New is not necessarily Better.....

Lately, in my experiences, I have discovered that NEW is not necessarily BETTER.  I will explain how I came to that conclusion - but first, I want to make known a few things.  For my job as a REALTOR, when I go into homes, I love to see wood burning fireplaces and gum wood molding, claw-foot tubs, built-in hutches with leaded glass, pocket doors, ceiling medallions and especially hand-blown glass windows with all the delicious little air bubbles and wavy appearances.  All of those are old fashioned, and I have always held a special admiration for the way things were built and designed in yesteryear.  In this day and age, a touch of the old coupled with the everyday conveniences of the new, is what is attractive in a home, and makes it charming.  But, that's not what I'm talking about today.  We are going deep and taking it down, down, down.....to the kitchen.
Today, I want to discuss the coffee maker and its loyalty until death mentality.

Each morning, when my alarm jolts me out of bed, my consistent routine begins;  Once I come downstairs to the kitchen, with the dogs at my feet and the cat meowing non-stop, the first thing I do is pour eight cups of cold water into the coffee maker, measure out the coffee and hit the button.  Only then do I feed the wailing cat, bring the dogs outdoors and hook up their leashes, run back upstairs and uncover the squawking bird and then proceed to wake up the sleeping child, all while the delicious black gold is brewing.  Then, I fix myself a cup, take a sip and carry on making lunch for the little one and preparing an awesome breakfast which always includes apples and peanut butter.

All pretty normal stuff, right?  Right.

Now I ask;  "What happens when the coffee maker breaks?"

This is where my story truly begins.  After coming back inside, and not smelling any gorgeous aromas, my antennae went up.  Upon inspection, I unearthed the truth.  The coffee maker was lame.  No brew....no aroma....no coffee....no nothing!   Ugh!  As much as it stunk, and skewered my morning, I am a resourceful gal, so after we walked to the bus stop, I stopped in to Home Market, the convenience store on the corner, and watched in horror as the man picked up a quarter-filled glass coffee pot and poured me a large styrofoam cup of morning jolt.  He asked me what I wanted and I said cream and sugar please.  As I walked toward home, I took a big sip.

 BLAH.  It was terrible. I therefore discovered an even deeper appreciation for the easy push button coffee maker that created the lovely nectar.  I promised myself a trip to that coffee store that has the really strong stuff, muscled through getting ready and off I went.

This particular day had me hopping from morning until evening, so I asked Joey to please stop off somewhere and get a coffee maker.  Oh boy.  You have to know Joey.  When he moved in with us, he came with cast iron frying pans, a pressure cooker, and all kinds of gadgets that none of us knew how to operate.  They were cool gizmos, a lot of As-Seen-On-TV things like the advocado peeler/cutter and the no handle can opener that nobody but Joey knows how to use.  We found room for everything, but half the time I would pick something up and stare at it with a blank expression on my face not really sure what its purpose was. 

Flash forward to the coffee maker day.

I came home from running all over creation to a big peanut looking thing sitting on my stove.

My little girl was laughing hysterically and Joey, while trying to keep a straight face said "What? It works the same and it makes 18 cups!"

O.M.Gosh.

I said "Absolutely not.  No. No. No." I may have even stamped my foot simultaneously.

Joey, trying desperately not to laugh, tried to plead his case that this peanut looking thing would fit perfectly in the spot where the old coffee maker was and that it makes coffee just like the other one.  He was explaining that all we have to do is boil water and pour it over the coffee and whalla - coffee.

Okay, I know I said I like the old stuff, but this is ridiculous.  Just looking at this beast-like silver lump, all I could think of was making coffee for a get together for a wake, or a stake out;  not for every day use.
Where did it even come from?  How was this thing around and I'd never seen it before?
 
My heart sank in my chest. This was not a joke.  He truly did not buy a coffee maker.

I refused to use the giant peanut.  I put my foot down.  Joey couldn't even argue with me because he was laughing too much.  It's pretty hard to argue your case whilst laughing.  Imagine? 

I started to open cabinets, to look for some other gadget that was tucked away gathering dust. " AHA!"  I exclaimed as I picked up this contraption to the right and asked "What about this one?  It's small and it doesn't look like we are hosting some sort of function!"

"That's an expresso maker."  Joey deadpanned.

Seriously?  Why?  Why do we have an espresso maker? I silently shrieked.
My expression made him laugh again. 

Determined not to be thwarted and begin my day angrily staring at the newly acquired enemy;  I rummaged through some more cabinets and came up with this elderly percolator.

"How does this thing work?"  I asked Joey.  He gave me a quick run down - first you boil water (only two cups) and then when it starts to boil, you put the coffee in the filter-type thingy, three table spoons, and then watch the top and when the water turns to rotating coffee, it's done.   Okay fine.

The next morning rolled around and I figured I could have the water boil while I made lunch and breakfast.  It went off without a hitch.  The coffee was super hot, so it took a little bit to get the full taste of it.....but, when I did....it was GOOD.

Wow.  Really good.  Have you ever made a pot a coffee and sometimes it comes out as the best cup of coffee ever?  Well, that happens to me sometimes, so I chocked the whole percolator thing up to one of those experiences and I went on with my day.

At some point during the day; I stopped and picked up this beauty plug in coffee maker.  Excellent.  Our days with the Pilgrims were over, we were back in this century.  One day lost, no biggie.....back to normal.

The next morning arrived.  I put eight cups to brew in my new, easy to use, plug-in coffee maker and continued with my rituals.

When I fixed a cup of the dark liquid and added my touch of this and touch of that, I was very excited to drink it.  It was convenient and familiar and smelled good too.

The moment of truth arrived and I drank.

To my astonishment, and incredible dismay, the percolated coffee was far superior.

Yes, I said it - Old Percolator Coffee was Far Superior than the Fancy Shmancy easy plug-in one.

I quickly made a batch in the percolator to compare.  It was a no-brainer.  The Percolator made better coffee.  Way better coffee.  Even a seasoned Barista with Starbucks commented that she could taste the different notes of the coffee.

O.M.Goodness.  How Ironical. 

Wasn't that a great opportunity to learn?  Right?  Because that's the first thing I thought of too.  (heavy sarcasm intended).  But, learn, I did.  Learn what, do you ask?

Humility, Truth, Admitting I was wrong for starters.  Most especially, since it's the one I went with, embracing the fact that women change their mind on a whim and since I am a woman, I am perfectly within my rights to choose the percolator.

Now, how to tell Joey?  Imagine the smugness.  The gadgets that will appear out of thin air.  All the new things I will have to try because "maybe it's like the percolator......"  That's right folks, I imagined it all.  I asked myself....."is it worth all the hub bub?"  My answer was and remains; Yes.  It's worth it.  It's deserved.  Like gum wood and pocket doors, the percolator was better.  The turtle with his slow and steady wins the race .....had won again.

Seeing as the next morning was a Saturday, and Joey usually makes coffee and breakfast on the weekends, I knew there was a full pot of freshly brewed coffee in the plug-in easy maker.  Since I had made such a big stink about the coffee maker and all the ancient gizmos laying around, I was finding it a little difficult to save face AND get myself a big cup of percolated coffee.  I really didn't have a plan.

So, casual as you please, I sauntered into the kitchen, poured some of the machine coffee, fixed it appropriately, took a big sip, looked Joey right in the eye and said "Actually, I like the percolated coffee better."

He burst into a hearty laugh, and then still chuckling, he took the percolator and started to fill it with cold water. 

He is still laughing.  Everytime I say "Percolator", he laughs.  I'm sure he is imaging my using the funny looking can opener thingy next or cooking our entire meal in the pressure cooker in five minutess! 

Meanwhile, I have now integrated the percolator and all it's glorious black gold into my morning routine.  #oldfashionedstyle 

Don't knock it til you try it.

Me and my coffee are out. :)

It's always stressful when the real estate market shifts.......

As a REALTOR, it is my job to keep my finger to the pulse of the Real Estate Market.  What I have been witnessing this year is absolute mayhem.  One month the houses are flying off the shelves - multiple offers - high prices - - disappointed buyers - - and then a short month later, houses sit longer - sellers start to panic and ask "what's wrong with my house?"  The answer is - NOTHING!

The Real Estate Market is like an ocean wave.....timing is everything if you want to be at the tippity top of the wave.  Sometimes it begins so quickly that by the time the dust settles, everthing is gone and those sellers and buyers are happy. 

What about the rest of them?  What about the couple who watched the house across the street go into a fervor of Saturday and Sunday activity? They watched as cars drove by slowly at all times of day and night.....and then two days later the sign "Under Contract" got hung up.  Very Curious.  A few days go by and then one morning, Neighbor Seller sees Neighbor Curious and says "Oh my goodness, it was unreal!  Seven people wrote offers!  It was so competitive, but I feel really great about the buyers who won..." You get the picture.  

How do you suppose Neighbor Curious feels?  A lot of times what happens is....people get motivated to sell THEIR house and do what the neighbors did.  So, they paint, and clean out the basement, and fix the front steps, and replace the door, maybe repair the doorbell.....let's say for two weeks Neighbor Curious works on their house.  Then they call a REALTOR, and the agent comes to the house and walks through and does an analysis (a lot of stock is put into the price of the house across the street).  FINALLY, a month and a half later, Neighbor Curious's house is ready to come onto the market. Neighbor Seller across the street is getting ready to close on their property.  Now, after all is said and done, Neighbor Curious is ready to step into the Neighbor Curious Seller role (NCS), and their expectations are HIGH.  They can't wait to watch the crazy come and witness people fighting over their home.  Their ideas and imagination have been growing since they made the decision to work on their home to put it on the market. 

The REALTOR comes in with the photographer who is sure to capture the best qualities of the home in order to set up an excellent marketing plan.  NCS's home goes into MLS on a Wednesdaty night, with a broker tour planned for Thursday, and open houses for both Saturday* and Sunday (just like across the street). 

Thursday's broker tour is healthy, a lot of agents show up, have some lunch, chat about the home, and then go to tell their buyers.

Saturday comes and only a handful of people show up.  Sunday there are a few more, but just trickles.  

No offers on Monday, no requests for showings on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday.  What is happening? 

No one can answer that question.  The ocean wave effect strikes again.  

Now, all the great feelings that NCS had while preparing their house, and all the different imagined things that their big money can buy have come crashing down, and hard.     (Can we agree that NCS already has a number in their head?  Can we agree that the number is probably higher than the house across the street?  Why is it higher?.....because while NCS worked on their house, and put forth the effort, in their head they tacked on dollars to the listing price.  

Suddenly, the excitement and unknown is a heavy blanket of negative feelings.  Resentment is born.  Why doesn't the frenzy come to my house?  What did my stupid house do to mess up my awesome plan?  Not a single thing.  It is very difficult to erase or re-direct the *high expectations created by the circus that was witnessed across the street!  And their house wasn't even as good as mine!  Like an etch a sketch, you have to erase those thoughts.  Turn it around.  Listen to the advise your trusted Realtor is giving.    

Sometimes the market just slows down a little bit.  A lot of times, in my opinion, the buyers who were caught up in that tornado-like frenzy, who did not win house A, or house B, maybe not even house C, become completely exhausted and discouraged by their stress filled experiences.  Imagine ten people vying for the same home.  Only one person is happy. Nine people have to mourn the loss of the house they so desperately wanted and find another one just like it.......only to fight (probably the same people) to win again.....so, then there were eight.....and so on and so forth.  Sometimes people buy a house in that situation and it's not even the house they really wanted.  Anyhow, back on topic - - It takes time for people to lick their wounds and contemplate from the comfort of their pajamas, if they really want to go back into that crazy.  That creats a lull.  

Back to NCS and their situation.  Just because the house hasn't gone under agreement in the first week, does NOT mean the house isn't going to sell.

We, especially in Boston, are so spoiled by a healthy (IMMEDIATE GRATIFICATION) market, that it taints the experience when imagined or created expectations aren't met so early on.  Buying and Selling a home is a very stressful experience.  It's personal.  It's emotional. Add the unrealistic expectations crashing down and you have a recipe for deep depression.  

It doesn't have to be that way. Sometimes it just takes a little longer.  Re-evaluate price and market plan and sometimes you just have to Wait It Out.  Be patient with the process, with the experience, with yourselves.....and especially with your AGENT!    

Market dictates price, and sometimes it makes a slight correction after the frenzy brings prices too high..... it's as simple as physics. 

*Usually Sunday is open house day - the only time Sat and Sun open houses usually occur is when there is so much interest in the house that it would be too crowded for showing on one day.

written by Kim Augusta 11/5/15

CHECK OUT MY WEB PAGE AT  -  kimaugusta.com

Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock

Time          

 Tick Tock.  I have been pondering, admiring and fearing this particular element and its silent pursuit ever since Eleanor and I had an episode on the bus two years ago.  I’ve also been meaning to write this ever since.  I have accumulated little notes on my bureau, snippets of thoughts recorded on my little hand-held, and random ideas that float in my head, but I was always doing something else and too often thought - I’ll get to it later”. 
Well here we are, two thousand years later, and I’m finally putting my thoughts to paper.
Together on good old 8 1/2 x 11.

We were on our way to the Draper Pool for an afternoon swim.  Eleanor was four years old.  When we got on the bus, across the aisle from us was a little old woman with deep wrinkles and a hunched back, who had forgotten her teeth.  She gave Eleanor a big gummy grin, with her face lit up in pure delight as sometimes happens when the elderly see the young.  Eleanor looked at her, then looked at me - - three times - - then her face crumpled into a picture of pure sorrow, she burst into tears as she threw herself into my arms and exclaimed “I DON’T WANT YOU TO GET OLD AND DIE!” 

Oh Boy. 

Sadly, I didn’t give the woman another thought as I had my hands full with my hysterical baby.  Needless to say, we spent a lot of time in the dressing room of the Draper Pool discussing age and time. To say I was caught way off guard is being kind.  She appeared to really understand the process of aging but was putting too much speed on it.  The entire experience was enlightening to say the least.

I haven’t been able to relax about it ever since.

I don’t want to freak you all out or anything, or have you constantly thinking of this wily, insistent, complicated, living breathing thing that is ALWAYS there.....but, think about it.  Do you remember?  Go back in your head to any young age you can think of, remember an event or a simple occurrence that has stuck with you throughout your life.  Examine its simplicity (in most cases), then think about your children, or your friend's children, your siblings, your nieces and nephews, your neighbor’s kid - - I don’t know, somewhere in your everyday life, you must come across a child here or there. 

Watch them, Listen to them, See them, Hear them.  All they want is your attention.  It doesn't last and it is incredibly powerful.  Children adapt to their surroundings better than any Chameleon.  I'm amazed at certain things, Idiosyncrasies’, I guess you would call them...of mine....that my children have picked up naturally.  I have just hit the tip of the ice berg of what I've been noticing over the past couple of years.  Since the Big Bus Ride.  It's Eerie and it's Amazing. 
 
My point is this – what actions are we as adults taking that will affect our children?  Because, let’s face it, they are going to be in charge one day - - perhaps of the very nursing home you may find yourself in.  Not to be scary morbid.   

The following are some memories that my little family and I have made over the past few years that I wouldn't mind capturing in this little paper capsule.  One of our favorite days was when we were staying at Ed's Cape house and one gorgeous, sunny day, Kerry, Ajay, Eleanor and I swam to the raft in the ocean.  Kerry, Ajay and I took turns holding and swimming with 3 year old Eleanor.  When we got there, huffing and puffing, the Lifeguard said “Everyone off the raft!" (we were able to go on the raft after he saw Eleanor buoyed amongst us, but I will never forget the look we gave each other bobbing in the ocean, proud and tired.  Kerry took "selfies" of us that day.  Those pictures are displayed in our home.  Over the past few Summers, no matter what beach we went to, we always collected bags full of rocks (mostly heart shaped).  In the evenings when it started to cool down, we painted them and then decorated our porch and our house.   Another day, we broke down on our way home from Marshfield, and on our way to Friendlies....in a tiny car with no roof and four hungry kids.  Two teenagers and two five year olds.  What a pickle that was until I ordered a pizza to be delivered to "the black car in front of the house".  And put it on my debit card.  A lot of people thought that was funny.  We were hungry, it worked, and I did not hear a complaint in the three hours we spent waiting for AAA.  Thank you Nintendo/Smart Phone/Pizza delivery guy.  What an Adventure.  That one is in the safe.  Then there are the easy things like when we play video games together or when Kerry, Ellie and I went out in a snow storm to buy more video games for PS3, only to get snowed in.  I heart getting snowed in.  Last week, Eleanor and I took a walk in the Arboretum at dusk, down by the spooky train tracks, the snow reflected light so it was spooky but not too much.  Those are just a few moments, snippets of time forever locked in my memory bank.  But they aren't alone.  I have entire stories from so many years ago that it hurts.  The hail storm at Water Country with Ray and Kathy, Jason, Vickie and Louie.  It was an amazing magical day and I will never ever forget it.  Sometimes when the oldies come out, I go on a roller coaster ride of emotion.  I laugh a lot, but I always end in tears because so many of them were with Jason and he is in Heaven and I miss him so.   There are compartments and an entire brain filing system or something, because even as I write this, I realize that there are so many memories, it's overwhelming when they flood me like this.  I need them in their place, neat and orderly.  Mostly, I take them out, like I just did, and revel in the feelings they evoke.  Or something will trigger a memory - it doesn't matter who it was with or what it is.....you never know - - just ride.....but this time, it was like they were fighting each other to get out and wow.....that was just mind boggling.

I always wonder - - What memories will stick with my children?  What about the yelling?  How come they don't remember that I told them not to do something.....even when I yell?  There were a couple of pure psycho moments when Kerry was growing up that I know will be one of the memories deep in the crazy drawer of her cache.  But also an entire drawer of wonderful ones.  Like Jamaica and playing dominos with the guys.  I think her memories are a little different than mine of that vacation.  There are some really good ones in that drawer - lifers. 

I also think of each night when I read a story to Eleanor, I feel like we could potentially be making a solid memory at any moment.  She very well may read the same story to her child some day and vaguely remember it.  For me; I can't seem to get through the kid's book "I'll Love You Forever" without leaky eyes because of the memories it conjures.  Who knows?  Maybe, my girls will have a memory of that book making me cry and it will make them emotional.  The future is the mysterious aspect of time.  In my case, I need to just put it in cruise control and see where it takes me.  Don't worry, I'll put my seatbelt on. 

I got a little off track, because that's what happens to me when I start thinking about all of this stuff - - it all comes back to the same thing.  Time.  Once you recognize its importance, it will make you think deep thoughts and oh yeah, it speeds up a lot.

Awareness is key.  Believe it or not, the World is small.  You never know if you are going to bump into someone that you cut off at the rotary or a person that you once helped carry their groceries.  Which brings us to an entirely different conversation (one sided I know) about Karma….which is just too much of a sharp right turn.  Let's go forward instead. 

I want to go back to our episode on the bus.  My Eleanor and her recognition of the aging process at such a young.  She has said to me, “Mom, I am going to grow up and have a baby and then that baby is going to grow up and have a baby and it just keeps going and I want you to stay just like this and be with me always”.  Then she gets very upset and has a difficult time with the realization of the circle of life and we have to break it all down again and go through it - - similar to the movie Fifty First Dates.....just not daily Thank Goodness.

It was and is eerie and sad and amazing all at the same time.  She is teaching me to be more mindful.  All this time, I considered myself pretty cognizant about my surroundings and my own head but I am just figuring out lately that I have been clueless.  Reflection.  I really need to be able to get myself out of it sometimes.  I think of things I did or didn’t do and how I would do some things differently if I had the chance.  What I'm learning to do is channel that into the future.  Enjoy and Savor.  My awareness has made me more Cautious and more Daring.  I am a work in progress.

I have and will continue to soothe Eleanor’s fears about my aging by simply doing the math with her.  Then I get stuck with it and end up in the revolving door of reflection.  In the deep end of my pool of memories. 

Time.  It is a wily thing.  Sometimes when you want it to go by quickly, it won’t.  When you want it to stand still, slow the heck down or just give you two minutes, it won’t do that either.  It’s constant and uncontrollable.  Bricks on the head don’t work.  The kids will grow.  They may or may not have children of their own.  And so on and so on.  Life goes on.  What do they remember, carry on and pass on is the question…..?

As I wrap it up, I want to mention that it has been quite a while since I’ve written anything.  I can never seem to find the time.  Today, I made the time.  It has been a little slice of Heaven to sit in front of my computer and write this all down…..maybe the ticking will give me a break now that I've confessed my fears ….but probably not.  Hug your kids, listen to them speak, read them a book, interact with them, look into their little faces, remember when you were that age...... and HAVE FUN……they will remember…..and you will too.

 

Boston Strong.....................

I was born and raised in Roslindale, MA, about five miles from the Boston Marathon Finish Line. Last week, specifically Friday, while we were all on lock down, and watching our City fight back by doing what absolutely had to be done, I was never more proud to be a Bostonian.  While my heart bleeds for the families and friends of all of the victims, I applaud all of the people involved with the man hunt and all the people who stayed out of their way.  I applaud all of the business owners who didn't open Friday, I applaud all of the mothers and fathers who kept their children inside and occupied while outside all hell broke loose.

While watching the lock down on TV, seeing the images of the stark streets of Boston and hearing helicopters in the distance, I was filled with such an enormous amount of pride for our people, and impressed with the compassion and unity that was so apparent. I was amazed with the speed in which inspiring pictures and symbols were popping up on Facebook - - with one phrase in particular -

  ~ BOSTON STRONG ~

I feel that Boston Strong defines us as a community, but more importantly, it has bred throughout Boston for years and the individual culmination has created this solidarity that can only prove the old adage “power in numbers”.

I've been told that I am a “strong person” for as long as I can remember. I have family and friends and acquaintances alike that can all claim the “strong” title. I just assumed it was a universal thing. But now, after watching the events unfold and reading the various stories come about, and witnessing the community pull together in unity, I am deeply moved and touched to my core by the humanity we are blessed with here in our wonderful City of Boston.

Prior to last week's awful events, I had been mentioning to a few friends of mine that I wanted to reach out to Jennifer Graziano, creator of Mob Wives, and pitch a new show based in Boston. I would hope to banish the current image our City has from recent Reality TV shows or older movies where at least one person had a really bad accent. Wicked Single? Seriously? I want my five minutes back. Unfortunately, a piece of that five minutes was the “Work Hard and Party Harder” quote that the blonde chic blurted out and VH1 loops on commercials. It's like acid in the eye.

Boston's Finest has redeemed our rep quite a bit, but it also brings the rest of the country to the doorstep of crime and negativity in Boston.  Last week, the strength, unity and sheer determination to eradicate the evil-doers from our midst, and the bond that we all shared as Bostonians, gave the rest of the country a glimpse of our “Bad-Ass-edness”...... We should be celebrated, and not as a bunch of weird talking drunk people who are loud and obnoxious.

I have an idea and a story, and I feel as if it's a valiant one. I love my children fiercely and am raising them alone.  My eldest, Kerry is 19 and in her first year of college, and my youngest, Eleanor, is 5 and in K1. The past few years have been challenging and I've had to really think outside of the box to be able to support my children and keep our heads up. My family, friends and community really helped us when things looked grim.....personal proofs of a city full of people who ultimately stand with one another.....I am truly blessed.  My parents, God rest, were incredible people who started a Legacy of successful, wonderful human beings. I am the baby of eight children, and have 24 nieces and nephews, and 20 great nieces and great nephews......the legacy keeps expanding and it's an awe inspiring thing to watch. I also have a lot of very close friends and thousands of acquaintances as I meet people regularly in my business as a Realtor. My Dad used to say that there was a birthday every 11 days in our family, and that was over 15 years ago.....I have not taken the time to figure out the current number, but my point is more that we as a family are so wide-spread in professional fields and continue to grow in that direction that the chances are high of vast audiences being able to relate to someone in my immediate circle.....or their circle and so on and so on....like water ripples.

The long and short of it is; I think we should be on TV. This shit is too funny not to share with the rest of the Country.    

I love the show Mob Wives. I just stumbled onto it one day and then watched both season one and two on Netflix like a recluse. It was not healthy. Now, you have to understand, I am not usually into the Jersey Shore or Kardashian type of shows, so was unprepared for my own crazy obsession for watching these women dealing with difficult situations and survival....... just like me. Maybe not exactly like me, as I don't have fur coats and don't have fist fights on the regular, but you get the point. As a single mom, the pressures are high of raising two girls on either end of the age spectrum.. I have wiggled and scootched and succeeded in balancing the unbalanced for a very long time. I am always going to want more for my girls. Always. It just means that I will be continuously striving......and teaching my children that they should as well. Just about everyone I know, and everyone they know, and their two friends and so on and so on, have issues.  

That's Life.

We would all be robots if our days and nights were vanilla ice cream. Maybe I will write a book that gets turned into a TV series......or maybe I should just have a TV Series and call it “Boston Strong”, about a plethora of subjects, mainly but not limited to Family, Real Estate and Football. Sounds like a success to me.

Boston Strong, how real people struggle and succeed with a little help from their friends. <3 Love you guys.

Stay Red White and Blue Boston. You truly are inspirational.

If I owned Heaven and West Roxbury, I'd rent out Heaven and live in the BURY!

That's Jay.  He Loved West Roxbury.  He was Loyal and True..... Although, if he was with us today, a creaking guy at almost 41, he would probably have a slew of kids and live in the Suburbs. Ha Ha.  I can hear him now....."School's are expensive Berl!"

Although, I don't picture him as a golfer or anything too suburbanite-like, but most definitely a gym membership, probably to the YMCA, and he would be involved in some kind of extreme sport.....most likely a weekly game of paintball.....he would have freaking loved those indoor paintball arena like places...maybe a handball player, like my dad.  He would own a dog, for sure, maybe two....Big.....

This is starting a little sporadic, pretty much like my mind all day.....jumbled with memories, flashing from super young to older and back. Boing a Boing a Boing.  A super ball on speed.

I have been trying to sit down, rein it all in and write for most of today, (2/4/13) and I have images and impressions and nostalgia flowing through me at a million miles a minute.  It feels similar to the day I learned we lost Jason, 18 years ago.  My mind is in over-drive, trying to recreate every waking moment I had until age 24, when my world changed irrevocably.

We were so entwined, Jay and I, like siblings but not.  Aunt and Nephew.  I remember the picture of me at age 3, holding Jason as an infant and I remember the look on my face in the photo, but not the actual act of holding him........ however, I DO remember stepping on his head within the first six months of his life..........  My sister was driving my Grandpa's old fashioned station wagon......seat belts weren't even invented if you can believe that, and I was in the way way back, goofing around until Carol or my Mom, it's fuzzy, yelled at me to "get up here!"......so, I launched over each seat, like a hurdler and pop, stepped right on his head. I don't remember how hard he or they screamed or anything other than stepping on his face.  Fade Out.

The next clear memory is at age four and of my gorgeous fuzzy orange and black caterpillar....I only left him for a minute to go into the house for something!  I came out onto the back porch just as my caterpillar was being consumed by my one year old nephew.  Dumb baby.  I was horrified.  He ate my pet.  Ate it.  Didn't squish him, step on it, or poke it, kid couldn't even walk yet, how the heck did he manage to get my caterpillar and eat it so fast?  Actually, I just triggered another memory of Jay eating dog biscuits around that same time - - clearly he had digestive issues. 

I flash forward a handful of years and a boatload more nieces and nephews and remember having dinner at  brother Tommy's house, down the street.  Jay told him he was going to puke if he ate beans.  All the other kids ate them, I ate them.  But not Jason, oh, noooo - - he gagged and carried on until there was nothing left to be done.  Ha Ha.  After that, he always asked what was for dinner before accepting an invitation.  I distinctly remember rolling my eyes.

Then there was the time that the awful little kids around the corner were throwing rocks and one almost hit him, he was about 4 years old......maybe 5, so I was 7 or 8.  I remember it like it was yesterday, and in slow motion.  I stood up and yelled, "Don't you throw rocks at my Nephew!", and the rock came out of my hand as my hand fell forward, and the sound effects like do do do do do........end over end like a perfectly thrown spiral......do do do do, plunk....right between the eyes....a drop of blood, and that is all we had to see, we high tailed it out of there because we knew we were in trouble.  Barney Rubble.  Man.  I had awful aim too, but not that day.....

I remember when Jason was around six or seven, he would make up jokes.  They would make no sense at all.  He would say the same kind of poop jokes each time that made no sense and went on and on and would make him laugh and laugh.  I would always say the same thing.  "That doesn't even make sense"...the only one I can truly recall with accuracy is; "There was this guy and he was pooping all over the place and his house filled with poop so he had to open the door, but the street was filled with poop, so he was swimming in poop all the way to the poop store.  poop."  sniffle sniffle laugh laugh.  I had to laugh.  It was so ludicrous it was funny.  Jay was the original Ludicrous.

I remember the first time I was ever on a horse was with Carol and Jason, and we flew, and I developed a love for fast horses that to this day still burns strong.

Every Summer we spent a couple of weeks at Manomet.  There are parts of the beach and some back roads that I can't even walk on without being slammed into the past.   I could write another couple of blogs on those memories alone.......Green Harbor, Marshfield too.  On Brian Dowling's boat.  Water skiing, tubing, jumping off huge bridges with mad currents, or sliding down barnacle covered jettys, staying in the ocean until we were waterlogged and sun kissed.......only to swim some more.
We would both actually emerge into made up worlds no matter the season, all we had to do was make it up, describe it a little and  boom, we would be gone, off and running with it......like the "little people" in the sand dunes, or Tarzan, flying through the air on a rope swing - from the neighbor's garage roof.  Honestly, how did we not have broken limbs?

We were both on the Gator's swim team, albeit different age groups.....but I remember that no matter what big race I was in, Districts or New England's, Jay was there too.....and always Carol.  Cheering us on.  He didn't get nervous like me, he would just do it.....me, I would puke before each race. 

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Throughout the years, there were so many water slides.  We broke all the rules when it came to water park fun.  We were clever and usually only had a half hour to ride, so we did not mess around.  We would bug Carol all day while we were at the beach.....ALL DAY.... So, all bets were off when we finally got our time, every minute counted.  Jason was small and very nimble.....he could do the Russian dance where you cross your arms and kick out your feet in the chair pose.....he actually did that dance well......I think it's Russian.  Anyway, he was small, fast and fearless.....so, I would set him loose and he would run from the bottom of the staircase, through the people, to the top of the water slide....and I would run after him, yelling "Jason, stop! You can't cut people!" ......over and over again until we reached the top.....then he would stop himself halfway down the slide until I caught up and we would train the rest of the way down.......and he would run through the same line of people and so would I, saying the exact same thing, but usually laughing and splashing water all the way.  Hey, it worked.....it didn't even occur to us to change it up, or use false names.....ha ha....we were so smart....nobody said anything to us.....every Summer we pulled that.

Another clear memory is of skiing with my brother Tommy and his kids.  Tom brought Jason and I along.  After a full afternoon of lessons, of which everyone else passed with flying colors, I was still stuck on the bunny slope, shutting it down every time I tried to just "lean", until I was literally asked to just "walk up the hill if I wanted to ski".....ha ha....but not Jay.  I remember he took to skiing like a duck to water.

Years later, I may have been 20, Jay 17, we went on a weekend ski trip with my niece Dawn, and some of her friends. Jay spent the entire first day skiing backward and holding my hands......until he thought I was ready and then took me on the black diamond trail.  Boy, was he wrong about that one.  Tumble tumble tumble, ski, pole, sky, ski, pole, sky.  Luckily no flashing lights on that trip - neither po po nor ambulance. 

A couple of years later, after I went to Cali, then England and back,...  I moved to Maine and we would spend every Saturday night together.  Those were the Kara days.  I love that girl.  Kara Powderly LeBlanc....xoxo love you girl.  I am so thankful, and eternally grateful, for those nights......Time, it's a tricky and wily thing.  It's barreling past me at the speed of light and there are no handrails to slow it down.  Spend time with the people who  matter.....you might not get another chance.

I remember a few times, coming down from Maine and going out with my friends, with plans to crash at Jay's......only to "sneak" into the house very late at night...... tip toeing into a full blown party and my sister in Mexico....  big ass dog asleep, everyone else awake. And being psyched and yelling "I've got the water bed!"  Speaking of the water bed, I slept so awesome in that bed, until Jay would wake up and turn the cartoons on a little too loudly in the morning (usually at an unbelievably early hour and those Poke Mon like kind of cartoons that I didn't even like), and then laugh and laugh until I would grumble and stomp into the Living Room to see what was so funny.  We would always end up the same way, feet to feet, under his ugly as sin, brown and orange afghan blankie, waiting for the other to get up first so we could nonchalantly ask "get me a drink while you're up?".......I always lost.  Always.  Well, until I peed in a glass and tried to get him to drink the "warm lemonade"....my laughter tipped him off....that, the heat, and my willingness to not only bring him a drink, but say "ha ha ha drink it, ha ha, it's LEMONADE, drink it" ha ha...   OMG, we used to drink hot chocolate with cold milk and eat the chocolate powder bubbles with a spoon.  It was awesome.  Although, I tried it about a decade ago and it was awful.  Ha Ha....Time, playing tricks again.  Taste Bugs Change.  

  It's closing in on midnight now, and the beginning of another year of missing my boy....there are so many more stories, impressions, memories....there are millions and I have them wrapped up and tucked away, I bring them out,  shine them up and pass them around sometimes.  I am always anxious to hear about yours, so please share. I will write again and more often than once or twice a year.

I know he's watching......I can feel him with me a lot....every step of the way, just like always......xoxox love you forever...
 
I'm adding things here and there, as things come to me...I'm happy to share and want you all to know that throughout this creation, I've laughed and cried and again asked aloud "Why Jay?, Why?"

Battle of the Brothers in today's Sibling Superbowl....

The Harbaugh Parents can each pick one of their kids to root for in this year's Super Bowl XLVII.  Later tonight, in the New Orleans Georgia Dome, Baltimore Ravens coach, John Harbaugh will compete with his younger brother, San Francisco 49ers coach, Jim Harbaugh, in their quest for the Lombardi Trophy.  Beyonce will be there, and some new funny, albeit expensive, commercials will air.......Superbowl XLVII.

Big Brother against Little Brother, East Coast vs. West Coast, Retiring Emotional Line Backer versus Young New QB, An Under team vs. an Over team......  Ironical isn't it? Is it opposite day?

San Francisco is favored by 4-points, the total is 47.5.

So far, 60% of the public is all over Baltimore and the Over. Let's think about this.  Two defensive teams....although both sides can score, and in their last three meetings, 03, 07, and 2011; the Ravens prevailed, by a lot of points (38), 2 and 10-points, respectively.

Understanding that the Ravens are coming in EMOTIONAL.  It's Ray Lewis's last game.  I can remember when Ray Lewis was involved in the shaky shooting at a bar one night, the attention he received from that time, he enhanced with his leadership and consistent play, and he has since turned himself into a born again Christian who is channeling all of that emotion through his teammates in a farewell to beat all farewells.

Then we have the opposite coast, younger brother, and a pup of a QB who is gliding through games, unshaken, dead on, and perhaps a bit as if he made a deal with the devil.  Kaepernick....I guess he would have negotiated a better name for himself, but hey, who knows?  This kid doesn't seem to be easy to shake and has gone against better offensive teams and come out on top.  He led his team to wins over top notch QB's, Tommy Boy, Number 12 and Matty Ice.  Like nothing.  A snow plow.  Joe Flacco be warned.

I like San Fran breaking the trends and this Kaepernick kid taking it all the way.  IDK, the total seems a bit high for such an important game.  In my opinion, usually the game goes by quickly and each play is so calculated and examined ten fold compared to a Regular or even Post Season game.  Then again, both teams put up numbers and crazier things have happened....and it is sooo easy to slip into the Over column, let's face it - - it's way more fun to scream for points, and celebrate touchdowns.  I am not gambling on this game, but if I was, I would say..........OMG, I'm so wishy washy right now.  I want to take San Fran -4 under 47.5; but something is telling me the public might be right with Baltimore +4 and over 47.5......it's easy to get sucked into the public and what they choose, but also, the trends lean toward the public choice, which brings into question the validity of such choice.  Well, now that I have helped Not At All, ha ha, please enjoy the game, for the pure FB part of it....it's what I'm going to do.  Happy Superbowl Sunday Folks, may you eat like Kings and Queens, Enjoy the company of good friends, and Yell and Hoot at every touchdown, since in the end, who really cares who wins?  The Pats aren't in it.

Before Bedtime Banter with my Beautiful BBG...

So, before bed each night, when my five year old daughter is brushed and washed, we either read a book, or occassionally I will make up a story, whispered in the dark, with our imaginations fully engaged.  At the conclusion of said silly story, Eleanor always says "Ok, it's my turn....." and with a giggle in her tone, reiterates my story word for word.....to which I always cry "Copier!", and tackle her, we both laugh, I rub her belly and she goes to sleep. It's our pattern for silly story nights.

Flash to tonight, January 31st, we were snuggling and I started to rub Eleanor's belly, and we were just laying together nice and cozy with a few minutes of comfortable silence as I was thinking of what kind of animal the main character for my made up story would be.  I mentally listed the characters I had already used.....a frog, a squirrel, a chipmunk, a unicorn and a bear.....and I found myself speaking before my brain chose anything, but as it's my custom to make it up on the fly, the sillier the better, I didn't sweat it.....and this is what happened next......

Me:  "Once upon a time, in a land far far away, lived a very small, very white, pebble.  And  one day, it turned to it's Mother and said  "We never go anywhere, I'm bored."

....I then paused for a brief moment and followed up with "the end"

there was another brief pause before Eleanor and I burst into simultaneous laughter, and each time it sounded like it was petering out, grew in heartiness and expanded over another couple of minutes.  I had a hysterical moment with my kid.  We laughed and laughed, totally in sync with each other over this silly little imaginary pebble who was stuck on the road.  Poor pebble.

Finally, as we recovered our breath together and gave into the final sighs of laughter, Eleanor started to reiterate the story, per the norm, and we laughed and laughed all over again at her exact replica as she, for once, didn't try to pass hers off as an original.....and then I said....."aaah, that was a great story"........................to which Eleanor immediately responded "Short, but great!" as she succumbed to another wave of little girl laughter.

Aaaah, what a great night....... If only I could capture that sound.....It's like music of the pure and innocent ......and now, I've stored the experience in this time capsule of blurbs......one day I will recall it and lose myself in it's simplicity and joy and remember my little girl frozen in this moment...... I have generously shared with  you, cyber space.......and all of your minions.......a true precious moment.  And yet, a small part of myself still thinks, ......that poor little pebble.....