She's Fine

Whew! Marina is home and just fine! One of the veterinary assistants told us that Marina is the sweetest kitten, and that made me feel good.

Ted took her in this morning and Alex and I picked her up late this afternoon. I was just about going crazy in the waiting room. There were three ANNOYING pre-teens in there, waiting for their mother and their hamster. They were playing with all the dogs that were brought in and were waiting to be seen. They were running in and out of the office, and going back by the exam rooms. They were getting in the way of the other people who were there and basically driving me crazy. Alex would look at me and just grin...he knew what I was thinking. I even whispered to him that the kids were annoying.

We must have waited there for almost an hour before they called us back to talk to the vet. Have I ever mentioned that I just LOVE our vet??? He is absolutely wonderful with Pepina and Marina and us too. He talked to us about her bloodwork (just fine) and showed us and explained her x-rays (also just fine). He talked a little about the actual procedure and said that it took about 20 minutes, and that she was actually under the anesthetic for about 30 minutes. He said he took out her uterus and her ovaries and that there are three layers of stitches, two internal that will dissolve, and one exterior set that will need to be removed in 10-14 days. He also said that they put two tubes down her throat (that news made me cringe a little...she has a teeny tiny throat) during the surgery.

Of course I called them around 11 am to see if she had been done yet and how she was doing. They said she had been done and was sleeping. They also told me that she had gotten through it just fine. Poor little thing...I'm such a freaking wimp.

Anyway, she's resting now, but slowly walked around a little before settling down. She's not interested in drinking or eating anything. The vet said to offer her about a fourth of what she normally eats later on tonight, then her regular amount starting tomorrow morning. I have a feeling that she will drink if I give her a little water downed milk, so I may do that later on.

I'm just so relieved that she made it through everything alright.

I'm Struggling

This Friday Marina will go to our vet's office....and be spayed. I realize that this should be a very simple cut and dried procedure, but I'm really struggling with it.

When Pepina was spayed it was not a big deal. I made Ted take her in that morning and I picked her up late that afternoon. I wasn't crazy about the fact that we had to take her food and water away at 10 pm the night before, but we did it and she handled it. I called the office a little after 11 am that day and asked how she had gotten through the procedure and they told me that they were just getting started on her because their power had been out for a few hours. Without even thinking, I just blurted out, "But she hasn't had anything to eat or drink for 13 hours! She'll be dehydrated!" The woman was wonderful with me and assured me that she would be fine and told me to call back in an hour. I did, and they said she had made it through just fine. When I went to pick her up, our vet talked to me first, then I went out and paid the bill, and then they brought her to me. She looked so darn pathetic. I felt SO bad for her. We got out into the car and I was crying on the way home...I just couldn't handle it very well. When we finally got here (about 4 minutes later) I got her out of her carrier and thoroughly inspected her. Her little tummy was all shaved and I didn't like that, but I knew it had to be done. She finally ate a little bit and drank some water, and then just laid around. She was totally out of character. Over the next week or so she was able to jump up onto things, but couldn't jump down. She would "meow" until we got her down, even from the chair to the floor. She ended up with a respiratory infection and had to go on an antibiotic. The vet said that she probably caught it when she was in getting spayed. She just never quite returned to her playful self. She'll still play, but it's not like it was before. That sort of made me sad.

I know that the responsible thing is to have Marina spayed, but I don't want her personality to change from the hyper little thing she is now to a laid back kitty. I don't want her to have to go through the procedure, being put under, having surgery, and not being able to jump around like crazy for a week or so. I don't want to have to be on the lookout for a possible respiratory infection. This was scheduled for August 24, but I called and talked to the office woman and told her that I wasn't ready to do it.

The staff at the office is absolutely WONDERFUL! She told me that it wasn't a problem and that if I was having any doubts, I should go ahead and postpone it. She told me that I could even come in and talk to the doctor about it if I wanted. They must be used to "emotional" mommies. I told her that I just wanted a little more time, so it was rescheduled for this Friday.

I am completely aware of the fact that this NEEDS to be done, that we have to have it done for her and for our piece of mind, but it doesn't mean that I like it. The poor little thing doesn't even have any say in it. I just don't want her to be in pain. And then there's the look. When I go to pick her up, I just hope she doesn't look at me with those eyes that say, "You betrayed me."

Okay, I'm a wimp and I know it. When it comes to my "girls" I spoil them a little.

Friday will be a tough day and I'll probably have to call the vet's office a few times, for my own sanity. Thank goodness we have phones in our classrooms, that's all I can say.

And for the record...her nickname is "MiMi."

Italian Cooking

I was recently in a discussion with someone and the subject of cooking came up. Lasagna was mentioned, and she mentioned how simple and easy it was to make. I just looked at her. Then I commented that she obviously didn't make it from scratch. She insisted that she did....using store bought noodles, jarred sauce, a container of ricotta cheese, Kraft shredded mozzarella cheese and ground beef.

NO NO NO NO NO

That is NOT how you make lasagna. It's a 2 day affair to make it the right way, and I even cheat a little.

I was the first grandchild for my italian grandparents, so I was also the first one to graduate from high school. My mom went to my grandparents' house a couple of weeks before graduation to help my grandma make lasagna for my "big event". Grandma, naturally, had done a lot of stuff the day before, so that day it was basically just grating and putting it all together. Mom also helped Grandma when my brother graduated, and by then everyone just expected there to be homemade lasagna at his party. When my oldest cousin was ready to graduate, I decided to go up to Grandma's and help make it. It was the least I could do. WHAT A CHORE! I just hope Davene (my cousin) appreciated it!

Anyway...on the first day you make homemade sauce. After the sauce is going, you make meatballs and let them cook in the sauce. While that is going on, you hard boil some eggs. Yes, you read that right...hard boiled eggs. That's the "secret ingredient" in my Grandma's lasagna.

To make things a little easier on yourself, you can do a little more on the first day, like take the big hunk of mozzarella cheese that you got at the deli and shred it, using a grater. You can also take the hunk of parmesan and do the same thing. At the end of the day, you take the meatballs out of the sauce and refrigerate them, along with the hard boiled eggs, and the sauce. Of course the cheese needs to be in the fridge too.

On the second day you get the meatballs out of the refrigerator and grate them with the grater. If you use a food processor, they can come out too fine, but if that's how you like it, then go for it.

While you have the grater out, peel and grate the hard boiled eggs. I use about six for one tray of lasagna.

After that you either make the noodles or boil the store bought ones. I use store bought because I don't have enough confidence in myself to make my own yet, although I do have a pasta machine and may give it a try someday. Grandma made her own, but that's a post for another day.

Once the noodles are cooked, you drain them, then dry them thoroughly with paper towels. They can't be wet at all.

Then you set up your assembly line.

I used to do this at my dining room table in our old house, but now I can do it in my kitchen because I have more counter space.

You start with sauce on the bottom of the pan. Then put down a layer of noodles. Add a little more sauce, spreading it with the back of the ladle. The meat goes on next, spreading it around, but not too thick. You should still be able to see the noodles. After that, sprinkle just a little bit of the hard boiled egg. (Believe me, you can't detect the taste of egg in this lasagna. I have no idea why you can't taste it, but you can't....and one time I made it without the egg and it just didn't taste the same.) The next step is to add mozzarella, then parmesan. On top of that, you put a little more sauce.

Then you start over.

Noodles.
Sauce.
Meat.
Egg.
Mozzarella.
Parmesan.
Sauce.

And repeat.

(There's NO ricotta cheese in the lasagna I learned to make.)

Do as many layers as your pan will hold, finishing up with a layer of noodles and sauce. When it's all finished, I add a little extra sauce to the corners (per Grandma's orders) so that they don't dry out.

When I make lasagna, I usually prepare enough "stuff" to make at least three trays. I'm NOT going to go through all that for just one.

When I freeze it, and it freezes well, I wrap it all up in plastic wrap, then put foil on top of that, and then wrap it with the white freezer wrap. It'll stay for ages that way in the freezer. I've kept one tray as long as a year in the freezer and it came out just fine.

It's time consuming and really messy, but it's so worth it in the end. The first year that I hosted Christmas I was pregnant with Joey (almost 21 years ago!) and I made lasagna. My mom came and helped me. We did it about a week before and then froze it. Of course on December 23 I went into a panic and worried that I didn't have enough, so I made more sauce, more meatballs, and another tray of lasagna. On Christmas Day when we all sat down to eat, I announced that I was fixing a steak for myself. I was NOT in the mood to even LOOK at anything italian by that point! (As a little side note, I had MORE than enough and we had lasagna coming out of our ears for the next month! Also...and this is a biggie....GRANDMA APPROVED OF THE LASAGNA! I was so freaking proud of myself!)

This is my Grandma when she was in the nursing home. We would go up and visit her as often as we could and she just loved seeing Joey and Alex. This picture was taken around December of 1993, two years before she passed away. Fortunately both boys remember her, and they brought her so much joy.

So if you have nothing to do and have a real craving for lasagna, go for it! It will make you appreciate italian food even more than you already do!

Our Great Nephew

Michael was born on March 19, eight weeks premature. He has come SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO far! He is five and a half months old now, and has completely caught up! He's also absolutely adorable! He has been on vacation to Myrtle Beach and has attended other social functions. Isn't he absolutely ADORABLE???

Comments

Several of you "lurkers" have emailed me about the frustration you've experienced in trying to leave a comment here.

You do NOT need to register to comment. You can type a comment in the comment box, then type in the "code" and then click "Anonymous" and that's it. If you are going the "Anonymous" route, you can put your name at the end of the actual comment in the comment box.

It will show up as "Anonymous said..." but the actual comment will contain your name IF YOU REMEMBER TO ADD IT TO YOUR COMMENT.

So now there's no excuse NOT to occasionally leave a comment....let's hear what you have to say! I was really hoping to hear what you readers thought about the possibility of changing the spelling of my name.

Hopefully you "lurkers" will say something now!

Mirrors

Mirrors. I hate them.

I avoid them as much as possible.

When most people wash their hands in a bathroom, they can't help but glance up at the mirror on the wall. Most of the time (like about 95%) I just refuse to look up. Looking in a mirror just makes me cringe. I've never been confident about my looks so why go through the agony of looking up and criticizing myself?

Then there's the rest of me.

In 1987 I had a c-section. The incision was vertical. There was a nice big scar from that.

In 1990 I had another c-section. My doctor followed the same line to make the incision. The scar was a little bit bigger.

In 2002 I had a hysterectomy. My doctor once again followed the same line. The scar was a little bigger, but then there were some complications with my incision. I had a 3"-4" section that became infected and needed to be cut open again. That part of the scar was wider than the rest.

In 2005 I had colon cancer. My surgeon not only followed the line from my previous abdominal surgeries, but extended it up a few more inches. He also cut out a hole on my left side, a few inches over from my vertical incision. The hole was big enough for my colostomy.

In 2006 I had surgery to reverse my colostomy. The good old abdominal incision was extended a little more. There is a scar from where the hole for my colostomy was stitched together. Naturally there were a few problems with that incision as it healed, so it's a little lumpy and wider and darker in a couple of places.

When we built our home we put a big mirror up in our bathroom. WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING?!?!?!

When I get out of the shower I can't help but glance in the mirror. I see my scars and cringe. There's a 4" scar on my left side that looks really crummy. It's at an angle. Then I have a scar that starts about 4" above my belly button and goes all the way down, and I don't think I need to be any more specific than that. There were about 60 staples in it from my last surgery, so that gives you an idea about how long it is.

Ted is wonderful about the scars. Whenever I mention them, he says such kind things and can usually make me feel a little better. He was the one who took care of all the dressing changes and cleaning of them, so he feels that he has an investment of sorts in them.

Anyway, they're long, ugly, bumpy, uneven, purplish and they're mine. I hate them. But they're here to stay. Every once in a while when I see them, I really start to feel down about them, and need to "snap out of it" and count my blessings.

After all, they are a part of who I am and what I have been through in my life.

Oh heck, maybe I should just get a huge tattoo to disguise them and get it over with.

My Grandpa

My maternal grandfather would have turned 110 the other day, however he passed away shortly after his 86th birthday.

Grandpa arrived in the U.S. from Italy on July 3, 1905 when he was 7 years old. He and his family came through Ellis Island. They left Rivisondoli and traveled to Naples where they boarded a ship that held 12oo passengers. I have no idea how long the trip to America took and I wish I had taken the time to talk to him about this when he was still with us. All he ever told me was that he was a young boy and could speak and understand NO English when he arrived.

His family settled in northeast Ohio, and I'm not really sure why. I don't know if they already had family there or not. Again, I regret not finding out from him. There were many Italian families that settled there for some reason, and many of them "hung out" together, possibly discussing their transition from Italian life to American life.

Ironically, when they lived their "every day life" no one else in the community spoke in Italian to them, nor did they have signs printed in Italian. My grandfather, his siblings, and my great grandparents had no choice but to learn the English language and learn it quickly since interpreters were not provided for them either.

And they did.

They never complained about it either. They knew that if they wanted to live here in the good old U. S. of A. then they had to learn and understand the language and laws as quickly as possible.

This is not to say that they let their heritage fall by the wayside....they kept up their traditions and customs, but they still were able to adapt to the culture of the United States.

Hmmm...imagine that.

After Grandpa married Grandma (whose family also came from Italy right before she was born), they continued with Italian customs. Grandma was one of the founding members of a group called the "Liberty Club" in their community. This club was made up of women who came to America from Italy and celebrated both their Italian heritage and their good fortune to be living in the United States. The group was very active in the community and raised funds for many causes. It wasn't hard since they usually just had to make and sell Italian cookies, elephant ears, or other Italian dishes. I really don't need to mention that they were all FABULOUS cooks and their recipes were passed down through generations and were not written down.

I remember my mother telling me many, many years ago that one day my Grandpa decided that my Grandma should teach their three children the Italian language. Grandma spent all day teaching them some Italian words and was so proud when Grandpa walked in the door and the kids were able to say something to him in Italian. Imagine her surprise when Grandpa said that she had NOT taught them Italian! She insisted that she did and he continued to tell her that she DIDN'T. It turns out that since Grandpa was from southern Italy and Grandma's family was from northern Italy, they spoke different dialects of the language. Shortly thereafter Grandma told Grandpa that if he wanted the kids to learn Italian then HE would have to teach them. Unfortunately they never really learned the language, but they were able to master a few words here and there.

I can recall spending a good bit of time at my grandparents' house while we lived in the same community. I always had a great time there. My grandpa would come into the kitchen at 8:00 every morning and sit down at the table. He never said "good morning" or anything else. He just sat down and waited for his coffee and breakfast to be served, and of course Grandma served it to him. At exactly 12:00 noon, it was a repeat performance for lunch, and then again at 5:00 pm.

With every meal, Grandpa would pour himself a shot of whiskey and have a glass of wine, without fail.

Grandpa also rolled his own cigarettes. I remember watching him, just being mesmerized with the process of seeing him lay out the thin paper, put the tobacco in, roll it up, lick the long edge like an envelope to get it to stick together, then wet the ends and twist them. Then he would put it in his mouth and light it and smoke it. Of course this was all before the bad stuff about smoking all came out. He eventually gave up "rolling his own" and moved on to smoking Camels.

He was bull headed. There was his way...and his way. I was their first grandchild, so I pretty much could get away with just about anything HOWEVER, I was also a good kid and really never got into any trouble. I NEVER took advantage of that first grandchild privilege. Really. I didn't. Not at all.

My Grandpa died on a Monday. He was upstairs in the bathroom getting ready to come down to dinner. Grandma called for him when he didn't show up at the table on time, and when he didn't answer, she went upstairs to tell him, and found him already gone on the bathroom floor.

The ironic thing was that Ted and I had just bought our first house and we had been working on it before we moved in. Grandma had sent me a cashier's check as a housewarming gift and wrote in a note to use the money for whatever we needed for the new house. In capital letters AND underlined, she had written NO THANK YOU NOTE. I chuckled at that because I knew that meant that Grandpa didn't know about it and was NOT to know about it. I had had a class right after school, so it was after 5:30 pm by the time I had gotten the mail and read this note from her. I called my mom to tell her about it and that was when she told me what had happened to Grandpa. She and Dad were just getting ready to leave to go Grandma's (which was a little over an hour away).

I'm so thankful that I got to know my Grandpa. I wasn't that fortunate with my paternal Grandpa as he was killed in an industrial accident before my parents got married.

I'm sure that both of my Grandpas are keeping an eye on all of us from heaven, and I'm really thankful for that.

Labor Day Weekend

Yep, I had BIG plans for this weekend....BIG PLANS. Unfortunately the weekend is going by a little faster than I had planned.

Yesterday morning Ted and Alex left for Gettysburg. It's a place where Ted likes to go, being the Civil War buff that he is. I've been there twice in my life (once with my parents and brother and believe it or not, Ted and I stopped there for a couple of days on our honeymoon). BOTH times we had car trouble. I won't be going back. To me, if you've seen one Civil War battlefield, you've seen them all. I know that's not absolutely right, but it's just not my idea of a great vacation. Lucky for Ted, Alex will go just about anywhere and seems to have an interest in history.

My plans for the weekend were to clean out my closet and go through all my clothes, getting rid of the ones that I don't wear anymore or that, ahem, don't fit. Then I was going to dust our bedroom. Okay, so that should be done every week, but it's not. It's done very rarely. Housekeeping is just NOT one of my strengths. Then I was going to sit back and watch DVDs, whether it be Dallas, Miami Vice, or Grey's Anatomy. I also wanted to fit in some pool time, not to mention getting the laundry done and the kitchen straightened up.

Well....I spent a little bit of time at my folks' yesterday, plugging in their printer and getting their antivirus straightened out. They got a new computer and I hooked it all up last weekend, but forgot to do a few things. But it all worked out and I finished it up yesterday. Thank goodness that they are patient!

Five minutes after I got home, I was in the pool. I swam and floated for a little over 2 and a half hours. The water was nice and warm, but the air was a little on the cool side. While watching TV last night I went through all 12 storage boxes of my clothes. I'm getting rid of about 1/3 of them. Right now the boxes are sitting around the bedroom, just waiting to be put away. I was too tired to do that last night. I still need to go through the dresser and then the worst part...all the stuff that's hanging up. It could be a LONG day!

I've discovered over the years that you have to be in the right frame of mind to go through your clothes. You have to be in a "throw away" mood, and definitely can NOT be sentimental. I was real honest with myself yesterday. "Have I worn this in the past year?" "Does this really fit or does it not?" "Do I have anything to wear this with?" "Does this still look nice and not worn out by a million washings?" If I answered NO to any of those questions, it got tossed in the pile to go to either the trash or Goodwill.

I have decided over the years that I don't mind working 5 days a week, but I just need a THREE DAY WEEKEND!!