My Hometown

Definition of hometown: “the town where one was born or grew up, or the town of one’s present fixed residence.”

I’ve been away from home for 11 days on a road trip that spans a number of states. I am currently in my hometown, I think. See, I have lived in WI for 11 ½ years now in the same town. My husband says we can just round up, which I suppose is true since we don’t plan on moving before January. OK, with that let me start over. I’ve lived in one town in WI for 12 years. This is the longest I’ve lived in one town in my life. It’s also the town I consider to be home. I often wonder if this is because of the stage of life I am in. I am involved in the community, which makes it easier for me to feel a part of the community rather than apart from it. My kids were both born here and it’s their hometown so maybe that also has something to do with it.

** Tangent ** about the towns I’ve lived in, in my life. Born in New York. A few months shy of my 2^nd birthday I moved to CT. Ten years later I moved one town away, but it felt more like a different state. Nearly six years later I moved to Alabama for college. I spent one summer back in CT, but I always think back on my six years in AL and begin counting from my first year of college. By the time my high school graduation came around I had already mentally checked out of CT. After AL, came WI. 

So, here I am back in CT. A state that feels foreign to me.

I had a bizarre experience the other day when I took my family to Mystic Aquarium. I know I’ve been there before, in fact I recall being there with my husband and son 5 or 6 years ago…I think. Even with that aside I went with my mom years ago (code for I have no idea how far back). Nothing about the drive, the entrance to the aquarium or the aquarium itself looked familiar. For all I know I was at an aquarium in Rhode Island the other day. The entire visit I was consumed with the thought that I was in a sci-fi movie where my memory was erased and replaced with a microchip that was wearing off. I enjoyed watching my kids have fun and enjoyed moments, but the bizarreness of the whole thing was reignited in every area of the aquarium.

Growing up in CT meant traveling to NY to visit family and as I got older, to go out dancing. In NY you only had to be 18 to get into clubs, in CT the age was 21. I have few memories of “exploring” CT as a kid. There are, however, two things that ignite “hometown” feelings. One is something I’ve mentioned before; food! The other came to me while driving across New York State a few days ago. I love the rocks. I see them as slate, which reminds me of the foyer in my first CT house. It’s hard, dark, granite type rock crumbles WI limestone in an instant.

I am long past driving by the houses I grew up in; the truth is I was long past that within two years of moving away. I have no desire to take my kids on a tour of where I went to school. I did drive by my junior high school that is now a middle school, but it wasn’t out of nostalgia, it was just the most direct back road route from Carvel. It really does all come back to food when I’m here.

But I will gain 5 pounds in a week and I have been collecting rocks to bring back (I’m driving after all) from my Dad’s property aka “woods”. I do enjoy the windy, hilly, woods-lined streets of CT. I enjoy them so much it bothers me a little that my husband and kids all get carsick while riding on them.

For me, my hometown is “the town of one’s present fixed residence” or is it? I’ll be back in my hometown in another week and when someone new asks me where I’m from I’ll say, “CT” and then I’ll think about the food and the slate, rather than places and things.  Yet, whenever I visit CT it’s never long enough.

Where’s your hometown and what comes to mind when you think about it?

Hi, my name is DARIA aka Dare-ia, Dar-ia, Dahr-ia

Daria as in I dare you to remember my name.

Dar-ia as in rhymes with car (ia) and is the most common mispronunciation of my name.

Dahr-ia as in say it with a New York accent and you are pronouncing it the way my mother intended.

If you’ve met me in this lifetime I introduced myself to you as Dare-ia, but depending upon who you are and where you live you may have heard Dar-ia or Dahr-ia. If you’re reading this and thinking, “Oh no! I have said her name wrong since I met her, don’t worry you’re not alone.” My own mom said that I say my name wrong. WHAT?!

Yep that’s right, I say my name wrong.

My mother grew up in The Bronx and my dad in Mt. Vernon. I also was born in New York. When we moved to Connecticut when I was two my parents brought with them their New York accents, I however barely spoke, therefore didn’t have an accent to carry with me across state lines.

After living in the South and the Midwest my family-of-origin is truly the only ones who pronounce my name correctly. On the occasion that I meet someone from the boroughs they, too, make my mom proud. I have to admit it does make me smile to hear it pronounced as my mom intended, but please don’t ask me to say the three ways over and over, because if you are not from that area your ears will likely not hear a difference.

Then there are those who just call me “D”. There are only a select few people who can get away with this. If you happen to be one of them, you already know you are in an elite group. My mother was appalled the first time she heard someone call me D; saying that if someone didn’t take the time to learn my name they were being disrespectful.

I do not like being called Dar-ia, but after a lifetime of pronouncing and spelling my name for others I have learned to choose whom I correct. For one thing, if I don’t think our paths will cross again I likely will just let it go. If I’ve corrected you more times than I care to remember than I likely will give up on you and hear my mother’s words in my head.

Talk to you later,

Dare-ia

p.s. I am now old enough where I have loved my name for more years than I haven’t.

Things That Make Me Smile (in no particular order)

1. Hearing a song that fits my mood; even if I’m feeling mad.

2. The feeling I get AFTER I run.

3. Holding a baby.

4. Making people laugh.

5. Running into someone unexpectedly.

6. Meeting new people and hearing their “stories”.

7. Volunteering with and for kids.

8. When a kid I know, any kid, sees me and says hi to me first. I get the “they like me, they really like me feeling.”

9. Laughing so hard I cry…the smile stays longer than the laugh.

10. Karma.

11. My husband and kids.

12. Good manners.

13. Small world stories.

14. Massages.

15. Using things that used to be my mom’s or grandmother’s.

16. Hearing my kids say something that I know my mom would love to hear.

For now this is all I’ve got, but I am grateful that there are so many more.

What are YOUR Strengths?

When I first began blogging I received great support from a few particular friends (Donna and Caryn). They both encouraged me to use my blog to reach out to teenagers. Kids and adolescents truly are my heart, but the blog quickly developed into an outlet for my thoughts. This morning as I was showering the idea for this posting invaded my mind. Most of my good ideas are born with the warm water falling on my head. This time my thoughts focused on helping others, not just getting my thoughts out of my head.

I am writing this post with my teenage and young adult friends in mind, as well as for those who feel as lost as a teenager.

Most of my postings are about me, but this one is all about YOU!

What are YOUR strengths?

It’s a good question to have an answer to; for one thing it’s a classic job interview question. With all that aside though, the answer can also get you through your darkest hours, when you are more apt to focus and dwell on your weaknesses. And for the record we ALL have weaknesses. The only difference between strengths and weaknesses is the way you look at them. It’s all in your perspective.

My challenge to you is to come up with your strengths, start with one and work your way up from there.

If you find yourself focusing on your weaknesses email me (darialeith@aol.com) so I can offer you a different perspective.

For the record, I wasn’t always a confident, successful, overachiever. I have grown into this woman. Nor do I always feel as if I am.

And know that if you are not the person you dream of being it is not too late and as life offers you more experiences you will evolve into your vision.

Livin’ the Life

Embracing the moments in life when all feels right. So often I think about what’s on my (sometimes hypothetical) to do list or what I should be doing during these moments.

Late this past spring I was enjoying a rare moment laying in my hammock. Instead of thinking about what I had to do I realized I was fully and completed immersed in the moment. So much so to anyone nearby it would have looked like I had been there for hours, or at the very least 30 minutes rather than the actual five.

So, when my daughter and I sat on the same hammock weeks later thoroughly enjoying the first sugar snap peas of the season I shared with her my new phrase and said, “We’re livin’ the life.” I love that she, too, has now embraced the phrase, sometimes saying it at times when I need to hear it the most.

So I hope you, too, can enjoy some “livin’ the life” moments this summer, fall, winter and spring.

Las Vegas in a Nutshell

As you know I recently spent 3 days in Las Vegas for my sister-cousin’s wedding. I covered my mom hat with my matron of honor hat, but it was never far from me.

I saw The Strip (as well as THE hotel) and Downtown and let me tell you, no matter how much the Dept. of Tourism or the Chamber of Commerce tries to convince me it’s a family friendly vacation destination I was far from booking tickets for my kids to meet me.

Here is a brief overview of some of my random thoughts about the City of Neon, or is it Sin City?

Observations and Thoughts

There’s a lot of water in the desert (fountains everywhere, including the parking garages!)

I was cold nearly the entire trip. The casinos/hotels/resorts are so big I could barely find my way outside of the frigid air conditioning. Whenever I put on my hooded Alabama sweatshirt I kept thinking about the preview for the new show Whitney where he says to her, “You’re wearing a hoodie to a wedding!?” I did leave the sweatshirt behind for the wedding, but it did get me a great 2:00 am Roll Tide in THE hotel lobby!

Straw Bama Daiquiri

Casinos are only fun when you understand how you’re losing your money. The penny slots took my dollar so fast I felt like I was slapped in the face.

I witnessed those breasts getting a lot of action. 

The phrase, “Only in Vegas” was fully understood.

There are no traditional panhandlers in Vegas, they all find some random, often scary costume to hide in while collecting “tips” for photos.

A panhandler in Downtown Las Vegas. I couldn't help but picture it running after someone and beating them up with whatever things were in its bag along with the peacock feather.

Taxi drivers in Vegas are friendly and mostly not from Vegas. The one that was told me the only job she hasn’t held yet is as a hooker.

Things overheard in Vegas

“That’s not my underwear, I don’t even wear underwear.”

“She’s a paralegal by day and a stripper by night.”

“You know the front row is the topless section, right?”

“Now it’s time to cut my t-shirt off.”

Until more come to mind, remember that what happens in Vegas doesn’t really stay in Vegas, it stays on the internet forever.

A Night at the Airport

I once, or twice, wondered what it would be like to spend the night at an airport. Would I wander the concourses, read everything in the airport there’s never time to read as I am usually rushing to the next gate or would I sit at the window and watch the sky go by?

It turns out all I would do is try to sleep.

Author’s Note: This posting is not about which airline I was traveling.

My day started in Las Vegas after a night of celebrating at my sister-cousin’s wedding followed by very little sleep. If you are reading this and thinking you need a specific amount of time all I can say is that it was no more than 2 hours, and not necessarily in a row. But hey, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. It turns out I should have stayed in Vegas for another day.

After my 8:10 pm flight out of Chicago was delayed a few times it was canceled around 11:15 pm. A few minutes went by before I was told the good news/bad news. Good news was my flight was no longer canceled, just delayed – bad news was that it was delayed until 7:45 am! The American airline I was flying offered to put us all up at a hotel and gave us a $5 meal voucher. We were to be back at the airport at 6:30 am. Now here’s when I calculated just how much sleep I did not get the night before, ah hell I was calculating the lack of sleep I had gotten in the past THREE nights in Vegas.

The next thing I did surprised me a bit. I asked the American working at the Airline counter how far away the hotel was. The answer combined with my exhaustion formed the following sentence, “Is it okay if some of us just sleep here at the gate?” She said, yes and I went back to curling up on my two-chair bed with my blanket – I actually had a blanket in my carry-on, no pillow, but a blanket.

So for the next 6 hours gate L2B at O’Hare was my hotel. There were three other passengers who shared my decision, we spoke very little last night, we were all just comforted that we were not alone. I know I was.

I did not leave the chair all night. I am not Tom Hanks from The Terminal.

So here is what I learned last night as I “slept” at the airport.

I learned that to prevent getting sick from germs I should cover my mouth when I cough or sneeze and should wash my hands after coughing and sneezing. I learned that there is no smoking in the terminal and in order to smoke a smoker must stand 50 feet away from the terminal. I learned that between midnight and 5 am the only people allowed in the airport are ticketed passengers and employees. All of these things I learned from the recurring messages that played all night.

I learned that they DO vacuum the airport at night, even if there is someone sleeping. The cleaning people are not intimidated at all by sleeping passengers (or most likely employees since we’re the only ones allowed inside), they WILL vacuum by your head and make a lot of noise picking up garbage under your seat (and no it was not my garbage).

I learned the airport (or at least Gate L2B) is only quiet enough to sleep between 3:00-4:00 am.

I also learned that packing three books was the smartest thing I could have done, although a pillow in my carry-on would have been nice to. The softest thing I had in my not soft bag was two of these hardcover books…and believe me I did consider using them.

At about 6:30 am my decision to pass up the hotel room was confirmed. It seems that because the boarding passes had yesterday’s date on them (remember the flight was delayed, not canceled) that security would not let passengers through security until they received the post-it memo.

I do not place blame on the airline, I’d rather be delayed overnight and arrive alive than have flown through the storm that filled front yards by the airport with downed trees and tree limbs.

This photo was taken HOURS before my arrival at Gate L2B.

           

After working a high school football game last fall I stopped wondering what it would be like to be in a high school after the teachers and students were gone.