Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Where We Live

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Another day.

Another dollar.

Another casualty.

Though it comes as no surprise, the list of innocent victims whose lives are claimed by gun-related incidents continues to grow exponentially.

That's right: Gun-related incidents.

What I want to know is exactly how many lives have to be lost over gun-related incidents?

Now, I'm not blind to the fact that those who support the right to bear arms would assuredly argue that it is the perpetrators of the shootings that carry out the deeds, and not the guns themselves.

Point taken.

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday.

Many of us are as excited about it for the ads as we are for the game itself. In fact, in some houses, you might find the bathrooms being flushed more during football action than during the commercials.

The cost of one 30-second ad for the Super Bowl tomorrow is an average of $4 million. So you know the advertisers are going to try to produce something memorable.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

By the time you sit down to enjoy your first cup of coffee this morning, I will have polished off at least a half a pot, made two bowls of farina one purple topped with green and yellow sparkling sugar, and looking a bit like an early Mardi Gras celebration; and one blue, because my granddaughter will insist that boys can only have blue farina, and therefore that is what her brother must have.

However, it will have pink sprinkles because my 4-year-old grandson always wants pink and I am a gender-neutral Nonna.

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Most of us are quite busy.I don't recall when I was a child having all the activities that today's child has available to them. I was talking with a co-worker recently who informed me that he was unable to place his daughter in another after school activity and when I asked why, he told me that she was already active in her church, swimming, dance, ballet and several other ventures.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

It's 5 a.m. on a Friday morning, and I'm yanked from a sweet dream by the shrill ring of the old-fashioned windup alarm clock. The cats scatter as I fling off the covers; eight paws and two human feet hit the floor at about the same time.

It's about 12 degrees outside, and I see snow on the porch roof through the ice-coated panes of the wavy glass windows in our old farmhouse.

Trailed by the Fabulous Fur Folk, I shamble down the hall and into the bathroom to turn on the shower. The cats stretch out on the deep red area rug, awaiting chin scratching and morning praise.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

I have a little mental game I play when I'm doing a certain unpleasant physical task, which is shoveling dense, partially frozen snow and ice chunks from the bottom of the driveway. I pretend that I'm opening it up so that the Prize Patrol can make it up to the house.

I wouldn't be caught in an egg-splattered robe and hair curlers like some of the previous winners. No, the driveway would be cleared and I'd be dressed and ready to pose with my new-millionaire giant check.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Last week marked the 20th anniversary of my Pop Pop's death.

It was strange because when he died, I was 9, but yet I can still remember every detail of the day we found out he went home to God.

My Pop Pop, John E. Zubek, was an amazing man to me.

He was short in stature, but had a big heart.

He was my buddy, and one who I wished I had more time with before I had to say my final farewell.

Growing up, we were close. He would take me for walks down Abbott Street in Lansford, where I would stop numerous times to play with a number of neighboring dogs.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

One day when I was a kid I was riding my bike in the neighborhood. I tried to fit between two cars and the end of one of my handlebars gouged one, a new black station wagon. I saw it, gulped, and left. I didn't say anything about it to anyone. But, the owner of the car had seen me do it.

He called my parents, and I was summoned to the kitchen table. My father was upset about the damage, but I think he was more upset about my deception. I was clutched by an upper arm and marched across the street, where I was made to apologize. I was grounded.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Receiving Christmas cards and letters is one of the most favorite parts of the holiday season in our family.

I look forward to checking our mail every day to see if any cards arrived. I will open them right away, read and place them in our card basket near the tree. On Christmas Eve after all the hustle and bustle of our family dinner is finished and everyone is gone and the house is quiet with just my husband and I, I get a glass of wine, sit down to relax and reread all our cards and Christmas letters. It is my time to reflect on family and friends near and far.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

The Irish have long been known for their love of the macabre and humor, even in death. The following was given to me by a friend who found it on the internet and the work of the IrishCentral publication.

The following is taken from gravestones in Ireland. These are not made up, only the Irish could find humor in death.

From Northern Island: "Erected to the memory of John Phillips, accidentally shot as a mark of affection by his brother"