My Grandmother lived untill she was 93

I lived with my grandmother until the day she died. She served as a second mother and comedic relief!
She was my pain in the ass that I loved to be around.  Every morning she would greet me with food and a hello.  And every evening she would bid adieu by asking me to fix something in her apartment. She was and always will be my "Arthur" from King of Queens. 

Three years have passed but I still feel her presence in the house that she lived and died in. Her clothes and sheets, her soap and shampoo, her pictures, are all still present in my home.  As she is.  In Daniel, my old soul, she lives.

Vittoria V. Petrillo Sunrise 1/14/15 Sunset 5/30/08 "God saw you were tired... With tearful eyes we watched you, and saw you pass away... God broke our hearts to prove to us, He only takes the best." Grandma, These were some of the words from your mass card and we chose these because we believe that's exactly what happened. We all remember that sudden horrible day, the look in your eyes and the last words that you whispered as you passed away how you wanted to. We also remember every other day we shared with you. For me, it was my entire life living with you. Every morning, I was greeted with a snack and a wave goodbye from your window. For many of us, it was your lemonade on a hot day or a hot chocolate on a cold evening. For some of us, it was the long phone calls or shopping adventures with you. For all of us, it is your truthfulness, stamina, and your beauty that carries us on. And unfortunately, for our little ones who didn't get enough time with you, we will make sure that your legacy is carried on. We miss you, We love you and We hurt without you. Until we meet again. Love Always, Heather, Margaret, Michele, Allison, Megan, Daniel, Vicky, Joe and Ronnie Although we loved you dearly, we could not make you stay, Your Children, Grandchildren, Great-grandchildren and entire extended family

Struggle with Perfection

Tattoos.
I have 5 in total as of today.
You ask what does that have to do with my struggle for perfection?  We'll get there.  I'm a little rigid, so there has to be a sequence apparently.  Hear my sarcasm?

I got my first, a shooting star on my right wrist, after my 30th birthday when I realized that I wanted to be a star.  Well, some might say that I've always wanted to be a star. And I probably would concur. But I'll get back to that.

My second, rosary beads on my left forearm, after my grandmother passed away.  I'm not a very religious person but she was like a God to me. She lived with me until the day she died and still does. I'll get back to that too.

My third is a photocopy of my son's hands when he was almost 2 with the alpha omega symbols separated by a star and followed by my son's name on my right forearm. That was a mouthful; You'll always hear about my shining star!

My fourth, and brand new tattoo, drum roll please....the Aquarius Pisces cusp sign, my first colorful tattoo, placed on my  right foot.  It was first for me but probably not the last and didn't hurt a bit! I decided on this water sign, not because I love water, because even though I love the beach, I really don't love water, but because my birthday falls on the cusp of the both signs and they truly do represent many of my traits.  I'll talk more about that shortly.

And my fifth, and also very new tattoo, is a quote on my left wrist "forget regrets or life is yours to miss." instead of me talking about this quote, why don't you ponder about it and leave me some comments my friends.

I did say that I would talk a little more about my reasoning behind the actual tattoos but I thought it was even more important to discuss  how somebody decides to mark their body permanently by inserting ink into their skin's dermis layer? Truthfully, I am not sure at what point I said I really want a tattoo and not sure when I thought it was okay to do this to my body because I really have some self image issues.  So why would I choose to highlight my hairy, Italian arms by decorating them with tattoos?  Why did I choose to use tattoos to identify myself?  For placement, I chose my forearms so that I could cover them up during work events.  Professional by day, me by night.  But that still doesn't answer why I decided to mark my body.  I am a perfectionist. Shocker.  Even though I never attain it, I strive for it; and I actually struggle with it.

Again, why did I mark my body permanently and continue to do so?  Well, it sure is addicting.  The pain is just right and the product is beautiful.  More so, I believe I do it because I have control over it.  By choosing which areas, how big or small, I am taking control of my self environment. I am taking control of my body and facing my self image issues.  By creating a palate, I am managing my feelings about what I think about me and what I think others think about me.
Got it?
Self image is the mental picture that depicts things that have been learned about myself, either from personal experiences or by internalizing the judgments of others. A simple definition of a person's self image is the answer to the question "what do I believe people think about me?"
I can go through a million thoughths as to what I think people think about me and what I think about me.  But to sum it up without going through that is what people always respond when they catch a glimpse of my tattoos is "I would never picture you getting tattoos, very nice."  Why so surprised?  Beacuse I look like a teacher, librarian, have a child, seem to have a wall up, not wild enough, former AP student?  What could it be? And therein lies my problem: Thinking about what people think about me. And probably thinking the wrong things; Struggling to be a perfect balance of sexy yet nerdy. 

As I write this blog entry, my son just said "mom, your tattoo on your foot is so nice." As long as I am perfect in his eyes, I am happy....
for now.
To be continued.

Success

What's your definition of a success?  I think that's a loaded question and only a novel can answer that thought for me. But let me tell you about the efficacious week I just had.  Really, in global terms, I don't think it really was a success  but maybe I'll think differently once I see everything in black and white.
Right now I am thinking that the only positive part is that I am still alive and kicking since it had been one crazy week. 

Communion times 2 were different and beautiful.  God Bless those kids touched by God.
Mother's Day was a success with brunch on Staten Island and a trip to Pt. Pleasant Beach. Love the beach!
The work week, however productive and memorable, was a feat.  Or was I defeated? 

• A phone conference that lasted 2 hours too long.  Really people, is this good human resource management?
• Late work meeting where buzz words like lever and leverage, used in relation to the pedagogical human capital in my workforce, are being used in every sentence with the hope of having it ingrained in our daily practices.  Really, haven't we all been levers in the organization? Isn't that why you keep us around?
• A evening school visit acknowledging how important the arts are in schools.  And being entertained by dancing children. An alarmingly good and funny experience; No question there.
• A Friday visit to Harlem. And no lunch visit on 125th?

  So, I said I might have a different point of view by now and I do.  For this week, my definition of success was the fact that I was able get up every day and maintain my job responsibilities in a professional manner. 
You agree?