Category Archives: florida

Focus 52: "Begin"

Yes. I already wrote my post for the New Year.  It was fabulous. Did you miss it?  Well, go the hell back and read it.  It was all about love with nice stories, sexy music and of course, the joy that is my life.

Now, I am involving myself in the “Focus 52” project, where we creative types will be taking photos, blogging, showing off our goods (no, not like that…perverts) in a collective effort to post our stuff at least once a week, every week, for a year.

I am a commitment phobe.  Don’t believe this?  Ask my three husbands.  Yeah.  It’s like that. 

However, I truly feel I can devote myself to this project.  I watched my girl Janice do her 365 day project, where every. single. day. she took another photograph and uploaded it, blogged about it and she really moved me with her work.  It inspired me and now that she is sponsoring the less taxing Focus 52 project, well, this is something that I feel I can do…especially with her at the helm. 

I recently started taking pictures.  Not great pictures, but pictures of moments that make me say…wow, I would love to write about that moment.  So, with camera in hand…I grab the moment.  I’m not a professional photographer by any means.  My experience goes as far as in the mirror pics of myself for Facebook or boobie shots on my phone that I text to my husband.  But, for the purpose of just grabbing the moment, my skills of point and click are good enough.  I just want to capture enough of the moment for me to take it home and write about it.  My focus will now be on exactly that…capturing moments in photos and then, talking about that particular moment in time.  What it meant.  What I was feeling.  The circumstances surrounding it.

This project will not only give me the opportunity to commit to my writing once again, but allow me to branch out just the tiniest bit into another creative outlet.  You don’t have to be good at something to love what you do.  (See: President George Bush). 

Here is my first photo (click to enlarge):

This photo was taken New Years Eve, 2010.  It was taken from the balcony of our hotel room overlooking the Gulf Beaches in Treasure Island, Florida.  A better photographer would  have known to center this bitch, as the sun usually doesn’t lay lazily to the right.  At this particular moment, I was thinking…this is the last sunset of the year.  When the sun sets…it will give way to a new year, a new start.

A new beginning. 

I think I am going to like being a part of this project. 

This past weekend…

was my High School reunion. Well, not really high school. Actually, it was my Junior High School reunion. I used to live in Queens, New York. I grew up there. The place is in my blood and part of everything I am. I had all my “firsts” in Queens. One summer, I went to sleepaway camp, like I always did, with all my friends from Queens. It was, as usual, a blast. Great summer, moreso because I got to be a junior counselor that year.

On the last day of camp, I hugged all my friends goodbye and told them I would see them at school in a couple of weeks. My parents always took us on some stupid vacation at the end of camp. I was all prepped for it. So, with my brother and I packed up in the car…we began on our journey to wherever it was we were going. I saw us pass the exit for Queens as we were driving along the Long Island Expressway.

“Where are we going,” I asked.

“You’ll see,” Esther chirped.

We drove on for what felt like HOURS. We finally pulled up in front of this enormous brown house. Tons of trees and foliage.

I hated it immediately.

“Welcome home,” my mother said.

EXCUSE ME????

“What do you mean ‘welcome home’, I asked. “This isn’t HOME!” Now, I’m panicking.

“We just bought this house,” my stepfather said. “isn’t it great?”

Great? I don’t think so.

I ran away from home THAT weekend, right back into Queens, sobbing into the arms of my friends. I stayed at several different houses throughout the week of any friend who would have me. I missed the first week of school in Long Island. I didn’t care. There was no way I was going back there. No. Freaking. Way.

Well, with police intervention, I was returned to my parents house. I started school in Long Island, but never fit in there. Sure, I made a couple of friends, but my heart was always deeply embedded in Queens. I went back there every weekend that I could. I had friends from Queens come out to this mansion I was living in. They started calling me a “richie”, which was someone who had money. We didn’t have money…but the house I lived in sure as hell looked like we did.

Eventually, those ties tapered off…

Years later, my kindergarten friend, Abby, tracked me down on Classmates.com. We picked up right where we had left off some 20 years earlier. Then, along came Facebook, getting me deeper in contact with all my friends from Queens. We have been laughing and talking online for months. All of this leading up to my reunion this past weekend.

I haven’t seen these people in 28 years…since I was torn away from them, kicking and screaming all the while.

It was bizarre to see most of them. Everyone aged, sure. The men got bald, the women got chunky and had lines on their beautiful faces…but for the most part, no personalities had changed. We meshed right back into our old fun and games like no time passed at all. The reunion was a blast. So much laughing, talking and drinking going on (not me though…I stayed sober). We had an “after party” at a local restaurant that we stayed at until 5am.

Now that it’s over, I wish it never ended. I got back on a plane to Florida in tears, the same way I left them 28 years ago. I hope I don’t have to wait another 28 years before I see these people again. It would break my heart. These are my true friends. I couldn’t believe the fond memories they had of me during certain times of their lives. It was great to reminisce about the old days. All we did was laugh and laugh to the point where we couldn’t breathe any longer.

It was simply and without question, the most amazing time of my life.

I almost died this past Thursday!!!!

By the way, thank you all for the headache remedies.

I almost didn’t need them anymore. Your Princess nearly died this weekend. Yes, death of the Princess and none of you would have ever known. So sad.

Mid migraine, my husband suggests we get away to the beach for the weekend. So on September 11th, a sad day in history to begin with…I drag my ass out of bed to go to the beach. I am not in a good mood. My head is hurting, it’s 9/11 and there are very gut wrenching issues I am dealing with in relation to that. My hotband is doing his best to cheer me up since the drugs/ice/compresses/etc. were not working. The beach is our happy place…and with Ike tucked safely away in the Gulf wreaking havoc on Texas instead of Florida. (I am praying for all of you Texans, God be with all of you…seriously). I figure we will try to relax on the beach.

Unfortunately for me, I choose to watch more “Project Runway” than I watch the Weather Channel. Yeah. Hurricane Ike? In the Gulf of Mexico. CP? In the Gulf of Mexico.

Apparently, the two cannot co-exist.

I got caught in a riptide. Know what that is? Thats when the water sucks you down harder than a hooker in heat. Sucked me in like a cheap whore. The swells were massive. Swelling I have not seen since the last time I broke out the KY Yours and Mine with the hotband.

Sucked. Under. See Ya.

And for a divine few moments, I was considering my own death. I was totally NOT cool with it. I fought those fucking waves so hard, gasped for breath and got sucked under again. This time, I hit the bottom. Hard. Smashed my face into the sand. Water piling onto my head. Can’t fucking breathe. So not cool.

Finally get my face above the water for a millisecond…long enough for my husband to see my panicked face. I yelled for help…LOUD!

Mind you, Hotband doesn’t swim. And this is the person I am asking for help???

Well, blah blah blah….I obviously made it out because I am here telling you about this. Ike puked me up and spit me out quite mercifully. Rolled my fat ass onto the sand and into my husbands arms. I was sputtering, spitting, pissing my drawers and shaking. I was completely blown away by the enormity of the situation.

We get back to the resort and the woman there tells us, “Oh, the Governor just made a statement warning that no one should go into the Gulf! I just wanted to let you kids know!”

Yeah. Great. Thanks.

So tell me…what would your final words to me be once you found out I died??

No. Seriously. Please pray for Texas. Hard.