April 2013 – Page 2 – *the gratitude-a-thon

So much of the past week has made me cry, and this clip of Neil Diamond singing Fenway’s unofficial national anthem, Sweet Caroline, at yesterday’s game, was a perfect ending to a week of waterworks. For anybody who’s not a Sox fan, this is a part of every home game. It’s played during the 8th inning, and the audience sings along, and adds a very loud, and often very drunk, “Ba, Ba, Ba” and “So good, so good, so good.”

Thanks, Neil. This was so great, so great, so great.

gratitude-a-thon day 88: dave szeto

April 20, 2013April 20, 2013Uncategorized4 Comments

Dave Szeto is worth a gratitude-a-thon even if he wasn’t a Cambridge police officer. He is kind. He is easy going. And I have always said, if I woke up in the middle of the night, and had a crisis, as stupid as a need to have my living room painted, or as serious as a medical emergency, Dave would be at my house in one minute flat. Well, I just wanted to say thanks to Dave. I know he puts his life on the line every time he goes to work, but let’s face it, here in Boston, it became really obvious how super brave Dave and all the police officers who lay it on the line every day, really are. And how much we need them. Thanks, Dave, and thanks to all your brothers in uniform. I AM GRATEFUL. And I think I’m speaking for a whole city, when I say, you are fucking awesomeness.

April 19, 2013April 19, 2013Uncategorized2 Comments

OH. MY. GOOOOOOOOOOOD. I woke up to the absolute insanity in Boston on my phone, computer and tv. I am really beyond words. Ally and I are supposed to be on a 7:30 p.m. flight back to Boston tonight, but looks like air space is closed for now, so we’ll see.

But I saved this guest-a-thon for today, because like Janetta, I too, don’t love to fly. It’s a great piece–funny and smart, like Janetta, herself.

I met Janetta because our kids went to school together. She’s an intelligent, funny and hip single mom of a great girl. She is also a spectacular cook and great writer. In fact, she has a well written, and awesomely fab blog about food you can go and read: http://umamis.blogspot.com. And now, Janetta, my sister in flight.

Name: Janetta Stringfellow

Occupation: Director of Development at Commonwealth School

About me: I’m mostly a mother of a teenage daughter, but I’m sure there’ll be time to focus on myself soon… really.

WHEN THE PILOT TURNS OFF THE FASTEN SEAT BELT SIGN

I’m grateful for the un-illuminated fasten seat belt sign – the signal that everyone on the flight deck believes that we’re all going to be okay, even if I’m still fairly skeptical. As I write, I’m 35,550 feet above the ground somewhere between Boston and Chicago. Were people really meant to be 35,550 feet above the ground? Other people fly to Chicago or even Timbuktu and never give it a second thought. Clearly I’m in charge of doing all the thinking for them. First I look around the gate to see if the faces of the passengers seem like faces that might crash. I’m not sure what specific characteristics I’m searching for, but I’ll know them when I see them. Babies are a good omen for some reason. And people with soft, beautiful, expensive leather luggage who look like nothing bad will ever happen to them. There’s like no way they’ll never make it back to their house in the Hamptons – their luck is too good. Once, I was on the Delta shuttle with Maria Shriver – she had her first baby with Arnold in her lap, and I was SO excited. MARIA SHRIVER’s not going to die, I said happily to myself, and I dared to recline in my seat and open my book. And then it hit me – SHE’S A KENNEDY!! All bets were off.

Anyway, after the wait at the gate, my real job begins. The universe apparently put me in charge of keeping planes in the air, and there’s a very specific step-by-step process. As I approach the plane from that dizzying tilted passageway, I check to make sure that there aren’t any cracks in the fuselage and that the aluminum (or whatever planes are made of) looks sound. Next, I look to my left into the cockpit to confirm that the crew is made up of real people who most likely don’t want to die either. During take-off I close my eyes, count to 10, and say the Lord’s Prayer twice silently (but while actually moving my lips). And then I order a Coke. Lots of times I don’t want a Coke. I want water. But, I don’t deviate. It’s too big a risk. Throughout the flight I’m responsible for listening to the wheels go up, and the engines whir, and whatever mutterings the flight attendants say to each other. It’s very important to ensure that all the right noises are happening at the right time. I never go to the bathroom – I don’t like my feet pushing down on the bottom of the plane. I’m sure there are heavier people than I am who walk back and forth willy nilly, but I try not to let that bother me.

I practice constant vigilance, but when the fasten seat belt sign goes off, I breathe a small sigh of relief. Maybe everything is going to be okay after all, and for that I am grateful. Perhaps I can read a book or take a nap (well, a nap is inconceivable, really), or I take out my headphones and watch the in-flight entertainment. Maybe. We’ll see. Chicago’s a long way away and a long way down. I don’t want to leave anything to chance.

Other things I’m grateful for? Xanax. But I seem to have forgotten mine at home. And, I’m grateful for Toni, for giving me a distraction in this tin can in the sky. Hope your flight to Miami was fab.

guest-a-thon day 3: meditation

April 18, 2013April 18, 2013UncategorizedLeave a Comment

Still reeling, down here in Miami, from Monday’s events. My daughter is scared, and just wants to watch the news. Joan and I are also obsessed with any piece of information we can get our hands on. My heart is with all those people whose lives have changed because they were at one of Boston’s most happy days. I give you everything, people. I am fighting for you in my heart.

Anyway, the guest-a-thon today comes from my friend Steph, who I have known since I was 13, and who I will love until I am 113, wearing granny panties. She is the greatest person, true and real. And I love her so mucho much. She is an illustrator, a pilates instructor, and now an art teacher. A very talented girl, she is. And I think her post about meditation is apt, given the horrors of Monday.

Name: Stephanie Peterson

Occupation: Art teacher

I am grateful for my meditation practice. It is a new practice, only 110 days old, and I missed once, or twice maybe. I started it as a auto ethnographic study for my graduate program’s culminating project.

I have always been intrigued by meditation, and intuitively knew that it was THE THING I needed to do to stay healthy, and happy. I needed it to deal with some issues that have come and gone but have been rearing their ugly little heads since menopause.

I always have thought I was a happy person, and optimistic. After all, I have managed to create a pretty good life for myself. I’ve changed careers multiple times to fuel my interests, and have found success each and every time. I married a really great guy. I also have really, really good friends. What’s not to be happy about?

Well, last summer I found myself depressed, really depressed. In my mind my life was miserable, and I really didn’t care for living it very much. I latched onto little annoyances that happened in the day-to-day and turned them into stories written for a mini-series, and they didn’t have a happy ending. At least not in my mind. I knew I was doing it, and that it wasn’t how it really was, but I partly believed them, because I said them over and over, and couldn’t stop. Everyone does this, right?

Fortunately I have a really good and caring doctor, who helped me out with a cocktail of meds and hormones (don’t worry, not a very strong cocktail) that put me on my feet and helped me to function well enough to do what I had to do every day.

Five months later I started doing meditation, 20 minutes a day, in conjunction with a daily art making practice. I decided to follow the way of Insight Meditation, incorporating concentration (on the breath), mindfulness (connecting fully with the present moment), and loving kindness (toward my self and others).

One of my biggest realizations is that meditation isn’t done well or badly. All it really is, is a choice to begin again, to refocus our attention on the present, without any criticism or judgment. We let go of the distractions, and the stories that we drag along from our pasts and the ones we make up for the future. Meditation provides clarity and calm, and is so simple, grounding and so incredibly healing.

Nobody’s marriage is perfect, nor is their career or financial life or family. But one thing I hope to do, is not get caught up in the monkey mind I did last summer, and I think so far I am doing pretty well with it.

It’s a practice that I plan on sticking with, and seeing where it goes. I feel good again, and am comfortable with who I am, and am less sensitive in a good way. I am not making up stories, but enjoying the moments when I choose to bring my attention back to the present moment, and treat myself with loving kindness.

This week I am going to spend two days meditating at the Insight Meditation Center in Barre, MA. I am so grateful for the chance to be there, meditating with others, and for the possibility of it. I’ll let you know how it is, because I am not going to write the story ahead of time.

guest-a-thon day 2: the aftermath

April 17, 2013April 17, 2013Uncategorized8 Comments

I met Kat several years ago at a freelance job. I liked her immediately. Hard not to like the infectious laugh, the big blue eyes, the intelligence. She is smart, and funny and spiritual, and curious and very talented. She has a new website that’s coming. I’ll post it when it’s up. Cool girl.

Name: Kat Jaibur

Occupation: Creative Director/Copywriter/Coach

Seven weeks ago today, I was up at 6 a.m., excited to spend the day with one of my best friends, who was celebrating 24 years of sobriety. It was a gorgeous day, filled with laughter and hugs. By 6 p.m., we were sitting on the floor of my vet’s office, crying and saying our goodbyes to my beloved 12 year old golden retriever, Millie.

Two weeks ago today, at this time, I was in the procession of cars on the way to my mother’s funeral. In about an hour, I would stand in front of the lectern with my brother, look out at a beautiful sea of faces, and give her eulogy. I would tell people to take a deep breath, put their hand over their heart, and breathe in a memory of our mother, their nana, auntie, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, friend. That she would always be that close, as close as a heartbeat, a memory and a breath. At the reception luncheon across the street afterward, there would be so much laughter and happy reuniting with long-missed friends and relatives, so much joy introducing friends from Boston to my high school friends and all my cousins, so many stories being told, and so much excitement and noise that you would have thought we were at a party. I guess we were.

A week ago today, I left the beautiful sanctuary of a lake house in Vermont that had been loaned to us, said goodbye to my hometown, and sobbed my way down I-89.

Today, I sit at a desk in Rockport, Massachusetts with a front row seat to the show the ocean is putting on. The spectacularly blue sea, tiny whitecaps throwing themselves at the rocks like giddy schoolgirls chasing after Justin Bieber, the crashing of the waves and the whoosh of the wind are the only background music I need. The gift of this place is overwhelming. Everywhere I walk, every where I turn, another holy view. My heart almost leaps out of my chest. These last 5 days have been such a blessing.

And so it goes. Joy and sorrow. Laughter and tears. Mingling like the waves and the rocks, the sun and the wind. Do we have room in our hearts for both?

Two bombs went off at the Boston Marathon on Monday. I won’t pretend there wasn’t devastation. I won’t pretend that it wasn’t a bad thing, or that people weren’t traumatized, maimed, killed. I put my hand over my heart, and breathe in the breath of God that keeps us alive. I breathe out peace. I know my energy has the power to help heal the world. I know my prayers have the power to bless, comfort, soothe and encourage people I don’t even know. I know that every time someone intends to create havoc and misery, our incredible resilient spirits treat it as a call to rise to something greater. I know that the majority of us will see the good, and BE the good. I savor the stories of kindness already coming out into the light. THIS is who we are. We are better. We are bigger. We are more powerful and loving than we know.

Out of sorrow, we find what we’re made of. And it is good. In joy, we celebrate all that we are given. And it is good.

Here, in the richness of life, I know that this is what really matters. I know my heart can hold both happiness and sorrow, that I can turn from loss to thanksgiving. I will not stay down. I will not suffer in the darkness. I will turn the light on. And if I can’t find the light, I will be the light. And for this — all of this — I am beyond grateful.

gratitude-a-thon day 87: boston

April 16, 2013Uncategorized3 Comments

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JLNnXgQeqU

I’m interrupting the guest-a-thon for this important message. To the bombers of the Boston Marathon, I have two words: Fuck you.

While your pathetic actions have left thousands of people injured, body and soul, you won’t take away the spirit of our Boston. Or the world.

Because people are good.

For every person or political party like you, there are millions of people like the runners of the marathon. Their hearts and minds are true. Their commitment to conquer 26.2 miles for the love of a sport, a cause, or a personal goal make you look silly. Because you can’t blow up their spirit, or their determination. For every cowardly person like you, there are policemen and firemen and plain old citizens who put their lives on the line to help others who encounter unspeakable disasters. There were thousands in this case, and there will always be thousands and thousands who will lay it all down for the good of another. You can’t bomb that kind of spirit. You can’t kill that kind of humanity with an explosive.

But you can, and did scare us. You can and did temporarily make us feel afraid. And you can and did change lives yesterday. If that was your point, and that feels pretty pointless, you can feel pretty good about yourself. But here’s the thing, we will recover. We will be different, but we will recover. Because we are strong. We are stronger than you are. We are stronger than ball bearings flying through a spring day to kill and maim. We will be ok. Eventually, we will be ok. Not the same, but better.

But you will not. Because every night, just before you go to sleep, you will know. You will know. You will know who you are. And so will whoever put you here on this earth. And that is real terror. You will have to live with your actions. I don’t envy that. Because in the end, at the end, it will be you who suffers most. It will be you who won’t recover. It will not be us.

My best love goes out to all those families whose lives have been changed by watching a marathon. I will keep you in my heart. Always.

Love that dirty water. Boston, you’re my home.

guest-a-thon day one: carbs

April 15, 2013April 15, 2013Uncategorized1 Comment

Since I am going to Miami this week to see my sister, and have some fun down South, I thought I would do ask a handful of gratitude-a-thoners to guest blog. And guess what, they said yes! I thought it might be interesting (especially while I’m sitting at the beach).

I’ve known Brenda since Jake was two. We met at an agency downtown, where we were paired on a project. She’s a super talented art director, and we were a team and great friends for a lot of years. I don’t see her nearly enough, but I love her madly, and think about her all the time. She’s the mom of two awesome kids, she’s good at everything she does, and she is wickedly funny. And here she is.

Name: Brenda Dziadzio

Occupation: Art Director

Me in a sentence: Big-boned Southern girl struggling through spring in Boston for 22 years.

Hi my name is Brenda Dziadzio and I’m addicted to carbs.

I recently gave up eating carbs for Lent. Which might lead you to believe I am a really devout Catholic or as one friend said “insane”. My friend was right and apparently I’m not as self-aware as I thought. I honestly thought it would be an easy one and maybe I’d lose a few pounds in the process. I rarely have bread for dinner, I said. I don’t even really like potatoes, I said. How hard could it be? I said.

Well, I will tell you how hard. SO VERY.

By 11am on the first day I actually felt panicky.

Background. I never eat breakfast (just black coffee, and lots of it). Yes, I know how important it is to have breakfast. I know it jump starts my metabolism. I know how much better I would perform in school. But I don’t like breakfast food. Hate cereal and milk. Hate muffins. Hate eggs and toast. HATE pancakes and waffles. Can you see why I thought giving up carbs would be a breeze?

I went to my kitchen for a snack that first morning and realized I couldn’t eat my usual cheese and crackers (CARB!) or a bagel with hummus (CARB!) which always tides me over until I have my turkey, tomato and avocado sandwich (CARB!) with chips (CARB!). Hmmm, so bread is gonna be harder than I thought. What else would I like to have? In another section of the pantry, I pined for the ramen noodles (CARB!) the Oreos, the Doritos and the rice (CARB! CARB! CARB!) OMG I cant even have sushi(CARB!) for 40 days?

I don’t remember what I ended up with, but on that day I realized just how carb-dependent I had become. Carbs are fast, easy and filling. And SO good! I for one, think it is depressing to have a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs with no spaghetti. Or a burger with no bun. Pizza with no crust?

Try taking a 7-day trip to Mexico without eating chips, I dare you. Sit at that table day in and day out with that basket in front of you while 7 other people ooh and ah over their quesadillas, huevos rancheros and lime soup “Si Señora, it has tortillas in it”.

(Side note: I do NOT recommend having several margaritas on a spectacular beach at sunset on your last day in Mexico when you have not had a carb in 10 days.)

Go ahead, meet old friends for dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant and pass on the breadsticks, crusty bread, the fresh gnocchi, ravioli and even the meatballs THAT WERE MADE WITH BREADCRUMBS! Ain’t easy, I tell you.

What could I do? I turned to bacon. Bacon is not a carb so I put it on practically everything I ate.

So yeah. I’m back on the carb wagon. While that first yeast roll at Easter dinner felt criminal, I have savored every sandwich, tortellini and onion ring ever since. And the Catholic guilt has set in.

gratitude-a-thon day 86: the new k-mart commercial

April 14, 2013Uncategorized2 Comments

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/12/ship-my-pants-kmart-ad_n_3069515.html?utm_hp_ref=mostpopular

I worship at the alter of the funny, and I have worked in advertising for a really, REALLY long time, so this Sunday morning, I’m giving it up to a K-Mart commercial. This made me laugh out loud. So loud, it woke one of the kids, and they were pissed. Anyway, take a peek. I never thought I’d be thankful for K-Mart, but this morning I am.

gratitude-a-thon day 85: white kit kat art (yup, you heard right)

April 13, 2013UncategorizedLeave a Comment

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/11/kit-kat-art-white-chocolate-mike-watt_n_3063978.html?utm_hp_ref=weird-news&ir=Weird%20News

I love art in all its forms. Yes, even in Kit Kat form. Really, what I love is that people choose to make art from nothing. NOTHING. And here’s just another example. If you ask me, art makes the world go round.

Month: April 2013

gratitude-a-thon day 89: neil diamond