My Mom, The Style Icon

My mom was recently published in Piper Weiss' blog, My Mom the Style Icon and now Piper has landed a book deal with Chronicle Books due out in 2011. The exciting news is that Piper has contacted me to use my mom's photos and story to be published in her anthology. Now, if only I can come up with the perfect descriptions to these pictures, come up with the right words to describe the kind of woman she was and more importantly the amazing mother that she will always be for me.

I just got my hair blown out in preparation for the six birthdays that we are celebrating this weekend and the mafioso looking hairdresser, says to me, "I bet you your mom has beautiful, thick hair like yours" and for the first time in my life I've walked out of a hair salon in near tears. My mom had amazing hair that changed with seasons and wardrobes and has been worn in every style imaginable - long, short and medium; curly, wavy and stick straight; in a braid, down and in an up-do - all before chemo had it's nasty effects on her hair amongst, other things. She was beautiful inside and out and to quote my dad yesterday, "Бедненькая, как она на мучалась." My mom will forever be remembered as a woman of incredible courage, undying wisdom, amazing taste and infinite strength. She's so much more than a style icon, she's an icon.

Komen for the Cure -

We now have a sponsor me page on Facebook and a personal fundraising page on Komen. Please support us with your generosity, your time and your kindness.

Komen for the Cure - In Loving Memory of Leonora

UNCULTU(RED) and UNISPI(RED)

On Friday hubs and I went to see Red on Broadway with Alfred Molina. I've been a huge fan of Molina ever since seeing him in Fiddler on the Roof a few years back with my mom. Red, didn't disappoint. It is a remarkable play by John Logan that highlights the life and work of famous American artist, Mark Rothko. The dialogue was splendid and I want to attempt to find the screenplay to read. There was much banter in the dialogue referencing other art works, artists, poems, writers, musicians, etc. The names all famous, Monet, Manet, Nietzche, Vivaldi Rembrandt, etc., yet it saddens me to think how little our generation knows.

We know how to work the iPhone, the PC, the remote control, GameBoy and PS3, but we don't know the literary classics, the artistic masterpieces or the classical tunes that have been around for generations. Our parents' generation knows it all, read it all, heard it all and seen it all (if only in books and magazines). Their social gatherings are so much more fun then ours. Someone always play(s) [an instrument], everyone sings, anecdotes referencing historical events, figures, etc are told and it's so much more than our regular debauchery of stuffing our faces and drinking.

We are living in the information age and yet most of us are very uninformed. Yes, we have the news, sports and weather at our fingertips. Yes, we can google anyone, get directions anywhere, download any iTune and still know nothing. Reading has become almost taboo. Few people I know of my generation actually play an instrument (as a hobby) and even fewer know the difference between Bach and Mozart (myself included). There are a gazillion books that I want to read and often have the likes of "Time Traveler's Wife," "Russian Debutante's Handbook"(current reading), "The Lost Symbol" thrust in my face. Yes, they are fun to read and pass the time on the evening commute home, but they can't be compared with the likes of World Class Literature.

We are a product of our times and our parents and grandparents are/were a product of theirs, but there's so much more that we can learn from them, from history and from the classics. We can all become a little more cultured, a little more inspired and a little more appreciative of things that came before us, that gained worldwide recognition and have surpassed the test of time much more so than their contemporaries who die out after one song, one book or one picture.

milestones

The first year of life is usually that of many milestones. As our friends are having kids and we'll be attending five 1st birthdays in the next month, we've witnessed firsthand the milestones in the first year of life - sitting, eating, standing, first teeth, first steps. In the first year of death, however, there are also many milestones that you have to overcome. It's your first birthday without your loved one, your first new year, your first year "celebrating" that person's birthday without them. Eventually, it'll be the birth of your first child without them. It's about remembering and yet about moving on, somehow. Today, would have been my parent's 27th wedding anniversary. Next month is my mom's birthday. Each day is one more day that she's not here, that I miss her and that I have to learn to live with only her memories.

March 5, 1983
(unfortunately, 4 people in this photograph are no longer with us)

Brick by Brick

So back to the SHS, the new space in SoHo is the new home of this "young" and trendy synagogue. A seven year lease has been signed and the first year rent has been completely covered by generous donations from (mostly young) philanthropists and the designs are in place by a famous designer/architect whose work is on display at the Guggenheim. While I missed some of the pertinent details (stay tuned), from my understanding, the SHS will be writing it's own copy of the Torah. They've split it up into sections, where each section will be written with the help of young patrons and a $1,000 donation, followed by a "Stroll for the Synagogue," since Jews aren't exactly known for their athleticism. Having been able to raise over $1,500 for Race for the Cure in a matter of a few short weeks this summer, I have no doubt that with your help, we can raise $1,000+ for the SHS. I think it is important for Russian Jews to get involved in this project and help expand the synagogue, the Jewish community and to meet and mingle with other smart and successful people. While the "Brighton Shore" has been getting quiet a lot of publicity, I don't think it's the kind of publicity that most young Russian Jewish professionals that have been educated in this country, entered the workforce by landing great jobs in various fields, started their own businesses and succeeded in this country would like to get. Every race, religion, nationality comes with a stigma, and it is in our power to change it - to prove "them" wrong and to think outside our comfort box.

To me, it's been amazing for a long time that having been in this country since age 9, I don't have many American friends. I grew up here. I speak English (with a Brooklyn accent as opposed to a Russian one). I graduated college, completed my Master's, worked in a global firm and yet all of my closest friends share the same background. At the SHS Purim event this Saturday, we met an amazingly great, soon to be married couple, L and A. She's from Long Island and A is from
Kansas. Hubster and I were both surprised that there are Jews in Kansas. The fact that they are from Middle of Nowhere Kansas or middle LI has nothing to do with anything except out surprise and our instant liking to each other. Despite the fact that we may have scared them a little when we drove them home to their Lower East Side apartment with a shovel in the backseat, I can't wait to reconnect with them at another SHS event.

What's cool about the SHS is that beliefs and traditions aren't forced on you. As a woman, you can wear pants and as a man show up without a yarmulke and you are not made to feel as an outsider. On the contrary, you feel welcomed and glad to be surrounded by people who are equally proud, but for better or worse, have joined the modern and not Orthodox world. I want to think outside the box, brick by brick, please join me.

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The SoHo Synagogue

I've been on the SHS mailing list for some time, but Saturday's Purim event was the first that hubby and I were able to attend. The SHS is a synagogue is unlike any synagogue you've ever been to. For starters, it's across the street from the rear of Bloomies SoHo (a very fitting location). It is also in the former Gucci Store space, which is a bit ironic given Gucci's signature "Christmas" stripes. We weren't sure what to expect, but we were really glad that we came. We met some really interesting people and the cause is definitely more than noble.

Being former refugees from the former Soviet Union, we were always very aware of being Jewish, but never allowed to practice there. Growing up in non-religious families with our grandparents speaking Yiddish, making gefilte fish and teaching us the importance of picking a Jewish spouse. The diaspora was/is a crazy phenomenon and threw Jews all over the world. We ended up here, half of our families ended up in Israel, Canada, some stayed behind. What I liked the most about the SoHo Synagogue was that you understand where people come from and that most of us aren't religious, but are very proud of our heritage and would love to get involved.

I want to get involved. The events of 2009 have inspired a charitable spirit within me. As Hillel is famously quoted, "If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, who am I? If not now, when?" SHS throws a lot of fancy parties in top-notch places, but it also teaches you traditions that we have long forgotten or maybe never learned. How great is it to spend a Pesach Sedar amidst 20 and 30 somethings that are smart, successful, talented and dressed to the T. (I'm not sure what that means).

Religion is a sensitive topic and I could go on for hours, but I've been trying (with many interruptions, stupid work) to finish this post all day and it doesn't look like I'm anywhere near done. I will definitely attend more events and support what I believe is a wonderful cause. So, my proposal of the day, is support something, help someone. You don't have to help my cause(s) (although I'd greatly appreciate past, current and future donations), but join a cause, spread the word, it's not about money, it's about time.

Forever in My Heart

Sometimes I wish I wasn't so sentimental. I wish I didn't remember every birthday, anniversary. Sometimes, it's good to remember. Sometimes, you wish you could forget.

Today, despite the pain, I'm glad I remember, and I know that I will never forget. There's nothing more that I could say today except that I miss my dearest mom and grandma more than any words could ever express. It's an interesting coincidence that 6 months after my mom is gone would have been my grandma's 86th birthday.

LI 04/19/51-08/18/09
ZI 02/18/24-07/08/08

"Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose." -The Wonder Years











"I pray you can see me now and be proud of what I have become because of your example, but most of all I thank you because you loved me so much."

Saturday Morning Commute

Q train to DeKalb, R to Canal because it doesn't make it's usual stops and is running over the Manhattan Bridge (and they don't tell you this on Atlantic), long walk to downtown 6 from last car to front of platform, downtown 6 isn't running, longest crossover to uptown 6 over and down multiple flights of stairs (all in four inch heels), 14th street to Wall Street wait time for downtown 4 - 15 min, destination WORK. Caffeine intake zero, frustration at all time high, directions
to tourists 3, hours of sleep 5.5! MTA FAIL!!!

Total travel time 2 hrs, immeasurable nerves complete with lack of desire to work on a Saturday to begin with.

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Сильная Женщина

Speaking of music, strength and all other wonderful things, made me think of this song,



I wrote this, or rather embedded this and remembered how I used to be teased as a kid and used to come home in tears because someone called me Alla Pugacheva. The other day my friend who was recently at a Lady Gaga concert told me that Lady Gaga reminded her of me - creative and had a way with people. I think it was a very big compliment. But I am me.

. . . tired of being strong, крикни а в ответ тишина . . .

The Sound of Music

Music as sacrifice – I don’t think that’s a very novel idea. Yet, it’s something I haven’t thought a lot about in the past. By Jewish tradition, you’re not supposed to dance or listen to music while you’re in mourning. As I type this, a line from an old comedy routine at the Comedy Cellar just seems fitting, “I too am a Jew, but I’m not as Jew as you.” That aside, music was never a huge part of my life, or so I thought. I’m tone deaf. I have two left feet. Our wedding dance was a disaster, which thankfully was edited pretty well. Since August 18, I haven’t (intentionally) listened to music, but I don’t live in a box and every time you walk into a store or see a movie or go to a party, you hear music. Sometimes you can’t help but tap your foot to the beat, but now I’m very conscious of it. This awareness is very strange, especially at a party when you have to explain yourself, since people don’t know, don’t understand or simply don’t care. We have at least two weddings to attend early this summer of very close friends. I won’t be dancing and I am not sure what will feel more strange – not dancing, or dancing.

I don’t have a favorite artist, or even a favorite song really. I always listened to whatever was playing on the radio, popular at the time or that my friends made me listen to. I always liked songs with meaning. Whether it was an old Alla Pugacheva song or a Nautilus Pompilius ballad, or some pop trash that had relatable appeal, I always paid more attention to the lyrics than to the music. While we were packing and moving “Painted Black” was whirling in my head and while writing my last post, all I could think about was “Proschay Lumibiy Gorod.” Maybe music is a bigger part of my life than I thought. There’s different music – happy music and sad music. Music is a means of artistic expression and usually the best art comes out of bad emotion. When you’re happy, you find better things to do with your time then compose, draw, write.

Back to work.

21 Grams

How many lives do we live? How many times do we die? They say we all lose 21 grams... at the exact moment of our death. Everyone. And how much fits into 21 grams? How much is lost? When do we lose 21 grams? How much goes with them? How much is gained? How much is gained? Twenty-one grams. The weight of a stack of five nickels. The weight of a hummingbird. A chocolate bar. How much did 21 grams weigh?

-Paul Rivers, 21 Grams

Шереметьево - JFK: 17 years ago, today.

As hard as it was, life was simpler then - for me anyway, I was 9. I was a kid full of hopes, dreams and a promise of a bright future. I remember a lot of things about our voyage because I've always been very impressionable and even more sentimental. I remember waking up on a cot completely surrounded by suitcases and huge bags (баулы). There was a lot of scurrying since everyone was already up. It was about 4 am. All of a sudden there were a lot of people taking bags and bringing them out of our 3rd floor apartment - the only home I've known until that point and the only place I've really ever felt at home (now that I think about it). There were even more people in our yard all waiting their turn to say their goodbyes. I remember leaving and a strange guy ripping out our beautiful hardwood floor which my mom managed to sell for a few dollars.

We got to the train terminal (what's it called in English? station?) (The same one that they shot in Everything is Illuminated, yes that's L'vov) and we boarded the train. I remember being in the suite (is that how you say it?) with mama and grandma and the three of us hysterically crying and my dad running in with a grin and yelling at us for crying. As the train moved, the crowd of familiar and strange faces just burst into "proschay lubimiy gorod," a song which has made me cry since the day I realized we'd be leaving my beloved L'vov.

We got to Moscow and there things got blurry. I remember being afraid of wearing my gold earrings since they may rip them off with my ear and later (after passing security) telling my mom I could've put "all the gold" in my pockets since they didn't check me. The "gold" is probably worth $500, if that. I remember them searching us like we were trying to smuggle worldly possessions out of what was no longer the USSR. A bag with coins (specifically collected for calls) somehow fell into one of our huge bags and they had to completely unpack it (read: dishevel it). A suitcase which was specifically sent by my sister from the US to meet the size requirements, didn't and we were fined $100. That $100 is probably the equivalent of $10,000 or maybe even $100,000 for us today. Unlike many people, we didn't sell our apartment, because there was yet no privatization in L'vov. On the contrary, we had to pay them to leave two beautiful apartments, one at the city center and ours with complete capital improvements (and now, without parquet floors). We didn't have gold or money - we came with sheets and towels and pots and pans that can probably last us another 17 years.

Somehow, we finally passed security and boarded the chartered plane heading to NY. Because of my grandmother's heart condition, the plane was full of old and sick people. During the flight, when my dad (who hasn't been on a plane since that journey) took me to walk around a bit, I saw things that have stayed so imprinted on my young mind that to this day they give me chills. There were beds suspended from the ceiling. And religious men in black hats (not a common sight in Ukraine) were praying. There were all kinds of crippled people. It was scary.

We landed. It was a sunny and beautiful New York morning. It was about 50-60 degrees (yesterday's weather but with sun instead of rain) and I remember thinking to myself, it must always be warm here. It seemed wondrous and wonderful. I was ecstatic to see my sister and couldn't stop hugging her! She looked great in her purplish/pink shirt with a black zipper and curly (then still dark) hair. I think she had flowers, or maybe balloons and my dad yelled at her for spending money. As Dyadya Monya drove us to Bensonhurst (we stayed with my uncle and grandma for 3 weeks) the ride on the Belt with the sun beaming and the water glistening seemed surreal, warm and wonderful. I've never since enjoyed that road like that again, having made the trip probably 1,000+ times. I had on rose-colored glasses of both childhood and innocence as well as the expectation of a better life for my family.

I'm glad we're here, but I don't know that it's a better life. I think I've blogged about it before, immigration was extremely difficult on our family. Hardship after hardship followed. Yes, good things happened too, but it's hard to concentrate on that, especially now. Шереметьево - JFK: 17 years ago today, the day my childhood ended. Now, starting the 18th without mama, 7 without grandma Mira and the 2nd without Zilpa. How I wish I could be on the Belt in my rose-colored glasses.

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Blueberries, Raspberries and Blackberries...

So you get it, I like berries. I especially love my BlackBerry. It's a phone, a camera and a browser. It allows me to always stay connected (which is not always a good thing). For more specs on the BB, go to their website. Blackberries tend to malfunction - sometimes the trackball doesn't scroll, sometimes they delete your data, sometimes they freeze. In a conversation with E today, my BB froze. Having been a BB user for some time, I know that the best way is to take out the battery, blow and reboot. It worked like a charm. Sometimes it doesn't. In those cases, you call your service provider and have them send you a replacement. Within 2-3 business days you have a shiny new (or refurbished) model to sms, bbm, fb, email and talk on.

Well, all of this got me thinking of how nice it would be if people were like berries, provided that you're a loyal customer. If a person is misbehaving or freezing up on you, just take the battery out and restart. The valuable data that you share with that person is backed up on your pc and in the case of a crash, easily recoverable. In the chance that you didn't have it backed up, well that you'll just have to live with. In the instance of broken trackballs, they can easily be replaced in your local store. In the event that you and this person are constantly fighting, they are shutting you out and forgetting important events in your life, first upgrade the software, then reinstall the OS and if all else fails, call your service provider for a replacement. Every 2 years (or sooner if you're willing to spend the cash) you're eligible for an upgrade for a better
looking, faster and smarter phone errr person.

--
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Looking for inspiration . . .

People have been complaining and I've been uninspired. Today is my grandpa's 89th birthday. During the last year he lost a child, had a heart attack and ended up in the hospital for the first time. Prior to the events of the last few months, I always wished that all of grandpa's offspring (3 children and 6 grandchildren) have my grandfather's genes and my mother's will to live. I still wish that for all of us. I'm the only one here. My aunt and uncle and their children are all in Israel with my grandfather and I'm here, now, alone. I'm not really alone. I have my daddy and hubby and sis and nephews and uncle and wonderful friends, but the emptiness is unavoidable and there are not enough words to fill this blog with.

My aunt just got back to Israel after spending the last week in Vegas for most of which I joined. Vegas was fun, expensive, filled with more than one adventure like getting conned out of $300 and proved yet again that I have no luck when it comes to cards.

Vegas, much like everything else, keeps changing (pix to follow). The things that don't change is your family, for better or worse, they are there to stay. I just wish some of them were at least a little bit closer to help me feel a little less alone. . .

ALL you need is LOVE . . . not the BB commercial, but the Beatles song . . .

In the meantime (while I'm looking for inspiration), help a great cause or two by simply clicking to help raise $1M for research from Chase . . . I love their new slogan, "Chase what matters":

A New Year, A New Decade, Same Ol' Me . . .

I started this blog post weeks ago, but just haven't had the energy, strength, time or inspiration to finish it . . .

So, I've gotten more than one complaint for not updating my blog the past few weeks. Despite the constant thoughts and ideas whirling around in my head, there just hasn't been anything exciting worth sharing . . .

In Russian there's a saying, "Как отметиш новый год так его и проведёш" (how you celebrate New Years, is how you'll spend the entire year) and this year was fairly quiet and surrounded by kids. I can finally deal with quiet. For many of my friends, I've been known as "having a propeller," "cup of coffee" and "always out and about." Well the propeller isn't working with quiet the same speed and while I still enjoy good coffee and more importantly, good company, I'm also content watching a good movie under the covers with a glass of wine. Yes, wine, "Wine a little, you'll feel better," and usually I do.

My Mom, The Style Icon: Cruise control

My Mom, The Style Icon: Cruise control

As promised, my mom was featured on the website and the pictures that Piper chose were some of my favorites from the cruise. . .

Posted using ShareThis

For Deda . . .

Click here to view this photo book larger

Happy Holidays!

Wishing you and your family

May health, happiness and good times

greet you each day of the new year!

My Mom, the Style Icon

My friend, D turned me to an interesting blog by having her mom's photo published in it, My Mom, the Style Icon. The blog publishes photos of uber chick moms and of course as soon as I heard about it, there was no doubt that my mom's picture is getting submited. It took a while for me to scan the photos per Piper's (the editor's) request and chances are all of them won't make it to her blog, but I decided to pot them on mine since my mom was the prime example of chick and trendy. By this this collage alone, you can see that my mom didn't wear her hair the same way twice. (She was blessed with thick, lush locks for most of her life, or rather before chemo). As a student at the University of Culture in St. Petersburg, (right), she was the trendiest of her friends. (Far Left) is her at work in heels (and of course) with a manicure climbing at work. Even when I was born, my mom was the epitome of class and style (and you can't see that my carriage was blue on the black and white photograph because there was a deficit of carriages in USSR when I was born). If you didn't grow up in the former USSR, you will never understand what it's like to stand in line for hours for a loaf of bread or to get a cake from "under the counter" in a vegetable store, to see empty shelves in a supermarket or to find gloves and have a coat made to match. But, it was fun and with taste, even with limited resources, people stayed stylish. Imagination was key, without Ricky's on every other corner my mom dressed up as a Geisha for a costume party at work and I think she was a lot more believable than in my "trendy" Geisha costume last Halloween. (Bottom right) is the picture of my mom in a dress that my grandmother sewed for her. My mom, the style icon - the epitome of class and elegance not only by what she wore, but also by what she said and the kind of person that she was and for me, will always be.

(will post updates and link to the blog once it makes it there.)

One Third

"I tell you everything that is really nothing, and nothing of what is everything, do not be fooled by what I am saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I am not saying." -Charles C. Finn

Because really, what's there to say?

Strength

The ideas for this post have been whirling around in my brain for a few days now, but the words didn't seem to come out and the time has been somewhat scarce. Here I am on a 9 p.m. train heading back from a 1st holiday party at a new job and the thought won't let me go - so I will try to jot it down as coherently as is possible before it escapes. Hopefully, it'll make some sense...

I come from a family of strong women. Both of my grandmothers were extremely brave, strong and loving. Then there's my mom and there's not enough words in any language I know to describe her courage. My aunt is another prime example. This is not to say that the men in my family are weak, but quiet the contrary. It takes a very strong man to be with a strong woman. In my house, my parents always had equal voices. Maybe my mom knew more about this and my dad knew more about that, but every decision was made together. Yes, there were arguments. Those happen quiet often between two strong people, but as I got older I realized that it only reinforces the love and respect you have for your partner. If you never fight, one person in the relationship is a weaker, more agreeable one. That doesn't make him bad, but it's just impossible to agree on everything.

None of the aforementioned women, have had an easy life. Both my grandmothers lived through WWII, one by working in a factory, the other in an Uzbek family. They lost a father, a brother, a train full of classmates and many other friends and relatives like so many jews during the war. Luckily, they didn't lose their lives. My maternal grandmother raised my mom on her own by working (often two jobs) to make ends meet. My paternal grandmother lost her husband and the love of her life fairly young. She continued to raise her family and be the ultimate matriarch to two sons, five granddaughters and four great-grand-kids. We all immigrated and the struggles continued for them and began for me.

I hear from both friends and acquaintances, "you're so strong." I am not. Strength doesn't come from choice. I don't want to get any stronger, but somehow these walls keep building and the terror is felt only from within. You cannot explain the pain or the hurt or the rumbles that you feel inside. You go on pretending to be uninflicted, smiling even, laughing sometimes. You work, you eat, you sleep, you celebrate birthdays and holidays, you spend time with friends. Each day you die a little more. Each day there's a needless argument, there's an urgent return to be done, a phone call that must be made and someone you love is in the hospital, yet again. Where do you find the strength? Unfortunately, I don't have women to ask anymore (besides my dearest aunt, who's always had more on her plate than she knew what to do with) and as for the men, they are men. They don't talk about feelings. They shy away from doctors. They love with their actions. Their physical strength is only a fraction of the inner strength it takes to fight a war and get deeply wounded, to lose a child, to lose a mother and wife a year apart.

Strength isn't something you develop by choice. It isn't how many arm-wrestling tournaments you can win. It is your ability to get up every morning and to keep fighting, to keep smiling, to sing songs, to celebrate birthdays and holidays, to love and to keep living.

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____________________________________________
"We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand."
-Randy Pausch

"Бог дает одному наперсток ума и кувшин счастья, другому — кувшин ума и наперсток счастья."

Inspiration . . .

a TXT conversation between myself and a good friend [edited for grammar & language]:

Dec 3, 2009 1:31:47 PM
“She [her almost 4 year old daughter] is better. Unfortunately, we missed the tree lighting ceremony so hopefully we will go next week to Manhattan”
Dec 3, 2009 1:32:33 PM
“:-( da, will be nice to see all the displays and stuff. Trust me, it’s better to see tree lighting on TV, in reality, you can’t get through there.”
Dec 3, 2009 1:33:47 PM
“I know. So we are going to see Christmas Spectacular on Monday and I want to take her to the Disney store and Rockefeller Center next Friday.”
Dec 3, 2009 1:34:57 PM
“Awesome! You remind me so much of my mom! It’s really heartwarming…she used to take to all these things and everyone thought she was crazy.”
Dec 3, 2009 1:35:48 PM
“Actually, when I read your blog, it was a huge inspiration for me.”
Dec 3, 2009 1:37:09 PM
“You have no idea how big my smile is right now :D”

So, thank you mama for not only giving so much to me, but also for inspiring others.

I can't get this image out of my head

Stuffed but empty

It was a lovely family dinner. Happy turkey day! Gobble gobble.

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Giving Thanks

With the holidays quickly upon us, it’s the time of year to reflect, to give and to make resolutions. The last few years have been extremely difficult, but there’s still a lot to be thankful for. Unfortunately, my family has gotten smaller, not bigger, over the last few years, but I’m truly blessed to have these people in my life. Every family has its quirks and mine is no exception, but luckily its loving, nurturing and nothing short of amazing. At the top of the list are my wonderful parents who have devoted so much time, put so much love and instilled values. I’m thankful for hubs, who often misses on the brownie points on the small things, but always makes up for it on the things that matter. My older sister always makes me feel less alone and is there to give advice or just to chat and to tell me what I don’t always want to hear. While my nephews are going through a tough age and have an answer for everything, I love them for the smiles they always bring. My extended family of aunts and uncles, cousins and second cousins are caring and always there through the best and worst of it. Then, there are my friends, many of whom have become family over the years. At a recent bridal shower for one of my closest friends, I remember our moms discussing how different we all are and how lucky we are to have each other and to have built these friendships that have already survived the test of time. We’ve laughed together and cried together. We’ve partied until the wee hours of the night and often into morning. We’ve also held each others hands through the painful days and nights. We’ve celebrated birthdays, graduations, jobs, engagements, weddings, births and we’ve cried over broken hearts, school, work, loss of grandparents, parent(s). We’ve shared lunch, clothes, secrets, joy, sadness, friends, advice, sleepless nights and happy days.

Despite the difficulty that often arises with living, I’m thankful to be alive, to be healthy and to be surrounded with such wonderful people, even though some left much too soon. I’m thankful to be human and remain humane. I love you all.

Three Months

of eating, of crying, of job hunting, of sleeping, of moving, of starting a new job, of house hunting, of Facebooking, of raising $ for Race for the Cure, of not sleeping, of random blogging, of emptyness, of smiling, of celebrating, of drinks, of shopping, of cooking, of waiting for the train, of talking, of traveling, of procrastinating, of dinners, of emptyness, of living...without my mamochka.

MY Mamochka, a woman of incredible courage, infinite wisdom and undying strength. I love you.

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The Yankees Won

Winning is awesome even when you don't really win anything. It's a sense of pride that arises from being a part of something, from being a fan. I am rather surprised that I actually got into baseball this year. I guess the 8 years of hubs' subliminal messaging paid off. Also, I've been spending a lot of times with my nephews between their constant Yankees versus Mets feud. I remember the last time the Yankees won the World Series (funny, how it's called "world" when
really it's a US pasttime) a bunch of my guy friends showed up at my house with "Y", "A", "E", "S" written in huge letters on their backs and chests. It seems like a bazillion years ago when in reality it's only been 9. Most of them, I lost touch with. The last time I saw one of them was at my wedding and one of the others I recently caught up with on FB.

Time flies, people change and yet so much remains the same. I recently caught up with another friend on FB. We went to elementary and Junior High school together. Finally, we met for coffee today and despite completely different lives and an absense from each others' for the last 10+ years, we had a lot to talk about, to gab about and to reminisce about. Life takes you in such strange circles and really the one thing most of us win are friends. Some are won over with
charm, others with personality. Sports are a great example of teamwork, friendship and the reality that you can't conquer the other team (or the world) on your own.

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The grass is always greener - I'm looking for a career, not a job.

When it comes to just about anything it always seems that "the grass is greener on the other side" or as that saying goes, "marriage is like when you go out to dinner with your friends and wish you had ordered what your friend is having (or something along these lines.)" In life, at least in mine, "when it rains, it really, really pours." For hope of getting away from cliches for at least part of this post, let me elaborate. I've been actively and not so actively with obvious slumps and as many as three interviews a day looking for work since June. The market was dead. Suddenly, when I have an offer, the calls keep pouring in. They may or may not be other offers, but they areopportunities. What happens when you're faced with choice? Decisions. I hate them! How do you make the right one? When I'm set on something, I have no problem going for it, fighting for it and ultimately (hopefully) getting it. Yet, it's not often that I'm 100% certain of what I want.

The only thing that ever came easily to me was school. That's not to say I had straight A's or a 4.0, but I did well enough with minimal effort and always had time for a social life and work since age fifteen. By the same token, I had two classes my senior year of High School - accounting (because of the two-year commitment of the Academy of Finance program) and gym (which apparently I needed to graduate); I completed my undergard in 3.5 years and my masters in 1. Where was I rushing to? I was playing catch-up, with myself. Regardless, it wasn't a struggle. Everything else, was/is.

I don't like to complain (I can picture several people snickering at this comment), but I don't. It happens, yes, but never in regard to the important things. At least I'd like to think so. I also hate
asking for help, even when I need it, even when I feel suffocated without it. Through the years, I've learned to rely only on myself. If someone lends a hand in the process, its greatly appreciated and never gone unnoticed. I've learned to ask for help from people that I know Ican count on. Those relationships took years to build, but I am confident in their strength. I've learned to say, "no." Now, I have to learn how to make the best decision for Me and not for the world around me. Tips/comments are always appreciated and hard to come by.

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