"Marry, F***, or Kill" in Theaters Now

On Sunday, my in-laws went to a matinee performance of "Marry, F***, or Kill", an off-broadway play written and directed by the young, hot daughter of some close family friends. I've seen the play and, in all honesty, surprised myself by being seriously uncomfortable with them sharing the experience. They went, in spite of my warnings, and came home obviously disappointed, complaining that I'm a prude. My mother-in-law said that my father-in-law was particularly disappointed. 

Immigrant Proverbs on Modern Family

The Halloween episode of Modern Family aired this week. Part of the story was about the way Gloria speaks. They all make fun of her immigrant proverbs. I loved it.

Nonno Told on Me

Last Sunday evening, my father-in-law reprimanded me as harshly as he ever has, which is about as harsh as a loofah, because another parent coached my daughter's soccer team for me that day. My excuse was that my daughter couldn't play. The surgeon who repaired her two hernias the week before told us that she should sit out of sports for two weeks. 


With his normal friendly smile on his face, my father-in-law asked me, "What kind of coach are you? Your kid can't play and you don't show up?" 


I said, "Another father offered to coach knowing the situation with the surgery.... And (feeling suddenly super guilty).....  they're only six years old." 


My sister-in-law was laying on the couch next to us.  She said to me, "Why didn't you just lie to him?"


My parents are visiting from California this week for my daughter's birthday. At soccer this Sunday, my father-in-law told my Dad that I ditched my coaching responsibilities because my own child couldn't play, blatantly telling on me. 

The Voyage: Paris and the Louvre

Enjoying France during their grand summer voyage this summer, my father-in-law sent me three pictures of my mother-in-law studying paintings in the Louvre. Italian painters only.

The Voyage: Enough Underwears

When my father-in-law travels, he brings along one pair of underwear for each day of the trip. Their voyage this summer was 47 days.

The Voyage: Go Jump In the River!

Each professional soccer team in Italy has a dedicated souvenir shop somewhere within its home city. For a true fan, known as a tifoso, the store is the happiest place on earth, second only to the team's home stadium. For my father-in-law, back in Rome for the first time in 20 years, and quite possibly the last time in his life, his pilgrimage to his team's store was of the utmost importance. 


A policeman directed him to follow the river out of the city until he finds a staircase that leads to the river. My father-in-law found out later that he had been steps away from the store. His own cousin had set him up. The policeman was the president of the fan club for the rival team.

Post Irene Sunday

I woke up from a turbulent sleep of Hurricane Irene nightmares to a quiet somewhat brighter sky. Everyone was safe. There was no broken glass or ruined belongings. My husband tried to leave for his usual weekend morning "I can't just sit around all day" drive, but when I reminded him that we had been directed to wait for all clear from the authorities, to my surprise, he stayed home. I made a big breakfast and my in-laws came downstairs to join us. During breakfast, my father-in-law gave me a mind blowing compliment. He said it was a "beautiful breakfast, better than Bayside Diner." 


After breakfast as we settled in the family room to watch Tottingham vs. Manchester City on the main TV and a slideshow of pictures from my in-law's grand summer voyage on a second TV, a phone call came from next door. Zia had locked herself in her bedroom the previous night afriad of the hurricane and was having trouble getting the door open again. When they finally got her out, they saw that she was wearing all of her gold jewelry. She was ready for an emergency evacuation except that she couldn't get out. 

Hurricane Irene: Poor Zia

My sister-in-law told Zia that the roof might blow off of her house tonight so she spent the day in her closet putting all of her documenti importanti in ziplock bags. Hours later, having apparently finished that task, she decided to move all of her favorite outfits into the basement for safety as well. I sincerely hope the basement doesn't flood.  

Hurricane Irene: Nonno's Preparations

My father-in-law would do anything for me, but not too much for his house. It's similar to the way I am with money. Maybe he buried something from years ago and simply cannot/will not do any home improvements. I've been emailing him pictures of the flooding in the basement all year every time it rains. He never cared. At all. And today with the onset of the hurricane, he again avoided any obligation and/or instinct to try to do something to avoid flooding.   

Hurricane Irene: Bunkered Down

Irene might have her way with the two houses of the Compound. There is a real possibility that the roof might at least partially tear off of Zia's house next door, and the windows of our bedroom here at my in-law's house, already cracked, might not hold up. So tonight my husband and I, and our kids, will sleep crammed into the middle bedroom in a bunk bed and crib, and if something does happen to Zia's roof, we'll have five more housemates starting tomorrow.

The Voyage: Dr. Ruth was on their Ship

They definitely enjoyed each others company on their transatlantic cruise.

Immigrant Proverb #6 - Babysitter at my Disposal

Within hours after arriving home from his epic summer vacation, my beloved father-in-law offered up his services as a babysitter. He said, "I am at your disposition." 

Mozzarella Coma

I'm drunk on fresh, still warm, mozzarella from Massimo and Sergio's deli on 150th Street. Like Frank the Tank in ecstasy at the keg, "Once it hits your lips, it's so good!"

Peanut Allergy Alert Bracelet

Our toddler son is severely allergic to his peanut allergy alert bracelet.

The Voyage: The Travel Diary

My mother-in-law is withholding her travel diary of their epic summer voyage until she checks it for spelling errors and potentially embarrassing stories. She was mad that we laughed at her spelling of helicopter as elicopter.  

No More Whole Grains

My mother-in-law is waging a losing insurgency to get my father-in-law to eat whole grains. He said to her at lunch today, "Non fare più così. È disgustoso!" This spurred my giggling kids to steal all the boxes of whole grain pasta from the pantry and hide them next door at Zia's house.

After the Voyage: Getting Back to Normal

Things are getting back to normal here in the Compound. My in-laws are back from their 47 day European vacation. 


This morning as I was cleaning up breakfast in the kitchen, I heard my father-in-law singing opera to my daughter in the other room. He was singing a lovely chorus of, "I am right, and you are wrong."  


A bit later, my father-in-law and my two year old son were playing what sounded like a fun game. Trying not to alarm either of them, I stepped in quickly. The blanket that my son was covering my father-in-law with to "tuck him in" was the same blanket that I had just put in the laundry pile after changing a diaper. There really was a significant amount of shit on it.

The Voyage: Nonna's Travel Journal

My in-laws are back from their summer voyage and the good news is that there is a diary.

A Plant Grows in Queens

The true grit of this tomato plant growing at the base of a drainpipe inside the Compound stirs my heart.

Our Cleanse

My sister-in-law and I are halfway through the Clean Program, Dr. Alejandro Junger's 21-day cleanse. This is a huge accomplishment for us. Yesterday we were in a cousin's backyard on the next block for a barbecue, watching the Women's World Cup team choke and the topic of the cleanse came up. As the food was served, it was obvious to his cousins that we were eating like weirdos. One of my husband's aunts asked what diet we are on. After my best explanation she said without hesitation, "Don't eat for 2 days. That will clean you out." 

The Voyage: England to France

After much anticipation, the first picture I received from my father-in-law's iPhone was of my mother-in-law looking wet and cold standing in front of Stonehenge. 


The next day he sent a picture of her standing on a bench looking wet and cold outside of Windsor Castle. There was a couple snuggling on the bench behind her little legs. 


The next day came a picture of my mother-in-law slurping hot soup somewhere. 


Then came two almost identical pictures of my father-in-law with a huge smile on his face standing at attention next to a stone faced royal guard. Understandably, he must have requested she take a second picture as a backup since this was the first picture he considered a must-have of himself. 


Then came a few pictures from around London and then a dark picture of most of the Eiffel Tower. 

My Summer Vacation

My summer vacation, otherwise known as "husband's to-do list staycation". 

The Voyage: 6 People + 6 Suitcases = European rental car disaster

The picture that I am desperate for my father-in-law to send is of the six of them squeezed into their Euro-sized rental car, everyone with their American-sized luggage on their lap.

The Voyage: Contact from England

The first picture he sent was almost two weeks into the voyage. I was starting to think he was playing it safe with the data plan fees and I was out of luck but my prayers were answered and all of us back at the Compound started to get text messages and even a couple of phone calls. 

The Voyage: Thank God for the iPhone

I begged my father-in-law to send me pictures and updates every day as they chug along on their epic voyage by sea and land from New York City to Nizza di Sicilia and back, and miraculously, he's doing it. He was extremely nervous about using his phone the wrong way overseas and racking up a monstrous cell phone bill but now I'm receiving daily text messages from him so apparently he believes he's safe. 

Zia Has My Back

This summer we are having late nights. Last week my husband arrived home with the kids from a cousin's house down the block with Zia in tow as the lightning bugs were getting fired up. We assembled in the kitchen because the kids had not been fed. I was struggling to figure out a quick dinner that everyone would eat, when our five year old son yelled across the table at me, "Mommy - Cook corn! - that's alliteration!" I was in awe. But my happy Mommy moment was confused for a second because Zia immediately started yelling, "Luca! Abbiate pazienza! La tua Mamma sta facendo dieci cose, il mio uccellino!" which I realized after my standard translation delay meant something like, "Luca, be patient! Your mom is doing ten things at once, my little bird!"  

Wisenheimer

The latest quip from the wise-ass minister at the little Lutheran church down the block. 

Adoption

My father-in-law believes strongly in adoption. He says that if you are the last person at the soccer field you can collect all the "orphan" balls that are left behind.


But then a week later he said to me, "I really hope you didn't take those balls back to the field today." 

Locked Out

About a month after we moved in, my father-in-law began locking the door to his bedroom. Can't blame him. His grandchildren barge in at all hours often at his son's suggestion and he hates to sleep in pajamas. The side-effect is that my mother-in-law gets locked out of her own bedroom, a lot.  

The Voyage: Feeling Left Behind

In truth, we rarely see my in-laws though we are living under their roof, and on Friday when they depart on a two-month long ultra-marathon vacation we are going to lose them sadly for most of the summer. We tried to pull a trip together to meet them in Italy for a couple weeks, but the flights were too expensive. Very disappointing.


The first part of their voyage is a trans-Atlantic cruise, followed by a winding Eurorail adventure all the way to Sicily. They will be accompanied for most of the trip by their best friends, a great couple, and at other times by my brother-in-law's parents who are British. Once they reach my mother-in-law's home town in Sicily, their best friends are predictably ditching them and flying home. At which point, they will turn around and head north back through Europe to catch their ship home, crossing the Atlantic a second time. 


Not only would it be absolutely ridiculous to watch them interact with strangers all over Europe, but it would undoubtedly be an endearing depiction of Italian-Americans for the world to see. 

Our Adorable Immigrant

Today my niece gave my daughter a present so special that I welled up. It was a ball-chain necklace (like the kind of chain that comes with dog tags) with 2 charms, a beautiful little white soccer ball charm with black hearts instead of black pentagons and a tiny little silver charm in the shape of a soccer jersey with the inscription "BFF" meaning best friends forever, of course. Around the kitchen table tonight with a dozen or so of the family gathered, my mother-in-law told everyone about the beautiful charm that said, "E Effe Effe".  

Little Korean Neighbor

Three days ago my kids befriended a cute little Korean boy from down the block. They have been playing with him every possible second since then. He circles the street on his bike waiting for an invitation to come inside the gate of the Compound. When we got home from a soccer clinic today, his bike was lying outside the gate but we found him inside the house playing with hot wheels. 

Nonno's Soccer Practice

On the first nice evening of the year, glorious things happened in the little side yard on the corner of the Compound. Nonno's moves are not to be missed.  

Ricette per Vita

My mother-in-law and her sister, Zia, cook some dishes that still set the bar after 15 years as the most mind blowingly delicious things I have ever eaten.

Natural Treasures

You can take the girl out of Cali, but you can't take the Cali out of the girl.

Network Neighbors

You can tell a bit about your neighbors by the names of their wireless networks. Ours are GreenPanda, LuckyDolphin and HappyPurpleFlower.

The Difference Between Boys and Girls

Our four-year-old told us last week that boys have penises and girls have weenies.

Poverina Zia

The half bath in the back of Zia's house is known as the igloo bathroom. Our daughter named it when she was two because it is frigid in the wintertime. It's always a dilemma whether to freeze your ass off or go all the way upstairs. 


My parents came from California for our son's baptism a couple of years ago. We had a small breakfast party at Zia's house before going to the church. I warned my Mother about the igloo bathroom and told her to go upstairs to the other bathroom. When she got to the top of the stairs, she let out a weird little scream noise. Zia was not quite yet dressed for the party and the door to her bedroom had not yet been replaced from when my husband broke it down the time our son had locked himself in. Poor Zia.  

Nonno's Agenda

A couple of surprising events happened tonight at the Compound. First, my in-laws were home before the kids and I were asleep. Second, my father-in-law suggested an idea for my next blog post. Momentous, I thought, he's getting used to the idea.


I was immediately thrust in the middle of a discussion between my father-in-law and my mother-in-law. Turns out that my father-in-law is ok with my blog as a form of public arbitration. Over the course of the next two hours, my father-in-law said his piece and then my mother-in-law had her turn. It was an über-complex crisscross of careful passive aggression, drawing references from a span of years. I am always amazed when they have an issue with each other because in truth, I rarely recognize one of their fights as a fight. They fight peacefully. 


I felt like they wanted my help, but I didn't dare. I just enjoyed them both near me.  

Caro Jesu Bambino

My husband and I got home from an unexpected date night to find my mother-in-law alone in her pajamas sitting at the kitchen table scribbling something on a piece of paper. This isn't unusual except for the pajamas. 


My husband greeted her by saying, "Hello Mother." She replied, "Hello Son." Then my husband said, "Those are the ugliest pajamas I have ever seen." I defended her saying, "They aren't that bad, Mammina." She gave me a smirk as I walked by to put my doggy bag away in the fridge. I tried to look over her shoulder but she blocked my view. She said she wasn't sure if it was a surprise. Apparently, my daughter had requested that my mother-in-law write down all of the words to the Italian lullaby "Caro Jesu". I've heard the song a hundred times, sung the first 20 or so times by my mother-in-law, then the next 80 or so by the two of them together. I convinced her to explain the words to me. 


In the sweet song, a young child is praying to baby Jesus. The child says that his father is a poor man and is not able to buy him a toy. The child prays for baby Jesus to come down from heaven to play with him.  

Football's Next Star: A Critique

A commercial for a new reality show on Fox Soccer Channel caught my attention while I was watching Italian soccer on Sunday with my father-in-law. The show is called "Football's Next Star." Leave it to the British to attempt to apply Reality TV to soccer. I was thrilled and made a point to watch. 


The show brought a bunch of young British footballers to Italy to battle for a spot on the prestigious Italian professional team Inter Milan. Before the first episode was over, it was obvious that the young brits were going to fail to appreciate or assimilate into Italian culture. Poorly designed reality TV. 

Stolen Car

My father-in-law picked us up at Kennedy Airport in our car when we arrived home in New York following our trip to Southern California to visit my parents, my brothers, sister, cousins, and their families. 


In the car on the way home from the airport, my father-in-law told us that he couldn't find our car when he went to look for it to come get us. He couldn't even remember the last time he drove it. He looked on 189th Street, and then he looked around the corner. He found the keys on the mantel where he left them, but the car itself was no where to be found. He asked his wife. He asked his daughter. Neither knew where it was. He started to seriously consider calling the cops. 


My sister-in-law's husband knew he would be looking for the car to pick us up so he moved the car to the end of the next block and returned the keys to their usual spot on the mantel. My father-in-law ended his retelling of the story with the comment, "British sense of humor."

Immigrant Proverb #5 - Unanimous

Back at Kennedy airport after our long flight home from Southern California, I trade in my sandals for boots.  My boots are soft warm and snuggly so it's ok. My father-in-law meets us at the curb outside the terminal and we pile into the car. My husband gets in the driver's seat. Driving on the Van Wyck Expressway north before the Long Island Expressway, my father-in-law calls his wife to tell her to put the pasta in. That is the signal that we are ten minutes away from the house. Relaying a question from his wife, he asks the kids what kind of pasta they want. They all yell that they want the "big" pasta. He says to his wife on the phone, "It's anonymous!" 

Deja Vu

Up on Facebook tonight was this picture of one of my husband's younger cousins with the caption, "The Silverado Blow Dryer. Light, powerful, professional. THAT'S how you sell a blower." Photo shoots with blow dryers must feel so natural to him. (See photo circa 1983 - Lower left hand corner)

Infinite Gratitude

I'm upstairs in bed waking up from a glorious luxurious heavenly Saturday afternoon nap. The kids are downstairs trying to get out the door with my in-laws who are bravely taking four of their five grandchildren out for dinner. Our four-year-old is screaming. He's upset because my husband is trying to get him to go to the bathroom before he gets in the car. My angelic mother-in-law is yelling at our two-year-old, "Oh my God! Look what you did!" 


I can't thank them enough. 

Linguini alle Vongole

Given the choice of anything on the menu at an Italian restaurant, our six-year-old always orders Linguini alle Vongole which means linguini with sautéed clams. The self-congratulatory pats on the back that I used to give myself for cultivating her young palate turned to slaps on the face when she started throwing colossal tantrums if they didn't have it.

Female Role in Italian Culture

I no longer obsess about the whole "women are slaves to men" foothold in the Italian culture. My father-in-law drops everything to help me every time I even hint at asking. 

St. Vincent's Day

Vincenza is the Italian lady who helps me keep my house clean and my mind sane. She helps all of my husband's aunts as well. That's how I found her. She is the reason that my Italian has finally improved to a mediocre fluency. This winter she had to go back to Milan indefinitely to take care of her youngest son who broke his hip in a motorcycle accident. I visited her brother-in-law's restaurant in the city just to find out news of her. 


Today she reminded me that it was her "Saint's Day", Saint Vincent's Day. Italian's celebrate their birthday as well as their Saint's Day. Much to the disappointment of my in-laws, we gave our daughter a random American name. It won't be long until she realizes she's missing out on a second "celebrate me" day every year.

Football's Next Star: A New Reality TV Show

My father-in-law is obsessed with soccer. I am too, but not even close to the same level. I can't compete. His home town team is in the highest division of professional soccer in Italy, the Serie A. My home town team belongs to the MLS, the lowest form of professional soccer on the planet, and wasn't even created until after I left that home town for college. Almost everyone he knows plays and/or loves soccer. I ended up a soccer player because I was a girl and couldn't play football.


I asked my father-in-law a couple of questions on Sunday as we were watching a great match between two of the best teams in Italy's Serie A, Roma vs. Juventus. I wanted to learn more about Italian soccer. He said after today there are six games left in their 36 game season. The top six teams each season get to play for the European Championship. The game we were watching was an important matchup because Roma is in sixth place and Juventus is in seventh place. 


At halftime of the soccer game, I saw the commercial for the new reality TV show called, "Football's Next Star". I had seen this commercial once before. I was encouraged by the fact that the show does say "football" and not "soccer" and it appears to be filmed in England.  We'll see.   

Sunday Routines

My Dad lounges on the couch on Sundays, watching golf and dozing. He drinks a large Coke without the lid to allow unfettered access to the ice and he eats a large cheeseburger and fries from the local burger joint. 

My father-in-law lounges on the couch on Sundays, watching soccer and dozing. He drinks orange juice from a wine glass and eats a big mozzarella sandwich from the kitchen.  

The Joke is on Mommy

You win some. You lose some.

April Fool's Day

This neighborhood used to have a large number of Irish and Italian immigrants. These days, Northern Blvd is an extension of Koreatown, originating at Main Street in downtown Flushing. Increasingly prosperous Chinese and Korean buyers are dominating the housing market. 


Last year on April 1st, my sister-in-law's husband drove a "For Sale by Owner" sign into the grass in the front yard of my in-law's house. When my father-in-law got home from work he took it down, but the front door was already framed on every edge with tucked in realtor's cards. The old answering machine was already filled with messages and there was a steady stream of interested buyers, like trick or treaters, at the front door for days. 

True Innocence

I found out today that my mother-in-law doesn't know what "STD" means. 

The ADD Club

We were sitting around the kitchen table today discussing the recent trouble that went on at my husband's Final Club at Harvard. My mother-in-law called it the ADD Club, a fitting name entirely.

Easter Mornings

My childhood Easters were spent in a sun drenched Southern California backyard. My five cousins, all boys, my two brothers, my twin sister and I played Easter candy guessing games for prizes and my sister and I did cartwheels and hand stands on the thick green grass. 


My first Easter at the Compound was a chaotic morning of rummaging, bossing, thieving, and primping by all ages and sexes. It was the first time I saw a man blow dry his hair. After everyone settled on what they were going to wear, we left the little house smelling like hair spray. We walked four blocks to Church bracing against the cold wind and arrived about halfway through the homily. 


As we made our way down the center aisle of the church people were smiling at us, some waving subtly. My future husband, my future in-laws, my future sisters-in-law, my future brother-in-law and I genuflected one at a time before filing into a pew. 


After Church we said proper "hellos" to each of the smiley faces, most of them family and so many friends, with double kisses and quick introductions for me. Invitations were extended by all. Some of the cousins were walking home in the same direction and some in the opposite direction.


When we got back from Church, the kids climbed into the family's Chrysler mini-van leaving the parents at home. Sitting shotgun with my future husband driving and all the "kids" in the back, his sister picked up on the sappy "visualizing a possible happy future together" moment we were having and said in a monotone flat voice, "faggoty old couple." The butterflies hiding in my stomach unleashed.  


The next few hours were spent driving to visit relatives and friends, walking inside, kissing everyone there, eating something fantastic, sipping a frothy dark espresso, kissing everyone again on the way out, and piling back into the mini-van. We went all over Queens. 

Scary Noises from Upstairs

Home for the summer from nursing school, my youngest sister-in-law returned to the house with one of her friends after a night out on Bell Blvd. The house was dark and quiet, which almost never happens. She said that she and her friend heard "scary noises" coming from upstairs so they hid in a very small and very full coat closet by the back door and called the cops. The cops arrived and checked out the house. They found my in-laws upstairs in their bedroom with the door locked. 

Her Name Is Beauty

I met the most beautiful girl at my brother-in-law's wedding. When she said that her name was Beauty, I swallowed my breath in surprise. 

Three Silver Bullets

My husband is not an impulsive shopper. When he was a kid, his Mom agreed to let him get a dog. He spent a year  researching breeds and local breeders before he purchased a yellow lab puppy. A great choice. Last year, after his usual lengthy period of deliberation, research, and comparison shopping we bought a new car, a silver Chevy Traverse. It suits our family perfectly and of course he did find a good deal on it. Weeks after we got our silver Chevy Traverse, his parents got a silver Chevy Traverse. Weeks after his parents got their silver Chevy Traverse, his sister and her husband who live next door, got a silver GMC Acadia, aka a silver Chevy Traverse. 

In Nome della Scienza

My six-year-old daughter shuffled up next to my bed last Friday night with a little vial in one hand and a black felt tip marker in the other. She asked me to write on the little sticker label for her. She said she was interested to look at this under her microscope. She dictated the label to read, "Bloody boogie." I might leave it on my mother-in-law's bedside table. 

First Time at the House

The first time I walked up the stoop in front of this house, a big yellow lab was frantically scratching the paint off of the inside of the door. A beautiful brunette child with a familiar smile opened the front door. The dog was jumping, desperate to get to us. The little girl, my husband's youngest sister, was 12 years old at the time. Her unabashed adoration for her big brother was a refreshing change from the drama and complications of my life at Harvard. 


We walked inside and the kisses started. Kisses, kisses, kisses and hugs. And noise. Voices. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, smiling, chatting, and laughing. Warm tantalizing aromas wafted from the kitchen at the back of the house. There was soccer on the TV, the commentators spewing out words like a professional auctioneer. 


We turned to the couch and my husband gingerly presented me to his mother's aged parents. After taking in the profound frailty of Nonno and then the quick spunk of Nonna I was escorted along again. I sat down at the table in the kitchen for the very first time. 


My husband's three younger siblings, a few teammates including some cousins, and their father were all wearing muddy soccer clothes, shinguards and soccer socks, having just arrived from their various soccer practices.


The little sister that greeted us at the front door, started mashing strawberries into her glass of orange juice, staring at me, talking straight at me while everyone else was talking in alternate trajectories. She was inviting me to sleep in her room. 


I was given a water in a cute little glass that was shaped like a boot. I raised the glass to my lips and a bubble from the toe of the boot slipped loose, splashing water up into my nose and eyes. Everyone burst out laughing. 


His little sister continued talking to me for the rest of the night. Terrified of hurting her feelings, I tried and tried and tried to stay awake until she was done talking but I did eventually pass out. 

He's Eaten Worse

Our youngest child loves to dip his food in his drink. It started last summer when he made an unfortunate habit of dipping his snacks, pretzels usually, into the water sitting in the water play table on the deck of our old house. A few months ago next door at Zia's house, my niece peed in her training potty. Our little guy walked by a minute later and dipped his half-grape in it and ate it.

One Eighty Ninest

My husband brought me home to Queens the first time for Easter. We were just friends. I was a senior in college almost ready to graduate. He was a freshman. Going all the way home to California for Easter wasn't an option for me so he took me in. 


We drove from Cambridge to Flushing. It was the first time I went over the Throgs Neck Bridge. I was enamored with the golden toll tokens and I marveled at the Manhattan skyline in the distance. 


We pulled up at the house in my red BMW 318i that I had usurped from my twin sister. Before we got out, a crazed yellow lab appeared at the window. He had a dog? I noticed the street sign on the corner.  Unable to make sense of it, I asked him, "What's one eighty ninest?" 

Message in Arabic

I received the following email this morning:

amiralcafe has left a new comment on your post "Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes": 

الحياة حلوى 2011 من تونس 

Posted by amiralcafe to Compound 189 at March 15, 2011 9:03 PM


I copied and pasted it into my Google translator. I selected Arabic from the drop down and was confused for a split second by the flashing cursor pasted against the right side of the text box. My heart quickened it's pace. I had a brief thought that maybe this might not be a flattering message. I'm an American woman writing an outspoken public blog. The translation appeared, "Sweet Life 2011 from Tunisia."

Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi

In preparation for my parents visit from California, I asked my Mom if there was anything she wanted me to get for her at the grocery store. She asked for caffeine-free diet pepsi. Now I'm addicted to it.

So Many Cousins

I have always felt a special connection to the wives of my husband's cousins. Because there are so many of them, someone is inevitably going through a similar stage in life or phase in childhood. When we were dating, there were cousins and girlfriends with whom to hang out with late into the night. When we were engaged, there were cousins and fiancés with whom to share wedding and honeymoon plans. When we were pregnant, there were others to compare doctor's instructions and bellies. And as the newborns arrived, we leaned on each other and shared our joys and challenges. In January, one of my husband's cousins and his brilliant and hot wife from Michigan took a cue from us and moved back into his parent's house with their four kids. 


Turns out that she shares my own inferiority complex. She said that cooking "takes a lot of confidence because everyone knows that my Mother-in-Law really is the family's best cook."A couple days ago she tweeted an imagined note to her mother-in-law, "Dear MIL - You left explicit instructions for me to cook the escarole. Happy to report... I did it!" She also tweeted last week, "Dear MIL- am I supposed to prepare a beautiful lunch and sit with the cleaning lady, like you do?"

My Bridal Shower

There were 300 ladies at my bridal shower. A dazed smile took hold of my face. A super wide-brimmed white floppy hat covered in bows took over my head. My Mom, my sister, and my college friends were in various states of shock over the whole thing, their dazed and delighted faces like my own.

Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes

2003 was a big year for us. We started out as ski bums in Lake Tahoe, Nevada. In the spring, we moved down to Newport Beach in Southern California. In the summer, we got married and had a short honeymoon in Santa Barbara, followed by a long golf trip with my family to Ireland and Scotland. In the fall, I started graduate school to get a Master's Degree in Computer Science at the University of California Irvine, I got pregnant, and we bought a house. In the winter, I dropped out of school, we sold the house, and we moved back to New York City because of a job offer that my husband couldn't possibly refuse. 

Little Miss Princess-Superhero

My daughter is a rough and tumble tomboy, as was I. Seems like most other girls, including my 3-year-old niece, are more the princess type. 

Sitting in the pediatrician's exam room with her Mommy one day a few weeks back, my niece displayed nerves of solid steel as the discussion turned to her impending shot. 

"I'm weady, Mommy," she said coolly.   

"OK Bella, but maybe you shouldn't look," said her Mommy thinking she was bluffing.  

"No Mommy. I want to watch," she said with uncanny resolve.  

So her Mommy shrugged and told the doctor to go ahead. The doctor didn't waste any time and pierced the skin of her tiny upper arm with the needle. Sure enough, she watched the whole thing without so much as a single noticeable flinch.  

When the doctor turned around to dispose of the bio-waste, she turned her face directly back to her Mom and said, "See Mommy, I'm SO weady for earwings." 

Lisbona, Where?

"We found a boat!," referring to the cruise they found that will take them back home across the Atlantic after our European adventure this summer, "We are leaving from Roma and stopping in Lisbona, Puerto Rico!"

Our George Costanza

Ruben is one of two high school friends with whom my father in-law keeps in touch. He can be described as George Costanza with the laugh of Krusty the Clown. Since becoming an honorary member of the family many years ago, he's held various odd jobs as insurance broker, bagel maker, mailman, truck driver and salesman of fake designer bags. His stint as a truck driver afforded him the opportunity to visit the compound at various times, bearing gifts similar to items he happened to be shipping ranging from toilet paper to toilet paper. His visits would culminate in his crashing on the family's living room couch, leaving almost nothing to the imagination for the lucky person who happened to be the early riser the following morning.

Immigrant Proverb #4 - Let's not and say we did

This was a good one from my mother-in-law when my father-in-law sat down on the couch and tried to change the channel to the Italian soccer channel, "Let's say we did."  

Immigrant Proverb #3 - Punxsatawney Phil

"Yay!", calling down the hall one morning, "it's going to be an early spring!  The greyhound said so!"

Immigrant Proverb #2 - If the shoe fits, wear it

"If the shoe fits, we put it on."  My father-in-law attempting to be smug.  

Intro to the Immigrant Proverbs - The Lemonade

My in-laws have an amazing grasp of the English language considering they arrived in America not knowing a word, but to our amusement, they still mess up tricky words and idioms. And just so you don't feel the need to pity them and frown upon our chuckling at their expense, i'll tell you that my mother-in-law, in the nicest way possible of course, laughs at my four-year-old when he tries to speak Italian. She mocks his accent.


My father-in-law is an eternal optimist and incidentally he loves lemonade. In fact, their family dinner beverage of choice was called lemonade. In reality it was a pitcher of water with the juice, pulp and seeds of one lemon. 


"Somebody make-a the lemonade!", my father-in-law would sing loudly in response to my mother-in-law yelling, "Everybody come to eat!"  


So I guess it was inevitable one of my father-in-law's favorite sayings is, "When life gives you lemons, we make-a the lemonade!"

Through the Door

Hours before my sister-in-law's wedding we were next door at Zia's house. My toddler son wandered into Zia's bedroom, shut the door, and locked it. Calmly, we tried to help him unlock the door and free himself. The house, teeming with two dozen color coordinated bridesmaids and groomsmen, quickly grew claustrophobic for the first and only time. 


After exhausting everyone's ideas about how to get the door open or off it's hinges, our son started to get agitated on the other side of the door and he began to cry. That spurred my husband into action. He backed up the length of the little hallway and charged at the door, driving his knee clean through. The hole was big enough to pull the little guy out. The crowd below cheered. 


The unfortunate result however was that after the damaged door was removed, it's replacement took some time getting into place. With extra people living in her little house constantly, Zia's pittance of privacy was obliterated. I saw her naked shortly thereafter.

Eczema

Poor Zia has been changing the baby's diaper for months, putting cream on his baby eczema, thinking it was contagious. 

The Fine Print

My father-in-law was so nice this morning to let my husband and I sleep in and he even tried to give the kids breakfast. Crackers in milk.

Fresh Off the Boat

My in-laws are eternally fresh off the boat because my father-in-law doesn't fly. The last time he got on an airplane was in 1980, flying home from his mother's funeral in Italy. They made an emergency landing in Portugal somewhere due to engine trouble and then, hours later, they were flown across the Atlantic on the same airplane.  


His heart is not 100% so no one ever seriously tries to get him to overcome his fear of flying. My mother-in-law threw a surprise party for him when he turned 50. He was clearly very surprised, to the point that we were concerned about him. So, when they travel, they use cars, trains and boats.  


When my husband and I got married in California eight years ago, they took the train. It costs a huge amount of money to take the train all the way across country, and is not comfortable. Not only did they sleep in the same bunk, but they said the potty was inches away from the bed.  


When their dear friend's son got married in California last summer, they took the train again, but only one way. My husband found a cruise that sailed from San Diego traveled through the Panama Canal and ended up in Baltimore. The cruise was a comfortable and wonderful adventure. We were all happy for them.  


For years, we have been trying to plan a trip to Sicily to visit the beach town where my mother-in-law was born. It seemed as though my father-in-law wasn't going to be able to join us, but they were able to find another cruise, just not straight to Italy. They are taking a boat to England and then riding the train, again, all the way down to Sicily and then returning the same way. They will travel around 10,000 miles by sea and land in five weeks.  

The Hot Nurse & Honey

My youngest sister-in-law, the Hot Nurse says, "Organic raw honey is great for everything." She is a wealth of natural heath and beauty tips. I learn things from her and days later they show up on Oprah. Here are a couple of her uses for organic raw honey:  

Mix 1 tbs organic raw honey with one glass room temp water to boost immune system

Organic raw honey + plain yogurt = anti-aging facial mask

Put organic raw honey on a pimple or a cut and it cuts the healing time dramatically

Zia's Sleep Habits

In 2005, when our daughter was seven months old, I traveled to Rome with our bald baby girl, my mother-in-law, and her sister, Zia, for a family wedding. We stayed with cousins and Zia and I shared a room. She fell asleep night after night on her back stiff like sleeping beauty but without the pillow. I asked my mother-in-law about it. Apparently, Zia believes that sleeping with a pillow will give her a double chin.  

Recently, I learned about another interesting sleep habit of Zia's. If she has had her hair done for an event, she will sleep directly on her face for as many nights as necessary to preserve the style.