12.21.13 at 9:03 am |
12.19.13 at 2:57 am | My son has a free schlepping service.
12.12.13 at 8:05 am | Well played my son. Well played.
12.11.13 at 6:58 am | I watch in awe and stare with envy at these. . .
12.5.13 at 3:16 pm | Heaven has received a blessing today.
12.3.13 at 3:05 pm | Every time I go into the kitchen I half expect to. . .
9.15.13 at 3:14 pm | I love you Russell Brand. (371)
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November 9, 2012 | 9:10 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
I am complicated. Not difficult, just complicated. I have a vision for my life that has not changed since I was a little girl. I always wanted to be a mom. I am. I always wanted to move to Los Angeles. I did. I always wanted to work in Hollywood. I do. I always wanted to meet the man of dreams. I have.
I have met a wonderful man who has shown me a kindness unlike any other man I have ever known. He understands that I am complicated and when that crosses over into being difficult, he rolls with it. By crosses over of course I mean it hardly ever happens. Like hardly ever. Never really.
I am part of an us for the first time in a very long time, and I am scared. Our relationship is very, very good, and that freaks me out. I have been so disappointed in the past, that the stupid girl part of my heart is waiting for it to be over. Luckily, the wise girl part of my heart is stronger.
I could not sleep last night and sat up for hours thinking about things that should not be thought about for more than a second, and certainly not in the middle of the night. I thought about them. Them being the men who I have had relationships with in the past. Not comparing, just thinking.
My Englishman is unlike any man I have dated before. I thought that was a bad thing because I was certain he was not my type. I realize now that because he is unlike them, he is actually exactly my type. He makes me laugh, brings me joy, loves my son, and makes me feel safe.
It is Shabbat. I am going to turn off my fears, go to temple, pray, and bring in Shabbat with gratitude. My dreams have come true and rather than question why, I need to thank God for my good fortune. His hand is firmly placed on my shoulder, and he has led me here.
To my Englishman, I love you. Shabbat will mark eight months that we have known each other. On our first date you put your hand on the small of my back and guided me out of the restaurant. It was a small gesture, but I saw true romance in it, and so it got you a second date.
Thank you for appreciating and understanding I am complicated and not difficult. Thank you for laughing when I label myself as complicated, rather than difficult. Thank you for holding my hand, reminding me that after dark comes light, and that dreams come true when keeping the faith.
Heart beats fast
Colors and promises
How to be brave
How can I love when I'm afraid to fall
But watching you stand alone
All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow
One step closer
- Christina Perri
November 6, 2012 | 8:25 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
November 4, 2012 | 11:03 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
I met my friend Michael 20 years ago when we worked at the same company. I was immediately drawn to him and his kindness. He is one of those people who exude warmth. We worked together for about four years, and eventually over time lost touch with each other.
We recently reconnected through the power of Facebook, which has been wonderful. Michael is a talented and lovely man, and he has a wonderful partner, Andre, who brings him such joy that I often get a cavity simply reading about their love for each other. They are perfect.
Michael writes about things he is grateful for and posts them on Facebook. Sometimes I laugh, others bring a tear, and all leave me in awe of a man that I knew for a short time, a long time ago, and am happy to have found again. Michael’s latest post needs to be shared.
I come across fascinating people quite often. I write about my adventures through other people's lives, and get a lot of emails from people asking me how it is I always find myself in the middle of such interesting stories. It's quite simple really, and everyone can do it.
We must be aware that lives other than our own are being led, and if we stop focusing on ourselves, we are able to see theirs. I feel closest to God when I am able to see other's stories, and Michael is blessed to have the gift of seeing the lives around him.
If I can let go of my own view, to see what others see, I am able to witness lives that are beautiful. They may not be like mine, and I often dont understand, but I always come away having learned something. Michael’s story today is a blessing amd I am happy to share it.
Days of Gratitude - November 4, 2012
The last time I was in Washington DC I met a guy on the subway. The year was 2000. His name was Jackson Leinowens. I was checking out his friend Bob.... Jackson was checking me out. We all laughed when our eyes met. I was on my way to see the Korean War Memorial at night, we briefly chatted and they told me how to get there. As I exited the train, Jackson handed me his number. That was the only time I saw him in person, but for the next two years we wrote and called each other quite often.
What I learned was that he lived in Washington DC and taught at a private school. He was a big romantic, had an incredible wit, loved that he was a 'hero' to his 20 kids and loved the look on their faces when they 'got it', drank Cape Cods and Rose Kennedys, ordered Carpaccio whenever it was on the menu, loved the History channel, worshiped Wonder Woman & Linda Carter, ate Butter Pecan ice cream right from the container, loved show tunes, "Yentl", sign language and beauty pageants.
I also learned his twin brother had died of leukemia when they were 16, he himself had battled leukemia for ten years. And I learned he hadn't spoken to his parents (both officers in the USMC) for six years, because they disowned him, because he was gay.
On April 29, 2002, I received a phone call from a friend of his. "Hi, my name is Eric and I needed to call and let you know that Jackson lost his battle with Leukemia and died." The week prior, Jackson had given his friend a list of things to do, and on the list was to call "Michael from the subway." Jackson was surrounded by a few close friends when he passed. I asked about his parents. His parents had refused to come to his deathbed, as far as they were concerned, he was already dead to them.
This man, whom I only met for ten minutes on a train, but knew better than some of my own friends, had died without a family, his biological family. What he did have was the family that he made for himself. A family of friends. So often gay men and women must create new families for themselves to replace the ones who have left. I am so moved and saddened by this fact. It saddens me to know that there are parents out there that would disown their own children because their child was gay. I am extremely grateful that that is not the case in my life.
This evening, I met the rest of André's family and was greeted with warmth as if I had known them for years. Mom, two siblings, a sister-in-law, and nine nieces and nephews. We had a wonderful evening.
I have been so blessed in my own life to have a beautiful family that love and support me for who I am. My loving parents, my siblings: Midge, Sue, Eric, Jody, and their spouses: Scott, Tony, Lisa, and Casey. Also my amazing nieces and nephews...all twelve (soon to be thirteen) of them. I never take this blessing for granted.
Today, I am grateful for family and all their kinds, shapes and sizes. I am thankful for my own family and the love, care, faith, support and acceptance they show me. I am grateful for my parents, siblings, in-laws and every single one of their kids who have brightened my life and warmed my heart with pure love.
I am grateful for André's family and the warmth they showed to us tonight.
And I am grateful that I met a guy named Jackson Leinowens on a subway some twelve years ago, and that he touched my heart, and my life. He is remembered.
I am keeping Jackson and the family he built in my prayers. Life is precious and if we are able to look beyond the one we are living, we are truly blessed. Be kind to a stranger because one day you might be their family. I love you Michael. Your vision inspires me to keep the faith.
November 1, 2012 | 3:47 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
I dream a lot about George Clooney. It’s not always the actual Clooney in my dreams, but most of the men I dream about have Clooney’s face. Any man who appears in my dreams, bus driver, teacher, fisherman, or pilot, looks like George Clooney. I take comfort in knowing I will meet up with George in my dreams. He is always there, always fabulous, and always mine.
In my dreams George and I have gotten married, been on Dancing With The Stars, had a baby, been to the Oscars®, and simply cooked dinner together. Our love affair has been going on in my mind for years. If I were ever to come across George in real life, I would simply walk on past and ignore him. He is perfect in my dreams and I don’t want to change that. Better I keep him perfect.
By walk on past, of course I mean I would latch onto him and have to be removed by authorities. I like to think I’d be cool and not care, but come on. I love him and he is my dream man. Literally. The other day I had a very restless sleep. George did not show and I was up several times during the night. I was unable to get comfortable, so I gave up.
I slinked out of the bedroom as the Englishman slept. By slept of course I mean out like a light. This man sleeps deep. He could, and has, slept through earthquakes. I went to make a cup of tea as I cursed George for not showing up. I wondered around the house for a bit, hung out with the cat, emptied the dishwasher, and went back to bed.
As I walked into the room, at the risk of sounding like a romance novel, the moonlight was streaming across my bed and hit the Englishman across the face. I had to stop for a minute because I saw something rather interesting. There in my bed, oblivious to my inability to sleep, was Daniel Craig. Forget about Clooney, I had Bond. James Bond, in my bed.
It turns out my Englishman looks a bit like Daniel Craig. From piercing blue eyes, to the rugged face, along with the English accent thrown in for good measure, I have my own Bond at home. I have always felt my Englishman is wonderful, and felt no issue with spending my slumber with George. That said, I think my nights with George have come to an end.
I am going to spend my time in bed with Mr. Bond. In fact, this newfound discover provides me with a whole new list of fantasies that can actually come true. In a few weeks I will be jetting to London with my Englishman, and I think there will be a lot of James Bond action happening. The possibilities are endless, and they are sexy as hell.
I am going to write down my dreams with Bond, so my fantasies can come true with my Englishman. Why should I dream about Clooney, when Daniel Craig is in my bed? What a lucky girl I am that my fantasy and my reality look the same. If you love Clooney, his evenings are now free, so enjoy. When it comes to sweet dreams, I am keeping the faith.