For Pat

All too often we hear about the negatives regarding the Internet. The Craigslist killer comes to mind as does instances of students utilizing things like My Space to bully other students. We are warned by the experts about identity theft and computer viruses which can wreak havoc not just on our computer but on those of all the people who might email us. In the midst of all these national, and sometimes global headlines, the good stories are often overlooked. This is one such story.

About eight years ago, I joined Weight Watchers online. John and I, like most dating couples, spent our courting days wining and dining. Consequently, along with finding love, I found additional pounds creeping on my frame. Being the "take charge" gal that I am, I decided to nip this weight gain in the bud. I found a great deal of success following the Weight Watchers plan online. Although I did not attend meetings, I found the community section of the Weight Watchers online site was very supportive. It was a place where I could ask questions, vent about my frustrations, and boast about my successes (those weeks of a half pound loss). It was within the community section that I noticed a weekly thread with the same group of women posting to it. I introduced myself and was welcomed to this thread with open arms. Soon I began posting daily with a group of women from all areas of the country. We could not have been more different. We had different ideologies, geographical locations, ages, family formations, careers, and so forth. Yet, despite all the disparities, our weight loss struggles initially served as our link. It is funny to look back and think of those early days. Weight loss was our standard topic, but soon we began to open up about other things (probably since weight gain/loss does not occur in a bubble). We dubbed our thread "the porch" and, somehow in this typically anonymous cyber world, we created the homey feel of a front porch littered with rockers. Given that most of us hug our respective coastlines, I often imagined it as the front porch of a beachfront home. I could picture us rocking on its weathered boards while wrapped in shawls or afghans. Our conversation would pause momentarily as we took sips of steaming cups of tea. Sometimes conversation would bubble excitedly with words tripping over the other while at other times we would rock in companionable silence just enjoying each other's company.

As our friendship grew, we changed venues and began posting on a private message board. I see these women as my grandmothers, my aunts, my sisters and my friends. I have met only one person in the flesh. Regardless, when I learned today that one of our older porch dwellers passed away, I have mourned just as I would for a friend who lived nearby. Pat was one of those people who made you believe that growing old did not have to be a bad thing. She amazed me daily with her zest for life, even when health issues reduced her capacities. Instead of becoming bitter or giving up, Pat found ways to adapt to her new situation and keep on keeping on. She was an excellent example of graceful acceptance and resourcefulness. I loved reading posts from Pat because she had such eloquence and an eye for detail. I often felt I was in her kitchen baking bread alongside of her. I could easily imagine myself in the field of poppies she discovered while walking with her photographer husband. I could hear her cat Bit purring and demanding her treat. I loved how Pat could hone in on these bits of everyday minutia. It highlighted for me how life is truly made up of wonderful, albeit simple, pleasures if you allow yourself to be open to them. I was also impressed by Pat's community mindedness. One of the last things I recall her posting about was helping to organize a book sale for her local library. This volunteer effort is one of the many things I remember Pat talking about. It seemed like she was always experimenting with something be it memoir writing or baking brown bread. I am so thankful for knowing Pat. I often told her that she was an excellent role model. I hope that as I age I am as feisty and wise as her. In many ways, I feel like she is the embodiment of the Serenity Prayer for wisdom, courage, and knowledge were the cornerstones of who she was.

May you rest in peace dear friend.

Paging Doctor Barile

One of the cool (and terrifying) bits of being a parent is imagining your child as a grown up. For instance, sometimes as I watch Alice construct amazing train track formations, I wonder if the future engineer in her is emerging. Once in Gymboree I witnessed her during bubble popping time take a grid approach to popping the bubbles on the gymnastics mats. It made me think of archeologists searching for artifacts. Unfortunately, my imaginings are not all good. After watching the movie Madagascar Alice enjoyed dancing and singing to the song "Move It". That in itself is not too bad. The fact that she preferred to dance and sing naked caused concern (and cold sweats for me). I could only envision a pole in her future or a role in her generation's version of Jersey Shore.


And, oftentimes, my dreams for Alice's future are interrupted by laughter (usually mine). This hit home during dinner today. While I finished eating, Alice examined the butterfly garden map we received at the Bronx Zoo with a magnifying glass. She was so intent on her study she was actually silent for small periods of time (stunning, I know). While I cleaned up, I thought to myself, "Wow…maybe that trip to the Bronx Zoo might lead to a career in lepidopterology. How cool would that be?" I had just completed this mental self dialogue when I noticed Alice was now on the floor and using the magnifying glass to study the pug's ass. Alice saw me looking at her and said, "Look, Mommy. Big butt (move magnifying glass away from pug's rear). Little butt" (move magnifying glass close to pug's rear). Oh well, maybe a career in proctology is on the horizon.

Pavlov in Action

I am sad to say that throughout my life I have identified more with Pavlov's dog than with Pavlov. Each September, after I received my teaching schedule for the year, I would begin to train my body to respond to the bells of the day. For instance, after the fourth bell I could pee and have my snack. At around the eleventh bell, I could have my lunch…so on and so forth. I knew my response was bell driven as opposed to time driven because on condensed schedule days, I would not only be eating my lunch at 10 in the morning but I would also be hungry for it. Since leaving the classroom, I have relished in the lack of bells in my life. It is rather liberating to take care of bodily needs according to my body's prompting and not due to some external stimuli. Still, I have my moments wondering if Pavlov remains in control.


This has been on the forefront of my mind lately due to Angela's emergent language and obsession with cookies. One day she noticed a box of cookies on the kitchen counter. She pointed to them and said, "Good girl." I had to laugh and provide her with the desired cookie for such cuteness. Now, whenever she wants a cookie, she points to the box and says, "Cookie. Good Girl." I am ashamed to admit that it gets me every time. There is part of me that wonders if I am setting her up for a lifetime of food/behavioral issues. Additionally, there is a part of me which wonders if she has trained me exceptionally well already. Regardless, I am just going to enjoy the cuteness and let the chips fall where they may. Now if I could just overcome the need for a belly rub and to pee outside….

Channeling Beavis and Butthead

Yesterday John and I decided to take the girls to the Bronx Zoo. We had not been there since our initial dating days close to (gasp!) 10 years ago. It was a great excursion and we had a ball. The girls were entranced by all the different animals that they saw. I was surprised by how much Alice loved the butterfly garden. Upon entering the exhibit, the attendant provided us with a map picturing the different types of butterflies in the enclosure. Alice became a pro at identifying the butterflies that perched near us. Despite the lure of the 4-D Dora and Diego movie, Alice kept getting sidetracked every time a new butterfly fluttered by. Even Angela surprised me by her joy in the Congo exhibit. Who knew how enamored she would be by the gorillas? She kept pointing at them and squealing at their antics in their habitat enclosure. However, my "Beavis and Butthead" moment of the day came while we were in the Children's Zoo exhibit.


It was not until we were in the Children's Zoo that I remembered all the wandering peacocks that speckle the zoo landscape. I think in the food court they actually outnumber the pigeons, which, when you consider we are in the Bronx, is saying something. Anyhow, I had just placed Angela down from her perch in my arms when she noticed a peacock right in front of her. She was so excited to see the exotic bird so close to her. In answer to her finger point and quizzical look, I informed her that it was a peacock. Unfortunately, she zeroed in on the second syllable of the word and kept saying the word "cock" over and over. It did not help that her pointing finger was not only in line with the large bird but also in line with most folks' genitals. Needless to say, those in earshot must have been a mite confused as to why a 15 month old girl was running around, finger outstretched, saying a rather vulgar word for penis. However, if you keep up with this blog, you can understand why I was unfazed by this. I guess Alice has broken me in. I had no choice but to follow John's example and break into my best Beavis and Butthead laugh, do my best Butthead impression, and say, "She said cock."