Cool Hunter

This post is dedicated to my Mom

I'm always on the look out for new products, anything from something to clean a bath tub to a great new piece of jewelry. I very much enjoying sharing the new things, ideas, places I find and figured blogging about it would be the ultimate way to share- so here goes.

These are the things I'm most excited about right now:

1. Tide to Go Sticks:
These really do work! When I was in Rome I pretty much wore the same pair of gauchos everyday, they were comfy, breathable and I could eat a lot while wearing them. The eating caused a couple of stains. Normally I would have washed them, I was in Rome though so I used the Tide to go- and it worked like a charm. This morning, I split a little coffee on my cute pink cardigan- no worries, I've got Tide to go. Last week my co-worker got oil on her shirt- I removed it swiftly with the Tide to go stick... I'm telling you they work and fit easily in a purse. Go get one!

2. Clorox Wipes

I love these. I have them on the counter at home for cleaning up after cooking, in the bathroom for wiping up weekly to keep the bathroom cleanish and on my desk at work for cleaning up after lunch and just in general. I love the lavender scent- but you can't always find it- the fresh scent is also nice and usually available. Method also makes these, and while I love to support them and their products the scents aren't good- too cleanerish. I recently purchased the Target brand for my pack on my desk, just to see since they are cheaper- and I'm warning you- there's a reason to spend extra to get clorox. I can't get the Target ones to come out of the container without them ripping into small pieces. Never again.

3. Fred Flare Aviators

Avs are so in, and have been for some time. At first it was super hard to find good ones that weren't super expensive- and you can go so wrong with aviators. These are the best- I'm telling you. And, they are super cheap- only $8! I love them. Go get them. Look great on Men and Women. The site itself has some fun, funky stuff- but I can't vouch for anything but the avs- I love them.

4. Silver Goose Jewelry

I think this jewelry is great. I love that you can get anything monogrammed, and the jewelry is super cute. I got a necklace there about a year ago and still get compliments on it when I wear it. I actually just ordered a monogrammed ring as I wrote this post. Its great- and so affordable. The necklace has gotten a bit worn looking because I wore it so much, however I'm sure I could easily clean it- and I don't take the best care of my jewelry. Its a great place to get gifts for friends, family, bridesmaids, groomsmen etc. And... they have more than jewelry! Definitely check them out!

5. American Apparel V-Neck Tee

I love this t-shirt. I would wear it everyday in various colors if I could. It is comfortable, breathable, can be dressed up or down and just all around plain great. The fit is definitely geared towards women, which is great and they aren't one of those t-shirts that as the sizes go up they get wider instead of overall larger. I usually order online because its so easy, but I know they have stores on Newbury St and bunch in NYC. I will warn you- I ordered some undies from here and the size scale was not what I was expecting- I ordered my usual size and they were tiny. Overall a definite must if you're looking for great t-shirts

Those are my 5 for now... look for more soon!

The Three Legged Stool

When I was young we frequently ate Friday night dinners at our close family friend's house. I would most often walk in and head straight to one of the three bar stools seated at their kitchen counter/peninsula. I loved sitting up there, while the adults mingled in the kitchen. Sometimes I would color, while drinking my Epsom Sunrise (They live in Epsom, NH and I was much too young to know it was a virgin Tequila Sunrise), sometimes I would just chat, other times I'd dance on the counter, or put my hair up in the crown that covers bottles of Chambord. If I was lucky, I'd get to eat at the counter perched on my stool.

Sometimes we moved to the living room or TV room, but most nights were spent in some form of eating in their large, open kitchen. I loved sitting up on the counter stools. I felt important, adult, and the center of attention. As the years passed and I grew up and moved out I would often return for visits home and end up eating there at least one night out of the visit. I still headed right for the bar stools and if I didn't sit up on one, I would at least stand nearby that counter talking and eating appetizers.

The stools did such a good job of holding me up, keeping me high allowing me a feeling of freedom and importance. I had a place to sit, a place to go and it gave me access to what everyone else was doing.

Now, I'm a part of a newly formed three legged stool. We're going to hold eachother high when we need to be, offer a place to climb onto if one feels like they're falling, a place of importance and belonging, but freedom and indpendence too. I don't know for certain if the family friends' stools were four or three legs, but I do know that even if one of the legs had to be removed, I'd still go sit on them and they'd still hold me up.

Stuck in Puddles

During the recent rain, not only towns throughout New England flooded, but my car did too. Literally, I was scooping puddles of water out of the floor with a plastic cup.

On a recent drive from Worcester to Boston I had the time to listen to some new CDs, one of them from one of the two weddings I missed during the Spring due to my Father's illness and death. I popped the CD in, not really looking forward to the love songs- but curious to hear them, see what they'd put on it. It immediately popped back out, rejected. I should have taken that as a sign, but instead I shoved it back in and this time it took, but wouldn't play, so I hit eject. It didn't eject. It was stuck. I shook my head looking at the CD player and the puddle on the floor of my passenger seat. And I realized, in all honestly, I didn't care that much. One of the major shifts in my life- the little things really don't phase me as much any more. I instead just switched over to the radio. Then I decided to play with it for a little bit, just to see. Just because the little things don't matter as much doesn't mean I'm not still fidgety and curious. I popped the face of the CD player off and fiddled with the CD inside. I put the face back on and tried again, it played! Ultimately I skipped over most songs, not able or wanting to focus on much of them. When I got home and tried to eject it, so I could take it inside and never play it again in my car, it wouldn't come out. I turned the car off, again not really caring, fidgeted some more with it, tried again with no luck and easily gave up. I threw some more paper towels on the floor of the car and went inside.

The next day as I got in my car, my head shaking at the new puddle that had formed, I turned the key and heard the CD pop out. It made the puddle not so bad.

F-ing Father's Day

I have to admit, I'm starting to hate Father's Day. Its everywhere, and my pain is still so fresh and real that its almost like pouring salt in my wound. Every commercial, every catalogue (and the internet shopping me gets a lot of them), every advertising email(again the internet shopping me gets a lot of them). They all happily talk about the lovely upcoming Father's day and all the lovely ideas for your lovely father.

I delete them with anger and frustration, thinking, "Leave me alone I don't have a father I can buy anything for, and besides I already had gotten him something (tickets to a red sox game along with 3 others, so the whole family could go) and now I have to attend that something without him.

I'm thinking about him and what living without him is going to be like constantly, and now I have to be reminded how loads of other people still have their fathers and they get to celebrate him while I make plans to visit the family he's left in his wake and perhaps put flowers on his grave. Father's day sucks. I don't need a day to celebrate him, I never did, anyway- I celebrated him constantly. We were close, I was a reflection of him in so many ways and just by becoming a successful adult I was celebrating him. I still celebrate him and his memory, every day as I figure out what living without him is going to be like, and how I can continue becoming a reflection of him and what he would have, was, could have been.

Then, I feel guilty, because I'm so happy/thankful for my family and friends who do have Father's to celebrate and should be. Family is so important. I want my friends to be making plans to spend the day with their Fathers and thinking of wonderful gifts to give him to honor him and thank him for being a wonderful Dad.

But, then, deep down I still resent and am annoyed with Father's day. Maybe because its coming so soon after losing mine, maybe if it had been a year after I wouldn't be hating it so much as it approaches. Who knows. I guess we'll see how I feel next year, I have a hunch it will be very similar.

The San Giacomo Psych Ward Tour

There was the "Scar Doctor" because we never got his name- he had serious reconstructive scars around his chin and cheeks and was very present in our first 2.5 days at San Giacomo Psych Ward. At the end of the 2nd day he came across us on the phone near the elevator. As he waited to go down, he asked my mom how she was. She explained that as the anxiety from Sammy's ordeal lessened the grief came back very strongly. He revealed he had lost his 3 year child 6 months earlier. As we gasped and offered our sympathies he simply said, "It is hard, yes... and it is possible".

There was Bernardo- the multi-lingual "International Thief", he was released on Monday to his family who wouldn't accept his kisses. He made sure Sammy got up for meals and often translated when the orderlies were attempting to communicate with us. He says he has 10 months off and enough money to come to the states and stop by Northwood, the Dr. says he doesn't see him leaving Italy anytime soon.

There was Jessica- the street worn, sockless smoker, who always said hello and was ever appreciative of cigarettes we bought for Sammy to give out. She taught us how to count in Italian and we taught her 1-10 in English. We speculated she had come from a history of abuse and perhaps lived on the streets.

There was Valentina- the young outgoing makeover queen of the ward, who had a penchant for cigarettes and Sammy. Alison says she was there from the beginning and only started to come out of her shell when Sammy was more awake. I remember her family on the 2nd day handing out pastries and cookies and her happily walking the ward. She drew many pictures for Sammy and every day we returned a new female patient would have her face done up.

There was Stephano- the pony tailed non-English speaker who was friendly and sweet. He had outdoor smoking privileges and told Alison he was one of 7 and had to stay till Sunday and had already been in the ward for 9 weeks. I remember his family coming once, but mostly he was left alone to chat with other patients and give Sammy high fives.

There was Mary the one with roots strongly coming through died blonde hair who told us she was there from a depression crisis. Her sister visited frequently and walked the hall with her. Her mother came on Tuesday with a new pink outfit for Mary. Valentina's makeover of her included putting her hair up in a way that made her roots less noticeable.

There was Josie who arrived on Sunday bugged eye and pajamaed. She spoke small bits of English with us and enjoy the M&M's we brought.

There were others we never met, or who mostly slept. I'm sure there will be many more. They will remain a part of this experience that made it in many ways more real and in others more surreal. They made us a show, something that entertained them- The sleepy American boy and his family that comes everyday at 10, 4 and 8- and also reminded us of the realness of life, the reality of living each day, how hard the world can come crashing down on you at times, and yet, how, it is possible.

Real Rome

I was drawn to the people- the realness of Rome, perhaps because it was the realness of life that brought to Rome.

Rainy Greens

Everyone keeps complaining about the rain. I have to agree on some levels- the sun would be nice now, I'm sure the sun would help me out.

Yet, I keep looking around at all the green that's thrived in the last week of this rain. The trees are much more lush, the yet to blossom flowers growing faster, the grass calling to my bare feet. I think all the green looks great with all this rain. I pull onto my block and think, I'm so happy to live here. All the trees surrounding the pavement are beautiful and soften it and make it nice to come home to.

So while I'll rejoice with the rest of the community when the sun does come back, I'm content to sit inside and look out at how beautiful this spring is becoming and how pretty the rain glistens on the leaves and buds.

A Picture is Worth...

I love photos. I love taking photos, I love being in photos, I love framing photos. As a result I have loads of family photos around my room. I have a picture of my parents when they were my age, I have a picture of me being kissed on both cheeks by my parents, I have a picture of my brother and I each picking up our parents, him with my mom on his back, me with my dad. I have a 4 photo frame with pictures from our trip to Costa Rica. I have a photo being held by one of those clips next to my computer of the four of us at a Red Sox game last summer. They are everywhere. I love these photos, they remind me of what a fabulous family I have, of how close and loved we are. These photos are meant to keep me happy when I'm feeling down, allow me to brag and show off my great family, and again remind me of who I am and where I come from.

Right now these photos are making me sad. They remind me of who I've lost, of the missing piece that's not coming back.

The home where I grow up has a historical wall up the main staircase devoted to family photos. Every time I walk those stairs I think of all the wonderful times I've spent with my Father, how much he loved us, and what a great Man he was. I think of how now family photos will just be three of us and that it seems odd. On family vacations we could share one room. At family gatherings we'll be the ones with no Dad.

Then I force myself to cherish the memories these photos hold. They are reminders of wonderful times we've spent together and all that my father has passed on to me and all that he was able to provide me with. These can never be taken away, they won't go missing and don't stop with his passing.

My children may not be able to meet their Grandfather, but they'll know why everyone who met him fell in love with him, what he looked like, where he took us and in me they'll have everything he passed onto me and that will only get stronger.

When One Door Closes #2

I want to open the window.

There was a baby in the Temple on Monday. My family and I walked into the sanctuary to take our front row seats, I would sit in the back row hard metal chairs for every Friday night and Saturday morning service for years before wanting the front row seats for this reason, and we heard the cooing and babbling of a young baby. It was perfect. It calmed me for a moment and really highlighted how true it is that when one door has closed, another has just opened.

Its been overcast and raining since Tuesday. Monday, when we buried my father, it was gorgeous. There were no bugs, the sun was warm and comforting and we could open all the windows in the house and let the love, laughter and most importantly new air flow through the rooms.

Sunday, after the Funeral Home came and took my Dad's body, there was a spot to clean on the mattress. We pulled the blind to the top of the window, pressed the bed right up against it and let the warm sun seep in to dry it. I felt like the sun was shining down right on that spot. It knew it needed some warmth, some comfort, and yet some way to imprint what had happened into the mattress.

I don't really believe that things happen for a reason anymore, what is the reason for what I just experienced? However, Nature has a funny way of showing up and letting you know there is a whole mysterious world that keeps on happening around you and giving you things to key into, focus on, cherish, make you feel warm. My Mom saw two Herons on her first walk after my Dad's funeral, one of his favorite birds. Monday after the funeral the sun was streaming through the clouds in those amazing rays that make you believe there is something above them, something up there.

I Know Good People

When you are looking for jobs people often tell you- "Its not about what you know, its about who you know." Who knows why, but that popped into my head today and as I thought more about it, it fit my situation quite well.

As what I know gets worse and worse, who I know are better and better. My friends send me daily emails, just checking in, just sending their love, just offering whatever they can do to help. They offer prayers, positivity, strength, love, support and in such unselfish ways it astounds me. My friends welcome plans for me every day of the week, cooking dinners, eating out, playing games, just talking about whatever it is that I feel like talking about. They've really rallied for me.

What I know is a lot of bad news, but who I know have been completely there for me. When I'm feeling down they remind me of how loved I am, how much strength they see in me and much they want to help. And then, I don't feel so down anymore. I feel the love and support instead. It is about who you know.

Thank God for that.

Dry Rain

My hands are dry. Its pouring outside. I've got juxtapositions on my mind.

There are so many flowers and living things in the house, there are constant visitors stopping by, so much living is happening in the house right now. And on all our minds is death. It doesn't mean any of us, my dad especially, is giving up. He keeps saying, "I'm going to take a couple of whacks at this." Yet, its what we're all thinking about. Its what makes people come into the house and fill it with love and support and life. Its what makes us feel like life is actually happening around us.

When everything is good, when there isn't anything serious to focus on I find that life just flies by, it just keeps moving and you keep moving with it... there isn't anything to make you stop and look around.

Cancer makes you stop and look around. I really think about each day as I'm living it. Sometimes I don't want the days to end because it means another day has moved on. I think the days move a bit more slowly now too, because I'm very focused on their movement, I see each hour pass. I think about each moment I'm in and how it relates to the next. Especially being home this weekend, timing is everything. When was the last dose of pain medications? When was the last time we ate? When are the good shows/games/movies on to watch? When do I have to leave? Not yet. Right now I need to get some hand cream.

When

When he pulls me in tightly and wraps his arms around me. When I'm laying on his chest and feel his heart beating. When I fall asleep leaning on his stomach. When I hug him from behind and his back feels strong and warm. When I'm touching the inner part of his arms and their softness calms me.

That's where I'm safe. That's when I feel secure.

When I cry, he holds me.

And I'm reminded of how safe I am, I'm reminded of the security he provides.

Waves

I can't take credit for the terminology, but it is so fitting I have to use it. The sadness, the fear, the overwhelming anxiety, it washes into you like a tide coming in pushed hard by waves. It all becomes a wave washing over you.

I was sitting in the tower room watching House Hunters wrapped up in the Boys arms last night, who could want to be anywhere else, and a wave came in. I lost focus and could only imagine the loss, the uncertainty, the question that is lingering over all of us. That Suzanne Wang was bringing us back to a young couples house hunt, and Matt's arms were holding me tightly didn't matter. All that mattered was my Dad has cancer. It was a pretty big wave. And just like that (what is that phrase anyway, is there a better way to transition?) the tide went out, and I was satisfied to be watching House Hunters on a couch with the Boy. Doesn't mean its not coming back in.

Sammy, Rachel, Matt and I went and did errands this morning; it feels so good to be productive right now. We were driving back from the seacoast with the windows down and the sun coming in. Sigur Ros was playing, and unfortunately I can't stream it through the blog but if you can find a song and listen you'll understand. We were all quiet, watching the road ahead, listening to the mellowed music, the sun warming our heads and the breeze softening the glare. I think a wave was washing into all of us. And we all had to let the tide come and wait for it to start heading back out. I asked for a music change as mine receded and everyone nodded in agreement. These moments are going to keep hitting, I know. My Mom says it may become easier to function during them, to not have to stop everything.

I sit on the porch writing this. The sun is setting behind clouds in front of me, my feet peeking above the laptop screen perched on the railing. I feel connected to the green fields that roll in front of me and the chirping of the birds around me. I feel good, I feel at peace. But I can't stay here. My feet are starting to get cold, and the hairs on my arms are raised. And a wave may be on the horizon.

The Sweet Smell Of...

As a kid we'd play the "if you had to lose one sense what would it be?" game. I'm sure I changed my answer each time.

If I had to play it now, I wouldn't choose my sense of smell. Sure it can take you places you would never ever want to go, like to the brink of vomiting. Yet, for all the times it brings me pleasure and all the memories it helps to return, I think its all worth it.

I was walking back to my apartment one afternoon when I was transfixed by the smell of laundry. It was incredibly fragrant and pure. I immediately wanted to stop and just smell it, perhaps close my eyes and sit down to really take it in. In all honesty and with all cheesiness aside, it made me happy. I literally had a bounce in my step as I continued the walk and then craved the smell later in the day. I thought about searching Yankee Candle for their clean laundry smell, but realized it wouldn't be the same. As much as I love candles and scents, none of them ever compare to the actual.

When the Boy and I were in the first and second years of our relationship, and struggling with long distance, I would keep a shirt of his tucked under my pillow to smell. I would make him wear one shirt constantly during our visits, and then hold onto it when he left, literally. He doesn't wear cologne or deodorant, so it wasn't an artificial smell. Just him, his pure smell. My brother thought it was gross, would make fun of me for wearing the shirt to bed, "Eww, you smell like a boy." I didn't care, because it kept me closer to him, the smell comforted me. Recently he surprised me with a visit. He was waiting in my bedroom, the lights were off, he stood behind the door to hide and as I tried to open it and felt resistance I was at first scared and confused, but then I smelled him and was immediately relieved and excited.

I'd never want to lose the memories of those moments, or any of the moments I've connected to smells. Like muffins baking on a spring weekend morning, or the turkey roasting on Thanksgiving, or garlic sautéing for a dinner party.

And, going back to the game, I honestly don't think I could choose a sense to give up.

Crocuses

Spring is a time for change, rebirth, and renewal. It’s quite lovely. I love walking to Davis Sq. and seeing all the crocuses starting to bloom. The green stems pushing through the now warming soil, a sign of all the green that will follow and I'm green with envy. I love spring, I love all it represents. But... I don't feel any change coming. I don't feel any kind of rejuvenation; nothing is blossoming inside of me. I'm here, I'm happy, I've got good things going on... and yet nothing big is coming this season and I wish it were. Outside of the Pine St. Inn this morning, I saw a homeless man holding up a small red mirror for a homeless woman who was applying make up. I think she saw something big coming, was getting ready for the spring blossoming in her. I guess seeing that, sharing in that will tide me over for now.

A Spring State of Mind

I just switched over to a screen in one of my bedroom windows, so I could let the Spring air in. I'm so glad its finally here. This is the day I love- the day when it really truly feels like Spring is coming. The day they predicted would be gloomy and bring thunderstorms- not spring thunderstorms, spring isn't here yet thunderstorms- is sunny, with clouds yes- but springy clouds, and warm and the breeze it is just so Spring.

Tomorrow we change the clocks- spring forward. I don't enjoy losing an hour of sleep in the morning, but gaining that extra hour of light is magnificent. When it started to stay light for my drive home from work I was happy, but now I can go to the gym, stop and get dinner and it will still be light when I drive home. That is Spring.

Its still cool in my apartment, the sun hasn't fully seeped in yet, I think it will take a couple more weeks for it to warm up. But when I come home from walks hot from the weather, I can still cool off here. I know I'll be complaining about it being hot in my apartment in a couple of months, so I suppose I can enjoy the coolness now.

Everyone is out doors. I walked through Porter Square yesterday and everyone was outdoors. People are walking down my normally quiet street, they're sitting on sidewalks chatting, talking on porches as their children play on bikes. The postman is even wearing shorts. Guys are tuning up their bikes. Its SPRING.

I believe in...

The feeling of home.

The comfort I get when I drive up the road and see a car in the driveway and a light on upstairs. Knowing, that when I walk in the door it will be just like its always been and if there are any changes I will have helped make them, been instrumental in their making so they'll still feel like home. The delight I feel showing it off to others, this is where I was raised, this is where I come home. How easy the drive home is, although I dislike driving and I hate sitting in traffic, it never feels like too much. How simple things seem when at home.

The feeling after a good nap.

That I'm completely relaxed and at peace in that moment. The taste in your mouth when you wake up. How completely comfortable I am no matter what position I've moved myself into. How soft and comfortable the pillows and blankets feel. How clear my head is, I'm thinking about only one or two things instead of 500.

Plants

How being surrounded by nature and greenery is calming for me. How excited I get to fill my work space and home with them. How rewarding it is to grow plants. How fresh and new a place feels with a new plant. How cheerful fresh flowers can make me feel. That growing plants, having plants, means having sun light coming in. That I never care about ruining a manicure by gardening.

Pictures

That any space is instantly made your own when you hang up pictures. That show and tell can live on through sharing photos. How anything can be blown up to 8X10 or taken in Black and White and its art. That pictures help build a history and a story to tell future generations.

Myself

Loneliness

There's a line/scene in Sex and the City that always struck me. Carrie is at her book release party and her and Charlotte are talking. Carrie says, "I'm lonely. The loneliness is palpable." Charlotte doesn't really say much, kind of looks at her with a sad face. Someone else interrupts them, and then Charlotte just leaves, leaves Carrie alone. This has always struck me for two reasons; one being it is just so true to life-there are often times when you can really reach and grab the loneliness, it takes hold of you in such a strong way its physical, two being why does Charlotte just leave? One of her best friends has just confessed to how alone she's feeling and then you just walk away? It has always disappointed me.

I was thinking about that line a lot today. I'm lonely, and it is palpable. I have a number of little things I usually do to help with loneliness, its something I'm somewhat experienced at having been in a long distance relationship for almost 6 years. I've done all these things, and I'm still not able to move past the loneliness. Usually the longer you do something, the easier it becomes, the more natural it becomes- this is not true with long distance. The longer you're with someone and the more you understand that they are the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, the harder it becomes to cope with being far away from them.

Its wonderful how easy it is to adjust to them visiting for longer periods of time, how easy it is to have them be a part of your usual everyday routine, how quickly you feel comfortable with them beside you in bed and next to you on the couch. And you don't even realize that you've adjusted to it until they are gone and you're left alone and with an empty spot next to you in bed and across from you at the table.

And then, you're just left with the empty feeling, the palpable loneliness. And you know they feel it too, and whining about it to each other can only go so far. And when I'm lonely I usually just want to be alone, to mope about and feel sorry for myself. I know it doesn't do me much good, and that distractions help make the adjustment easier, and yet thinking through it and coming out of the funk on my own is the path I usually take.

So, I think back to being upset about Charlotte's reaction to Carrie's confession and I realize- that as a friend I would never leave someone who'd just told me they were lonely- but as Carrie, I think I'd rather be left alone. And, I don't think I'd ever be in Carrie's situation because I don't usually talk about it when I'm lonely, its the aftermath of being the only one of my friends in a serious relationship for so many years- I always felt guilty talking about being lonely when my friends were still in the process of finding someone. But maybe I should learn to speak up, reach out, maybe this is my way of doing it.

Nevertheless, I'm still lonely.

Driving

Volkswagen says- "On the road of life there are passengers and there are drivers." I know its supposed to excite the drivers out there, attract them to Volkswagen, encourage them to drive VWs.
I own a Volkswagen and prefer to be a passenger, when there is actual driving. Usually I say I don't like driving, but I've come to realize that I don't like being the one doing the driving, and am starting to enjoy being the passenger.

This weekend was the turning point for me. I had my camera out on a car trip and snapped a couple of shots of the typical things you usually drive by and never really look at it. Since I was a passenger I could take the extra time to look at them, through my camera lens, and find the interest in them. One would normally see the wires of a traffic light as blocking the landscape around it, creating a disruption to the nature surrounding the road. Road signs are usually something to glance at and make sure you're following correctly, not a piece of artistic interest to delight you on your journey.

On this particular part of the road of life, I am glad I got to be a passenger.

Agita

I first learned the word in 1998. I was counselor for 15 11-12 year olds. They were a precocious bunch. The other counselors and I would walk around saying, "You're giving us agita!" I joined the bunk half way through the summer, and thus just picked up the word and its general meaning without any real clarification. One of the more unruly campers had a name similar to the word, all I can remember is us calling her Agita for the summer, her given name escapes me.

I've since used the word sporadically over the last several years, always just assuming it was a descriptor for unease, nervous stomach, an unsettling feeling. I have in fact passed it on to others as a great word for describing anxiety caused by others or events out of your control.

Over the last year I'd started to learn that it really meant indigestion. In fact when googled the only related result you get is a message board about prilosec where the string was titled Agita.

Monday night I was seized with overwhelming anxiety as a result of circumstances that were beginning to move out of my control. I wanted to say to others the next morning, "I had wicked ajada last night." But stopped myself. Did I really? Did I have indigestion? No. However, the word still seemed the perfect way to describe it. Saying I was anxious didn't capture it for me, I wasn't nervous, I wasn't worried, I just had agita.

So, I got to thinking did it matter that it meant indigestion, do most people even know the definition? I'd convinced many friends over the years of my definition, maybe in fact it was okay if I kept using it that way. The empty google search convinced me even more that I could use it however I wanted, google didn't have any way of proving me wrong. On the other hand, it wasn't backing me up either.

In the end, I think people will get it if I use it, and if they don't I can explain... "Well it means indigestion, but I use it to describe an unsettling feeling, or anxious stomach, cause really, doesn't Agita just sound so much better?"

UPDATE:

Thanks to Mom and Jen- the correct spelling is Agita and below I've pasted what I found on a great website- Word Detective

Dear Word Detective: What is the Italian or Yiddish word for heartburn? I grew up hearing my parents saying "argada," but since I've moved to the South no one seems to believe it's actually a word. Help! -- Kelly, via the internet.

Tell me about it. Ever since I moved to rural Ohio from New York City a few years ago, I've been getting funny looks from people whenever I use standard New-Yorkisms such as "go figure" or "fugeddaboudit." Of course, they also think "bialy" is a breed of dog, so I guess it's hopeless.

In any case, the word your parents were using was almost certainly "agita." You won't find "agita" in most dictionaries, although it is a quintessential Italian-American slang word. Strictly speaking, "agita" is a stomach upset or heartburn. But "agita" can also mean that special kind of existential dyspepsia of the soul you get when absolutely everything goes wrong. Comedian Jackie Mason has explained "agita" as "when you have been aggravated to the point where it feels like you have a serious migraine headache throughout your whole body." "Agita" is thus more or less the Italian-American equivalent of the Yiddish "tsuris" ("misery"), an equation not lost on Woody Allen, who made a song about "agita" the centerpiece of his 1984 film "Broadway Danny Rose."

"Agita" is not a standard Italian word, and linguists are not certain where came from. One possible source is the Italian word "agitare" ("to agitate" or "to trouble"), which in turn came from the Latin "agitare," which meant "to stir up." To be "agitato" in Italy is to be very excited, and a musical score marked "agitato" is intended to be played at a frenzied pace. But it's also possible that the source is "acido" (pronounced "AH-chee-do"), Italian for "stomach acid," which then possibly became "agita" ("AH-jih-ta") over time. Whatever the source, "agita" seems to have arrived in New York with Italian immigrants around the turn of the century, and has been in constant use, especially in places like New York City, ever since.