? And, can/will they instigate action/change?

Will this a speech, as many pundits have said, "... be published in textbooks....alongside the Gettysburg Address and Dr. King's 'I Have A Dream' speech..."?

Health

A couple nights ago, Heather and I had a funny prayer moment.

During our prayer, Heather gave thanks for "the health we all enjoy", then immediately proceeded to ask,

"...bless Cole, that his cough will go away, so he can sleep..."

"...bless Matt, that his cold can get better..."

"...bless Margaret, that her eye(a nasty stye) will heal..."

I irreverently laughed, inside, for the rest of her prayer. It was a very telling moment of the gratitude Heather carries in her heart.

Yes, although we have things that ail us, and we are all very slowly falling apart, we are very, very healthy in so many ways.

And that is truly something to enjoy!

Aiutami

Risk is everything
Without risk there is no drama
Without drama there is no "aiutami"
Without asking for help
No love, no love
- the Light in the Piazza -
Adam Guettel
2005

Aiutami!!!

That is the cry....."Help me!" in Italian. The passage is from one of the greatest musicals ever produced. These words have been in my head all day.

I'm sitting here at my job in the law firm, providing support for my family......gratefully. I'm sitting here at my day job in the law firm......longing to not be here. I'm sitting here at my job in the law firm......aching to feel creative.

Aiutami!!!

One of my fellow legal secretaries is out for the day. They placed a 'floater' in her stead. She 's knew. She's nice. She's a middle-aged, beautiful Greek woman named Evangelia. I didn't talk to her much of the morning as I stared blankly at my computer screen hoping to find a mental escape somewhere on the net.

Then she asked me, "So....are you an actor?"

"Yep", I responded flatly.
.
.
.
pause
.
.
.
"What makes you ask?", said my ego-driven, prodding self.

"It's because you have such great teeth.......nice smile......an actor's smile", she said.

"Thanks", I said perking up a bit.

Now she had my attention. I know it's terrible. But I needed something, today, to drag me out of my self-loathing doldrum.

After conversing for a while, I learned that she is an opera singer turned actress. Not only that, she has been on Broadway in three productions. Three of the greatest in the last 10 yrs. Baz Lurhmann's La Boheme, Coram Boy, and The Light in the Piazza.

In adoration, I showered her with questions about her experience in 'Piazza', how she got where she did, and what her future plans were. She said she has been very blessed, but has to pay the bills like everyone else. So, she took a 'floater' job at my law firm.

Aiutami!!!

The entire scenario made me very sad. Here is a beautiful, close-to-retirement, talented artist, that really 'made it' to the major leagues of our profession. And that profession dumped her out into the gutters of unemployment.

Yes, she now has a good job, completely unrelated to the theatre. And I'm sure she is grateful for it. But aren't there guarantees? Aren't there entitlements? Isn't she deserving of a life doing what she loves and is best at?

Aiutami!!!

I know I'm really just starting out on my journey, even 15 yrs. into it. But I pray that I will eventually be able to solely do what I am passionate about.

For now, in my pursuit, I am a slave to survival. And thank goodness....I am not content.

This is wanting something,

this is reaching for it,
This is wishing that a moment would arrive.
This is taking chances,
this is almost touching,
what the beauty is.
- the Light in the Piazza -
Adam Guettel
2005

Anomaly

As Spring approaches and the weather turns brighter, many people get the jogging 'bug' or 'fever'. They lace up the running shoes and hit the trails. They set goals of weight loss, distance, or time. They dream of finally running that 10K, triathlon, or marathon come summer/fall.

Last summer/fall, when I was training for my marathon, I was told that once I complete my first marathon, I would have the 'bug' to run more. I followed the rigorous training program, which should have established healthy, desirable habits. I completed the race faster than I anticipated and enjoyed the race experience. But guess what, it's been 5 months since I ran my marathon, and I am still 'bug' free. I have absolutely no desire to run another race, or even jog for enjoyment.

Mile 25

I don't like running. I abhor the training. I hate the way you have to schedule your life around your mileage. And, to top it off, I GAINED about 25 lbs. You're supposed to get skinny when you run 20-30 miles a week.

The "run a marathon" box on my life-list has been checked, and I'm moving on. I will probably run a few miles here and there for health reasons, but never again will I train for a big race.

Am I alone in my apathy? Am I a bad person for feeling this way? Am I the marathon running anomaly? Please let me know that it's ok to hate something that you shouldn't.

HIGHLIGHT

My daughter, Margaret, loves to talk. She loves to pontificate on the details of every event in her life. She pretty much does the same things every day - morning shows, pre-school, play ground, meals, and bedtime.

Since I don't see my kids all day long, when I get home, I try my best to take time and ask them how their day went.

From Cole, I usually get a very LOUD and fast couple sentences that have something to do with dinosaurs, horsies, or trucks. He delivers it with such breathless urgency that it sounds like he just finished a world-record 100 meter dash.













From Margaret, I get a minute by minute, friend by friend, activity by activity account of the entire day. With her commentary added in, it can take quite a while to get it out.

Recently, I tried to put a healthy 'boundary' on her description of the day. I asked her to share the HIGHLIGHT of her day. She didn't quite get what I meant. I defined, and she delivered.....after much thought. She likes boundaries, and I like brevity(although I don't use it). It's a win-win.

Since then, her favorite word is HIGHLIGHT. "Daddy, you're home.....what was the HIGHTLIGHT of your day?", or "well....I played at Petra's house for a while, and the HIGHLIGHT was when....". It's quite amusing to watch her little head realize she is using a grown-up word, and see her filled with pride as she emphasizes her new found vocabulary.

Last night, I came home around 10 pm, and had not seen the kids all day. Mom and the kids were asleep. I peeked my head in the kids' room, and to my surprise, Margaret was awake, quietly singing along with Maria on "I Have Confidence". She was thrilled that I discovered her. After a very busy week, I felt she needed some 'daddy' time. I asked her if she wanted to get out of bed and talk for a minute. So even though it was way past her bed time(she's is a night owl, just like dad), we went out to the front room and had a little catch-up.

I asked her how her day went(with healthy boundaries). Her HIGHLIGHT was movie-night with Mom and Cole. Specifically, watching the family Robinson throw coconut bombs at those pesky pirates. And what would you guess, the first question for me out of her mouth was, "what was the HIGHLIGHT of your day, Daddy"?

I sat there for a moment, with Margaret on my lap, deeply thinking about what I could share. I then had a sudden rush of sadness and disappointment knowing that I did not have a HIGHLIGHT that day. Not knowing what to say, I told her that my HIGHLIGHT was talking to her right then. Because it was.

She gave me a big hug/little hug and big kiss/little kiss(the routine she created when she was two). That moment ended up being the HIGHLIGHT of my week.

I guess we all have days, every now and then, void of a HIGHLIGHT. But Margaret always has a HIGHLIGHT. She can always find a moment of wonder or excitement, even in her own monotonous schedule of morning shows, pre-school, play grounds, meals and bedtime.

I am always learning so much from her goodness and wisdom. I am going to try to have HIGHLIGHT- filled days, every day. Even if the one HIGHLIGHT is a simple conversation with someone I love.

Share a recent HIGHLIGHT you've had.

Shifting Gears

Stella is three and a half weeks old now. More than one person has asked me if it has gone by fast. The answer to that is, no. When days and nights blend together with only brief periods of sporadic sleep to separate them, time does not fly. That is not to say I haven't enjoyed her very much. There's nothing much sweeter than holding a warm cuddly newborn up against your shoulder and breathing in the pheromones, or love hormones as I like to call them. I think these love hormones spread over to Matt as well when I'm nursing in bed in the middle of the night. He seems like the perfect husband and father during that time.

My question is, how come they don't seem to extend to my other two kids? I love them dearly, now don't get me wrong. But these hormones afford me oodles of patience as I am bouncing a fussy baby alone in the middle of the night. So why is that patience instantly tried the moment Cole climbs onto my lap to kiss the baby while I'm nursing? Is it the split personality phenomenon? The way that my relatively agreeable, obedient two-and-a-half year old has suddenly turned into the most contrary child on the planet. His automatic response to every request or directive is, "No!" or "I don't want to!" I've had to come up with things he wants to do even less than what I've asked him to do, so he'll choose my original request just to spite me (pretty ingenius, no?). I knew a change was coming, but I forgot how taxing it can be on a sleep-deprived mama. Margaret, who was referred to as PMG (Perfect Margaret Gayle) by our brothers and sisters when she was a baby and toddler became a different person when we brought Cole home from the hospital. We named her alter ego, Margarita, the evil twin. It passed, as I'm sure Cole's mood swings will. So I just have to keep reminding myself of that.


At least, or I could say at most Cole and Margaret LOOOOVE baby Stella and want to kiss her, hold her, entertain her every chance they get. All disobedience and moodiness has been turned to me, and thankfully I am mature enough to handle it . . .if the love hormones are lingering.We will find our new groove. Right?


Speaking of love, Matt and I celebrated our 7th Anniversary last Saturday. I'm surprised he hasn't posted about it. Too wrapped up with his reality TV I suppose ;-). However, he did not disappoint. He made reservations at a beautiful little restaurant called New Leaf Cafe in Fort Tryon Park near our house. Grandma Margaret was still here, so we had a built in babysitter and enjoyed a night out. I did my hair and put on make-up for the first time in a couple of weeks and even squeezed into a pair of nylons (gag, but they do hold in the extra baby squish that's hanging around my middle, so that's a good thing). We ordered appetizers (calamari with mint coolie, lump crab cake), dinner (sirlion tip/short ribs in a rich stout sauce, duck in a blood orange sauce), and dessert (chocolate tart with homemade Tahitian vanilla ice cream and apple upside down tart with homemade caramel ice cream. Everything was presented beautifully and oh so tasty.)

Here we are presenting skinny faces, although admittedly at this point in our marriage we're both feeling just a tad bit "fat".

And here we are in front of the lovely New Leaf Cafe.

And in honor of our 7th anniversary may I present:

Seven Reasons I don't have the "Itch"
(Be cautioned, you may feel jealous after reading this!)

1. Matt makes occasions special (a random sampling: homemade spa night for Valentine's Day, redecorating while we're away in Utah so that the place is beautiful when we come home, daddy/daughter or son dates on Saturday)

2. He makes a mean chocolate mousse.

3. He calls on his way home from the train to see if I need him to stop and get anything at the store (he's willing to get anything I need, like a bag of peanut m & m's if it's been one of those days or simply a gallon of milk).

4. He puts me to bed and then keeps Stella in the other room and cuddles her so I can get at least a couple of good hours of sleep every night.

5. He works hard to make time for our family, making sure to fit in FHE, even if it can't be Monday, and planning another night home every week to be here so we can do the laundry (and lately it has really been so HE can do the laundry, not WE).

6. Throughout the year he keeps a list of ideas for Christmas gifts and gives me the best surprises. Something I may have mentioned wanting or needing in September shows up under the Christmas tree. It's not that I need gifts, but this is an example of how incredibly thoughtful he is.

7. I'm making Matt sound perfect, but he's not. And that's the seventh reason I don't have the itch. He just tries hard, and we work hard together to make our family life one that brings us joy and peace. We enjoy life together and help each other learn from what's happening. Life is good, it's fun and I have a partner who is patient when challenges come up, but also who celebrates with me when things are going great.

I love you Matt! Happy Anniversary!

BAGONG WIKA NA !!!

For some reason, I have recently been overwhelmed with a desire to learn another language(s). I can't explain it. I feel I need to. And I want to.

Does anyone else feel this way? Is this a phase?



At this point, I consider myself bi-lingual. English being my first language of proficiency, and TAGALOG(Filipino) being my second. Tagalog is to Filipino as Elizabethan English is to contemporary American English. I speak and understand both.

I learned Tagalog about 12 yrs. ago when I lived in the Philippines for two years, and subsequently taught it, translated it, and continue to speak it whenever I can. In a practical sense, it's a useless language for a white, American, English speaker to know. But even so, it enriches my life. And it instantly creates a kinship with any Filipino I meet. And when we delivered our last baby, Heather got a private recovery room with a window overlooking the Hudson for FREE because I chatted up the Filipina nursing staff. It finally paid off!

I want to start right away.
My goal is to be somewhat conversational by the end of the year.

WHAT LANGUAGE SHOULD I LEARN?

I know that SPANISH would be the obvious choice, since I live in a country with a quickly growing Latino population. That would be the most "practical" choice, domestically. But to be honest, I have always had an aversion to Spanish. Don't hate me. But I have no desire to learn it. I never have. Maybe that's why I was sent, as a missionary, to the most obscure country with one of the most difficult languages possible....as punishment for my snobbery.


My gut tells me to learn CHINESE. As China is strengthening it's influence throughout the world, I feel it will be important to be able to communicate well with 20% of the world that speaks Mandarin. I want my kids to learn it. Even though they are growing up in a 80% Dominican, Spanish speaking neighborhood. And, I have been a closeted CHINO-PHILE ever since I saw The Last Emporer as a child.


I studied FRENCH for two years in high school, and all I can remember is how to count to ten , say "I am a garcon that likes fromage", and "sleep with me tonight"(not from school). Pathetic. At one time, French was a powerful language second only to English. I think it's importance in the world is dwindling. AND, my wife speaks French(well....Quebecois).


Maybe ARABIC. After all, if that dead-beat, McCain, gets in the white-house, we will be occupying Arabic nations for the next 100 years.


Lastly, maybe I should learn DUTCH as a tribute to my heritage. My father's ancestry is almost 400 yrs. American, and his mother was Dutch. My mothers ancestry is English and French.



I need your opinion. And, what are some good independent methods of learning, that you know of? I hear Rosetta is good. Any others?

Help me get my fix, before my desire dwindles away.

Finishing the Hat

I am feeling warm feelings today toward a particular piece of theatre. I feel it is one of the most richly complex and emotionally real pieces in American theatre.

SUNDAY in the PARK with GEORGE

From Wikipedia:

Sunday in the Park with George is a musical with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and book by James Lapine. The musical was inspired by the painting "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" by Georges Seurat. A complex work revolving around a fictionalized Seurat immersed in singleminded concentration while painting the masterpiece, its Broadway production was greeted with mixed praise by the critics, but it has enjoyed several major revivals.

Nominated for ten Tony Awards, the musical won only two design awards but won numerous Drama Desk Awards and the 1985 Pulitzer Prize for Drama. The 2008 Broadway revival is the 2005-06 UK production first presented at the Menier Chocolate Factory.

STEPHEN SONDHEIM

I first fell in love with this show when I was about 15. Through all of my schooling and performing, it has maintained as my personal favorite. Something about it's search for beauty in art and the human soul, makes me want to cry.

Sondheim is a genius, if you didn't already know. His ability to marry music and lyric is unsurpassed by any other musical theatre composer. With Sunday in the Park....more than any of his other shows, he allows his complex, and surprisingly singable, yet atonal melodies really follow the emotional baseline of the characters. So often in musical theatre, the music is emotionally saying something contradictory to what the character is saying and feeling. Not in Sunday...

I hear the Broadway revival that opened last week is just as good, if not better than the original with Mandy Patinkin and Bernadette Peters. It's an extension from a London production that won practically every Olivier Award(UK's Tony Award). I can't wait to see it. I have never actually seen a live production of it, only a video of the original Broadway cast. I hope this new production lives up to the visions in my head and feelings in my heart when I listen to or sing it in my world. I am glad it's getting another look after almost 25 years.

Here are links to purchase the Original Broadway Cast and the London revival production.

























If you haven't heard this score, please take a couple hours and enrich your life. If you want some ITunes selections, I would recommend...

Sunday in the Park with George - Bernadette at her best
Color and Light - a musically pointillist look at creation
Finishing the Hat - George's personal battle between art and human intimacy
We Do Not Belong Together - the best breakup scene in the world
Move One - the best breakup "closure" scene in the world
Sunday - pure genius


FINISHING THE HAT

Yes, she looks for me . . . . Good.
Let her look for me to tell me why she left me
as I always knew she would.
I had thought she understood.
They have never understood, and no reason that they should.
But if anybody could . . . .

Finishing the hat--how you have to finish the hat.
How you watch the rest of the world from a window
while you finish the hat.
Mapping out a sky . . . what you feel like, planning a sky . . .
What you feel when voices that come through the window
go, until they distance and die
Until there's nothing but sky.

And how you're always turning back too late
from the grass, or the stick, or the dog, or the light
How the kind of woman willing to wait's not
the kind that you want to find waiting
to return you to the night, dizzy from the height
Coming from the hat
Studying the hat
Entering the world of the hat
Reaching through the world of the hat like a window
Back to this one, from that.
Studying a face . . . stepping back to look at a face
Leaves a little space in the way, like a window
But to see . . . it's the only way to see

And when the woman that you wanted goes,
you can say to yourself, "Well, I give what I give!"
But the woman who won't wait for you knows
that however you live, there's a part of you
always standing by, mapping out the sky

Finishing a hat
Starting on a hat.
Finishing a hat.
Look, I made a hat--
Where there never was a hat!


Other musicals of note by Stephen Sondheim - My favorites - all amazing!

A Little Night Music
Sweeney Todd
Company
Into the Woods
Passion

Back to Life....Back to Reality

Just as those wise chanteuses, En Vogue, sang circa 1990, we are back to life and reality, without the support of Grandma help. (well, they didn't actually sing about grandma, but you get my drift)



And it just so happens I was cast in a workshop of a new musical that is taking me out of the home for most of the week. Yes, I am abandoning my wife and kids in their hour of need.

For all those sisters out there in the RS that believe my wife doesn't want meals, because of my "progressive fathering" post ...



...you are free to cook, serve, and deliver whatever delicacy you desire.

Why?

Because first and foremost, my wife doesn't share my views surrounding the archaic tradition of food delivery, and secondly, I really am not able to cook for them this week.

I stand humbled and ashamed of my obstinate and unhealthily independent, selfish heart.

The Power of the Post

Apparently, my previous post regarding the snow drought in NYC fulfilled its mission. My post summoned the storm, and I walked out of my building this morning to a beautiful blanket of fluffy snow on everything in sight.

Below is a pictorial tribute to the wonder that is NYC under snow. Click on images for larger versions.

Enjoy.

I've Got the Fever!

I am going to publicly admit my love for...

"America's Next Top Model"

Last night was the "Cycle 10" premiere. Note, Tyra Banks produces a new season about every six months or so. At least it seems like it. 10 yrs. ago, Tyra was still just a successful model. Not media mogul, up-and-coming Oprah Jr.

My mother is staying with us, and subsequently sleeps in our living room. So unless she wore earplugs and averted her eyes, she was cornered into joining me and Heather in our shameful, contest-tv, "I shouldn't be watching this" addiction.

I have to say, I think it's going to be a good cycle this time 'round. This year, there are a lot of girls with a lot of spunk and "no you di'nt" attitutde.

A five-minute sampling of 'tude' highlights and wacky judge antics...

Minute 23: "Shut up, bitch! You're dead in my book!"
Minute 24: [Sobs. Hugs. Sobs. Hugs.] "I could never do nothin' like that. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Wahhh..."
Minute 25: "Bitch, if you touch me, you're gonna die!"
Minute 28: The judges pretend to drink a contestant's breast milk.

In order to increase the drama, the judges are always trying to "therapize" the models by having them release their past abuses, insecurities, and painful childhoods on national tv. I feel it's morally reprehensible, but........extremely entertaining and exploitative.

It usually takes me about 4-5 episodes before I can determine a winner. And I have been right multiple times. But this year, I am going out on a limb and proclaiming America's Next Top Model to be....

FATIMA

Fatima hails from motherland Africa, but has grown up in Boston. Her big breakdown story was the tribal female circumcision performed on her when she was a girl. And I admit, that is one of the worst I've heard. Also, it brings attention to that terrible global issue. Just as Heather, from Cycle 9, brought attention to Asperger's Syndrome, a form of autism. But I don't think they will be bringing up her circumcision throughout the season. At least I hope they don't. It would be kind of awkward if they did.

Granted, in all 9 "cycles" of this show, they have never turned out a highly successful and recognizable model. But I believe that one day, Tyra will ultimately discover the next version of herself, Cindi, Naomi, Giselle, Heidi or Kate. And until that day happens, I will be in front of the TV, rooting on all those insecure, emaciated wannabes on their desperate attempt at success for doing nothing but being pretty.

SNOW DAY!!!

Not really...

I'm posting as a way of electronically "rain dancing" the snow to me, just as our Native American friends do in times of drought.

It's February, and I am in a snow drought.

I love snow. I love the way it muffles all sound in the morning - like you're in a padded room. I like the usual warmer weather that accompanies it. I like NOT driving in it (that's why it's so great here). I like the crunch of powder under my shoes as I try to re-enact the "Footprints" poem. (no joke, I've done it once, by myself - it's hard). And mostly, I like the way it covers this concrete jungle in a blanket of clean fluffiness. All the dirt, gum stains, oil spots, and dog/human feces disappear into the cold depths of pure, frozen, flakes of white water.


This is a picture of a stunning February morning in 2006. It was a perfect Sunday morning, as we trudged through two feet of snow to our church five blocks away. My sister's family was visiting us. We had 27" of new snow in a 12 hour period. The most in recorded weather history for NYC - about 300 yrs. Something big interrupted. Everyone slowed down a little in this crazy place, things were a little more quiet, and for about two days, the snow maintained it's whiteness from eventual destruction by a million pedestrian footsteps. It was magic! ....Until Mr. Hankey emerged, once again, and proclaimed ....

"Hidee Ho" ... "You're in New York, sucka!"

The Changing of the Gaurd

It's amazing how the beautiful arrival of a baby can cause such an initial disturbance in the lives of the parents; so much so, that they require a third parent until adjustments can be made.....especially in this city.

This is my ode to the self-sacrificing women that have left their safe happy valley for the mean streets of the big apple, just to assist us in what we need while we adjust to having a third.

Margaret Gayle Herrick - age 4 1/2 - was named after these women. She has a lot to live up to.

The first assistant was Heather's mother, Grandma Gayle. She was here from a few days before Stella's birth, until just yesterday. Not only did she help with support as a birthing coach and babysitter on delivery day, she tried her best to maintain a sense of peace and tranquility in our cramped little home so mom Heather could rest and relax with the new one.

You have to understand, we don't have the comforts of suburbia such as, laundry facilities in the home, or a car, or even a space to really be alone in our 110 yr. old apartment.

-40 lbs. of laundry have to be carted, weekly, down stairs and down the block to the expensive corner laundry mat. -Groceries have to be carried or carted back home on the same said laundry cart(no bulk foods or 50-roll toilet paper packs loaded into the SUV).

-Taking our other two toddlers to/from school or playgroups, etc. while doing laundry, and picking up groceries, without anything but a stroller and the subway, is quite a physical/emotional feat.

-And finally, finding quiet solitude in our apartment for mom and the newborn is really impossible unless the other kids are out of the apartment and our neighbors have decided not to BLAST their Reggaetone music into the alley all day and night(because apparently, the whole neighborhood would like to hear this loud monotonous banging in their heads until 2 am).

So, having an extra hand for Heather, while I'm at work, to help do that laundry, and groceries, and child removal to the playground, is a HUGE blessing.

Heather and I have been "alone" without Grandma help for two days. I stayed home from work yesterday so Margaret could go to school, because new-mom Heather really shouldn't be trucking an infant and two kids on a bus ride into the Bronx yet. And the laundry had to be done. I forget how many clothes newborns go through for doing nothing all day. And, even though I'm capable of cooking food for my family, as a special Valentine's treat, Kismat Cafe blessed us with Masala, Curry, and the best seafood Kurma you could ask for (hooray for NYC delivering any kind of food to your door, even McDonalds). But today they are all alone, since I had to go back to work.

Comforting a bruised Cole-noggin

Thankfully, tomorrow is the changing of the Grandma Gaurd with the arrival of Margaret's first namesake. Grandma Margaret, my mom, is taking the red-eye to JFK to save us from ourselves and this big, scary, and inconvenient city (no joke, someone was shot and killed across the street from us the day after Stella was born.....scary....even though, we feel surprisingly safe in our neighborhood...). She will be here for ten days. And by the end of those ten days, we must be ready to return to the rigors and reality of parenthood in the city.....by ourselves. Boo-hoo.

We've done it with two.....why not three? Right?

P.S.... In addition to praising our beloved mothers, this time I am 'fishing' for empathy and support. If you empathize or support our situation........give us a "holla!" , or "what-what"(hands in the air), or even a "girlfren...shoot", as they say in our neck of the hood.