http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdUCNnrwzw4
This is one of my most favorite quotes. (You can ignore the “paid to play academy” sign off.) I love that marianne.
Tag: Gratitude
gratitude-a-thon day 61: stars
I love stars. On a good night they seem to be procreating in front of our eyes. There is nothing like the free entertainment of laying on a beach, or a deck, or a backyard lounge chair and staring upward at a million sparkly natural diamonds. I went to Mauna Kea, the dormant volcano on the Big Island of Hawaii once, where there is an observatory. The stars feel so close to you that it seems quite possible you could reach your hand out and grab a bunch and stick them in your pocket to take home. The only way to get to the top is by car, and it’s all hairpin turns and fog, without the benefit of even one street light. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. So, naturally when I was star gazing, as beautiful as it was, I was also wishing on every one of those damn sparklers that we’d get back down that massive mountain alive.
I have an old tin star I got at the Brimfield flea market lots of years ago, and it’s been living on a shelf in my living room ever since. I also scored some rusty old stars there, which I love for their dirty elegance.
When I was like 9, my sister’s college roommate Liz, was an art major and when I visited their off-campus house, painted on the wall was “Starry, Starry Night.” I had never seen it before and I was blown away. I didn’t know that it was a rip-off of a famous artist, so I was little-kid impressed and I stayed that way until I learned it was really Van Gogh’s, and even then I thought she was some sort of God.
My mom used to do the wish-upon-a-star ditty with me all the time when I was little. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.” I spent a lot of my childhood making wishes with my mom.
There’s something really hopeful about a night sky filled with glittery gems because it means the weather will likely be good the next day. You can only see stars when it’s clear enough to view them. So, being the fair weathered girl you know i am, you can only imagine how fucking excited I get when I see a sky filled with stars. In fact, I’m wishing for one tonight.
gratitude-a-thon day 59: friday night lights
I love it when I can watch a whole season, or a whole bunch of seasons of a really good tv show. I know you might think I am shallow, or I should be reading a book, or writing more blog posts, but let’s remember, we here at the gratitude-a-thon get to decide what we’re grateful for, and today it’s Friday Night Lights. (Lighten up, it’s not like I was watching the Kardashians or something.)
I had gotten into this show on a vacation in Europe a few years ago. We would have a jam-packed day and before bed, it was something we could all watch together, and something that was actually in our native language. But somehow, while I really liked it, I lost my mojo for it when I arrived home and never continued watching it. This past weekend, trying to take my mind off this stupid “PAIN IN MY NECK,” combined with the March Madness Insanity monopolizing all the people in my house, except my dog, I needed a little something something that could entertain me, and the first of five seasons of Friday Night Lights did the trick.
This is a really good show. It’s nuanced and smart, and a real character sketch of a small, rural Texas town. I really like that Kyle Chandler dude, who plays the coach. He’s so earnest and sort of adorable, that even though I DESPISE FOOTBALL, I kind of love him. And the premise is great. A football-crazy town where that pigskin means everything to everyone, has a new high school coach (the cutie Kyle guy) and in the first game, the star quarterback gets paralyzed (which made me stop breathing for like 60 seconds, before I remembered that it was just a tv show), and the rest of the season is just how this event will change the football season, and possibly that of the cutie Kyle guy coach and his family’s future. But while there are all the key players you might expect, the overzealous and bossy father who recruits another quarterback from New Orleans (a victim of Katrina) behind the coach’s back, and the perfect cheerleader, who was going out with the perfect quarterback, and planning the perfect life, before the accident, and the best friend of the QB, who is broody and bad boy and totally hot, and is sleeping with his now paralyzed friend’s girlfriend, but is so cute, I can’t even not like him for doing it, there’s also really great writing. And great acting and reacting. And beautifully crafted character development.
Anyway, I am into like the fourth episode, and the cool and fun thing is there are four more seasons! Pay dirt. Gratitude touchdown!
gratitude-a-thon day 55: the change in season
It was in the air yesterday. That undeniable change that means we are in the clear. The snow has shipped off to some other miserable and cold place. And replacing it? Sunny days, budding flowers, and blossoming trees. HOT DAMN. I am always fascinated by Mother Nature’s clock. It will be snowing, and then one day, the whole thing turns around and some threshold has been crossed, and spring has sprung. I know I could be jinxing us by talking about winter being a thing of the past, but c’mon it’s March 14. (yeah, I remember the April 1 snowstorm, WHO COULD FORGET THAT THING?)
Being a New Englander my whole life, I have come to appreciate the seasons for their mega-beauty and their ability to tolerate immense change. There’s no better model to look at, than the four seasons (No, not Frankie Valley) to understand how to roll with the kind of change I’m facing. Consider the trees. In the Summer, they’re wearing their full regalia– vibrant green leaves, flashy and flirty. October rolls in like a surfer’s wave, and suddenly the trees are turning all sorts of colors, flying their fancy hues, but also forced to face their demise, morphing into brown and tattered clothing, and ultimately gathered into large groups and carted off to leaf heaven. (In the suburbs, some are cremated. May they rest in peace.) And then the winter blows in, and those poor trees hang on for dear life. They’re forced to face the bitter cold, the icy snow without the aid of their protective leafy snowsuits. Not their best moment. But they stand tall, and just wait. Wait for better times. And then comes March, a day like yesterday, and that tree knows that things are about to get interesting. The sun warms those bare branches and pretty soon, it’s like SHOPPING TRIP TO THE MALL!
I am always talking about how I want to live in a warmer place because I don’t like the cold (Let’s be real: I fucking HATE THE COLD.), but I am grateful for the seasons, and how they mimic our lives. And ok, I suppose I might miss them a little bit, if I were to move somewhere without them. But for now, I’m just going to use them as a teacher, a natural guide, a little lesson for me, direct from Mother Nature.
gratitude-a-thon day 54: change
So, my sister moved to Miami a month ago. Stratight down the coast, and away from me. We’ll find out where my boy will be next September, in a little less than a month but, all indications lead to him being in California, Colorado, or Wisconsin, not a hop-in-the-car to visit, not a one of those places. And the month after September, more commonly called, October, my trainer and close friend will be moving to California, clear across the whole country. THE WHOLE COUNTRY.
We are talking about a major amount of loss. Of course, we’re not talking about a loved one dying, LIKE MY HARD DRIVE, but we are talking about people I am exceptionally close to, leaving my geographical location, and well, my everyday life. This is a lot of change. This is a one,two,THREE punch in the nose. This sucks.
But one thing I’ve learned so far, life is all about change. It’s all about the constant morphing from being one self to being another self. I had my first kid at 35. I had worked before that. I had been in advertising at agencies, full time and freelance. It was difficult to adjust to being a mother of a baby, after being someone who worked out there in the world for so long. (NOT THAT IT WASN’T AMAZING, BUT YOU KNOW, IT WAS DIFFERENT.) And then, another baby came. And suddenly, there were two. And I was the mother of a toddler and a baby and full-on into the whole family thing. And it was AMAZING. SO AMAZING. And I was blown away by the enormity and AWESOMEOSITY of all of it, but It was also foreign, and frightening. And sometimes I would look into the mirror and wonder who I was and where the other person I used to be had gone. And then one day, you wake up and realize that you’re the mom of toddlers. And you’re new identity fits just fine. And you’ve made the transition. But before you know it, those toddlers are pre-teens, and boom, it takes you a while to re-adjust to who you are AGAIN. You give away the cribs and the strollers, and nobody stops you on the street anymore to tell you how adorable your babies are. But you manage to move on, somehow. And then in a lightening bolt flash, they are teenagers. And high school comes, and the mothering you do is far less physical, and much more mental. And BAM, you’re putting on a different identity AGAIN. And this one starts to be about who you will be when they are gone. BECAUSE THEY ARE GETTING READY TO GO. And guess what? You’ve been preparing them for this since they came out of your Vajayjay! This is what you’ve been doing all those years, BUT IT’S SO HARD, YOU CAN BARELY FACE IT. And you just want to lay in bed with a million covers over your head because you wonder what it will be like without them. FOR God’s sake, YOU JUST GOT USED TO BEING A MOTHER!
And this is how it is. You’re constantly being asked to change. And if you can’t do it, you will be left behind. Life will pass you by like a marching band. You will be sitting in a pool of pity and shunned like a high school outcast. Because this is what life is, people. It’s about how well you can accept change and go with the fucking flow. That’s the deal. Can you wear it? Can you flaunt it? It’s not about whether you want it, it’s about making yourself fit into it. Because we don’t always have choice in who we must become.
But here’s the thing, we can do it with grace and wonder. We can be the best versions of ourselves along the way. And that’s all we can ask of ourselves. To be our best versions and accept our new roles everyday AND SEE WHAT THEY MIGHT TEACH US, WHAT THEY MIGHT OFFER US. That’s my aim. To see how all these situations that terrify me and make me want to lay in the road and wait for a car, can somehow be part of, and enhance my new self. The exhausted self that is always being asked to change.
I’m booking a flight to Miami right now.
gratitude-a-thon day 52: the nap
It’s 5:30, and I’m up. I’m waiting for the coffee to be done, so I can sip myself wide awake. Morning is my time. The A.M. is when I AM most productive. But as the day rolls on, I start to yawn. I get a little droopy. And that’s when I pull out my secret weapon. The Nap. Yup, if you ask me, they have it right in pre-school, get out your blanky, and close your eyes for a while. I can’t always do it, (but I’d like to) but if I have the time, I’ll take a 30 minute siesta, and check that box, I’m a better person.
Apparently, yesterday was National Napping Day (which I can’t believe I wasn’t contacted about). I should be the poster child for this thing. Boston University professor William Anthony, Ph.D. and his wife Camille created this special day devoted to the nap back in 1999. Anthony said in a statement, “It’s a day when nappers all over the country need to lied down and be counted.” Amen Professor!
My friends laugh at me, when I say I’m going to hit the hay in the middle of the day, but I don’t care. I know it’s good for me in a million ways, and I know my body, it does better when it’s rested and that includes, if possible, a nap. I remember when I was pregnant with my kids. I would take a nap and it was so heavy, so intense, I felt like I was in a medically induced coma. I would sleep so deeply, fall so fast, it was like an out of body experience. All those hormones made me tired like the dead. But it was heaven, the feeling of laying down and drifting off into a deep, deep place, and then waking up and feeling really great. I loved those naps. They were other worldly. Today, it’s just lay down, fall asleep, and like a clock, my body wakes up 30 minutes later. And ba-da-bing, I’m good to go. Even though, it’s just a half hour, you don’t want to wake me up during that time. No. YOU. DEFINITELY. DON’T. WANT. TO. WAKE. ME. UP. WHILE. I’M. NAPPING. Just saying.
Anyway, read this article on why napping is good for you. And today, if you can, try and grab 40 winks in the middle of the day, and see what happens. Sleep tight.
gratitude-a-thon day 51: the genius bar
Fuck and shit. And damn and hell. And all the other bad words you can think of. Is there anything worse than when you get the spinny ball of death on your laptop? Yes, why yes there is. It’s called the black screen. Which is what happens when your computer crashes. As in, crash lands into the trash heap pile of all those near and dearly departed laptops who’s last beep, ding, or crumple of paper sound was made right before they went into a permanent sleep.
Well, yesterday, after watching the spinny ball for a while, my computer ceased breathing. Time of death: approximately 4:38. The screen went black and my stomach lurched like a real person had passed on. How could I feel so deeply horrible and emotionally pained at the thought of losing my computer, a machine with no heart or soul? I’ll tell you how, and perhaps you’ll understand. I DONT’ BACK UP REGULARLY. I am not a good backer upper. NO, I don’t generally fly with a back up plan. So, when i saw the screen of doom, I knew it could mean much more than the loss of my original MacBook Air. It meant the loss of years of my work. (Not to mention at least four in-progress gratitude-a-thons.)
And so it was with sadness in my heart and terror in my wallet, that I made my Genius Bar appointment and waited. It didn’t take long for the Genius to announce that my hard drive had indeed moved onto greener pastures. I started to cry. I couldn’t help it. And while the poor Genius was smart, he had not been trained to handle a sobbing woman who has just experienced a profound loss. Shouldn’t he have pulled out some Tequila and allowed me to swig a shot? Wasn’t it a bar, after all? He did ask me if I needed a minute, but a minute wasn’t going to touch the grief. But alas, I had things to decide. Decisions to make. Did I want to bring it to another private company who may be able to retrieve my information? Did I want them to replace the hard drive? Did I want to stab myself in the eye with a fork for not having taken seriously a message that appeared a week ago, which i cavalierly ignored, because I was too busy and not technically savvy enough to heed: “Your Startup Disk is Full.” Could this have been the beginning of the demise of my computer? Could this have been the warning sign? The gateway drug? I asked some questions, none of them probably made much sense, although this is what one does when a loved one dies. My Genius answered sympathetically. I decided against the expensive retrieval options, and started looking at replacement models. Yes, just like that, not dead for more than a day, and I was into an upgrade. Before the power cord was even cold….I had two really great guys work with me to make the right decisions and answer all my inane questions. They were young guys, and really smart and very sweet to me, which an old and widow, like me really appreciated.
I went with another MacBook Air. It’s being christened right now, with this post. I’m so grateful that I have another chance to start again. I will be going for my first One on One lesson today. I will learn to care for this Mac properly and I bought something called Time Capsule, which is a wireless back-up, which seems like I would want, even if I didn’t have a computer, it’s such a good product. Anyway, there it is. May my old MacBook rest in peace. Along with all my work from the past five years. Shit. Fuck. Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me, I’m still grieving.
gratitude-a-thon day 49: soup
I had kind of a crap day yesterday. First of all, it was snowing and the weather people who I was feeling real animosity toward, were saying it was going to be a 4-8 inch snow storm. And well, it’s MARCH. And I hate snow. And I want spring. And I’m sick of the sleeping bag coat. A work thing happened that was icky. I had the chills all day. I missed my sister a lot. And the Times Style AND HOME section were disappointing. So, after I did some errands (I went to the hairdresser and got my hair dyed, if you must know), I came home and what did I do to improve my mood? I made myself some soup. This winter I have found that what I most want to eat, is soup. My daughter doesn’t like it, so I’m less than game to make it as much as I’d like to eat it, because really, who wants to cook two meals? (Not me, I don’t even really want to cook one.) Anyway, I have been trying hard to get as many vegetable in me as possible lately, so I decided to make some vegetable soup.
Now, I have pretty much perfected my chicken soup, but I only recently began making vegetable soup. And guess what? It’s sort of idiot proof. My dog could make it. (You know, if he had hands. And he didn’t want to wolf down all the ingredients before they made it into the pot. Not that he’s an idiot, because he is SO NOT.)
So, here’s the deal. It’s almost too easy to call a recipe, so I’ll just tell you what I did and if you feel like it, you can do it, or you can tell me how you do it. In fact, give me some soup recipes people. That would be really awesome. Soup’s on!
I took olive oil and put it at the bottom of a soup pot.
I cut up onions (two) and carrots (three) and celery (6) and zucchini (1) and yellow squash (2) and a package of spinach (like a bazillion pieces) and sauteed.
Then I threw in one container of chicken stock and three cups of water.
Then I added a little pepper and some salt.
Then I answered some emails and noticed that The Huff Post was reporting that Kim Kardashian is traveling too much and thought she had miscarried. (thanks goodness I made soup, this almost put me over the edge. YES , IT’S A JOKE.)
Then I ate some popcorn while the soup cooked (15 minutes).
Then I ladled it into a bowl and sprinkled it with Reggiano Parmigiano and pulled the hyacinths close to me so I could smell them. And ta-DA, the day seemed better. The warm liquid started heating me from the inside and the all the vegetables seemed to be saying “Spring is coming.” And the cheese, well I wish it were snowing Parmigiano. That would be a storm I’d be grateful for.
gratitude-a-thon day 48: roz chast
My parents were always avid readers of the New Yorker. We had them stacked up all over the house. They kept them like prized souvenirs. And while some of the articles are time sensitive, a lot of them are just timeless. So, I appreciated the fact that there was always something to read to read in our house. Or at least, to look at. I have had a long affair with the New Yorker’s cartoons. In a funny way, it was really my parents who introduced me to Roz Chast, cartoonist and hypochondriac extraordinaire, who I’ve admired since I was in high school. I have literally been following her cartoons, and laughing at her sarcasm and quirky wit since I was 16. In January, on a freezing cold Friday, frigid as New England can serve them up, I went with my husband, who loves Roz like I do, and whose cartoons have played a big part in our 25 year marriage, and my friend Steph, who came up from Connecticut to celebrate our birthdays, which are just four days apart, by seeing Roz at The Sanders Theater. (This place alone was worth the trip. What a gorgeous building.) Roz was sort of slight, not someone who was at all impressed with herself. She was warm, and talked about how her career had come to be, and showed some of her favorite cartoons, and then she disappeared into the bowels of the building like she’d never been there.
Sometimes it’s a little disappointing to see the people you have admired a long time. And in this case, it was a little like that. I really thought she would somehow be TOTALLY HILARIOUS, part Jewish neurosis, part Sally Cynical, part Ellen Degeneres (who, by the way, is the funniest person I have ever seen live. I THOUGHT MY FACE WAS GOING TO FALL OFF.), but she wasn’t. She was sort of ordinary. People laughed, and I giggled politely, but honestly, she wasn’t as funny as I thought she would be, given how brilliant her work is. I guess I forgot that she’s not a stand up comedian, she’s a cartoonist. I have two of her books, which never fail to get me in a good mood. One is called Theories of Everything, which is big and will keep you laughing for a good long time, and the other is called The Party After You Left, which might be the most descriptive book title ever. I mean don’t you just always think when you’re leaving a party, “Oh, now it’s going to get really fun.” Anyway, I’m grateful for all the years Roz has made me laugh and made me feel like we were sharing an inside joke. There’s nothing I love as much as laughing (except maybe my family, well and my dog, and bacon, and there’s the beach, and hair dye, and possibly a good massage, and a lipstick that makes my thin lips appear poutier, and maybe a sale at ABC Carpet, and any piece of clothing that makes me look thin).
*the gratitude-a-thon 