Stew Leonard's

Kate and I enjoy going to the supermarket. We went to one of the best in the tri-state area today (Stew Leonard's) and I decided to bring the camera along.

(Juices)

(Honey Teddy Bears)

(Green Beans)

(Scale)

(Asparagi)

(Clover the Cow)

(Mangoes)

(Naked Chicken)

(Fake Plastic Tuna)

(Check-out)

(My Darling Clementine)

And so this is Christmas...

I love Christmas. Everything about the season makes me happy; the lights and songs, the family gatherings and even going to church throughout Advent and on Christmas Day. I still enjoy it today, but nothing compares to Christmas when you're a kid.

The excitement would start after Thanksgiving and come in waves for most of the next month. I tried to not get too excited, knowing that the "big day" was two or three weeks away but once we got within a week I was ready to go. Christmas Eve always seemed to be the longest day in the world (with the day you get the phone call from Chaminade informing you that you have to go to summer school a close second) which would plod along until it was time for mass. I always thought of mass as the last hurdle that separated me from the full joy of Christmas morning. "If I just get through this...." I would wonder to myself while driving to the church. Mass would come and go, dinner with the family followed and soon it was time for bed.

4:13.

A quick peek at the clock would lead to disappointment as it was much too early to bother the sleeping parents. I remember laying in bed, falling in and out of sleep just waiting for when the time was right.

If I close my eyes, I can still see the view from the top of the stairs into my living room, barely being able to see the presents underneath the tree. This was always a time of nervous energy as I waited for my parents to deem it late enough for the big trip downstairs. Sometimes it was just a peek, then maybe creep down a few stairs to get a better look; on really exciting mornings I might go all the way to the bottom of the stairs, convincing myself that it was alright as long as I didn't go into the living room. After finally coercing the parents out of bed, my father would do the unthinkable.....make us wait longer so he could set up his video camera for the big "kids walking down the stairs on Christmas morning" shot. During this time my sisters and I would conference about what was waiting for us downstairs. We would then line up (in height/age order) and walk down the stairs. Going back and watching these home videos now always crack us up because the ones from the early 80's feature squinting childrens that are blinded my the 5,000 watt lightbulb that was used the light the scene. Eventually we would make it down the stairs (half-blind) and begin the fun.

The joy of opening the presents would lead to the hours of playing with the new toys while waiting for company to come over. Some cousins would come for dinner, even more would come for dessert. When we were young we would compare presents, when we were older we would drink beers. My cousin Jimmy always had a party back at his house. What started as an excuse to drink with his friends when his parents were at my house would turn into a lasting Christmas tradition that at times seemed to have hundreds of people there. It was just another part of the great day. Sadly this party ended a few years ago once we started getting older although I bet Jimmy could pull it off again.

Christmas obviously changes as you get older. In high school you still get excited but don't let anyone know about it then in college (and beyond) you just want to sleep late. For Christmas 2009 I found myself in the second to last phase....marriage.** My wife and I just finished our first Christmas together and although it wasn't always easy, it was great. We decided long ago that we would split the holiday in two....Christmas Eve with my family and Christmas Day with hers. We each missed our traditions but we once again learned the life lesson that just because it's different, it doesn't necessarily mean that it's bad. We had a great time celebrating with our families and closed out the weekend with a quiet night at home watching the Islanders beat the Rangers which always makes everything better. Now it's time for sleep which will be easy after a weekend full of Christmas memories of the past and present. For the last time until next year, Merry Christmas.

**If you were wondering what the last stage of Christmas is, it would be having children which kinda resets the whole thing since you get the share the excitement with the kid.

Soccer? You really watch soccer?

The title of this blog is the question that is usually asked when I tell people that I watch soccer. The World Cup is one of my all time favorite sporting events and over the past few years I have started following the British Premier League. Watching the Premier League on Fox Soccer Channel every Saturday/Sunday morning has become a favorite weekend activity. What has happened so far this year?

Two of the "Big Four" have found their usual success. Chelsea has clearly established itself as the top team in the league with Manchester United a close second. Arsenal have dealt with injuries and Liverpool have just been a disaster both in the league and in Europe. Assuming that United and Chelsea will remain 1/2 and as Liverpool's miserable season continues (as it did today with a loss to bottom dwellers Portsmouth) it is becoming more and more apparent that 3rd and 4th place in the league-and the Champions League qualification that comes with it-is wide open. A quick glance at the table shows only 6 points separate 3rd through 6th place. Who's in contention?

Manchester City now sits in 6th with 31 points (but could easily have 34 or 35 but for a Premier League Record 7 straight draws.) Arsenal sit in 5th but are coming off a win last weekend over Liverpool at Anfield. Tottenham has come down from a great start to settle in at 4th with 33 points. Aston Villa now sit at 3rd after a week that included their first win at Old Trafford in over 25 years. United lost again today (this time to Fulham) so Chelsea will have a chance to extend their lead to 6 points tomorrow.

All of the action on the field and the upcoming January transfer window should make for a good second half to the season.

TV and Sports

Been a while but I'm back on the blog. I realize that I have to write a lot more and I plan to.....starting now

I'm currently watching the Islanders/Rangers game on MSG+2. For those who don't know, this is the secondary sports channel in New York that is only used when all three local hockey teams are playing on the same night. I HATE this channel. I don't have cataracts, but watching MSG+2 (as opposed to just plain MSG+) is what I imagine having cataracts is like. Everything is blurry and it actually hurts my eyes. This is a legit complaint coming from a man that only 4 months ago was watching everything on the 16 inch TV/VCR combo that his sister got him for his freshman year in college......11 years ago.

So why do I continue to hurt my already strained eyes? Well one of the great parts of following sports is the home broadcasting team. Those who don't watch sports probably can't appreciate just how important a good broadcast team can be. For example, the Mets SNY team is FANTASTIC. Nice play by play, insightful analysis and even a laugh or two. Compare that with the obnoxious "JORGE JUICED ONE!" commentary of John Sterling and you see (or hear) the difference. This brings us to tonight. Billy Jaffe and Howie Rose are terrific companions for the game. Just like Gary, Keith and Ron, Jaffe and Rose make you feel like you're watching the game with them, not just being talked at. They're so good that I would rather strain my eyes than hear the homer dreck that comes out of Sam Rosen. This whole topic drives home the point that sports are more than just men with sticks and/or balls, running/skating around for two hours. Appreciating the work of the broadcasters is just another part of the overall experience that makes me love sports.

Back to the game and my straining eyes. Let's go Islanders.

Thank You

Over the course of my life, I've been lucky enough to do some pretty amazing things. In 2006 and again in 2007 I had the opportunity to visit Walter Reed Medical Center, Bethesda Naval Hospital and Camp LeJeune to visit with wounded soldiers recently returned from the front lines. On this Veterans Day, I wanted to take a moment to write about these experiences and what our soldiers mean to me.

My involvement in the Stewart Manor Fire Department (SMFD) has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. Through this work, I not only get to serve the community in which I grew up but I also get to meet and work with some amazing people. One of these men is Bill, an ex-Marine who initiated a great cause to our village. As an ex-Marine, Bill became involved with Wounded Warrior, a project that helps our returning, wounded soldiers adjust back to civilian life. Many of these soldiers are rehabilitating their injuries and need everything from basic items such as toiletries and t-shirts to entertainment items such as books and DVD's for their stays in the hospital. Starting in 2005, Bill and a few members of the SMFD made a trip down to Bethesda Naval Hospital outside D.C. to deliver items for these soldiers. The following year, the trip expanded to include the Wounded Warrior Barracks in Camp LeJeune and Fort Bragg, North Carolina as well as trucks full of goods donated by the people of our communities. With each year that has passed, the project has grown bigger and bigger. This December, the fireman of Nassau County, including 2 dozen departments and cargo trucks filled with goods will be making their trip south to thank our troops in person. These trips will continue until as Bill puts it, "all soldiers have returned from overseas," a true testament of the commitment to this cause.

I made my first trip in 2006 where, along with fellow fireman, I visited with and dropped off goods for soldiers at Walter Reed Medical Center and Bethesda Naval Hospital. The following year, I made the weekend trip down to Camp LeJeune to visit the Marines. These two trips were both eye-opening and extremely inspirational. On these visits, we meet with soliders in various stages of rehabilitation from injuries suffered in Iraq and Afghanistan. Some were badly burned; some were missing limbs; some were even blind. However, ALL of them were in good spirits. Amazingly enough, they were thanking US for coming to visit THEM. The courage that these young men showed in the battlefield was nearly exceeded by the courage and positive attitude they were now showing during these difficult times in their lives. On our trip to North Carolina, we made a separate stop at the home of Sergeant Eric. Sergeant Eric was injured in Iraq and due to complications from operations, can no longer walk or talk. Additionally, Sgt. Eric was recently married and has a young daughter. Upon hearing of his situtation, his community rallied together to raise enough money to build him and his family a new house that fully meets all of his medical needs. Visiting him in the house that his community built for him helped me to fully understand what makes this country the amazing place that it is.

I was recently watching "Section 60" an HBO Documentary (ironically enough made by someone who grew up in Garden City, just one town over) on the section of Arlington National Cemetary reserved for soliders killed in Iraq or Afghanistan. Each headstone they showed revealed a soldier who was 20, 21, 24, 25 years old. I think of the impact that these great young men would have made on the world if they had not died in battle. However, those thoughts are quickly swept away when I realize the impact that these great young men made on the world during their all too short lives. By placing their country before themselves these soldiers show us what true courage is as well as all of the things we should be thankful for.

So here we are on Veterans Day. I want to say thank you to our soldiers and their families. Thank you for your sacrifices. Thank you for fighting for our country and defending our freedoms, in distant lands, far away from your families and loved ones. Most of all, thank you for making the sacrifices and decisions that I know I do not have the courage to make. The sacrifices that allow myself and everyone else to live the lives that we are lucky to have.

Thank you veterans and God Bless America.

Congratulations (I still kind of hate you)

I love sports. Whether it's hockey, football, basketball (college not NBA) or soccer, sports takes up a tremendous amount of my free time. Above all of these, stands baseball. Playing Little League, practicing pitching against my stoop, being Keith Hernandez for Halloween in 2nd grade or being a Mets season ticket holder are just some of the ways that baseball has played a huge role in my life. It's impossible to be a baseball fan without at least thinking about the Yankees. They're the most storied franchise in the sport and if you live in New York, they've returned to being the city's most dominant franchise over the past 15 years.

I didn't always hate the Yankees. As a child of the 80's, during my entire childhood the Yankees were basically a non-factor in New York during the days when Doc, Darryl, Keith and the Kid ruled the city. When the Yankees became good again in the mid-90's I was actually rooting for them, especially in the '96 World Series against the hated Atlanta Braves. However, as they kept winning my hatred of them began to grow but I soon realized that it wasn't because of the team, as much as it was their fans.

Yankees fans. So many words to describe them. If I had to pick three, I would choose......

1)Entitled. I would attribute this to the Steinbrenner propaganda that "any year without a title is a failure!" Shut up. Listening to the game last night on the radio and hearing John Sterling explain how Yankees fans have been waiting "a long time" for this title was just a bit too much for me. Hey John, this franchise has won 26% of all the World Series ever played.....get a grip. As Kate said to me last night, "the same team isn't supposed to win every year." Very true Kate, just don't tell that to a Yankees fan.

2)Uninformed. If you ask 70% of Yankees fans one question about ANY other team in baseball they wouldn't have a clue. Asking a Yankees fan who the rightfielder for the Phillies was before this series would be the equivalent of asking them who the goalkeeper is for Portsmouth in the English Premier League. Of course this is a "Yankees Universe" so how could I blame them.

3)Obnoxious. This is really the big one. Yankees fans love to remind you just how much your team sucks. These are the same guys that who have pinstripe jerseys with the names of the player on the back.

Anyway, the point of this blog is not to trash the Yankees and their fans, it's actually a tip of the cap to them. From the beginning of the year you just got the sense that this team was for real. Championship teams usually have a mix of comraderie (see corny/obnoxious cream pie ritual), late inning comebacks (see every game against the Twins) and even a little bit of luck (see Luis Castillo). Oh yeah and this team had the added bonus of spending 1/4 billion dollars on three players this year. (there was no way I could write about the Yankees without a mention of their payroll) Sure enough, after stumbling out of the gate, the Yanks steamrolled through the summer, won the division and the pennant. As if this season wasn't bad enough for Mets fans, we had to endure a World Series featuring the other team in our city with the jerk off fans vs. our division rival with even bigger jerk off fans (Phillies fans seem to have forgotten that they're the most losing franchise in the history of American sports and that they've won a grand total of 2 championships since 1883) Well sadly enough, I came full circle from 1996 and I wanted the Yankees to win, or more accurately I wanted the Phillies to lose.

Last night the Yankees won the World Series and in some strange way, the sports universe seems normal again. Maybe it's just that I had grown so used to them winning all the time that it was strange to seem them lose for so long. Perhaps it's because that scrappy franchise with tough blue collar guys came together and won one for their likeable owner.....wait scrap that one. Even though the next few days will be full of parades, keys to the city and those entitled, uninformed, obnoxious fans, in a weird way, it's kind of nice to have the Yankees back on top. For now, all I can do is survive the cold winter, waiting for the ice to thaw, the sun to come shining through and baseball to begin again.

109 days till pitchers and catchers.

The Seventh Day

Throughout my life, certain events and times of the year have affected me in different ways. For example, each season of the year has a clear and precise "feel" for me. I love brisk fall days that make me think of football. Those first few days of the spring when the winter starts to thaw out are among my favorite days of any year, especially since my time at Fordham. For those of you who aren't Rams, I swear to you that there is NOTHING like the first few days of spring at Rose Hill.

Along these lines are the days of the week. Each day not only brings the different activities of my life but also distinct emotions. Out of the seven, the day that stands out the most is Sunday. Sunday speaks volumes of the religious foundations of our nation. It is celebrated by almost all Americans, regardless of their religious beliefs, as a day of rest. Our friends in New England still have Blue Laws that ban the sale of alcohol on Sundays thanks to their Puritan predecessors. Everything takes on a slower pace on Sunday, from driving to maybe sleeping a little later. The only thing that's a bit mad on Sundays is the supermarket....total craziness which I have learned to avoid.

Sunday also brings with it a massive clock that just ticks off the seconds until Monday. The moment you wake up on Sunday morning is the beginning of the end of your weekend. Sunday mornings are fantastic. Coffee, CBS Sunday Morning and a nice breakfast are just some of the things that make Sunday mornings my favorite. During the fall, the 1:00 football game starts the afternoon but once you hit the 4:00 game you realize that the weekend is quickly disappearing. In my life, Sunday nights have started with a nice dinner (once with my family, now with my wife) and finished with Barry's tea and 60 Minutes. It's about this time that I wish I could punch 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 into a computer and restart the timer on the day (hopefully my readers are also viewers of "Lost" otherwise that fantastic reference was a total waste.)

I don't like Sunday nights. I used to hate Sunday nights but now I just don't like them. Sunday nights used to make me feel sick, primariy because I never did my school work and would soon have to pay the consequences for my laziness. Sunday's nights don't make me feel sick anymore but they do make me long for my favorite time of any week: Friday at 3:30 PM.

It's now 7:30 on Sunday night. The Jets game is coming to a close, with 60 Minutes and a cup of Barry's soon to follow. It's time to get ready to go back to the grind tomorrow and start the countdown until Friday afternoon.

Hope you have a great week.

From the Back to the Front

School

It was a word that filled me with dread everytime I heard it. Grammar school was not necessarily a very impressive time for me. At best I was a relatively bright kid who was just a little lazy. At worst I was a wise ass who didn't do any work and more importantly, didn't know when to shut up. The word that was used the most during my adolescence was "potential." I heard it all the time from my parents and teachers. "If you just worked to your potential....." which quickly went in one ear and out the other. I could never focus on my school work even when I knew that I had to. I would procrastinate all day and as the school day approached I would make myself sick over the thought of what it had in store. Missed projects, poor test grades and not reaching my "potential" were just some of the things that plagued my time as a student. I was also caught up in being the class clown. In 5th grade my friend and I managed to play a full game of "Blades of Steel" on a Gameboy we had snuck into class. In 8th grade I pretended I had a twin brother during a class with a substitute (note: I did this by coming into the room multiple times either with or without my glasses on and sitting in a different seat. I feel this says much more about the mental capacity of the sub then it does about me.)

Many teachers just plain gave up on me and didn't want to deal with me or work with me any more. Can I blame them? Yes and no. Having a student in class that not only doesn't do work but also disrupts class is enough to drive a teacher up a wall but it's part of the gig....just like having the summer off. You're there to work with ALL of the kids in that class, not just the ones who raise their hands, do all their homework and ace every test. Fortunately, not all my teachers waved the white flag. There were others; the ones who would pull you aside, let you know that you were acting like an idiot but also tell you that if you just focused a little bit you might just succeed. The actions of these teachers made me realize that I wanted to teach. I wanted to help the lazy wise guys that maybe talked too much but still had a lot to offer.

So here I am. Two years ago I completed my Masters in Adolescence Social Studies Education and I am currently in my second year of teaching 6th and 7th grade social studies. I absolutely love it. I somehow managed to land a job at one of the best middle schools in the city, working with students, parents and fellow teachers that actually care about the work that we're doing. Additionally, working in a school provides comic relief that you don't get in many other places. During my training I was consistently told to not smile for the first few months of the year or to "Be mean 'till Halloween" but I just can't do it. The enjoyment I get out of teaching along with the things that these kids say is just too much. The comedy and awkward moments that a middle school dance is enough to make any one crack a smile.

The passion that I feel about my work is something that I never thought I would find and it's also something that I feel is mandatory for all teachers. If you go into teaching so that you can have a lot of time off, you're not only hurting the students in your class but also yourself. You need to want to be in that room, working with those kids and helping them grow. Also, teaching is A LOT of work. Outsiders see the time off and assume it's an easy job but there's a tremendous amount of work that goes into it, a lot of which has nothing to do with instruction. Calling parents, grading tests, extra help, after school programs and just becoming a better teacher takes a lot of time and effort. If you're not interested in fully investing yourself in the process then you probably shouldn't be there. After all, school is not just what is in textbooks. It's the experience of learning that helps students grow. I know that my kids are probably never going to need to know who won the Battle of Bunker Hill, but they will definetely need to know how to work with each other, respect each other and grow into teenagers and later adults that will make do something great. Having the right adult influence in the classroom can help them achieve these goals.

I sometimes wish that I would run into some of my old teachers. I think about the reactions they would have when I tell them that I was now a teacher. If you told them or anyone else in my family back in the early 90's that I would end up in the front of the room instead of sleeping in the back they probably wouldn't believe you, yet here I am. The impact that teachers had on my life is now full and present. It is now my turn to say "thank you" by doing the same.

Making a Home with Cheap Swedish Furniture

On August 8th, the Mrs. and I returned from our honeymoon and moved into our brand new apartment. Unfortunately, on August 8th our new apartment consisted of the following: a bed, a card table, two chairs, two juice glasses and two coffee mugs. At this point it wasn't much of a home as much as it was 1,000 square feet of emptiness. Over the next 3 weeks, we set out to make this apartment our home with a little help from some Swedish imports

IKEA is a crazy place. Where else can you shop for furniture and sit down for a meal of Swedish meatballs? In fact, it led one of the best exchanges between me and the Mrs. when I told her that I got the Swedish meatballs and she asked if I ate all 15 followed by her complete disgust when I responded with the inevitable "yes". We took a trip out, participated in the scavenger hunt that makes up an IKEA experience and purchased a number of items including a table, bookshelf and wardrobe. Now it was time for me to test my handyman skills and put these things together. While I will admit that I am talented in some areas, being handy is not one of them. The purchase of a home brought this issue to the forefront and it was now time to face it head on.

The Table

First up was the entry way table seen above. Overall it was not that difficult and I was able to complete it with relative ease; then I went to screw the doors on and realized I had a problem. It turned out that I had put the middle piece (marked as "A" in picture below) in backwards which mean the holes to screw the doors on were conveniently located inside the table. Well luckily my mother-in-law had given me a drill so I found the local hardware store, bought some drill bits, drilled new holes for the doors and screwed them right on. (I would have had to take the whole thing apart to flip that piece hence the drilling.) Sure, I needed to drill four holes and probably drilled six but that's not the point. The point is I saw a problem, improvised, fixed it AND it worked! You can also say that I'm an idiot for putting the piece in backwards but I was choosing to be positive as I moved on to the next piece: the bookshelf.

Exhibit A of my stupidity (note the uneven hinges)

The Bookshelf

The bookshelf appeared to be pretty straightforward. It had no doors and few pieces so I felt pretty confident. I put it together, stood it up and realized I had a problem. In order to protect our floors from scratches, I had put blankets down when putting these items together. Unfortunately, when I had the bookshelf standing up, I noticed that a piece fo the blanket had gotten stuck between two pieces of the bookshelf (see picture below)

Check out the bottom right corner.....Boooooooooo

Have you ever had the thought "I suck!" race through your mind? That was all that I could think of when I saw what I had done. Unfortunately it's still there as I still haven't figured out what to do with it. So far, I've come up with two options: 1)take the bookshelf apart and remove the piece or 2)try to match the color of the wood with a marker and make it blend.

The Wardrobe

The wardrobe was the last to be assembled and with good reason as well. The wardbrobe was big. The wardrobe was complicated. The instructions for the wardrobe included 57 steps as compared with the 25-35 for the table or bookshelf. After having my clothes piled on the floor for a week and a half I decided it was time to give it a try. I'm proud to say that I learned from my mistakes and put the wardrobe together without any major incidents. In fact I'm so proud that I've sadly included not one, but two pictures to show off my work.

Last week our couch was delivered, (a VERY important piece for us due to our love for laying on the couch) and we picked up more furniture from Stratford and the Manor. That was when it became official: we had a HOME. There's still more to do but our place is really coming together. What was once an empty apartment became a home for the McCaughey's and all it took was some cheap Swedish furniture (and 15 Swedish meatballs.)

Mr. and Mrs. McCaughey

WARNING: The following blog is about being married. If you're an old grizzled veteran of marriage and you're not interested in hearing what some greenhorn has to say, I suggest you quit reading now. On the other hand, you can just think of this as a war movie. I'm one of the new recruits whose uniform is clean, has every possible piece of gear in his pack and wants to see what war is really like. You're the two tour vet who laughs at me while smoking a cigarette, shaking your head and while thinking "This kid has no idea what he's in for."


As we were driving to the resort for our honeymoon a thought came to my mind. As is usually the case, I ran this idea by the Mrs. to see what she thought. "You know that we're never really going to say good bye to each other again? All the trips, the visits to Connecticut or Long Island, Mets games there was always a formal ending to the time we would spend with each other before we would go our separate ways. Now we're stuck with each other." She laughed, agreed and maybe had a passing doubt about why she married someone who would come to such a childish conclusion. However, I now realize that driving in that car that day (one of the best unnecessary spendings EVER, I highly recommend renting a convertible at least once) I came to my first realization of what marriage is: never saying goodbye.

I understand this isn't exactly a groundbreaking idea but on the surface it can be quite intimidating. I'm going to spend EVERY day with the same person for the rest of my life? What if we fight? More importantly, what if we run out of things to talk about??? GASP! I knew I should of thought of these things before I proposed! (Actually I always thought the latter should be one of the factors when deciding if you should stay with someone long term. It's one of my favorite parts of my relationship with the Mrs. We have great conversations and she listens to most of the stupid things I say.) Issues will definitely arise but I suppose that most of the time how you handle these issues will prove to be more important than the issue itself, especially because of the never saying goodbye thing. Arguments, disagreements, etc, must be met head on because that person isn't going anywhere. Once you say "I do" -which now that I think about it you don't actually say- you've locked yourself in for eternity and I say eternity because divorce isn't much of an option. In fact, we have an informal agreement that we'll just be miserable together instead of the whole divorce thing; it really is the Irish-Catholic thing to do.

Anyway I can honestly say that things aren't all that different then they were before other than the fact that we live with each other (for those of you who don't know three people made sure that I didn't live with the Mrs. before we got married 1)Jesus 2)the Holy Father and 3)my mother and those are in reverse order) When people have asked me how married life is, I usually answer "So far so good." This answer is usually reserved for questions such as "How is that book you're reading?" or "Enjoying the play Mr. Lincoln?" but it summarizes my married life to this point; everything is good. Will this be different one day, week, month or year down the road? In many ways I'm sure it will be but in the important ways I know it won't.

So these are some of the things I've learned about being married. I must admit that I've thought about these ideas before, now I'm just getting the chance to practice them. I must also admit that I've never felt like a bigger ass then I do now, blogging about relationships while drinking an iced caramel macchiato at Starbucks. I bet that five years ago I would have bookended that statement with "If you ever see me......I give you permission to shoot me" yet here I am typing away. The difference? Maybe my wife and this marriage thing.

158 Days

On February 21st myself, Kate and my sister Anne looked at three apartments in Forest Hills (it was supposed to be 4 but one of the residents at the fourth building threatened to murder the agent who was showing us the building.) After looking at the apartments and emotionally recovering from the death threat, we headed up to Fordham for a basketball game. On our way to dinner on Arthur Ave. the agent called us to inform us that there was another apartment that was just listed and suggested we take a look at it. Although it was a little out of our price range, we figured there was no harm in looking.

Later that week, I looked at the apartment and fell in love. Great sized rooms, beautiful building and an ideal location near Austin Street. Now about that price......

One of the many beautiful things about my relationship with Kate is the flexibility that we have in many situations (no, I'm not being filthy thank you very much) However, one of the areas where we didn't necessarily meet eye to eye was the financials of our home buying. I was lucky to have someone who was looking out for the two of us and didn't want to drive us into foreclosure; Kate was lucky because this apartment totally kicked ass and she would love to live there once I convinced her. And thus it became my mission: make the apartment much more then just a price tag and convince her that this is the home where we were meant to start our new life together.

We scheduled another viewing, checked it out, and no sooner than the door was closed on the car ride home, did Kate tell me she loved it; but could we afford it? Well sure enough, your humble narrator became "Mr. Excel" and started creating spreadsheets left and right.....20% down + maintenance + mortgage= this per month etc etc etc. We could eat Raman for dinner right? Food comes and goes, a beautiful apartment is forever (or until we buy house.)

We placed our bid on March 14th and on March 17th, after a little back and forth, our offer was accepted. What an omen right???? Two Micks have their offer accepted on St. Patrick's Day. This should be a piece of cake! Unfortunately it didn't quite work that way. Days turned to weeks and weeks to months for this process to unfold.

I could spend this blog venting about Chase and the plague of locusts that I wish on them but I'm not going to do that. Why? Because I'm thrilled. Today Kate and I closed on our apartment and are now proud owners of Apartment 5L. So what that it took us 158 days.....we did it, it's ours. My dad (who we could not have done this without) took us for a pint of Guinness after the closing and then Katie and I headed over to the new place. When we got into the car, we turned to each other with the same look that said the same thing....."Holy shit...we did it."

Now let's get married.

My Home

"At the early age of thirty-eight me mother said Go West!"

Those who know me are well aware of my love and respect for my Irish heritage. As I sit here just short of my 29th birthday I realize that I have more than lived up to the stereotype of Irishmen found in the Christy Moore lyrics cited above: a tendency to live at home with their "mammies" well past the age when most people have left.

Living at home post-25 is an interesting experience. Television and movies tell us that it is for unemployed losers who can't get their acts together (see George Costanza) Others say that it's a smart move because it's a great way to save money. Personally, I always had everything I needed here in Stewart Manor: family, friends and the support that comes along with them.

Stewart Manor NY 11530. This is the only address I have ever known. This is my home.

This is where I threw tennis balls against the stoop to practice my fielding for Little League, shot tape pucks at garbage can nets and played tennis with my sister Anne every summer during the US Open

This is where I come home (even to do this day) late at night and in various stages of sobriety to let my parents know that I'm home safe even though they don't always remember it in the morning.

This is where I would sneak outside for a late night cigarette after everyone had gone to bed (DISCLAIMER: I did this when I smoked which I no longer do)

This is where my parents set the example for what married life and family should be.

This is Manor Brews and Carvel

This is where my sisters treated me like a prince even though I rarely reciprocated.

This is where I spent all of my Christmas mornings; walking downstairs before dawn as a child and being dragged out of bed to walk upstairs as an adult.

This is where I became a lifelong Mets fan after watching Game 6 of the 1986 NLCS with my grandmother.

This is where Monday nights were for 24 with Maureen, Frank and Jack Bauer.

This is the town where I played Little League, was a Boy Scout and am now a fireman.

This is where my father, perhaps after a few cocktails, would sing "Dirty Old Town" while cleaning up in the kitchen after a family party.

This is where it took me 25 years to get my act together academically and provide my parents with the Masters they deserved much more than I did.

And finally: this is where I spent my entire life.

I'm getting married on Saturday which fills me with more excitement then anything before. I cannot wait to start my new life with my wife Mary Kate. However, it would be dishonest for me to say that I'm not a little sad right now. I'm sad for this amazing chapter in my life that will soon be just a memory.

It is now my turn. Saturday starts a new chapter that will present the challenge of being as good of a spouse as my father is to my mother and my mother to my father and to one day provide my children a life that just might make them want to live at home until they're 29.

Hello

Hello my name is Frank McCaughey and I am now a blogger.

My original aversion to blogging was that I could never comprehend (and still kind of don't) why anyone would want to hear what I have to say. I lead a rather uneventful life and fundamentally have a problem with people who run around thinking that others want to hear about their uneventful life.....I suppose I found it a bit presumptious.



Then something happened......I grew up. In one quick year I went from an unemployed, single grad student living in his parent's basement to an employed, (almost) married full time teacher.....living in his parent's basement (although that will soon change as well)



In two days I will offically own a home. In five days I will be married.



I feel that I've always been one to reflect on the events that have shaped my life and I now stand at the precipice of two of the biggest; this is what has lead me to this blog.



I will update as I move through this exciting time in my life that wil provide a tremendous amount of joy but also a little sadness. If you take the time to read this, I thank you in advance and hope that I don't bore you too much.



Cheers



-Frank