On The Street Where You Live

My brother told me a few Sunday's ago, while we were all together for dinner, that the beloved house that we grew up in was for sale. 

Really, I thought. I had always fantasized about buying it back. 

He then showed us the listing on line. It was with much joy that we (thanks to technology) looked through the photos online of our childhood home. I could hardly believe my eyes..not much had changed since the 37 years ago that we moved out. I noticed the kitchen floor was the same tile floor my mom had installed in the 70's. The bathrooms looked to be the same bathroom we used as kids and the finished basement, where we had a bumper pool table and the neighborhood's first video games hadn't changed at all. Such happy memories growing up in that beloved house. 

For two weeks I couldn't get my house out of my head. Not to far from where I live now, I had often driven by the home and pointed it out to my children and my husband. Each time I watched and wondered why it had fallen into disrepair. I often said I would have given anything to get back inside and see it. Now was my chance and I knew that I probably wouldn't have this opportunity again. I watched the listing waiting for an open house opportunity and yesterday I had my chance!

I took my mom and we toured the house I grew up in. She was delighted to see the deep red, kitchen tile she installed still in pretty good shape. I was so taken by the closet doors, still slatted and with the same door handles that I grew up with. What wasn't so great about that was that the closets inside were still the same wooden dowels that we had hung our clothes many years before. They looked old because they were. Even the kitchen pantry, where I used to scour for goodies and treats, was the same four shelved wooden closet. It had stood the test of time, but because of that it was obviously time for change. 

The bathroom by the back door was the same! I swear my mom installed that Dixie cup dispenser when we were kids...and there it was. We wondered if going back into the house after all those years would be emotional, but it wasn't for either of us. It was great, really! And it felt so good to be able to remember good memories we shared inside the house. Truth is, it felt just like home-even with someone else's belongings everywhere. Even the realtor walked around with us as we toured the house, listening to us comment on everything. She later told us that we had made her day as it was obvious to her how much we loved living in that house.

I took a selfie in almost every room of the house and there I am inside my old room. I stood at the point where I used to sit and play records and dolls and I swear I could have stayed there all day-just happy to be inside. I took pictures for my brothers and sisters too, and I sent this picture to my brother of me outside the closet he used to lock me in-then take off and leave me there-when we played hide and go seek. Again-they were the same wooden shelves I had squeezed into when I was a kid. 

We left no stone unturned and we even toured the garage. 

My eyes spied this on the garage window.

That was my dad's security company that he owned when we lived there!! Mom was tickled to see it was still there. 

Standing there on the driveway where I learned to ride a two wheeler and skinned many a knee, it was obvious that even though we didn't live there any longer, we were still very much a part of that beautiful home and its legacy. If the old saying is true, that life takes you to unexpected places but love brings you home, then I have come full circle and truly come home. 

Will we buy it back? Who knows? We talked about it and we agreed that it seemed like after we left,  the people that lived in it stopped taking care of it, never truly loving it the way we did. We are intrigued to say the least, but we all agree-it needs a lot of love and some serious TLC.

My Brother Is Iron Man

Happy Friday Bloggers!

So, I told you a long time ago, that my brother was Iron Man, right? Today  I thought I'd post a little Iron Man T&A for the sexy people out there and ask you to go see my brother's new movie.

Iron Man 3 premiered last night and Gweneth KILLED it in this dress. She single handedly coined the new fashion term, "side ass". No wonder she is People Magazine's newly crowned "Most Beautiful Woman".

You go girl!

Have a great weekend bloggers and try to be the superhero in your loved one's lives this weekend!

We Were A Groovy Bunch

Every time I see this show it brings me back to my childhood. A happy time in my life, being the youngest of five, I sometimes caught a similarity to the Brady's life and the one that I was living. I could relate, which is probably why it was one of my favorites. I would be the Cindy in my family, and I can compare almost every Brady to one of our family. They had one more than we did, but we were nonetheless every bit as super goofy and fun as the Brady's.

Dare I say, we were a bit more sinister. 

My older brother and sisters were more daring than Marcia, Greg and Jan. They used to steal mom and dad's cars, have rousting parties when they weren't home and smoke cigarettes and drink beer with their friends in the pool area after dark. The Brady's would never do that. Or the Brady's would never do that on TV. My brothers used to fight till someone drew blood, yet you know that Peter absolutely idolized Greg and would never come to blows with him. 

Yes, my sisters fought over clothes and boys, and I remember the vicious battles over the sweaters, but Jan and Marsha always shared their stuff peacefully. Or so it seemed. In my family those "sharing" issues between sibling still remain today. In the TV world of the Brady's family issues were dealt with in 30 minutes or less. Is there a Brady playbook for handling teenage angst in 30 minutes or less?  It would be no less than literary gold.

So what did we learn from Mike, Carol, Alice and the clan, and why were we so mesmerized by this pseudo TV family? The answer lies in our idealization of the American family. The Brady's epitomize the traditional American family, because they are were not traditional at all. They were a blended family yet never was the word "step" used to describe a Brady. In fact, after the beginning theme song was over, you forgot that "this group must somehow form a family" and you bought into their world. Part of every kid who watched and worshiped them, wanted to be one of them. 

And so, in our own way, we too were like the Brady's. My family posed for a secret anniversary picture for mom and dad, we wrote letters to our favorite football heroes to help out a sibling, we got our noses broke by an errant ball here and there, and we may have used the words, "far out" and "groovy" to describe life. But most of all I think that in the archives of our lives, deep down, the Brady's gave us the validation that family was what mattered. Their tales and antics made ours seem special. That we too, were sort of like them. 

And every time I catch it on TV Land, I have to watch it. It brings me an unexplained peace that I never knew existed. It's a peace that only a child feels when they know they are loved and that they are safe. 

Squeezing The Juice

My friend Chris over at Knucklehead invited bloggers to join his, "Knuckleheads Blog-Off" 2011 a while back, and I decided to join in. Chris is an amazing writer with an amazing writing style and a whiz with detail, so I am stoked to have the opportunity to represent in his contest...even if he is a Jets fan. (BRING IT)

So, having said that, this is my entry for the Knuckleheads Blog-Off 2011 where the Round one topic is, "A Childhood Story".

This contest runs through Sunday, Jan 9th, 2011 to Wednesday night, and voting takes place on Knuckleheads blog. Results will be posted on Thursday morning, along with a new category.

Lets just say I hope I get the chance to go with a new topic. So vote for me bloggers, if you like my story....

HERE

I grew up in the seventies. The youngest of five, my two sisters arriving first in the birth order, then my two brothers, my mom says a girl was a welcome addition to the brood. Since my sisters were already grown and gone when I reached my younger, formative years, my brothers became my closest playmates and as such, their world became mine. Safe to say that sports was at their epi-center. Cute, and pony tailed, if I wanted to hang with the boys, I had no choice but to become malleable and go with THEIR flow. I knew no other way and I lived to hang with them and do what they were doing. My brother, closest to me in age, was five years older and since I came into the picture, he made it his job to terrorize and torture me. To him this was almost better than anything, making his baby sister perform at his whim, and like a trained seal, I complied with his every command.

If we were playing hide and go seek, he would grab me for his team, hide me in the toughest of places, vowing I would never be found by our opponent, and then leave me there.... For what seemed like an eternity.... Eventually I would find my way out of the middle shelf of the closet, covered by the bath towels and perspiration and seek him out. Crying and angry, I played the only card I had in my deck of one. "I'm telling mom." It was like a magic "be mean to your sister" antidote and my brother would then turn on the charm and vow to never do it again.....until the next time I trusted him. Which usually wasn't very long after.

One of the games we used to play together he called, "The Juice", which is ironic because he killed me every time we played it. "You are The Juice, and I am the defensive line," he would say coyly. "You have the ball and you have to get through ME to score a touchdown and win the game." And I bought it, hook, line and sinker. I couldn't believe my good fortune! I get to be the star running back and win the game. I figured it wouldn't be too hard as I had seen it happen lots of times on TV, and my brother was playing with JUST me. What luck!

I'm sure I don't need to tell you that The Juice got knocked down more than a Mike Tyson opponent during his championship years, but I always got up and went back for more, ever unsure of whether or not I liked this particular game. I never let on and I continued to play this game for years, bruised and battered, never utilizing my Ace in the hole when mom asked where the bruises came from. Looking back, I really have to thank my brother. Not only does my love of sports supersede every other girl I came in contact with, but this little game we played every so often made me tough as nails. Although I never knew it until years later.

Flash forward, we are now in our twenties, and although much more mature, the big brother power he held still reigned. I'm not quite sure what we were arguing about or why, it seemed to be something having to do with Ramen Noodle soup and the microwave, but that detail is not important. What I remember clear as day, is the sheer terror of my brothers anger, directed at me and my running away from his clenched fist in the heat of the argument. By that time we had moved from the sprawling home of my formative years, one that housed five children, to a smaller more modern home with much less running room.

My brother chased me and had me cornered in our tiny bathroom downstairs and he looked to me like Ferdinand the bull, steam escaping from his flared nostrils. I had painted myself into a corner and I knew one thing for certain....I was gonna die if I didn't think fast. With no where to go, trapped like a rat, as they say, I turned around and clocked my brother square in the chin with MY clenched fist. The sound of imaginary bells began ringing in my head. I think my brother's eyes turned into two black x's and I might have even seen a tweedy bird or two fly around his head, but the chase stopped right there and so did my brother's reign as dictator.

The Juice was no longer ripe for the squeezing, and my brother and I ate the Ramen Noodle soup in silence. I think we both learned a valuable lesson that night. With every teacher/student relationship, eventually the student becomes the teacher. I don't think my brother has ever looked at a glass of orange juice with the same confidence again.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

It's so true. Just like the song says, sometimes you just wanna go where everybody knows your name. Over the weekend, my brother was inducted into the little, tiny, hometown high school we grew up in, Athletic Hall of Fame for his play on the ice hockey team during his tenure at good old, WHS. When I heard about the honor, I told him I wanted to go to the ceremony and bring my family. At first I thought it would be kind of ridiculous for all of us to be there (my husband and kids) at my brother's evening, but I decided I didn't care because I was so proud of him. No one in my family has ever received an honor like that, and although our town was about as big as a minute, I didn't want to miss it.

When I arrived at the function hall, I was struck by how many people were there and by how many people I knew. Everybody was well dressed, and there were lots of other families there as well, proud to support their inductee's. The evening began with a cocktail hour, which was like a mini-reunion. It was even better than your class reunion, because there were people who were friends of friend's brothers, sisters, cousins and family and people of all ages from our small town. And, yes, everybody knew my name, and I theirs. It gave me a happy, warm and fuzzy feeling. It was a blast, introducing Frick and Frack to everybody. Immediately you got the feeling that this was important to all those involved.

The ceremony, which was to induct 15 honorees that night, began with the first ever Lifetime Achievement award. A WHS graduate, Boston Globe Sports Writer, and author, was honored for not only her accomplishments in life, but for her athletic contributions while at WHS. She spoke of her memories, her coaches and the people she met and worked with at WHS that helped influence her life in a positive way. She, who has worked with the likes of Larry Bird and Magic Johnson co-authoring a book, was not name-dropping on this night. On this night, she humbly spoke about growing up in our town, "The home of Champions" and about the pride and the people who made her years at WHS special.

She asked the five women who she brought with her seated at her table, to please stand. She called them her "Ya Ya's" and spoke of how their high school friendships have endured over the years. She told a story about last year, they all turning 50, traveling together to the Grand Canyon, to ride donkeys into the enormous cavern to celebrate the milestone together. These friendships, these people, she said, have helped to shaped her into who she is today.

I guess my brother agreed. When it was his turn at the podium, he told a story about coaching his son's lacrosse team earlier this year. My brother, who now lives two towns over from the little town we grew up in, was coaching his son's team who just so happened to be playing the town of our childhood. "Of course I wanted to beat them," he said. As he was calling his team over to the side lines, he was clapping his hands together, mistakenly calling his son's team by the name of the town he had grown up in. The kids looked at him and corrected him sternly, "Coach, we are the other team," they said. He chuckled at his own gaffe. His response to them and the coach of the other team. "I guess I still bleed green and white." And everybody in that room that night understood exactly what he meant. The pride was palpable. He finished his speech with this, "I guess you can take the boy out of WHS, but you really can never take the WHS outta the boy."

Well said, and congrats to you big bro. Your family and your hometown couldn't be prouder of you.

Alpha Male

So my brother and I are driving home from Frack's lacrosse game on Sunday; his son and my son in the back seat. We're having our usual back and forth, funny banter when we have a slight disagreement about some random fact. After a couple of simple, "no that's not right's." my brother says, "Calm down alpha male, You're doing way too much talking." And it hits me.

Am I the alpha male? My response to him, "whatever.." because I'm sure I was right about the random fact anyway. You know how one of you siblings or a family member says something to you or about you and it makes you think? Especially one that has the birth order edge over you. So I thought about it.

I have been a little on edge lately. Shit, I got a lot going on right now, but so does everyone. My Guy told me I seemed a little on edge lately, too. So why does this make me the alpha male? The alpha male is dominant. Am I dominant? (insert dominatrix joke here)

• I think all mothers have a somewhat dominant role within the home. Like the female lion, it is my job to feed my family and nurture them.
• I am a small business owner and employer and as such I assume a dominant role in my career. I have to take on a confident role in building my brand and creating a demand for my product or I will not survive.
• I work hard and I play hard, which is why I get mad hard. I live for the passion. Sometimes I'm like the Celtics Big Baby Davis; drooling, but I don't care.
• I have a short fuse,but I think I am learning, through owning my own business, to apply critical thinking to a problem instead of emotion. The results are always better.
• I have a lot going on at the moment and I'm trying to be all things to all people. If the dominant skills are helping to keep me on track, then so be it.

You know the more I think about it, the more I think my brother could be absolutely right! I could possibly be the alpha male...Moody, bossy, and in charge. Here I am juggling more than a few plates in the air and getting no appreciation from him. Thanks, man.

So in my best Alpha Male voice, I should have ended the entire discussion simply and told my brother to, " shut up and bring me my paper."

My Brother And Iron Man

Remember I told you a while back that everybody tells me I look like Mariah Carey? Well my moms must have some super power genes, because another one of her spawn has a celebrity look alike. The man underneath Robert Downey Jr. is my brother. Almost every time I watch a Robert Downey Jr. movie, I feel like I'm looking at my brother on the big screen. Seriously, they have the same mannerisms and everything.

In honor of today being the opening of Iron Man 2, I thought I'd do a Top Ten List on Why My Brother Is Better Than Iron Man.

10. Everybody knows that Iron Man and My Brother both enjoy a few drinks every now and then. Iron Man let drinking almost ruin his life. My Brother, on the other hand, has perfected a good drunk, turning it into a fine art, there by enhancing his social status.

9. Iron Man went to MIT and was always fascinated with building and controlling machines. He built complicated weaponry for his country. My brother went to State College and can recall any New England Patriot statistic from any year or any Boston Red Sox stat. The man is a walking sports encyclopedia and is in the wrong profession. He should be saving the world from boring play by play commentators. Fox Sports has no idea what they are missing.

He also raised me on home grown sports.

8. Does Iron Man have a 6 handicap?? I don't think so.

7. Funny dosen't begin to cover it.

Iron Man can go and save the world, defeat villians like Nitro and Scarlet Witch, but My Brother kills everybody with his comedy. When he is in attendance at a social event, buckle your seat belt because he almost always puts on a great stand-up show. Many of us have been known to go home with a headache and sore cheeks from laughing too much. No lie.

6. Iron Man is the head of Stark Industries, a company he inherited from his deceased father. Stark is a genius; however, he is also a playboy. Iron Man is the figurehead for his company while his father’s old partner takes care of day-to-day operations. My Brother is partners with our older brother in a super successful company that bears their name. While our older brother handles day-to day operations, My Brother handles his "real" job out on the 18 holes of his country club, day-to day.

5. Did I mention that My Brother has a 6 handicap?

4. Iron Man had no siblings, but I'm sure that Tony Stark treated his colleagues, friends and relatives with respect. My Brother treated me with the uttmost respect when we were little. Especially when he told me that we were going to play a game together. He always let me be the super star. I remember one game where he told me that I was "OJ Simpson, The Juice" and the object was to try to run past the defensive line (him). After the punishing hits I absorbed, he wiped away my tears ever so gently with, "Don't tell mom, ok?"

3. Without his suit, Iron Man has no special powers. When he puts on a suit of armor his superpowers give him the super strength to fight villians. My Brother puts on a suit and it gives him super chick magnet powers. He needs super powers to fight them off. Even without a suit, women, children, dogs, cats; they all love him. It's a curse.

2. Tony Stark decided to announce to the world, at a press conference that he is Iron Man. My Brother needs no press conference, media or anything else to announce to his two children that he is a super hero.

And the Number One reason why My Brother is better than Iron Man?

1. Because I said so.

Anyone who can party like Robert Downey Jr., look like Iron Man, Sherlock Holmes, Charlie Chaplin and a movie star while doing it, is an Iron Man in his own right.

You Decide: A Rare Photo Op Of Candy's Dandy Family

Photo 1

My moms birthday is coming up in a few weeks, so two nights ago my brothers and sisters and I got together at my house. We took some pictures to have framed to give to my mom as a gift. We took 45 pictures and we have narrowed it down to three, but of course, we can't decide. It all comes down to the battle of the sexes; the boys vs. the girls.

I'm putting it out there for you all to decide. Please vote for the one you think is the best photograph on the poll on my sidebar and let's see which one wins because I have to get this sucker to the framer, today.

OK, so the photograph above is the one all the girls agree on. We love this photo. We like the way my older brother has his arms around all of us and the fact that everyone looks great. We think this is a no-brainer. BUT my brother, does not like this one. He likes this one:

Photo 2

While we all agree that this is a great photo, we think this one is not as warm or appealing as Photo 1. This one would be great in an 8x10 framed for a table photo, but not in a big 11x17 wall portrait size. The girls think this one is too perfectly spaced, and does not show our personalities as much as Photo 1, but the boys like this one and think that visually this is a better photo. (Do men and women see spacial relations differently??)

Photo 3

This is the third option and it is the one that everyone looks at and says,"You know, I kinda like this one too." After much deliberation we (the girls) decided that this one was too "pose-y", with all of us lined up according to height, but again, it's a shot we keep coming back to. A great candidate for a 8x10 or a 5x7.

Thanks so much for helping us out. Please vote and let's see what happens.
We thought about having them all framed together in one big collage, then unanimously decided we wanted just one shot for a wall portrait. We will most likely frame the runners-up, in 8x10's and we will make an album for mom with the rest of the shots.

A few side notes-
14 year-old Frick took all the shots. Didn't she do a fabulous job??? Props to Frick!!

This was a ton of fun and I highly recommend doing it if you have a special occasion to mark.

It's amazing to me that we got the shots that we did. Since my brother, the one in the white golf shirt, is quite possibly the funniest human being on the planet, there were a whole bunch like this:





These are, for sure, our most favorite!