Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Today is my birthday - here's a free chapter for you! And please download my new ebook. Thanks for making 48 great! (OK, tolerable.)


Free! Chapter 1 House of Cards by Kim Stagliano

Click HERE to purchase House of Cards for just $2.99. Please "like" the book on Facebook and when you're done reading, leave a review. Once purchased, you can lend the book to a friend using the new Amazon lending program. And you can download to lots of devices - iPhone, computer, Blackberry, Droid and more. You can find the Kindle Apps HERE.

Chapter 1

The cloying smell of a caramel apple wrapped in candy floss announced that Janelle Goldman from accounting lurked near my cube. I don’t know when perfumers decided to drop the millennia-old floral concept and replace it with the scents of food groups favored by small children (like vanilla, strawberry and the ouch-my-teeth-ache sugary aroma of Janelle’s so-called “perfume”). If I wanted to smell like candy all day, I’d let the damn M&M’s melt in my hands, not in my mouth. She was looking for my time sheet, and I was nowhere near finishing it. As usual.

I turned to my computer, pretending to get down to the drudgery of writing press releases for the planet’s most boring company, in the hopes that Janelle would see a busy little bee and leave me alone. Or at least toddle off to report to my boss, Margaret, that I was hard at work. Janelle is such a boss’s pet. Two weeks ago, I’d been summonsed into the corner office for a dressing-down over late projects, unbilled hours, and an unfortunate difference of opinion on what constitutes a full work-day. Janelle didn’t bother to hide her glee that I’d been put on probation.

There’s no good way (or time) to lose your job. From this I know. About eighteen months ago, I earned an “early retirement” from a competing PR firm for late projects, unbilled hours and—well, you get the point.

I wasn’t looking forward to another pink slip.

As Miss Hostess Snowball and her saccharine bouquet drifted off, I breathed a sigh of relief and got back to business: my own. I logged onto online banking. Checking accounts are similar to the press releases I write, in that red ink on the screen means “you need to change this.” Only I couldn’t edit my checkbook into the black. My car payment had bounced by $7.32. Close, but Nissan Motor Acceptance Corp. was not going to cut me any slack. The rent had cleared. Thank God I’d paid it as soon as direct deposit hit my account. The Maxima was too small to live in, and I loved my house.

The paltry $65 in my wallet had to last until the next pay day, which was (I clicked to my calendar) eleven days off. I transferred $200 from my dwindling savings account into my checking to cover the car payment and my cell phone bill, again breaking my promise to my parents that I’d tidy up my finances.

Oh, well. I always managed to land on my feet and walk away whistling. This month’s worries would work themselves out too.

My name is Kat Cavicchio, and I’m the youngest in a family of four kids. I call my sisters and brother “good, better and best.” You can see where that leaves me. I’m the only female in two generations to have been divorced. I had split with my college sweetheart at age twenty-eight after three “un” years with him. Unhappy. Unfaithful. Unreproductive (thank God.) I dumped every reminder of him possible, including his ludicrous last name—Sprenkle. What the hell was I thinking when I married him anyway? Kat Sprenkle. It sounded like a brand of kitty litter.

Despite her liberal bent, my mother lived in fear that I’d never find another husband and would end up lonely and poor. You can take the Italian out of the old country, but blah, blah, blah.

My constant money woes troubled my father, who had never made a fortune as a college professor but had taken appropriate care of his finances, allowing us kids to have a happy childhood, and him and Mom a comfortable pre-retirement. I had a tendency to eat more meals in his kitchen than my own, which was all the proof he needed of my near-insolvency. He was concerned that I’d hit up my 401K money once my savings were gone. I was about six months shy of calling Fidelity. I’d have to put off quitting my job until another day, or decade, unless my next interview panned out.

With any luck (except my own), my days of writing press releases for Acme were coming to an end. No more writing sentences like: “Acme Computer Systems seamlessly integrates high-level platforms, software, and services into high-value, low-risk information infrastructure solutions that help organizations maximize the value of their information assets and automate more of their overall infrastructure.” Can anyone actually read a sentence like that without drifting into the ozone?

I was actively looking for a new job. How long can a girl dream up gobbledygook for dry-as-toast clients? In Boston, where I was born and raised, a huge chunk of the available biz was in the medical, biotech or software industries.

I wanted to work for a consumer-goods company. You know—write about a product I could actually use and understand. But there weren’t any tanning-bed companies in Massachusetts. By the grace of God, and monster.com, I’d just spotted the perfect job opening at a toy company that had relocated its sales and marketing staff from Providence, Rhode Island to a new office complex, minutes from my house in Newton, a suburb west of the city.

The mere thought of not having to ride the lumbering 502 bus from Newton Corner into Copley Square every day made me smile. The bus itself wasn’t so bad, thanks to my Sirius app, but the 15-minute walk from Adams Terrace up to the bus stop in rain and snow was tedious.

The prospect of free toys was also appealing. Most of my friends were popping out babies with alarming regularity, and my sisters each had two of their own. Every month, it seemed there was a birth, birthday, Hanukah or Christmas, all requiring a gift from old Auntie Kat. Plus, the salary at the toy company was $17,000 more than I was making on the agency side. That’s a lot of toys. And black coffee for me.

I packed up my bag and headed into the lobby to sneak out for my interview, hoping to avoid my boss. My luck held until the elevator doors opened, revealing a heavy-set older woman in a khaki-colored pashmina that encircled her bulging torso like a boa constrictor.

“Kat! Off for an early lunch?”

“Er, hi, Margaret. No, I have a dentist appointment today. I sent you an email, and I have my laptop, so I can work on the Pettengill new product release from home.”

“Of course. Goodness, your teeth have been bothering you lately, haven’t they?”

BUSTED. Think fast.

“It’s my wisdom teeth. I might have to have them pulled. The dentist referred me to an oral surgeon, so I’ve had a couple of appointments. I’ll call you later.”

As the doors closed, I sighed. I needed another story to cover my interviews. By now I could have had a full set of dentures.

Once I escaped my office, I walked to the parking garage on St. James, enjoying the crisp fall air. Since the 502 non-stop bus only runs at rush hour, I had to drive in and park on interview days. I grabbed a twenty-dollar bill from my purse to cover the exorbitant daily parking fee. “Hi, Gus,” I said to my beloved, white Nissan Maxima. Gus was four years old, and I still had another year’s worth of payments. I needed the job at Child’s Eye Toy Company.

The sky was bright blue and the temp hovered around 50 degrees, a perfect late-autumn morning. We’d be peeling off layers by 2 PM., as Indian summer warmed the final days before winter started encasing us in freezing gloom. Cruising out the Mass Turnpike west, toward the hotel over the highway that marked my exit, I groped for my Bluetooth in my purse to call my pal Connie Waldstrup.

“Hi, Kat, what’s up? I’m between meetings for a few minutes.” Connie was a lawyer with one the biggest firms in Boston.

“I’m on my way home for my interview and thought I’d check in. I’m a little nervous.”

Connie laughed. “With your interview track record you ought to be. You need to relax and just be yourself. Or maybe just be a quieter version of yourself. You tend to ramble, Kat. You’d die a thousand deaths in a courtroom.”

“That’s why I didn’t go to law school, but thanks for the Dear Abby moment, Miss Smarty Pants. And listen to you—you haven’t had to interview since Harvard. Trust me, it sucks. I get flustered and my mouth takes over my brain. Damn!”

“What’s up? Traffic?

“No, there’s a car in my spot. I’m home. I’ll catch up with you after my interview.”

“Good luck, Kat.”

Adams Terrace was a dead end, with two duplexes on it. Since college, I’d lived happily in one half of the first duplex. It was a tight squeeze when I was married; my ex-husband Jeff took up far too much space just by standing in a room. The house was perfect for a single, not-so-tall gal like me, with five rooms, including a cozy master bedroom (especially since I was the master) and a slant-roofed, third-floor aerie.

My mother’s grandparents had lived in this very house as newlyweds, when they first came to Boston from New York back in 1916. Their marriage had stood the test of time a hell of a lot better than mine. Then again, the lifespan of the fruit fly was longer than my marriage. How they had seven kids in the tiny duplex was beyond me. My great-grandfather found a job in a knitting mill in Fall River, and they moved out of Newton shortly after my grandfather, Augustus Romano, turned six. Mr. D’Alessandro, my landlord, who lived in the duplex next door, had been Papa’s playmate back when there was a chicken coop and coal bin in the yard. Mr. D, as we called him, was a lifer in “The Lake,” which is what people called Nonantum, the Italian section of Newton.

The other half of my duplex was inhabited by interchangeable college kids, who came and went with the semesters. Once I’d crossed thirty a couple of birthdays ago, even the good-looking guys became less interesting to me, and I’d become invisible to them.

Mr. D., a nonagenarian widower whose fading memory meant I could pay my rent a few days late when necessary, was leaning against the railing on the stoop of his house just a car’s width away from mine.

“Hi, Mr. D., how are you today?”

“Not too good, Katharina. Not too good. My son is here…” That explained the car. Rocco, the jerk, was in from New York. Rocco was like a velvet Elvis painting come to life. He wore a jet-black toupee, a Diamonique stud in one ear, and a gold chain that could have tethered the QEII to a dock. He was in his early sixties and claimed to have made his money in produce. Only if they sold oranges at the Belmont Park race track, I figured. I had to go through Rocco to get anything fixed in my house. Rocco thought I’d repay him for his work in warm, soft currency.

Like the time right after my ex-husband moved out, when my dishwasher broke, and Rocco schlepped up from New York to confirm that I wasn’t just angling for the thrill of a new Kitchen Aid before he authorized the repair.

“Hi, Rocco,” I’d said. “Come on in. Mind the puddle on the floor.”

“Usually the puddle is there after I’m done,” he answered with a creepy leer.

I shot him a dirty look and went back to washing the dishes in the sink. I thought he’d just open the dishwasher, pronounce it dead and go back to his dad’s.

“I think I can fix this, Kat. Just let me reach under the sink here to…”

“Get your freaking hands out from between my legs, Rocco!”

The guy had a double-digit cringe factor. But his Dad was a nice old man and we considered him family. Rocco? Not so much.

Mr. D’Alessandro’s reedy voice trailed off, and he raised his hand to stop himself from saying any more. “OK, Mr. D., I’ll talk to you soon.” I smiled at him and darted into my house to freshen up for my interview.

My closet was crammed with clothes, half on hangers, half shoved on shelves. Why line up the clothes perfectly if you’re just going to pull them down in a few days? Let’s see, what’s the best choice to wear to a toy-company interview? I opted for a navy dress with matching swing jacket and added knee-high boots with a medium heel to up the funk factor. The jacket hid the fact that the dress was loose on me. I’d lost a few pounds off my 5’3” frame, dropping to 111 pounds, and I’m not bragging. I have uncooperative curly brown hair that’s only revered in New Jersey malls, circa 1988, and my feet are an ungainly size 8. When I get too skinny, I resemble a Q-tip with feet.

Twenty minutes later, I skipped out to my car only to find I’d been partially blocked in by a gleaming Lexus SUV. The driveway hadn’t seen that much traffic since Mr. D’Alessandro had set his pot of linguine on fire two months ago, and half the Newton fire department showed up. I squeezed past the SUV, aware that it cost more than I made in a year. I caught sight of the license plate which read, “ISEL4U.” A realtor? Plus the greedy son and the failing landlord who occasionally thought I was Katherine Hepburn? Uh oh…

***



House of Cards 200 pixelsKim Stagliano is Managing Editor of Age of Autism. Her new novel, House of Cards; A All I Can Handle 50 pixel Kat Cavicchio romantic suspense is available from Amazon in all e-formats now. Her memoir, All I Can Handle I'm No Mother Teresa is available in hardcover, paperback and e-book.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011


House of Cards: A Novel by Kim Stagliano

http://www.amazon.com/House-of-Cards-ebook/dp/B006OBWG0Q

A new novel (Fiction! I get to kill people!) by moi. Just $2.99 and guaranteed to make you laugh out loud. Please click the FaceBook LIKE button on Amazon, even if you don't download it today - and if you do? Please leave a shiny, happy review! That really helps sales, and I'd appreciate your help. Happy New Year. KIM

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Merry Christmas!



Did you get a Kindle? Other cool device? iPad, Droid, new computer or Mac? Download my new romantic suspense novel, House of Cards today! Just $
2.99.Download here!

Friday, December 23, 2011


Merry Christmas! My Buche du Noel.

Gluten free, dairy free chocolate log cake - always wanted to make one!

Thursday, December 22, 2011

House of Cards 200 pixelsKim Stagliano Presents House of Cards A Romantic Suspense Novel

I'm grinning from ear to ear: "It's a book!" House of Cards, a funny, fast paced romantic suspense is now available in e-book format. (Paperback in 2012.) The book is pure fiction - not my life - been there, wrote the book (ha ha All I Can Handle the Memoir). I hope that House of Cards will be another way to tell the world about the autism epidemic and what it does to an entire family - in a zany, fast paced chick lit style format. And well, I got to kill someone finally, and that ain't bad!

Click HERE to purchase House of Cards for just $2.99. Please "like" the book on Facebook and when you're done reading, leave a review. Once purchased, you can lend the book to a friend using the new Amazon lending program. And you can download to lots of devices - iPhone, computer, Blackberry, Droid and more. You can find the Kindle Apps HERE.

Here's a taste:

My name is Kat Cavicchio, and I’m the youngest in a family of four kids. I call my sisters and brother “good, better and best.” You can see where that leaves me. I’m the only female in two generations to have been divorced. I had split with my college sweetheart at age twenty-eight after three “un” years with him. Unhappy. Unfaithful. Unreproductive (thank God.) I dumped every reminder of him possible, including his ludicrous last name—Sprenkle. What the hell was I thinking when I married him anyway? Kat Sprenkle. It sounded like a brand of kitty litter.

Despite her liberal bent, my mother lived in fear that I’d never find another husband and would end up lonely and poor. You can take the Italian out of the old country, but blah, blah, blah.

My constant money woes troubled my father, who had never made a fortune as a college professor but had taken appropriate care of his finances, allowing us kids to have a happy childhood, and him and Mom a comfortable pre-retirement. I had a tendency to eat more meals in his kitchen than my own, which was all the proof he needed of my near-insolvency. He was concerned that I’d hit up my 401K money once my savings were gone. I was about six months shy of calling Fidelity. I’d have to put off quitting my job until another day, or decade, unless my next interview panned out.

With any luck (except my own), my days of writing press releases for Acme were coming to an end. No more writing sentences like: “Acme Computer Systems seamlessly integrates high-level platforms, software, and services into high-value, low-risk information infrastructure solutions that help organizations maximize the value of their information assets and automate more of their overall infrastructure.” Can anyone actually read a sentence like that without drifting into the ozone?

I was actively looking for a new job. How long can a girl dream up gobbledygook for dry-as-toast clients? In Boston, where I was born and raised, a huge chunk of the available biz was in the medical, biotech or software industries.


I wanted to work for a consumer-goods company. You know—write about a product I could actually use and understand. But there weren’t any tanning-bed companies in Massachusetts. By the grace of God, and monster.com, I’d just spotted the perfect job opening at a toy company that had relocated its sales and marketing staff from Providence, Rhode Island to a new office complex, minutes from my house in Newton, a suburb west of the city.

The mere thought of not having to ride the lumbering 502 bus from Newton Corner into Copley Square every day made me smile. The bus itself wasn’t so bad, thanks to my Sirius app, but the 15-minute walk from Adams Terrace up to the bus stop in rain and snow was tedious.

The prospect of free toys was also appealing. Most of my friends were popping out babies with alarming regularity, and my sisters each had two of their own. Every month, it seemed there was a birth, birthday, Hanukah or Christmas, all requiring a gift from old Auntie Kat. Plus, the salary at the toy company was $17,000 more than I was making on the agency side. That’s a lot of toys. And black coffee for me.

I packed up my bag and headed into the lobby to sneak out for my interview, hoping to avoid my boss. My luck held until the elevator doors opened, revealing a heavy-set older woman in a khaki-colored pashmina that encircled her bulging torso like a boa constrictor.

“Kat! Off for an early lunch?”

“Er, hi, Margaret. No, I have a dentist appointment today. I sent you an email, and I have my laptop, so I can work on the Pettengill new product release from home.”

“Of course. Goodness, your teeth have been bothering you lately, haven’t they?”


BUSTED. Think fast.

“It’s my wisdom teeth. I might have to have them pulled. The dentist referred me to an oral surgeon, so I’ve had a couple of appointments. I’ll call you later.”

As the doors closed, I sighed. I needed another story to cover my interviews. By now I could have had a full set of dentures.

Click HERE to purchase House of Cards for just $2.99. Please "like" the book on Facebook and when you're done reading, leave a review. Once purchased, you can lend the book to a friend using the new Amazon lending program. And you can download to lots of devices - iPhone, computer, Blackberry, Droid and more.

House of Cards 200 pixelsKim Stagliano is Managing Editor of Age of Autism. Her new novel, House of Cards; A All I Can Handle 50 pixel Kat Cavicchio romantic suspense is available from Amazon in all e-formats now. Her memoir, All I Can Handle I'm No Mother Teresa is available in hardcover, paperback and e-book.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Vaccine Nation Kindle CoverBest Selling Thriller on Kindle Vaccine Nation by David Lender

Congratulations to David Lender, whose Amazon e-book Vaccine Nation reached #1 in the Legal Thrillers category and is #2 at the time of this writing. Download yours today. If you don't have an e-reader, the paper version will be out after the first of the year.

David Lender is the bestselling author of thrillers based on his over 25-year career as a Wall Street investment banker. He draws on an insider’s knowledge from his career in mergers and acquisitions with Merrill Lynch, Rothschild and Bank of America for the international settings, obsessively driven personalities and real-world financial intrigues of his novels. His characters range from David Baldacci-like corporate power brokers to Elmore Leonard-esque misfits and scam artists. His plots reveal the egos and ruthlessness that motivate the players in the business world, as well as the inner workings of the most powerful of our financial institutions and corporations.

Check out the Vaccine Nation premise:

Dani North is a filmmaker who just won at the Tribeca Film Festival for her documentary, The Drugging of Our Children, a film critical of the pharmaceutical industry. She’s also just started work on a new documentary on autism. When a pharmaceutical industry vaccine researcher hands her “smoking gun” evidence about the national vaccination program seconds before he’s murdered right in front of her, Dani finds herself implicated and pursued by the police.

Dani realizes what she’s been handed could have crucial implications on upcoming hearings by a Senate committee. A key issue the Senate committee will consider is whether Congress should continue the immunity it granted in 1986 to the pharmaceutical industry for claims by parents on damage to their children from the U.S. National Immunization Program. That puts Dani on the run in a race to understand and expose the evidence. That is, before the police can grab her, or Grover Madsen, a megalomaniacal pharmaceutical industry CEO, can have her hunted down by his hired killers. Madsen knows exactly what Dani has and how explosive it is for the pharmaceutical industry: it has the potential to make the tobacco industry’s lawsuits and subsequent multi-billion dollar settlements seem like routine slip-and-fall cases. Madsen uses all his company’s political and financial resources to track Dani.

Vaccine Nation is a fast-paced thriller about an award-winning documentary filmmaker who is handed “whistleblower” evidence about the U.S. vaccination program, and then races to expose it before a megalomaniacal drug company CEO can have her killed.

Visit David's website to read about all of his books and to read the first chapter of Vaccine Nation. Tell your family and friends to download the book too, so it remains on the list of Kindle recommendations throughout the holiday season. Is fiction stranger than the truth?

Mia before regressionBIRTHDAY

Yesterday was my daughter's 17th birthday. We celebrated with cake and presents, like any other family. She delighted in her Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer snow monster toy that shakes and sings Holly Jolly Christmas (another Stop & Shop present, and you know what I mean if you've read my book.) She glanced at the Love's Baby Soft perfume set. We helped her open her cards from family.


She is seventeen years old. Here she is on the day she was born. I was two weeks away from my 31st birthday. A friend posed a question on Facebook last month, "If you could be anywhere at anytime of your life, where would you be?" My answer is in that photo. The moment Mia was born was the happiest of my life, bar none.

Mia's birthMia developed right on time. She knew her alphabet before two. Could count to twenty. Looked at me with her big blue eyes. I vaccinated her on schedule. I was never told a thing about the risks. The consequences. It never occured to me I could be harming her, even as her pediatrician noted a distinct change in her head shape and made notes to "watch left side," but never told me or her Dad. We found his notes in the pediatric records we ordered when we moved to a new city. By two we knew we were losing her to something. By three we were in Early Intervention. By four she was diagnosed with autism.

When I was seventeeen I was a senior in high school. Mia is in "tenth" grade. Friends and I giggled at this Rick James song - understanding the lyrics were a bit naughty. I had a boyfriend, my driver's license and felt as grown up as could be, ah seventeen.




This morning, Mia was watching this before school.




Miss-spider-s-tea-party-for-the-iphone-ipod-touch-screenshot-1In grade school I read a book from the 1940s that has remained a fond memory. It was about a Seventeenth summer girl's first love, called Seventeeth Summer, by Maureen Daly. At age 10 or 11, 17 seemed so grown up to me. Mia is loving a counting story called Miss Spider's Tea Party on the iPad.





Mia's first word was "Grover," the furry blue monster from Sesame Street. A year ago I met Bob McGrath from Sesame Street ("Who are the people in your neighborhood?", Bob) while out for dinner in Manhattan. I burst into tears telling him what the show has meant to our family, and how Mia still watches, long after the ABC's should have turned into the birds and the bees.


Bob McGrath


I've been making gluten free birthday cakes for over a decade. I'll make them until my gnarled Mia 17hands can no longer switch on the oven. For Mia. For Gianna. For Bella.

I was sad yesterday. I even cried a few times as I remembered the brief period when Mark and I were just new parents of a bouncing baby girl, and not autism parents. Today I'm fine. Mia will be OK and we'll give her the best life we can. We adore our girls, and we have a good life, if different.

I've picked myself up, brushed myself off and started all over again with my regular day. Until July 11, when Gianna turns 16....


All I Can Handle 50 pixelKim Stagliano is Managing Editor of Age of Autism and author of All I Can Handle I'm No Mother Teresa available in hardcover, paperback and Kindle/ebook.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Baby Belle

2002?? Lord I can't recall. Just as well.  Long haul. Very long haul. And miles to go before I sleep to quote my Dad's favorite poem.


Growing Up.

Teen girls....  On G's closet door.


Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Jim Himes Shares The True Meaning of Thanksgiving

Thank you to Congressman Jim Himes (CT, D) for sending this email.

Dear Friends,

As we prepare for the upcoming holiday and anticipate warm reunions with friends and families, I urge those of you who are able to join me in helping our less fortunate neighbors. I have listed below by town a number of local food banks that are in need of donations. Best wishes for a lovely holiday.

Thanks,
Jim

BRIDGEPORT

Bridgeport Rescue Mission
1088 Fairfield Avenue, Bridgeport
(203) 333-4087
www.bridgeportrescuemission.org
Tuesday-Saturday: 8:00am-6:00pm
Donations may be brought to 1050 Fairfield Ave; accepts donations of clothing, personal hygiene items, food, and blankets to distribute to the homeless

Bridgeport Health and Social Services-Veterans Affairs Office
752 East Main Street, Room 180, Bridgeport
(203) 576-7978
http://www.bridgeportct.gov
Monday, Tuesday, Friday: 9:00am-2:00pm
Accepts donations of nonperishable food and gift certificates

Calvary Saint George's Food Pantry and Soup Kitchen
755 Clinton Avenue, Bridgeport
(203) 333-5116 ext. 150
www.calvarystgeorges.com
Tuesday and Thursday: 9:30-11:30am
Church accepts donations of food for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays; accepts food items including non-perishable food and baby food

Cesar Batalla Family Resource Center
606 Howard Avenue, Bridgeport
(203) 579-8526
Monday-Friday: 8:00am-3:00pm
Accepts donations of clothing and nonperishable food

Dunbar School Family Resource Center
445 Union Avenue, Bridgeport
(203) 332-5658
Monday-Friday: 9:00am-4:00pm
Accepts donations of books and magazines, clothing, food, household goods (dishes, cookware, linens, and furniture), infant goods, office equipment/supplies, personal care supplies, school supplies and toys

Holy Rosary Roman Catholic Church Food Pantry
365 East Washington Avenue, Bridgeport
(203) 334-2447
Tuesday: 11:00am-12:30pm
Accepts donations of non-perishable food items

Iglesia Pentecostal El Olivar Food Pantry
1241 Barnum Avenue, Bridgeport
(203) 913-1417
Tuesday and Wednesday: 9:30-11:30am
Accepts donations of non-perishable food for the food pantry

King's Pantry
30 Florence Street, Bridgeport
(203) 335-9255
Monday-Friday: 10:30am-1:30pm
Accepts donations of nonperishable food for the food pantry, and food for the soup kitchen

North End Community Council
555 Trumbull Avenue, Bridgeport
(203) 690-6326
Saturday: 8:30am-12:00pm
Accepts donations of nonperishable food

Re-Entry Ministry Food Pantry
24 Holly Street, Bridgeport
(203) 368-4018
Monday: 4:00-6:00pm or call ahead
Accepts donations of nonperishable food

Roosevelt School Family Resource Center
680 Park Avenue, Bridgeport
(203) 330-8181
Monday-Friday: 8:30am-4:00pm
Accepts nonperishable food for the food pantry

Salvation Army - Bridgeport Corps Community Center
30 Elm Street, Bridgeport
(203) 334-0995
www.use.salvationarmy.org
Monday-Friday: 9:00am-4:30pm
Donations of food are accepted for distribution to people in need; holiday food donations are also needed for holiday programs

Thomas Merton Center
43 Madison Avenue, Bridgeport
(203) 367-9036
www.ccfairfield.org
Tuesday and Wednesday: 10:00am-1:00pm; Friday: 11:30am-1:30pm
Accepts food for the soup kitchen and food pantry

DARIEN

Person-to-Person
1864 Post Road, Darien
(203) 655-0048
www.p2pdarien.org
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday: 9:00am-4:00pm
Thursday: 9:00am-6:00pm
Saturday: 9:00am-12:00pm
Accepts donations of non-perishable food for the food pantry, clothing that is in season and in good condition, baby clothing/diapers for the Baby Basics Program, household goods, and new toy donations for the annual Toy Store and Be A Santa programs

FAIRFIELD

Connecticut Food Bank - Fairfield Warehouse
74 Linwood Avenue, Fairfield
(203) 256-1935
www.ctfoodbank.org
Monday-Friday: 7:00am-3:00pm

Operation Hope of Fairfield, Inc.
636 Old Post Road, Fairfield
(203) 292-5588
www.operationhopect.org
Monday, Wednesday, Friday: 10:00am-12:00pm
Thursday: 4:00-6:00pm
Accepts nonperishable food for the food pantry and food for the soup kitchen, and turkeys and holiday gifts for the Thanksgiving and December holidays

GREENWICH

Neighbor to Neighbor
c/o Christ Church, 248 East Putnam Avenue, Greenwich
(203) 622-9208
www.n-to-n.org
Monday-Friday: 8:30am-12:30pm
Accepts donations of clothing, small household goods, children's books, and baby clothing; closed holidays. Donations are used for agency programs

MONROE

Monroe Department of Social Services
980 Monroe Turnpike, Monroe
(203) 452-3770
www.monroect.org/FoodPantry
Monday: 2:00-5:00 pm
Wednesday and Friday: 9:00am -1:00pm
Donations of nonperishable food, along with condiments, paper goods and toiletries, are accepted. Also accepts animal food/supplies; infant items (clothing, diapers, formula); cell phones; office equipment/supplies; and school supplies for the Back to School Program

NEW CANAAN

Town of New Canaan and St. Mark's Church Parish House
Church House Foyer-111 Oenoke Ridge, New Canaan
(203)966-4515
www.stmarksnewcanaan.org/outreach
Monday-Friday: 8:30am-4:00pm
Accepts nonperishable food donations, toiletries, and paper goods

NORWALK

Christian Community Action
98 South Main Street, Norwalk
(203) 899-2485
www.ccanorwalk.org
Monday-Friday: 9:00am-12:00pm
Accepts donations of nonperishable food, winter clothes, children's books, toys, and household goods for use in agency programs

Mid-Fairfield AIDS Project
16 River Street, Norwalk
(203) 855-9535
www.mfap.com
Monday-Friday: 9:00am-5:00pm
Accepts baby clothing and diapers, baby formula, office equipment and supplies, personal care supplies, recreational equipment, and school supplies for agency programs

Norwalk Emergency Shelter Manna House of Hospitality
4 Merritt Street, Norwalk
(203) 866-1057
www.norwalkemergencyshelter.org
Monday-Sunday: 6:00am-12:00pm, 2:00pm-9pm
Accepts donations of food for the food pantry and soup kitchen, and clothing and furniture, office equipment, personal care items, school supplies, and toy donations

St. Philip Parish Food Pantry
25 France St, Norwalk
(203) 847-4549
http://stphilipnorwalk.org/
Monday-Saturday: 8:00am-8:00pm
Accepts nonperishable food donations for the food pantry

St. Vincent De Paul Society at St. Thomas Apostle Church
203 East Avenue (rear of church), Norwalk
(203) 866-1644
Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday: 9:00am-12:00pm
Accepts nonperishable food donations, baby food, diapers (but not baby clothes), household cleaning supplies, personal care supplies such as soap, shampoo, toothpaste, toilet paper

Salvation Army—Norwalk Corps Community Center
14 Byington Place, Norwalk
(203) 866-2125
www.use.salvationarmy.org
Monday-Friday: 10:00am-2:00pm
Donations of food are needed for the food pantry and for holiday food baskets

REDDING

Town of Redding Department of Social Services
Community Center, 37 Lonetown Road, Redding
(203) 938-3580
www.townofreddingct.org
Monday-Thursday: 8:30am-5:30pm
Accepts nonperishable food donations for the food pantry

RIDGEFIELD

Town of Ridgefield Department of Social Services
Town Hall, 400 Main Street, Ridgefield
(203) 431-2777
www.ridgefieldct.org/content/46/84/default.aspx
Monday-Friday: 8:30am-4:30pm
Social Service Department accepts nonperishable food donations for the emergency food pantry, as well as personal care items and household goods

SHELTON

Area Congregations Together Spooner House & Valley Food Bank
30 Todd Road, Shelton
(203) 225-0453
www.actspooner.org
Monday-Friday: 9:00am-5:00pm
Accepts donations of diapers, infant formula and personal care supplies to support agency programs

STAMFORD

The Food Bank of Lower Fairfield County
461 Glenbrook Rd, Stamford
(203) 358-8898
www.foodbanklfc.org
Monday-Friday: 8:00am-4:00pm
Accepts donations of non-perishable and perishable food for the pantry

Wilson Memorial Church of God in Christ
164 Richmond Hill Avenue, Stamford
(203) 554-9807
www.164wilsonfoodpantry.org
Call to arrange time for drop-off
Accepts donations of non-perishable and perishable food for the pantry

Faith Tabernacle Church Food Pantry
29 Grove Street, Stamford
(203) 348-8755 ext. 14
Call to set up a drop off time
Accepts nonperishable food for the food pantry

Haitian-American Catholic Center
93 Hope Street, Stamford
(203) 406-0343
www.ci.stamford.ct.us/content/25/50/260/95932/95984
Call to arrange time for drop-off.

New Covenant House of Hospitality
90 Fairfield Avenue, Stamford
(203) 964-8228
Monday-Saturday: 10:00am-6:00pm;
Sunday: 10:00am-2:00pm
Accepts donations of non-perishable and perishable food for the pantry

Salvation Army - Stamford Corps Community Center
198 Selleck Street, Stamford
(203) 359-2320
www.use.salvationarmy.org
Monday-Friday: 10:00am-3:00pm
Accepts nonperishable food donations for the food pantry

Zion Lutheran Church Food Pantry
132 Glenbrook Road, Stamford
(203) 327-7751
zionlutheran-stamford.org
Monday-Thursday: 9:00am-1:00pm
Accepts nonperishable food donations for the food pantry

TRUMBULL

Trumbull Department of Social Services Center
23 Priscilla Place, Trumbull
(203) 452-5198
www.trumbull-ct.gov/content/550/8679/
Monday-Friday: 9:00am-4:00pm
Accepts nonperishable food donations for the food pantry

WESTON

Town of Weston Social Services Department
Town Hall Annex, 24 School Road, Weston
(203) 222-2663
www.westonct.gov/townhall/27652/28677/29470
Monday, Tuesday, Friday: 9:00am-4:00pm
Accepts food donations to be distributed to Weston residents in need

WESTPORT

Town of Westport Department of Human Services
Town Hall, Room 200, 110 Myrtle Avenue, Westport
(203) 341-1050
www.westportct.gov
Monday-Friday: 8:30am-4:30pm
Assists residents of Westport with emergency food

WILTON

Town of Wilton Social Services Department
Comstock Community Center, 180 School Road, Wilton
(203) 834-6238
www.wiltonct.org
Call to set up drop-off time.
Accepts donations of nonperishable food, personal care items and school supplies

Wednesday, November 09, 2011


Almost went out in Agoy Pants....

Why do we women check our arses in the mirror? (And why don't MORE women do so, have you noticed the rear views lately?) Sometimes it's to see if your pants look good or like a pair of water balloons are trapped in sausage cases. Other times it's to make sure your child hasn't smeared chocolate on your behind without your knowing it. This morning? Whatever the reason, it saved me. In some odd dressing malfuncton, my workout pants were on inside out. Not a good look but would have been worth a good laugh at kick boxing....

Tuesday, November 08, 2011


Billy Blanks pushes martial arts to help kids with autism

Even better? For National Autism Association - a leader in helping families.
Damn tired of "awareness" vanilla (even fancy French Vanilla from some)
for autism. Need action. And Billy Blanks pretty well personifies action!

Read more:From Tampa HERE.

BAM POW!

Monday, October 31, 2011

Blogging from phone?

Finally I'll blog more often. Happy Hallowine!


Happy Halloween

42 years young! Wanda the witch lives at my parents house.


Friday, October 28, 2011

Yeah, I copped a feel. ;)

Saturday, October 22, 2011


PREDATOR??

Ha ha!, we're at Planet Hollywood in Vegas. Every room has a theme and memorabilia from a movie. Did we get Love Story? No. Did we get Good Fellas? No. Did we get An Officer and a Gentleman? No. WE GOT PREDATOR. There's a giant claw in the glass table, a hat in a case on the wall and THAT fella stares at us from over the bed. If it had been Nightmare on Elm Street I'd have checked the freak OUT of the hotel......

Pretty cool here in Vegas. Bright, noisy, shiny --- different.

Thursday, October 20, 2011


And we're Off to the Els4Autism event!

And I'll have a special post to share when I return. It has to with something I wrote in my book that is finally going to come true!