Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. ~C.S. Lewis

If you could be any age, what age would you be and why?  Even if it were only for a day, what time of your life do you long to return to?

For me, I think that age would be four.  There’s an innocence and wide-eyed wonder we still have at that age.  I knew nothing of family conflict, physical abuse, divorce, lies or any other of life’s cruel realities.  I loved absolutely everyone and everyone loved me.  The world was a beautiful and peaceful place.  It was truly a time free of worry.  But what I remember most, there were no distractions – nobody seemed to be in the rush they are in today.  Time from my loved ones was as available as the air that I breathed.  And my mom was always there for me.  I never woke up wondering if  I would see or talk to her that day, I just knew that I would be able to.  It was the one thing I could completely count on and trust in, she would be there, no matter what.

Almost four decades later, I still want all those things.  I suppose what we want doesn’t change, just the people that we want those things from – they sometimes change.  There is a primal sort of feeling in the way we want and need to know that there is someone out in the world that loves us, that cares about us – no matter what we have done, how we have acted or how unlovable we may be at the moment.   There is a very deep security, a safety net even, knowing that someone you love, loves you back.  It’s the voice you need to hear when everything seems as if it is falling apart;  it’s the familiar hug that makes all your troubles disappear, even if it’s only for awhile; and it’s the touch of a loving hand on yours that without words, says, ‘it’s all going to be all right, I’m here for you’.  When that is taken away from us, when we no longer have the person that provided us that much-needed and longed for security, the void left is very deep and irreplaceable. It’s an empty and hollow feeling like none I’ve ever known.  Sometimes I wish I was a kid again -  skinned knees are so much easier to fix then broken hearts.

“Where’d the days go, when all we did was play? And the stress that we were under wasn’t stress at all just a run and a jump into a harmless fall” 

~Paolo Nutini

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Oy Vey

sassysicilian:

My daughter has my writing gene but an insight that is all her own. My heart broke reading this – she too has been affected by all of this. It’s hard to compete with electronics for someone’s time, but honestly, one shouldn’t have to.

Originally posted on Tu sei il mio alto:

Okay, so if you read in my last post, I have not been keeping up with my resolution this year about blogging monthly. Whoops. I just really need to get a lot off of my chest, and I find that this is a good outlet to let it all out. It is really hard for me to open up, but I just feel like this is how I can without being interrupted or judged. I come from an Italian family, and it is probably the most stressful thing ever. More stressful than trying to do your hair a certain way, and you finally have to suffice to a hat, or putting a meal in the microwave for five minutes and forgetting about until five hours later. Yes, it is that stressful. I am maybe lucky to go four or five days without being pulled into the drama of being in…

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“Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not.” ~Stephen King

Roseanna BorelliTime is one of those intangibles.  And yet, for something that cannot be touched and has absolutely no physical appearance, it holds quite a bit of power. I think we realize this as we get older.  I know I gave little to no thought in my twenties about time, and now, I cherish it knowing it could be taken from me at any moment.  It’s frustrating to me when others don’t put the same value as I do on time.    When was the last time someone gave you their undivided attention?  It felt good, didn’t it.  It may have even made you feel loved and important.  When was the last time you gave someone your undivided attention – and that means free of electronics, glancing at the clock or saying, “I really can’t stay long”, multiple times.  Perhaps I am more sensitive to this because of my Joey, whose time here on earth will almost certainly be cut short due to his terminal illness. Or maybe it’s because someone close to me can no longer give me her time like she used to.  No, she hasn’t become busier, started a job or become ill.  She was given an iPad over a year ago.  A harmless little gadget that now rules her life.  She rarely leaves home without it.  It stays on constantly and like Pavlov’s dogs, when a bell or alarm sounds from this incessant device of hers, she responds instantly.  The conversations in her kitchen while she cooks are now interrupted when she hears a sound notifying her of an incoming email or Facebook notification.  Mind you, they are usually of the utmost importance – a friend needs a ‘new life’ in an online game or someone just posted their 389th photograph of their grandchild.  This of course should bring any human interaction she was engaging in to a screeching halt so she can “like” and “comment” on these momentous happenings.

She has learned to take photographs with her iPad – a rather harmless talent.  But Ansel Adams she is not.  Using her large iPad, she insists on recreating missed and special moments, to the point of arguments and hurt feelings.  My brother is here for a very short visit and the other night I went to her home for dinner.  We were all out on the deck and she asked my brother and I to get together for a photo –  first I was told to stand next to my brother, but she said the way I was standing “looked funny”, so I stood behind my brother,  but then I was told I looked like a “hunch back”.  So then I just leaned in close but then she said “well that doesn’t look natural”. Well of course it doesn’t, you have insulted me Roseanna Borellithree times in five minutes so my smile is probably a little forced at this point and you are posing us and trying to take a photograph with something the size of a toaster.  If she had just let us interact and taken candid photos, feelings would have gone unhurt and she would have had some natural and fun photographs.  In the end, there were no photos taken of me and my brother.  I left to go inside to avoid the train wreck that was quickly approaching and he no longer wanted his photo taken.   Later that evening she took photos of our family again and they were posed like dolls, given strict instructions on how to smile and made to hold those smiles while she awkawardly tried to use her iPad to take pictures.  We all offered to use our phones to take the photographs and then send the pictures to her but she wouldn’t hear of it.  So you see, those happy family pictures are often anything but.  Her photo captions always amuse me because I know first hand the hell we went through while taking those pictures.  See, she’s from a generation where appearance is almost everything – and I do mean everything.  

Instead of waiting to post all these photos on Facebook until later, she stopped what she was doing and had my daughter teach her how to post them.  Cooking stopped, talking stopped, all she wanted to do was get those damn photographs on Facebook.  She was needed in the kitchen, but she wouldn’t go.  No, she had to make sure the Facebook world saw what a beautiful family she had right now.  But it didn’t stop there, then she wanted to see who was ‘liking’ them and commenting on them.  I sat there in complete disbelief.  I truly had no words for what I was witnessing.

The nail in the coffin was last night.  I wanted to make dinner for my family in honor of my brother’s visit.   I began cooking and when she arrived, she sat down in the recliner and got out her iPad.  That’s when my tears began.  How could she.  How could she sit there with that god damn toy and play games when we should be spending time together as a family – talking, laughing, enjoying each other’s company.   There was only a few days left of my brother’s visit and she had the nerve to bring that device to a family dinner and worry about what she was going to do if she couldn’t be ‘online’ for a few hours.  Years ago we would have all been in the kitchen talking over a bottle of wine.  Now, you could cut the tension with a knife as she sat there playing words games while I’m alone in the kitchen holding back tears.  Roseanna Borelli  At one point she asked from her chair, “are you crying” – I told her yes and she said, “well that isn’t very nice”.   She didn’t console me, she didn’t hug me,  she sat in her chair and continued her word games.

She isn’t who she used to be, she’s changed.  I hate her iPad, I hate the control it has over her.  I hate how she gets frustrated when the battery is low and she’s at my house without a charger and she will ask me what’s she supposed to do without her iPad.  How about you talk to me, how about you walk around my garden like you used to or we watch a movie together.  How about you realize that our time here together is precious and much more important that giving out lives in some ridiculous Facebook game or who has ‘liked’ your latest photo.

Right before they left, she thanked me for a wonderful evening.  My jaw just dropped.  The evening had been many things, wonderful was not one of them.  But that’s how things are in her world – the bad and unpleasant times never really happen if we don’t acknowledge them.  Just smile and pretend everything is fine.  Rose colored glasses – she has many pairs.  Maybe it’s true, our eyes really only see what our mind is willing to comprehend.

I want to go back to a time before internet and cell phones.  Before e-mails and iPads.  I want to receive letters written by a pen and put in an envelope with a stamp.  I want to have visitors to my home, not Facebook messages saying, ‘we should get together soon’.   There are three things you can’t recover in life:  the words after they are spoken; the moment after it is missed; and the time after it is gone.

I read once that time has a way of showing us what really matters.

Now I know that to be true.

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LENT – It’s What’s NOT for Dinner

lentEvery February I begin to wonder what I will give up for Lent.  I admit, I’m  not always successful in my abstaining from whatever it is I have chosen.  Ok, let me just be perfectly honest, I’m an epic failure at Lent, rarely getting past four days let alone forty.  So a few years ago, I decided that I didn’t have to necessarily give up something for Lent, why couldn’t I do something that I don’t usually do. Something that would make me a better person.  I could be more charitable with my time, I could perhaps make a difference in someone else’s life.  It’s no secret that I do not like to conform and I’m not a huge fan of the rules society or religion places upon us.  So putting a spin on how I was going to handle the Lenten season wasn’t much of a shock to those that know me well.  Besides, the year I gave up coffee only caused me to swear more, so the following year I gave up swearing which almost led to stroke like episodes.  My health was obviously at risk – Jesus would not want that.

This year I decided to let those who have touched my life in some way know how much they mean to me.  Every day, beginning on March 5, I have written a letter and mailed it (no, not an e-mail – a letter with an envelope and a stamp ) to a person who has made a difference in my life.  Maybe what they did happened ten years ago or it could have taken place only ten days ago – it could have been monumental or maybe a small, random act of kindness, it doesn’t matter, forty people will have received a letter from me by the end of the Lenten season.  And given my life’s circumstances, it will be very easy to write to forty people who have been there for me.  This endeavor may very well carry into our next religious holiday, maybe Rosh Hashana.  Wait, wrong religion.  But you get the idea.

Personally, I’ve never understood how giving up something like Facebook or cookies or chicken strengthened one’s relationship with Christ.  But that’s just me.  Giving up sweets isn’t an option for me, I’ve been on a 12oo calorie diet for six weeks now – the only thing sweet I see is my children’s faces and given that one of them is 19, even that metaphor is a stretch.  I also don’t drink soda or eat fast food – two of the most popular things people choose to abstain from for forty days.  According to Twitter, here are the most popular things people are giving up:

Whatever you choose to give up for Lent is a very personal decision – and for me, doing something extra is a good fit.  I’ve already heard from one person who received a letter from me.  I didn’t have her mailing address, so I drove to her home and placed the letter on her porch with a flower from my garden.  She called me later that day and was almost in tears.  You know, those happy tears us women are prone to.  Giving up chocolate wouldn’t have made her day or caused me to reflect on all the good in people – but reminding her how much what she did for me & my family a few years ago sure did.Roseanna Borelli

So yeah, I think Jesus is ok with me still drinking coffee and swearing now and again.  And we all know that Jesus was a coffee drinker, it’s in the Bible – Hebrews it!

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Black As Night & Sweet As Sin…

Roseanna  BorelliSome couples find ‘their’ song right away, others, it takes a bit longer. But for me and my ‘Plus 1″ – it’s taken quite some time. But early this morning, like a beacon in the night, it happened. As I stumbled up the stairs, sleep still in my eyes, wearing just one sock and an impressive display of bed head, I slowly made my way to the kitchen and there was the love of my life. Hot, dark, strong and always there for me.  True, there had been times when we were separated, but the memories of our time together always got me through those dark periods of loneliness.

Just moments from touching my lips, the smooth, soulful sound of Al Green played from the radio.  I put my hands around the warm ceramic cup filled with my true love and I knew right then, that was our song.  It’s like the coffee Gods knew we were meant to be together…

“Oh let’s, let’s stay together

Lovin’ you whether, whether

Times are good or bad, happy or sad, alright, oh yeah….”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MVzYxqG9N1c

 

Roseanna Borelli

“People like to cry over spilled milk, but I cry every time I spill my coffee.” 

~Anthony Liccione

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January 16, 2014 · 8:24 am

“It’s hard to be a bright light in a dim world.” ~G. Starta

Roseanna BorelliIn less than 12 hours it will be lights out for the incandescent light bulb.   The ludicrous light law was given life when the federal ban on producing or importing incandescents of varying watts was passed in 2007.  The efficiency standards started with 100-watt bulbs in January 2012 and end with 40-watt bulbs in January 2014.  Another shining example of how our individual rights are being threatened and this of course is another win for crony corporatism.

http://www.nbcnews.com/technology/majority-americans-still-dark-about-incandescent-light-bulb-phase-out-2D11805991

I really do not like being told what I can and cannot buy. We should be given a choice, whether it’s healthcare, Slurpies or lightbulbs. So up yours Federal Government because I’ve been stock-piling incandescent light bulbs for the past three years – my family thought I was crazy for doing this — but now they know where to come when they need an incandescent bulb, as none of them are too fond of those curly mercury filled, over-priced, need a hazmat suit to get rid of them, light bulbs.   Personally, I have had 3 of them burn and pop which resulted in a lovely smoke cloud when I turned them on – one even caught on fire.  I never had that happen with Mr. Edison’s invention. I’ll live by candles before I ever purchase a LED or CFL bulb again. But I suppose the government will impose a candle tax soon and then put into law the proper way to get rid of candle wax…. you must first pour it into a Government approved container while standing on one foot – in the dark, since you can only burn candles during daylight hours – and never on days that end in ‘Y’. Then the container must be picked up by a Federally Approved Agency, where millions of dollars have been spent on the intense training of candle wax waste but they only operate when the earth, moon, and sun are in perfect alignment.

In the end, incandescent bulbs won’t go away entirely. The capitalist will always find a way to produce what society wants when the government morons turn their idiotic ideas into law. By the way, all incandescents are still legal in Texas– Gov. Perry signed an exemption in June 2011.  God Bless Texas!

Uncle FesterNow, there is the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.  Many exemptions are written into this light law, including “specialty bulbs” such as the 3-way bulb, silver-bottomed bulb, chandelier bulb & refrigerator bulb.  For those of us that dislike the cold, sterile light emitted by LED & CFL bulbs, I have more good news. After some research, I discovered that incandescent bulbs are only illegal for home use, but not for industrial use. Find a commercial supplier that sells to the public and problem solved. Yes, you will have to buy them by the case – but it is still cheaper than what you would spend at Home Depot or Lowe’s. Here are a few links to get you started:

http://www.mcmaster.com/#light-bulbs/=q1s8v0

http://www.grainger.com/category/lighting/ecatalog/N-bie?refineSearchString=incandescent&searchString=Lighting&QuickSearchController=GO

Now, after your incandescent bulbs arrive, you can take those ridiculous curly, hazardous, non-recyclable bulbs out of your lamps and toss them out the window. But then, immediately call the morons at the E.P.A. to rush over to your home in their Hazmat suits to clean up the mess because those idiots are in dire need of something to do to keep them from passing any more loony luminary laws.  People, this is INSANE - allowing a government to dictate economics to us. This is America land of the FREE.   The government does not have the power under the Constitution to legislate upon this matter. It is no where to be found in Article 1, Section 8 — go look for yourself, you won’t find one damn word about the power to regulate light bulbs there.  Of course, I was in my office when I was reading about all of this, and it is lit by incandescent lighting, so maybe a LED bulb would have shed more light on the matter.

I’m not sure how my daughter’s generation is going to react to this news – they are 20-somethings with more to worry about than lightbulbs.Roseanna Borelli However, my daughter is very much her mother’s daughter and by that I mean, she loathes being told what she can and can’t do – or purchase. She, along with her friends, all know about Ms. Roseanna’s Light Bulb Closet and while they thought it was funny at first, they now realize why I don’t need an incandescent intervention or my own episode of “Hoarders”.   They even gave me incandescent lightbulbs as Christmas gifts this year – and I was thrilled!  I admit, I have a somewhat vain reason for loving the incandescent bulb – I look fabulous in that type of lighting.  Hell, we all do.   And while I’m still mistaken for my daughter’s older sister instead of her mother, I know for a fact that time marches on and soon it will march across my body.  And when that happens, I’d like to quote the lovely and gone too soon Donna Summer,  ‘Dim all the lights, sweet darling….’ – but they better damn well be incandescent!

Oh, and keep in mind, this law was passed during the Bush Administration.

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Every Child Is Gifted, They Just Unwrap Their Packages At Different Times…

Until you are the parent of a child like my little Joey, you may not fully comprehend what it’s like to have a school like the Linda Nolen Learning Center for your child to attend.  These are not your typical teachers – not by a long shot.  They ride in ambulances when one of their students is rushed to Children’s Hospital, they deal with almost as much bodily fluids (and I mean from ALL ENDS) as the parents have to at home.  And even though they may have less than ten children in their class, they all have varying and often multiple disabilities – many requiring medical equipment, wheelchairs, walkers, etc.  They have to know how to communicate with these children who are non-verbal – and they are able to, understanding what their different facial expressions, moans and sounds mean.  Seizures are a daily occurrence, along with emotional melt-downs and outbursts.  I’ve seen first hand how they interact with the students and it’s like they are their own children, it is the closest thing to a Roseanna Borellifamily outside of my own that I’ve ever encountered.  What I love most is that they do not see Joey’s disability; rather, what he may be capable of doing.  Goals are set, limits pushed, small victories celebrated with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.  They are somehow able to tap into each child’s creative outlet coming up with wonderful & stimulating activities that I would never have thought of and they let each child express themselves freely.  It’s not unusual for Joey to come home with green paint under his fingernails or Kool-Aid stains on his shirt from a painting project gone wild.   The teachers at LNLC put into practice what I’ve always believed about children, regardless of their ability, and that is, that every student can learn, but it just might not be on the same day or in the same way. 

There are very few, and I mean very few,  people I trust Joey with and I can honestly say that while he is at school, I don’t worry.  Well, ok, I worry; I’m a mom, that’s what we do.  But I never question if he is being loved and cared for.  Personally, I have a special place in my heart for all teachers; I think like nursing, it’s a calling.  You obviously don’t enter teaching to become a millionaire. But to work at a school like LNLC requires a level of love, patience and compassion that leaves me speechless.  I’m impressed with everyone at LNLC – from the lady at the front desk who Joey flirts with incessantly, to the counselor, the nurses (yes, Joey flirts with those two as well), the teachers, administration …even the janitorial staff – they all know these kids and interact with them.  But most importantly, the students know they are loved – hugs and smiles are never in short supply.

The staff at LNLC is nothing short of amazing and today I felt the need to share that with everyone.

Something to think about….

“If a doctor, lawyer, or dentist had 40 people in his office at one time, all of whom had different needs, and some of whom didn’t want to be there and were causing trouble, and the doctor, lawyer, or dentist, without assistance, had to treat them all with professional excellence for nine months, then he might have some conception of the special need teacher’s job.” ~D. Quinn

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Merry Thanksmas…

Happy November 1!

In our home, today marks the official kick off of all things Christmas. Yes, today begins my yearly metamorphosis into Clark Griswold’s, younger, better Roseanna Borellilooking sister who is a Clandestine Member of the E.E.L.I.I. – the Excessive Exterior Luminary Intelligence Institute. Christmas music, decor and over-the-top outside lighting that often causes a temporary neighborhood brown-out, are what the kids & I dream about all year. ALL YEAR.   I think it is more than mere coincidence that on this very day in 1512, the Sistine Chapel ceiling was open to the public.  See, us Italian, creative & expressive types stick together. Did you know that Michelangelo worked until his death in 1564 at the age of 88?  That will be me, doing what I love until I take my last breath.  The headline will read,

“LOCAL WOMAN FOUND TANGLED IN TINSEL WHILE DECORATING”.  Witnesses say her last words were, “I call bullshit on one bulb going out and all the others staying lit”.  Alabama Power now worried about 4th quarter profits.

Perhaps my teenage daughter just rolls her eyes when this time of year arrives,  since she is the one who gets sent to the attic multiple times to bring down decades of decorations. But deep down—- deep deep down, I know she enjoys it.  My little Joey, however, gets as excited as his mama – he loves the lights and sounds that come to life about this time each year .  In fact, given that he has spent many Decembers in the hospital, his Christmas tree stays up in his room all year.

The Christmas DVDs will now stay out by the television for the next couple months and our Pandora stations will all be set to the Christmas channels.  For us, this really is the most wonderful time of the year and it has nothing to do with gifts or the marketing mayhem that corporate clowns will force down our throats over the coming weeks.  There’s just a feeling in the air that comes around right about now – and no, it’s not because the temperature has dropped some.  I’m referring to that illusive Christmas spirit.  It’s coming, I can feel it, and I’m happy to be one of those that kicks it off just a little earlier than most.  I’ve never conformed to the restraints of society, so if I want to put my Christmas decorations out now, that’s what this mama is going to do.  It takes a full week to transform my home into Santa’s Village South and I want to enjoy it as long as possible.   January will be here in the blink of an eye and soon I will be wrapping up my decorations, putting them in boxes and out of sight in my attic.  Sort of like the Christmas spirit – it comes in with a bang, makes all of us feel warm and fuzzy inside and you always wish it would stay just a bit longer.  Sadly, it seems to get packed away and then it’s gone.  In the words of Kin Hubbard, “Next to a circus there ain’t nothing that packs up and tears out faster than the Christmas spirit.”

Now, for those of you shaking your head because Thanksgiving seems to beRoseanna Borelli's Turkey lost on those of us who get tangled in the tinsel a touch too soon, here’s what I’m going to do.  Just for you, I will buy a Butterball and put him on display – but I’m going to decorate his frozen ass with a big red bow and a Santa Hat.Gobble Ho Gobble Ho, Gobble Ho, Ho, Ho!

And in the spirit of Christmas marketing, don’t forget to visit http://santaletters-us.webs.com/ and order a letter from Santa.  This is my little home business that I’ve had the pleasure of doing for almost a decade.  Bringing to life the antics and mischief that takes place in Santa’s North Pole Village is something I enjoy writing about each year and sharing with hundreds of children.  I hope yours will be one of them.

“It came without ribbons!  It came without tags!  It came without packages, boxes or bags!”… Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before!  “Maybe Christmas,” he thought, “doesn’t come from a store.  Maybe Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more!” 

Roseanna Borelli

~Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas

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Multi-Tasking Mayhem

Grocery Shopping With Gionna, Summer 2011

Grocery Shopping With Gionna, Summer 2011

I went to the grocery store today for a few things.  Not a big deal and hardly worth writing about.   Well, not in my world.  No, in my little corner of the world, the boring and mundane seem to somehow morph into comedic events that often find their way to my blog or occasionally my Facecrack page.

Almost every morning before I get up, I wonder what is going to happen that I will be able to write about, because more often than not, by the middle of the day a level of chaos has ensued that would rival an Abbott & Costello routine. Actually, the first thing I do each morning is say this little prayer, “dear God, please, please keep me from saying something stupid, don’t let me swear in front of my mother or laugh at the most inappropriate of times.”  I’m beginning to think that God is extremely busy between the hours of 4:30 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. Central Time because he has yet to help me hold my tongue.  We need a Patron Saint of “Are You Really Going To Say That Out Loud”.  Perhaps there is a St. Filter of Foligno.

But I digress…

I arrived home from the grocery store, carried the groceries upstairs and began putting them away. During this time the phone rings.  It’s a lady from the company that supplies my son’s diapers and she needs to know how many diapers Joey has left so she can reorder more for next month.  No problem, I go back downstairs to Joey’s closet and begin counting – she puts me on hold;

Another call comes in while I’m doing this – it’s a different company calling to refill Joey’s formula, but they need to know how many packets of formula I have on hand before they can refill the formula.  So, I stop counting diapers and begin counting formula packets.

In the middle of counting formula packets, I realize I haven’t yet put the groceries that need to be in the refrigerator away.  So I stop counting and run back upstairs.  I’m almost to the top of the stairs when there is a knock on the door. REALLY!?!   I turn around and head to the front door, but then decide not to answer it – it’s probably someone selling something.  I go back downstairs and resume counting formula packets.  I’m almost done when the call waiting clicks again.  It’s the lady from the diaper company – she hung up and called back.  Oops!  Her voice isn’t quite as pleasant as before and I detect a hint of an attitude.  I remind myself of my early morning request to God to keep His hand over my mouth.  So far so good.

I’m back in Joey’s closet counting formula, no, wait, diapers.  Yes, diapers. Now the knock on the door has escalated to a multi ringing of the doorbell. I stop counting and run back up the stairs and open the door.  It’s a lady from down the street thanking me for helping her find her lost dog last night.  She goes on about wanting to take me to lunch tomorrow or maybe coffee and then starts to tell me what a beautiful home I have and OH MY GOD WOMAN PLEASE STOP TALKING BECAUSE I’M COUNTING! I smile, mumbleMulti Tasking something and invite her in, while at the same time glancing up to the kitchen and seeing the groceries still on the counter, cradling my phone on my shoulder and running back downstairs to see how many diapers Joey has left but then I remember that the formula packet lady is still on hold.  I click back over and apologize for keeping her on hold.  She asks me again for the number of packets Joey has left and I just blurt out 240.  Why that number?  Because the radio station that is playing in the background just announced that if you are holding a ticket with those three numbers, then you will win $100.  The lady tells me that it is impossible for me to have 240 packets because that is more than they send to me in a month.  Well damn.  I tell her that I was probably counting diapers and put her on hold. I tell the lost but found dog lady to make herself at home and I get diaper lady back on the phone.  I tell her how many diapers are left and she asks me if I’m certain.  At this point I’m certain of nothing and I jokingly tell her that but my humor is not well received.  She tells me that I must tell her exactly how many diapers I have or I could face penalties.  Ooooh, I’m scared.  Is The Divine Director of Diapers going to show up on my front porch demanding a recount.  Is there a division of dim wits at the NSA now watching how many diapers cross Joey’s derrière?

In the end, diapers were ordered, formula packets were counted and refilled and I made a new friend in the neighborhood.  But taking everything you just read into consideration, is it really any wonder that when I went to get some water from the refrigerator a few minutes ago, this is what I found:

Roseanna Borelli

Would you like to venture a guess as to where the milk that I just bought is located?  Yup, it’s in the laundry room, on a shelf, next to the bleach.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkbQDEXJy2k

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“The more corrupt the state, the more numerous the laws.” ~Publius Cornelius Tacitus

Video By Roseanna Borelli

Our government shutdown last week.  And while Barack would like for us to think this is an epic event that can be compared only to an apocalypse, the truth is, only 17% of the government has shutdown.  Barack has deemed many services still essential.  More than half of his wife’s staff (makeup, hair, etc.) are still employed,  Michelle’s website,  http://www.letsmove.gov/ is up and running and the White House chefs all still have jobs.  As of today, Medicare, the United States Postal Service, tax collection and our military all continue to operate – but Barack did have to cut all sports and entertainment TV to our troops overseas.  God forbid they enjoy themselves if and when they have even a minute of free time from risking their lives for us.   Good luck trying to visit the National Zoo or any National Park – and don’t even think about trying to view Mount Rushmore, Barack made sure we can’t even slow down on the roads that our tax money pays for to stop and look at that national monument.  

“We just can’t trust the American people to make those types of choices…. Government has to make those choices for people.” ~ Hilary Rodham Clinton

I remember enough from my high school government class that each year Congress has to agree on a budget to fund the government.   This year we seem to be at a standstill, with Congress unable and unwilling to agree on how best to use federal funds.  It is my understanding that they couldn’t even agree to a stopgap measure to temporarily provide funds for our government. 

The point of contention in all of this is funding the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare).  In case you’ve been living in a cave for the past few years, Obamacare is the president’s pride and joy that will increase the number of Americans who receive health insurance by forcing them to buy it or face severe fines.  At first, I thought this was a ridiculous tactic by the republicans, a type of temper tantrum, if you will.  But in the past few days I have read and heard countless stories from personal friends of the nightmare they are now faced with regarding their health insurance.  Sure, they can keep their current health insurance, but the rates have more than tripled and their deductibles are five times higher now.  How in the hell is this affordable to average, hard-working American citizens?  Barack is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, promising us one thing and delivering something that can only be described as its polar opposite – and the begin of our demise.

I hope like hell all or part of this tyranny of a healthcare plan is either doneRoseanna Borelli away with or forced to undergo a major overhaul – actually, I wish that for our current government.  Our rights are slowing being stripped from us – this is not the America I knew even fifteen years ago.  For those of you that have been drinking the Kool-Aid, you are about to have a very bitter taste in your mouth as the rest of Obamacare and his presidency unfolds.  

When I taste something bitter, I spit it right back out.  And then I make a little video…

“When enough people realize that they are slaves but don’t have to be, revolutions happen.”  ~ J.S.B. Morse

“I am for doing good to the poor, but…I think the best way of doing good to the poor, is not making them easy in poverty, but leading or driving them out of it. I observed…that the more public provisions were made for the poor, the less they provided for themselves, and of course became poorer. And, on the contrary, the less was done for them, the more they did for themselves, and became richer.”  ~ Benjamin Franklin

“You know something is wrong when the government declares opening someone else’s mail is a felony but your internet activity is fair game for data collecting.”  ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

“The only way to make a difference is to acquire power.”  ~ Hilary Rodham Clinton

“Politically, Republicans and Democrats are at opposite ends. One’s a burp and the other’s a fart.
”  ~ Jarod Kintz

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October 9, 2013 · 5:18 am

Laughter is the sound of the soul dancing. ~J. Kintz

When was the last time you had a begin at your toes, belly shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks, nose-sorting kind of laugh?  Yesterday?  Last month?  Last year?  I hope it was recently.  I hope it happens more often than not and I even hope that it’s sometimes at yourself.  Yes, yourself.  I’m not sure I would have written that last statement fifteen or even ten years ago. But as I’ve gotten, older, um- wiser, I’ve learned that not only is it ok to laugh at yourself, but it feels good.  It’s a sort of inner acceptance that occasionally you do embarrass yourself and sometimes it’s damn funny – and there is nothing wrong with that.  In fact, there was a study done in 2011Roseanna Borelli regarding this very topic (look, it’s not as ridiculous as the The Elephant Self-Recognition Study to see if elephants recognize themselves in a mirror).  The University of California, Berkeley, and the University of Zürich studied 70 psychology students to measure their ability to laugh at themselves.  When the study ended, it was discovered that being able to laugh at yourself is a distinct trait.  It also revealed that it coincides with having an upbeat personality, pleasant mood and a good sense of humor.  I think if you asked those that know me best, they would agree that I have those traits.  And I can tell you from personal experience, as recently as yesterday, that I can most definitely laugh at myself.  I often share my embarrassing moments on my Facebook page.  I do this for two reasons.  First, most of the predicaments I get myself into are rather comical and I like to think that by sharing them, I’m showing others that we need to stop taking life so seriously and lighten up some.  Second, it makes me happy to know that sharing my latest blunder made my friends laugh, yes, even if it’s at my expense.  When I write something and someone replies with, “that made my day”, or “I haven’t laughed that hard all week”, well, that makes my day.  Like “paying it forward”, but with humor.

My most recent embarrassing moment occurred this past weekend at the park. Autumn was in the air, so instead of going to the gym, I decided to power walk outside.    I have a rather diverse taste in music but when it comes to working out, it’s all about Motown and old-school R&B…with a little latin tossed in. With my iPod in hand and a fabulous playlist created by yours truly, I hit the pavement. Something about this time of year invigorates me and I had completed a mile in record time.  Ok, I wasn’t exactly training for a marathon, but it was impressive none the less.  With the endorphins now kicking in, I began my second mile almost jogging – emphasis on ‘almost’.  And then, it happened.  I heard those first few notes of the song that makes it impossible for me not to want to dance.  I’m talking get my stilettos, a red dress and find a dance floor kind of dancing.  My pace quickened as the song played, I had a rhythm now and I dance-1050x600was singing along to the song.  Half way through the song it happened, I’m not sure it was even a conscious decision, but all of a sudden I was doing a cha-cha/mambo step with a few salsa moves.  It was during this impromptu dance session that my ear phones fell out – and that’s when I realized I had a small, but quite attentive, audience. Two elderly couples were watching me and when our eyes met, they applauded.  I smiled, took a bow and started laughing. One lady said to me, “dear, I want to know what you’re listening to so I can move like that”.  I was still catching my breath (and laughing) when her husband asked me if I came to the park often.  I told him that I do three to four shows a week.  The five of us talked for a few moments and then I continued on my walk.   I’ll admit, I felt a bit foolish as I walked away but then I thought to myself, why?  I was having fun and in doing so,  I brought a smile to four other people.  Life is too short to be taken so seriously, that’s what I’m learning.   And I think I get it now…that famous quote by William Purkey,

“You’ve gotta dance like there’s nobody watching,
Love like you’ll never be hurt,
Sing like there’s nobody listening,
And live like it’s heaven on earth.”

I think this will be one of those stories that has a “Part 2″.  So I’m going to close for now, I really need to get ready – I have a show in 30 minutes. 

♫~~~♪~~~♫~~~♪~~~♫~~~♫~~~♪~~~♫~~~♪~~~♫~~~♫~~~♪~~~♫~~~♪

Wondering what song inspired my mid-morning mambo – well here it is:

http://youtu.be/kGuMnwCEcP4

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September 30, 2013 · 9:38 am

Parenting means giving them your presence, not presents.

I just heard on the news that yet another teenage act of violence is being blamed on Grand Theft Auto.   Really?  I did a little research today and it is mind-boggling how many teenagers are succumbing to criminal mischief only to have their parents shout, ‘it’s the video games that made him do it‘ and Roseanna Borellithen turn around and sue.  Because that’s what we do now, something goes wrong, it must be someone else’s fault.  Are you overweight – sue McDonald’s because they must have forced you to drive to their restaurant (and I use that term loosely), purchase an artery clogging meal and then super-size it while the manager force-fed you against your every wish.   Accountability certainly seems to be a thing of the past.  At what point are parents going to take responsibility for, oh I don’t know, RAISING THEIR KIDS AND MONITORING WHAT THEY DO!  I love Forza Motorsport but you don’t see me racing down I-65 trying to crash into rival cars.  I’m giving Forza a shout out because they encourage online reviews from kids and unlike Grand Theft Auto, the violence, sans car crashes, in the Forza series is non-existent.  http://www.commonsensemedia.org/game-reviews/forza-horizon/user-reviews/kids

My daughter is in college now but during her formative years, the only video game console that was in our home was Nintendo’s Wii Fit.  I know, hardly ‘cool’.   Somehow she survived her childhood and teenage years without an Xbox or Playstation and I’m fairly confident that the lack of those things will not land her in therapy.  Now, I’m not saying she won’t end up there one day due to her crazy Italian family, but you will never hear her say, “it all started one afternoon after school when I met Mario & Luigi…”

I have friends in their thirties and forties with children ranging in ages from 5 to 15.  All of them have some sort of gaming console in their home – some strictly monitor the hours their children can play on it, some do not, at all.   I have seen first hand these responsible, educated,  all around nice people buy video games for their pre-teen kids, even when the game rating is “17 and Roseanna Borelliover”.    Hmmm, let’s think about the ramifications of that decision sans any common sense for a moment.  You allow your child, who has barely entered the coveted double-digit age, to play games with excessive use of heavy artillery, while often promoting sex & drugs, massive killings and violence that would impress Tony Montana from Scarface.  Then, at age 16, they begin getting into trouble – drugs, gangs, maybe even shooting up a mall full of people on a Saturday afternoon.  And when the police question you, you really have no idea why he would do such a horrible thing because he was a very quiet boy, always kept to himself and spent a lot of time in his room.  Guess what, he wasn’t writing poetry.  Let me be clear, I am not blaming video games for trigger happy teenagers. I’m putting this back on the parents. Because I would imagine that a young, impressionable ten-year old that was allowed to spend entirely too much time playing violent games for seven years might not grow up to be the next Ambassador for Peace.

I think video games played in moderation are probably pretty harmless.  If they weren’t, millions of adults that play Farmville would have all turned into farmers with anxiety issues wondering if they had watered their crops and another million or so adults would be making those same farmers offers they couldn’t refuse to grow  crops of weed for them to sell on Mafia Wars.

All joking aside, being a responsible parent is damn hard work.  But guess what, they are our responsibility.  Not teachers, not coaches and certainly not the TV or video games.  It’s on us first and foremost.  It’s a thankless job, the pay sucks and that terrible two stage has been known to stick around for

Roseanna Borelli

Proof my daughter was told “no” and didn’t like it!

years.  Why some parents try to be their kids ‘friend’ I will never understand.  My daughter is nineteen, and I’ve told her over and over, somewhere in your thirties we might be friends – now, I’m still Mama. While she was growing up, if she misbehaved, she was spanked; when she talked back, she got a teaspoon of vinegar in her mouth.  When “time-outs” became the new parenting tool I couldn’t help but laugh – yes, put your child in the corner or better yet, in their room, where the video games are.  That’ll show them!   Bette Davis said it best, “If you have never been hated by your child, you have never been a parent.” 

I fear this upcoming generation will be filled with people who have a grandiose sense of entitlement and zero knowledge of personal responsibility – I’m already seeing it.    They learn from example people, so if you’re a parent, that example had damn well better be you – and you need to make it a consistently good one.  But let me tell you something, when your daughter is in college and you get a text one day that says,

“Mom, I’ve been meaning to tell you this, thank you for raising me the way you did.  Literally every person I met this weekend told me they’ve never met a girl who could stand up for herself like I do”.  

…makes every damn second of the past nineteen years worth it.

Every. Damn. One.

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