And So It Begins...

If you ask me, I would have to say that this is the most wonderful time of the year. No doubt, it's definitely the best time of the year to be a Boston sports fan. The city is abuzz with all our teams, but none more than our beloved Red Sox. Forever the Fenway Faithful, young and old in this city proudly wear their Red Sox gear as they go through daily life these days. Conversations in the supermarket checkout lines about Grand Slams and walk off home runs take place between the most unlikely and everyone knows what a ground rule double looks like. The biggest question asked is did you fall asleep or did you stay awake to see them win?Baseball in October doesn't get any better when our boys are playing and you can feel the fever the moment you step foot anywhere in this city.

Then there's My Tommy and the Patriots. Take for example Sunday night on my Jet Blue flight home to Boston. Our 5pm departure set up the perfect viewing for the 4pm game against New Orleans. Alone in my headphones, I was quietly wincing and cheering throughout the game and even switching channels when it got too frustrating to watch. But everywhere around me had the game on too; every other seat or even every seat was watching the events play out on their TV's and I was never more than a glance away from the action. It's how I figured out that the Pats got the ball back with a minute to play, one touchdown away from winning the game. And one should never count My Tommy out in that situation.

We were squirming, and praying and then the amazing pass into the end zone to win the game happened and the ENTIRE PLANE erupted in cheers. It caught me off guard because I had been so engrossed in my own headphone and monitor that I had forgotten that a few hundred other people were watching it too. There we were together, cheering our team's exciting victory, united if only for a moment hundreds of miles up in the sky above the clouds.

And that's what it feels like.

The camaraderie and connection we feel to these few players who we can call our own make us proud to wear the colors. Together we can feel good about the events of the game and if only for a moment we are one. United in sport and our love of the game and united in the place we call home.

And so it begins....and so far, it's been one hell of a ride!

I'm Outta Here...

Sorry bloggers...but I'm off like a prom dress.

As of 3 PM today I am officially on mini vacation, and boy do I need it. I'm headed on a trip with my two bestest girl friends to a sunny Floridian destination for the rest of the week.This trip couldn't have come at a better time too. I think a bit of Vitamin D will do me some good!

I will be gone from today, Wednesday October 9th, 2013, till Sunday, Oct 13th 2013. I will return to the bloggersphere on Tuesday, Oct 14th, 2013. And I'm sure you won't miss me... what with all the whining and crying I've been doing lately.I promise a dose of BFF fun and some relaxation are going to recharge my battery.

Take care of each other while I'm away bloggers, and try not to whine and cry...

I'll try not to as well while I'm sipping on my frozen drink, poolside.

Have a great week!

Monday Morning

Ughhh. Monday...

If you ask me Sunday is the greatest day of the week.
But not yesterday. Sunday is my only day of the week to power down and re-charge my battery. But not yesterday.

Yesterday sucked.

Yesterday was right up there with one of the worst days of my life. Top five for sure.
What I learned:

• I'm not superwoman.
• I have to ask for help because I need it.
• I'm fooling no one but myself and I'm not even fooling myself, which means I suck at that too.

So here it is Monday and I'm completely depleted of any optimism or freshness. I'm stuck here in hell and I need to get out. I'm feeling like I'm waaay back at my opponent's 5 yard line and there is not a receiver in sight. Do I take the sack or do I take my ball and get off the field? Neither option is going to give me any relief. And the kicker? It's a gloomy, misty, cold Monday morning. Not even a dose of vitamin D to get me going. 

Why bother?

Anyone seen my mojo? Let it know I'm lobbing a Hail Mary to the end zone and I'm going to pray it gets caught. 

Friday Funny

Happy Friday Bloggers!

Ya, I got some serious swag today cuz I'm going to game one of the ALDS at Fenway! It's about time too, I have only been to one game all season. Go Sox! Let's hope they have some dope ass swagger like my little friend here. BEST PART: his cookie monster hat!!

Have a great weekend bloggers and try and get your swagger on!

Mean Old Mrs. Reeves...A Re-Post

I wrote this one back in 2011, but it still stands true today.

I had this third grade teacher who was just plain old mean. I'll never forget the bitch because I think my eight year old self might have taught her a lesson.

She was the kind of teacher that yelled...a lot. We were petrified of her and if she was nice to you, you strove to keep things that way. Nobody wanted to be on Mrs. Reeves' bad side. She was teaching us our multiplication times tables and she would shout out randomly, "Candy, what is 5 times 6?" She gave you all of two seconds and if you didn't know the answer in a mili-second she would ask someone else. I swear, I still can't call those multiplication times tables to mind quickly because I was traumatized by her back then.

Well, the end of school came and it was the second to last day of school. We had field day, when all the classes competed against each other for ribbons in stuff like the egg toss and tug of war. I think it rained on our field day, because it was in the school gym. We were in a single line, passing by the library for our treat, a big m&m cookie, when I tripped over my untied shoe lace and skinned my knee.

Mrs. Reeves, being the bitch that she was, yelled at me and sent me to the nurse for a band-aid and told me in an exasperated manner that she would get my cookie and put it on my desk. Off I went to the nurse who gave me some TLC and a band-aid and I was sent on my way. When I returned to the classroom, everyone was laughing and sharing in a celebration with punch and cookies. There was no cookie on my desk. So I went up to Mrs. Reeves and quietly asked her if she had gotten me a cookie.

For whatever reason this set her off, and she hailed a barrage of screaming at me that literally caused wind burn on my face. I was mortified, embarrassed and pissed off at this injustice. And I was fed up with her. She told me to go sit at my desk and as I walked over to my chair, instead of sitting, I slammed the chair as hard as I could into the desk and I took off!!

Eight years old and I was free!!! Free of that rotten bitch Mrs. Reeves and free out the door of the school. I was going home. I wasn't going to take her abuse for one more second. I think I might have been laughing as I ran up the street towards home, but I felt good knowing that I had taken a stand against mean old Mrs. Reeves.

I kept going, triumphant in my quest to get home, until I saw our school Principal's car pull up beside me. Now if you think Mrs. Reeves was a bitch, then Ms. Hadelski was Osama Bin Laden and I knew I was screwed. Panicked, I began to run faster but she caught up to me, except she wasn't mean at all. In fact, she was nice. She told me that we needed to talk and that she would love to give me a ride back to school.

So I went with her, all the while, talking. She was calm and clear and not at all threatening. But I was ready for her and old Reeves, fists clenched. When we got back to school, I sat in her office while, get this, Hadelski got me a cookie and some punch. She never called my mom and I got into no trouble. She told me I didn't have to go back into my classroom if I didn't want to and I didn't want to.

When school was over, I went home on the school bus and awaited my punishment because by now I figured my mom had been called. But she never said a word. How could this be? My mom never brought it up and neither did I. I went reluctantly back to school, the last day and Reeves was waiting for me when I got there like a predator waiting for her prey. She took me out into the corridor and began yelling at me about how dangerous my behavior was, blah, blah blah. She asked me if I had told my mother about what happened, and I was silent. I think I was paralyzed with fear because I couldn't speak, but what that bitch did next was unforgivable.

She grabbed me by the arm, hard, and began demanding that I answer her. All I could feel was pain in my arm from where she was squeezing me, and instinctively I kicked her as hard as I could in the shin, multiple times, until she released my arm. At this time other teachers in other classrooms came out to see what the commotion was in the hallway and there we were, standing with heaving breath and red faces looking at each other.

Reeves went back into the classroom and so did I. She never came near me again, and the rest of the day went peacefully. I was kind of a celebrity with the boys and I enjoyed a pleasant last day of school. I thought for sure I would be in trouble when I got home, but my mom never said a word about it. They never told her.

Looking back, I think I know why. Reeves was an abusive teacher and she had been a problem throughout the year, and not just with me. I think I was the only one to stand up to her, me in all my eight year old bravado. I never saw Mrs. Reeves again, but I will never forget her.

I'm sure some where in the depths of her mind she will never forget me either. I took a stand against her abuse and she messed with the wrong kid.

Of that, I am certain.

Wednesday Whoa..

I'm um....

I think?

If I were sitting on the sofa with Joan Rivers and Kelly Osbourne, I would have to say that this:

Is possibly thisclose to a MAJOR  fashion moment. Almost, but not quite.

Death Row Dinner

If I was to face the firing squad tomorrow, I would have no problem choosing my final meal.

Without question, it would be my very own spaghetti and meatballs. Nothing spells lovin like a heaping plate of awesome. Growing up, my mom's recipe was a sure thing to bring us all home, together at the table for mom's spaghetti and meatballs. I have since perfected the recipe and now they all come home for my brand of spaghetti love. It's the kind of dinner that everybody is dreaming about all day. I could never share the recipe here. Sorry, but then I'd have to kill you-as this treasured concoction has been handed down from mother to daughter and will continue from mother to daughter. It's a sacred bond.

Electric chair tomorrow? What would be your choice?