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My husband is a fan of the reality television show Miami Ink. I’ve never seen the show, but I believe it is basically a “life in a tattoo studio” show. Whatever my husband like, Ethan loves. If Adam thinks the show is good, then Ethan thinks it is Emmy Award quality. Whatever. Right?

Last night they were watching an episode, and the scened centered on a woman that was getting a tattoo. The following conversation traspired:

Ethan: Daddy, you want to get a new wife like that?

Adam: She would be REAL mad.

Now, I don’t know where this conversation came from, but here’s my guess. My husband has several tattoos. I have none. I don’t want any. Whenever we ride by a tattoo studio Adam always asks, “You want a tattoo? I’ll pay for it. C’mon. Right now. Let’s go.”

I guess Ethan really listens to eveyrthing we say.

My mother’s parents were Greek immigrants. My Grandfater came to this country alone, when he was twelve years old. His first job was as a shoe shine boy. Evetually, he met a family who took him in, and taught him the restaurant business, and in a few years he bought his first restaurant in New York. He met my Grandmother a few years later. She came to the United State through Canada, as an old woman. She was not quite twenty. They married, had five chldren, a beautiful home, and the depression struck. It hit them hard. In order to ensure that their children were taken care of while my Grandfather struggled to rebuild a love, they sent the older three children to live with relatives in the south. In less than two years they were all together again. My Grandfather purchased a new restaurant in Newport News, and this is where he lived until his death in March 1959. I never met my Grandfather. I was born that November. His death broke my Grandmother’s heart, and from what my family tells me, she didn’t smile again until she held me for the first time, a couple of days after I was born.

My Grandfather owned a restaurant in downtown Neport News, on Main Street, just a block and a half from his home. When he became ill with cancer in 1958, my aunt and uncle took over the restaurant. It was on Main Street, through the window of this restaurant, and in my Grandmother’s home where I learned the most about life. I was born in the City of Newport News. Newport News is just 30 minutes from Virginia Beach, the city we moved to when I was four years old. Though we moved from Newport News, I continued to spend a good deal of my time there because my Grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins all remained in the city. Newport News is the place that made me who I am. It is the place that formed many of the beliefs I hold today. It was the place where I saw a world change.

I vaguely recall how a nation mourned the loss of a President. My Mom and Grandmother hushed us as they watched the funeral. It seemed as though it lasted forever. A few years later we watched as his daughter christened a ship named after him.

I can remember sitting in the window of the restaurant of my Aunt and Uncle and watching a parade of ghost-like men walking down the street. I remember them locking the door, and telling us not to go outside. I remember my aunt telling us that these men didn’t like Greeks, and they especially didn’t like their cook, Connie. I can still see the look of terror in Connie’s eyes, when I went back to the kitchen to ask him to fix me a bowl of his chicken and dummplings. I was around six or seven years old, and had no understanding of the hate the ghost-like men had for Connie. Later that night my Mom explained it to me. She explained that those men would be very angry to see Connie sitting with us in a booth, and that’s why he had stayed in the back that day, and also why the door stayed locked during their parade.

Downtown Neport News was home to three of those large, elegant movie theaters of the past. Theaters with balconies, fancy carpet, incredible drapes over the screen. There were often days where we were the only people in the the theater, and as kids, we loved it. The theater employees all knew us, and we were allowed to see any movie we liked. I learned about the war, the new generation of youth, social consciousness, the new sexual revolution and more through films like The Easy Rider, Bonnie and Clyde, The Graduate, Midnight Cowboy, Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice (yes, I saw it as a child), Rosemary’s Baby, To Sir With Love, and Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.

Eventually, my Grandmother became too old to live in that four level house alone. The Newport News Shipyard grew, and as it grew the company began to buy up all the homes that graced the James River. The large Department Stores wtih their teahouses and fancy clothes started to lose business, and evetually closed. One of the theaters closed, and another started showing strictly porn movies. I can remember seeing DEEP THROAT written across one of the billboards. The downtown area became a place for the shipyard workers to eat lunch or enjoy a quick bite and a beer after work. There was no more roaming the streets, shopping in stores, or going to the movies. My childhood, along with my childhood haunts, was beginning to disappear.

How do you react to a guy that stands in your office door talking about parking garage construction, while his hand is in his pants playing jiggly with his wiggly? All I could do was stare at him. What is wrong with people?

Ethan turned 4 1/2 today. In his words, “I’ve been waiting for a long, long time to turn 4 1/2.” We celebrated with friends and family tonight. Cake and ice cream, and a visit from a Birthday Elf.

A Birthday Elf is quite different from one of Santa’s Elves. Birthday Elves have wings, and when you’re not at home they fly to your house and leave off a half-birthday gift. They don’t bring presents on your birthdate birthday; only on half-birthdays.

It was a fun night, and we’re looking forward to attending Kaiden’s half-birthday in April.

And before you say it, I will. Ethan is just a tiny bit spoiled. As with any birthday, half or otherwise, photos are a must.

HAPPY HALF-BIRTHDAY ETHAN…WE LOVE YOU.

Hearing about Chris Penn’s death this morning made me more than just a little sad. Cheesy as it was, who doesn’t remember Chris as Willard Hewitt in Footloose? One of the most memorable scenes in the film has to he the Chris Penn/Kevin Bacon dance sequence. And, really, doesn’t a smile always accompany that memory?

RIP Chris.

Thanks to Melissa in London, who tagged me for this one!

The rules: The tagged victim lists 8 different points of their perfect lover/partner, mentioning the sex of said partner. Tag 8 victims to join this game & leave a comment on a post letting them know they’ve been tagged. If tagged before, no need to contribute.

My perfect partner would be male, because, that’s what I married

My Perfect Partner:
1. Is a wonderful father – being a good parent is way sexy
2. Makes me laugh at myself
3. Knows when to be serious
4. Trusts me and encourages me to do my own thing
5. Is happy to be home
6. Is honest to a fault
7. Will take the long way there because I like the scenic route
8. Is always willing to do family things

Rather than follow instructions, and tag eight of you, I’m just asking you to list a few traits that make your list.

I’m wearing a pair of reading glasses that have so many scratches in them that in order to see what I’m reading I have to focus my eyes between the lines, the scuffs and the chips. It is beyond the normal realm of difficult because the scratches on each of the lenses are at different levels. However, I’ve bcome quite proficient at squinting my eyes and tilting my head to make the most of this pair of glasses.
Here they are:

I kid you not. I cannot read a word without them, but I go to extreme levels of excess to read with them. I told you I was a loser.
I used to have an extra pair, but they were lost to a habit of mine. During conversation, I tend to take hold of my glasses by the ear piece and spin them around. During one of my most active spin sessions, the extra pair of glasses snapped at the bridge. For an entire day I wore the gasses anyway. I just kept my head slightly upward so they would rest on my cheekbones. Yes, I did that.
Now, before you all start taking up a collection to buy me a suitable pair of specs, please understand the real reason as to why I keep wearing these glasses. This is what makes me a loser. It’s the fact that I am too freakin’ slack to a) call the doctor and make an eye appointment; b) go to the eye appointment; c) use my time off from work for something that I need in order to do my job; and d) fill out the long claim form required by my vision insurance. Yes, I even have vision insurance.

Could I be a bigger loser?

Hey, it’s my son, so why not? If you feel like listening to my oldest son’s college radio show, you can listen to The Straight BS with Brian and Steve by clicking this link, and when you go\et to the site hit “Listen Now”….Enjoy. The show is on Sundays from 6:00 until 8:00 p.m. est.

A rainy afternoon, and a few hours at the Virginia Children’s Museum