gratitude-a-thon day 2039: what it’ll take

(I wrote this yesterday, but had a ridiculous wordpress virus and had to download new software, but first delete like a billion gigabytes or what the hell ever they are before it would even download. First world problems, but hellish, nonetheless.)

I just walked the dog, and proceeded to have a toasted gluten free english muffin with mozzarella cheese for breakfast (I could eat one of these every hour all day long–isn’t melted cheese the best….and if you add some avocado…and a little bit of Trader Joe’s Everything But the Bagel and maybe a slice of bacon, and some tomato….but I digress), and I am sitting here in my office, in deep in thought about how to describe a contractor’s invention for keeping basements dry (very sexy work today) when my phone flashes, “Breaking News: “At least four dead in 2nd mass shooting in Chicago in four days.”

As my eyes scroll through this message, my brain fast forwards to where this happened, geographically. This is what I do everytime we have a shooting–I don’t want to see the word “California,” where my son lives. Even if it is on the other side of the state, I worry he might have somehow found himself there, which is about as unlikely as Chip and Joanna Gaines doing an ugly renovation. When I saw it was in Chicago, I went back to my work. 

But then I was all like, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

YOU JUST READ THAT FOUR PEOPLE WERE DEAD AND YOU JUST WENT BACK TO YOUR WORK, LIKE YOU’D JUST READ JLO WAS ENGAGED AGAIN. I had to smack myself and remember that these are people just like me with families and friends and lives and hopes and dreams and jobs and favorite foods, like mozzarella on english muffins. These shootings have become so frequent that even, I, an overly sensitive type, is beginning to become jaded. Hard stop, right there. I just can’t allow myself to let this kind of news stop meaning anything. I can’t allow myself to forget that this is bat shit craziness and we all need to remember that gun violence is killing people exactly like you and your kids. 

This is how it is now. The shootings are more and more frequent. This CNN article says as of this weekend, there have been 272 mass shootings in 2021 so far. And since it was published 23 hours ago, that didn’t include the Chicago shooting I just read about. And by the end of the day, or week, who knows how much that number will increase. But you know, I have to figure out how to explain my client’s innovative technique to keep basements everywhere dry, so I’ll just carry on. 


The other night we just so happened to watch Us Kids, an extraordinary documentary on the gutsy, resilient, fucking spectacular students from Stoneham Douglas High School in Florida, who became gun activists (after losing 17 and having 17 others injured during a mass shooting at their school. The movie documents them traveling all over the country with their message and first hand experience of gun violence. It’s quite impressive what these kids did and continue to do. And the director does a great job of making you feel the exhaustion these kids experience. (I felt so much gratitude toward these students, who were brave enough to make noise, to try and challenge the status quo, to push for laws by sharing their story). And as we watched, utterly blown away by their tenacity, we all said the same thing at the end of the movie. AS MUCH AS THESE KIDS HAVE DONE, THERE HAS STILL BEEN NO LEGISLATION THAT’S MADE GUNS ANY HARDER TO OBTAIN. 

Yeah, what am I even saying that everybody, including me hasn’t said before.

But when will it be too much? Do we have no bottom? who will have to die in a mass shooting for anything to change? Have you already started to ignore the breaking news that details another mass shooting? I will not allow myself to be become inhuman. i will force myself to remember that every life taken is a life like my own.

gratitude-a-thon day 2038: living in the day

Yesterday I met a friend I haven’t seen since the pandemic began. She is amazing and smart and super cool and she is dealing with cancer right now. We talked about it and the challenges of living in the now and how illness forces you to do that. And it made me think that the only way I can ever live in the moment is when I experience something that shakes me to my core and makes me feel like I’m standing on the tippy top of a weathervane on one leg, holding a house above my head. Why is it so hard to live in the date on the calendar? Why do we spend so much time looking back and looking forward, but not living in the day we have?

The absolutely charming Peregrine.

Anyway, we ate in a beautiful little garden, leafy salads topped with ham (me) and sardines (my friend). Then we walked to one of my very favorite old stores on Newbury Street, Matsu, that had closed for many years, and has just re-opened on Charles Street, and happens to share a wall with my friend’s adorable children’s store Kodomo, where you must go if you have kids, or know kids or just enjoy a great store!

Matsu is one of those stores that is beautiful from top to bottom. Small and intimate, the clothes are sublime and both my friend and I had a love at first sight moment with two different pieces. My friend bought a beautiful dress that was flowy and transparent and looked like she could have been born in, it was so her. And I bought a gorgeous black ruffled top that had me at hello. We were both giddy and might I add, totally in the moment!

If you want hip kid’s clothing, this is the place. My friend has style for days.

It was a perfect kind of day, with a friend, in a beautiful place, the sun shining, talking and eating and shopping WITHOUT MASKS. Gratitude goes to my bad ass friend who is spunky and spirited and who reminded me to live in the fucking day I wake up in.

If you were a fan back in the day, you’ll be excited to know that style has returned and it’s on Charles Street!

gratitude-a-thon day 2037: see ya february, wouldn’t want to be ya february

It’s May 21 and Mother Nature’s done her whole thing without missing a beat. Flowers are standing at attention and leaves are shading, and everything is going as planned. Even the weather is doing its best job to happily our pandemic PTSD. But what am I doing? What am I thinking about?


Specifically, February, that most miserable of months. You’ve already been battered by January, with its five pound holiday weight gain, fureeezzzing temperatures, harsh wind and white stuff, and boom, in storms (no pun intended) February, forcing us to face another solid month of bone chilling cold, piles of snow, ensuing slush, and days so gray you feel like someone has drained the entire content of blood from every inch of your body. So fun.

Why, why you may ask, am i thinking of February when we have at least another four good weather months to delight us? Why am I not in the moment, all Eckhart Tolle? BECAUSE LAST WINTER WE PLANNED ON GOING TO CALIFORNIA FOR THE UNMERRY MONTH OF FEBRUARY, but instead a little virus prevented us from doing that and instead of just having to endure the ugliness that’s February in New England, we had to do it locked in the house, fearful of going outside, or even to the grocery store, not seeing friends, not doing anything, but working, watching helplessly as the death count rose (my father-in-law included included in that death count) and basically camping out in the den under a myriad of fuzzy blankets, viewing every movie and series that has ever been considered even mildly entertaining or of merit from the beginning of the creation of moving pictures.

So, yeah, I am thinking about February. And I am going to make a plan to vamos outta here to warmer climes right now, because then I can sit back and glory in the summer, my favorite time, all sorts of grateful, because I’ll know I won’t have to endure another February. Because I hate February. And c’mon, even Valentine’s Day all filled with love doesn’t save this loser month.

gratitude-a-thon day 2035: masks down

Shall we sing the Hallelujah chorus together replacing “Hallelujah” with “No more masks?” Should we have a mask burning ceremony? Should we make mosaic art our of our favorite face coverings? I’m considering all. Leaning toward the singing, although it would have to be by myself in my car, in a secluded area, because have you ever HEARD me sing. Yeah, and you don’t want to.

Despite the CDC announcing that if you’re vaxxed, you no longer have to wear masks in or outside, I live in a town where it’s still mandated, so for now, I will still be elasticizing my ears and covering up my mouth with one of the dozens and dozens of mask I’ve amassed this past year. But I am buoyed and REALLY grateful by this ditch the masks news because hell, that means Covid numbers are slowing down and vaccinations seem to be working.

It also means freedom from the intense fear and isolation of Covid hibernation. I can ‘t wait to walk down the street without feeling like I can’t breathe and if I do breathe, I might be taking in someone’s Corona droplets, which might cause me to get the virus, which might end in me on a ventilator, never getting to see what happens at the end of The Handmaid’s Tale.

So, yeah, congratulations people, we made it. The future is unknown, but for right now, you can take off your mask, or not. Having that choice is something to give an unmasked toast to.

gratitude-a-thon day 2034: what you give, what you get, happy mother’s day

Happy Mother’s Day Gratitude-a-thoners! Wherever you are, whoever you take care of, today is your day, although isn’t it obvious everyday should be your day, but you get this one, so you know, make do (classic mom stuff right there).

My path to becoming a mom was like a road you drive on right before they make the real road, that bumpy thing they lay down. Yeah, that. Plus add some major speed bumps along the route, the kind there are no warning signs for and that sends your head for a ride to the roof, and makes your stomach lurch. There were all sorts of detours, yield signs, do not enter areas, bridges over troubled water, and damn it, a series of endless red lights that seemed to be the length of the Eastern seaboard.

Then one day, after three years, it all ended, and i took the exit ramp onto the superhighway of mommydom. Yes, I took the long way around, but then, shazam, kids.

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This guy made me a mom. I’ll never forget it. Any of it. I love him madly.

And I gotta say, it has been one of the most spectacular, challenging, gorgeous, complicated and amazing endeavors I could dream up. Wow, holy shit, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding and sweet-baby-Jesus all rolled into one. That’s being a mom. You are simultaneously giving everything you have, while getting like seven PhDs in living. Not even Harvard could teach you what you learn when you become a mother.

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For a long time it seemed I would never have one child, let along two. But I got lucky. Here’s number two. Oh, what she’s taught me. I love every inch of her.

One of the major tenets of being a mom is giving. You’re giving all day (and night) long. You make The Giving Tree look like a slacker. The balancing act you must participate in between how much to give and how much to keep for ourselves as moms is performed on thread. It is a delicate little situation.

But here’s what I’ve found. When you give of yourself, you get something far beyond exhausted. It’s in giving that we find ourselves. It’s in the giving that meaning is found.

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This is my mom in her happy place, on the Cape. God, she loved the beach, and me. She was a giver. A superior giver. I miss her every single day. But boy am I grateful to have had her as my mommy salami.

I almost missed this chaotic journey. It could have easily happened. But I think I was a mom long before I got pregnant, protecting the idea of having a family with everything I had (one working tube, some of the best doctors and a big dose of hope). I have given a lot. Maybe sometimes too much. But what I’ve received in return, not from my kids, but because of my kids has made me a better, more grateful person.

Happy mother’s day, all you mothers. I see you.

gratitude-a-thon day: hallelujah for modern medicine’s magic

Who would ever think the worst part of having a total shoulder replacement would be heartburn. But that’s what’s going on over here. Peter went into the hospital at 5:45 on Tuesday morning and came home with a brand new shoulder just 8 1/2 hours later. A whole new body part and you don’t even stay over night!

Eating some pasta a few hours after having surgery. (This probably contributed to the heartburn, but it was really good going down!)

He had a nerve block, so he was feeling no pain when he got home, and we were all really happy about that. But 18 hours later, the nerve block’s expiration date, still no pain. What woke him up yesterday morning was heartburn. Like, really bad heartburn. We quickly realized the mandatory 325 msg of Aspirin, given to prevent blood clots, was probably the culprit. He got it under control, and we even took off the sling to have a little sponge bath and to change clothes, and still no pain. Until last night when he got that heartburn again. Remedied by all the classics like Tums and Prilosec and a bread my neighbor made us that has made my list of “The Top 10 Things I Want In My Mouth At The Time Of Death. But shoulder pain? Nope.

The fighter. He has been in so much massive pain for the last 6 months, it’s just amazing to see him feeling better, even right after being cut open.

i have been having some trouble with my hip for several months and it appears I’m probably feeling more pain than a man who just got a body part replaced! Gratitude for medical science. I mean really, you just gotta love the idea that long ago, my husband would have had no choice but to learn to live with pain and impairment. Say whatever you want about surgeons always wanting to do surgery, but boy, when you need it, it’s like real life magic.

Oscar-a-tude-a-thon: We’re back

Maybe it’s because I’m all vaccinated, or maybe because it’s just time, but I’ve come here to resume my role as resident fashion critic of the Oscars. Who better than someone who’s scarcely been out of yoga pants in a year and is currently, as I write, wearing flannel pajamas with dogs on them.

It was a weird show, with none of the jokes, pomp and circumstance or fun that’s usually playing out on Hollywood’s uber (means very, not a car service) big night. The red carpet was hardly even a thing on ABC. They kept making us watch the nominated songs instead of making the stars tell us what they were wearing? Awe, c’mon, we came for good time.

Once inside the small venue (I’ve been in bigger restaurants), things got serious pretty fast, while Regina King’s open focused on our weird year and the George Floyd verdict. And that’s pretty much how it went–intros to the awards were little bios of each nominee and how they got interested in their craft. At this point, I was longing for the disaster that was Rob Lowe at the opening of the Oscars 1989 (Snow White was involved).

Let’s get on with it.

You’re the worst.

  1. what the Halle did you do to your hair?

The thing is, I like this dress. In another color it would be one of my favorites, but this hair is so profoundly bad and off and all things horrible that I couldn’t get past it to even THINK about the dress. Once when one I was little, one of my neighborhood friends didn’t feel good (at age 6) she went into the bathroom and had her hand on her forehead because she felt so hot and got so bored in there during her epic stomach ache, she took scissors and cut her bangs above where her hand had been and that’s what I feel might have happened here. Did you get bored int he bathroom, Halle? Or did you run into a lawn mower, or did you let one of your kid cut your hair, or one of your enemies. Anyway, this just goes to show the power of hair, because I think Halle is one of the most beautiful women in the world and even she couldn’t pull off this little Dutch Boy bob.

2. Andra Did you realize what Day it was?

So, I subscribe to the Nora Ephron “Put on a bikini and don’t take it off til you’re 35,” theory, so you know, this girl’s body is amazeballs and she should enjoy that thing, because later on, well, things go to shit. So, everything’s good, with the whole midriff thing, it’s just the ass cheek being three sheets to the wind that’s the problem. If there was just a whole skirt there at the bottom, the top would have flown, and I’d have loved it.

3. Laura Dern skirts the issue.

So, is this an hommage to Bjork’s swan dress? Did she have on a simple black clingy number,and ran into an ostrich on the way to the show? Is she wearing a skirt of white fluffy cats (everybody loves a cat)? It’s kind of mystifying how wrong this looks. And it’s time to cut your silly hair, Laura, which looks like a wig, but which I know is your own beautiful and thick hair, but this do is so done.

4. Glenn Close, but no cigar (for the eighth time)

The thing here is that Glenn’s face looks so good, which it doesn’t always. From her head up, things are fab, but from the neck down, we got problems. Was this really supposed to be an Indian sari, because that would have been really gorgeous, but instead this just looks like a gown that has no relation to the pants, except that they are both fabric.

5. Erica RiviNOja.

This is like, a perfectly nice dress, but then it’s like someone put a bib on her because she was about to have lobster. I think this is a plausible story, because she’s carrying a shrimp handbag,

And the good ones.

  1. Carey Mulligan, more than a promising young woman.

Oh, the perfection, the sheer and utter amazingness of this crazy good blend of modern (bandeau) and ballgown (big ol’ skirt). I absolutely adore this whole look. And I’m guessing the color and iridescence in person was probably bananas.

2. Zendaya looks like $6 million.

Yellow always catches your eye, but what about this look doesn’t? I love the proportion of the dress with her long hair, too. And she has on $6 mil in diamonds. And, something you just can’t plan for, the wind kept catching her, making this whole situation even dreamier.

3. Regina King. The strut, not the dress.

So, Queen King began the whole proceeding with a walk from outside to in with an Oscar in her hand. It wasn’t actually a walk, it was a strut. To music. And she did it so perfectly, I put her on the best dressed list, because of it. I love the fabric, and the way the light hit this blue number, but I hated the Sister Bertrille sleeves, because I thought she could easily fly away at any moment.

4. LA’s Union Station

Sadly I cannot find a better picture of the way Union Station was decked out last night, but it was all sorts of stunning. Every tree was covered in fresh flowers and there were lots of paper lanterns hanging all over. The effect was a high class drug induced grandeur. I loved it. I’m sure hoping when I die this is the heaven I go to.

gratitude-a-thon day 2031: medical miracles

In the next few weeks things are going to change around here. I am getting my second vaccine next Monday, Ally is getting her first. My son, who’s already gotten his one and done J&J and hopefully because he does not have a vajayjay, he will not be subject to blood clots, will be home in 8 days and my husband, my husband will be getting a brand new shoulder in 11 days.

I have been having some hip issues, which I will be getting imaged for next week. You know how in college they have different houses for kids to live in–the music house, the soccer house, the poetry house–we over here, are the orthopedic house, um, yeah. The lot of us have had more ortho issues than ER, Scurbs and Grey’s Anatomy put together. But, ah, thank God for modern medicine.

I am ridiculously grateful for all the scientists and every single medical person who has missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner for months on end to make vaccines that are helping us out of this pandemic. If you haven’t gotten one yet, please consider it a must-have. We need to lift ourselves up and out of this craziness and that little shot wlll allow that to happen. And whoever created a shoulder replacement, well you are bananas amazing and I am more thankful than the alphabet has words for.

Yup, things are going to change around here in the next few weeks. More freedom, less pain, and new body parts. I’m ready.

gratitude-a-thon day 2031: where the wild things are

I am a flower junkie. The more the merrier. So for me, spring is a kid in a candy store kaleidoscope of mood enhancing drugs. When my dog and I hit the neighborhood every morning, I get to monitor what’s happening in the plant world. Who is crazy enough to take the risk to put out window boxes and containers during this unpredictable weather time of year (me), where the magnolias are (out), how many battalions of daffodils there are, heads held high, rooting for the sun to come out and warm them like the heat lamps I see in so many patios that helped keep us social through the winter months of the pandemic.

I keep tabs on what’s about to bloom, where the natural world in our little corner of the world is at. It buoys me to know that no matter how harsh the winter might have been, the flowers come alive again, up and out from black soil, pushing aside dead brown leaves to make themselves known, to say brightly, loudly, “I’m still here.”

Pansies peeking through.
Look at that red against that sky. Swoon.
So delicate and star-like.
Pink and blue.
Obvi not outside, but part of my Easter decorations. Ranunculus instead of eggs!
Magnolias. Always one of the first to bloom.
Daffodils. So sunny. So hearty.
Can you have too many flowers. Um, nope.

This year, more than any other, nature’s reliable rhythm, feels like a lifeline. We too are beginning to step our vaccinated selves out of our forced hibernation, dipping our ratty pedicures into the waters of an unknown new world, none of us quite certain how far we should go, how safe it is. This spring, watching the flowers bloom, the trees leaf up, it’s not just a celebration of the end of winter, but the beginning of a new part of the pandemic. Yes, we’re still in it, yes, we won’t be putting our masks away for a while, but yes, there is a distinct possibility that we may be a good way through this historical chapter. Or not. I don’t want to hear about the deadly and super contagious variants that might force us back down (but of course, I listen intently to the news on this). I want to believe that Covid will be a story we regale at parties and family gatherings. I want it to be the past. But whatever happens, whether we must crawl back into our shells or get to begin again soon, you know we’ll be like the spring flower crowd, we won’t give up. And as Arnold said in The Terminator, “We’ll be back.”