option c

Chapter 2

I was 12 when I decided to do something about it. This state of affairs was getting no one anywhere. So I talked my father into joining the mob.

It was relatively easy. I fed him some spirited mumbo jumbo about "justice, honor and vengeance." Perhaps more compelling was the threat of death. I told him that Lansky, THE Lansky, was upset that I had taught his son how to pray the rosary and was going to send Murder Inc. after us if we didn't join. It was the 1940s. My father had enough trouble in Brooklyn being Italian. Deep inside, I think he was glad. He hadn't been in a good fight since Napoli. And I was elated to be nestled safely in the heart of the city, far away from the sucking waves at the shoreline.

"Rosie, " My father always punctuated my name with a twist of his moustache. "You still hanging around with that little Lansky? The Boss say we are swimming to Italy if his son becomes a priest." Turning his head to look at me straight, my father gave me the only piece of advice I ever heard from his lips, "You keep away from boys, Rosie. They'll gamble away your hairpins."

Well, I didn't want to stop hanging out with "Little Lansky." His name was Frankie and he was always getting into fights over me at lunch. Some freckled kid with a last name like Porter would call me some sort of name and then Frankie would call him something back and give him a swing to the jaw to remember it later. We would stop by the church on the way back from school and Frankie would confess his daily pounding. Secretly, I wished he would hold my hand.

"Rosie," (twist of the moustache) "Remember to pray for your stupid fear. No one can amount to much in this country afraid of stupid things."
"Yes, Papa."
"And don't hang out with the Little Lansky. I'm not stupid afraid like you but I can't swim to our Italy."
"Yes, Papa."
"You know I don't give my wisdom often."
"I know, Papa."

a) Finally, it was for the proctection offered and threatened by the mafia that I stopped seeing Frankie

b.) And I did know. I knew many things. And I knew I wasn't about to stop seeing Frankie

and now for a brief word from our sponsor. . .

For those of you wondering where all the beautiful pictures of Addison went, please divert your gaze to the right and click on the "Addison" link. We will try to keep it updated to your satisfaction.
the management

option wins

Chapter 1

I felt, back then, as useless as a left handed oyster. The world can be very unkind to a left handed oyster. They say. My father used to tell me, "Rosie, you can't be afraid of something stupid forever." And then he would raise his broad Italian shoulders in a sad shrug, as if he had already lived through forever and knew these sorts of things. You see, its bad enough being scared of the sea, Thalassophobia to be exact, but if your family works on a sailboat. . . its tragic. Maybe I should clarify. I loved the sea. Once we were out on the water, and the snap of the sail above cracked in the wind over salty waves, I was content. It was the shore line that terrified me. The space between the dock and the side of the boat made me so petrified I frequently lost my lunch on the spot. It was the transition, the seam of the sea and solid ground. I know this may sound ridiculous but try to understand. Have you never looked with even mild discomfort at the place where the escalator becomes the airport floor? Does your mind never skid to a horrified halt at the prospect of being SUCKED IN? If not, than you may have every right to think me barking mad.
I was a mess. And a shame to my family, so proud to be offering sightseeing tours to visitors of Sheepshead Bay in Brooklyn. As second generation imigrants, my parents were bursting with pride for their little sailboat that sped along the coastline of the New Jersey they loved. They tried to hide their embarrasment over their only child clinging to the planks of the family's slip.
I was 12 when I decided to do something about it. This state of affairs was getting no one anywhere. So I. . .

a.) hopped on the 4:55 train to Philadelphia, and from there to the only place I knew had no bodies of water.

b.) decided to try fear therapy. My therapist, ironically enough was Dr. Phish.

c.) talked my father into joining the mob.

Choose your Own Adventure #2

Ok. This was so great last time that I thought we could do it again. It works the same. You vote on the way you want the story to go and the most votes chooses the next segment of the adventure. I don't know where the story goes any more than you do until its written. So much fun. And this time, you get to vote on the first line!

a) I once shot a man's ear clean off.

b) When I was a girl I was convinced I was a mermaid, conch shells included.

c) I felt, back then, as useless as a left-handed oyster. The world can be very unkind to a left-handed oyster. They say.

Famous Addie

So this is a fun story. A photographer named Roger Bruhn is being featured at the Modern Arts Midwest Gallery above the Mill in the Haymarket. He is doing a series called "About Face" and Addison's picture is in it! Our dear friend Renee Welstead was the person who introduced us to Roger as he was looking for a new baby to photograph for the display. The website calls the series ". . . colossal giclee prints dealing with the human face by renowned local photographer Roger Bruhn." The pictures are being featured all this month so they should still be on display for a few more days. So I guess if you would like a ginormous picture of Addison Davy for a mere $1,500, head on down to the Modern Arts Midwest Gallery and hand over the cash. :) Here is a picture of some of the fam contemplating her hugeness.

Its a pretty sweet project that captures the beauty of aging. So even if you aren't interested in decorating an entire wall with Addison's chubby cheeks it would be worth it to stroll through the exhibit.

bonus

And because I didn't post a picture of Addison in the last post. the audacity. She is getting so much better at grabbing things. This is her new favorite grab/slobber toy.

Life without Cheese

Is no life at all. Naturally, the rest of the world may have an aversion to my incessant grumbling about this topic. Therefore, I strive to preserve it for the occasional rant. Like this one. You see, my body doesn't make a sufficient supply of the enzyme lactase. Hence, no lactose (insert "yummy food") in my diet. Addison can't digest dairy. Practically, this means no cheese. At one time, I could have imagined consuming a diet of milk products. Think about it. cottage cheese. ice cream. cheese. cheese whiz. cream cheese. cheese cake. yoghurt. chocolate milk. slabs of butter. to name a few. The contemplation of said diet now gives me shivers. Lots and lots of unhappy. So, I would like to include here a list of the things that I love that don't have dairy:

Hummus, turkey and tomato (from our garden) sandwich on whole wheat bread
ginger cookies
bbq chicken
cereal with soy milk
soy chai
egg salad sandwich with sprouts on toasted whole wheat bread
razzleberry pie from Marie Calendars
mango sorbet
sour gummy candy (did you know that you can lick a gummy bear and it will stick to your forehead?)
dal
black beans and rice
pinneaple
stir fry

Ok. I'm feeling less sorry for myself. And honestly, tofutti ice cream, although made with tofu, is not a shabby ice cream alternative. So here is my challenge. For all of you people with joy in your lives and milk in your bellies, think back to the last time you ate a meal without one drop of dairy (this means no butter. . . really). Let me know what it was - maybe I'll discover another of my favorite non-gas-inducing foods. I'll raise my glass of soy milk to that!