Count to 56

There’s a time when your life finally, finally starts to come into focus. When you start to actually like who you are and don’t care what other people think of you. Talk about sweet relief. It’s a moment I had really started to doubt would come. I guess I just had to count to 56. Oh and roll up my sleeves to do “the work.” Soul excavating, difficult but so worth it.

I remember discovering a kaleidoscope in the variety store as a child. I took it to my mother and asked her what it was and she showed me how to look through the viewer with one eye (took a few tries) and turn the other end at the same time. I was fascinated by the turning and transforming and the colors.

It’s just occurred to me that my life up to this point has been very much a kaleidoscope. But I misread it. I saw and felt it as a train wreck (or car wreck x4). As it hits me today, all the incredibly hard times, pain, grief, shame, loss, despair, fear, and heartbreak have polished me like my favorite sea glass made smooth by the pounding surf and sand. It feels much better to see life as a kaleidoscope, with purpose and meaning, not because I wasn’t enough. Fun fact: we’re all enough.

They say perception is everything and now I know why to this day if I come across a kaleidoscope, I’ll pick it up and feel that same girlhood feeling. I appreciate it as a metaphor for life. Who knew a dollar store toy could be all that, proving that it really is the simple things that can mean so much.

No Pants, No Fire

If you say that you’ve not done one, most or all of the following - I’d say you’re a liar.

The past year has revealed our collective savage side. Days that slide by one after another, after the next - without showering. Lots of us had a personal best of days where soap and water did not touch our skin. This was surely following a record number of days we’d been wearing the same clothes. And forget about our hair. Mostly we’ve started to look like cave people. Our hair is UN-cut, UN-colored, and UN-washed. But facial hair is big. And by big I mean men are growing it with reckless abandon. Young, old - it doesn’t matter. They all look like some version of Grizzly Adams (dated myself there) or Santa Claus. In a word we’ve become scruffy.

It’s been an interesting experiment and it’s always fun to get a little ragged, but are we ready to clean up now? Doesn’t it sound good to get clean, smell nice, put on clothes that make you feel spiffy? Whilst being out, hanging with your people, listening to live music, drinking and eating sublimely.

Spring has sprung. Us too. Soon.

Christmas Wrap Up

Because my mom died six weeks before Christmas, I’ve been white-knuckling the holiday for 30 years. That’s not to say there weren’t any wonderful ones, there have been, but it’s been a variety pack for sure.

My early approach to the holidays was to dread them, not engage, leave everything to the last minute, stress, eat and drink my way to the finish line and sigh in relief when it was over. What’s ironic is the holidays at that time were by all definition, fantastic. The presents were an embarrassment of riches; purses from Europe, coats, clothes, jewelry, cell phones, cash. Beautifully wrapped and wonderful to open.

A couple of years into this way of celebrating I discovered that the gifts were paid for with a check from my inheritance made out to “Susie’s Christmas.” It gave me a pit in my stomach and I found what I really wanted was one gift from the heart vs many gifts that cost too much of my money.

Christmas took on a better glow when I became a mom. Seeing the holiday through my children’s eyes certainly took the sting out and motivated me to put on the best Christmas EVER. There was breakfast with Santa with my girls in pretty dresses, building gingerbread houses, the family in matching colors Christmas cards, decorating the tree, baking cookies, drives to see the lights on Christmas Tree Lane, and tons of presents (the ones from Santa wrapped in Santa paper). I may have over compensated and definitely ran myself ragged. Fingers crossed I didn’t blur the line between magical and miserable.

Perfect Christmas was followed by divorced Christmas where the kids got two of everything and with it were schedules to be ironed out and adhered to. Mixed in depending on the year, were Christmas Days alone or a romantic day for two.

Which brings me to this Christmas in the Pandemic of 2020. Many things were new and/or different and I felt the old humbug creep back in. For the first time in my life we had an artificial tree. It was smaller than we usually have but great in the ease of putting it up, lights already in place. There’s a new, young dog in the house this year who jumped on the tree as soon as it was up. An excellent clue that we should use all non-breakable ornaments. I’m surprised to say it’s been one of my favorite trees. Government suggestion to reduce in-person shopping meant that I ordered every gift except one online. All in all there was less stress, less people, smaller meals and less clean-up. Perhaps because of the year it’s been, I found a willingness to rest, relax, and watch classic Christmas movies that soothed my tired spirit. The humbug gave way to discovering that simple feels really good.

Mom's Always Right - 30 Years Later

Reason #472 mom was right.

When I was about 12 my mom started talking to me about how important it was to take care of my face. “Always take your make-up off at night,” was the gold standard of skincare.

I didn’t listen. In my 20’s and with my mom now gone, I didn’t give 2 shits about a skincare regimen. Ironically, people would comment on how nice my complexion was.

Fast forward 30 years, I now spend a good deal of time trying to please and preserve my skin. Is it washed, exfoliated, toned, serumed, moisturized and sunscreened? Morning and night. And don’t forget a mask once a week.

This is just one of many, many things I wonder about how it would be to have my mother here. To suggest and guide, laugh and cry. Age 18, 30, 40 or 55, I’m never grown up enough to be without her. The reoccurring thought: How different would my life be if she were still here? With absolutely certainty I’m sure — EVERYTHING would be infinitely better.

Saturday Night Shower

There’s a room in your house that maybe you’re not paying enough attention to. A space you might like to spend more time in. The shower.

“I spend time in the shower,” you say. But have you enjoyed the difference between your weekday morning shower and a Saturday night shower? During this quarantine we’ve had to find a good time in different ways and places.

Think about it, it’s the end of a busy Saturday or you’ve taken the day off from activities and are still in your jammies from the morning. You need a shower.

One reason showers feels different on a Saturday night is, there’s no time limit and no place to get to. You can relax and take your time. It’s also a great place to have some time to yourself. There’s nothing anyone can ask you to do because…you’re in the shower.

If you feel like some company, invite your mate in. Who say’s Saturday Date Night can’t happen in the shower? When was the last time you washed her back or you washed his?

You can just stand under the spray and relax, think your own thoughts or sing a great song. It gives you a solid block of time for self care. Scrubs, masks, pumice stone. When you’re good and done and all dried off, there’s the great feeling of being clean and slipping into your next relaxing activity….. Aaaahhh.

Alexa?

I think Alexa is lame. I’m just saying, for me, it’s a” no thank you.”

Having a squawk box in every room (or even 1) sounds undesirable to me. Talking to an inanimate object would make me feel silly. Her creepy voice answering me and then lights turning on or the television channels changing or whatever else Alexa does, would give me anxiety.

Hearing that Alexa had been eavesdropping on the people she’d been purchased to serve, didn’t bring my comfort level up. And when the inter-webs reported that small children had been able to orders hundreds of dollars worth of wish list items that began showing up at their unaware parent’s front door, I thought, oh hell no.

No Judy Judgerson here. Obviously if Amazon’s sold 100 million Alexa devices, they’re appealing to the masses. But I wonder if the ratio of human to human contact vs human to cloud-based voice service would become equal, or worse, less.

Maybe just because we can integrate more technology doesn’t mean we should. Just my 2 cents and I’ve gone on a quarter’s worth. Your turn. What do you think? More technology or less?

Mommy, What's a Pandemic?

What’s a pandemic? The phrase bouncing around social media explains it well; we’ve been sent to our room to think about what we’ve done. Perhaps we’ve pushed Mother Nature a little too far. It’s not like humans have treated the planet very well, or each other for that matter. Karma?

I don’t believe life occurs in a vacuum. Swirling around, random, disparate, disconnected. Maybe meaning can’t be attached to everything but believing that things happen for a reason or that there aren’t any accidents is what gets me through. At the least the theory makes me curious enough to come out from underneath the covers.

Perhaps the stages of COVID-19 go something like this:

1. Anxiety level 10. Weight Watchers or AA? Eating/drinking (or both) feelings.

2. Getting a grip. Establishing a new routine.

3. Settle in, it’s going to be a little while longer before the quarantine lifts. One day at a time. Practice gratitude.

4. Go on a news diet. Staying glued to the news can be toxic. Consume in smaller doses, preferably with a day(s) in between broadcasts.

A pandemic is sure a great equalizer. A stripping away of the superfluous down to what’s really essential. Ordinarily there are different interpretations of necessary, COVID-19 makes it pretty simple. STAY HOME. Wear a mask when outside your house. Keep to social distancing of 6 feet. Not that hard really.

Maybe we all needed a refresher on what our humanity entails. Will we share our toilet paper? Volunteer at the food bank to load cars for our neighbors who lost a job and don’t have enough? Will we donate money when our own budgets are tight? Will we cut other humans in our circle some slack by understanding that everyone is scared, anxious and on edge?

Maybe it’s our turn to rise to an occasion, like generations before us. We are lucky to do it with amenities they didn’t have. Zoom keeps us in touch, practically in person, in real time with our friends and loved ones. There’s so much to entertain us it’s ridiculous. Streaming television to the point of bingeing, video games (Fortnight anyone?) and if board games make you bored, you can play Cards Against Humanity online.

We can do this people. Stay well, hang on tight and we’ll ride this through to the other side. As we always do.

Martini anyone?

Still Standing: The Story of...

I’ve started to write my story several times. Encouraged by my closest sister who often said that I should write a book. These conversations usually occurred around some disaster that was blowing up my life. “Who would want to read about this,” I’d say.

I have experienced a lot of life’s challenges. Perhaps it would be cathartic to write it all down. I kept thinking I’d have to get to the happy ending of the story, where all the trials (one is a literal reference) culminated in a happily-ever-after, tied up with a pretty pink bow. I see now that it’s not going to work that way. I mean hell, I could be 80 years old and have forgotten the story by then.

It occurs to me that the fact that I’m still standing is perhaps what the story is about. And the good (?) news is that the majority of the people surrounding my story are either deceased or not speaking to me so no headache there.  

Stay tuned.

Rewarded?

"Do you have a rewards card?" Don't we hear this nearly every time we make a purchase? And by rote we drone out our telephone number.  Rarely,  I get a small discount. After repeating my phone number for the fourth time recently while running errands, I thought what reward am I really getting? What is it about this routine that we think is of value? I think reward programs have sold us an inflated bill of goods.

I started looking at my receipts to see how being a rewards card holder was bettering my world -- 10 points of 10,000 needed to next reward. Whaat? At this rate I'll have to bequeath my points to my daughter to use after I die. Despite presenting my BevMo rewards card every time I make a purchase, I've yet to receive any reward or discount. This is one establishment that should have recognized me as a marquis customer. 

Not only do I have a wallet full of cards, I often have to put in multiple phone numbers to land on the right one. Is it my cell phone, my first ex-husband's landline number or the phone number before that? I can feel the customers behind me in line staring an irritated hole in me while I run through the list, all for just about nothing.

I have to recognize what a great marketing ploy and example of subliminal messaging rewards programs are but I think I'm done playing. I might even get a bit of secret pleasure answering 'no' the next time I'm asked for my rewards card. Individuality will be my reward.

Do you have a rewards card?

My Freshman Year as an Empty Nester a.k.a The Year of the Sloth

My daughter just finished her first year of college. It felt like my Freshman year of being an empty nester. In some ways I can't believe it's already been 9 months. In equal measure I feel like I. Can't. Believe. We. Made. It.!!  Even amid the nearly daily phone calls that ranged every degree of human emotion, my life lacked the structure of being a Mom and skidded to the other end of the spectrum.

The slide into Slothness was a slow one. The first few days she was gone the house felt cavernous. And weird. Not good.  I had to learn how to eat dinner for one.  I found myself buying frozen meals. I mean, the size was right and the names... Healthy Choice, Lean Cuisine, Amy's Practically Perfect in Every Way food, made it seem like a good idea.  They looked delicious on the package (when was the last time I'd had anything Alfredo). Sanity quickly poked her head in and suggested it was time to get it together and stop eating frozen, shit food. Still, many nights were popcorn or a grilled cheese sandwich, but at least I had to get a pan out and "cook."  My eating habits perked up when I realized I could drive through Panera or run through Chipolte for dinner as much as I wanted.  It felt a little naughty to eat out so often, but it picked up my spirit to be so fancy-free.

I noticed early on that I could leave dishes in the sink for nearly a week, never make my bed, and leave the house with the bathroom or my bedroom looking like a bomb went off. At first is was concerning. As it would be for any Type A person. Had I let myself go? Was this the beginning of a menopausal slide?

[Side bar: this menopause deal is a roller coaster. I basically try and pretend it's not happening. My Sister would say, "I think we're getting Peri-menopausal." I would looked shocked and say, "I don't know about you. But I'm not doing THAT."  I find if you ride it lightly, you don't get stuck in it.]

Truth be told, gradually, it felt freeing. It took one less stress off and again, felt a bit naughty. You know the feeling you're getting away with something and it gives you a little smirk on your face?  That kind of naughty.

My daughter would come home after just the right amount of alone time and I would pick her up from the train on Friday and have dinner together while watching our favorite DVR-ed shows before her boyfriend got off work. After that she was pretty busy for the rest of the weekend. It worked out fine because then I could see my boyfriend out of town and Daughter could take care of the dog.

Both my daughter and I have been brave about her becoming a grown-up. New activities we're on the table and I think we both handled them with respect, understanding and a sense of humor. We've become the closest we've ever been and it's true... being with your grown-up children IS the pleasure you've read or heard about. 

And so as life does when things seem to to be bumping along fine, change is in motion. Daughter is moving home to stay and attend a different school in the Fall and together we'll be moving to a new house next week. We like where we've been for the past 5 years but the landlord wants his house back. So with mixed to sad feelings, we've been working on packing. The sun came out when Daughter said recently, "It's going to be fresh start for us both." How can you not smile and feel better at the thought of that?

Daughter has become quite organized and neat this year away from home. And well, you know now how I've been. I wonder how she'll like living with a Sloth.