March 28, 1968

Uno and Due Spatafora tied the knot on this day, exactly forty years ago. Him, the charming widower with the four kids, Her, the nutty career woman from an enormous family in MA. Little has changed, with the exception of what they brought home from Vegas (Me). I'm sure there have been times that it would have been simpler to bring home a t-shirt or an ashtray, but I'm still here (does best Elaine Stritch). It's a pretty amazing story, finding love so amazing twice in my father's case, and in my Ma's late thirties. Neat how things happen.

My yogi cousin Peter has told me that my spirit has been around this block once or twice, maybe even 17 times. He's told me that I'm as old as Atlantis in my soul, a fact I firmly believe too. However I still can't deny that my arrival to this existence, through Las Vegas, is karmedy.(Karma/Comedy)

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY UNO AND DUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Melonball Thursday.

Now the joy of a holiday is found in the traditions. Hanging of the wreath, carving of the pumpkin, burning down of the shed. We appreciate the holiday that much more through repitition, let's just keep beating that pinata (dead horse) until the candy falls down and makes everything sweet. Melonball Thursday is no exception.

The Unofficial Holiday celebrating Silliness has been in existance for twenty odd years. It's innocent and humble beginnings have endured the test of time due to it's traditions. The thursday before Easter must be appreciated with silly tales, melonball cocktails, melonball shots and/or melonballs themselves. Like a wise girl in my highschool year book said in her quote, "I graduated just to be silly." Some much of life can be missed if we don't stop and laugh about the flight we just slept through, or the puddle we fell in, or how that silly identity theft blew over in three years.

Here are the photos I've collected over the last couple of years. They're all precious in their own way but V's girl Gianna steals the show. Thanks to all forr their pix, and GirlFran, forgive me, I don't know where I saved the series that you sent me last year. AAaaaaarrrrgggggghhhhh..

So Sue Me.

Sebbeth.

So the third Sebbeth is upon us and a grand play en-Sue'd. My dearest and most steadfast friend in the world is Suzy Q, her identity changed to avoid the paparazzi. We've known each other since the summer of '87 as a pair of reckless bon vivants with a taste for the good life. "Oh, to be young and independently wealthy," was frequently our battle cry as we would lunch or shop or cocktail. Or all three. We enslaved American Express as our back-up singers and vowed to hit Platinum status as a race, Suzy won, but it was close. We competed in suntan degree of darkness by the Cape vacation, to the winner goes the champagne. We've seen funerals, weddings, baptisms, hurricanes, holidays, hemlines, stripteases, booze, blow, boys, food so good we'd photograph it, divorces, dips, shakey suspension bridges, videos, Val, val, pasta, ex's, melonballs, (hee hee, he said 'balls') apple pies, and we've seen each other through hells. There is none better than this cutie in the sweater.

My point, and I do have one, is that Suzy is turning 40 afore me and it's soon. She wasn't going to be able to celebrate proper like, so our friends H, Crazy Indian, and Supermom decide to shanghai Suzy to NYC for St Patrick's Day. Well the stars were in alignment with NYC, St Pats, Sebbeth and my Suzy; I decided to fly in for the weekend to worship my friend. And we were well rewarded. With H as my point person, Suzy was deceived to take the day (and the next) off. She was picked up H and to be driven to New Haven where they would take the train. On the way however, they encountered an odd hitchhiker enroute to NYC himself and stopped to examine the sentinel. Suzy was confused as to this being the village idiot long spoken of or a designer axe-murderer. She had no idea that it was me, or that there was any kind of conspiracy in her honor. Yep. Happy Birthday Darlin'!!!!!!

We gathered and commuted into the City, picking up trash as we went. No, not community service, train stops on the way to NYC kept letting revelers of St. Pats on to our party train. I was confused because I thought that the pope had given celebrants the day off for Holy Week, confuse-me? Stepping out from Grand Central I was reminded as to how cold the East could be. We hightailed it into cabs to make it to the Carnegie Deli but couldn't get past the parade without difficulties. We walked the ways, tripping over Buffalo Bill's former QB Jim Kelly and got right into the packed deli. Corned beef and cabbage anyone? Crazy Indian tried to eat a sandwich larger than his head. The beers were close by, literally the cooler was within arm's reach and the pickles............don't get me started. We began the bar crawl making our way to the finest indian restaurant in the city, Diwan. Oh. My. God. We really didn't deny ourselves anything that day.

And that's how we roll, Suzy Q and I; in fun company, impecible fashion, trendy hotspots and arm and arm. I'm freaking blessed.

St Pat or Melonballmania, catch 'em both if you dare.

Feeling green and not in the least bit envious? Let me tell you what this means. In the springtime there are two important celebrations of renewal; St Patrick's Day on which we all become Irish, and Melonball Thursday on which we all celebrate silliness. Kermit the frog says "it ain't easy being green" but at one time or another we've all been easy for green.


It cracks me up that the Catholic corporation will give everyone wide sweeping special dispensation to break lent and eat meat sic. corned beef so as to keep Holy Week pure. They'll make these enormous wide sweeping edits and still not let women be priests. I digress. Their attempt to move the Saint's birthday to Friday before merely made this binge into a four day weekend. I imagine that the sebbeth of March will still be reveled as Saint Patrick's Day. It's traditionally celebrated with food, beer, green clothing and songs. I plan on doing all this in a secure location. Tune in to find out where....................



Melonball Thursday is this Thursday. Formerly known as Holy Thursday, MBT is the time of the year when we remember silliness is important in life. We celebrate it by telling tales of silliness with good friends or even total strangers. You also may ingest a melonball cocktail, shot or actual melonball. Remember to stop and smell the silly, and send me the fotos of your celebrating. They'll be posted here and at Spatagram.

No mu mus for Momma. Cabo, and bust.

In this extraordinary year, I've vowed to celebrate with style and aplomb, moderately. Also to laugh a lot, dance like nobody's watching and make sure my friends and family know how much I love them. Big Momma has always been a party to my verve and great friend. She also gave me my latest mix CD which I am playing into the ground (those poor neighbors). Big Momma wants to go to Cabo sans kids and hubby, she feels no guilt as she goes above and beyond for her family and their needs. But Big Momma is on to changing her frame and her name. She met with a trainer today who kicked her ass seventeen different ways from Sunday. The Nazi's name eludes me but it lit a fire under my friend. She declared when we go to Cabo, and we will go to Cabo, there will be no mu mus for momma. She scared me with her intensity. So much so that I grabbed my jumprope, my Madonna-packed mp3 player and gave my calfs a lift. No mu mus.

March On.

"Time marches on, and soon it's plain. You've won my heart and I've lost my brain. It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely." -Cole Porter

March is historically the most jammed pack of all the birthday months for me. Most of my family is in this month and a lot of the most important people in my life. It's crazyness I tell you. Crazyness.

As an update, KDog and I haven't been able to go out as the surf has been too big. Please don't think a tsunami is claiming Malibu, that aint the case. But all the surf trash has been extremely smug lately. I guess I'll understand someday, bro. (does shaka 'hang loose' gesture)Don't worry, it will happen.

I'm attaching a photo from the christening of Bob. Taken by Bubbles. That's Zoe trying to escape into the painting. She thought she'd be safer in Capri. The bday girl is just off to the left, with her man, scared by the amount there was to be eaten. I cooked for twenty instead of for seven. My bad. That's Jimmy and Nicole, very full. And mind you as you look at the table, this was after appetizers. Yes there was a lot of food, but it was Oscars, Shane's Bday and Bob's opening. The irony was that Blogger took forever to load the picture. I guess there was a lot of food.

I haven't eaten since.