Last night American Idol highlighted Elton John songs. When I was a very young girl, I loved Elton John. The Idol contestants sang many of my favorite songs. My favorite for the night was Haley, she sang Bennie and the Jets and did a great job. For those who watched the show, did you not love the red baby grand piano! James Durbin lit one on fire in his segment of Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting.
So, here is some inside information... when I was 11 years my father took me to an Elton John concert at Madison Square Garden. 11 years old!!! What was he thinking!!! Elton came out as the Statue of Liberty and said, Here's to you New York. Kiki Dee was there and did their duet, Don't Go Breaking My Heart. It was one of my memorable nights, why, because my daddy took me to see Elton John. He sat there and listened to me sing along and I am sure watched all the people that night. He loved to people watch, he found people fascinating and he talked to EVERYONE. I am quite sure the Italian relatives thought he was nuts, he did not care. I was his baby girl and he only wanted me to be happy. The best daddy in the whole world!!! I miss him more and more as I get older, he passed away in 1996. Tomorrow, March 31st would have been his 82nd birthday. Happy Birthday Daddy, thanks for the memories.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Quotes
Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them!
-Oliver Wendell Holmes
Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.
-Victor Hugo
Praise the LORD with the harp;
Make melody to Him with an instrument of ten strings.
Sing to Him a new song;
Play skillfully with a shout of joy.
-Psalm 33:2-3
-Oliver Wendell Holmes
Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.
-Victor Hugo
Praise the LORD with the harp;
Make melody to Him with an instrument of ten strings.
Sing to Him a new song;
Play skillfully with a shout of joy.
-Psalm 33:2-3
Bill Ervolino
Happy Sunday!! I love to read Bill Ervolino in The Record on Thursdays and Sundays. He is Italian and writes the funniest stories about his Italian family. The post below is his latest article and I was laughing because this is how my family is. It's all about the envelope and how much to put in. For those who are not Italian, I am so sorry for you, HA!
Ervolino: Family finds joy in the endless recycling of cash gifts
Sunday, March 27, 2011
LAST UPDATED: SUNDAY MARCH 27, 2011, 10:03 AM
By BILL ERVOLINO
COLUMNIST
My parents can't tell you what they had for lunch yesterday but they can tell you what my mother's cousin Annabelle gave them as a wedding present in 1949.
Or, was it 1948?
"Isn't that funny?" my mother asked last weekend. "I can never remember what year we got married."
But: "Annabelle and her husband put $25 in the envelope."
"Annabelle and George?" I asked.
"No, George was her second husband. Her first husband was ... oh, who remembers? The one with the funny nose."
When I was growing up, the word "gifts" only came up at Christmas. For every other occasion, we used "envelopes."
Weddings? Envelopes. Anniversaries? Envelopes.
We even brought envelopes to funerals.
"Oh, Aunt Marie, I'm so sorry for your loss. But ... here's $75!"
I was reminded of this last Saturday, as my family prepared to surprise my sister-in-law Joyce on the occasion of her 50th birthday — which [ahem] isn't until May.
I'm not sure what the bigger surprise was: that Joyce's sister Carol was throwing this lavish bash at all, or that she was throwing it two months before Joyce's birthday.
As Carol explained: "Joyce said she absolutely did not want a party. If we tried to do it, and planned it closer to her birthday, she wouldn't have come. So we decided to do it in March."
Fine. Whatever. Let's just get this over with.
I knew what time I had to be there. I knew what I was wearing. And I knew what I had to yell: "Surprise! Don't blame us! It's all Carol's fault!"
The only other matter yet to be determined was The Envelope.
In the early '90s, my gift-phobic family had an infallible formula for birthdays: Everybody gave everybody else $50. I gave my mother $50 on her birthday. She gave my brother $50 on his birthday. He gave my father $50 on his birthday. And so on and so forth.
Sounds exciting, doesn't it?
In retrospect, I'm not even sure why we bothered going to the bank to withdraw the cash we put in these envelopes. We could have just passed a wet tea bag around the table and, by the end of the year, still wound up with the same amount of money in our pockets.
Eventually, though, the $50 was raised to $100. Then, to further complicate matters, my niece was born.
The following year, my brother and Joyce gave me a combined gift of $300, even though I had only given them $100 each.
"What's this?" I asked, as three crisp $100 bills fluttered into my lap.
As Joyce explained, "It's $100 from me, $100 from your brother and $100 from Talia."
"From Talia?" I asked, incredulously. "Please don't tell me she's working already. I just changed her diaper 10 minutes ago."
"Well, of course not," Joyce replied. "But you give to her and ... what are we supposed to do?"
Things were equally confusing last weekend. Since Joyce gave me a nice (non-surprise) party for my 50th birthday, I had no idea what to give her for hers, since I didn't know what she spent on the party. My mother had already decided, though: She and my father were giving a check for $500.
Dad thought a check was tacky. "Give it to her in $50 bills," he said.
"Cash?" my mother screamed. "I'm not bringing an envelope with all that money in it to a restaurant!"
This argument raged on, with lots of yelling, snide remarks, banging frying pans etc.
Eventually, my brother Donald intervened. "I know my wife," he said to my parents. "If you give her a check, she won't cash it."
My mother later discussed this with me, mulled it over and finally decided, "Donald's right. I hate the idea of walking around with all of that cash in an envelope, but ..."
"Fine," I replied. "Just stop TALKING about it."
"And, what about you?" my mother continued. "Do you know what you're putting in the envelope?"
"I'm still not sure," I said. "It's been a bad month, expense-wise. I was just going to give her a check for $200. But if she's not going to cash it, I may as well give her a check for $250."
My mother rolled her eyes. "Do you need money? I have $250 under the plant in the dining room."
"Is that your emergency money?" I asked.
"No, that's my mad money. My emergency money is in a plastic bag behind the refrigerator."
As it turned out, my brother was wrong: Joyce deposited my $250 check and returned my parents' cash.
"She left it on my dining room table on Sunday," Mom said.
In an envelope.
E-mail: ervolino@northjersey.com
Ervolino: Family finds joy in the endless recycling of cash gifts
Sunday, March 27, 2011
LAST UPDATED: SUNDAY MARCH 27, 2011, 10:03 AM
By BILL ERVOLINO
COLUMNIST
My parents can't tell you what they had for lunch yesterday but they can tell you what my mother's cousin Annabelle gave them as a wedding present in 1949.
Or, was it 1948?
"Isn't that funny?" my mother asked last weekend. "I can never remember what year we got married."
But: "Annabelle and her husband put $25 in the envelope."
"Annabelle and George?" I asked.
"No, George was her second husband. Her first husband was ... oh, who remembers? The one with the funny nose."
When I was growing up, the word "gifts" only came up at Christmas. For every other occasion, we used "envelopes."
Weddings? Envelopes. Anniversaries? Envelopes.
We even brought envelopes to funerals.
"Oh, Aunt Marie, I'm so sorry for your loss. But ... here's $75!"
I was reminded of this last Saturday, as my family prepared to surprise my sister-in-law Joyce on the occasion of her 50th birthday — which [ahem] isn't until May.
I'm not sure what the bigger surprise was: that Joyce's sister Carol was throwing this lavish bash at all, or that she was throwing it two months before Joyce's birthday.
As Carol explained: "Joyce said she absolutely did not want a party. If we tried to do it, and planned it closer to her birthday, she wouldn't have come. So we decided to do it in March."
Fine. Whatever. Let's just get this over with.
I knew what time I had to be there. I knew what I was wearing. And I knew what I had to yell: "Surprise! Don't blame us! It's all Carol's fault!"
The only other matter yet to be determined was The Envelope.
In the early '90s, my gift-phobic family had an infallible formula for birthdays: Everybody gave everybody else $50. I gave my mother $50 on her birthday. She gave my brother $50 on his birthday. He gave my father $50 on his birthday. And so on and so forth.
Sounds exciting, doesn't it?
In retrospect, I'm not even sure why we bothered going to the bank to withdraw the cash we put in these envelopes. We could have just passed a wet tea bag around the table and, by the end of the year, still wound up with the same amount of money in our pockets.
Eventually, though, the $50 was raised to $100. Then, to further complicate matters, my niece was born.
The following year, my brother and Joyce gave me a combined gift of $300, even though I had only given them $100 each.
"What's this?" I asked, as three crisp $100 bills fluttered into my lap.
As Joyce explained, "It's $100 from me, $100 from your brother and $100 from Talia."
"From Talia?" I asked, incredulously. "Please don't tell me she's working already. I just changed her diaper 10 minutes ago."
"Well, of course not," Joyce replied. "But you give to her and ... what are we supposed to do?"
Things were equally confusing last weekend. Since Joyce gave me a nice (non-surprise) party for my 50th birthday, I had no idea what to give her for hers, since I didn't know what she spent on the party. My mother had already decided, though: She and my father were giving a check for $500.
Dad thought a check was tacky. "Give it to her in $50 bills," he said.
"Cash?" my mother screamed. "I'm not bringing an envelope with all that money in it to a restaurant!"
This argument raged on, with lots of yelling, snide remarks, banging frying pans etc.
Eventually, my brother Donald intervened. "I know my wife," he said to my parents. "If you give her a check, she won't cash it."
My mother later discussed this with me, mulled it over and finally decided, "Donald's right. I hate the idea of walking around with all of that cash in an envelope, but ..."
"Fine," I replied. "Just stop TALKING about it."
"And, what about you?" my mother continued. "Do you know what you're putting in the envelope?"
"I'm still not sure," I said. "It's been a bad month, expense-wise. I was just going to give her a check for $200. But if she's not going to cash it, I may as well give her a check for $250."
My mother rolled her eyes. "Do you need money? I have $250 under the plant in the dining room."
"Is that your emergency money?" I asked.
"No, that's my mad money. My emergency money is in a plastic bag behind the refrigerator."
As it turned out, my brother was wrong: Joyce deposited my $250 check and returned my parents' cash.
"She left it on my dining room table on Sunday," Mom said.
In an envelope.
E-mail: ervolino@northjersey.com
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Go Organic
I am a big fan of organic, anything organic. Mostly fruits and veggies. My local newspaper had an article about organic foods and I thought I would pass this on to you, my faithful reader. I try to buy organic when I can (can be pricey) but if I am unable, I use a product called Veggie Wash to rinse them with. Do we really want to ingest pesticide contaminated foods? I think not. One thing I will not compromise on is apples, they must be organic. Think Meryl Streep a few years back and her report on apples. Most supermarkets sell organic produce, shop around for the best prices. So here is the info from the newspaper;
The Dirty Dozen - The most pesticide-contaminated fruits and veggies:
Celery, peaches, strawberries,apples, blueberries, nectarines, bell peppers, spinach, cherries, kale/collard greens, potatoes, imported grapes
The Clean 15 - The least pesticide-contaminated fruits and veggies:
Onions, avocado, sweet corn, pineapple, mangoes, sweet peas, asparagus, kiwi, cabbage, eggplant, cantaloupe, watermelon, grapefruit, sweet potato, honeydew melon
I have this list posted on my fridge, go organic!
The Dirty Dozen - The most pesticide-contaminated fruits and veggies:
Celery, peaches, strawberries,apples, blueberries, nectarines, bell peppers, spinach, cherries, kale/collard greens, potatoes, imported grapes
The Clean 15 - The least pesticide-contaminated fruits and veggies:
Onions, avocado, sweet corn, pineapple, mangoes, sweet peas, asparagus, kiwi, cabbage, eggplant, cantaloupe, watermelon, grapefruit, sweet potato, honeydew melon
I have this list posted on my fridge, go organic!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Movie Review
I watched Like Dandelion Dust last night and it was okay. This movie is based upon Karen Kingsbury's novel of the same name. I really do not like when the movie changes so much about the book. Bottom line on the story, woman is abused by husband and he is sent to prison for 7 years. She found out she was pregnant and gave the baby up for adoption by forging her husband's signature on the papers. Husband gets out of jail and she tells him about the baby, he wants his son back. Joey has been living the past 6 years with the only parents he has ever known, now they have to give him back because the adoption was illegal. The book and movie scenes of these exchanges were heart wrenching. I will say that Mira Sorvino (love her!) was excellent as Wendy, the battered wife. You will have to read the book or watch the movie to see how this all turns out. My recommendation, if you have not read the book, see the movie. If you have read the book, pass on the movie, the book was better. Hubby started to watch the movie with me and then left, too depressing he said. Enough said.
My Virtual Cat
Check out my new pet! If you move your mouse he follows, he purrs and meows, cool! Don't have to worry about allergies either. Have fun.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
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