*the gratitude-a-thon

gratitude-a-thon day 81: vacation anticipation

April 10, 2013April 10, 2013Uncategorized2 Comments

images-2 — Going to see Joni next week. Oh yeah, and the beach, too.

I am going to see my sister next week in her new digs in Miami. I am out of my mind excited because I get to see her, since it’s been like two months. But I am also really excited to be going to somewhere with a beach, because nothing makes me relax like the ocean. Not to mention the sunshine. Which brings me to my gratitude–vacation anticipation. Which in this case, I actually have only had a week of, because I decided so last minute to go, due to the schedules of the other four people I live with, who have soccer, and lacrosse, and are coaching basketball, and having meetings with USC, and meetings with work clients, and all sorts of other stuff that was making it impossible to plan a vacation. Finally, I just said, fuck it, I’m going, if anyone wants to come with me, great, if not, I am going solo. I only got one reticent taker, Ally. She is ambivalent about going because she really had wanted to have this April break with Jake, her brother WHO WILL BE IN COLLEGE NEXT YEAR AT THIS TIME, AND WHO WILL NOT BE ON APRIL BREAK WITH US. Not that she doesn’t want to see her Aunt Joni, but she is just worrying about not seeing her brother enough before he goes TO COLLEGE. Guess what, Ally, you will not be able to see him enough, you will never get your fill. We are going to miss that boy and that’s just that. But in the meantime, let’s have some fun in the sun. “Toni and Ally take Miami.” Eat your heart out Kourtney and Kloe.

But back to the vacation anticipation. (Sounds like “conjunction junction–do you remember SCHOOL HOUSE ROCK? I miss it. Legions of kids are missing out on those awesome ditties.) Anyway, the thing is that I love the time leading up to a vacation almost as much as the getaway itself. Except for the packing part, which I can’t stand, although I am getting better with it. I go one of two ways here. I either approach it by jamming everything I might want to wear on said vacation into a suitcase–and I mean EVERYTHING. Or I just bring a small amount of stuff, and decide I will buy whatever I need if I don’t have it with me (which has lead to some great clothes, as well as some very regretful purchases). Ok, so anyway, I love the feeling of knowing you will be embarking on an excursion, while you are just living your regular life. It sort of gives you a shot of adrenaline while you are just doing the mundane. You have a secret stash of happy that gets you through your blah, blah, blah parts of the day.

We have gone to Martha’s Vineyard every summer since we were married, and I still get excited, even though I know every part of that island, because it’s not the surprises of the trip that thrill me, but the tradition. I can’t wait to hit the ferry, and let my vacation flag fly. I exhale, ahhhhhhhhh.

I am grateful for the buzz of an upcoming trip. This one has an extra fizz to it, since I will be seeing my sister, who I miss like mad. I still don’t really understand that she is gone, or have all the visuals of where she is everyday, but that will soon be a sketch book that’s all filled in. I am counting the days. And loving the anticipation.

gratitude-a-thon day 80: Facebook

April 9, 2013April 9, 2013UncategorizedLeave a Comment

I know it’s sort of cliche (I don’t care if it is). And I know you might think it’s only for teenagers (it is not, AT ALL, in fact, most of them are onto the next thing already and I know plenty of Grandma’s who are on it). And I know it can be hurtful (but mostly, it’s not). But I’m just going to say it. I’m grateful for Facebook. If you’re on it, you are probably grateful for it, too. If you aren’t, hear me out (and stop laughing at me).

So, I thought it was dumb for a long time, but then I gave in and created a page. And suddenly, I had friend requests from all over the place. I re-connected with all sorts of people. People from high school I hadn’t seen in decades were suddenly my Facebook friends, and we caught up in newsy private messages, and then in our daily posts. There’s even a whole page devoted to people from my hometown. It’s just sort of fun to pop over there and see what’s going on. I also found People from college, people from old jobs, people from other countries. Suddenly, the “whatever happened to….” is a question no longer. There’s also a bunch of my family on Facebook. We’re pretty spread out, so it’s a great way to get to see what’s going on with everybody, view the latest vacation, baby, graduation, snowstorm, dance, or shit day. There are loads of people from school and town that are on Facebook, posting about their lives, reaching out while they’re working, or while they’re in line somewhere, or commuting on the train (or, yikes, while driving), posting photos of cool stuff they’re doing, or seeing, or part of, or things they support, or things they hate, or things that make them laugh, or questions they have, or breaking news.

Since I’m a freelancer and work from my home office (not to mention the kitchen, the den, or my bedroom–have computer, will travel), Facebook is a great diversion. When I’m writing or brainstorming, or doing concepts for a client, I sometimes just need an internet escape to keep me going. A quick check of Facebook can be just the thing. Post about your miserable day, and watch your Facebook friends rally around you. Announce your good fortune, and people from all over will tell you how happy they are for you. Ask where to stay in Belize, Paris, the moon, and gather intelligence from around the world. It’s easier than email, faster than snail mail, and you can reach and be reached by the masses in like 10 seconds. I give it to you Zuckerberg, you’re really a smart dude.

Facebook in the wrong hands, can be a nightmare. There are tales of bullying that have caused permanent damage. There’s the “everybody has a better life than I do” syndrome, and there are the homewrecker stories of Facebook affairs, but I have only experienced Facebook as the good witch. In fact, if you like this blog, you can thank Facebook, since it’s where this little baby was born.

Facebook friends can be your real friends, who you see on a regular basis, or strictly Facebook friends. You might never get together with a Facebook pal, but post something you’re unhappy about and they’re right there with support. Sometimes the two intersect, sometimes they don’t, but I love all my FB cohorts.

There are some people who post every five seconds, which I find annoying, or want you to play some dumb game, which I have no interest in. Some people drone on about topics that have no relevance for me, but mostly, I really like Facebook and accept it for what it is– a powerful platform, which can be used for good, and which allows people to connect any time of the day or night. And let’s face it, connecting with people, whether it’s electronically, or in real time, is good thing. A really good thing. If Facebook had a “love” button, instead of just a “like” button, I’d hit it.

gratitude-a-thon day 79: volunteering

April 8, 2013April 8, 2013Uncategorized5 Comments

images-3 — Sometime I over commit, but mostly I think of voluneering as a gift I give to myself.

When I think about the game of gratitude, I also think about volunteering. Because it’s one of those things that when you do it, although you’re helping someone else, it turns out that you’re also helping yourself.

I have been volunteering at my kid’s school since Jake was in Kindergarten. He’s going to college next year, so you can figure out how long that is. Our largest fundraiser was an auction, and I was there the first year one of the other mom’s brought in an idea about each class doing a theme basket that could be auctioned off. I took this little project on for many years because my artistic skills helped the effort, and because it was fun. I once designed a desk and then had a whole class of 2nd graders paint one section, so they would all feel ownership. One teacher created an Egyptian tomb and put artifacts inside. (not real ones–you weren’t thinking real ones, were you?) There were oversized art baskets, and baskets filled with books, and sports baskets overflowing with frisbees, and balls, and outdoor games. These things were popular in the silent auction. They often had parents guarding them, in order to keep upping the bid. I was involved in a few of those wars (they weren’t pretty).

Our school was also known for its commitment to drama. And while I did some props for a year or two, I finally took the leap and produced with another mom I’d never met (who then became one of the greatest people in my life, and one of my closest friends). It was so much fun, I continued doing the plays until Jake graduated (Ally only did the musicals until 6th grade, when she realized she had sadly inherited my charming vocal skills.) I did everything from costumes to posters. I loved it and I loved working with the kids and watching the transformation that took place for them over the course of the rehearsals. Also, it was really cool to see that the play brought the popular kids together with the less popular kids to form a cohesive bond. Labels were dropped and self-esteem was boosted. I liked being part of that. Plus we always had a kick-ass party after the whole thing was done.

I did a bunch of other volunteer stuff during my time at our fantastic elementary school, like the Understanding Disabilities program, run by the town, and parent volunteers, to help kids have a clear understanding that people with disabilities are just that, people, first and foremost. I also helped in classrooms, on field trips, and with recycling programs and homeless shelter projects. And while I know each of these things helped the kids and the school, I probably got something even better from each of them. Every time I helped the school, I also helped myself. I could go to bed feeling like I did something that mattered with my day. I love advertising, and it helps the company that I work with, but for me, it’s not as fulfilling as volunteering.

I am currently volunteering at the high school for the After the Prom Party, which is as the name implies is a party that takes place after the prom. It has a theme (this year, the beach) and entertainment and prizes and is really a blast. It was created to keep kids safe on a night that is traditionally known for drinking and driving. Anyway, tomorrow night, we’ll be painting surfboards and cutting out fish, so if you want to join us, we’d love to have you!

These are my top five tips for volunteering:

1. Do what you love. I am good at writing and designing and marketing, but don’t make me organize the event, it’s not my thing. Love what you’re doing and you’ll help your organization and yourself.

2. Volunteering is not a paid gig, but treat it like one. If you make the commitment, show up. No calling in “tired.”

3. Bring something to the party. Literally. If you can, it’s fun to have some wine and food while you’re volunteering. Bring a little something something and watch people perk up.

4. Be enthusiastic. If you’re going to feel put upon, stay home. Plain and simple.

5. Be open to meeting people. If I hadn’t agreed to produce the play, I wouldn’t have ever met one of my best friends in the world (not to mention her whole family, all of whom I LOVE and so does my family).

I am off to get foam core for the fish. And yes, the After the Prom Party is going just swimmingly, thank you!

gratitude-a-thon day 78: white

April 7, 2013April 7, 2013UncategorizedLeave a Comment

I really like color. Bold and bright and big. But when it comes to my surroundings, not so much. But give me a white room, a white anything, really and I am living the life. It’s calm, it’s serene, and it is always my go-to color. Doesn’t it get dirty? Well, yes it does–it’s white. But I just throw it in the washing machine and it gets clean again. I’m not such a perfectionist with my white. Life happens. Even to white, but you know that’s ok. Anyway, color trends are announced every year in the design world, but for me white is forever.

gratitude-a-thon: roger sterling

April 6, 2013UncategorizedLeave a Comment

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/04/mad-men-roger-sterling-one-liners-supercut_n_3009935.html?utm_hp_ref=mostpopular

images-1 — Roger’s got some of the best lines on the show. Maybe he should have been in the creative department, instead of account service.

Mad Men’s new season begins tomorrow night. Yah! Hurrah! Yahoo! And in honor of my man Roger, I give you some of his best lines. I laughed out loud.

gratitude-a-thon day 77: dog people (sandy has been found!)

April 5, 2013April 5, 2013Uncategorized2 Comments

images — Sandy. Lost, then found. I love my neighborhood!

I have written about my dog Riley before. And about how much I love him. And about how he really is this (wo) man’s best friend. But it has come to my attention, and Riley, cover your floppy ears, I really love all dogs. Even dogs I don’t know, or have ever seen. Case in point: Sandy.

Sandy lives a few streets over. She was hit by a car 48 hours ago, and then ran off from her owner, clearly injured, but well enough to make a getaway. In Brookline, where I live, we have something called the Green Dog Program. It’s an effort to allow dogs to use parks during certain hours, in order to run free. I think it’s really great, since Brookline has many houses with small yards, and enough traffic, that people don’t necessarily feel comfortable allowing their dogs to walk off leash. Anyway, I am on an email list, comprised of my local green dog peeps and pups and received an urgent message two mornings ago that Sandy had been hit, and to please be on the lookout for her. My heart fell, my stomach lurched. I could imagine exactly how frantic and overwhelmed the owners must be, and I could also feel how scared the dog must be. Now, as you know, I am human, but I am wondering if I might be at least part canine, because I really started to experience this dog’s fear (I have never once told you that my sanity was in tact in this blog, so you can decide). Anyway, while I walked Riley and started to look around. I was kind of peering under bushes and in backyards. But all I came up with were some candy wrappers (which made me wonder if we needed a litter campaign). The emails continued to come with news. My friend Leah, another part dog person like me, put up a Sandy post on Facebook. Sandy had still not been found. We were asked to please look under our porches, and in our garages and yards. I volunteered to help in any way I could. I walked Riley yesterday, and once again, snooped my way around the neighborhood, including telling a woman on the street who was walking a dog. She was very nice, but I did notice she scurried off when I started to get teary. I saw a flyer on an electrical post with Sandy on it. The campaign to find this dog was in full swing.

I kept telling my family how worried I was about Sandy, but they weren’t very moved, which I took offense at, and which made me start thinking that I might not be as balanced a human being as I thought. I was about to leave to go get a haircut, when my friend Dave called to talk about Sandy (FINALLY, a normal response) and ask me to go take a peak in his garage. No, don’t get excited, she wasn’t there. But I did appreciate Dave’s concern. And I am moving him onto my “favorites” list on my phone.

Anyway, I got an email yesterday, actually I got several emails, from the Green Dog Park list, from the Emerson Garden neighborhood list, and from the owner himself, to let me know that Sandy had been found! I wanted to have a parade! Someone had brought her to Angell Memorial, and because she had a chip, they were able to locate her family. And she seems to be in pretty good shape. You’d have thought I had just won an all expense paid trip to Bora Bora, when I heard this news. I was so happy and excited that this dog was ok.

I am very grateful to live in a place where dogs are considered people. I am so happy to know if my furry guy ever got loose, and ran away, that people in my hood would take it seriously, and go looking for him. That means a lot to me. Dog people are a different breed. And I’m happy to call myself one of them. Notice, I am not calling myself sane here, but I am calling myself a dog person. And that may mean a little nuts, but that’s just fine with me.

gratitude-a-thon day 76: fictional crushes

April 4, 2013April 4, 2013Uncategorized4 Comments

When I was 9, I had a crush on my first fictional character. “Davy Jones.” I carefully cut out pictures of him and artfully displayed them on my walls. My mother didn’t like that I used tape to give my room “Davy” wallpaper, worrying that it would remove the paint, once I had abandoned my love for the vocalist of “Day Dream Believer.” I can remember the feeling that guy gave me. I had my own little secret affair with him in my bedroom. All romance and pretend. I remember that I was quite certain that if “Davy” met me, he would fall in love with me and we would get married. I look back and can’t believe the confidence I had!

And then there was “Pete” on “Mod Squad.” More sophisticated at 11, I did not use photos of “Pete” to declare my love, I just daydreamed about him. He was handsome and had a swaggery cool I was mad for. I grew my hair like “Julie’s,” and waited for him to call. He didn’t.

Fast forward to the show “Moonlighting.” “David Addison” was hysterical and HOT. I fell hard for this quick-witted cutie. He was attractive, but really it was his sense of humor that put him on my list. Why couldn’t Cybil Shepard see this? She couldn’t have done better. At the time, I wished I could find a real life guy with such a quick wit and good lines.

From the moment that “Sawyer” survived the plane crash on “Lost,” I was in lust. That guy was part bad boy, part heart, and 100% HOTTIE. I had a major league thing for Sawyer from 2004 straight through to 2010. In fact, I used to dream about him! And I liked him so much, I rooted for his relationship with “Juliette.” I mean, if I couldn’t have him, I wanted him to have someone like her. Oh “Sawyer,” I miss ya, man.

Which brings us up to my most current crush. Inescapably embarrassing and practically illegal. Obsessed with “Friday Night Lights,” I have been gobbling up five seasons nightly (I just started season 4–I know what you’re thinking–“Read a book, for God’s sakes.”) Anyway, I have the biggest SUPER CRUSH on “Tim Riggins,” bad boy, heart of gold, good with his hands, bad at the books, street smart, romantic, GORGEOUS AND SEXY football star of the Dillon Panthers. Now I have not apologized for my other fictional crushes, but people, this dude is supposed to be in high school! I am in major “rob the cradle” territory here. I MIGHT BE IN THE EARLY STAGES OF COUGARDOM. I would like to add that I am also super crushing on “Coach Taylor,” who is more my age, but married with two children. Stop judging me, and watch the show.

Anyway, I am grateful for all these fictional crushes. C’mon, they’re fun and harmless, and fun is always good. I will end this now, Tim is waiting for me. Yes, he’s in high school. Yes, he’s fictional. But as Mia Farrow says in “The Purple Rose of Cairo” about her celluloid film star crush, “You can’t have everything.”

gratitude-a-thon day 75: kids who get along

April 3, 2013April 3, 2013Uncategorized4 Comments

Screen Shot 2013-04-03 at 7.30.30 AM — The “peace on earth” christmas card I made them pose for. It might be the only time in their whole childhoods they got along for a moment.

I still am trying to recover from the near constant fighting my kids did for their whole entire childhoods. These two were pros. They fought all day, every day, and I’m fairly sure they fought while they slept. There was no rest for the weary. What did they fight about? Go ahead, shout out a topic and you you will be right. Because what they fought about was EVERYTHING. Snacks, check. Sesame Street, yup. Bed time story, uh huh. Toys, yes sir. The park, indeed. A bagel, a car ride, a stuffed animal, what part of the couch they wanted to sit on, the legos, the bathroom, YES. YES, YES AND YES. There was no moment, no event, no time that forced these two to agree. Was it my breast milk? Was it my choice of crib? Was it the adorable clothes I dressed them in that made them so miserable with one another? It was a mystery, but all I knew was that these two kids, who I had to overcome three years of infertility to have, seemed as though they were opposed to speaking one civil word to each other. I had birthed two children who might be the first kids ever to actually put themselves up for adoption. This was deeply upsetting to me, since I grew up with two sisters, who were eight and fourteen years older than I was, and with whom I never fought. And yes, I was the midlife surprise! I guess it was because the age difference was so dramatic that we got along. No sibling rivalry, no problems with sharing toys, or clothes, or attention. So, having these two little monsters was confusing to me, and made me think that they would never get along. NEVER. And that was most upsetting to me.

As I watched other siblings play together and their parents describe them as “best friends,” I felt a deep sadness. Our life was a screechy near constant battle, with two little kids as soldiers, vying for position. Not one to neurologically handle discord well, I would feel unsteady and crazy. Time outs were common. Tears were even more common. There was always someone crying (and sometimes it was me). Friends would always say, “Oh they’ll get along when they’re older, you just watch.” I would look at them shaking my head, and say, “Yeah, I’m not so sure that’s ever going to happen. You don’t know MY kids.” And it was true. With each passing year, things just did not improve, giving me less and less hope that the future would ever be better than the past.

Anyway, just when I thought that my kids were destined to be enemies forever, it happened. It was last summer. Cue the hallelujah chorus. They just suddenly got along. They just suddenly started to call one another best friends. They just suddenly were the brother and sister I had always dreamed of. I have no idea what happened. It really was like magic if you ask me, because it was so sudden, so out of the blue. But was I grateful? AM I GRATEFUL for this transformation? Oh yeah, I am so happy to have two children who get along. Who are one another’s biggest cheering squads, and who I now know will have a long and loving relationship. Jake and Ally. Brother and sister. And best friends. Finally. It took long enough. But hey, I’ll take it.

gratitude-a-thon day 73: ham

April 2, 2013April 2, 2013Uncategorized8 Comments

I made ham for dinner on Easter (along with some major league lamb lollipops), And I have not been able to stop eating it since. I have been running somewhat of a ham-a-thon. My daughter loves it so I do make it every once in a while, but not that much, so it’s sort of special, but really people, someone needs to come over here and lock the fridge.

My mom and dad were both amazing cooks. While my mother’s fare was excellent Italian, with fresh vegetables smothered in garlic, fried and baked chicken, hand ground meat for burgers, thick pork chops, steak and seafood, my dad’s was, well, sort of everything. The guy was not conventional, and this unique non-conformity even showed up in his cooking. It was not unusual for him to bake bread with things like potatoes and raisins, rosemary, yogurt, and nuts. “Dad, what’s in this,” I would ask. “Aaaaaah, I don’t know, I threw in whatever was around,” he would bellow.” I half-expected a finger to appear in one of my bites, most of the time. He loved to get up in the middle of the night and fry up a steak. When I was a kid, I wanted Wonder bread and tuna fish casserole and hamburger helper and rice-a-roni, but my dad refused to allow processesd foods in the house, and made us eat whole wheat bread, plain yogurt and unprocessed cashews. I have to say, he was ahead of his time in the food department, but that didn’t do me any good as teenager hungering for the kind of junk my friends all got to eat. And I won’t even get into my finicky eating habits as a child, which caused the dinner table to be a battleground most nights.

But back to the ham. It reminds me of my dad, because he liked it and made it often, although he would soak it for days to remove the salt and then put in cloves and coat it in some unknown conglomeration. But here’s the thing that I remember most. When I left for college, and then for my life in Boston, and I would come home, my dad would not only make ham for my visit, but also a turkey, a soup (I didn’t even try this, because, like his famous “throw in what you got” bread, I didn’t trust its contents) potatoes, a bread, a salad of beautiful tomatoes, and a laundry list of other dishes that lined the kitchen like servants. It would be like one of those revolving cake shows at New York diners, where desserts are on display. Literally, I would walk in the door and the food would come out, and he would want me to eat it all within seconds of putting down my suitcase. He would bring the ham to me, in the baking dish, to show me his masterpiece, like a five year old brings you a painting they have just completed. Sometimes he would cut a piece and literally put it up to my lips.

My dad and I never got along. When we tried to talk, our conversations lapsed into fighting and anger and slammed doors. But that ham, along with the parade of food he always made me for my every homecoming, was his way of telling me that he loved me. That bread, with the mystery contents, was his way of showing me that he had he had worked hard to make me something. Something especially for me. The amount of food, enough for a small midwestern town, made for a girl who was careful with her calories, and had picky tastebuds, was the only way he could show me he cared. And this Easter (and all day yesterday, and probably all day today until that salty pig is gone) I tasted his love. With a little mustard, and a little sadness. I am grateful for all that food, dad. I got the message.