Seven 9s and 10s

High-res Wherein Steve invents something superbly ridiculous about which to feel guilty. My parents were on vacation for two weeks. I picked them up at the airport and drove them home last night. While we were chatting in the kitchen, I noticed one of those cheap magnet calendars that the realtors always mail out as if it’s some grand thoughtful gesture that’s going to help them to retain a client. The calendar was still on the August page, as they were away when the month changed. Without hesitation I reached up and tore off the August page to reveal September. Before I even had time to crumple it and toss it in the garbage, a wave of guilt washed over me. The first thought to come into my mind: “What if tearing that page each month is something my mom looks forward to? I just ruined that for her.” Ironically, the unnecessary guilt that I feel every day for little things like that was very likely ingrained in me by my mom and my Catholic upbringing. Anyway. Sometimes I’m crazy. Hi.

Wherein Steve invents something superbly ridiculous about which to feel guilty.

My parents were on vacation for two weeks. I picked them up at the airport and drove them home last night. While we were chatting in the kitchen, I noticed one of those cheap magnet calendars that the realtors always mail out as if it’s some grand thoughtful gesture that’s going to help them to retain a client. The calendar was still on the August page, as they were away when the month changed.

Without hesitation I reached up and tore off the August page to reveal September. Before I even had time to crumple it and toss it in the garbage, a wave of guilt washed over me. The first thought to come into my mind:

“What if tearing that page each month is something my mom looks forward to? I just ruined that for her.”

Ironically, the unnecessary guilt that I feel every day for little things like that was very likely ingrained in me by my mom and my Catholic upbringing.

Anyway. Sometimes I’m crazy. Hi.

Mom (by Steelopus) Born December 1, 1945 in Teramo, province of Teramo, Abruzzo, Italy. The date of this photo is unknown. My guess would be sometime in 1952-1955. Life has rarely been easy for that little girl, but she’s been strong through everything and I’m a better person because of the struggles that she’s faced and overcome. (Google Maps)

Mom (by Steelopus)

Born December 1, 1945 in Teramo, province of Teramo, Abruzzo, Italy.

The date of this photo is unknown. My guess would be sometime in 1952-1955.

Life has rarely been easy for that little girl, but she’s been strong through everything and I’m a better person because of the struggles that she’s faced and overcome.

(Google Maps)

High-res This is my parents on their wedding day in 1965. Believe me when I tell you my mom hasn’t aged a day since. Every time I find myself struggling and thinking my life is just too damn difficult, I stop and think about all that she’s gone through. She was born and raised in rural town of Teramo, Italy and when she was just 11 years old her family piled onto a big boat and crossed the Atlantic ocean with hundreds of other immigrants. She hardly knew a word of english yet she made friends, graduated from high school, and by 20 she had married my dad. 46 years, 4 children, and countless hardships and lost loved ones later, she’s still going strong and continuing to demonstrate what it means to be a good person. Her life has been a continuous series of hard decisions and selflessness and to this day I’m still learning lessons about how to know what’s right and what’s wrong and when it’s best to sacrifice yourself and your time for others and when it’s best to put yourself first. Thank you mom. You’re the best and I love you.

This is my parents on their wedding day in 1965. Believe me when I tell you my mom hasn’t aged a day since. Every time I find myself struggling and thinking my life is just too damn difficult, I stop and think about all that she’s gone through.

She was born and raised in rural town of Teramo, Italy and when she was just 11 years old her family piled onto a big boat and crossed the Atlantic ocean with hundreds of other immigrants. She hardly knew a word of english yet she made friends, graduated from high school, and by 20 she had married my dad. 46 years, 4 children, and countless hardships and lost loved ones later, she’s still going strong and continuing to demonstrate what it means to be a good person. Her life has been a continuous series of hard decisions and selflessness and to this day I’m still learning lessons about how to know what’s right and what’s wrong and when it’s best to sacrifice yourself and your time for others and when it’s best to put yourself first.

Thank you mom. You’re the best and I love you.

High-res This picture is old. It’s been sitting in my drafts since June 28, 2009. We were celebrating dad’s 73rd birthday. Today is my parent’s 45th wedding anniversary, so I’ll just go ahead and use this picture to celebrate that occasion. Their success simultaneously gives me hope and makes me depressed that I continue to grow older yet can’t seem to find anyone that I’d like to spend 45 years with, let alone anyone that would want to spend 45 years with me. 45 years.  They don’t make marriages like they used to.

This picture is old. It’s been sitting in my drafts since June 28, 2009. We were celebrating dad’s 73rd birthday.

Today is my parent’s 45th wedding anniversary, so I’ll just go ahead and use this picture to celebrate that occasion.

Their success simultaneously gives me hope and makes me depressed that I continue to grow older yet can’t seem to find anyone that I’d like to spend 45 years with, let alone anyone that would want to spend 45 years with me.

45 years.  They don’t make marriages like they used to.

Not Happy

It took my mom all of 5 minutes to spill the ONE secret I wanted to keep from my neighbors: that I work on computers for a living.

FUCK!

I’m going to print this classic post from Michele, give it to my mom, and ask her to read it and try to see things from my perspective for a change.  She’s a saint: she’ll do anything for anyone at anytime and give up her life to make sure others are taken care of, and I love her for that, but that’s not who I am.

High-res Mom and Calli. For someone who never let me have a pet, my mom sure loves pets…:-/ One of these days I’ll learn how to use my camera to shoot non-shitty pictures of people.

Mom and Calli.

For someone who never let me have a pet, my mom sure loves pets…
:-/

One of these days I’ll learn how to use my camera to shoot non-shitty pictures of people.

High-res GCPOYT November 18, 1979Mom, Grandma, and me.Mom is looking utterly gorgeous, as usual. 30 years later and she has barely aged a day. No joke.I wish I could’ve known grandma at this age.  There are so many stories I’d love to hear about Italy and her childhood and the wars and life.

GCPOYT

November 18, 1979

Mom, Grandma, and me.
Mom is looking utterly gorgeous, as usual. 30 years later and she has barely aged a day. No joke.
I wish I could’ve known grandma at this age.  There are so many stories I’d love to hear about Italy and her childhood and the wars and life.

Why I go to church on Easter morning.

  • Out of a deep respect for my mother, who might very well be next in line to be pope after this dude dies.
  • It’s a genuinely awesome story.  Whether or not we choose to believe it, none of us should deny that it’s pretty awesome, and perhaps even more impressive if it’s all invented (The Greatest Story Ever Told?).  All religion is pretty interesting when you really dig into it.
  • I usually go alone which means I don’t really have to talk to anyone and I can stand in the back or on the side and just observe the proceedings.  Yes, I’m judging most of the people there, like the parents with their flamingly gay son wearing a bright purple shirt under a white jacket, and the old people who themselves sit there judging everyone else for not wearing a suit or a dress or not following along with the traditions - even though their religion tells them not to judge others, and the parents who let their teenage daughters wear too-much makeup and too-short skirts to a so-called holy place of worship.
  • To see (watch) people I knew in high school.  Maybe they were friends, usually they weren’t, but I like to see how they turned out.
  • It’s usually true when they say the “hot girls” get “uglier” and the “ugly girls” get “hotter.”  I don’t feel guilty for thinking about that kind of stuff in a church.
  • Oh, she’s appears to be single… nice.  If you need me I’ll be available on Facebook chat while I see what she’s been up to for the past 10 years and then close the page without making any attempt at communication with her because I’m anti-social to a fault.
  • Stop judging me!
  • I like when the priest walks by and sprinkles holy water on everyone.  It’s like we’re the fans at a sweltering rock concert and he’s in the band spraying us with his water bottle.
  • What?  It’s not like that at all?  Yes it is.  Shut up.
  • The body of Christ is the most delicious little cracker in this world.  I wish I could buy those wafers and put cheese and pepperoni on them to make little tiny Jesus Pizzas.
  • I’d probably put Nutella on the wafers too.  I bet that’d be delicious.  Nutella Jesuses.
  • What was I talking about?
  • Now I’m gonna go listen to Jesus Christ Superstar for the millionth time.
  • Maybe Ian Gillian is actually the second coming of Jesus and his gift to the world is Smoke On The Water, Highway Star, and the rest of his excellent work with Deep Purple.  And maybe the day of reckoning will come at the hand of his servant Richie Blackmore’s blistering riffs.
  • Oh look!  I found some jelly beans!