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Notes To Heaven started almost two years ago as a concept that I wasn’t sure would work, but I knew I wanted to have access to for my own needs and self-expression. I wrote My First Note in January of 2012 and set-up an area for others to Leave Your Own Notes and thought others would follow suit… It didn’t happen that way.
Ultimately, my writing took another direction, my thoughts, parenting/family and relationships. And as I worked to shove square-peg content into a round hole concept, it finally became clear I had to separate the two and took the opportunity to try something different–that concept has had it’s own evolution, but that’s another story for another blog.
When I began this blog earlier this year I was in a different place… And I’m so glad that I was able to start somewhere. Even from its initial concept, Notes To Heaven morphed into a slightly different animal and became more of a personal (albeit public) diary.
Fast forward to this summer, and I decided to make two of my favorite obsessions–gift-giving and storytelling–and pair them up together. Here’s the general idea: everyone wants to give and get thoughtful, fabulous, amazing gifts, right? The getting is the easy part… it’s the giving that can stump even the best of us. And how INCREDIBLE does it feel when you know without a doubt that you’ve selected the perfect gift for someone, you just know they are going to L-O-V-E it. Continue reading →
Ok, yes, I’ve decided to add to the noise. The noise about the now infamous nipple on TIME magazine’s cover which I swore I would not write a post on, but then decided I had to when I saw Jason Biggs parody on twitter. Here’s why…
My son got hit last week and it may have been the best thing to ever happen to him. Let me explain…
My nine-year-old son has played for four years and today is a good player. When he was younger he was one of the better players (t-ball, coaches pitching) and he IS a pitcher in a division of kids who are largely older than him. He also has a vision issue which has him wearing sports goggles (and which we discovered only two years ago-see picture above). What has held him back this last season is fear. He is afraid of the ball not when he pitches or is playing defense but when he’s hitting. I can relate. Fear holds me back too. It’s the single greatest obstacle I put in my own way. Maybe you can relate. He can get on base, but he’s a walker. And it frustrates him because he knows its not due to him not having the ability. He knows he’s afraid too.
I know it sounds odd, I don’t even know the man but it feels like a personal loss. I’m speaking of course of the death of Maurice Sendak.
My connection began many, many years ago. I’m going to guess the year was 1979. My mother introduced me to The Nutshell Gang and Really Rosie and if you do not know what I am talking about I highly suggest to get thee to Amazon and purchase these books (these too) and albums at once. I was a dramatic, ok…theatrical kid basically from the time I was in utero and would make up the story lines of my life all the time. So did Rosie.
When I was a kid, I dreamed of being on Broadway. This was back when a musical theater dream wasn’t cool. Back before Glee or Smash or American Idol or X-Factor or any of those talent-elevating shows that allowed theater and performance geeks to step out of their shells and assume their rightful place among other kids with special talents and interests and find each other.
The warmer weather is trying to get and keep the attention of Mother Nature and, in similar fashion, Little League season has started where junior players seek to get and maintain the approval of their coaches, team mates and parents on fields everywhere. Any seasoned parent on the sidelines knows this time of year also marks the beginning of the end of your weekend freedom. Now some parents embrace this–either because they love baseball, or they coach, or they have a compulsive need to win…whatever floats your boat, I say. Other parents (like me) simply smile and accept this because they love their children and would give up anything for their happiness even if it means shivering through a 5pm April game or sweating their butt off during a 2pm August playoff (some kids can play through a summer league).