I haven’t written.  Yeah…I know.  We go through this every time.  You’d think I’d learn my lesson by now, huh?

Its been a hectic holiday season and 2009, not to go out with a whimper, is still kickin my ass.

Christmas was come and gone.  The kids scored tons of loot.  More than they actually needed really…but being Americans, NOTHING can be under-done.  We are an instant gratification society, and while you’re at it….supersize that bitch for me.  You know what I mean.

But back to my thought.  The kids got loot.  Clothes, electronics, toys…the typical score.  Santa was good, parents came through & grandparents glistened.  They all got more than they actually needed, but again…AMERICAN.  Suck on that stars & stripes why dontcha!?!?!?!

They all had a good time, but there was a noticeable difference between this one & years passed.

There were no visits from Nana & Papa, courtesy of my fucktard of an asshole fucker, pissface, rotten, stinky cheese, putrid, puss-filled bunghole of a retarded fuckface brother.  Yes, I can go on…about how wonderfully amazing my 37 going on 3 year old baby brother.  There is so much dramz going on there…if I start talking about it…I’ll wind up here until I’m 72.  And fuck that shit.

Since I really can’t divulge in all the, cats & dogs…living together…mass hysteria, shit that has become my life….Christmas was overwrought with sadness, anger, angst, joy, confusion and yes…mass hysteria.

It seems like 2009 had it in for us.  No work, bad health, loved ones dying, stress, anger, frustration….I am THROUGH with this year.  2010 will see me back in my old stomping grounds for 10 LOVELY days.

Yes, in partial…I’m going there to be the heavy.  Once again, don the Evil Older Sister suit, and smack some sense into the morons.  But I’m also going to chill with the ‘rents.  All of them…whether they like it or not.  See my G-Ma, my Aunt.  Visit my girls.  And just BE…in the moment….in Miami.  WITH NO CHILDREN.

Holy Rusted Metal, Batman.

Yes, I miss it. But I love living here & wouldn’t relocate.  Visiting it is just fine.

AND FOR THOSE WHO ARE READING THIS:  DO NOT TELL MY MOTHER!!  This is a SURPRISE!! 

But anywho….I could make a long list of all the crappy things dumped into our laps this year…but DC already did it.

It’s been a while since I have published anything on this blog. There’s a a very simple reason for this, but one I’ve been reluctant to talk about publicly—I’m depressed. That’s a simplification of my emotional state for the last several months, however it is accurate.

So if you’re interested in reading more…read it there.

Christmas day was celebrated in the company of our friends and loved ones….really our family.  I read somewhere that “friends are the family that we choose for ourselves” but ANOTHER friend of mine put it much more eloquently, “friends are Gods apology for family”.

Amen to that.  Family….the ties that bind……AND GAG!!

And we’ve got proof of Santa…if you’re interested. The kids were all psyched about seeing the Jolly Old Elf in the livingroom.  I’d say this isn’t too shabby on our parts.  The oldest is 14 and STILL believes in Santa.  How f*ing cool am I?!?!?  Yes…I rock.

I’ll try to write more tomorrow.

Love,
Jenny

For those of you interested, I managed to get out of 36 and into 37 with little to no scarring.  Which is saying alot considering all the things that managed to screw me over this past year.

Got some really nice presents…right up my alley.  Flowers from both of my best friends.  Roses from Dale, an Autumn arrangement from Kris.  “Its A Wonderful Life” (complete with a silver bell, so I can hear when an Angel gets its wings) from the kids, “Gone With The Wind” collectors set from Dale’s Mom (oh how I need a big ol’ dress and plantation I can call “Tara“) & a signed version of “The Lost Symbol” by Dan Brown.  Dale owns several 1st Ed. signed copies of books by one of his favorite authors, Jasper Fforde.  He loves his collection, and I have always wanted a signed ANYTHING, so this is really cool.

I have yet to indulge in my Carvel “Turkey” cake, seeing as how I’ve been miserable sick the last few days.  I think that we’ll consume that tomorrow as we decorate our Christmas tree and put up our lights.  My niece, Sylvia Nicole, will be here Tuesday and will stay for a solid week.  Followed by Henry, his mom & my Jenny for another week-long visit.  We do get a small break in-between their departure and Christmas.  Dale’s parents and my parents are coming up on the 26th, so that should be a hoot.

37 doesn’t look too bad.  I’m only hoping that 2010 treats me & my family better than 2009 did.

To my FAVORITE ghoul,
HAPPY 57th BIRTHDAY DADDY!!

Grim Grinning Ghosts
Music by Buddy Baker  -  Lyrics by F. Alexander Atencio

Now don’t close your eyes,
And don’t try to hide.
Or a silly spook may sit by your side.
Shrouded in a daft disguise,
They pretend to terrorize.
Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize.

As the moon climbs high o’er the dead oak tree,
Spooks arrive for the midnight spree.
Creepy creeps with eerie eyes,
Start to shriek and harmonize.
Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize.

When you hear the knell of a requiem bell,
Weird glows gleam where spirits dwell.
Restless bones etherialize,
Rise as spooks of every size.

If you would like to join our jamboree,
There’s a simple rule that’s compulsory.
Mortals pay a token fee.
Rest in peace, the haunting’s free.
So hurry back, we would like your company.

A MOST HAUNTED AND HAPPY HALLOW’S EVE TO ALL MY FAVORITE GHOULS IN ALL MY FAVORITE HAUNTS!!

I must have walked under a ladder with an open umbrella stepping on a mirror and breaking it, all while Samantha (our resident black cat) walked in-front of my path.  And I’m sure there is Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” playing in the distance.

Have you ever had a day that goes from bad to worse?  Try having one of those lifetimes.  I swear, one day someone is going to recognize the amazing fact that I’ve not managed to kill myself despite the crappy life that’s been handed to me.

So I’m running late this morning (what’s new?) thanks to the inept assistance I did NOT receive at Wake Med’s ER yesterday for the most heinous migraine that I’m still enduring.  After sitting there for almost 3 hours, we left and I figured I had enough drugs in the house to either kill off the migraine or kill myself off.  Either would suffice.

As you can tell, I am still alive this morning and the migraine still persists.

Wheee.

Anywho, like I stated, I woke up late.  Which is bad today because DC had a parent conference with Jake’s teacher (which we’ve already put off twice now) so we had to get a move-on.  I’m seriously considering fixing the fucking jeep that is occupying dead space in my driveway just to have an extra car to get around in.  (That’s a WHOLE OTHER POST).

And since I had the migraine from hell yesterday, I didn’t do any of my math homework OR work on the most magnificent and terrifying Anthropology take-home mid-term, compliments of Prof. Tom Beaman.  I am not afraid of it, since I can probably answer most of this shit in my sleep.  Its the other folks who are having a hard time with it and are looking to me for assistance since I am a Paleoanthropology major.

But driving in this morning on the 540, I hear this ominous FLUMP-FLUMP-FLUMP coming from the rear of the van and Dale looks at me, “Is that our car?”  To which I reply, “We’ve got a flat in the back” and I didn’t even have to look.  How’s that for being Ken Taylor’s car-repairing daughter?

Yep, flat as a fucking pancake rear driver’s side tire.  Big ol’ hunk-a-metal stuck in it.  Probably someone else’s rim.  So we schlump into the parking lot of my school, Dale whips out the phone and makes 2 calls:  1 to Jake’s teacher, apologizing yet again (she must think we’re tree sloths at this point) for not coming in to a scheduled conference and 1 to AAA.  Thank the maker that I had presence of mind to keep renewing that bad puppy. 

So he’s in the lot right now getting a tow to the tire shop.  I’m in the library working on said Anthro mid-term and now having to book it to History to listen to how awful we ALL did on HIS mid-term last week.

I’m hoping to step on sidewalk cracks, find another ladder to walk under.  I wish Samantha was here too.  She’d give added Halloween effect.

The Universe works in mysterious ways, it truly does.  I am a firm believer in that.

October is my favorite month.  Its filled with great fall weather, leaves changing colors, jack’o'lanterns, scary movies, cute costumes and birthdays.

In 1987, I met that kid right there on the right.  Being the social butterfly that I am, I practically bullied him into being my friend.  This was his Senior year at MSSH.  That June, I happened to meet his parents.

You don’t think that you’re looking at your future in-laws unless you’ve been dating one another forever.  You also don’t look at them and know that one day they’ll be your children’s grandparents.  Cause when you’re in high school, who thinks about that?

Today is Grandpa Dennis’ birthday.  Claudia, Gabe, Lea and Jake were never able to meet their Grandpa.  I think its ironic that Dale used to call him Papa…and our children call him Papa.  But in that good ironic way. 

Its sad that they’ll never get to hear Grandpa sing.  They won’t get to listen to him tell a story.  To go fly kites with him at the beach.  To get caught up in tickle matches at bedtime.  To get Grandpa hugs & kisses galore.

I know he was an amazing Dad to my Dale, thus he would have been an amazing Father-In-Law, and a stellar Grandpa to the Zoo.

Its always sad that we didn’t get enough time.  But I have to believe that he’s always here…watching over us…sending down his everlasting love and understanding, his patience and kindness, his brilliance and humor.

Happy Birthday, Papa Dennis.

With Much Love,

My Fair Lady.  The epitome of grandeur, poise and intellect; infused with a touch of commonness, elegance and love.

Yeah…I’m a romantic.  So sue me.  The football girl has a girlie-girl interior, albeit a small portion…its there nonetheless.

But this post isn’t about My Fair Lady, Rex Harrison, Audrey Hepburn or me, myself and I.

Its about those morons I lovingly call my children.  And yes, they know how to speak….but following through on a chore?  That, my dear reader, is a horse of a different color.

The battle lines have been drawn.  I am planning a blitzkrieg offensive of the massive I-will-conquer-your-ass kind of warfare.

I am serious as cancer and twice as deadly.  Hell hath no fury than Jen pissed off.  And man oh man am I furious as a filibuster tonight.  Its a good thing I have a quasi-level head or there would be dead children at the base of the staircase.

I don’t ask for much.  I really don’t.  Keep your room clean.  Make your bed when you get up.  Don’t leave your towels all over the floor.  Don’t leave your crap strewn all through the house.  Wipe up the counter after you’re done brushing your teeth.  If you want to clean, please be my guest.  The only way you’re going to learn is by trial and error.  BUT…if you cook, you must clean up after yourself.

This last one NEVER gets done.  And I do mean never.  Now I talked to them the other day and fully explained EXACTLY how it should be done.  And did it get done tonight when they cooked AND (because I’m a nice Mom and bought them the cookie dough…of which the teen ate a sizable portion…) made cookies? 

HELL SHIT DAMN NO.

I am really tired of talking.  Of patiently explaining to them that there is a method to my madness.  That it is my job as the female parental unit…to train them to be decent, tidy, law abiding, upstanding citizens in these United States.  They just don’t get it.

So here I sit, my dear reader, trying to let the steam out for fear of possibly slaughtering the babes that once had I intensely nurtured.  I’m talking Leatherface Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Jason Vorhees hockey mask machete chopping, Michael Meyers babysitter brain-crushing, Freddy Krueger knife gloved dream invading, death.

Yeah…I’m just a tad peeved.

Alright…football has ended for the night.  Lost one game, won another.  Its going to be a looooooooong NFL season.

Hey…maybe there is some kind of football murder I can come up with.  I’ll have to look into that and get back to you.  Until then…..Bonne nuit, cher lecteur (Good night, dear reader).

Granted, I’m not a fan of homework.  Well…of MY homework that is.  For the kids?  OH HELL YEAH.  BRING IT.  But for me….not so much.

Yeah…I’ve been in school now for about a month.  And sure, I’ve had homework.  I’ve got Algebra & French for 2 of the 4 classes.  Show me a 5-day-a-week class teacher who doesn’t assign homework & I’ll show you a cat with bad breath.

Its like Catholics without guilt, Scots without a drink.  (Shut it…I’m both, so I can rag).   The thing that separates this weekend from the others?

History.  2 papers worth.  WTF?!?!?

I have 2…yes, TWO papers due Thursday.  And since I have shit-megaton of homework for Algebra & French EVERY DAY….I figured out I’d knock both history papers out this weekend.

Easier said than done.

Yeah, I like to write.  But I like to write crap, I LIKE.  And stop with the “Hey!  I thought you dug history” looks.  Yeah…I DO like history.  But I also like watching boxing.  Doesn’t mean I wanna get punched in the face though.

So 2 papers.  One of them is for my oral presentation on Thursday (I’m writing it on the Zimmermann Telegram…don’t know what that is?  THEN OPEN A HISTORY BOOK!!) and the other is on the writings of Booker T. Washington & W.E.B. Du Bois, a comparative essay.

So here I sit…in massive pain (I can’t play Rock Band anymore without hurting myself…and yes, I WAS downstairs playing….shut it MOM!!), trying to figure out how to begin.

I think I’ll do the Zimmermann paper, the French take-home quiz (I LOVE IT WHEN SHE DOES THAT!!) and the algebra homework.  I’ll save the comparative essay for Tuesday night.

Hey….a girls gotta chill.  And besides…..it ain’t like Booker T. or Du Bois are going anywhere in a hot minute.  AND…tonight is my True Blood season finale.  I need to get my Eric fix. 

OK…time for this girl to chill in a cool bath.    Until later…..

-Jen…signing off.

Charles, Leslie, Zoe & Dana Falkenberg

Charles and Leslie boarded American Airlines Flight 77 with their two daughters, Zoe & Dana, en route to Canberra, Australia, for what family members said was a dream, working vacation. Leslie, who was an associate professor at Georgetown was going for a short stint as a visiting fellow at Australian National University at Canberra. She was bringing her family down under for a once-in-a-lifetime trip. They had just moved out of their home, in fact they spent their last few days before 9/11 in a hotel, and upon their return to the states, were moving into a new house in Chevy Chase.

To help cope with the grief of losing an entire family, the girl’s grandparents have asked people who wish to remember the Falkenbergs, to plant Zinnias, Zoe’s favorite flower.

Years ago, my family and I planted zinnias under an arch of jasmine. Each year they bloom stronger, larger, and more beautiful than before…

You will always be in my thoughts & prayers.

Years ago, my family & I moved from Los Angeles to Raleigh.  Instantly we became involved with our community & as such…we came to become part of the Muccio family.  Rob was like a father to me & D, beloved Uncle Rob to the kids.  Lou became my brother, Deb a mom & friend.

I also gained a whole other family…and instantly became directly connected to 9/11.

Every morning, Mark Zangrilli would get ready for work and kiss his wife and two sons good-bye, being careful not to wake them as he left for work in New York City.

Every evening, he would call his wife, Jill, around 7 p.m. from the Lincoln Park train station to let her know he was on his way home.

“We would always wait for him by the door,” Jill said. “Every day was a celebration.”

But on Sept. 11, everything fell out of routine.

Mark had an early meeting scheduled and was rushing around the house getting ready. His sons, Alexander, 3, and Nicholas, 11/2, were awake and upset that he was leaving, so he sneaked out of the house without saying good-bye.

“It was the first time in 14 years he didn’t get to say good-bye,” Jill said.

Mark, 36, of Pompton Plains, died in the terrorist attacks at the World Trade Center. He was attending a meeting at Aon Corp. at Two World Trade Center when a hijacked plane hit the tower.

Mark, who worked for AXA Corporate on Water Street, left a message on the answering machine after the first plane hit.

“He said they were going to start evacuating the 105th floor and he would call me soon as he got down,” Jill said.

More than 80 family members and friends scoured hospitals and lists of survivors on the Internet looking for Mark with no success, Jill said.

Mark was born in Passaic and raised in Pequannock before moving to Lincoln Park 14 years ago. The family moved to Pompton Plains in January.

Mark graduated from the New Jersey Institute of Technology with a chemical engineering degree in 1987. He worked as an insurance underwriter for Kemper National Insurance Co. at the World Trade Center for 12 years. He helped evacuate several employees out of their office after the 1993 bombing in the Trade Center basement.

“His former co-workers have sent e-mails talking about how well he handled it,” Jill said. “He was the last one off the floor.”

Mark’s weekends were dedicated to his family, taking his sons everywhere with him to run errands.

I never knew Mark.  But Rob, Deb & Lou spoke of his kindness and faithfulness to everyone.  At Rob’s funeral earlier this year, I met my “extended family” and they too remarked on how wonderful he was.

I wish we could have known you.

For Mark, Zoe & Dana…

Happy 22nd Anniversary, DC.

Thank you, for everything you’ve done for me,
the heathens & the minions.

I love you.

Love,