I can't sleep. I keep replaying where I was a year ago. It was a very difficult and long night. In those 24 hours....my siblings and mom had to confront some difficult realities that I still ponder. So many things occurred and so many things were discussed. I really never felt alone. I know dad had enough. Enough of many things. We didn't speak much in those last few days. We made faces at everything so I know he was still that strong minded opinionated guy.  I talked and wrote on a grease board. He nodded, mouthed words and made faces. Seemed normal but it was actually a heated discussion at times. He always worried about us. I was so upset and angry with how the doctor had spoke to him one day. Like he was feeble and unaware. ...I went home after my mom got there. I cried the whole ride home. I was in my driveway and he made mom call me to make sure I was ok. He smiled and tried to talk. He said....I know...its ok....I'm ok....he was worried about me. about me. I miss him everyday but right now I just need to make it through today. I know dad.....I know its ok and I know your ok........

As I sit here in self quarantine and partake in social distancing, I can't help but wonder about how my Dad would react in this situation. I often think it might be the "skeptical until it hits you" situation with him. Luckily, he always put health first and looked for any good reason to not be in work. I miss him so much. I swear to you that I feel as though there are times when he answers my thoughts, has a full conversation with me, or even contributes to the conversations I'm having with other people. Sometimes Mike will hear me answer him out loud and he'll replied "What? Who are you talking to?" and then I'll be startled out my trance. A few weeks ago, Mike heard me say " No, I'm not getting a small TV and putting it in my kitchen." I also know that grief doesn't affect only me in my household. My husband misses talking about the MTA and joking about it with him. There's definitely one thing that we both fall melancholy to and that is how we both wish he met Sienna. I have to believe that somehow, some way, he has a connection and relationship with her. She may look like a Goldman, but she is disgruntled, annoyed, side smiling, naturally funny, stubborn, eyebrow raising, animated face making, and absolutely loves music ... just like him.

I hope all is well on the home front for all of you. I've been praying for Alane to recover and rehabilitate nicely. Anyone I ever known who has had shoulder surgery has told me that it's not only painful, but its a long process, and a waiting game. I hope the boys are doing well. If any are partaking in college Spring Break festivities, I hope they are washing their hands frequently and keeping a good distance.

I love you all. Please stay healthy.

Hello all......Yesterday we drove down to palm beach for a visit. The 3 hour drive is through some back woods places. We passed a guy working on his driveway with a shovel while an older man supervised from his power chair with a distinct scowl on his face.  I laughed out loud than cried a little. It was a scene I had starred in so many times. As my dad supervised the situation and I worked on something out on the Jupiter Farms house. Had to be correctly done. Had to be straight. We talked at length during those times. He told me what to avoid and who to avoid. He told me when to cut your losses and when to stick it out. We laughed at our neighbor Billy and always found a laugh in the myriad of misfits that drove by. I miss that house sometimes. It was the epicenter of so much for a long time. I miss my dad everyday but he brings me a chuckle most days. Not sure if I laugh at how he would have reacted or if I'm getting like him a little each day. I seem to have acquired his knack for being a magnet to the strangest people and conversations. I find myself answering him in in my head.... Yeah. I see what you mean. I instinctively said " Get Outta Here" and then laughed. I miss him everyday.  I very often laugh and then cry. 

Great to be back!

Good Evening, Macaroni Dish!

It is so great to be back on this blog. I feel overjoyed knowing that we are starting this up again. Way back when the blog started, it was the mid 2000's, and I was in high school. I was spending most of my time doing stage shows, hitching rides to and from school, and trying to be the best student I can possibly be. Now, I'm in my thirties. I'm relishing in my happily married life and 25 weeks pregnant with our first baby. I spend most of my days working full time, trying not to get out of breath doing simple tasks, keeping up with our New Jersey home, and setting up our daughter's nursery.

It's been an interesting journey since my last post. Some say that's the most interesting part - "the journey". Some days I agree with that and other days I feel it's too cliche and it makes the future seem bleak.  Either way, in this relaxing moment of homeostasis (just kidding, there's no homeostasis in pregnancy), I can smile and say:
"I'm happy. Really happy."

Cat Turd Field Goals

I was considering why I find the Blog more fun and amusing than the popular social media platforms...and I've determined it's the exclusivity. Anyone can read it...but only the chosen can share their stories.

Speaking of which, a few weeks ago we made a spectacular discovery here at Stromboli House. It's long been known that our dog Bentley loves the taste of cat turds, and views Bruno's cat box as little more than his personal candy store. So for years, we have kept a baby gate a few inches in front of it, because both dogs are terrified of it. The cat ignores it and jumps right over it. Its like having an electrified fence...but only for the dogs. So for years, its been the perfect plan...until recently. Bentley was hovering around Bruno's room , so as we investigated why, we witnessed a medium size turd get kicked over the gate and land right at his feet. It was like a perfect field goal kick. He happily devoured it. Apparently there exists an interspecies gentlemen's agreement at my house, so that my cocker spaniel can enjoy the occasional piece of cat shit that I have been denying him.

Humans...we are just not as smart as we think....Dr. Sfingi remember this as you embark on your new adventure in house pets.

Mira the Dog

This woolly-head freak is Mira. She is a Labradoofus. Here she is peeking out the back window, probably tracking a squirrel or a bird. Or maybe a pizza. Did she order herself a pizza? What toppings would she request? Mind you, this is an animal that eats random poop off the back lawn: from rabbits, from deer, from whatever other creatures scurry across my backyard.

Mira the dog has been with us since October. Notice the muppet-like absurdity of her coat. It's ridiculous. But somehow she does not seem to shed. Or make us sneeze. So she can stay.

Anyway, tomorrow is April. Spring is almost here. So of course we woke up this morning to a few inches of wet snow. Sheesh. But as the day progressed and icy morning faded into icy afternoon, I got a phone call from Steverino. He alerted me to the fact that this blog is now being read by people who weren't even born when the blog started. Maybe they previously suspected this family was crazy; now they've got documentation. Practically a signed confession.

Steve said: "Let's start using the blog again."

I said: "That idea appeals to me -- in much the same way random lawn poop appears to Mira the dog.  Let's eat!"

Uncouth? We Got It

What, deep-fried reuben-on-a-stick sounds low-rent to you? How about walking through the living room and casually belching the word "Barcalounger"?

I'm not even gonna say who committed that crime against civilization. Except to say it wasn't me.

Happy 2017. We're starting strong.

Deep Fried Idiocy

A short word about the following life changing images. The story is that a few years ago my dad wanted to eat a reuben sandwich but was unable to due to his gluten intolerance. What followed this tragic discovery was the realization that we could skip the bread and just use deep frying as a way to still deliver the ingredients in a sandwich like manner. We tried numerous different things, most famously was the attempt to put the ingredients into a sausage making machine then deep fry that into a reuben corndog. That catastrophic failure turned into a tradition of deep frying whatever nearby foods we had around New Years. So from this years attempts here are some of our creations, they truly speak for themselves.

-The set up we used.

-The extraction from the oil.

-One of the completed deep fried monstrosities.

-Ooey gooey rich and chewy inside, golden flakey tender cakey outside...

This Is Steve's Brain on Ice; Any Questions?

As the latest Russian vaudeville video clip makes the rounds, I just want to point out that Steve was about 14 years ahead of the trends.

It was after the big party, Cookie's baptism (yes, the very same Cookie who started high school this week). We had eaten all the steaks, drunk all the wine, smeared all the cake... and still, we had this cooler that sloshed full with icy water. (And we mean icy -- Steve said he could hardly stick his hand into it to fish out a cold beverage.)

So naturally we decided to plunge our heads into it. One by one.

It made sense at the time.

Wow. Its been a long time.....so lets dive right into this. Quite a bit has changed since my last blog. First, a new zip code for Jen and I. Georgia called and said no one was cooking the sauce on Sunday for eight hours, so we decided it was our duty to immediatally relocate and help spread the gospel of the macaroni. Moving to another state was not quite expensive enough, so we decided it was  a perfect time to adopt a new puppy. Our new addition is named Maddie, and alas she is an English Bulldog. If you refer back to July of 2006, I believe I suggested that the Mastandreas may have evolved from the bulldog....noting the many shared attributes: oversize head, short neck, barrel chest, underbite and amazing appetite. Anyway, Maddie is the first member of a brand new breed...the Barese Bulldog. I've been pressuring Petco to offer a puppy chow made with sausage and broccoli rabe, no luck so far.

I spoke with Dr. Sfingi today and shared with him a conversation I recently had with Jenia and BazzukaJoe. We were discussing the World Cup final score and its impact on my musical choices (I was vacillating between Rammstein and "Dont Cry For Me Argentina") which prompted BazzukaJoe to tell us his reservations about a coworker who revealed to him his underwears sometimes smell like Fritos. You read that correctly..the mans underwear occasionally smells like Fritos. I used to like corn chips. Now I keep imagining reaching into a bag and pulling out a pair of sweaty tightie whities. BazzukaJoe was unfazed by it, simply stating the man's judgement may now be questionable. Anyway, Im starting to doze, so I'm going cut this short tonight, but I will be back tomorrow.

A Time Piece of a Timepiece

Not sure what made me decide to do this, but late this morning I brought my nearly-30-year-old cheap-ass wristwatch back to life -- loaded a new battery, set the time and date, and... turned back the clock.

Yep, I remember getting that watch, down on Broadway, trolling the shops in my then-current state of perpetual broke-ness, looking for a bargain. And there it was: black denim overalls. Just $15. And all purchases that day came with a free wristwatch.

My recollection is a little foggy (heh) but I'm pretty sure that was late summer 1985. I had just quit job number seven of the summer (but was keeping one of the ice cream vendor gigs -- would later sell gelato at a Squeeze concert on the pier, then roasted corn at San Gennaro). School was about to start, and with it would be other jobs: I'd later get a job at the campus publishing office, then late in the year make $200 doing a drug study.

Yeah, it was madness but that's why I always looked for a deal and this was a deal. I got lots of miles out of those overalls; in those days of lax-laundry and commando tactics I think it's fair to say that was one horribly abused piece of clothing -- but it always came back for more.

And the watch -- what a cheap piece of crap. I loved it. Wore it for years. I think at one point the electronic innards got roasted, so I transplanted a working LCD timepiece into it. Super-glued the case. Replaced the strap. The watch was a champ -- it outlived Canal Jean itself (not sure when that store closed -- I think it moved to Brooklyn for a few years before going fully defunct).

Anyway, it's all ancient history. Wristwatches, that is.

All The Who's Down In Whoville

Took down the last of the Christmas lights today -- always a somber duty. But at least we got to do it over the course of an unexpectedly long weekend, given the snows of Thursday night into Friday. So I got to sit back and slurp the last of the eggnog, sip what was left at the bottom of that Frangelico bottle, and eat the final holiday chocolates. Back in the old Brooklyn days, there would still be that box of strouffoli on the counter -- that sticky pyramid, half-eaten, half-wanted, but finally eaten away as the cookie plate ran empty and the moth of January got fully into gear.

Anyway, we took down the tree and living room decorations yesterday. Now the place is boring again. And the weather is getting cold -- we'll be spending some time in the single digits in the next few days. Blowjhinksi.

You know what I need? A nice refreshing cucumber soda.

Ringing Out 2013

Is this healthy? Almost certainly not. But somehow it has become a holiday week tradition here at the Mastandrea North: the New Year Deep Fry.

I much prefer doing this outdoors but for some reason I couldn't get any of my outdoor burners to blast hot enough to defeat the low-20s temps. So after hustling in and out the backdoor over the course of about a half an hour, Cookie and I trundled all the food and gear back into kitchen to do the actual cooking.

I gotta inspect my equipment.

This morning we have another layer of snow outside. Tis the season, I suppose. But it has been a good week off. All that household repair I've been meaning to do? The door-jambs upstairs needing paint? The carpet needing removal? Yeah, I never got near any of it.

Instead, we've been watching lots of bad cinema -- scraping the bottom of the Netflix barrel in anticipation of dropping the now-exhausted service.

Zonbiasu, anyone?

Living, Loving, and Working in a Scaffold Infested Opportunist's Safe Haven

Greetings, my fellow family of bloggers and a Happy Halloween!
Miss you dearly and wish for you all many blessings.

Today I wanted to talk about the last six months of my life. 

At this moment, I consider myself a 26 year old newlywed who is an optimistic non-conformist with creative goals, tasks, and continuous life challenges. Please don't take this as a preaching, teaching, or philosophical tool, but just merely a recollection of my own meandering experiences. One thing is for sure: living, loving, and working in New York had taught me a wealth of lessons that I will take with me on this journey of life. 

Lessons in LIVING

1. New York is a jungle. This is the true in every sense of the word. Whatever or whomever comes to your mind then associating the word "jungle" in your brain is exactly what I mean ... and then some. 

2. It really does take a village to raise a child. Or in my case, a 26 year old. 

3. If you think you need extra time to do something, you probably do. 

4. Travel by yourself sometimes to help give your natural senses an awakening. 

5. Enjoy the culture of this compact world so that it can inspire you. 

6. Never compromise who you are for anyone or anything. 

7. When in doubt, keep your mouth shut. 

8. Live within your means. 

9. Your health and well being should be something you strive to constantly keep solid. 

Lessons in LOVING 

1. Self love comes first. As selfish as that sounds. It's true. 

2. Make self love first on your list. If it becomes second, make the switch as quick as possible. 

3. You are strong. Stronger than you will ever know. But make sure you understand that strength is mysterious, and that it can be misunderstood. 

4. Nip big things in the bud. Let the small stuff go. 

5. It gets better. 

6. Call family, friends, and loved ones as often as possible just to say "Hi!" 

7. Tell your spouse how much you appreciate them. Sometimes appreciation is all that is needed to get through the day. 

8. Keep on building and cultivating. It makes love so much more meaningful. 

Lessons in WORKING

1. Only you know your true potential, creative ideas, work ethic, and worth. Work doesn't. They never do. Nor will they ever. 

2. Small goals count. 

3. We are supposed to be challenged. If this was easy, then this job would be boring, unsatisfying and create zero opportunities to be resourceful. 

4. In college, I took a few management courses and what I distinctly remember being said is that managers' 4 main focuses in their job description are: to lead, control, plan, and organize. Be careful and very aware when that is not happening. 

5. Never forget that things you've been trained to do ... even if its from way back when. And if you need some memory refresher, there's always a YouTube tutorial for it.

6. Don't let your co-workers define you with a nickname or a small piece of who you they think you are. They should know you by your name, work position, your projects, and vague aspects of your work life, that's about it. 

7. If you find yourself miserable or dreading work everyday, this job is not for you. Admit it. 

So that concludes my blog about me. Is there any lessons that you've learned up to this point in your life? Thank you for taking the time to read this. 

Ravioli and Meatballs, 

Kitty Von Schitz 

That's "Mister" Dumbass to You

Yes, Mojo is familiar with a root beer commercial that aired on television years before he was born. Don't ask...

It's certainly not rare that a Mastandrea sits in a room full of people and is the only one who notices something funny.

Dumas

Recently in our social studies class we watched a video. In the video we saw Greece and there was a dr , Dr. Dumas to be exact. Immediately when I saw this I thought of the root beer commercial. I t was terrible because everyone is there bored and I am laughing.

1 Week Left

I only have one week of school left. This is very exciting. I cannot wait for it to be over. Then I can do whatever I want during the summer. I can't wait for it to be over.

Answer Key

Oh, and about that Mother's Day video... You'd have to read through the vast archives of the Macaroni Dish to understand many of the references. Here are some links to make your research more efficient:

Jumping the Curb.
This comes from one of our favorite road adventures, oft retold, when Alane lapsed into some sort of  Dukes of Hazzard fugue will driving us into a parking lot for baseball practice. I believe we went airborne. Keep it on the road lady!

I'm a Fun Guy.
Alane's favorite joke. A mushroom walks into a bar and the bartender says, "We don't serve your kind here." The mushroom replies, " Why, ain't I a fun guy?" Also oft retold. Too oft, perhaps.

I should have been a pair of ragged claws...
... scuttling across the floors of silent seas. A snip from a T.S. Elliot poem. I'm not sure myself why Cookie can recite it. The important part is Alane can too. "Let us go then, you and I..."

It's All Red Lights In this Town.
Something I started muttering to myself once I realized that the International Traffic Gestapo had synchronized all the world's traffic signals to turn red upon my approach

Draw bridge? I can't draw!
This is one of those mental tics. Not unlike what happens upon seeing a Fish Eye wine label. Reflexes. Brain damage. Piss water.

Dinosaur, dinosaur, stop tromping all around...
...the silver moon is rising, it's time to settle down. A snip from Dinosaur's Binkit, a book Alane read to the boys repeatedly when they were babies. "Time to brush your dino-teeth, and put your PJs on!" It is etched in the boys' subconscious. And ours.

Burying James Madison

So the IRS has gone full-Nixon, targeting certain individuals who sought to "peaceably assemble" (as some dead white males once called it). To paraphrase the real-world of movies: never go full-Nixon.

Hell, even Nixon never went full-Nixon: he famously talked about sending the IRS out on a political witch hunt but he never actually did it!

Particularly angering is watching the people who run these government agencies pretend it's someone else's fault. At the very top of today's power structure are people who have shamelessly waged class war, culture war, and endless political campaign. The letter and spirit of their program is that we are absolutely not equal before the law:

• In the GM bankruptcy contracts were abrogated, subsidies allocated according to political criteria.
• As health care markets were further rigged, waivers were granted for favored interests.
• With private enterprise strangled in red tape politically connected firms got regulatory relief while others got enforcement actions.
• In the effort to perpetuate racial division (and the lucrative industries that arise from it) the DOJ dropped cases that were on the verge of yielding justice -- specifically to frustrate that unwanted result
• And who ever heard of a guy named VanderSloot anyway?

The detail of each injustice has been ignored but the tone has been unmistakably set. Thus the IRS abuse is no real surprise. Those who speak for government and media have explained in many ways that liberties are to be rationed, with party-members-in-good-standing going to the head of the line. People got elected on that. It is their program. They are directly responsible for every manifestation of that project. They'll say otherwise, even as they urge on further lawlessness.

That's what got me so depressed about last fall's election: the breakdown of law had been "ratified." I think the Founders would be depressed too. If you could dig up James Madison and show him today's IRS scandal he would almost certainly say:

"You asshats let the federal government usurp all those powers and didn't expect massive corruption? We did all that work modeling a true separation of powers and you morons let it unravel! Put me back in the ground."

Don't worry, President Madison, you will stay in the ground. Apparatchiks from every corner of the permanent bureaucracy will do whatever it takes to keep you buried.

We Now Consider Mother's Day

Not all people would consider this a "tribute" but around here it's as good as it gets.