Category Archives: Mr. J

Don’t Blink

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They say it all the time.

Don’t blink. Enjoy every moment because one day you’ll wake up and your baby won’t be a baby anymore.

And here she is, my daughter, just born yesterday…about to turn 10. Almost as tall as me, thin and lanky (unlike me) with royal blue streaks in her hair. We have to shop in the Juniors Department for her because she is mostly limbs and has no desire to wear shirts with cartoons or cheesy sayings.

Alora is very much her father, and if he were alive, I don’t know how he’d be handling all of these changes in the little girl she was. I don’t know how he’d handle seeing all the similarities between the two of them now, both physically and mentally, because I sure as hell don’t keep it together a lot of the time.

There is beautiful mirroring: the soft brown of her eyes set beneath familiar brows. The shape of her feet and toes identical to ones I’ve seen before.

And there is some ugliness. Deep-seeded frustration after disappointment. Quick sarcasm to deflect questions. Unexplained sadness that comes in like waves. Deja vu.

Like most young ladies she can be two people: in one breath arguing valid points of contentment with my parenting and in her exhale curling up beside me in silence, only wanting to be held.

I love her so very much. Sometimes I’m so angry that I happened to blink.

 




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After-Hours Tortellini with Smoked Sausage and Vegetables in a Spicy Cream Sauce by Joshua

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As strange as it may sound to some, I consider myself to be pretty lucky. I’ve been blessed with two tremendous love stories (and a handful of rather unimpressive attempts) in my short lifetime.

There is a beautiful future in front of me with Michael, who I have the honor of marrying next November. But that does not  mean I can’t look behind with reflection and gratitude for the first man I married. The end of this month marks another year since he passed away – and it is no different than any other year thus far without him; it tough, strange, and always changing.

Autumn has always been my favorite time of year and at the same time, it is now a reminder of those days when everything was so raw. The time of year we both loved has been changed forever.

Joshua had eyes the color of chestnuts. They were soulful and said more than any words that fell from his mouth. We shared many laughs. We had many fights. We loved with an intensity that was often misconstrued to the outside world. It was light and it was dark. It was love.

He worked hard in a restaurant kitchen and at the end of each shift, all of the cooks were allowed to make their own meals to take home. Sometimes they took advantage of the opportunity and made the largest steak in the house or lump crab cakes. But most of the time, Joshua’s meals were bowls of tortellini tossed with a spicy cream sauce, vegetables, and sausage.

He’d sit in the brown corduroy chair, completely exhausted, and eat what was usually the only meal he’d had all day.

It is a meal that is quick yet rich, and reminds me of late nights and conversations with a man who I loved deeply and who drove me absolutely crazy. I am proud to have been his wife and the mother of his child.

We can all be honest that this dish is not fancy or gourmet in any way. However it was born from the brain and made by the strong hands of a damn good man. Cheers to that.

Joshua’s After-Hours Tortellini

  •  1 teaspoon grapeseed oil
  • 1 cup thinly sliced red pepper
  • 1 cup thinly sliced red onion
  • 1/2 lb. thinly sliced kielbasa or smoked sausage
  • 1 clove of garlic, minced
  • 1/4 cup dry white wine or chicken broth
  • 1 cup heavy cream
  • 1 – 2 teaspoons sriracha sauce, depending on taste
  • 1 big fist full of baby spinach, chopped roughly
  • 1/2 cup diced tomato
  • 1 cup tortellini, cooked according to package directions
  • salt and pepper

Preheat a large skillet over medium high heat. Drizzle in the oil, and when hot add in the peppers and onions. Stir to coat with oil and continue to cook, stirring occasionally for 5 minutes. Lightly season with salt and pepper. Add in the sausage, mixing to combine, and cook for another 7 minutes.

Add in the garlic and cook for 1 minute. Stir in the wine, and cook, stirring occasionally until the alcohol is evaporated, about 3 minutes.

Reduce the heat to medium, stir in the cream and sriracha sauce and cook until the sauce starts to thicken a little bit, about 3 minutes. Taste and season with salt and pepper.

Stir in the spinach and tomatoes and cook for 2 minutes allowing the spinach to lightly wilt. Add in the cooked tortellini and cook for a minute or two to warm them through.

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A Fund for Jennie

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You may have seen my post, or more likely, one of the many thousands of posts about Jennifer Perillo, the sudden loss of her husband, Mikey and Peanut Butter pies.

It was a beautiful thing to watch unfold online last week during a time of sadness. A community of people, and not just bloggers, virtually gathering all the love they had in their heart, making Peanut Butter Pies and sending words out to the universe, hoping they found their way to the people who needed them the most. As I read the posts, I laughed, I cried and I wanted to pretty much hug the entire planet.

Now, the site Bloggers Without Borders (founded by Maggy, Erika, and Aimee) are hosting A Fund for Jennie to help ease the financial burden of suddenly going from two incomes to one, with two small children. Bills, food, insurance – as we all know, it adds up and does so quickly. The project was created by Shauna (Gluten-Free Girl) to help her dear friend. More light in darkness…….

You can donate any amount or keep your eyes peeled for the auctions going on via individual blogs. Do it. Because I said so. As cliche as the term has become, it is true: Any amount helps.

Normally, I try to keep the majority of the details of my private life…private – but this situation speaks to me, unfortunately. I want anyone who is reading this to know why I care so much. A beautiful soul lost her husband and two young girls lost their father. Instantly. No time for making plans.

Ten years ago, I was 18 and working in a coffee shop and living in the basement of my best friend’s house.

On July 20th of that year my best friend and I decided to have a very mature social gathering of friends  teenage house party. Somehow in preparing for everyone to arrive I was told that a person of the male persuasion that I admired from afar was coming.

To make a long story short, he came to the party. That ‘admired from afar’ became ‘admired from really close’ in a matter of minutes. At some point there was a bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill wine involved (because when you’re underage, you have to keep it classy. Hi Mom!).

Awkward Teenage Photos!

 

At some point everyone had left for the most part and I didn’t want to be alone in the house – so he invited me over to sleep at his house.

I did. I more than did….I moved in with him that night. Seriously.

Then we had a baby.
Then we got married.

When he was 25, he suddenly passed away. Like that.

One day everything was our brand of normal, then in a blink he was gone for absolutely no reason.

We had to find a new normal and it was hard. Actually, let me rephrase that, it was the most defining, and to this day it continues to be the most difficult thing I’ve had to do, not just for myself but also for our daughter. He may not be here, but Alora will know her father – through stories, music, pictures…and some funny anecdotes as she gets older.

Moving forward does not mean we have forgotten. Smiling and laughing does not mean we do not grieve. Although sometimes it feels as though time has stood still, it has not.

So now that I’ve flashed you a little bit of my heart, go hug someone that you love more than cheese and chocolate. Then truly think about donating to Jennie and her beautiful girls. And when you do donate – know that I’m eHugging you for making a difference in the lives of the Perillo family, in a time where it seems like ugliness will never end.
Donate to Bloggers Without Borders

 

Yours truly -

Adryon

PS. Thank you for reading the ramblings of an insane woman. I heart you.

 




 

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Pop!

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For almost 10 years, I sort of lived in a bubble of privacy. I kept my little family close and never let outsiders into the world that had been created by the hands of myself and my late husband. To me, it was just too intensely beautiful and special for the whole world to be privy to.

When Josh passed the bubble became smaller and more restrictive. I didn’t want to keep some friendships going because I was afraid of the pain I would have to endure if I lost them too. In hindsight I know that this logic kept me from a lot of things I should have said and done. Some of these things I can change; some I have and some I will very soon.

By accident on my part, this blog happened. My best friend bought a domain name, my good friend Andy developed a site just for me (which is now a WordPress theme), and my boyfriend made a logo based off of one of my tattoos (which I’ve made him change so many times it makes his eyes bleed). They did this all behind my back as a birthday present and when I was presented with it, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I still don’t.

However in them thrusting me into the internet, I didn’t realize I’d find myself again. I’d been everything but ‘Adryon’ for so long and suddenly  there was a piece of me out there that I didn’t have to hide or edit and it felt good to share my food, my life and some of its quirks. I’ve made friends with people I’d never met and may not any time soon. There is a small community of people who want to read things I write, create dialogue on a number of topics, sometimes hurl insults, but often make me feel I am close to a light at the end of the cliche-as-shit storm. To those of you who see yourself in that statement, thank you.

I’ve been (mostly) keeping a secret for a week now. Due to the oddness that is my life I didn’t want to share my personal happiness because I was uneasy about who would find the information and distribute it in a distorted game of ‘Telephone.’ To those of you who see yourself in that statement, fuck you.

So on my parent’s 36th wedding anniversary, here goes:

I am engaged and I am getting married.

I am happy in ways that can not be quantified or put into words.

I am getting married and no matter who is reading this, I hope you know it is the most beautiful thing I’ve said in a long time.

Consider this bubble popped. Forever.

Boom.

Thank you again. I love you. For cereal.
Adryon

 

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Journals

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I have kept journals from the first time I felt an emo thought. I used them to vent in a way I thought was more healthy than holding all the teenage angst in. Each journal is a volume of ridiculousness  following my  melodramatic story.

My first journal starts around age 14 when my first month-long boyfriend gave me one for Christmas and then broke up with me a few weeks later. I wrote in that sucker every day contemplating the reason he did not loveth me anymoreth. Except I did it through poetry. Bad poetry from a heart broken 14 year old.

“I find myself drowning – in letters never written,
I let myself remember – kisses never given.”

What does that even mean?

Then there’s the journal in which I chronicled the drama of my 16 year old self’s relationship with a 25 year old. He loved me! He loved me not! (Illegally, I know.) The detailed scrawlings of our hours long phone calls, and the 13 break-ups we had over the course of a year.

I had a pager in that journal – I had forgotten all about those things.

“You attempt to romanticize my pain by reassuring me that you loved me at one time or another.”

Haha – I wasn’t lying – ridiculous.

I have a ‘not a girl-not yet a woman’ journal in which I grapple with how “mature I am” (ha) compared to other teenagers. There’s accounts of my struggle with sexual assault, self-image, the product of a four year long crush and contemplations of my future.

“Having to face the realities of my own bullshit just wasn’t enough for me. I have infinite words of frustration and confusion on the tip of my tongue.”

Are you traumatized yet?


Fast forward to the ‘Oh shit, I’m pregnant’ journal in which I fret over completely screwing up a tiny human being with my inadequacies as a soon-to-be mother.  Also included are the first few months after my daughter’s birth with pages full of wonderment and shameless adorations of my love for her.

“I am a belly full of life and an undiscovered love. I am swollen with happiness and an unknown joy – yet simultaneously drowning in fear and self loathing. I fear I will fail as a mother. It is frightening to imagine an unselfish life but how BEAUTIFUL to imagine a whole made from two parts that share a love more infinite than any other feeling that presently resides.”


Last night I stumbled on my ‘widow’ journal – which I started 2 days after Mr. J passed away. It is crammed with drunken scribbles, poems, letters to him, confusion, disbelief, guilt, and love. There are inserted pages that I wrote on my typewriter. The whole thing is a pretty ugly project. I’ve never let anyone anywhere near it.

I’ve been pseudo blogging for 8 months now, and the one thing I rarely touch on here, and most times in my ‘real’ life, is the loss I faced. Partially because it is a part of my life that I am too afraid to share, and partially because the entire situation was such a clusterfuck, I never thought I’d be able to make sense of it out loud. In doing so though, I’ve kept myself from healing – and from sharing. I’ve taken away my own voice, which might not only help me, but possibly another person feeling the same way. Life isn’t always black and white. Neither is love. Neither is death.

“I still have not been thoroughly convinced he is gone – not sure if I ever will be. I know what I saw, but the hunt of even the possibility will either heal me, or one day commit me. Everywhere I go, everything I do. He’s there.”

Part of my plan for 2011 is to be a better human. In every sense – mentally, physically and spiritually. I need to face my hurt, and my demons – share my joy and utter hopes for the future. So, as this little site is my current journal – I’m going to be more open, going to share more.

For Christmas, my friend Andy bought me a new journal; bright red, leather, and completely empty. With a life so full of love and joy I can not wait to fill the pages.

To a new year!

Adryon





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“My Temple’s Been Invaded and There’s Nobody Guarding It”

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I tried to find a cute little quote about control or anxiety to start this post with….but none were able to summarize my not so shocking situation in a condensed sentence. It has become larger than life.

I remember vividly when I realized life ends and sometimes there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I’ve never once talked about what I saw, or what I went through with anyone and locked it away. I became a prisoner in my own head and there was no turning back. Continue reading →

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Thankful

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Fall has always been my favorite time of year. The first day I can wear a hoodie, I rejoice. The leaves under my feet crunch and stick to the bottoms of my flip flops (that I wear until it snows). The drinks at coffee shops change and the beauty of the changing colors of nature make me giddy.

My mom’s birthday and Mr. M’s birthday are days apart so there is much to celebrate. There’s Halloween! Thanksgiving! My daughter has off school so many days my head spins! Scratch that last one.

It’s a time of reflection for me. I see the changes in the seasons as I can see the changes in myself and my family.

I commemorate the loss of Mr. J, who loved this time of year more than I do. I envision him walking with his white chocolate mocha, wrapped in a navy blue sweatshirt. I will celebrate his birthday later this month and reflect on the many birthdays we shared together. On his 23rd birthday, I took him to get his lip pierced and afterward he wanted a beer – only to be infuriated when he realized a lip with a new hole in it and a bottle of lager don’t mix.

Once you have seen your husband drinking a beer in a bar…through a straw…it gets ingrained in your brain.

Through my loss, I also give thanks for the life I have now.

I have a daughter that grows every day with more wisdom and kindness than I thought possible. She’s a little activist with a voice for all she feels do not have one. I anxiously await seeing the kind of woman she’ll become.

Somehow I was lucky enough to bribe find love with Mr. M who swooped in with superhero powers and continues to save the day. He’s passionate about life, handsome and looks so dang cute in flannel shirts. I would list all the things I love about him, but then I’ll start crying and it’s too early for that nonsense. It’s the beard.

I am surrounded by a handful of truly supportive friends whose love, humor and thoughtfulness fill my days with a resonating peace I wish for every person in the world. Without them, life would be boring and I’d have no stories to tell when I’ve had too many cocktails.

I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a job to go to.

Despite the many obstacles I have and will face, I know that somewhere – maybe a country over, or possibly next door- they are harder and fiercer than I could ever imagine. I am humble. I am thankful.

I am blessed to see another Autumn, and for that, I give my thanks.

Adryon

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