year in review: 2000

January: paul and i started off the new year by me not remembering what had happened the night before. The alcohol consumed by myself was enough to force a blackout. something mumbled about blowjobs, bathrooms, and me being the life of the party all night.

February: paul and i head to NYC for LWE:NYC to meet with friends from #userfriendly and for his work purposes. We drove. Never ever will I drive anywhere farther than a few hours again. When I got to the hotel, I cried like a little girl because the NYC drivers *are* as bad as they say they are. i partied with geeks, saw times square, and paul and i got lost on the way into DC on the way home. We ended driving up the wrong side of 495 and had to cut through DC in the middle of the night.

march: my lovely brother came and stay with us for a week for spring break. oh joy!

April: my father passed away on April 24, 2000.

may: spent a week in Toronto for the funeral. paul turned 20. love and birth in one month. my fathers 73rd birthday would have been this month.

June: my 28th birthday.

July: Brian (pauls brother) comes and stays with us for nearly 2 months. I love his little brother 🙂 Wednesday is born.

august: i meet pauls parents and his Spanish grandmother. Brian goes back to Miami. school starts and i miss another semester.

September: We add Wednesday into our household. At 8 weeks and 3lbs she is adorable.

October: paul and i celebrate our one year anniversary by going to Morton’s steak house.

November: paul’s sister Ivette comes and stays with us for thanksgiving weekend and paul cooks up a storm. i nearly kill him in his over Martha Stewart process of making everything perfect. We roast a 26lb turkey for friends and family and there is no leftovers.

December: i plan a weekend trip to Michigan to see my mother, and paul and I fly to Miami for 9 days of fun in the sun. While we are gone, Wednesday gets bit by his aunt’s German shepard and paul and i freak out over our “child”. nadia and greg get married and we formally announce our engagement to the sullivan family.

any given monday

i realized, without realization, what and who i wanted to be. that image, so perfect and clean that had been eluding me these odd twenty-eight years (technically, anything over ten should be 10 such as twenty-eight should be 28. At least for newspaper journalism — MLA handbook). i began my daily ritual, which required me to open up and start writing only to get lost in all those words. a mere mention of “the sound of music” lent me to spending several hours searching about the family via various engines (mamma, hotbot, altavista, google, oh my!) only to find little to nothing on the family. disappointed i started reading various online journals (always the voyeur, never the participant) and lost several hours again.

I’m watching Wednesday chew on the “brides” magazine i had bought nearly a month ago and wonder where all the time has gone (magazine has gone unread as like the rest of my subscriptions to rolling stone, brills content, penthouse letters and nerve among others). a pile nearly 3 feet deep reigns on one my shelves of magazines waiting to be read — the kind you want to read on a Sunday afternoon when it’s raining. one does not go out to buy an inch edition of vanity fair featuring the slightly obsessive gwynnie paltrow when one has that kind of material lying around does one? yes, one certainly does.

I’ve have a big crush on maura. she’s so keen.

life often continues on this spiral I’ve noticed. dreams and wishes and things we want only to never really achieve them. magazines often feel like that kind of etherealness. i think gwynnie paltrow is the WORSE actress known to man (I’ve walked out on Shakespeare in love), but I’m obsessed by her and her life. the glam-carefee life of the social diva. vanity fair spoiled me for the next few days as i dream about what it would be like to have grown up on the upper west side of ny, to summer in the hamptons and to have gone to a private school so elite, your blood must be so blue that it’s black to get in.

it’s in times like this that i often think about my own family and my heritage, how i guffaw about my great-grandfather the booze runner in the 1920’s, my grandfather the bricklayer and my father who was taxi cab driver (as one of his many professions). i dream and wonder why i couldn’t have that kind of life — where money and prestige was something i could have been born to and not dream about.


Wednesday is chewing on my toes.