I've always wanted to learn to fly.

Perhaps this isn't the best time to bring this up, with the tragic small-plane death yesterday of Yankee Cory Lidle and his unfortunate instructor, who crashed into a luxury high-rise, resurrecting New York's fears of terrorism via air.

My parents did name me Robin, after all.

My maiden name translates from German to "nut tree".

My married name translates from German to "bird".

So what can one expect from a bird-girl from a nut tree?



I still want to learn to fly. Although if I could do so sans airplane, it would be nicer--like they're doing on HEROES.

Dan and I got married July 30, 1978. He was 27 and I was 24. We wed on a sultry Sunday outdoors at Terrace on the Green, in Eisenhower Park, a place that held great significance for me. I used to commute through that park to Nassau Community College for two years; I drove back and forth to more than one job, including Newsday. Eisenhower was a beautiful park where, separately, Dan and I picnicked, played, saw concerts, shows; it was a major hub of our lives--and the lives of nearly everyone we'd be inviting to our wedding. So it seemed only natural for Dan and I to get married and have our reception there, under a red and white striped tent like a couple of circus clowns.

It was a very steamy day, but at least the predicted rain never happened. I was so nervous, I couldn't stop sweating, so applying my makeup was nearly impossible. Harriet, my only attendant, proclaimed me beautiful when she joined me in the bridal dressing room, but I snarled at her, still trying to get my face and hair the way I wanted them, and she hastened to help, curling iron at the ready. By the time someone knocked at the door to chirp, "Time to get married!", I looked halfway OK. Harriet said, "You look PERFECT!"

The procession started. My mother and brother each took one of my arms to lead me down the aisle. My dress got caught on a stick in the ground, and something tore. "SHIT!" I yelled, loud enough for the assembled guests to hear me.

The rabbi said stuff, Dan and I said stuff, a beetle landed on the rim of the wine glass, which later got crunched under Dan's foot, and I was a suddenly married woman, changed from nut tree to full-fledged bird.

The reception was a whirlwind of dancing, pictures, smooching when everyone tapped their glasses with their forks, but very little eating, so after it was over, Dan and I went out for Chinese food. It was in the bathroom there that I looked at my reflection, burst into tears, and demanded of myself, "WHAT HAVE I DONE? MY GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE?"

I love Dan very much, but you know what? Twenty-eight years later, I sometimes still ask myself that question.

Love, Robin

I wish my back and shoulders didn't hurt so much. This is getting OLD. I walked today, but I must confess, it's getting harder and harder for the music and walking to drown out the discomfort in so many parts of my body. And I sure don't want to have to resort to strong painkillers. What's a gal to do?

I had a three day weekend, which I really enjoyed. Dan had to work yesterday and Brad spent the entire weekend at Ali's, so I was alone. I'd like to say I utilized it wisely and well, but aside from necessary grocery shopping, a walk around the lake at Brady Park (the weather was perfect and when I gave myself the choice of gym inside or an outdoor walk, there was no doubt of my selection), and a delightful afternoon nap, I did very little.

I was glad to see Brad arrive home safely, garbage bagful of dirty laundry in tow. I was expecting him home around 3 PM, but he showed up closer to 4:30, and of course this mama left a message on his cell phone asking him, "Where ARE you?"

Bob Kasten, our second-in-command manager to Gary, is going on a detail to Western Nassau to take over Mike Burd's (he's retiring) position of Manager, Transportation there. We broke Bob in so nicely, and now he's already leaving. Craig Barnes should have had the job Bob got so quickly and easily, but sometimes, timing is everything, and Craig simply wasn't in the right place at the right time; Burd was. I realize all this means nothing to you folks reading, but it's all office politics and bullshit, and THAT, I'm sure you can all comprehend only too well! Suffice it to say that I'm sorry Bobby is going because I like him and wonder who will take his place and if he'll be as easy to work with as Bob has been.

Other changes are in the offing, too, and I've never done well with change. If it's not broken, leave it alone. If it is broken, slap some tape on it and leave it alone!

Dan's friend, Mike, came over by train Sunday. I slept through most of his visit, too, no loss there. This is a different Mike (college nickname: Windy, because he talks too much and too fast, a habit he hasn't lost) from Dan's usual friend. I never liked this guy much, mostly because I don't trust him. When he married Suzanne, a rich, much younger woman, many years ago, she forced him to dump us as friends because we weren't good enough for her. They eventually divorced (his second), and while he apologized for allowing her to get between him and Dan, I still don't trust him. The way it worked out, I drove along when Dan dropped Windy (who still monopolizes every conversation) off at the train station, pecked his cheek and said goodbye. Mike is returning to San Francisco soon and we probably won't be seeing him for a long while. No loss. I know Dan still values his friendship on some level, but I don't--and never will. With all the gray hair on his face (except the bald top of his head, muttonchop whiskers and messy goatee), Windy looks like a deranged leprechaun.

Dan, Mike (the OTHER one) and I went to the Farmingdale street fair Saturday. CROWDED! It was fun, although we didn't find the Pickle People there, a big disappointment. There was the usual tons of jewelry and purses, handmade items and heavenly-smelling food. I bought socks, of all things, not exciting, but necessary.

I hit some garage sales, too, which were quite prevalent this weekend. The weather has been Indian-summerlike and gorgeous, but tomorrow is supposed to bring a nasty change--rain, cold and ick. We have to keep reminding ourselves--it's FALL!

Hope you're all doing well!

Love, Robin

You've grown to know a lot about me since I started keeping this blog, but I wanted to fill you in on a few facts I might have left out so far:

1. I graduated SUNY Brockport, NY, in 1976. I thought it was really cool being a bi-centennial grad, now I think it's been too many years since I graduated and I'm just really old.

2. My degree was in Speech Communications. I intended to go for teaching, but there were NO teaching positions available in 1976, and my guidance counselor felt I wouldn't be able to get a non-teaching position if companies saw a teaching certificate on my resume, so he urged me not to get one. I wish I hadn't listened to him, because I think I'd have made a dynamite teacher.

3. I loved writing, so I hoped to work for a publishing, advertising or similar company.

3. My first job of any consequence, post-college, was at a vanity publishing house, Exposition Press, where authors paid to have their books published. For $100 per week, I worked in sales/promotions, trying to tell books no one wanted to buy--except for the authors' relatives (maybe). I hated my co-workers and the job so much, I left after six months, even though I didn't have another lined up.

4. My second job was at Newsday, our rapidly-growing local newspaper, but as a poorly paid clerk in their maintenance department. I loved my co-workers, but longed for a job in Editorial, of course, because that's where the WRITERS worked. I managed to finagle my way into the coveted department, but as a lowly clerk answering 10 incoming phone lines, dumping out/sorting two giant bags of mail every day, being at the beck and call of every single spoiled editor and reporter in the gigantic newsroom--it was HELL! When it became clear that I wasn't going to find myself in my dream job at Newsday anytime soon, I once again found myself job hunting, but by that time, I had another project to worry about--my wedding!--so I had to concentrate on all those details ahead of everything else.

(to be continued)

Love, Robin

I'm enjoying the new TV season. JERICHO, KIDNAPPED, MEN IN TREES, BROTHERS & SISTERS, HEROES, and JUSTICE are a few of my early faves so far. Frankly, I'm DVRing and taping shows as fast as I can, but finding the time to watch them all is tough. I still have housework to do, plus the gym, and they STILL expect me to show up for work every day, the SOB's, so when do I have time to watch my tapes and what's on my hard drive? I've had to sacrifice some of the new shows that sounded kind of iffy to me. If they survive without my watching them the first time around, perhaps I can catch them in reruns.

As for the old returnees, I weeped when The Winchester boys lost their father on SUPERNATURAL, even though I fully expected it. I watched DARK SHADOWS long enough to know when someone was a sure goner. Now the death of Melinda's partner on GHOST WHISPERER totally shocked me, but I knew she'd stick around in ghost form for at least one episode to be ushered into the light by the heroine--that's Melinda's job, after all. But those adorable Winchester boys are now orphans due to demon forces and I would like to volunteer to be their adoptive mother--with incest privileges thrown in. Did I say that out loud? Damn, I'm such a bad, horny old gal, but those two are toooo cute!

I do feel sorry for the actor who portrayed John Winchester on SUPERNATURAL and Denny Duquesne on GREY'S ANATOMY (another welcome returnee show, by the way)--he died on both shows and now has to look for work. Imagine, having juicy, sympathetic roles on two shows and losing both! That's gotta suck.

VERONICA MARS looks like another enjoyable season to look forward to, but if they keep Lorelei and Luke apart for the entire year on GILMORE GIRLS, I'm going to fart nails, I swear! They already had one (thankfully) brief breakup early in their relationship, and all the viewers want to see is the two of them marrying and procreating. Instead, they had Lane get pregnant! Not that it isn't a cute idea, but if they try to force a Chris/Lorelei pairing on us again, producers are going to find themselves picking very smelly nails from their foreheads, I promise!

I can't leave out how deliciously wicked NIP/TUCK still is. After only a couple of episodes, they've proven they're already more perverted than last year, topping themselves just when I thought it impossible! Imagine Melissa Gilbert, of little Laura Ingalls fame, portraying a woman who comes to their plastic surgery practice to have her nipple, which has been accidentally bitten off by her dog, repaired. She is later revealed as, literally, a dog-lover whose marine husband shoots her pet for being intimate with her--and dumps the bloody carcass on the examining table!

You'll never see THAT on DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES! Although I did enjoy the first episodes and wonder if Bree and her new husband deserve each other, since they do seem to be two of a kind. It's sad that Gabby and her husband have no baby, and now, not even each other after all they've been through. Susan should bang the Brit. He's cute and she's waited long enough for coma boy to wake up.

I do love TV! It gives me a chance to relax and wind down from my day, so when I hit the pillow, I'm ready to fall asleep. I usually watch a swatch of one of my DVR'd programs with my coffee in the morning before I go to work, then a little more when I get home. My dogs like to watch, too, flanking me on our comfy living room chair.

Everyone has their hobbies. One of my favorites is watching TV.

Love, Robin

That's what a friend of mine says a religious friend of hers claims is happening--the Bad Guy is taking over. How else to explain what occurred in Pennsylvania, in Amish Country, yesterday? A man takes a group of innocent young Amish girls hostage, shoots them, kills, as of this writing, five of them?

I learned about this horror when I took Brad out to lunch at Krisch's yesterday afternoon. Two TV sets hang from the ceiling there, both muted, but with words constantly crawling along the bottom and top of the screen instead. It zealously followed the goings-on, with aerial photos of the tragedy unfolding in the one-room schoolhouse.

The Amish, such simple, peaceful people--why them? I had a hard time swallowing my roast beef sandwich, even after I'd carefully pulled off all the fatty parts. I requested it very lean, but I guess even $6.50 doesn't buy you a fat-free sandwich in this day and age.

I guess the guy who did this had issues. Fuck him. We all do. Most of us, thank God, don't act on them in so heinous a manner. Believe me, there are times I get so angry at the asinine things people pull, especially on our roadways, we're all damn fortunate I don't carry a gun on my person, because there would be an awful lot of headless people out there. It takes a truly disturbed person to go to the limit, to gather together a bunch of innocent people and shoot them for no good reason except that your crazed mind urges you to do so. Most of us have a safety on our brains that doesn't allow us to go that far.

People like this nut case don't have that safety (duh). How scary is that? I would like to think that if I begged someone for my life, they would take pity on me and spare me. But there are folks out there who would laugh at my pleading and just kill me, without guilt or compunction, as if I were an ant they were stepping on. How? Because to them, human life is nothing, expendable. Quite simply, they're psychotic--and most terrifying of all, walk amongst us.

Which is why my husband hates it when I give the finger to people who cut me off on the road. He figures these people are lawless enough to stab or shoot me for having the balls to challenge them, while I, innocent lamb that I am, doubt they would dare go that far.

I see my husband's point. Very clearly.

Yesterday was Yom Kippur. While I walked my dogs in the morning, I thanked God for the gorgeous day, those I love and like, my job, my possessions, my health; I asked for forgiveness for any sins I may have committed in the previous year. I asked for world peace.

I'll tell you one thing--when I encouraged my son to become a teacher, I really never thought I'd worry about him being in danger in a classroom.

All WE had to worry about was crawling under our desks for air raid drills and H-bombs.

Have a great day.

Love, Robin