The Virgo in Us

My maternal Grandma, known to some Rita the Great, Ma, and G-Ma, died of breast cancer June 28^th, 2007.  Her birthday was August 24^th, and she would soon be celebrating her 78^th birthday if she was still alive.  Neither she, nor I, really paid/pay attention to astrological signs, but we are both Virgos and I think we fit into the description quite nicely, actually almost scarily so.  I copied the section below, a description of a typical virgo, from http://www.myaquariusvirgo.com/:

I love the matching hair!

The Virgo woman is a highly organized, systematic and intelligent person able to discern the finer things in life through a methodical and often purposive approach. Dogmatic in character, the professional Virgo female is often described as a career woman, able to command respect and admiration from subordinates, peers and superiors alike for her professional competence.

The Virgo woman is driven by success, more often defined by the financial standing she inadvertently gets. She achieves this through sheer wit and intellect as well as her natural inquisitiveness for the truth. Being gifted with critical thinking abilities and the desirable trait of creative and imaginative thinking fueled by a sharp memory, the Virgo woman can find success in law enforcement, research, investigations, sciences, linguistics, accounting or even book-keeping.

Much like any other Virgo, the Virgo woman plays the role of the ever amiable diplomat settling disputes with uncanny proficiency and without the need for coercion or the use of means other than peaceful ones. This makes her a very significant figure in negotiation tables as well as a major player as a trusted and equally gifted business partner. Her ability to balance and harmonize personal issues with professional concerns makes her an ideal employee or even an excellent business partner.

As a person, the Virgo woman is very active and has a penchant for being a health buff. This is anchored on the perfectionism or the highly organized nature of the Virgo which strives a perfect balance and harmony of the different aspects of one's life. The Virgo woman enjoys talking, walking, and reacting albeit to the detriment of some persons who would rather stay put in one place.

She is generally a charming, witty, realistic, down-to-earth, honest, dedicated, helpful, gentle, organized, systematic, and perfectionist type of person. Out of these characteristics come the not-so-good things about the Virgo woman which includes restless, anxious, worrisome, dogmatic, cranky, irritable, and very critical. It's in her being irritable and overly critical at times that turns off most people.

The Virgo Female is also agreeable and cheerful, necessary traits to complement her unparalleled dignity and charm. She can remain loyal, truthful, straight thinker and determined to her partner in a relationship. Her devotion and reliability to a relationship is sought after by many that they are willing to wait in line to gain the trust and friendship of a Virgo woman.

Virgo woman adores men who are intelligent and well-read. So instead of bringing her expensive gifts, show her what you've got between your ears. She won't stay long with someone she can't respect so be sure to act appropriately when you're with her. If you can handle criticisms well, falling for a Virgo woman would suit you fine. After all, females in this zodiac are known to be perfectionists. Do not take this negatively however because she can bring out the best in you.

When my Grandma died, she willed her house in Old Lyme, CT to her six children.  They rented it out over the past four years and sold it at the beginning of this summer. It was the last (large) physical stamp of her presence and I know it was emotional for her children to sell it due to the symbolic importance (she struggled, but managed to keep a roof over thier head as they grew up). Luckily, they all agreed it was the best thing to do. A few weeks ago I received a check for $250.00 from my Aunt Kitty, who is the executer of my Grandma’s estate.  She sent checks to all of the grandchildren who did not receive money from Grandma for their weddings. 

In the accompanying letter, Aunt Kitty advised us to use it wisely. I thought about that for a while.  If my Grandma was alive, she would encourage me to be responsible and take care of unpaid debts. Luckily, I’m in the black, so I thought she would be okay with me spending it.

Instead of depositing the $250.00, I cashed it, put it in an envelope and kept track of how I spent it and made a mental note of why she would approve.  This is where the money went:

$10.00 – Fresh Flowers

She was an avid gardener later in life. Plus, flowers are beautiful and make people happy.

$ 23.00 – Two bottles of wine for Jeff

She loved wine and she loved Jeff. Jeff loves wine, too. Simple as that.

$96.00 – Manicure and Pedicure for myself and very close friend, Kristin Beattie.

I got my first manicure with my Grandma when I was 13 years old and I’ve basically been getting them every week since. She had beautiful hands and I still remember what they looked like. She loved Kristin, too.

$83.00 – A necklace, of an Irish Thorn, for myself, by one of my favorite jewelers, Michael Michaud.

She always wore jewelry. One St. Patrick’s Day, probably the year before she passed, she wore a vest with jewelry all over it.  She wore tons of rings, bracelets, necklaces, too.  If someone commented or complimented her, she took it off and gave it to them.  I loved that she did that…that’s so Rita.

It looks like a pussy willow

$38.00 – The first deposit of our baby’s saving account.

She managed money like nobody’s business. She was a single Mom of six and could pinch pennies better than anyone else I know. She worked very hard, saved, strategized, prioritized and did whatever it took to make sure that her family came out on top and most importantly had good values, manors and class even when they didn’t have money, which was most of the time. 

Lastly, I’ve been organizing and purging our apartment as we prepare for the arrival of Little Rigs. While cleaning out my desk, I found a USB stick, plugged it in to check its contents, and to my surprise it discovered it was all the files from my Grandma’s computer. Jeff had a made a backup when he helped her buy a new computer back in 2007.  I didn’t snoop or read anything that seemed personal or private, but I did copy two files that caught my attention. They were titled “Books I’ve Read” and “Great Movies”.  Sure enough, they were extremely detailed and organized lists of books she read and movies from 1999 to 2006. She included her thoughts on over 100 books and 30 movies. 

If she were still alive, I know she would be proud of my list-making skills and task-master personality. 

The Golden Months

We went on our final vacation before Little Rigs arrives, a few weekends ago. Jeff let me choose and book the entire trip with giving very little input.  I know he would have preferred to go to Paris or Sao Paulo, but I wanted a short flight, no crowds, a pool, a beach, and to avoid adventurous or stressful situations at all costs. Which, in a nutshell, describes Jeff’s antithesis of a vacation. 

Jeff pretending to love Florida!

Given my parameters, I decided we should go to Florida. Out of all 50 states Jeff has visited, this is his least favorite. It’s certainly not in my top 10, but its got its perks.  As we waited at the bar in Jet Blue’s Terminal 5 to board our flight to Naples, panic rushed over me. In the distance, in front of the gate door, I saw hoards of senior citizens pushing and shoving, anxiously waiting to be the first to board the plane.  When the gate attendant announced that passengers needing extra time to board the aircraft could do so, they all rushed forward.  Jeff and I hung back and looked dumbfounded at one another.   Jeff asked me, “why is it that you always like to vacation with seniors?”  Before getting defensive, I thought about some of my most recent trips...Vermont, Las Vegas, Alaska, San Diego and realized he had a point.

I thought about what he said some more on our flight and it dawned on me that pregnant ladies and old people have so much in common and it makes perfect sense that they choose to vacation in the same spots.

1.  They go to bed early

2.  They need to go to the bathroom all the time

3. They like low-impact activities like swimming and nature walks

4.  They don’t like standing for long periods of time

5. They’re body does weird things and takes on weird shapes

6.  They fart and pretend they didn’t

7.  They prefer juice to alcohol

8.  They’re particular about packing snacks and finding shade

9.  They wear elastic-waist pants

10. They need help tying or buckling their shoes

We stayed at Naples Grand Beach Resort and it was exactly what I had in mind.   This is what made it the perfect babymoon destination:

1. They had three pools, one for families, which we avoided completely, a lap pool, which was empty and I used alone every morning, and an adult pool, which we used during the day.

2. They had great desserts and ice cream bar every day from 12 – 3PM.  Just a dollar a scoop! No coupons, needed!

3. They had a long list of virgin cocktails...every pregnant ladies dream!

4. They had a beautiful and peaceful spa that offers an awesome pre-natal massage.

5. Naples, as a city, is very pretty, nice and safe but there’s little to do aside from shop and eat. It forced us to relax.

6. The beach was beautiful, clean, sandy and calm.  They had lounge chairs and umbrellas for rent, which they also set up and take down.

7. The path to the beach went through a beautiful, shaded, mangrove….nature walk, anyone? But, if you didn't feel like walking, they would drive you there on the golf cart. 

8. It’s hot and humid, but there’s central air everywhere, just like Las Vegas.

9. The breakfast buffet, albeit pricey, was one of the best I’ve experienced.  It blew Hometown Buffet, out of the water.

10. Given its their off-season, there were no crowds!

So, I’m giving the wheels on my suitcase a break for a bit, but Jeff and I are both addicted to travel, so this baby better get on board with our jet-setting ways real quick. 

Or, we’ll just leave the baby behind with the grandparents.   It’s hard to imagine, but I think they love babies even more than pregnant ladies and new parents do.

I'm glowing from a sunburn, not pregnancy

Time Well Spent

Writing a blog about my Dad is much easier than buying him a Father’s Day gift because just like all other dads, he already has everything he wants.  Secondly, it’s guaranteed to be appreciated by him, because unlike my Mom, I know he’ll read it.  He’s a fan of mine, and he even reminds me to update my blog when more than a week has passed.  “Ashley, your blog is a little stale”, he says.

5th Grade Graduation

As a young girl, at times, I was jealous of my friends’ Dads who put on a suit and tie in the morning, hopped in their newly leased sedan and drove to some corporate office 30 minutes away.   My Dad, on the other hand, put on a t-shirt and jeans, tinkered around the yard or garage, made lunches for us and then headed off to his contracting job in his work van, a disorganized toolshed, on wheels. 

When we forgot those lunches at home, he was usually there to drop them off at school. He’s a self-employed contractor, loves his work and for the most part, always has.  He loves the freedom it gives him, the ability to craft something with his hands, and the time it allows him to spend doing other things he loves equally.  My Dad created a work-life balance that many dream about.   I appreciated this more and more as I got older and understand this completely as a young professional embarking on starting a family.

He carved out the perfect life for himself and his family.  A life that allowed him to spend time with my Mom, his two daughters, his family and friends and of course his many toys (boat, motorcycle, golf clubs, mountain bike, skis, tools).

Swimming in R.I. 1990

Here are 10 great memories of time spent with my Dad:

10. Vacations. Camping at Burlingame, fall weekends in Vermont, summers in Rhode Island, the Tropicana in Las Vegas, touring Ireland, mountain biking in Montana. He was always there and fully committed to them.

9. Boating and waterskiing. He held me in shallow water when I was 6 years old, while my Uncle Steve slowly drove the boat away. I popped right out of the water and have been waterskiing ever since. I learned how to slalom ski, about 10 years later, while he was driving the boat yelling at me, to get in back in because he doubted my ability to get it on the 5^th try.  After he said that and pissed me off, I hung on tighter than ever before and got up. My Mom, the spotter, loved every second of it.  We all did.

Martha's Vinyard

8. Motorcycle ride to Martha's Vinyard when I was 14.

      7. Christmas photo time.  Every year, without fail, he cracks me up.  He has no shame dressing like an elf in tights, walking around town in a figure skating costume, and wearing fake-teeth while he pays for the photo session at Sears. 

                                                           6. Snowboarding and skiing. My parents taught me how to ski at a young age and my Dad and I started snowboarding when I was 14 years old. We’ve skied all over New England together. 

5. Swimming.  He came to almost every swim meet, be it at Beachland Park, Cornerstone pool, or somewhere across the state of CT.   He taught me how to dive while living on Ledgewood Rd.  He has always been the first one to run into the cold Atlantic Ocean, to body surf waves and he would stay in for as long as we wanted him to.

4. Watching him foster parent Robert and Cody.  I had the unique experience of watching my Dad parent our two young foster brothers while I was high school and for many years following. He loved them like they were his own and they had no problem acting as if they were.

3. Playing softball.   He coached my town league and played catch with me in the yard. He came to all of those games too.

2. My wedding day.  He walked me down the aisle with my Mom, and gave an awesome and emotional (as expected) toast, then we danced our choreographed Waltz, and then my favorite of course, non-choreographed dancing followed.

1. All the ordinary, non-monumental times the we’ve shared and continue to share that blend over time but are not forgotten; the rides in his van, him making the "I love you" sign out his window as he drove away, hanging off of his bicep as a little girl, the bear hugs, being carried, while asleep, up the stairs, grilling in the back-yard, waiting for him to clean the pool so I could jump in, having a glass a wine with him at the kitchen counter, sitting near him at a bonfire.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Thank you for spending so much time with me. 

1st Place Goes to the Whale Shark

Last week, I officially decided to put running on hold for the remainder of my pregnancy.  My runs the week before last, were slow and annoying.  I felt like I had to pee, although I didn’t really need to, the entire time.  On a typical morning run I would chat with my running partner, enjoy the scenery and clear my mind, but lately, there’s been no enjoyment, just the constant fear of peeing all over myself. I’m embarrassed to say that my fear is warranted, because I did pee in my pants, a few years ago while riding my bike with a urinary tract infection.  For the record, and probably to Jeff’s and my good friend Kacey’s, disappointment, I’d like to reserve all future bathroom emergencies for the baby.  

I spent this past weekend in West Hartford, CT hanging with my parents, while Jeff was away at Bonneroo.  I went to the reservoir with my Mom on Saturday morning, as I do on every visit home, but this time with the expectation that she would run and I would walk.  Perhaps, it was the cool rainy weather or that I didn’t want to be left behind, that I decided to give running one last go. I’m so happy I did.  Even though I couldn’t keep pace with my Mom the entire time, I felt great, completed the two-mile loop with a smile and not in search of a bathroom.  So perhaps, I really will achieve my goal of running through my 2^nd trimester.  And when the time comes to hang up my sneakers, I’m prepared. Actually, I love my pre-natal workout routine, and I’d be okay with a running hiatus.

On Monday and Friday mornings I head down the street to my fabulous Pilates studio for the 1-hour class at 6:30AM.  The studio has one incredibly talented owner/instructor, named Susan, one reformer, four mats, and about a dozen stability balls. Apparently, the ‘hood doesn’t have many early risers because I’m often the only client.  Which means that I get a private lesson, on the reformer, for the price of a group mat class.  This is unheard of in NYC, perhaps, even the world!

Thursdays, after work, I hop on the train and head downtown to the indoor pool at Clarement Prep School just off of Wall Street for Aqua Mom. The 8-week program, which has a ridiculously long waitlist, consists of 8 to 10 pregnant ladies swimming laps and doing water aerobics with the help of noodles, flippers, kickboards, foam dumbbells, and music.  It’s a serious workout and I take it really seriously.  I’d like to suggest to Andrea, the instructor, that she consider having try-outs or cuts.

Notice the whale-shark pattern! 

As I slice through the water like a shark, er, whale shark, you know, large but with grace, I get annoyed with my classmates. When their not clinging to the wall with foot cramps, they’re acting as if we’re meandering down the Lazy River at Disney World. Meanwhile, the competitive swimmer in me has come out in full-force, and my internal monolog is brutal and something like this; ‘honey, if you didn’t know how to do the breaststroke before you got pregnant, now is not the time to learn, and sorry to say, but that spec of a kickboard isn’t gonna keep you, your ass, and your unborn baby above water any more than a deflated arm float, now move aside, ‘cause I’m about to do a flip-turn up in in your face.’ Then, I fake smile as I swim by.  

Just upon leaving class last week, Andrea, handed me a clear, waterproof Aqua Mom “purse”. I politely accepted the gift and thought, oh neat, a change purse for my gym bag, just as she said, “it’s for your wet suit.”  I fake smiled again and laughed to myself.  The only piece of my suit that would fit in that teeny thing is the bra-cup inserts, should I choose to remove them, which works for me, because I never know what to do with those things anyway.  Meanwhile, I’ll continue to use one of those giant blue Ikea shopping bags for my hauling my whale-sized suit to and from class. 

The Vermonster

My first visit to Burlington, Vermont was in the fall of 1999.  My Sister was visiting her good friend, Jay, who was going to college in the Green Mountain State, and I tagged along. As we drove up Route 89N, I questioned why anyone would want to live so far up north, in the middle of nowhere.  

I can’t recall the details of that weekend, but we must have had fun.   I left convinced that that was where I should spend the next four years of my life.

Immediately upon returning home from that weekend trip, I filled out the early-decision application for Saint Michael’s College, in Colchester, just a few minutes east of Burlington and less than four hours north of Hartford, CT.   

I loved Burlington right away. I loved the small size (pop 38,000), the nearby ski mountains, Lake Champlain, the restaurants and shops on Church Street. The city was mellow and manageable and the people were friendly and interesting.   

Much to my surprise, college didn’t turn out to be the best time of my life.  Collegiate swimming was anything but fun, and friends were hard to make. Mostly, I was broke, lonely and insecure.  But, even then, I still loved Burlington.

I’ve been meaning to go back and visit ever since I graduated in December 2003 and finally after 8 years, this weekend, that’s just what I did. 

The Jet Blue flight from JFK to Burlington International Airport is about 50 minutes, just enough time for them to offer their limited snack and beverage service (cookies or cashews only….uh, no Munchies) and barely enough time for me make a dent in my book.

I don't look it,
but I'm so excited to be drinking N/A wine!

When we arrived on Saturday we checked into our hotel, then hopped in our sweet Chevy Cruze rental car (um, yeah, bucket seats and pregnant ladies should never meet) and I gave Jeff a quick tour of Colchester, Winooski, and St. Mike’s before we made our way downtown for lunch at Leunig’s Bistro.

That night we took a stroll by the Winooksi River and had dinner at Our House, a spot new to me, in Winooski.  I ordered the open-faced turkey sandwich, the closest match to my favorite sandwich ever – the Vermonster!  We would have eaten at Waterworks Restaurant, my employer back in the day, so that I could have said sandwich, but unfortunately, they went out of business several years ago.

We decided to pass on the
home gym for Little Rigs

The next day we got up early and met up with Jay (he never left town), his lovely wife Maegan, and their friends to watch the Vermont City Marathon pass by thier house.   After that, Jeff and I checked out the Magic Hat Brewery and went on a unsuccessful hunt for some nursery furniture.

On Monday, while I got an awesome, 60-minute prenatal massage, Jeff sampled pretty much every beer at The Farm House.  I left my appointment relaxed and happy, but when I saddled up to the bar next to Jeff, I could tell right away, he had me beat.  He wasn’t ready to leave, so I ordered a Clausthaler and we split a killer cheese and pate platter (pasteurized, of course).   The trip concluded with some ice cream from Ben & Jerry’s.

The Farm House 

I still love Burlington, Vermont. And, I’m happy to say, I think that this is the best time in my life.

And for those of you interested in trying a Vermonster:

 2 slices toasted sourdough bread

½ thinly sliced Granny Smith apple

2 slices deli turkey

2 slices sharp cheddar cheese

2 tbsp of cranberry mayonnaise  (just mix canned cranberry sauce with a little mayo)

Enjoy!

Egg Surprise!

This bright and sunny Sunday morning, I was cutting up a hard-boiled egg and found, to my surprise, twins!  

I felt like a little kid again, opening the momma dog's Velcroed stomach (so odd, in retrospect) of Puppy Surprise! Which sadly, I don't think I ever owned, but I remember playing with.  I never knew anyone who won the jackpot and found five puppies inside.  I do know that that's what every little girl hoped for.  

I have to say, as exciting as multiples are, I was relieved to see only one embryo in my first ultrasound, at least for this first go-around.   Immediately after opening that egg, it reminded me to call my Mom and wish her a Happy Mother's Day.

I usually see my Mom on Mother's Day but since my Parents just visited us for Easter and we were home the weekend before that, it didn't make sense this year.   I sent her a card and Lululemon workout gear instead.   It was a nice and thoughtful gift, but nothing like the gift I made for her a few years ago. 

For Mother’s Day 2009, I polled my Sister and Dad for advice and teachings we've learned from my Mom, over our lifetime.   I edited the list, matted and framed it. She loved my hand-made, heartfelt present, just like all moms do.  

I've learned a lot from my Mom over the years and continue to do so, so much so that I could probably write a new list, with fresh material, every year.   Most of what I've learned from her, I am confident I will also do, and do well.  

However, as I embark on becoming a Mom, there are a few things about my Mom's personality that made her a perfect fit for the job.  My mom does not stress easily and she is not uptight.  Unlike her, and this scares me more than anything else, I'm a worrier, a stressor and eek, uptight.  From what I can tell, I don't think that makes for a fun and relaxed Mom.  She never really seemed to care if we got clothes dirty, climbed a tree too high, biked too fast or far ahead, messed up a recipe, used glue and permanent pens, made her late, or puked on the nice sheets. 

Possum Surprise!
This momma looks a little stressed. Wonder why?!

So, next year, this time, I hope that I'm a little bit more like Teri. Calm and cool, possibly with glitter on hands, puke on my favorite shirt, and a smile on my face.

Happy Mother's Day to the mom I want to be just like!

Fresca & Molasses Cookies

My Dad’s Mom, my Grandma, Julie Michaud, better known to my cousins and me as Memé, or Memere, passed away a week ago today.  She was 86 and had been suffering with dementia, among other ailments, for the past couple of years. 

In my 28 years of knowing her, I have nothing but pleasant memories.  Here are a few of my favorites:

When I was 5 or 6 years old, I woke up early one morning and asked my parents to make me pancakes.  Still asleep, they turned me down.  Out of frustration and my desire for pancakes, I decided to walk to Meme’s house in Elmwood, about 2 miles away from home.  I don’t think I got down the block before my parents caught up with me.  From an early age I knew, had I made it there, I would have gotten what I wanted.  Meme’s house was our sanctuary.   She cooked us whatever we wanted, had kitchen cabinets stocked with cookies, a fridge filled with soda, an unlimited supply of knickknacks for us to play with, and never-ending love for her 18 grandchildren.

Growing up, my parents went out on dates most Saturday nights, which meant, my Sister and I spent at them Memé’s & Pepé’s house. As kids, Shawna and I would set up a few folding TV dinner tray tables in front of the open door of the front hall closet and play “interior designer” or “fashion designer”.  One of us would sit in the closet/office while the other would play the customer on the other side of the tables.  We would use the scrap material and buttons from our Memé’s work as a seamstress and create pretend dresses and curtains.  When we got tired of that, we watched Nick at Nite, drank chocolate milk, and eventually fell asleep on the living room couch or waterbed in her guest room.

Every year, sometimes twice a year, she would take my sister and I shopping for new school or spring clothes.   When we were younger, the $100 would go a long way at TJ Maxx or JC Penney.  As we got older, the budget remained the same even though our tastes changed and clothes more expensive.   We were still so appreciative.  Afterwards, she would take us out to lunch, usually to Burger King.  I always wanted McDonald’s, just across the street, but was too polite to speak up.   Plus, I knew she liked Burger King more.

As a college student, and French minor, I wrote her letters in French and she would write me back just the same.   I can’t write, or sadly even speak in French any more, but I like that we shared that connection, even if only for a semesters of my life.  I knew that made her proud.

I love that she met Jeff and adored him.  Before we moved to New York, we would have dinner with her and Pepe at their house. She would offer us red wine with ice and while Pepe would make anti-semitic jokes.  I was so embarrassed, but Jeff found it amusing.  He’d smirk at me and I new he was a keeper.  In the last few years of her life, sometimes she would have a hard time placing my face or name, but she always recognized Jeff and was quick to squeeze his hand hello.  That was good enough for me.

She will remain a fixture in my memory and heart just as much as she was a fixture at every swim meet, softball game, musical production, graduation, birthday party, art exhibition, family and holiday celebration.  

She will be missed.