Till dragons and zombies do us part?

Dear Joe,

It’s been a great marriage. We laugh. We cry. Mostly I cry. We love our kids. We love our family. You’ve given me a life of joy. Joy of music. Joy of food. And most importantly, joy of TV. That’s right TV. You and I, we’ve been inseparable in our TV watching. Remember the summer we watched every Woody Allen movie ever made? How about when we discovered House of Cards together? I even watched Jaws 3 with you. Jaws 3! Nothing could sever our TV bond. You were my partner in crime. And drama. And comedy.

But something happened. I started noticing a cooling a few years ago, but tried to ignore it. We were working our way through season 1 of Game of Thrones. You and me, together. And then…the finale. Baby dragons. And just like that, you were out. You couldn’t do it. Not even Peter Dinklage’s one liners could bring you back. So I went on without you. Through the red wedding and Joffrey’s death. I was sad to be without you, but I told myself that it’s ok, it’s healthy to have independant TV lives.

The next blow was Zombies. You won’t do zombies. I tried to plead my case. It’s more than just stabbing people in the brain. It’s a love story. A story of survival and connection. But alas you left me alone with Rick, Daryl and Glen.  I missed you but I also started noticing something. Something terrible.

I realized that since I could watch those shows without waiting for you, there was no limit to my binging! 6am binge? Why not! The world was my oyster. The Wire. Preacher. Six Feet Under. I couldn’t believe how great it was to be this free. This…TV single.

But what about us? I worried this would be the end of our happy TV life together. Oh we’ve had issues in the past. Your sheer hatred for Everybody Loves Raymond  and The Pioneer Woman almost did us in. But we got through it. We found Cops together. Actually the kids started watching Cops and then we would watch together as a family. My point is….we survived. We didn’t let that break us.

But now, I’m worried again. I mean we have CBS Sunday Morning and 60 Minutes together, and we’ll always have our memories – Breaking Bad, Sopranos, and ofcourse – season 1 and 2 of Orange is the New Black. But what about the future?

Stranger Things was off to a good start but then…a monster.And you were out again. But need I remind you that ET was fantastical? And that there is no such thing as a Death Star or a final frontier?

What I’m saying to you is…I don’t want TV us to be over. I want to work it out. Last night we started The Night Of together. Let’s defy the odds and make it all the way! You promised that we’d be together in our TV watching our whole lives. Remember? Growing old together in front of the TV, with our dinner trays?  That was the dream. And it can be again.

Narcos season 2 is on its way. And Peaky Blinders …. let’s not forget Peaky Blinders.

What I’m trying to say is – I’m not going to give up on you. On TV us.


Your binge-watching-zombie-loving-dragon-believing wife.




Me caveman

I’m at the airport getting ready to board a flight for another week-long event. My team, from varying parts of the country, are also leaving today. In the olden days, like early 2015, I would have sent an email out wishing them safe travels. But late last year we started doing something different. During an event with lots of moving parts, we created a text group with everyone on site so we could easily communicate to each other. It was a crazy train of messages and updates. Those waking up early for 5am activities would take pictures and give us their feedback in realtime. Those on the front line registering people who were missing a name badge, gift bag, etc could send one quick note and get it resolved by the time they finished talking to that person. It was everything from “Break-out sessions are ending early, tell the hotel to be ready” to “the CEO is heading out now.” Unless you’re an event planner with a type-A-need-to-know-everything personality, this can drive you crazy. It’s a lot of info all the time.

At the end of that event, like always, we were all wiped out. Mentally and physically. Staying awake just long enough to board our flights/trains home and then pass out for a week. But there was also a bit of sadness to leave the team. When those texts stoped, I missed them! Crazy right? And I don’t think I was the only one. Don’t get me wrong – we’re thrilled to leave and be home with our families and friends, but there is something about the frenzy of being together on site that is a lot of fun.

We’re a mobile team. We are all over the place. We have to be. Texting has become the connector and unifier. And honestly, I feel like it’s more effective that half the meetings I have.

I get to see what’s happening at events I can’t attend. I hear about issues/challenges immediately. I also hear about the successes – and it’s good to celebrate in the moment.

Something else has happened since then. We started texting as a team outside of the big events too. Holidays. Kid and fur kid photos. Big moments and not so big moments outside of work (like making your first avocado toast at home or a daughter graduating).

As a manager, my hardest job is to make us all feel like we are in it together. That we’ve got each other’s backs and we are all rooting for each other’s success, not failure. Managing via text isn’t all I do – we still have the good old 1:1s, reviews and team meetings. But I do think that in between those corporate connection points, these little touch points matter.

I hope my team would agree. Maybe this is all in my head and it’s just another management torture device – but I hope not. And I know that this wouldn’t work for every job or every group. We aren’t 9 to 5. Our workday sometimes (ok always) goes into the weekend, or a holiday. None of the folks on my team have been with their kids or their own mothers on Mother’s Day in the past 3 years. That’s not me complaining – that’s just facts. It’s our job.

I read an article the other day that talked about emoji’s being the death of modern writing. It said we are basically falling back to hieroglyphics. Moving away from the words of Shakespeare and other great writers to the basic, caveman expressions of joy/love/sadness etc. Maybe. And maybe some things are ok in shorthand. Maybe even better.

I love long letters. I love good books. And there’s nothing I like more than having a talk with someone face to face. But I don’t like long work emails. I don’t like long meetings, and I don’t get to see some people face to face for weeks – months sometimes. A quick text. An emoji. A meme. It may seem casual, but it works for us. It’s efficient. 

In fact this whole blog could have reduced to 🙏🏼👍🏼✈️👌🏼


See what I mean?

Here’s some of my team through bitmoji and a day in the life via text….


Hello old friend

Because it’s been a really tough few weeks in the world and I think you needed laugh.

Because this is what I looked like the summer before I went to college and I’m feeling nostalgic with my oldest going away in the fall.

Because even though that outfit seems pretty simple, I spent HOURS thinking about it.

Because those earrings were as heavy as they looked.

Because those shoulder pads didn’t even come with that shirt – I added them!

Because I was rocking a matte lipstick way before the Kardashians (thanks to Wet n Wild).

Because that hairstyle needed those sunglasses.

And mainly because I probably still own and wear some version of this outfit.

That’s why I’m sharing this picture that my sister found of me….hold on to your 80’s cause here I am!



Blog dump

I got called out. Last night we were all sitting around talking about things (end of high school, end of school year, politics, The whip and nae nae, etc), and my daughter quietly turned to me and said, “Mom, why can’t I see any of your blog posts pop up on my Facebook anymore?”…. Why? Oh. That’s easy. Because I don’t write them. LOL. Ahem. Got a problem with that? Then they all started.

“Why don’t you write?”

“Are you done with the blog?”

“Do you need ideas?”

No. No thank you. Ideas I have. Infact, that may be the problem. I have too much stuff to write about. I can’t organize it all. It doesn’t all go together. It’s a mishmash of opinions/thoughts/experiences. It’s good stuff, it’s bad stuff, it’s all over the place. It’s a schizophrenic mix of events during the past few weeks that I’m afraid I can’t prioritize.  Look, even me describing it is a hot mess. But I’ll try. I’m warning you all now. There’s stuff in here that is really really great, and stuff that’s really really meh. But I have no time or patience to separate those things…so here you go.

I hated Disney. There. I said it. It’s been weighing heavily on my mind. We had a really good event there. It wasn’t crowded. The weather was amazing. My family loved it. The service levels at the resort are bananas good, the people are super friendly- but guess what – not my thing. I even met and hugged Mickey himself and felt…nothing. I guess I’m dead inside.

I did not hate my 20th wedding anniversary. 20 years. Same dude. #goodlife

I turned 44. Here’s where I stand. I have a shitload of white hair. My lady bits are having some issues (you’re welcome for the overshare), looks like I have to be a normal human and see a doctor more often.  I’m grateful for the very deep relationship with my manicure/pedicure gals. Nothing feels warmer than me walking in and all of them smiling and saying, “hello Neha! Mani/pedi/wax?” Yes. Yes. And really yes. I’m also happy to have friends who are still around even though I talk to them less than I write this blog. I’m thankful for all the usual stuff too (kids, family, job, yada yada).

I’m obsessed with Seinfeld, again. This may be bad news for my obsession with Everybody Loves Raymond, I’ll let you know.

God grant me the serenity to accept my family and friends who love Trump. In my mind I imagine even Oprah has friends and family like that – and what would she do? Would she look down on them? No way. She would openly embrace them and love them. For they know not what they do. I’m gonna be like Oprah. Forever.

I am sick of talking about how busy I am. I’m done. I can’t hear myself anymore. If I were listening to me I’d tell me to shut-up. Enough. What am I? The Queen of Sheba? No. Not. I’m riduclous. I will find something else to talk about. Starting tomorrow….I’ve got a lot to do today.

We went to a wonderful, beautiful wedding. I love weddings. I love all of it. I find nothing cheesy or boring about weddings. This is the great mystery of my life. I love weddings but I also loved eloping. Go figure. Maybe I like OTHER people’s weddings. Anyway – it was beautiful and fun and touching. Mazel tov to Keith and Danielle (and Cora the cutie!).

Guess what? The day after that wedding I went to another wedding…err.. wedding celebration. Two lovebirds who found each other later in life but make every day and every moment count. The love story of Marcello and Lorraine gives me serious feels, as my son would say. They are joyful and generous. As I get older I no longer find humor in marriage sarcasm. I love couples who love. Openly and happily. During one of our book club meetings a few months ago (Babes with Books lives!), a new member described her dating life with her then boyfriend by saying,”we spent the next two years falling in love before he proposed.” Come on! That’s some beautiful stuff right there. I told you I’m getting old and soft. One more thing to share about this day…during the time that Marcello and Lorraine were falling in love in Italy, he took a photo that captured a special moment in their courtship. That day, that beautiful photo memory ended up on their wedding cake as a surprise to the couple. Tears flowed from both the bride and the groom. No hiding that kind of emotion and love.

Work is going well. My team and I have lots of fun together. Atleast I think we do. Am I one of those people that think their team likes to hang out with them when deep inside they are all miserable and unhappy and would much rather be anywhere but with me? I dunno. I’m going to start a group chat with them and find out.

My daughter went to senior prom. My son got his blackbelt. It was the best weekend ever.

I’m wearing color, and I don’t mean grey. Or is it gray. I don’t know how long it’ll last and I still like wearing all black – but I get a lot less slack this way. People like it when you mask your inner darkness with chunky yellow jewelry. If I were an evil super villian I’d get away with it all just by wearing a light, flowery shirt. Just an fyi.

Beyoncé. Lemonade. Everyday. When you’re talking to me, just know that’s what’s going on in my head.

Have you had enough? I’ll try to be better..I still have more to tell you…it’s just that I’m so busy🙂

Who’s Mothering Who?

Had I known that you both would be so funny and smart and fun – I would have had an army of you.

Then there would be a whole gang of people who hated cooked carrots, had inside jokes and made world promises that couldn’t be broken. The only thing on TV would be Cops, Inked and Catfish, and Cinnamon Toast Crunch would be a food group.

Ofcourse there would be music constantly, everywhere. I would only hear what you wanted them to hear, like cool indie hits and the occasional rap song with a bad word. But with each other you’d talk about songs and artists that only you knew. I would overhear and ask who you were talking about, and you’d smile and tell me the name and move on with your conversation. No need for me to know more. You’d given me just what I could handle. 

When you weren’t laughing together you’d be fighting. All that Scorpio sting and passion would erupt every few days – and quickly smooth over. And the stubbornness. Omg the stubbornness.

In the end, the world would be full of politeness and kindness. And full of more humans that were beautiful inside and out.

But I didn’t know. I had no clue. I thought I was bringing you into this world. I thought I gave you life. I thought I would be the one teaching you. I had it all backwards. 

Thanks for letting me keep trying to mother.  

Times they are a changin’

Last week we decided to make what seemed like a few small changes. We have a playset in the back yard that hadn’t been used in years. With a 17 year old about to graduate and a 12 year old boy obsessed with his trampoline, we thought it was a safe bet to get rid of it.

But as it was being taken down, piece by piece, I had a sinking feeling. I don’t remember being that emotional when we moved them from the crib to the bed – maybe because the rest of their room was still covered with toys and they were still a version of land locked with us at home.

The other change was a much needed refresh of my daughter’s room. New paint, new dresser, new bed. It was time to say goodbye to Ikea furniture that lasted her for more than a decade (held together by glue and prayer). But even when we were cleaning out the room it still felt like she would be in it. She picked the colors, the furniture, etc. It didn’t feel like an end, just the next step.

When the kids went from carseat to booster to nothing, we celebrated. When the training wheels came off, we celebrated. Even when my son left his elementary school last year, we celebrated. Our babies were amazing but we have a lot of fun with our kids. We live in a neighborhood that let our kids bike around, walk around and now drive around. We always felt so happy when they made another, brave step. Maybe because at the end of those steps they came back home. It didn’t feel like an end.

The playset being taken away felt like an end.

I know it’s normal and parents all through time have done this. I know there are bigger moments to come, graduation, weddings, etc. But this feels like a big movement. A home that doesn’t have little feet that’ll climb the slide. A home where I don’t stand at the kitchen sink and watch them play. Truth be told they haven’t touched it in years, and it’s a great big eyesore, which is why it was so easy to decide to get rid of it. Still it stung.

Here’s a look down memory lane and then the memory being demolished and taken away. Just kidding. Not really.



Snow dayzzzzzzz

I think this picture was taken in 2000. We were living in NYC on the upper east side. Kera was 2. Going for walks with her daddy was one of her favorite things, even in a blizzard. Even in dirty city snow.

That white snow suit was a gift from her godmother Colleen, my sister-in-law. Colleen bought Kera every winter coat until she became a teen – and stopped wearing winter coats.

The picture with the pink hat below became our Christmas card that year.

This was Kera’s first major sledding adventure. Look at that face! Look at that hat! Remember when you could put your kids in anything and they’d wear it? I don’t.

  I think this is that same year. We had moved out of the city to upstate NY.

  Then Jack came on the scene…ready to party.

 Just look at Kera’s toothy smile! I like taking this trip down winter coat memory lane….


We still meet with family every year right before Christmas – back then we met in Lancaster, PA. Thanks to Aunt Dee Dee we’d see a show, stay in a hotel and kick off the holidays. The picture below is from one of the last times we were there. We drove down and a blizzard hit. The show was cancelled but we found an open restaurant and made the best of it. I’m not sure why Jack isn’t wearing gloves. I seem to have him wrapped up like a babushka except for his little, cold hands. I was too busy taking pictures.

Snow makes them happy. And anything that makes them happy is fine by me.





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