September 17, 2003

Couldn’t blog during lunch either yesterday — folks here the whole time, and I think I had 10 minutes tops to swallow my food before I was being barraged w/questions. We met with our Financial Advisor at 2:30. He spoke of W2s and W4s, but when I asked him if there was a W3, he laughed and had no idea. Apparently, he said, I’m the first person in 15 years who has asked him that question.

Quiet AC-free night. Max (the Yorkshire Terror — credit to David for that) and I sacked out on the soul-sucking nap chair and slipped into and out of slumber all night.

I think my ear infection’s coming back. Ear hurts when I swallow. Must call the doc.

Congratulations to Clark, who is now an Assistant Managing Editor. Clark, as you’ll remember, did his self portrait in blood. He’s now in charge of all artwork in the paper. Chew on that. :)

Mood: Happy
Weight: was 144 yesterday. Will weigh again on Friday.
Work docket: Doing online mall now, update hurricane page, hand page from yesterday, and figure out how to move recipes into a better database.
Lunch: Saladworks
Afternoon: Unknown — may have Dr. Appointment. If not, going to update LGN to get rid of gloomy 9/11 atmosphere.
Evening: Yoga at 7:30.
Non-blog-able worries: Results back tomorrow. I’m certain things will come back ok, and we’ll be able to put these worries to bed for good. Cryptic, aren’t I? 😉

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September 16, 2003 – morning


Took yesterday off to deal with the non-blog-able worries. And being that there is a gentleman from Gannett corporate sitting behind me, let’s postpone the morning blog until lunchtime, shall we?

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September 12, 2003 – morning


Yesterday’s blog may seem a bit maudlin, but there are some days when what I’m eating for lunch just isn’t important.

John Ritter passed away last night due to a heart problem. What a shame…he was just climbing back on top with the 8 simple rules..” show. Besides Jack Tripper, I’ll always remember him as being the nicest of all of the pompous stars we saw at the ABC Primetime Preview next year.

And as a sign of the change in seasons, the vanilla milk is back in our vending machine. It’s vanilla in fall/winter, strawberry in spring/summer.

Mood: Pleasant.
Work docket: Waiting for some ads to convert for hot properties. Trying Damon’s way to do it — should save time. I have some more ad stuff to do.
Lunch: Smart Ones Chicken Enchildada — which is sitting on my kitchen counter. D’oh! I guess I’ll be running to Subway
Afternoon: Take Max for afternoon walk.
Weekend: Going to the Academy of Music tomorrow with Mom, Mom’s friend Marlene, and her son to see Starlight Express. I’ve never been to the Academy of Music, so I’m pretty excited. We have a 4-show package there. The other 3 shows are Urinetown (what a pisser…ha!), Oliver, and Les Miserables. Tomorrow night may go out w/the girls to celebrate my bday. If it doesn’t happen tomorrow night, it’ll be next Friday night.

(checks ads…not converted yet…d’oh!)

And now…the Friday Five!

1. Is the name you have now the same name that’s on your birth certificate? If not, what’s changed?
No, it’s not. I got married and changed my last name thusly.

2. If you could change your name (first, middle and/or last), what would it be?
I never liked the spelling of Ann without an ‘e’ at the end. “Ann” reminds me of “Raggedy Ann.” “Anne” is royal. I do have a faux pornstar/stripper name though. If I were a porn star, I’d like to be named “Cassandra Beach — aka “Sandy Beach.” 😛

3. Why were you named what you were? (Is there a story behind it? Who specifically was responsible for naming you?)
I was named after the legendary actress Kim Novak. When I first saw her, she looked old and I was a bit perplexed…ok…horrifed. Then I realized she used to look like this, and this, and this, and I felt a lot better.

4. Are there any names you really hate or love? What are they and why?
I feel badly for the kids whose parents purposefully give them wacky names or incredibly common names that they spell differently so that the kid will be unique. (C’mon, Caytelynn?) I am totally in love with the name Virginia, though I can’t in my heart, saddle a girl with that name. So I’m stuck on Audrey for now.

5. Is the analysis of your name at accurate? How or how isn’t it?
Here’s what they say about my name. (Creepy, culty-site if you ask me). I’m in agreement with all but my inability to relax — frequent blog readers know how lazy I can be. :)

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September 11, 2011

The sun was shining through the orange treetops that September Sunday morning as Audrey and I prepared Max for his daily walk.

Audrey was six (but almost seven, as she reminded us all) with brown hair, brown eyes, and a winning smile that was missing a tooth in front. We zipped up our hooded sweatshirts and headed out into the crisp air.

She could usually fill the entire walk with her prattling on about this whimsy and that, but today she was quieter. “Mama?”

“Yes Love?” I replied, bracing myself for what I knew was coming.

“Where were you when the planes hit the buildings?”

She looked at me with a serious face that a six-year-old (but almost seven) should never be allowed to have. I sighed, for I had tried my best to keep her away from the news for the past few days and apparently failed.

“Well, Audrey, I was at work at the newspaper, far away from New York and Washington.” I lied. Two hours away from either location wasn’t far enough that day, and although 10 years have passed, it still seems like yesterday.

“How did you know?” she continued.

“Like a lot of people, I heard it on the radio and then saw it on television. I watched it with a lot of people from work. We were all very sad.”

Max snuffled and did his business by a tree. Audrey slipped her hand into mine. I thought we were through.

“Were you scared?”

I wanted to tell her I was terrified. I wanted to tell her that I thought the world was going to end. I remembered the sounds of everybody at work calling their loved ones. I remembered the stress headaches I had for weeks afterward. Instead, I took another slow breath.

“I think we all were. The pictures of the buildings being on fire and falling down on television were scary. Have you seen them?”

She nodded solemnly and I hugged her.

“Damned television,” I thought to myself. “Running those pictures over and over…they had to be promoting a 9/11 special during her cartoon time.”

Max tugged us out of the hug, and we continued around the corner. Cowed by the silence, I felt the need to continue but was interrupted.

“What did you do?”

“We knew what we had to do…we had to stay at work to make sure that we could get as much news out to our readers as possible.”

Another half-truth. Very few people wanted to stay at work that day. The Circulation and Marketing departments saw the tragic events as a revenue-building opportuntity, and rushed to put out an afternoon edition about the horrors. Reporters started to track down the victims’ familes for what would lead to a lifetime of probing questions and interview requests. Non-essential workers were sent to street corners in our circ area to hawk the extra editions. And I fought back tears as Damon and I pushed news and photos live over the website for hours without a break.

Ten years later and I still remember the dead calm of the skies as every flight was grounded for two days. I still remember watching the planes when they did begin to fly again. Was that one flying erratically? Was it flying too low? I remember the days when you could meet your loved ones at the airplane gate. I remember being able to enter Disney’s Magic Kingdom without having your bags searched.

Audrey will never know those lost freedoms, as small as they may seem.

Most of all I remember the majesty of the World Trade Center. Two utilitarian buildings, simple in their rectangular design, piercing the eastern NYC skyline. Now replaced by an artsy-fartsy memorial complex. I remember when David and I used to stay across the street from the towers. I used to scoot over to the Krispy Kreme at 5 World Trade Center in the mornings to watch the donuts come off of the conveyor belt. On one NYC trip, I lay on my back on the concrete plaza between the towers to take their photos. The tops were shrouded in fog. I deleted the picture from my digital camera, knowing I’d get a better shot another day. That day never came.

But it’s 10 years past. And Audrey is here, looking up at me, sensing that I’m deep in thought. Small child with big worries. I smiled down at her to ease her mind. “What’s most important, Audrey, is that we remember that although many people were hurt and died that sad day, our country spent a lot of money and time to make sure our planes wouldn’t be stolen again by people who want to hurt others. ” She smiled back at me, reassured by my “honesty.”

Our house is now in sight, and Audrey and Max race for the door. This day, two young legs defeat four old ones. Her giggles cut through the crisp air, followed quickly by the sound of the door slamming behind her.

One year. Five years. Ten years. Time flies, but the horror of that day will never fade.

Naturally, some of the above is fictional and all of it was written in advance

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