Busy Busy Busy

So this weekend our house was buzzing with people. First was Saturday, Mom's birthday. She's half of 114 years-old now! Wow. Twelve of us went out to Famous Dave's Barbeque and ate like pigs (well, some of us did, anyway).
Then on Sunday Joey was baptized. We had even more poeple over for lunch and a HUGE cake. It was a great weekend. Check out the slide shows on the right for the nearly 200 photos I took between the two days!

Oh...and then my Dad and I got really sick. Oh well.

BABY!!!

The Votes Are In

So it looks like:

a) most people who voted liked chocolate chip cookies the best and
b) not a lot of people voted.

So here's a new one for you...

February 7th marked the 44th anniversary of the Beatles arrival in America! In honor of that, tell us who your favorite Beatle is!

By the way, we went easy on you, you can vote for more than one this time.

You Never Know

I was asked to photograph a memorial service this past weekend (that was already wierd enough) and something interesting happened.

As I'm standing in the church I heard tires screech and a loud bang that shook the building. We all ran outside and this is what we saw:

Apparently the driver just lost control of his car and drove right up the sidewalk and up the steps right into the wall of our church. That's something you don't see everyday!

Benvenuti Al Sinagra La Perla Del Nebrodi

One great source of joy in my life is that fact that I am an Italian. I realize that I had little or nothing to do with this fact. To be sure, my parents had very little control over it as well. I’m sure my mom and dad would have enjoyed having a little Irish boy (think of they fun they’d have with an accent like that) or maybe a Korean (I would have done much better in math). But as the Lord would have it they were forced to have an Italian son. I don’t doubt that their parents faced similar limitations with their choices in children.

But growing up Italian has some great advantages. The first one that comes to mind is being the first kid in my 6th grade class to need a shave. Come to think of it I was the also the first one in my 7th grade class to need a shave…oh, and the 8th grade too.

Another advantage to being an Italian kid is never running out of new family members to meet. I’m thirty now, and I’m still not all together sure that I have met all of the cousins, aunts, uncles, great-aunts, great-uncles, and second-cousins that fill my family tree. The Sinagra-Oreste family is spread far and wide across America and I’m pretty sure we’ve got somebody living over-seas (don’t we?). When I was a boy my parents never actually took me or Jeanna, my sister, to a wedding but they regularly brought us to wakes and funerals. In a family our size someone passed away about every three months. My parents would bring us with a few toys and some drawing paper. Jeanna and I would sit around, not knowing anybody, and my parents would bring us over to who I can only assume were random elderly people they found outside and say things like, “You remember Aunt So-And-So, don’t you? She’s Uncle So-And-So’s wife and Cousin So-And-So’ sister and your third Cousin So-And-So’s grandmother!” We’d smile and nod without a clue as to what was going on. These old women were typically the widows of the man in the casket at the previous wake. One of the down sides of being an Italian male is that your natural life will run out long before your wife’s, leaving her behind to torment your children for decades to come.

Being an Italian boy, especially the first-born son, also gives you exclusive rights to the “Momma’s Boy” title. Being the Momma’s Boy means not having fun at sleepovers, wanting to go home from school early everyday, and completely flipping out when another kid made fun of your mother. Membership has its privileges. I had the added bonus of having my mom work in the same building as I did when I was in second grade. I used to ask to go to the bathroom and then go find my mom instead. I’m not sure I ever saw the inside of the restroom that year.

As I grew up I realized that being an Italian meant other things as well. It meant putting great importance on family. I can think of few things that my parents ever put before family, unless it was other family. My godfather, Uncle Dom (hi), is a living example of this, and so is my cousin Kevin on my dad’s side. They would both give you the shirt off their back. And when and Jess and I take the kids to New York to visit, family shows up from as far away as Connecticut and Virginia to see us. It’s like the Pope is coming to town. And of course with every family gathering there is another very important thing in the life of an Italian – food.

It seems today, eating has become synonymous with fueling. Stop. Fill up. Go. But food was not meant to be eaten in your SUV as you sit in traffic talking on your Bluetooth on the way to work. For Italians food is much more than that. Meals, especially good ones, are a time to come together. Sometimes, if the meal is good enough, it becomes a reason in itself for a gathering. In an Italian home meals are a time to share stories, to laugh and maybe to fight, but the food is always a focal point for the family. For an Italian, food can bring back tearful memories of childhood, vacations, loved ones, old friends, holidays, and far away places. I spent two years as a vegetarian. When my father told my Grandma Mille that I wasn’t eating meat anymore, she said, “I’m so sorry” in a voice normally reserved for tragic deaths.

Another advantage to being Italian is not having to worry about a natural death. When my wife, Jess, and I were getting married we had to make a family tree for the marriage class and list the cause of death for each person. I had very few family members who actually succumbed to old age. The cause of death ranged from murder to mistaken death followed by an autopsy. I think Jess was starting to get a little scared.

When I went away to college I left my small town home on Long Island and discovered the world was not comprised entirely of Italian Americans. I came into contact will a myriad of different cultures and practices. I found that a lot the things that I was taught to value simply aren’t important to others. My freshman year I had a roommate who couldn’t understand why I refused to eat at more than half of the pizza places in Philly. The fact that Philly’s pizza sauce tasted like fish and vinegar hardly seemed to matter to him. He was also shocked to learn that I had never heard of pierogies, scrapple, or cream-chipped beef. I spent a good portion of my time in college trying to explain why wet flat pretzels are not nearly as good as the ones you get from Manhattans vendors. Philly’s famous pretzels? Please! I once brought a half a dozen classmates to Manhattan to show them what a potato knish was. I also had a boss in Philly who told me he had never eaten pizza until he went to college! (He was from Idaho or Iowa or one of those flat square states.) I think growing up four out of seven meals a week had tomato sauce involved.

I’ve had to explain to friends why I go home to visit family so often. I’ve been shocked to learn that people go entire months without calling their mothers! And some people just have family they simply don’t see or even talk to anymore. I haven’t let anyone speak ill of my family since high school. I may be allowed to say something about my sister…but I nearly pounded a kid on bus one day when he said something about her. I’ve had a heck of a time trying to explain the Godfather to my friends. They just don’t understand.

My wife is not Italian (we can’t all be perfect, her parent’s didn’t opt for the Italian daughter) but she’s been getting a crash course in Italian culture over the last eleven years. I think she’s starting to catch on. My hope is that as my children grow up they’ll learn to value these things as well. They are at least half Italian even if they don’t look like it (all blond hair and blue eyes). I hope to see them some Christmas day with their kids sitting around a crowded dinner table yelling conversations out over the din of family commotion. Food and family. Now that’s Italian.

Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean!

I decided I was going to grow my hair until it was long enought to put into a ponytail...it didn't last. (I'm sorry I didn't wear a shirt for these shots.)

The girls handeled it pretty well. Rosemary was a little upset but Carmellina thought nothing of it. Joey just laughed a baby laugh. I guess he's just happy to not be the person with the least hair anymore.

Now whenever Carmellina sees me she asks, "Daddy, do you still have your bulbed head on?"

Roll Over Beethoven!

Big news in baby-land.

Joey rolled over for the first time on Saturday!

(Next thing you know he'll be driving.)

Cleanliness

The January polls are closed. This month 13 whole people voted. Looks like showering every day did not come out a winner in the end!

There were some accusations of the vote being fixed, but we're going to decline to comment on that one.

Be sure to vote in February's poll!

Viol-initiation

The Bible says that "For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it."

On a similar note (ha)...Rosemary got her first violin today.













We took her to a little shop in Bryn Mawr (almost an hour from South Philly) run by a very helpful and very serious little Asian woman named Kot.

She plays a 1/16 violin. Apparently they come in sizes that get bigger with the child, who knew?

So now we get to listen to her practice 20 minutes a day from now until she gets to Carnegie Hall.

Carmellina And The Panda Parade

Rosemary has started taking violin lessons.
We're trying to interest Carmellina in playing something musical as well.
This is her vision.

It's In Her Blood

Jess and I have decided not to push the kids into the arts simply because we're interested in them. Nevertheless, they seem to be innately prone to them. In fact, today, as I was working on a portrait commission, Rosemary stood next to me and said, "Dad, when I grow up, I'm going to be an artist just like you."
Poor thing...does she know she's going to be broke all the time, too?

A Little Bit Of Sunshine

Here's a little something to make you smile.

The Big Three Oh!

Well, it finally happened. I did what I could to prevent it but in the end I was powerless to stop it. This July I turned 30.

I don’t mind it; really, it’s just another number in the end. I’ve often heard the adage about being “young at heart,” actually I think that was Sinatra and not really an adage. Nevertheless, I think there’s a lot of truth in that. I know many people who have been “old at heart” long before they hit 30. Then there are people like me who still think the whoopee cushion is man’s greatest achievement since the pyramids.

One difficult thing about 30 is being a High School teacher. When I was in my 20’s I was able to develop friendships with many of my students. After all, I was only a few years older and many of them even had siblings my age. It didn’t matter that I was 29, when they asked how old I was, all they heard was, “I’m in my 20’s.” Now that I’m just barely 30 years old (okay almost 30 and ½) all they hear is, “I’m in my 30’s.” “Well,” they must think, “that’s almost 40.”

But so what, right? I don’t need those guys. I have plenty of friends; friends who were there for me (all two of them) to share my celebratory 30th birthday fajita at Don Pablo’s. Friends who are no longer able to stay out past 10:30 pm. Friends whose stomachs can’t take roller coasters or bacon cheese burgers anymore. Friends who share my elation for coupon day, filing income tax forms and staff meetings. Good friends.

I am not alone in my family, either. I have one cousin who is still four days older than me (hi Dee!) and another who is only a few months behind me (hi Lisa!) who shared this milestone with me. I’m sure their celebration was every bit as thrilling as mine (how was Manhattan Lisa?)

While it’s true that I have no emotional stress about being 30, I think my body has decided to just start packing things in. In fact, I think my body is trying to sabotage itself. Apparently it’s angry at me for something I did to it in my childhood, and it can really hold a grudge. For one thing, it has starting sprouting hair in places that have no plausible function in life; places like my ear and back. Last time I got a haircut the girls started shaving the back of my neck and kept going down until she saw my belt. I have also weighed in at my all time high at 185 lbs (although that was during Christmas). My feet hurt all day regardless of what kind of orthopedic contraption I put on them or under them. Also, when we go out to eat, I need to start planning around my stomach’s extra curricular activities. I even find myself drinking soy and rice milk, craving bean sprouts, and raving about tofu dogs. The days of midnight cheese steaks and Mountain Dew for breakfast are rapidly disappearing.

But with age comes wisdom and that means I’m getting smarter…I think. In these past 30 years I’ve learned many valuable life lessons. The kind of lessons a father and teacher, such as myself, is dutifully bound to pass on. I’ve learned what happens when you put a marshmallow in a microwave. I’ve learned why you shouldn’t touch exposed electrical wires in a wall outlet. I’ve learned what happens when you put a firecracker in a teddy bear and how to escape form an erupting volcano. I’ve also learned very useful life skills like juggling scarves, several yo-yo tricks, how to pull a quarter out of an ear and how to make a Twinkie-wiener sandwich.

I’m not sure if I’ve officially entered middle-age yet. Technically speaking, if 30 is middle-aged then I’ll be dead by 60, so let’s not call this middle-age. I think 30 is like the pre-teen years of adulthood. I’m hoping that soon the acne-of-debt will clear up for me and I’ll get my learner’s permit-of-career-professionalism. Then I’ll graduate from the high school-of-bumbling-parenthood and head off to the college-of-not-watching-so-many-cartoons. Maybe I’ll stop at the trade school-of-awkward-metaphors on the way.

So here’s to the next decade. I’ll be 40 in one third of the time it took me to get here. Let’s see if my body will hold out that long.

Rice Rice Baby

This one is for the grandmas! Joey started eating rice cereal on Monday. He has a whopping 2 tablespoons a day! Where does he put it all?

Why Everyone Should Own A Dog

Jess and I both grew up with a dog in the house since we were born. Dogs can provide companionship, comfort, entertainment, and, occasionally, protection. About two and half years ago Jess and I, believing that our lives were not yet complicated enough, decided to get a dog. We spent a little time pricing around and discovered that our budget quickly restricted our options to all but the misfits of canine society. A retriever is a good dog, after all, but not good enough to spend a month and half of rent money to purchase one.

We discovered our choice puppy in a high quality (ahem) establishment conveniently located in scenic Shirley, NY (motto: Spandex Is For Everyone!). We picked out a small wiry haired whitish dog. The lady at the counter said she was a "schnoodle."

For some time I had been thinking of getting a dog for our family. Again, having grown up with a dog all of my I life I felt that having one around would make our fledgling family feel a little more complete. As the sole man in the family at the time my thoughts turned to:

a) a male dog

b) protection and

c) not looking ridiculous when in public.

Alas, the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Alice, as we named her, managed to fall short on all three counts.

We moved our family to South Philly this summer. Alice, of course, made the move with us as well. It seems that she has had the most difficulty adjusting. The biggest problem being the control of bodily functions. When we lived in NJ Alice was able to go out whenever she wanted and do her "business." Now that we live in the city we can't exactly open the door and turn her loose. Oh we we could do that but it might result in schnoodle pancakes. So now she is at the mercy of our schedule. Each morning, as I take her out for a walk around the block, I am inevitably reminded of when Jerry Seinfeld said,

"If aliens are looking down on us right now and see us picking up after our dogs, who are they going to think are the masters?"

It is a blow to your pride to have to bend over and grab a fresh hot load with that little bag. I just hope I never get one with a hole in it.

But Alice's morning walk serves many purposes. Not only does she get a chance to download on our neighbors' sidewalks, but she also gets a little exercise, helps me keep on schedule, and she also does her part to keep the neighborhood clean. Most dogs are mother nature's vacuum cleaners and Alice is no exception. Dave Barry once said,

"Dogs operate on the wise survival principle of eating anything that falls on the floor, because if it turns out not to be food, they can always throw it up later."

So far I've seen her eat chicken bones, pizza crusts, lemon rind, paper, bread, something blue, a candy cane, some plastic, M&M's, something brown, some cement and rained-on Chinese food. I have also had the grand privilege of discovering in her stool a penny, some hair, and what I can only assume was a wad of Floam.

Occasionally, though, Alice takes a little "vacay" at the grandparents' houses. Somehow our little furry dust buster has managed to work her way into the hearts of our family members. I have to say, that while she is gone, I notice there are a lot more crumbs on the floor. Having a live-in dust buster is handy for a snack-intensive family like ours. There's also not as much for the kids to do. They miss her terribly when she's gone, as does Jess. There's also no one to bark and warn us of our impending doom when the mail comes...or when someone walks past the house...or when our neighbor takes out his garbage...or when the wind blows. Nevertheless, we always seem to look forward to her return when she's away. It seems that this little dog has managed to prove her worth in our lives simply by earning our affection. She's no dummy.

She is, in fact, maybe the smartest dog I've ever had (Jessie-dog, if you're reading this blog, I take it back...in fact, if you can read, then I really take it back). I have had the pleasure of not having to take a lot of time to train this dog. She has managed to learn almost every command within a day of training and has even managed to work out her own routines and schedules.

She may not be a male dog, (that's okay, I always feel like they should be wearing a cup anyway) and she may not be vicious, (although you should see her lunge a the mail when it "mysteriously" makes its way into our mail slot everyday) and I may look like a complete dope in my pajama pants, work shoes, and leather jacket at 11pm walking a little white furball with a green sequin collar (okay, there's no upside to that one) but all in all I am very happy to have Alice.

And if she is reading this blog: Alice I think I dropped a chip next to the recliner.

And now...The Amazing Alice

Christmas Day Part 3: Reprise

Hey, this is Jessie's blog entry about our Christmas Day Part 3. Well, we said farewell to Joe's folks on Friday the 28th and drove the four hours out to my parents in Northeastern Pennsylvania. We slowly rolled out of New York over the Throgs Neck Bridge and had an easy ride to the Delaware Water Gap. After a fun break at the newly constructed rest stop, we pushed through to Nicholson, where we arrived just in time for a dinner of Mom's wimpies (sloppy joe's). The girls stayed up late as we indulged in Mom's homemade cookies for dessert. After the girls went to sleep in "My Room" (Mom's oasis), we quietly and oh-so-excitedly played Santa. On Christmas Day Part 3 we opened and opened and opened and wondered how we were going to get it all home (in the end most of the gifts we recieved from my family had to stay behind! We'll get them at a later date). It's nice to be so loved- by both our families!
We had fun the next day visiting with the Senatore's and the Deschaine's in Allentown (my mother's side). While we were there it started snowing- had to be the biggest snow flakes I've ever seen! Also, there was more eating and more gift exchanging and more good times despite the weather. My brother, my father, Joe, and our four month old son fell asleep watching football that afternoon! Oh dear!
Well, after the naps and the dessert and the long goodbyes that families make, we headed back to Nicholson where it continued to snow through the night. The girls were very excited when they woke up to a true winter wonderland on New Year's Eve. They didn't get to go out to play until the afternoon, but when Uncle Nick got home from work we all had a blast pelting each other with snow balls until only the pink of the sunset shone above the mountains. And after- what warmth awaited indoors with hot ovaltine and candy canes! (I know, hot OVALTINE?)
Cozily indoors, we hung out snacking and playing and watching television with the girls until ten or so. Too tired to stay up until midnight, they went to sleep easily. We grown-ups played Yahtzee until 11:56 when we rounded up the last minute "lucky charms" to welcome 2008. Gathered in the living room, we tuned in just in time for the ten second count down in Times Square. Smiling, clutching money in one hand and straw from a blessed manger scene in the other (oops! I had both in one hand and Joe stuck it all in his pocket), my little family watched the ball drop. "...3...2...1...Happy New Year" went up our cheer as we turned to hug and kiss each other in the thrill of the fresh start. Then, as is our custom, we threw open the doors, fanned out the old and welcomed the new, and shouted into the silent street "Happy New Year!"
Five minutes later we were back around the table playing the end of Yahtzee. Did I mention the original score pads from 1976 were still in use? I think there were just enough sheets for us to play the last game of 2007 and Dad was the winner!
The next day there was a fresh powdering of snow, an irresistable treat to Rosie and Bean. My brother dutifully took his nieces out and stirred up a winter delight of snowman building and sled riding they won't soon forget. Almost an hour later they came in rosy cheeked and cherry nosed and so frozen they had to sit under blankets with hot water bottles while sipping real hot chocolate to defrost. All the while Joe and I made the final cuts on what gifts would get to come home this time. It was tough to decide! Hopefully, in future Christmases, we'll remember not to go straight from one adoring family circle to the other without stopping home for a night or two to unload!
Now we are home, Joe's happily back to work, and we are adjusting well to reality...although today was a bit bumpy for me. :) Amazingly the laundry from our trip was washed, folded, AND put away the next day! Usually it haunts me, doubling the daily loads, remaining in the limbo state of "clean, folded and in the basket" so long we start to go there for clean things rather than into our drawers...but that is another story for some other time.
I hope you had a happy holiday and that you have many warmy, happy memories of those days!

The Polls Are Closed

In what turned out to be a shockingly enormous turnout, five whole people voted on our "Favorite Muppet" poll. Kermit the Frog garnered a full 60% (3) of the votes crushing the opposition. Be sure to vote in our next poll "How often should you shower?" or "Hi Gene!"

PA or Bust

Today we made our way from NY to PA for the last leg of our Christmas Vacation.

We said goodbye to Grandma and Papa around 12:30 and headed for Nicholson, PA.

We drove a very tightly packed car from 12:30 to 4:00. There was very little traffic except around the GerorgeWashington Bridge (surprise) and we decided to take a short break when we reached the Delaware Water Gap. After a quick tour of the facilities and some nursing time for joey we hit the road again and made it to Grammy and Popop's house by 6:30. No major issues but it take a little longer than the estimated 3 hours and 51 minutes.

Since we've been here we've been experiencing some technical difficulties with the wireless access on the modem. This might be the last entry for a little while. Please check back soon for more updates!

Dashing Through the Mall

Today we went to the mall to exchange a coat. Not a big deal.
First we stopped for lunch at Burger King.
Then we got to a VERY crowded mall...

...bought a new hat for Joey...

...had some ice cream...

...and headed home to have some meatballs and spaghetti and watch The March of the Wooden Soldiers. It was a very nice day.

Same Old Same Old

Nothing new to report.