Things That Scare Me

It’s been a year and a half since The Man’s heart attack. I’ve almost forgotten the fear and worry and feeling of loss I had while he was in the hospital and I was here alone trying to make life seem normal for our little girl. Almost. I will never forget that hideous shade of grey on his face. I will never forget him being so quiet and unmoving. After they “stabilized” him he wasn’t himself. He wasn’t making jokes or being funny or even telling me not to worry. I hugged him and said “I’m scared.” He said, “Me too.”

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Inella Sophie Bulicz Nelson

…was my grandmother. Affectionately called “Gramma” by my brother and me when we were little and then by my children when they came along. She was born in Pennsylvania..the first American born in our family. Her parents emigrated from Poland. Her mother and aunt made the journey together and fell in love here in Pennsylvania. I forget the details, but at some point her parents ran a small store together and eventually had five children.

Gramma, about age 5 (1928?)

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The “Terrible” Twos

I hear screaming from the living room: “I can’t DO IT!”

This is accompanied by minor thunking sounds and whispers of voices from the movie she’s supposed to be watching. After a few minutes she calms herself and bits and pieces of toddler singsong waft their way to my ears, floating along on her happiness, encouraged by her movie dialog.

The “Terrible Twos” are only terrible for the toddlers who wake one day to find themselves irretrievably embedded in life’s quandaries, which they are now old enough to feel, yet not ready to understand and conquer. Abigail is ready to do things herself and express her needs and wants…but doesn’t always know the word for the big feeling she’s having or the correct phrase for the idea she has (and she has many).

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Elisa and the Polar Bears

My friend posted on Facebook:  Wouldn’t it be funny if we ran out of oranges because we accidentally made them all seedless?

Me: Ditto with polar bears!

My friend: Ummmmm….


So I’m posting this to explain, even though it seems really obvious to me. The short version is: if everyone had oranges and ate them instead of fish the polar bears would have a larger supply of food and would not be struggling for survival. (If you believe the polar bear activists.)

Also? If the orange growers could find a way to harness the power of global warming and point it at the orange trees we would have wonderful big juicy oranges for all of the people to eat and the polar bears could lie around on ice floes and eat fish instead of having to move south to Canada because their homes fell into the ocean and floated to Indonesia.

So…more oranges = happier polar bears.

No oranges = skinny homeless polar bears living on the streets in Toronto.

You decide.


Farewell, Atlantis

I’m sitting here in the predawn quiet looking at the shuttle Atlantis. She has just landed after her final journey of 5,284,862 miles, having hurled herself at the world while most of America slept. Fifty-five thousand of us watched her as she pushed her way back into our atmosphere, hurtled toward Florida, flew lower and was picked up by infrared cameras at Kennedy Space Center. Continue reading

Happy Birthday, Abigail Aurora

T minus 20 minutes and counting!

about two weeks old

Two years ago, very insanely early in the morning, Matthew and I walked (yes, walked) to the hospital carrying what we needed for our expected c-section and short stay afterward. I was a nervous wreck. I’d never had a c-section and I knew from previous surgery that I didn’t do so well with anesthesia. Despite an intense desire to meet the little girl that had been doing roundhouse kicks and tai chi in my belly, I wasn’t at all eager to get the show on the road. Continue reading