MamaTarot. That’s Me!

Oh I’ll still be MamaTattoo.  But now I’ve added something to that.  I’ve been reading cards since I was 10, which is the same time I had begun to hear voices.  Yes, I thought I was nuts.  But the voices were generally right, even if they were a little bit rude.


Step right up!!!

My goal is to stay home and be with Kiddo for as long as I can.  I have had no health insurance since losing my job a year and a half ago, and I’m okay with that part as long as I can provide for her.  And I think it’s time to return to my roots and read for people.  I’m good at it, and I don’t overcharge.  So when you have a moment, please check out my new blog at MamaTarot.  I’d greatly appreciate it!

queen with gun

🙂  Have a great weekend!

My Home Town – A Hidden Former Nuclear Site?

This is the town that I live in.  I grew up here, left as soon as I could to head to NYC (with lots of weird stops along the way in Brooklyn, New Jersey, Upper Manhattan, Christopher Street and ultimately, back to Long Island and finally buying a house 2 blocks from where I grew up.

I cannot even begin to tell you about the loss of life that plagues my town.  I think this is probably why….and I didn’t know anything about it.  Until today.  I want to help spread the word about these two men and what’s happened to them and so many others.  Please feel free to share – thank you.  The article is below.

Former Hicksville Nuclear Site Leaves Sick Employees Seeking Justice | Long Island Press.

It’s FIFA, Fool!

My husband is from Italy. He’s actually from Naples, and I know that makes a difference to most Italians, especially the Milan population. When I go to Italy, I get to see the interiors of two, maybe three apartments and the view from those balconies. It’s irritating, but that’s what happens. I’ve dreamed of Venice since I was little. I have always wanted to go there, at least once. Rome? Are you kidding me? The subtle star of my favorite Fellini movies? Oh yes please. One day. Florence – where art was pretty much born and nurtured? Yeah, never been there either. Not even Capri or Sicily. Next time we go, maybe I’ll just go “missing” and actually see some of the country!

Just down the street from his mom’s apartment is the official Team Napoli shop. To me, that was amazingly cool. I was the hip American who knew to call the sport football rather than SocKerrrrrrrrrrrr. I could watch Beckham bend anything he likes and grew up loving Pele. My husband was not interested in going into the shop. He did not want to buy a jersey/shirt or a ball. I finally convinced him to and it was a whole lot of fun and where we got many souvenirs for our friends and coworkers.

There has been minimal interest in football from him. Until Alessandro and Nello arrived for a visit! All of a sudden, he became kind of Italian again in the presence of his two friends, and they watched football and had a blast. Now that they’re back in Spain and the UK respectively, my husband has become a junky. His addiction is PlayStation 3 FIFA 13. It’s clearly like crack to him, and he plays it, yells all kinds of bizarre Napolitan curses, tells his players to dance and other basically crazy shit.

It’s nice to see him happy. And I happily love it when he goes to work!fifa


Goodness Graciousness


American Thanksgiving. I love it, even though I see it through cynical eyes at times. Yes, we love to shop and buy and watch junk tv. We are concerned about Twinkies and Kim Kardashian, yet most of us know next to nothing about the Israel/Palestine struggle (and that apparently includes KK).

But we also care about each other, and lots of strangers help other strangers on a fairly constant basis. Hurricane Sandy and 911 are two examples of how surreal it can be to live here in New York, where people are supposed to be such assholes. We’re not. We’re tough, but we’re kind. Oh sure, we have more serial killers than any other country, but, you know, we’re…bigger. Lots more room for nut jobs to roam free. I’m thankful for the non-nut jobs.

I’m sitting here, simultaneously baking two pumpkin pies in my very own oven and typing on our computer, in my own house, that I never thought I’d have. I get to look out on my backyard during the day and I literally get choked up sometimes, because I was certain I’d spend the rest of my life renting a crappy apartment somewhere that I didn’t belong. Never did I think I’d move back to the town that spawned me. Never did I think I’d have my own home, let alone a child that exceeds any expectation I could ever have had for a child. I’m unemployed, but I have a husband that works hard and would prefer for me to stay home if that’s what I ultimately want. We are all healthy, and we love each other in a very dysfunctional way.

I’m grateful. Happy Thanksgiving.


2012 is a kind of brutal year. The election we just survived is a prime example (as were the hurricane last week, and this nice snowstorm as an added bonus). But I have to say that my eyes are opened in a way I wish they hadn’t been. Many Facebook friends whom I was happy to reconnect with after many years have said some incredibly insensitive, inflammatory and to boil it all down, stupid things on their walls. I’d like to ignore it. Trust me, I would. But some things just can’t be glossed over or looked away from.

There are many people who are from my town that are Republican / Conservative. I am wannabe Green Party, but Jill Stein kept getting arrested and couldn’t get her word spread, and I’m not sure we ever got any indictation of foreign policy stances, so I gave up on her. I’m sorry, but you have to get those funds rolling in and you must be taken seriously. In full disclosure, my dream would be to have a committed group of candidates running as the Working Families Party on a ballot, but that’s not what you get. You get the full Democrat list with maybe one difference on a local level.

I swear to you that I do not care if you’re a Republican, Conservative, Democrat, Liberal, Green Party, Libertarian or even Tea Party (well, I care a little about that last one, but not enough to blindly insult anyone who choses to vote that way). All I really care about is how you treat human beings and animals. A few of the people on my friends list that I’m talking about were once bully-ish. I thought that they’d all outgrown that and moved on, but sadly that’s not reality. Yet, I know for a fact that they’d give you the shirt off their back if you needed it, friend or stranger. But to faceless “others”, I guess they can’t push the compassion to that magnitude. And that’s okay too. I just really don’t want it in my face. But because of the entire rest of who they are, I’m keeping them around. Maybe they’ll mellow with age, but most likely they won’t. And that’s okay too. Lesson learned – don’t lean heavily on Facebook around election time.

Let me just say that I have not been singled out. This is about posts on people’s walls or responses to mutual friends that get my skin crawling. And now I feel all bettah!! 🙂

I Love Self Portraits. Of Monkeys. They Rule. PLUS – My Own Monkey Story!

Say cheese: The monkeys were intrigued by their reflection in the camera lens

Monkey Steals Camera, Takes a Series of Self-Portraits – StumbleUpon.

I have a quick monkey story. Kiddo loves to hear it.

Monkeys, well, they like me.  I don’t know why.  I shower and shave, so they can’t think I’m their mother, but that’s kinda how they act.  Anyway, back in the old days, a/k/a The Eighties, I was heading home from work on a hot summer day in the West Village.  There was a Mr Softee Ice Cream truck that was begging me to stop, and so I did.  I had an ice cream cone and was now very happily walking toward the subway station.

But just before the entrance, a man was hustling for some money.  He was saying something about working as security for a lab at a university, and how he couldn’t tolerate what he’d seen being done to animals.  So I reached into my pocket for some change for him when I stepped up toward the hat/box/money container/whatever it was, and found myself looking straight into the eyes of a small monkey.  In a diaper.  I was hunched over, frozen in time, staring into the most incredibly innocent yet wicked and very intelligent eyes.  It then occured to me that this dude had rescued a young specimen from a terrible fate.  That’s when he grabbed me.

This little freakazoid grabbed my arm and climbed up so fast I couldn’t believe it.  What flashed through my mind? Is he going to bite my face?  Is he going to rip my hair out?  I didn’t know, so like the girl I was, and still am, I closed my eyes in terror.

Nothing happened.

When I opened them, he was sitting on my arm with one of his arms around my neck.  His other arm was extended, and his little monkey hand was on mine.  I thought, my God! This is amazing!  And then of course he tilted my hand, tilted his head, looked into my eyes, and ate my ice cream cone.

I couldn’t help it.  I started laughing.  The fear was gone entirely.  He was the cutest thing ever, but I really didn’t know if ice cream was going to hurt him, so I asked the guy.  He apologized and offered to buy me another ice cream cone and I told him he was an idiot if he really thought that’s what I wanted.  We didn’t know if the ice cream would end up giving him the runs, but he was deliriously happy, and there wasn’t all that much since he’d accidentally pushed most of it to the ground, so he got the treat.  When he was finished,  he gave me an icy cold monkey kiss on the face which was followed with a smile.  And in the end, I got the best treat of all!

Sublime Sibling Submission


So, did I tell you about my sister? She was the one who kickety kicked the screen door down in our hotel room while we were on vacation in Lake George. Well, I’d like to tell you a little more about her.

My sister is 9 years older than I am. She also has 9 times the energy I have. She and Kiddo are bffs. She’s a very conservative type person, very logical, very responsible. However, she has become this odd virtual hippy in terms of commitment or planning.

If you say “hey, you wanna see a movie on Saturday?” (by the way, we don’t do this. Movies are a huge ass treat, and are always child-centric). She’ll say “It’s Tuesday. How can I tell you about Saturday?” But in my mind, I’ve begun to hear this – “Hey man, chill. I have no idea what the flow will be on Saturday, dig? I gotta check the mood factor and if the weather is nice, I don’t want to sit in a dark movie theater man. We need to be in nature!” I’m not a huge fan of the outdoors, even though I wish I was.

But it becomes a real problem in other aspects. Should someone want a playdate with Kiddo, I say something like “Kiddo is supposed to be home by 4 so she can play with Play-Doh Head.” My sister will say, “Really? Can’t you change it?” And I’ll say “well, no.” And she’ll say “Great. Then we can’t do such and such”. And I’ll say “You never told me about such and such”. And she’ll say “Do I have to tell you everything?”

I would like to give you a scenario, if I may, of how things happen nearly every (fucking) weekend.
Me: “Hey!”
Her: “Hello. Where do you want to go?”
Me: “I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”
Her: “Oh for Christ’s sake. Just tell me where you want to go”
Me: “Okay, how about Ihop?”
Her: “No. We’re going to the diner. Ihop sucks.”

It’s as if there is this cosmic joke made to make me feel like my opinion or choice might actually matter on this particular weekend. And then, it is cruelly smashed to the side of the road, as if tossed out the window of my sister’s Toyota. And let me just give you one more insight. If I should make plans (for me to actually go out of the house with another human or two) on a weekend night, and we’ve set up a sleepover for Kiddo, I never have any idea when she’ll pick Kiddo up. It’s like Russian Roulette. It’s good that I have no social life!!!

One more little item for your amusement.  We went out east on Long Island with our two Italian houseguests. My sister came as well.  Whilst sitting in a little cafe having a cup of tea, I noticed that people were holding my gaze and looking at me more than usual.  So I said, “Do I look weird today? People are kind of staring at me”, and she said “Hmmm, I don’t know.  Maybe it’s that you’re a grown woman wearing a zombie t-shirt and shorts in October?”  This was met with a semi icy look, so she said, in her defense, “WHAT??  You asked me!”  (In fairness, she didn’t say “grown woman”, but it was implied!)

And to sum it all up, let me say that she’s my best friend on the planet and I love her dearly.  Even when I want to strangle her!