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.