Month: August 2013

gratitude-a-thon day 200: new pencils

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This is the time of year when school starting begins to become apparent and I feel the need for new pencils.

Actually, I feel the need for order. Complete and total orderliness. I guess that’s a way to tame my transition anxiety. And there has never been a bigger transitional year than this one. So, maybe I will get my house into tip top shape. I doubt it, but a girl can dream.

I don’t love cleaning. I love a clean house, and I love to make beauty where I live, but I’m a little bit of a hoarder and did I mention the three barnyard animals I live with? So, keeping things organized is sort of my job, and my job alone. And it’s too big for me. Plus, like I said, it’s not something I enjoy. I know you’re probably thinking, “Does ANYBODY enjoy cleaning?” But I know people who do. I know women who are really neat and keep things spotless and military regime orderly.  And they make me feel like a sloth. I have had a cleaning lady (who I LOVE) for 22 years (the same one) and she is part of our family. If I didn’t have her, my house would likely be condemned, and I would be shipped off to some sort of prison where messy mothers are taught how to use Windex. I should mention here that I make a lovely greeting card, and wrap a very nice gift, just so that you know that I’m not totally without skills.

Anyway, I am grateful that this year, I am just going to try and be nice to myself during this period before school and the big college departure takes place. I am going to try and put everything in its place, because I know that will bizarrely soothe me, while I step into this big change. So, as the leaves begin to morph from green to orange and yellow, I will be sharpening pencils (and hopefully not poking out my eyes with them).

gratitude-a-thon day 199: a little getaway

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I am visiting one of my besties at her family lake house on Lake Sunappe in New Hampshire. While  I have sea and sand running through my veins, I have to say, this place is really relaxing. And we’ve had a billion laughs, so that makes up for the lack of salt in the water.

Lakes are serene, while oceans provide a soundtrack of calm with their rhythmic in and out of water lapping at the shore. Lakes are rugged and outdoorsy, with all their manly pine trees. Oceans are sandy affairs with rocks and beach roses and dune grass and the smell of suntan lotion wafting through the air like sausage on Yawkey Way.

Mother Nature is one creative girl with her ability to express herself in so many different ways. Grateful for that. She makes me look like a slacker.

gratitude-a-thon: small bites friday

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A melange of tiny little gratitudes because, ya know,  it’s Friday.

I am overwhelmed by the total sweetness of this video of a baby panda meeting her mom for the first time. This is like a 1,008 on the cuteness scale.

I didn’t even know these places existed, let alone that I should go see them.

I am reading the amazing Ernie Schenk’s book, The Houdini Solution. And dare I say, it’s magic.

New Series on BBC–Broadchurch. I’m loving it, not to mention dying to go to Dorset, where it’s filmed.

Man, I loved Chris Farley. I’m going to have to read this book.

The weather of the last week should be CANNED AND SOLD DURING NEW ENGLAND WINTERS.

The upcoming Target collaboration with Philip Lim looks amazing.

I am so grateful for Seth at my insurance company who really went above and beyond in getting me coverage for my lost/stolen watch. Thanks, Seth.

This is heavy, but lovely.

Jake doesn’t leave until September 8, but I’m watching some of the other kids leave, that I’ve known since they were teeny, and I’m  wishing  them all the best stuff there is as they embark on the exciting, drunken, enlightening years of college.

Downton Abbey preview. I simply CANNOT wait.

gratitude-a-thon day 196: today’s weather

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It’s August 15, and there is an undeniable whisper of fall in the air. I tried to ignore it when I felt it last week, but it seems to be waking up with me every morning. It’s kind of nice, but I know what it means, and that’s most definitely not nice.

I have realized in the past several years that I am no longer a four seasons kind of girl. Having grown up in Connecticut, sledding down the hill across the street, ice skating after school on a local pond, and learning to ski late, in high school, winter was fun. I didn’t mind the snow and cold. I rather liked the fashion ski jacket options. Praying for a snow storm that would cancel school kept things lively.

But with a wonky back, I can’t ski or skate anymore, and so my use for winter has been disposed of. I am all about summer. I have always leaned more toward the sun and sand than the snow and cold, but now it’s a more lopsided affair. It’s getting so bad that I will probably have to figure out what to do about it soon, as in perhaps living somewhere warm more of the time. New England just doesn’t give me enough of the sunny days I need, seeming instead to allow old man winter to show off for months and months at a time. If winter would just vanish after February, everything would be just fine. But it lingers, and waves its damn flag sometimes right through March and into April.

Anyway, I’m grateful for this day with its cool start and forecasted warm middle. The air feels fresh and clean. The light is clear and pretty. I’m not going to think about winter  I’ll think about that tomorrow. Scarlett had it right.

gratitude-a-thon day 195: adventures in your own backyard

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I will forever hopelessly be in awe of music and what it can do to me.

As I’ve written here before, I was kicked out of chorus by Mrs. Gustafson when I was in 3rd grade, who told me how much she loved me, but in as polite a way as she could muster, the simple truth, that I could not sing. I was very upset. I really liked to sing.

And that’s still true. I am freaking Adele in the car. I am Rhianna in the shower. But if you are listening to me, you might disagree and call me less desireable names.

My cousin Jill posted this song by Patrick Watson, called “Adventures in Your Own Backyard”  and I took a listen. I think it’s the most extraordinary song. It does take a little bit to get going, but stay with it, I think you’ll be happy you did. This guy’s voice is sort of like a combination of butter and whip cream. Guess what I’ll be singing behind the wheel today?

gratitude-a-thon day 194: buh bye braces

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Before.
Before.
And after.
And after.

 

 

There are purple petunias in my backyard. They’re not that harsh deep purple color that’s garish and entirely too strong. They’re more of a purple flirting with a dash of pink. But they aren’t pink, so don’t get freaked out (I don’t like pink petunias). Anyway, they stand out like Elizabeth Taylor’s eyes. You know how you’d look at her, in all her beauty, but her eyes just sort of popped out like they were made of jewels. These purple guys make the white petunias out there, which have always been my favorites, and which I happen to think are fashionable and stylish (even after labor day) look like they are slumming. The purple ones, well, they’re the standouts in the crowd.

Yesterday my daughter got her braces off. After two years, of broken wires and swollen gums, sore teeth and a refusal to use her rubber bands, the heavy metal is in a trash can somewhere on Beacon Street. She has some gum swelling, so things will only get better, but she looks beautiful. And of course, she can’t stop looking at herself. And who could blame her, after toting around a full mouth of silver for two and a half years, she hasn’t seen what she really looks like since she was in 8th grade. She reminds me of the purple petunias. She’s that same kind of magic.

I have read about mothers being jealous of the way their daughters look, angry that their own youth has flown the coop. I can’t imagine that feeling for even one second. I love to see Ally’s youth on display, her flat stomach, her smooth skin. I could stare all day at her beautifully thick hair, that practically no hairdresser can even blow dry, and which has a blonde streak that she was born with. I adore her blue eyes, that I always wanted to have. I might be slightIy jealous of her nose, but no, I don’t think so. I have never been jealous of my daughter, who has always been prettier than me from the day she was born. I love it. You go, little Ally girl. You enjoy every day of your beauty. Don’t rely on it. It’s not everything. But gosh, it’s nice.

And so to my baby, who gets to see her teeth, I say gratefully, enjoy them, and use your big gorgeous smile often, and be thankful for your flawless complexion, and everything else about being young and pretty. As my mom used to say to me all the time, “Pretty is, as pretty does.” Yes, a thousand times yes, it’s more important what you look like on the inside (but it’s kind of fun to have a good looking exterior, too, mom).

gratitude-a-thon day 193: a summer weekend with lou and chris

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I brought Uncle Louie out to his garden to look at the tomatoes and basil and beans and flowers. This is land he has made into unspeakable beauty over the years.

This past weekend, we went to visit my Uncle Lou and Aunt Chris in Connecticut. Lou is my mother’s little brother, and the only remaining Uncle I have. Since my mother has been dead for 22 years and my dad for 12, Lou and Chris have acted much like parents to me, for which I will forever be grateful. By the time I had children, my mom had been gone for years and my dad wasn’t really in any kind of health to participate. Lou and Chris made a fuss. They visited and cooed, and sent gifts and made me feel like my children would have a little bit of the giant family I had when I was growing up.

Over the years, these two people have given me so much psychologically that it’s hard to quantify. One of the most beautiful things we’ve done together is to celebrate Thanksgiving at their house each year. It’s tradition. Sometimes there are loads of people, sometimes just my family, but always there is too much food, and a lot of laughs and enough love to package and send overseas to those less fortunate. We’ve been to the Vineyard together, and Italy, too.

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We took Aunt Chris out to dinner at her favorite restaurant. I missed Louie being there.

Louie has always been a whirlwind of activity. A vibrant firecracker of a guy. Never one to sit still, he was always building something, fixing what was broken, gardening, cooking, eating, or driving 20 miles out of his way for chicken that was 39 cents a pound instead of 59 cents a pound. A history teacher turned real estate agent, his passion for life was big as the gosh darn moon.

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Here’s Lou. He only sits for a minute, before he’s off to do the stairs again.

He is 91 now. And he has severe dimentia. He no longer has speech. Always a big guy, my Italian uncle has lost so much weight, even with my bad back, I could probably pick him up. He now has around the clock nurses in his home. He walks up and down the stairs upward of 100 times a day. Even the nurses can barely keep up. Even with more than nine decades tucked under his belt, you can’t keep this guy down.

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This is always how Lou and Chris have said goodbye to us when we leave. Chris came out to do it alone, but then Lou, surprisingly, came to the door and joined her on the porch.

It was terribly hard to see him this weekend. I know he has had a great life. And I know that we are nearing the end of it. My aunt, who has been with Lou since she was 17, is trying to let go, but with Lou in and out of her face 20 times a day, she is constantly reminded that she is losing her life partner, and she can’t quite catch up to it. Who could? How do you cope with life when it’s this real?

There’s so much more to say about endings and getting older, and accepting the way life rolls out. But I am sad today. I am sad, but I am grateful. But mostly, I am sad. And that’s the best I can do.