Monday, April 11, 2016

The Spartan Race

In a world gone crazy, here's a great way to get it all out! The Spartan Race will improve your mind, body, and fitness and I've got a special code for anyone who's interested. Not ready yet? That's okay...grab a copy of Joe DeSena's new book, which will rev you up and get you ready to conquer the race.
Check out here!
You can pre-order the book and/or read the first chapter now.
Go check it out: you and your inner warrior will be glad you did!

Sunday, March 27, 2016

The Things Kids Say

Tonight while we were getting my son ready for bed, he pointed to my husband's wrist and proclaimed, "Daddy has a Glock!"
We looked at each other and laughed.
He was pointing to my husband's watch, which he just found out is the kind of clock you wear on your wrist.
"Daddy does have a Glock, but that's not it."
Only in Police this a really cute anecdote.

Here's hoping you and yours had a Fabulous Easter, and that the next Season upon us is filled with love and peace. May God Richly Bless You; and keep our Officers safe.

Monday, February 29, 2016

Out to Lunch

My husband’s job has changed considerably in the past couple of years. While he was once a street cop with lots of interaction with the public (read: long hours on patrol) he is now at a desk more often than not. He’s still saving the world in his own way, but lunch is more often eaten at a desk versus behind the wheel of a car.
I often chide him about going out for lunch. I say all the things a wife has been known to say: you should take a break, get time away from the computer, get some fresh air, etc.     
“It’s just not worth it.” He says, and then proceeds to explain to me why. It cuts into his time to actually eat lunch and breathe a little; by the time he heads outside, stands on line, grabs lunch…you get the picture. He also insists that he always gets approached by the public. They ask questions, ask for directions, or worse…they need Police help…and at that point, he’s just a hungry guy trying to grab a bite to eat.
I get it.
However I really got it the other day when I was in Midtown Manhattan. For those of you unfamiliar with NYC, Midtown is where all the stuff you see on TV is located: the Empire State building, Times Square, et al. I was walking from the East Side over to the West Side and had just decided to pop into a Chipotle for a quick Mexican fix. Side topic: I have mixed emotions about Chipotle to begin with, because of reported incidents about the way they threat Law Enforcement Officers. Since I haven’t experienced any of their prejudice firsthand, I will still eat there for the time being.
That said…I was craving guacamole.
So I grabbed my bowl and saddled up to a stool facing 42nd Street. As I was pulling off my various layers of clothing, I noticed the guy next to me shoot me a side glance, and I nodded. Us Native New Yorkers tend to give a half-smile/side glance/I’m checking-you-out-but-don’t-want-you-to-know thing and call it a day. This all happens in nanoseconds.
I think nothing of him.
A few forkfuls in, he turns toward me and says, “Are you a cop?”
I look at him questioningly and then peer down and realize that I’m wearing an NYPD sweatshirt. I left the house in the usual rush, so I just threw it on and headed out the door.
“Oh!” I smile and chew. “No…but do you need help?” I figured if he was a tourist that I can help him get wherever it is that he needed to go.
“No.” He sneers. “I was just wondering…you know.” He gestures towards my sweatshirt.
“Oh, yes…my husband’s a cop.” I generally say this with pride, but I’m starting to feel the little alarm bells going off in my head and my thoughts turn instantly to the anti-police climate that we currently live in, as I begin reaching for my phone.
“Yeah…well…I was just wondering, you know…my wife, NO, my ex-wife...” He sneers again as he crumples his burrito wrapper, “Just had me falsely arrested.”
Oh, here we go…
He proceeds to try and engage me in the details of his “false arrest” while I shovel food down my throat at the pace of a competitive eater. I am not sure if he’s unsafe, but he’s rambling, and either way wants to go on and on about this injustice. I am watching him far more than I am listening to him, still making all the right noises in the meantime. I am playing along. At some point, he tilts the conversation toward kids getting busted for weed, and how cops just like to go after these kids for minuscule amounts of weed. I am tempted to inform him about how patently false this information is; that the current administration in New York City can give two shits less about people smoking pot, openly, on the streets, and how they have even advised cops to not arrest these menaces to society.
I hold my tongue.  
This is a Tuesday at 4 o’clock in the afternoon in Midtown Manhattan, people. This is not a conversation that’s going down in a scary section of the City. This is the New Police Culture: where the police are wrong and the criminals citizens are right.
I manage to extricate myself from this individual and go on my merry way. I wish him well in his fight, and I even smile at him as I leave.
But as I re-enter the pedestrian traffic flow, I begin to realize how right my husband is…sometimes it’s just not worth going out to lunch.

Monday, February 15, 2016

The Whirlwind

Presuming I have any readers left, I’d like to fill you all in on the whirlwind that has been my life, and then perhaps you can understand why blogging hasn’t been at the top of my pile.
It’s been nuts!
These past couple of months have been chock-full of real life events, and just like real life…some good and some bad.
The days shuffle by so fast that I just picked my head up and realized it’s February.
Let’s go back to November for a minute, when the news was fast and furiously coming down the pike. The Friday night prior to Thanksgiving my husband was informed that he was getting promoted.
I am now married to a NYC Detective.
(Insert loud clapping here)
The only clinch was this: the Promotion Ceremony was that upcoming Tuesday, two days before Thanksgiving. I work on Tuesdays, so right away I began to search high and low for someone to sub my class at the gym. Once I put that into play, I began to tackle childcare.
Then my husband informed me that he definitely wanted our son there.
Our son is two and a half years old; not exactly a great candidate to sit in a chair for almost three hours and quietly clap as Daddy shook the Commissioner’s hand.  I tried to talk my husband out of it; I tried reason and bribery, all to no avail. I had one hand on the babysitting lever, and was about to pull that proverbial trigger, but reconsidered and chose to play along, knowing that we were going to have a very long day ahead of us.
I’ll spare you all the gory details, but the end result was that my husband got the pictures he wanted, and I ended up drinking a lot of wine at the celebration afterward.
After that, I hosted Thanksgiving, and then about a week later as I was prepping for our annual Christmas Bash, I began feeling as if I had been run over by a Mack truck.
A doctor’s visit…Tamiflu…you name it…and I just kept getting worse. I ended up in the hospital and was sent home only after making the entire nursing staff laugh as much as humanly possible.
Once home, I began to realize that the Christmas Party I look forward to every year was just not going to happen. I was too weak, and by then too far behind, to pull it off the way I wanted to…and I am that type of person…if I couldn’t have it the way I wanted it,  well…you get the picture.

We cancelled the party but I managed to host Christmas Eve, and although my body was recovering, I suffered a few setbacks before I felt fully “me” again.
The New Year brought along with it new things: some long-put-off home renovations, a new Fitness Format that I just got certified in, a busy life, a busy wife, and a busy Momma.

The good news is that I have not forgotten my Blue Family. I’ve been swamped, but my heart has been with all the Blue Families who have been affected by this time in history: when do-nothing politicians give lip service to men and women who give their lives in the cause of service, and the only politicians who say anything that matters seem to be doing so to hear the sound of their own voice.
I honestly do not know how some people sleep at night.
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