Archive for March, 2008

it's ok to eat fish, cause they don't have any feelings (365-134)

Say hello to Mr. Meat Fish.

My daughter went through a vegetarian stage from 7th grade through 10th grade. Last year, she re-introduced herself to chicken and turkey, but she will not go anywhere near red meat.

She told me she wouldn’t be home for dinner tonight, so I decided to make chili. I try to save the red meat dishes for the nights I know she will be out. She calls me about twenty minutes ago and says she changed her plans, she’ll be home. Well, thanks for telling me at the last minute. I already planned on you NOT being here.

So she walks in the door and says, "What are we having for dinner?"
I tell her "Fish." I point to the counter where my meaty masterpiece is sitting.

She runs screaming from the room.

That’s what you get when you post a photoshopped picture of your mother looking like an alien with a skin disease on your Facebook page. Did you not learn your lesson from "friending" me last summer, Natalie?

And that’s what you get for thinking the world revolves around your schedule.

(I made her a turkey burger. And Mr. Meat became Mr. Chili.)

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how peeps are made

how peeps are made

Happy early Easter.

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for my governor

for my governor

Spidey says: SHAME ON YOU!

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portrait of a doll

portrait of a doll

This is Lucy.

Lucy was given to my son at his Christening, making her 15 years old.

For about six months, Lucy sat on a shelf in DJ’s room. One day DJ was crying a little too much and my daughter, then three, suggested we give him Lucy to comfort him. I humored her. It worked. As soon as I put Lucy in the crib, DJ stopped crying. He rubbed Lucy’s head until he fell asleep and he didn’t let go of that doll until almost four years later.

When I tell you he had this thing in his hands at all times, I’m not exaggerating. He held onto Lucy as if his lifeforce existed inside her. Where DJ went, Lucy went. And lord help us if she got lost. The panic that would rise through me when I realized Lucy was MIA – well, you would think I lost a child. When she fell out of the stroller at the mall while DJ was sleeping I went into a bigger panic than I did when Natalie was lost at the Bronx Zoo. To be fair, I knew she was running back to the llamas. Lucy, she could have been in the grubby hands of any little kid, who would take her home and just dump her in a toy box, where she would be denied the love and devotion she was so used to. Makes me cry just to think about it. Sort of.

The one time we thought we lost Lucy for real, I went out and bought another. But DJ knew. He took one look at the doll and said “NOT MY LUCY!” Thankfully, we found the real, tattered Lucy in the trunk of the car.

Lucy has been to hell and back. She’s been stitched and sewed and washed and dried. She’s been carried to Disney World and nursery school. She’s been dragged through mud and dropped in spaghetti and tossed around by mean teenage cousins. She’s been attacked by dogs and cats, and had emergency heart surgery when a Jack Russell terrier put a hole in her chest. She recovered nicely, though you can see the hole came undone again.

She was a part of our family. She sat at our dinner table and attended all our holiday festivities. She’s in our family pictures and we all still speak of her as if she wasn’t a doll, but a person. She was my son’s best friend for a while, keeping him company in the dark, giving him comfort when he was away from home, snuggling with him at night, watching Sesame Street with him during the day.

One day he came to me and said “Lucy doesn’t want to play with me anymore.” and handed the doll to me. He wasn’t sad, he was smiling. He was almost four and ready to move on with his life. We gave Lucy a bath and, for the last time, he pulled up a chair and sat in front of the dryer while Lucy tumbled around. When she was all fluffy and dry, we put on a shelf in DJ’s room. She sat there until we moved four years ago, when I boxed her up and put her in the garage.

We took her out of retirement two years ago when my nephew was born. DJ placed Lucy in Robby’s crib, hoping he would get the same use out of her. I took her down from Robby’s shelf yesterday, as his attachments run toward hockey sticks and baseball bats, and brought her into my office. I’m going to keep her on my shelf now. She’s a gentle reminder of some very sweet moments during some very rough years. And she’s also a reminder that somewhere inside my teenage son, there still lies that sweet little boy who loved his Lucy.

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