grandparentus interruptus

october must suck to be an old person.

for old people in my family, it's the month that determines who is or isn't coming for christmas.

i was in grade school my grandfather died in early october. it was my first experience with death and it scared me to watch my parents react to their grief. it scared me to be shut out from it all because i was too young to comprehend.

many years later, my soon-to-be husband's grandmother passed away on the same day as my grandfather. we were stunned to lose her only a few weeks before the wedding.

never one to be outdone, my other grandfather died a few weeks after that -- in late october -- on my wedding day.

this is the man with whom i shared a great bond and considered to be my "father". my biological father's great contribution to my life (beyond some fcuked up stories) was that of sperm donor.

two years later to the day -- my grandmother -- his wife passed away. (yup, on my anniversary... although i tell myself he came back for her.)

so when my last remaining grandparent fell down this past friday on the death day, she was scared. she thought she was next.

so she sat alone, in her little rowhouse and tidied up the place just in case. her hand, in the meantime, swelled to an ugly, purple-and-blue color and the use of it was painful.

still, she refused to call anyone for help. she was determined to not bother anyone or further shroud my anniversary -- this day -- in death. so she waited for it until the moment came.

instead of the grim reaper, she saw an x-ray technican. this grim reaper presented a different prognosis. the doctor at the hospital determined her hand was broken in several places. this signaled the end of her days of living alone, unassisted. she will be moving in with family members who can help her in her day-to-day living that proved too much for her.

it wasn't her life that was over per se, it was that her life as she knew it was over.

multiply me

a few friends have asked me recently why i chose multipicity as the title for my blog. when i was brainstorming for titles, i knew i needed a word or phrase to describe me that i wouldn't grow to hate in 12 weeks.

multiplicity captures the costume changes that this whirling dervish wears in my one-act play of my so-called life.

cruise control is not an option on this package. for any interaction, i need to be "on" or else why bother showing up? so it's easy to see how the proverbial candle wick not only gets scorched at both ends, it can cause a raging house fire when it burns.

so, until i learn to clone myself, you are all screwed.

we are all alotted 24 hours in a day. precious sleep has been netting less than 6 of them on a regular basis now. these days, anyone who comes into contact with me now prays that the personality they run into is the groomed, tactful "work" version and not the she-devil running around after midnight, furiously writing.

"Get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, bigger paycheck, the bigger house." -- Anna Quindlen

i think i have gotten better at juggling. mainly because i have the attention span of a fruit-fly. as the queen of "let's do it RIGHT NOW", if 5 minutes pass between the time the idea pops in my head and the time i get to starting it, i get fidgety.

"Man needs, for his happiness, not only the enjoyment of this or that, but hope and enterprise and change." -- Bertrand Russell

multiplicity makes sense for me. my strengths have always centered on my flexibility, creativity and ability to switch gears.

it is on the personal level that things get complicated for me. people are not that easy to put back into the inbox until you can find time to deal with them.

people don't like to think they are not a priority for you. in their minds, no matter how understanding they may be, they are a higher priority than they may be at that time. no one wants to be unimportant.

my life would be much easier to manage if we could find a way to clone me. cloning seems to be the only way my responsibilities would all be met, friends and family would feel satisfied that i have devoted enough time to them and feel included on my life.

archiving our posts?

has anyone had any luck archiving previous posts?

there's a link for old posts but it doesn't go anywhere. i know we should have a destination folder on our ftp site for them but not quite sure of the steps needed to get from here to there...

wash the dog

sunday was a glorious autumn afternoon. clear skies, crisp air. perfect football weather. perfect weather to stay inside a watch football and let the doggies have their own fun in the yard during the game.

the only non-glorious part was the heavy rains that fell earlier in the week, turning the yard into a puppy paradise for sloshing about in the mud. nothing that bathtime can't take fix...

we took sadie into the house for her first bath -- which was a breeze. she didn't want to get in the tub but after we got her in, she was fine. a little trembly, but fine. she loved the attention -- surprise, surprise. the big tough rottie loved being lathered up and massaged by her mommy.

chloe, my golden retriever, knew what the hell was happening and was freaking out in the yard. it must have been like at the death camps in WWII -- having some vague idea of what was happening, not knowing if you were next, worrying about your sister who was taken first. it was a traumatizing half-hour for chloe, now alone in the muddy, muddy yard.

when we finally brought her in, it took my brother and husband to lift her and bring her to the bathroom. she did her best impression of ghandi imitating a wet noodle.

until we actually got her into the tub, where she quickly went into rigor mortis.

do you know how hard it is to bath a dog whose limbs won't move?

i couldn't pick up her feet to wash underneath without breaking through the tub. then slowly she began her escape artist attempt. we realized this when we discovered only two legs in the actual tub -- the other two had climbed the bathroom wall and she was determined to push her way out.

all this happened while she wailed as if it is not water, but really battery acid that touched her skin... friggin' baby. it's not like the water temperature was too hot or too cold, remember i'm sloshing around in it myself!

bathing chloe is really a three-person job -- one to hold the leash to hold up the head, one to crawl around and actually wash her, and one to hold the back legs, either up (her other trick is to drop down into the fetal position) or down (from climbing the tub walls). drying her off is a little easier as she stands like with a "well, dry me off, bitch" look on her face... such a brat.

after the pre-requisite make-up cookies, she wouldn't come near me the rest of the night. she lay on her bed, licking her "wounds" while drying by the fireplace.

you may laugh at the money i spend to take her to the groomers but it's worth every freakin' penny to not have to go through that. i'll gladly pay someone else for the experience.

growing up in the 'hood

random dinner conversations with friends on saturday night sparked the idea for this post. here are some things we've learned while growing up in a not-so-pleasant section of philadelphia:

::   the cockroaches prefer walking on sidewalks as much as you do after dark.

::   even in a "good school" people still got their asses kicked at the end of the school day. chains, pipes and bricks made for good entertainment.

::   most girls learn to fight. the ones who don't, raise tittie-twisters to a whole new level.

::   most girls who learn to fight will fight a guy at least once who is not a sibling. although they may learn to fight by sparring with older brothers.

::   low-grade-but-edible cheese fries, soft pretzels with cheese and/or chocolate-iced donuts counted as a meal.

::   'haute cuisine' at our school was the not-quite-Elio's pizza on no-meat fridays.

::   the priests were checking out the boys. (my high school ranked as one of the top places for touchy-feely priests to be "relocated" to. if you count the priests in my parish -- wahoo! -- we were the number one stop on the pedophile underground railroad that the archdiocese put in place.)

::   most friends who didn't live in the area were not allowed to come into our neighborhood at night. although those same well-intentioned parents thought nothing of letting three girls find their own way back to that bad neighborhood.

::   septa -- and all of its inadequencies -- becomes a way of life.

::   everyone drinks in high school. some neighborhoods just special in 40s, not keggers.

::   only the best parties get raided by the PCLB (pennsylvania liquor control board). only the luckiest sons of bitches don't get caught (moi!)

::   in any group of friends, round-table dating was bound to occur. by graduation, you should have hooked up with each of the guys in your group at least once. and sometimes some of the girls, too.

::   everyone knew the friendly neighborhood pimp.

::   everyone knew the crazy, red-headed kid; his poor, suffering mother and his delinquent (probably-because-everyone-knew-of-the-family's-shit) brother.

::   most kids would steal the $1 or $2 from the church envelope to buy candy. only the dumb ones would leave the torn envelope in a jacket to get caught.

::   we got out of having to sit through the weekly class mass when drug dealers broke into the church to steal the gold chalice in second grade. we thought it was sooo cool that there was blood left behind on the altar by the thieves.

::   we would get woken from our sleep by the sounds of cars driving into the pharmacy's front doors and setting off the alarms that alerted everyone but the cops as to what was happening.

::   even in first grade there were girls who left their panties behind at recess in the ladies room.

::   it was not uncommon to hear of eight-grade girls taking pregnancy tests... of freshman, sophomore and junior year girls getting pregnant... or of having about-to-pop girls walk down the aisle at graduation.

::   now, at reunion's talk is less of who got married and is starting a family but more about who is a grandparent (which scarily enough, is entirely possible).

::   even within the neighborhood, there were still levels of class distinctions. (as kids, we never really knew how poor we ALL were.) "oh, you live on that side of the park, well..."

::   you never ever went into the park alone. if you had to walk 15 miles in the snow, uphill, barefoot, blindfolded and gagged, would still be easier for you that if you dared to cut through the park without all of satan's army in tow.

::   in a neighborhood of rowhomes stacked this|close to one another, everyone's parents knew each other. the unfortunate part was it killed a lot of good parties.

::   parents really do remember which way the car was facing and where they parked it last.

::   the smart ones got out at the first chance they could; the stupid ones are dead or in jail. the unfortunate ones are still there, stuck in the misery they created for themselves or just weren't strong enough, smart enough, or committed enough to release themselves from its grip.

::   the really lucky ones get to tell the tale.

thank god for anal retentive friends

once a month, four of my closest life-long friends and i get together to eat, drink, laugh, bitch and moan. we call it "girls dinner". at times it is our only chance to reconnect.

at our most recent one, the question of the history of our dinners came up. after tying in to milestones, we figured out the date of our first dinner -- january 2002.

could it be? has it really been almost 4 years of our dinners?

have we really subjected ourselves to almost 48 dinners and desserts of varying level of stomach-inducing cramps? (most likely to occur for my dinners but you already know of some of my cooking failures.)

we laughed quite heartily over our failed attempts to wow each other with foods. we remembered the stupid moments like our curdled custard cups and leaving one single solitary piece of monkey bread as a mark of sheer willpower. we were all determined to NOT be the one to eat the last piece. by dieting rules, whoever eats the last piece assumes the entire caloric devastation of the dessert.

so it sat there, tempting us all.

we remembered other feasts where stretchy, elastic waistbands were required attire. a very yummy but deadly dinner of tortellinis and tiramisu -- a gastronomical version of t'n't. we talked about crunchy lasagna (how could we not?).

we also remembered our shared history -- the torturous years of catholic schooling, the weddings, the funerals, the graduations -- all moments of our friendship captured over a hot, home-cooked meal. no matter how dyfunctional.

for a bunch of anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive, overachievers like us -- connecting and holding onto those kindred souls that complement us is the true miracle of friendship.

a little something to chew on: update

as reported by msnbc, "jane roe" the missouri inmate seeking an abortion but was repeatedly derailed by the governor and lower courts, was able to obtain the abortion last thursday in st. louis.

as a feminist absorbed with life in an urban landscape, it is quite easy to forget that in most regions of the u.s., getting access to quality women's healthcare is still an issue.

getting access to a clinic that offers abortion services is even more difficult. it seems it is only getting tougher with parental and spousal notification laws now on the books for a growing number of states and 24-hour waiting periods in effect for another. most states don't have waiting periods to buy a shotgun but they feel the need to have one to restrict medical decisions -- insane!

whatever happened to trusting a woman's ability to decide what is best for herself? or am i just dreaming that this ever occurred at all?

i don't know where i am going with this or even how i can make a difference. but every so often it helps to burst the bubble i live in that being on an email distribution list for NARAL is not enough.

"i see dead people" and other scary things

oooh, i am reaally afraid now. damn blogger with its "last updated blogs" scrolling bar!

i clicked on a link that i really shouldn't have (the title "biblical womanhood online" alone should have warned me against it).   i thought it was a joke.

hardy-fcuking-hah.

like the little boy in "the sixth sense" i see religious peeps everywhere now, all trying to erode my rights as a woman. kicking and screaming is the only way they are taking this feminazi down...

for a pulse-quickening, blood-boiling experience, check out the site here. this should not be done on an empty stomach, either.

(yes, i debated whether or not to "promote" this shit but my greatest fear is that we don't know what the religious armies are planning.)

a little something to chew on

i saw it before i opened the door. and i wanted to cry.

my weekends are usually filled with at one day of cleaning, scrubbing and picking up after 2 big furkids and 1 human who really should know better. so as i walked in the door to find a week's worth of newspapers bound for the recycle bin shredded by one of the furkid's, well, you can sense my desperation.

she just needed a little something to chew on.

it's not her fault. chloe has some vendetta gets the printed word. it doesn't matter if it's the newspaper, a magazine, even ayn rand's "the fountainhead" --   she ain't having none of it in her house. like the religious right going after hustler, there's no stopping that bonfire once it's been started.

here's something else to chew on:

in reading today's inquirer on the train this morning, i came across an article that the supreme court of missouri will not halt an inmate's access to the abortion she is seeking. the governor and lower courts have tried to limit her access to one and have used the old rabble-rousing statement "the taxpayers shouldn't have to pay for it" to ignite the pro-life torches.

here's where their argument goes array: the inmate is paying for the abortion herself. the only fees to be billed to taxpayers is for transportation costs to and from the prison to the clinic and her security escorts... expected to total $350 for the roundtrip.

the 'taxpayers dollars and cents' argument can't cut it this time.

i'm not sure what healthcare system they have in missouri, but i'm going to go out on a limb and assume that the healthcare costs for a full-term pregnancy is going to be a hell of a lot more than that. the court costs alone to bring this to trial (the inmate sued the state after her earlier attempts to get an abortion were rejected) far outweigh these expenses.

the tired 'taxpayer' excuse can be used to justify any spending initiative that you don't personally agree with. deal with it.

it is no secret now that missouri has strict abortion laws and the republican governor has stated in action more so than in words, that he "ain't having none of it in his house either". his unwitted victim whose life he is trying to shred is an inmate. one who by her fate is determined not by her incarceration but strictly on the political wrangling of some men (there, I said it. happy, now?) who want to impose their viewpoints on someone else's life.

grrr.

although the state supreme court has overturned other stays by lesser courts, "jane roe" is fighting a timely battle. missouri state laws prohibit abortions after 22 weeks -- at around 16 weeks -- jane only has a few more weeks before the governor and the pro-lifers win. care to take a guess as to who is driving the van, folks?

thankfully, the ACLU is working on her case. and thankfully, the state supreme court's decided today to uphold the woman's right to privacy and privilege to end a pregnancy.

my desperation is at the slow attempts to decimate women's rights today. hard-fought rights can be swept away with political posturing, pervasive attacks on the "activist judges" who uphold the laws and those who know what's best for you (without even knowing you first).

it's a wake-up call, folks. i can see the desperation all around and i want to cry. the wolves are at the door, looking for a little something to chew on.

when old people go bad

old people are a strange breed.

my fiesty old grandmother must be their leader.

this morning, i attended a family funeral and had a chance to once again get a taste of my grandmother's unique personality. the ol' bat managed to slip in 2 back-handed comments in less than 30 minutes - a new record.

first, she came up to where my cousin and i were standing. she had spoken earlier with another relative who had remarked to her on how beautiful her granddaughter is. the problem was she meant me and not my cousin, who in being a normal teen is sensitive about her looks. when i tried to deflect her comment by remarking that she must have meant to say granddaughters, she just stopped. "no dear, she didn't mean trisha. she said you're the beautiful one."

ouch.

next, she walks up to my big brother. my brother is, shall we say, big-boned? so after her first assault on us, she goes up to my brother pats his belly and tells him he needs a corset to hold his big belly in.

double ouch.

my brother managed to get the last laugh. he quickly responded by asking her what had happened to her eyebrows. see, she is one of the generation of women who pluck their eyebrows until they are bald. and then because they have no eyebrows, they draw them back in.

well, today, she had her "face" on - full makeup on her lips, face and eyes. cupie doll bright pink bow lips and bright red eyebrows. she swears it was brown.

it wasn't until we dropped her off at home did we discover real beauty secret. she used lip liner on her eyebrows. my aunt is still angry that we failed to get a picture of her with one of our camera phones.

deep thoughts (on missing class tomorrow)

my own deeply ingrained sense of guilt (damn those nun!) is making me feel bad for missing class on thursday. it's not like i have a choice in whether or not to attend the wedding rehearsal -- i'm part of the wedding.

don't get me wrong, i am looking forward to sitting around with our friends and dishing about the state of world affairs (and other tasty gossip).

no, this has more of a playing hooky type of feel to it. so I'm trying not to dodge my responsibilities i.e., all the freakin' reading, posting and finishing up project 1. my fear is that if i don't they'll gang up on me next week and i'll have a panic attack.

thoughts on chapter 6
it's common sense, no? making links usable, using headers and subheaders to break out the infamous wall of words we've all run up against?

but the kicker for me was the section on only using bold to make text pop out. any graphic designer can tell you a 1,000 stories of people asking:

why can't you make it red? or underline it, too? i really want to make this stand out. if you only make it dance and add a subliminally naked chick behind the headline for a kid's swimming class, i'm sure the dads will look at it...

my point is, i'm gonna freakin' print out that section and laminate that sucker to hand out with business cards. oh hello, yes, you are an idiot. here's my card -- on the back is written proof that you are....indeed... an idiot. cheers!

uploading project 1
not sure if it's because it's wayyy after midnight or what, but i can't log onto the ftp site. when i type in url listed on the notes and swap in my username, i get an error code.

did anyone else run into this problem? or am i having a blonde moment? elizabeth can you email me offline with what could be causing this? the exact error is a "530 Login Incorrect."

Other than that, have a good class folks and i'll see you next week.

new marketing campaign

25 things

in my mind this was going to be longer but it's late and i'm tired. plus i usually avoid adding more negativity to the world for fear of karmic bitchslap but somethings are better addressed using the outside voice:

25 things that piss me off:
25. waking up early
24. bad coffee
23. waking up early to bad coffee with a hangover
22. finding a dead battery on my iPod at the gym
21. my soon-to-be ex-cell phone carrier
20. needy people
19. arrogant people
18. people who think that cubicle walls are soundproof
17. bad kissers (this one's goes out to my sister, lis!)
16. the downward spiral to the big 3-0
15. books with great cover designs that don't grab you in the first 5 pages
14. bad home design shows (i have a degree in painting and it's NOT that easy)
13. SEPTA (it's slippery rail season folks, pls. don't schedule any 9 am meetings, i won't be there)
12. needy family members
11. corporate bureaucracy when it's not in my favor
10. people that don't respect the puppies
9. rainy days in the fall (where's all the great fall foliage? oh, that's right under SEPTA's wheels...)
8. country music (and i like dogs)
7. stupid people who buy dogs and then dispose of them as if they were sweater aunt suzie gave you with the reindeers on it last christmas (unfortunately the sweater really does need to be taken back, no?)
6. genetics for requiring me spend so much time scrutinizing and analyzing my body issues
5. george bush (abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxy and z. pick your past, present and future generations of oil men)
4. holy-roller-god-fearin' people who feel the need to save over the world by saving us from ourselves. thank yaaaa, jeeee-sus (and allah. buddha never hurt anyone.)
3. people who fear hurt animals, little people or older people (being forced to talk to those holy rollers leads me to believe there is a special level of hell reserved for them.)
2. feeling like i have no time for anything of importance in my life these days
1. picking up the messes others leave behind... muddy pawprints, destroyed databases, silk ties found left in the refrigerator crisper bin.

there you have it folks, a step-by-step guide to staying on my good side.

why does it always rain on me?

does anyone remember this great song from a few years back? i'm pretty sure it's pre-"coldplay" (maybe around the time david gray hit the scene before he became the darling of 'xpn).

okay, the reason for this segue is this weather is sapping my energy. like cryptonite to superman, i feel like making a nice warm nest for myself and not moving my ass 'til spring. it's depressing to leave the house in the dark and return home without ever seeing the sun.

now i know eventually this stormfront will remove itself from hanging over our heads, but until then, my mojo is gone. motivation to move is extremely draining. i want to hibernate like a bear.

maybe all's i need is two tickets to paradise or tahiti or someplace warm like that. but then again, the bear would need to shave her legs...

o fiona!

after nearly a 6-year period between albums, fiona apple has released her much- awaited third album, "extraodinary machine".

with her smoky, soulful vocals and introspective lyrics, fiona has seen me through some rough patches in my life. her passion flows as she bangs the piano keys flows through me. like a modern-day nina simone, fiona not only sings my story, she feels me.

her first album nursed me back to health after surgery to stop the war my body raged on itself. every hurt, every small step made that summer came with her flowing through my tortured veins.

her second album gave me strength to get through my planning my wedding. her lyrics gave me a voice when mine failed in after the death of my grandfather.

now with the release of her third album, i'm wondering what road we're preparing to travel down together. what lessons i need to draw from her lyrics. somehow i know that whether life"...is kind to mean or treats me mean, I'll make the most it, I'm an extraordinary machine."

how to add an image to your post

i have noticed 2 things while perusing my fellow classmates' blogs:

1. everyone is mostly commenting on the assignments (inside voice says * borrring*. outside voice says *why the hell aren't you doing that?*)
2. people are asking how to add an image to a post.

the last request i can handle. with only 1 week to go until my blackberry is activated and my new business cards are legit, i've been a documenting FOOL. so it's only fitting after 35 hrs this week writing procedures that i do it on the weekend, too...

how to add an image to your post

1. on the formatting toolbar, click the third button from right (*hint* it looks like a photo)


2. a new window will open. you can choose to use one of your own images or one that's currently in use on an existing web page.
   


3. if you choose to add an image from your own computer, click browse and navigate to the folder where the image is stored. select the file name and hit open. to add more images, click the link to add another image and repeat step 3. when finished, proceed to step 6.


4. if you choose to add an image from the web, you must first know the location (URL) of that image. to find the url, go to the web page where the image is stored and right-click (mac users are flying solo on this one) on the image. copy the contents named "location" and begin "http://...". this is the image's url.
   


5. go back to blogger's pop-up window, paste the info into the box named URL. to add more images, click the link to add another image and repeat steps 4 and 5. when finished, proceed to step 6.


6. choose the layout of where the picture's alignment and size. click the corresponding radio buttons for each.
   


7. click the upload image button.


8. viola! presto! c'est magnifique!
   

you've got art.