tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319422362024-03-07T19:17:41.985-08:00TABBATabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.comBlogger475125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-44303234674083444932009-05-17T10:25:00.000-07:002009-05-17T10:34:14.415-07:00Sunday Morning...err...Early Afternoon Song of the Moment, by RavHere is one of Tabba's new faves. She is sitting at the kitchen table, diligently doing her school work. Currently she is also angry because I am an ass. Which I am. So without further ado, Good Arms Vs. Bad Arms by Frightened Rabbit:<br /><br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eKlibntJmTc&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eKlibntJmTc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-65707016998001974882009-04-19T07:33:00.000-07:002009-04-19T07:35:04.313-07:00Sunday Morning Song of the MomentThis week it's a cover. A Buddy Holly cover. I thoroughly enjoy M. Ward's version of <em>Rave On</em>. I hope you enjoy it too!<br />Have a great Sunday!<br /><br /><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-uVj_LCMv70&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-uVj_LCMv70&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-32901395095483148192009-04-15T16:41:00.001-07:002009-04-15T16:47:01.358-07:00Christmas, It's Just A Trip Up 295 and Over The BridgeThe other day, I was snuggling in close to Gracie on the sofa. She looks at me so intent, so sweet and she says, "Mommy? Is Christmas gone forever?" I chuckle to myself a little and answer her the best way that I could think of at that moment and reply, "No, honey. It's not gone forever. It's just not Christmastime now." <br />"Oh." She says and thinks on that for a moment. She then asks, "Well, when will it be Christmastime again?" I say to her, "Well, it's Spring now. Christmas is in the winter. Christmas is far away." <br />"Oooooohhhh." she says again. By George, I think she's got it. Her eyes get all wide and I can see that she understands now. "So Christmas is far away. Like New Jersey?"Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-41812802957122289482009-04-12T08:30:00.000-07:002009-04-12T08:42:36.610-07:00Sunday Morning Song of the Moment (It feels good to be back)As it is 11:30 a.m. EST, it is still technically morning. The past two days have found us lazing about. We've needed the time to unwind. As a family, we have been contracting and releasing, contracting and releasing ad nauseum for months. So this still time, this lazy time has been a much needed reprieve.<br /><br />After months of being MIA and collecting some "new" music I give you the house special. The Sunday Morning song post. I've missed my little baby over here. It seems that these little posts struck a chord with some of you & I didn't know that until I stopped doing them for so long. Here you go...one of my latest favorites<em>: Old Old Fashioned </em>by Frightened Rabbits. It makes a lot of sense to me right now. I hope that you enjoy!<br /><br /><br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fSRlzIgOSRw&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fSRlzIgOSRw&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-83253046290177618032009-04-05T15:28:00.000-07:002009-04-05T15:48:35.057-07:00It's OfficialI'm old. <br />You're probably laughing - if you know me.<br />October 2008 came and went. And with it my 30th birthday.<br />Which, I grant you, does not put me on the list for AARP or social security or Depends.<br />But it's official. <br />You wanna know how I know?<br />I'll tell you.<br /><br />Do you remember listening to an elder - a grandparent, aunt, uncle, family friend who was long in the tooth? They had seen it all. And they weren't afraid to tell you about it. Truth be told, when you look back, you relish in their wisdom and their ability to adapt and change to the changing times. But when you were a kid that didn't mean you didn't roll your eyes when they would settle into their chair, let out a loooong sigh, possibly hike up their polyester pants (or maybe even undo their belt) and regail you with how "things used to be".<br /><br />Well it shames me to admit it, but I have turned in to that person. And it hit me last weekend like a brick in the head. Rav & I were on our way home from my dad's house. It was a celebration of sorts - more on that another time. It was a beautiful, bright sunny Sunday and I decided to take the country road home. I used to drive that country road with my dad to get to The Farm or to take a ride - just the two of us. On certain Spring days, the air will smell sweet and clean and it will take me down that country road in my mind. I will remember snippets of conversation my dad & I had when traveling that road. It's peaceful and beautiful and one part of Delaware that had remained untouched by the sprawl that the (then)booming banking industry inflicted on other open fields in our state. <br /><br />I haven't taken a Sunday drive (see, right there? That in of itself makes me old) on that country road in years. Quite frankly, it has been too painful. After The Farm was sold, I couldn't bear to drive it. It was just too raw. But I decided that day that it was time. The kids fell asleep as I drove at nice pace, windows open. The slight breeze would blow their hair and I sighed. Yes. I thought to myself. Yes. This was a good idea. Eventually Rav even fell asleep and I was left alone with the air and my memories as I drove.<br /><br />Then it happened. And there they were. On either side of the road were sprawling neighborhoods filled with cookie cutter homes. No trees. And filling up fields that once went on as far as the eye could see. It turned my stomach. Literally. I let out a cry in horror. It was loud enough that it awoke my peaceful napping husband. He startled awake, looking back and forth, "Wha-, Wha-.....What?? What's going on?" He managed to sputter out. "LOOK AT THAT! DO YOU SEE IT? ISN'T THIS HORRIBLE?" He grumbled and fell back asleep. He left me alone to have a conversation with myself about how "that field right.there. was where there once was a family farm. See where that neighborhood is??? Yeah. There used to be a horse farm THERE." This went on and on inside my head. And that was when it hit me. That I was old. That I am 30 years old and cannot bear to see change. I cannot bear to see change when it turns farmland into sprawling, overcrowded neighborhoods full of McMansions on teeny-tiny plots of "yard". It's almost more than I can bear.<br /><br />I realized that my delusions of change creeping everywhere else but that country road are just that. Delusions. I realized that my home state is turning into one big, sprawling neighborhood. <br /><br />Most of all. I realized I am aging. And that I am slowly becoming that person I used to roll my eyes at. And the most I can hope for is that I learn to adapt and change along with it.Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-4301617407156576712009-03-25T11:01:00.000-07:002009-03-25T11:02:50.153-07:00Should I?I miss this. I miss writing. I miss sharing. I miss your voices and I miss my Sunday posts.<br /><br />Should I start over again here or somewhere else??Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-68737367793654858802008-08-06T10:45:00.000-07:002008-08-06T11:24:17.582-07:00Mother's Blues<div>Three years ago, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">famiglia</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">de</span> Ravioli really struggled.<br />We threw our hands up in the air.<br />We huffed and puffed.<br />We shook our heads in resignation.<br />We wondered <em>What in the hell is going on? What did we do wrong? What can we do now?</em><br /><em></em><br />Connor was struggling and as a result we were struggling too.<br />I knew before I knew that this was beyond us and we'd have to get help.<br />And we did.<br />And things were good.<br /><br />He finished kindergarten without major incident.<br />And he is barely receiving any "extra" help or services. </div><div>We've seen some old behaviors/issues peak out of old, long forgotten places.</div><div>And we've seen some new things come up.</div><div>The summer has been rough.<br /><br />And now he's heading to 1st grade.<br />Where he'll be expected to sit at a desk.<br />I well up with tears and feel a sneaking claw of panic grip my throat and chest.<br /><br />Because we have to start over with a new teacher.<br />She has to figure out Connor.<br />He's a complicated fellow.<br />And yet at the same time, so easy to figure out.<br />Which makes it even more complex and complicated in the difficult simplicity of his personality.<br /><br />I panic because a lot of his own family and friends don't understand him.<br />Do not understand that his lack of physical/eye contact <em>isn't</em> a personal affront.<br />They don't understand how <em>full</em> his mind is. And how when it gets too full he bursts at the seams.<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0USlI81n1GBSwoToOGHv5p3Bqh3Jw6lM33RwFh76-ID4tSewz7fbUTSwRymy3odIhjf2h4TiDvW8FWxivfo_FSKZzKEOGvaIUA54PfQr42-9jIQkmpc_9Pt0PMsxYosAQiE4/s1600-h/100_2576.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231471848635612674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0USlI81n1GBSwoToOGHv5p3Bqh3Jw6lM33RwFh76-ID4tSewz7fbUTSwRymy3odIhjf2h4TiDvW8FWxivfo_FSKZzKEOGvaIUA54PfQr42-9jIQkmpc_9Pt0PMsxYosAQiE4/s320/100_2576.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />They don't understand that his desire to hide when entering a new social situation is not<br />because he doesn't want to see them, it's because his body processes commotion and change<br />much differently than the rest of us.<br /><br />My heart still breaks for the kid, my kid, our kid<br />that many people will not get to <em>know</em>.<br />Because they leave his aloofness at the door and handle him at arm's length.<br />Simply because they just<br />don't understand or try to.<br />Or pretend to.<br />But we see the difference between true, genuine love and acceptance<br />and the feigned.<br />Parents can tell the difference.<br />And so can the kids.<br /><em>He</em> can tell.<br /><br />And I just want to scream and cry and thrash on the floor and kick people in the shins<br />because it's just so unfair and damned frustrating.Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-75027619244748945142008-08-05T10:21:00.000-07:002008-08-05T10:24:33.108-07:00Sunday Morning Song of the Moment - Tuesday EditionSunday found us running around like well, crazy people.<br />We were preparing the house for a small gathering of family members <br />and just a few friends to help us celebrate<br />Connor and Gracie's birthday.<br /><br />It was a picture-perfect day.<br />It was warm and breezy rather than<br />Delaware's famous hot and humid.<br /><br />The kids had a great day and I think the adults did too.<br /><br />So here is my song that I would have chosen. <br />Just two days late.<br /><br />There is no story.<br />I just love the song.<br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bbv8d6tBFFI&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bbv8d6tBFFI&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-87462115811502906032008-07-28T18:49:00.000-07:002008-07-28T19:14:48.252-07:00Not Always an Easy Question<a href="http://tagteamingit.blogspot.com/">Aliki</a> asked me today: "How ARE you?"<br /><br /><br />This got me thinking about the nature of the question.<br />In most cases, it can be a pretty pedestrian question.<br />You could walk into an A&P and ask someone, "How are you?"<br />You would most likely get an, "I'm fine and you?" in return.<br />Most of the time, the question is asked without any <em>real</em> answer.<br />Most of the time, you ask the question and you don't <em>want</em> the answer.<br /><br /><br />I also know that I'm usually a caretaker-type personality.<br />I'm usually the one that people are coming to for help, advice, and guidance (in real life).<br />So rarely am I asked the question.<br /><br />And that is OK.<br />Most of the time, I am OK.<br />There usually isn't much to tell.<br />I'm a pretty open book.<br /><br /><br />So, when I opened my gmail and saw the comment (in the form of an email) where Aliki asked the question, it made me smile. It made me stop for a moment and ask myself:<br /><em>How ARE you?</em><br /><br /><br />Rather a simple question.<br />It shouldn't be hard to answer.<br />But it is.<br />Today it is. Well, sort of.<br /><br />++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++<br /><br /><br />I made a lot of progress this past year letting go of the little girl who was screaming on the inside.<br />But she's back.<br />She's back after my mom told me that she is leaving my stepdad.<br />I'm a grown woman, I know.<br />But the way in which my mom does this knee-jerk reaction thing and well,<br /><em>running</em><br />just brings back some memories which I thought were long dealt with.<br />On a less selfish, egotistical note<br />I'm thinking of the implications this will have on Connor and Gracie.<br /><br /><br /><br />Rav & I have been dealing with a family issue which I really am not at liberty to discuss here.<br />While it has certainly taken its toll, it has only helped us to talk through some things and take stock.<br />The ripple effects are heartbreaking.<br /><br /><br />I'm going through yet another spiritual awakening of sorts and have<br />come to some realizations that are wonderful, scary, and comforting<br />all at once. I'd love to blog about this, but I don't know if it will ever come about.<br /><br /><br />The biggest thing is that, despite turmoil and stress, I'm staying even. I'm not hiding.<br />I'm good.<br /><br />Rav and I are strong in our relationship. We have our days, like we all do. But I am so, so thankful for our solid relationship.<br />I realize how connected we are and how we are lucky to still have passion.<br /><br /><br />Ours isn't a perfect life.<br />Far from it.<br />But we've made it together.<br />We work hard at it.<br /><br />And it's perfect for us.<br /><br /><br /><br />So, to answer the question:<br />At the end of the day.<br />When my head hits the pillow<br />I am thankful.<br /><br />And I am good.<br /><br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uZSobH1wiiM&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uZSobH1wiiM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-37773710076834596472008-07-22T12:52:00.000-07:002008-07-22T13:03:30.914-07:004 Years and Several Pounds Ago<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAdIglGQBC-owvkoR0jVqCIUVrVT6cMt4r0KaIp4XIsCcthvDgPj3Z0hrJJqroaARBc_aPFXvezHa1st_WGtbAsgZuao5aDqlb-ufwv4BZgrEYRLs4FEiflkuGGEb0N2Hhcnz/s1600-h/100_2475.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAdIglGQBC-owvkoR0jVqCIUVrVT6cMt4r0KaIp4XIsCcthvDgPj3Z0hrJJqroaARBc_aPFXvezHa1st_WGtbAsgZuao5aDqlb-ufwv4BZgrEYRLs4FEiflkuGGEb0N2Hhcnz/s320/100_2475.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225931524927289298" /></a><br />I gave birth to Gracie.<br />On July 22, 2004.<br /><br />My pregnancy caused great stress and I wondered how we would get through.<br />A double-blow was dealt when I found out that we were having a girl.<br />I wondered how.<br /><br />How I would mother a <em>girl.</em><br />I knew love and hugs would be involved. That's easy.<br />But it was all of that other stuff.<br /><br />Needless to say, it's been fine.<br />Beyond fine.<br />I still struggle with the horror of horrors:<br />Princess crap.<br />I draw the line at tiaras and clothing with the words <em>princess</em> on it.<br />But she's a girl.<br />Through and through.<br /><br />Despite being my daughter, she is my rock.<br />She has no idea that there are days when she is what is holding me together.<br />And I recognize that might not be good.<br />But all it takes is for her to smile or touch me.<br />And I know it will all be OK.<br /><br />She is full of something that I will never possess.<br />She is what would happen if you mixed the very best parts of Rav and I<br />but only<br />made it better.<br />She is that fantabulous.<br /><br />I love my daughter.<br />My girl.<br />Happy Birthday, my little lovely.<br /><br />Here is your (latest) favorite song.<br />May you hold it close. And remember it is so true.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rLxTpsIVzzo&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rLxTpsIVzzo&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-26126436266824304942008-07-10T15:42:00.000-07:002008-07-10T16:07:21.054-07:00Words WorthI try to squeeze in all of my leisure reading during the summer.<br />During the academic year I'm too busy with my required reading to take the time to read for pleasure.<br />So with my impending (temporary) unemployment and my sojourn from school, I plowed into my first book of the summer.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoa1OWkCm81iAJmANEKlrfA5TjkFHOxeGdxdhUgR_4VXS3HcgB1BaBz_GXBkByx2TBAbDYEltUe6IW7mR0JJARTcpagyI6ulE_m4noWwC_6DSKKUJauTVR2tifIm_6TAsmDJtg/s1600-h/51cRP93JxgL._SL500_BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-dp-500-arrow,TopRight,45,-64_OU01_AA240_SH20_%5B1%5D.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221520090087087362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoa1OWkCm81iAJmANEKlrfA5TjkFHOxeGdxdhUgR_4VXS3HcgB1BaBz_GXBkByx2TBAbDYEltUe6IW7mR0JJARTcpagyI6ulE_m4noWwC_6DSKKUJauTVR2tifIm_6TAsmDJtg/s320/51cRP93JxgL._SL500_BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-dp-500-arrow,TopRight,45,-64_OU01_AA240_SH20_%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I was ecstatic when I found out that my main man, David <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Sedaris</span>, had a new book out. To be perfectly honest, I finished this 2 days after I got it. So that was about 3 or 4 weeks ago.<br />And he did not disappoint me. I know that he has hit his mark when I have to put the book down and just laugh.<br /><br />Last night, I got to thinking (for some strange reason) about writers. In particularly sitcom and movie writers, as well as, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Sedaris">David <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Sedaris</span></a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Garrison_Keillor">Garrison Keillor</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mo_Willems">Mo Willems</a> and our very own <a href="http://othejoys.blogspot.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">OTJ</span></a>, and <a href="http://kevincharnas.com/">Kevin <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Charnas</span></a>. As well as personal favorites <a href="http://maigh.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Maigh</span></a> and <a href="http://byflutter.com/">Flutter</a>.<br /><br />See they have something that I will never possess.<br />The ability to write, a wicked sense of humor and the ability to find great humor in the mundane.<br />Nothing slays me more than a person who can demonstrate wit, cheek, and humor with a single and oft time simply constructed sentence.<br />And when I use the word "simply" I mean it in the sense that they use ordinary words.<br />They don't have to flash a $10,000 vocabulary. They don't have to bedazzle you with verbosity.<br />They just say it and<br />it's damned funny and thought provoking. Sometimes even emotional.<br /><br />When I think about characters in fiction or those on TV, I found that I have a recurring attraction to those that are precocious. Being a person who is not all that witty and only sporadically funny, I feel drawn to someone who oozes those attributes so freely. As though through this person I can relate to the sense of humor and the thoughts that get trapped somewhere between my brain and my mouth.<br /><br />I fantasize about a smoke-filled, over-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">caffeinated</span> writer's room.<br />And imagine myself swirling about with my arms stretched wide open, being completely in awe at the wicked smart one-liners that fly about.<br />Or the banter and mundane events that inspire one another to construct dialogue that will later amuse millions.<br /><br />I wonder about the process. If a writer walks into the writer's room and innocently shares a story - something that could only happen to <em>them</em> and it becomes fodder.<br />I wonder about the lives and the real-life characters and happenings that later become my amusement.<br />A line from a movie such as: "I've always been considered an asshole for as long as I can remember. It's just my style." - Royal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Tenenbaum</span>, how does that take shape? What was the inspiration? How do you sit down and come up with something so simple and funny?<br /><br />The point is: I adore it.<br />I wish I had it.<br />And I don't. But that's OK.<br />I'm just glad that there are people out there that do.Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-12103514705882106862008-07-06T06:45:00.000-07:002008-07-06T06:49:12.996-07:00Sunday Morning Song of the MomentI love me some Ray LaMontagne.<br />His voice goes straight through me and bewitches every cell, every pore.<br />I've said before that if I could sing (and if I were a man), I wish that I could sing like him.<br />Granted, this version isn't great. The album version is sublime.<br /><br />This song between the artist, what the song is about, and those blessed horns is just the right concoction for a gal like me. <br />It's a mixture of my favorite things.<br />I crank this when I'm alone in the car and hit repeat.<br /><br />Enjoy. He's my man. <br />But I'll let you borrow him for awhile ;)<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EcLUIU2-uv8&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EcLUIU2-uv8&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-53184978853969937082008-07-03T06:05:00.000-07:002008-07-03T06:31:10.338-07:00Fathers and DaughtersYou all have <a href="http://stretchedtothelimit.blogspot.com/2007/03/beginnings.html">sat</a> <a href="http://stretchedtothelimit.blogspot.com/2007/03/beginning-of-end.html">through</a> <a href="http://stretchedtothelimit.blogspot.com/2008/01/things-they-leave-behind-2.html">countless</a> <a href="http://stretchedtothelimit.blogspot.com/2007/11/dreams-and-wishes-from-past.html">posts </a>about time spent with Three Dog Night Dad<br />when I was a little girl and how those times were the happiest of my childhood.<br /><br />Well since becoming involved in a mature, adult relationship<br />and transitioning into mommyhood<br />my dad and I have rarely spent time alone together.<br />We'd say with best of intentions that we needed to do it.<br />And well, you know how that goes.<br />All Cats and the Cradle and all.<br /><br />This past weekend provided that opportunity<br />what with my younglings and man away in Massachusetts for a long weekend.<br />I packed myself a bag and a beach chair<br />and met my dad <a href="http://www.lewes.com/">down at his beach cottage</a>.<br /><br />We sat together drinking a few cold ones and chatting.<br />And then we went out for a quality dinner together.<br />Upon entering the establishment we received a few sideways looks.<br />But I figured it's <a href="http://millsboro.org/">small-town </a>Delaware, they probably don't appreciate a guy with long hair here.<br />And I shrugged it off.<br /><br />Later on, after introducing my dad to some audio versions of David Sedaris, and a few rib-cracking laughs later, we were out walking around near a dock.<br />Again, we're just talking.<br />We look over to our left and there's a rowdy, good-natured group of locals who are red faced<br />and uber-smiling. <br /><em>Good for them.</em> I think to myself.<br />Then we hear:<br /><em>Hey! Hey! Hey, lady! </em><br />I turn my head and say <em>Yeah?</em><br />She replies with:<br /><em>I dig your old man's beard!!</em><br />My dad and I smile and laugh.<br />We look at each other and my dad replies with<br /><em>Uh. She's my daughter.</em><br />The lady's face becomes an even more pronounced shade of scarlett and apologizes.<br />I think that's when it hit me.<br />How often do you see an adult woman spending time alone with her dad?<br /><br />I was OK with this. <br />I have no problems spending time with my dad.<br />But I think once girls hit a certain age, you just rarely see it.<br />Maybe I'm wrong or maybe my little state just isn't that progressive yet.<br />It just hit me as kind of sad.Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-70836228527595380282008-07-02T09:40:00.000-07:002008-07-02T09:41:40.432-07:00May The Farm Be With YouSomeone sent this to me today & it's just too good.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hVrIyEu6h_E&hl=en"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hVrIyEu6h_E&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-36199081296226585632008-06-30T06:43:00.000-07:002008-06-30T06:52:26.702-07:00Dirt Between Our Toes & Nobody KnowsI'm sure with inconsistent posts and barely getting by to read any of yours<br />I barely have a readership.<br />It is what it is. <br />You get what you put into things.<br /><br />And lately my focus has been on reconnecting with kids I barely saw over the fall and winter.<br />Painting the boudoir of a young couple who has been married for 5 years, had 2 kids, and one messy, stark white, room (that would be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Rav</span> & I).<br /><br />We've been outside.<br />Hiking, playing, getting dirty.<br />Sometimes dinner has only consisted of an ice cream cone.<br />It's been a few, sweet weeks of simple luxuries.<br />Like ice cream for dinner.<br />Vegetables?<br />Oh, we had those last week.<br />Fruit?<br />The week before last.<br />I kid about that.<br />My kids are eating fine.<br /><br />A day or two goes by and I realize that we're dirty.<br />Dirty from play and grass and sweat.<br />But it's good.<br />Cleansing even.<br /><br />I've hitched up the bike trailer to my bike<br />and the kids and I have headed out with a packed lunch<br />to our local park.<br /><br />We've hit fairs, ridden rides, and spent more time together in the past few weeks than<br />we have in what seems to be the last few years.<br /><br />We spent the night at the beach with Three Dog Night Dad and Eileen.<br />We've put our toes in The Atlantic and been covered in sand.<br /><br />Last night the kids and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Rav</span> arrived home after spending 4 days in Massachusetts<br />sans Mommy.<br /><br />All the while, we see Connor falling back into old, familiar, anxiety-ridden territory.<br />And we're tired.<br />Our family is busting out of this house and desperately wants to spread its wings.<br />We don't know where or how we'll get there.<br />Change isn't even on the horizon.<br />We just feel the itch.Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-72483145024852001092008-06-11T13:27:00.000-07:002008-06-11T13:31:36.061-07:00My Latest ObsessionI know I've been sparce.<br />Beautiful weather has been beckoning the famiglia de Ravioli outside.<br />And I'm weak.<br />I'm a sucker for warm, sunny days.<br />And the smell of Water Babies sunblock on my kids' rounded arms.<br />All while I hold a sweaty glass bottle in my hand and throw my head back to wash the<br />cold adult beverage down my dry throat.<br />This song goes well with all of that.<br /><br /><em>Cape Cod Kwasaa Kwasaa</em> by Vampire Weekend<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uumPG6Shr8M&hl=en"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uumPG6Shr8M&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-7327005198604176302008-05-28T16:00:00.000-07:002008-05-28T16:18:02.692-07:00How Long, Not LongThis weekend found us staying close to home.<br />We had made some plans to do some party hopping.<br />But the universe had other plans for us.<br />More in particularly - me.<br /><br />I couldn't venture far away from the cold, hard comfort<br />of a certain...commode.<br />I'll leave it at that.<br />Just as well.<br />I could certainly use the money rather than dump into our huge, ginormous gas tank, which in turn dumps the remains into the air and in turn also makes greedy men fatter.<br /><br />Which turns me to the point of this post.<br /><br />Most of my time was spent in the bathroom - like you need to hear this, I know.<br />I'm just keepin' it real.<br />And an article on the front page of our paper highlighted how "survivalists" are turning inward, growing their own crops, and arming themselves for the insurrection to come.<br />I'll admit, that our paper isn't a great one.<br />But it's what we have and so I read it - from time to time - mainly when I want a good chuckle.<br />However, this article captivated me.<br />As I began to read it, I began to panic.<br />These "survivalists" as they are being called are buying "homesteads" and learning to grow all of their own food, plant fruit trees, depend less on oil (none of this sounds <em>bad</em>), and making sure they are armed to fend off mobs of hungry, homeless, starving people that will be moving in masses to find food.<br /><br />I know how bad things are. Or at least, I think I know.<br />But it got me thinking about the countless Americans out there,<br />shuffling through their day to day.<br />Life as usual.<br />Despite the state that we are in.<br />Scenes and dialogue from <em>The Grapes of Wrath</em> began to pop into my head.<br />Where everyone is bewildered, naive, and in denial about the state of how things truly are.<br /><br />And I wonder if we - as a nation - are there.<br />People are losing houses.<br />They are packing up and moving...<br />Where?<br />And they get handed a government check.<br />"See now. Doesn't that make it all better?"<br />It reminds me of the countless flyers passed around in the book.<br />A promise of better things to come.<br /><br />Then I wonder if the article did exactly what it was intended to do.<br />Scare me.<br />Manipulate me.<br />At the very least though, it got me thinking.<br /><br />I do know this though.<br />Things are probably a hell of a lot worse than we think or think we know.Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-69397709287792960982008-05-20T13:49:00.000-07:002008-05-20T14:03:37.825-07:00Sunday Morning Song of the Moment - Tuesday EditionLast summer, we visited some of Rav's relatives who reside outside of Baltimore - around the Towson-ish area. His cousin works at <a href="http://www.merriweathermusic.com/">The Merriweather</a>. <br />My eyes widened and we began to talk about some of the better shows he had seen up to that point in the concert season and what he enjoys listening to. <br />What an occupational hazard - seeing so many concerts. For free.<br />Anyway, he told me that Wilco's show just a few days before was outstanding and played the CD for us while we ate crabs and threw back some cold ones. <br /><br />When I pop in my Wilco CD I instantly think of that day. On a porch somewhere in Maryland. I can see Rav's cousin's face looking at me - soaking in the music. And I knew exactly how he felt. I can remember the way the air smelled and how at ease I was in that very moment to be talking to him about music and watching him enjoy it. That is the only time I really feel at ease - feel like myself - my complete, whole self. When listening to music.<br /><br />Anyway, I've been listening to this CD since last summer and this song really hit me hard the other day. It's like after all of this time I heard it for the first time and it finally made sense. Almost like when you're learning a new language and you can finally read and comprehend something on your own. Much to your surprise and delight.<br /><br />So, go. Enjoy this song and sorry about the long-winded explanation. <br /><em>Sky Blue Sky</em> by Wilco<br /><br /><br /><object height="355" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-Lv5J68U-ho&hl=en"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-Lv5J68U-ho&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-50186213132233185952008-05-11T15:36:00.001-07:002008-05-11T15:50:09.484-07:00Happy Mother's Day by RavIt is a little late, but I would like to say Happy Mother's Day to all out there to whom it applies. Today, we, the Raviolis, spent the day much like any other sunday. Our grand plan to go out to breakfast was smashed, as many of our plans are, by the greedy bill collector. Add to that the fact that, like most of America, we are slowly drowning. It has been hard on Tab and I, keeping this ship afloat. At times, it seemed as if it was more than we could take. And everytime we seem to get to a place where things are better, the world turns upside down again. No matter what happens though, I find that the struggle makes us stronger and our love grows. Even when it seems as if universe wants to tear us asunder, we manage to fight through. Happy Mother's Day Tabba. I love you. "When the storm comes, you shelter me..."<br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LYkljoL7PYA&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LYkljoL7PYA&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-698080974201657962008-05-07T11:45:00.000-07:002008-05-07T11:47:15.133-07:00I Haven't Been Sick All Winter...And then May comes with 70+ degree weather.<br />The sun is shining.<br />It's beautiful.<br /><br />And I'm sick as a dog.<br /><br />Whatever.<br /><br />Hurry up....browse away from here before you catch it!Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-48366838908396904772008-05-04T05:44:00.000-07:002008-05-04T05:50:43.263-07:00Sunday Morning Song of the MomentSitting around this winter, spending way too much time in front of the tele, I became obsessed with a little snippet of a song I heard on the new commercial for the slimmed-down version of Apple's iBook.<br />I would wait by the TV and hope that the commercial would come on just so I could hear 30 seconds of the song.<br />I didn't know what it was, I didn't know who sang it. I just knew I loved it.<br />I thought to myself, "That song makes me want to rush out and buy an iBook." Those smart people at Apple. Needless to say, I didn't buy an iBook. However, one lonely evening with my kids in bed early, Rav hard at work, I diligently sat down to my dial-up connection and began my quest.<br />After much groaning which was had by myself and my computer, I found that song.<br />I promptly downloaded it & have been happily listening to it since.<br />This morning, I found it on Youtube and got goosebumps after watching the video for the first time.<br />So now that I have built this song up to impossible expectations, I will share it with you.<br />Many of you probably have heard it already. Especially if you watched a lot of TV over the long, cold winter.<br />But here she goes anyway....<br /><br /><em>New Soul</em> by Yael Naim<br /><br /><br /><br /><object height="355" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-YUxbDEPFiM&hl=en"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-YUxbDEPFiM&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><em></em><em></em><em></em>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-65336945647891979422008-05-03T05:03:00.000-07:002008-05-04T05:44:32.875-07:00Extreme Makeover - Blog EditionFor the past few months, I've been wanting to change the look around here.<br />But I figured I'd let it go until I could actually load a page on something higher than a 24k dial-up connection.<br /><br />I get bored easily.<br />I like to change and evolve.<br />My immediate surroundings have a major impact on my moods and feelings.<br />And I'm so over the color-scheme and look of this here blog.<br /><br />So, I put it to you....<br />Have any ideas for a color scheme?<br />How about a picture idea for the header or whatever its called?<br />Oh, and "Mrs. Incredible" has to go....should it just be TABBA?<br /><br />Please...let the ideas fly.<br />I think if we all put our creative .02 in the pot we might be able to come up with something on the cusp of fantabulous.<br /><br /><em>Edited:</em><br /><em>this is what i have come up with so far. if you have any suggestions or constructive criticism, please feel free...</em>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-25413024155174831542008-04-30T17:02:00.000-07:002008-04-30T17:18:41.667-07:00Out Of The Ashes<span style="font-family:lucida grande;">I like to play coy and say that in the past few months of my absence nothing has happened.</span><br />Well, nothing that merits you taking a few minutes out of your busy day to read, anyway.<br /><br />I got to the point where I would sit in front of the screen and think to myself, "What is the point? Hasn't it all been said and done before? What could I possibly say that is so unique? I've told all of the stories that there are to tell."<br />That hit me really hard.<br />The possibility of an actual depth to my soul that I thought I possessed was nothing than barely a shallow pool of a personality and life experience.<br /><br />Life ran away with me on its back and all I could do was hang on. Let the school work take its toll, daily survival played its mundane tune, and I went to bed with the weight of good intentions laying in my chest.<br /><br />So many times during the days and weeks my mind would drift to you.<br />Thinking, wondering, missing.<br />And hoping.<br />Certain lines that you have written or comments would pop into my head and I would smile.<br /><br />Blogging, writing, commenting left a big void.<br /><br />But while nothing much was going on - domestically speaking - I have been transforming.<br />I needed to unplug.<br />I am still morphing, I'm sure that the journey is not complete.<br />And one day, may I will be able to tell you of white light, and sweat lodges, incense, stones, cats, meditations, and visions.<br />Some of it will sound crazy, I'm sure.<br />And that is OK.<br />I am certainly not hear to convince anyone of anything.<br />I will share them as an attempt to sort out this spiritual awakening I have had, to look back on it and watch the pieces fall into place.Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-23325740602847954502008-04-29T12:06:00.001-07:002008-04-29T12:09:12.238-07:00What NowI sit here and look at blogger pages and think to myself, "How do I...?", "What do I....?"<br /><br />I scratch my head, not sure what the proper protocol is.<br /><br />I'm back in the saddle - electronically speaking - and yet I still don't know what to do.<br />As of last night I had 611 new items in my Reader. How do I even begin reading all of that? Do I post first, read first, then post? I don't know what to do after such a long absence. I'm making my rounds - trying to catch up. When I'm over your way, I'll probably say 'HI'. Not on every post, but some. <br /><br />So let me know dear lovelies, how do I even begin this thing again?Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942236.post-44630969276875375112008-04-27T06:49:00.000-07:002008-04-27T06:50:51.296-07:00Sunday Morning Song of the Moment<p><object height="355" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nDsNLnsg6lo&hl=en"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nDsNLnsg6lo&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object></p><p> </p><p>This about sums up it. </p><p>School is done for the year.</p><p>And we have our DSL back up and running.</p>Tabbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07571583646468537273noreply@blogger.com2