Happy Birthday Dan

Dear Dan,

Happy Birthday. More importantly to you, Happy Flag Day. You loved that your birthday was on Flag Day. I wish I could find one of the pictures to post here of you with your flag hat. As a matter of fact, I don't know what I did with that hat. Sorry. Maybe it found its way into the boxes of your stuff that I sent to New Orleans after Katrina hit. It took me all that time just to part with anything. Don't worry, I didn't give them your long underwear. Don't think they would have a need for that down there.

Anyway, today we will be celebrating with family and friends at the Elbow Room. Same as we did on the last birthday you celebrated on this earth. Some things never change huh?

Speaking of that. I can't believe you have missed seven birthdays. The world has changed so much in those seven years. So much so that you would hardly recognise things that you loved. Like the Republicans. Sorry buddy, but the Jesus freaks took them over. I can't imagine you liking that. But I can't imagine you voting for a Democrat either.

And your boys. The pride and joy of your life. They are so grown up. Sometimes when I look at Devin, I have to look twice because he looks so much like you. Especially when he laughs. Which is often. They have so much of you in them. Unfortunately not the working gene. But I'll talk to you about that on one of my trips to the cemetery.

Danny grew to appreciate your passion for books. One by one, he's reading his way through your library. You should be so proud. I'm just sorry he wasn't old enough to appreciate them when you were alive. He could have listened to you go on and on, an on. I would have been off the hook!

I do have one gift for you though. An apology. I'm sorry for calling you a jerk and an asshole sometimes when you drove me crazy. You got the last laugh though. I got your message. Loud and clear. I can see you now, legs crossed. Smoking a Marlboro with your elbow on you lap, slightly leaning forward and to the right. Laughing. Every time you send me a sign. I can hear you say "So, I wasn't such an asshole after all was I?"

No, you weren't. You were a loving father and husband who worked much harder than you should have had to. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't appreciate you and miss you.

I especially miss the flowers. So much so that I had to go and actually grow some myself. You would be amazed. Figured I'd better grow some for myself since no one buys them for me anymore! This whole gardening thing is kinda fun. I'm sure you would have gotten into that just as much as when you got into being the pool boy!!

Happy Birthday Dan. I'm sure you are dancing somewhere......just not in those yellow pants,I hope!

Love you,
Eileen



PS. Where was your tie in this picture? You always wore a tie. Even when you weren't going anywhere for cryin' out loud~

Hoop Hero's

I grew up in a basketball crazy family. And that's putting it mildly. Somewhere around 1950 or 51 my mother decided that if she ever wanted to spend an evening with my father, she better pack us kids up and take us to the gym. We were at basketball games about five days out of the week. When we were old enough to sit by ourselves, mom worked the refreshment stand. I, of course, practiced being a cheerleader doing cartwheels on stage at St. Mary's Lyceum as if no one was watching. They were.

And then there's the story about how my dad got kicked out of a game for getting 12 technicals. He went and got The Madonna and sat her right in the middle of the court and told the ref's that she wasn't moving until he was allowed back in the game. She was TWO YEARS OLD!

The reason for all these basketball flashbacks? John Wooden, the coach every person who ever coached basketball aspired to be, passed away this past week at the age of 99.

Anyone who grew up in Lawrencevile knows my father's coaching style was more like Bobby Knight. They all have their favorite "Coach" story about my dad. But he idolized John Wooden and the UCLA Bruins. Our family dog, a big ol' sheepdog, was named Kareem. I know. We were weird.

I have been online this week reading some of the news accounts of his life. In an age when it seems the athletes run the show and leave college after a year or two, reading accounts from his former players is truly inspirational. He took the responsibility of not only teaching these kids to play basketball, but he prepared them to be leaders in life off of the basketball court as well. As Kareem Abdul Jabbar said it wasn't enough to just teach him to play basketball. He wanted to coach scholar athlete's. I read somewhere that when he recruited Kareem, who was then known as Lew Alcindor, Coach Wooden memorized poems by Lansgton Hughes, a black modern poet. He used that as a bridge to relate to his 7'2" star. It worked.

I could go on and on here, but I thought I would mention a few Wooden-isms. Famous Quotes by John Wooden.

Don't measure yourself by what you have accomplished, but by what you should have accomplished with your ability.

If you don't have the time to do it right, when will you have the time to do it over?

It's what you know after you know it all that counts.

Never mistake activity for achievement. (I like that one!)

Winning takes talent, to repeat takes character.

Talent is God given. Be humble. Fame is man given. Be grateful. Conceit is self-given. Be careful.

And my personal favorite. What you are as a person is much more important than what you are as a basketball player.

These are just a few of the reason's why there will never be another coach like John Wooden, and teams that he coached at UCLA. Not even sacred Duke with their Polish Prince.... They don't even come close.

I'm saying this as Red Quinlan's daughter. The same Red Quinlan who made his teams wear suits to every game. Even during the 70's. The same Red Quinlan that former players still are afraid to let him know that they smoke cigarettes. Even though they are well into their 50's and early 60's. And the same Red Quinlan that would talk basketball strategy to his kids every evening during dinner. It helped me get a date once when I was in DC. I was watching a game on TV in our "lounge" room at the apartment complex where I lived. I started talking basketball with the guy sitting next to me. Finally he said to me, "Would you like to go out with me. I never talked sports like this with a girl before?" We went out once or twice. It didn't work. I knew more about basketball than he did. In the 70's, that was a no-no!

Today's Soapbox

How about THIS??????? What a white trash piece of shit this woman is!!!!

According to the Post Gazette:
She claims her home is uninhabitable and worthless because the operator didn't pass on information that her son Richard has weapons, resulting in the killing of three police officers"
Unmotherfuckingbelievable.

No lady, your home is uninhabitable and worthless because your son is a worthless piece of shit who staged a war against the Pittsburgh Police Department because YOU ALLOWED him to bring an army of guns and ammunition into your home.

So it's your fault lady, don't come cryin' here. You should have been a mother to this kid and stopped him any way you could after he started bringing home guns that were for more than "hunting" (I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt here that he started buying guns for hunting)

If your wondering why so crazy about this, here is my original post.

http://angermanagementgirls.blogspot.com/2009/04/when-its-not-beautiful-day-in.html

Ok, I feel better now that I got that off my chest.

Hail Mary.........

So this kid was suspended for wearing Rosary beads to school. All the adults are up in arms saying he should be allowed to wear his Rosary Beads because they are not gang symbols.

Don't quote me on this but isn't wearing rosary beads around your neck a mortal sin? Isn't it? I was taught that they were sacred objects and that the nuns were to only ones to get the privilege to wear them. I remember as a kid always wanting to wear them and never being allowed. (Hmmmm....Maybe that's why I always dressed up like a nun, to wear my rosaries!)

And who says that rosary beads aren't gang symbols. The Catholic Church is one of the biggest gangs in the world for cryin' out loud!!!

Happy Days Are Here Again......

I'm happy.

Yes, I'm happy.

For the first time in a looooong time, well 7 years and 73 days to be exact, I look forward to the new day when I get out of bed in the morning.

I get up with a smile on my face. Ok, maybe not a smile. But definitely not the dreaded feeling of wondering how I'm going to make it through another day.

This may seem like a shock to some of you who think I am all fun and bubbly and my life is great. Yes, it may be surprising to some that for seven plus years I was in such a deep funk that it took every ounce of will power just to get out of bed and face another day of the disaster that my life had become. I won't bore you with the details. But it wasn't pretty.

For those of you who constantly tell me how lucky I am. The hair on your back would rise if I told you real stories of how un-lucky I am. And I am serious.
But that is over now. New beginnings. Right?

Anyway...........I was talking to my friend Erin (who needs to move back to Pittsburgh because I miss her and her baby like crazy!) We were talking and she said out of the blue, "You finally sound happy again." And I thought to myself, yeah, I do, don't I. Erin is one of the people who know my whole story. She's one of the few I can and did call in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep because I couldn't settle myself down enough to stop crying. She's my friend I would call and vent when person after person would tell me how "great" I was handling my husbands death. She knew I wasn't handling it, at all.

It's not that I don't have great friends who would have helped me in through ANYTHING. I do. But it's just that we all know how I feel about sissy-la-la's. People who whine all the time make me crazy. I didn't want to be one of those "woe is me" people. I would rather cry myself to sleep than be considered not strong. I know, I know. I'm fuckin' nuts. But I can't and will not be a sissy-la-la.

Well all of that is water under the bridge now. I can finally stay home. I can finally sit in my living room and watch TV for more than ten minutes. I can finally lay in bed and read a book. I can finally laugh with my kids.
I guess that's why I can finally "out" myself as a sissy la la. Hope I didn't burst any one's bubble!

This is so not where I wanted to take this blog post. I never know what these will turn into when I start typing.

Sigh, enough of this touchy feely shit. People will start spreading rumors that I am push-over. It's bad enough I turned into a far left Democrat for cryin out loud!

Let's see, what else pissed me off this week? (Don't worry, It's a happy pissed off and not a I'm ready to hit you in the face pissed off!)

Passive aggressive people really piss me off. It's the one personality trait that absolutely drives me crazy. If you know me, you know what my opinions are on just about everything. If you know me, you know if I like you or not in about five minutes. If you know me, and you don't like me, or like what I'm doing, tell me for cryin' out loud. It's not the end of the world. I'll live and so will you all. Just don't start that damn whining!!!!! Stand up for yourselves people. No one else will.

How about that scum bag Jesse James! Talk about sissy la la's. Boo Hoo, I was abused as a child so I had to go F#%@ every tattooed porn star west of the Mississippi.Jerk. Just once can't some cheating celebrity just keep their mouth shut and face it like a man/woman. Quit blaming someone/thing!!!!!!!! Just once. Sissy la la punk. I hope he gets diseases. (Sorry Sr. Susan!)

Previously I've told you about a blog I read called Callapitter. It's written by a mother whose two children were killed in a car accident. After reading what she goes through, that's one of the reasons I hate to talk about my own problems. They pale in comparison to this poor woman. She has been trying to get a playground built in their honor. Ginny over at That's Church explains it better than me. I like Doug Shields and usually agree with most of what he does. However, this is puzzling to me. Doug, WTF???? Residents of the Frick Park area, if you don't like noise, how come you live near a park??????????????????

One more thing, then I'm done bitching, I promise. How about the people who want the government out of their lives, ie Republicans. Yes, they want the big bad government to stay the hell out of everything. Until there's a problem. Then there all like "where the hell is Obama, he's not doing anything to help us. bla bla bla."
Just askin'

I guess I'm done bitching for now, I better go dig out the white shoes and linen for Monday.

Where Angels Go..........

OK, OK, I didn't drown in the bathtub.
Nice to know I was missed though!!!!

Sooooooo last we talked I was mad at the Pope. So yesterday he finally saw the light and says "Today we see in a truly terrifying way that the greatest persecution of the Church does not come from outside enemies but is born of sin within the Church,"
There Your Eminence (how does one address the Pope anyhow?) Was that so hard????? Geezeohman. You said it. Now.......let's move on.......I'm over it.

I've been busy lately. Seems like I've been running in circles from here to there and back again. One of the events I attended was pure joy though. My friend Andrea was honored with the Ted Craig Humanitarian Award for her work at the Woman's Shelter of Pittsburgh. Talk about a three hankie deal!!! Holy cow............

She is truly an angel to alot of people. Esp. the woman at the Woman's Shelter. And she does all of this with a life threatening disease that would have killed a lesser person long ago. Truly amazing.

Andrea and I met shortly after her divorce and Dan's death. Both of us being newly single and the same age, we hit it off. In no time we were jet setting our sorrows away. Italy, Camen Islands, Florida, New York, Vegas just to name a few.

Andrea's job comes with alot of perks and I am usually her number one seat filler.
One of her outings brought us to the Pirate Game on Mothers Day. In our box I met two of the most interesting Benedictine Nuns. Sister Susan Fazzini and Sister Audrey Quinn were foster parents to 160 children. YES, I said 160!!! Yes, they surely deserved a Mother's Day celebration much more than I!!!!!

During the game we started talking and I ask Sr. Susan what she thought of the whole Pope thingee and the healthcare debate, you know, my usual.......Andrea rolls her eyes and holds her breath and says "Here we go." But I know she's praying to herself saying "Please Dear Lord, don't let them bring up the Capachuns." (whole other story!)
Instead, I bring up the fact that I used to dress up like a nun and play mass when I was a kid, etc......So I pull up this here blog on my blackberry and show her. She in turn wants my blog address and so I gave it to her.

When I got home, I got to thinking. Man oh man what did I do? What if I offend her? She's a nun for cryin' out loud. Although not as scary as Sr. Florentine or Sister Margarete, but still probably could do some damage. So I went back through some of the rough posts and re-read them. Sort of like through the eyes of a nun. After all, I spent a few years in that habit. Plus, I didn't ask,but as someone who has eighteen years of Catholic Schools under my belt, I'm guessing I might have just as many, if not more, years of Catholic schooling. But don't quote me on that. I'm just guessing.

Anyway, I thought about changing some language, but that would change the whole tone of some of the posts. So I left it. And started saying the rosary.

Imagine my surprise when I got an email from my new BFF Sr Susan saying how much she loved reading my blog!!!!

She wrote me a wonderful note about the blog and my writing.
The extra rosaries must have did the trick!

You know, the world could use a few more angels like Sr. Susan, Sr. Audrey and Andrea. They are true Christians who walk the walk.

And you know what the song/movie says "Where Angels Go, Trouble Follows."........

Uh, that trouble would be ME!!!!

And for the record, that email is so going to be kept in the back of my mind for use when I get to the Pearly Gates. If St. Peter has to think about it, I am so going to mention that nuns liked my blog and I drive a blind lady I hardly know to get Chemo on Friday mornings after going out late with the AMG's on Thursday nights. Hey, that could be the deal changer. Hey, if it means Heaven or hell, I'm not above name/good deed dropping! Every little bit helps those of us on the cusp.

***I must be hanging with the right people because remember when I told you I was praying to the Patron St. of Computers for a new one? Well Ski called yesterday saying she got a new laptop and wanted to know if I wanted her old one. Thank you St. Charles Borromeo............Look out bloggerland, I'm coming back!!!!