George Was Right

.....No, not Dubya.

Dr. George, my chiropractor and friend. He told me that nothing urgent was wrong w/ my back, that he righted everything that was out, and that it was probably move-related stress. I gave him the skeptical raised eyebrow and relented. "Hmph, we'll see, George," I thought.

About 10 minutes later, driving back home, I called his office to say he was right. I felt pretty good.

This has been such a crazy week. Jason has packed most of the house but has drawn the line with my personal items, clothes, workstation, and things of mine in the storage closets. I have been working, shuttling kids, bike riding with kids, working, sleeping, and doing it all again the next day. I'm too tired to pack at the end of the day. How will it ever get done, I wonder.

But, I bet George would say it will all work out. It has to: Saturday is the move day.

I wonder if George is free on Friday night to help me pack.

I'm as Mad as Hell, and I'm Not Going to Take This Anymore!

When I'm mad, I write. From scorned love, to mean girls, to bitter ex-boyfriends with big chips on their shoulders, and to contractors who don't show up do to the freaking work (and thankfully all of these numbers are few...but still annoying). You all know who you are. A waste of time, reminds my friends. Wasted energy. I've been called an idealist, and I guess I am. I keep thinking people will change, or just simply evolve from their primitive form (damn dirty apes)....and just become kind, courteous human beings whom care for another's feelings. A**holes. I wash my hands of you (in my Pamela Anderson water panties)!

I was 11 when the movie, Network came out, which made a lasting impression. I want to get up, run to my window, and shout, "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!"

But, it's late. I'm tired and out of steam. Plus the neighbors might not be fond of this drama. Oh well. Tomorrow's another day. But one where I officially start a new chapter, because even though I'm not running to a window, and sure, I'm mad as hell - I am not going to take this anymore.

What Happens at Katie's, Stays at Katie's

Going away party last night. Beer, shots of tequila, Mike's Hard lemonades, and other items just took a while for me to recover from today. The tequila - it was a gift from Lisa down the street (there won't be much left for margaritas next week, but boy, did we have a super time last night!). I sure am going to miss these neighbors, these friends. 11 years, from the scary Silvia days (a certifiable and sick neighbor we watched leave in a body bag), 11+ years of often Fergie-sponsored block parties, the party where the crazy girl threw up in the wok, living through the transvestite brothel months, having 2 babies while living in this house - both delivered walking to and from the hospital after 2 c-sections and just 2 nights in!, and just this past Friday baby #1 finally learned how to ride his bike (sans training wheels) on the street.

As I posted the list of everyone on the street for the new folks moving in, and added notes about "who's who" and who got entered in bold as "awesome neighbor" with dog and cat names, to the very few bare "nice" or "don't know them well" - I stood back and realized - all of these fabulous people would now be THEIR neighbors. They better be some cool folks moving in to our house. We're handing over a lot of memories in this excel spreadsheet of our little black book.

Coincidentally, the only two families in our enclave, us and Stephanie and Mike, are moving out on the same day. We're somewhat of a rare breed, having small kids in this section of the city. But as luck or life would have it, Jen is pregnant, and Patrick and Eddie are adopting in like, June! We've carried the torch for the neighborhood for the most of the 11 years. Now, it's their turn. It will certainly be weird to return to the block party in May and have to use someone else's bathroom - where it used to be ours as one of the home bases. Maybe Anna Nicole will also have to make a triumpant return just in time for Halloween this year - she was certainly the hit this past year (and always a slam-dunk standby costume, safely tucked away in the bottom drawer next to the faux urn of J. Howard Marshall).

Too often I find that I am just getting to know someone just as they are moving on. It's kinda like May and June of teaching - just as you get to know the kids, it's almost summer vacation. And last night was similar - here we were sharing crazy stories about teachers we knew in common (even from upstate NY), to even wild vignettes about our pre-neighbor days, the kinds of things you only reveal to friends who could possibly appreciate the sentiments. And though it took me until about 2:00pm today to feel like I was recovering from the night before, I did remember waking up feeling grateful that not only were we surrounded by wonderful people whom look out for each other, I also felt thankful (or hopeful) that whatever happens at Katie's, stays at Katie's.

Full Circle

O…M….G. Love Gutter reunion show - June 9th!!! Details to follow. I hope I remember how to play a guitar! I already placed a call to my 14-year old nephew, David, who plays in a metal band in central NJ, to see if I could borrow back my bass and amp for a while. When my 7-year old heard the news, he cheered, “You’re getting the band back together? Yeah!! I can’t wait to tell my friends!” I hope he doesn’t. Sure, I can play the standard 3-5 chords in a punk song on rhythm guitar, and play very basic bass - but put me up against other musical moms and dads in the city (or nearly any other musician, period) - Chuck Treece, Leaiana, Matt M. from Scram!, or Rich Kaufman - well, I completely suck, or a little less self-degradingly, pale in comparison.

Mini-Me #1 next asks if he can do a song with the band. A “veteran” acoustic guitarist at the age of, oh, pardon me, 7 ½, Declan recently had his first recital where he wowed the crowds at his little, progressive school in town w/ a rendition of the theme from Star Wars on the high E string. This was a departure from the standard first piece, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and completely D.’s idea. Imagine my surprise that a child of mine would stray from the mainstream...(insert hint of sarcasm here). I do laugh because where Boy Wonder and I share this surfer-like quality of “wherever life takes you”, and I, too, was a rather easy-going young one - well, Mini-Me #2 is just, so…..Not.

I chalk this up to her getting more of the Long Island genes vs. the upstate NY genes, although there are varying levels of differing opinions on this. Either way, I give thanks to Clairol, Redken, Dr. Hauschka and Origins - for allowing me to hide the scars of surviving the past 4 years with the most pint-sized, type-A gymnast and future attorney. My friend Pete summed it up at the baseball field Saturday when hearing that Zoe Ramone is going to summer camp w/ Declan and said, “I hope those woods are ready for all that personality coming their way!” He’s right on the mark - knowing this kid, not only will she insist that she can stomp in the creek in her red, Dorothy shoes, but she’ll wear them well and proudly, leaving the counselors wearily waving the white flag.

Oh yeah, life is coming at us full circle right about now. After about 20 years or so, we are leaving downtown Philly and moving out west, well - 35 blocks west. Geez - right back where we both started, though Jason and I didn’t know each other back then. West Philly will certainly be a departure from where we are now, but we’re looking forward to more space but still the understanding and appreciation for urban living, even philosophically. House hunting was fun out there, “Hey kids, see that house? That’s where mom/dad lived and….(insert hushed mumbles and whispers of illegal substances, good friends, sex, lots of beer, and other crazy times and goings on)......wow, that was a long time ago!” Then we feign a little chuckle about the kids’ potential for future house parties and other-enhanced romps through our soon-to-be neighboring green park and hatch to the roof.

Ah, yes, the house parties days. Brings back memories. When my parents used to go see shows in Atlantic City or wherever, we’d throw these awesome house and pool parties. And now, well, now we’re the ones driving down to….Atlantic City….to see Devo, the B-52’s, and….oh, geez…..we’ve officially become our parents. What to do? Guess not much. Circle of life. Full freaking circle.

Tough Day

Uggh....I haven't blogged for so long and deleted many posts from last year (okay, all posts from last year). But I'm laughing today b/c my friends yesterday said that when they blogged for the first time this past week, they felt so.....dirty.

.....I'm feeling dirty.

So, we lost someone pretty close to us this past Saturday - which, when I read the mass card I realized, only because it was right there in black and white, that it's also the same date as my daughter's birthday. Damn, that's gonna be a bittersweet day from now on, as will be July 4th.

When I moved to Philly in June of 1986, I immediately fell into the Philly punk scene, as I lived directly behind the Crypt. And actually, since my uncle Dave Carroll was a big reason for this upstate NY girl to move to an affordable and kinda happening city - well, I was officially considered, as my son's former preschool teacher says, "punk rock aristocracy". I'll admit - it's had its perks (and I've always been a fan of my uncle - he rocks). Before I met some of my closest and oldest punk friends in the city, Dave got me a gig as a bouncer for the Ramones at a show at the Chestnut Cabaret. I remember trying hard to scare off people who were trying to make their way backstage. Some of these characters ended up being my future bandmates just a few months later.

In September of 1986, I "ended up" at Temple (I could have gone anywhere, but I "chose" Temple -true and another story for another time). One of the first people I met was my friend Jim Roadie - same guy I chased away the Ramones show. It wasn't hard for us spikey hair, leather-wearing kids in their late teens, very early 20's to get to know each other and hang out each day (end eventually create a "Jolt" tree - made up of branches of such soda cans). Ah, the formative years.

One of the first shows I saw back then was a Stalin's Daughter show, also at Temple - and all the usual suspects were there. Some of us already, immediate good friends. Some new introductions. I think that was the night when I first met Rick. I remember thinking that this guy was really cool - really slick (well, his hair certainly was), and I loved the jaded songs he was singing. From that time on, well, the rest is history.

I'll skip a bit ahead to the future and maybe revisit on another day, but Rick is gone and I feel like a big piece of my life goes with him. It's not that we talked every day, or saw each other every week, but we kept in touch for all 21 years. And he was always welcoming, always friendly and we could always knowingly share some great history and reminisce on good times, as well as talk about the present and future. A lot of Rick's friends have said this for days - that was always the great thing about Rick - no matter how much time went by, you could always instantly reconnect as if no time had ever passed.

When my buddy Ray died in August, I was wishing for just 5 more minutes. I am feeling the same way right now. 5 more minutes to say: thank you. I am very thankful for the time I shared with both of these gentlemen. And what true gentlemen they were - kind, caring, compassionate. Qualities which shouldn't be so freaking rare these days.

Damn. Damn Damn Damn.

I had such a headache yesterday and woke up w/ one again today. So much water under the bridge. (Or as my best friend Robert says - so much bridge under water.) I felt beat up yesterday, and it felt harder last night when the dust started settling. I keep pinching myself - did this really happen? Yesterday I thought, if we walked out of Sue's house, would it really mean that Rick died, and that we'd have to start a new day without him?

F**k. This sucks. But thankfully I am surrounded and have reconnected with many good friends with whom I never want to lose touch. And you all have my official 5 minutes: I love you, and thank you (soak that in for another 4:58). I'm thankful that most of us can embrace each other, regardless of how much time has passed. Makes it easier to get through any tough day.