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08322
Today is International Women’s Day.
It’s funny to me because life – that long ago life when days like today felt significant or important – doesn’t really exist any more.
As I scrolled Instagram (a morning habit that I must break) I was amazed at all the incredible women I know. Battling large and small obstacles, always positive, always upbeat. I guess it’s because I choose those kinds of people to follow, to be connected to. Their energy is what feeds my soul, lifts me up, helps me find the silver lining on the really dark days.
Women are incredible. Strong and thoughtful and imaginative and creative and beautiful. Women bash their heads against ceilings to pave the way for those behind them. But women can also be difficult – cagey and defensive and downright mean. Women are all the things, all the time. Like men. Like non-binary humans. We are everything and nothing, all encompassing and a black hole.
I was raised by two incredible women who set an example to me of the kind of person I wanted to be. I miss them both – daily, intensely. But I also know they are both with me and in me – in my choices and in the way I see the world.
I am tired today. Yesterday was full and long. The temperatures have dropped about thirty or forty degrees. The wind is whipping. I will go to yoga. And get a chai. And come home and do the things – finish laundry and make dinner (hopefully!), balance our bank accounts. Possibly read a little. I’d like that.
I do the things women have been doing for decades — the quiet things that keep households chugging smoothly along. Maybe a day or a month isn’t enough. Maybe it shouldn’t be tokenized. Perhaps we should celebrate women and their roles in this life every single day. And be grateful and awed.
Xox, g
25jan22
January 25th is Rabbie Burns Day. Well, I mean, sort of.
Who?, you ask.
Robert Burns was the poet laureate of Scotland – I believe the only one ever. And his birthday was January 25th. He’s been dead quite a long time but has left a lasting legacy through his poetry. Before my mother died she began a tradition of doing Burns Night Supper. This involved haggis, neeps and tatties, cranachan, poetry recitation and lots of whiskey. The Scottish kind, so I believe it’s spelled whisky but I’m not completely sure. Maybe I got that backwards? (I don’t have my phone to google and check so I apologize, this is staying as it is).
One of the great things about Burns Supper is the poetry. John and I hosted once, years ago now, when my mother was still alive, and every guest was requested to bring a piece of poetry. As we all ate our Scottish grub, one by one we read our pieces to the group. It was sort of magical because everyone’s selection reflected who they were – original works, Rumi, T.S. Eliot, etc.
John and I began our poetry collection because of Burns Supper. This year I bought him a collection by Amanda Gorman. Last year he bought me Rupi Kaur. There’s something other-worldly about poetry. It makes the mundane seem magic somehow. It is the perfect illustration of the power of language.
This wasn’t what I was going to blog about at all. I was going to talk about how Ally Love re-posted one of my Instagram stories, and how incredible it felt to be ‘seen’ by a woman i admire so greatly. But then I typed the date. And all the memories of Burns Supper came flooding back. And my mother felt closer. And that felt soothing.
Anyway. Happy Burns Night America.
Xox, g
1jan22
Here we are again, at the start of another year.
Life is unrelenting … but it is also infinite.
I’m sitting on our bed in our second home, Avengers: Endgame playing on an iPad, husband scrolling, both of us exhausted from a day that began at a sprint and ended there, with little respite in between. Tonight is not much different than other nights, nothing much shifted from who we were last year (aka yesterday), nothing changed so drastically as to effect how we fall asleep at night. We are the same people, wearing the same pajamas, doing the same things, finding comfort in the same sounds, the same words. Doing the same routines – Lucy’s eye drops and my skincare and foam rolling. Teeth brushing and winding down. Today doesn’t look much different than yesterday because it isn’t.
Time doesn’t work like that.
I make resolutions every year but they are usually the same. A reset, a ‘get back on track’ reminder tied in the bow of a new year. In truth, most of my resolutions have happened on odd days throughout the year, when I’ve just decided to change and just decided to stick to it. January First comes with too much baggage, too much expectation, too much pressure to be something I am inherently not.
I will blog. I will stay off social media. I will ride the Peloton. I will work toward my goals. I will be consistent and simultaneously inconsistent. I will live.
Along the way I will learn and grow. My thoughts on life and the philosophy of living will shift, sometimes imperceptibly. And maybe next January First I will look back at this woman I am now, and realize that I have changed. I will be able to see the sum of all the small parts and hopefully — I will feel proud.
Xoxo, g
day 45
Some photos with my forever Valentine in honor of the day. He is the thing I am most grateful for every moment of every day. My best friend, my deepest love. 
Xox, g
jack of all trades, master of none
It’s September.
I keep getting older, but I swear, time also goes by much faster! That’s a thing, right? Time speeds up as we age? I think it is.
We spent the last week of August in Hilton Head. We were scheduled to spend the first week of September, but Dorian interfered and HHI was mandatorily evacuated. So, that was a fun, unscheduled 13 hour drive (haha!).
On Wednesday August 28, with my Dad and my brother and my husband and my aunt and uncle (my mother’s siblings) and Jojo, we scattered some of my mother’s ashes. It was a beautiful evening, a perfect South Carolina sunset. We all felt the weight of the situation as we walked slowly toward the water. We didn’t speak. And my father, his voice broken and soft, scattered her ashes into the sand and sea.
Sometimes, it doesn’t feel as though she is gone. I feel like I haven’t talked to her in awhile, but that she’s just at the other end of the phone. And then I remember, or I go to the house and it feels hollow, as though something truly vital is missing. Because, it is. She is missing. She is gone and she will never come back.
I hear her voice in my head sometimes. Her laughter, though faint and faraway. I feel her expectations for my life, and I feel as though I am failing her.
I think about all the things I wish I had done, all the things I haven’t accomplished … and often, it just makes me feel tired. What is worth all that work? What exactly, is worth the time and money most things require? Anything?
I think about applying to law school, studying for the LSATs. I think about not going. All the debt, all the time … it didn’t, in the end, feel worth it at that time in my life.
I think about the restaurants, and the company I helped to build. I think about balancing checkbooks, and studying spreadsheets about food costs and labor percentages. I think … yeah, I did that for awhile. It was interesting. But I don’t want to do that any more. It isn’t fulfilling.
I think about grad school, and taking classes and getting a masters or a PhD. And then I wonder … why? Just to prove to myself that I can? What do I plan to do with all that knowledge? … Nothing. I have no plans for it.
In our ever-changing society, it beomes hard to know what the best choice is — becoming an expert in something (anything?) or knowing a little bit about a lot of things and leveraging that toward success. Also, do I need a masters in creative writing to write? Elizabeth Gilbert says that I do not. So why spend the money?
It’s really about discipline. It’s about drive. What do I want to succeed in … and how can I go about doing it? If there was something, I’m sure I could find a way. I mean, I leveraged fifteen years of waiting tables to do what I did for seven years in restaurants (not important, but director stuff). I made that a success when i could have kept taking people’s dinner orders. I just don’t know what I want to do. I have no idea.
Anyway. That’s what’s on my mind today.
xox, g
ebb & flow
Life can be a beast.
Sometimes it gets to you, it invades your thoughts, your heart. You become angry, feel helpless.
But I also believe life is like waves in an ocean. Everything ebbs and flows. The tough times help us appreciate the good times. The sadness helps us know the full extent of the happiness.
We flew home from Jamaica last Saturday. It was a long day. Snow and ice rain delayed flights … cancelled flights. We spent far too much time in a dumpy airport bar with Pizza Hut personal pies. I felt as though I’d never felt so tired. (Which is saying something, as I am intimately familiar with fatigue!).
But on either side of that misery was family, our home, goodness. Home cooked meals and evenings of laughter. Palm trees, blue ocean — soft blankets and drifts of white snow.
Snow has begun to fall again today. The skies are gray. I had to cancel my girls weekend because somewhere along the way, I got a head cold that knocked me sideways.
But Christmas is around the corner. Family and good food and snuggles. Ebb, flow.
a few days of magic
We checked the weather pretty consistently leading up to our trip to Iceland. The forecast was gloomily unwavering ~ 53 degree high with 70% chance of rain every day we were there. I wasn’t too concerned. I don’t like hot weather and rain doesn’t especially bother me (it more so bothers my naturally curly hair, but ce la vie when in Iceland, yes?).
So it was a super surprise that our last few days were filled with sunshine. The golden glow of the sun makes Iceland even more magical than it is in the grayness.
We arrived at six a.m. last Friday morning, and after getting our rental car (a cute little VW Polo with heated seats!) we made our way down route 41 from Keflavik to Reykjavik. It felt oddly surreal. To begin, our flight had been somewhat painful ~ neither of us had ever done a transatlantic discount flight, and let me tell you, Wow Airlines is discount. So we were tired. There had been several delays for various, increasingly absurd reasons, and then no pillows, no water or snacks … and a fellow passenger who insisted on keeping her window open, allowing bright sunlight to stream into the cabin the whole flight.
The thing about Iceland is that it reveals itself slowly. The mist and Scottish rain were in full force as we searched for our car in the parking lot. The country felt vast, as though emptiness stretched out in every direction. When we were finally ensconced in the car and we’d duly read the driving instructions (road signs for four-wheel drive only roads, how to navigate blind corners, flooded roadways, being mindful of the strong wind, etc) we set off, finding out that our GPS didn’t work, and doing it the old-fashioned way (y’know, with road signs and paper maps). The country-side was fascinating~ volcanic rock covered in vibrant green moss interspersed with clusters of bright purple flowers. Puffs of sulfuric smoke billowing from the ground ~ a different cloudy white than the mist.
We made it safely to Reykjavik, sprawling along the shores of the ocean. It didn’t feel like a city, but a country town filled with quaint buildings and shops. Our apartment was close to a main thoroughfare and after checking in at the office, we headed down for breakfast at a cafe recommended by a friend. It was surprisingly good ~ avocado on rye toast topped with arugula and bright, sunny side up eggs. After eating, I felt a little more like a human so we wandered into stores and explored the area, waiting to hear that the apartment was ready for our occupancy. Reykjavik is amazing ~ clean and filled with well dressed people, flowers blooming in overflowing pots on every lamppost, cobblestone streets, musicians on the corners and street art lining the narrow roadways. Our first day was filled with tiny discoveries of the country ~ clues as to the Icelandic culture and people. We did an early dinner at a small restaurant called “Old Iceland” (it was the best meal we had our whole trip, and we had some great meals). Cured salmon, plump sea scallops, and our first taste of Icelandic Fish Soup. We ventured up to the church at Reykjavik’s center after dinner. Following that, I was dead on my feet and looking forward (very much!) to sleep.
On Saturday, we did the Golden Circle. Iceland has a road that traverses the whole island called the Ring Road, and the Golden Circle is a small piece of that route. It includes Thingvellir National Park (the rift between tectonic plates), Geyser and Gulfoss. We spent the whole day on the Golden Circle. Everything was more beautiful than the last thing, and when you finally walk across the windswept moor and see the Gulfoss waterfall at the pinnacle of the trip ~ it takes the breath right out of your lungs. We walked right up to the side, rain coats zipped up and hoods on. It felt like true, pure, unadulterated magic.
For John’s birthday on Sunday, we booked time at the Blue Lagoon and the LAVA restaurant there. We arrived in the mist and rain of the morning ~ by far the coldest and rainiest day we were there. After navigating the gauntlet of the changing rooms, I met John on the other side, and the lagoon spread out before us, fading into dark cliffs and mist. We waded in, water warm as a perfect bath, and slowly floated out, stopping to get glasses of champagne at the lagoon bar. It was amazing, how blue the water was in the dark grayness and rain of the day. The juxtaposition of the water’s warmth and the rain’s slick coolness remains indescribably perfect. The water was opaque, so you couldn’t see your hands even an inch beneath the surface, and no matter how much time passed and how many more people arrived and drifted in, it never felt crowded or loud. It just felt blissfully peaceful. People covering their faces and arms with silica masks, floating into caves and underneath the man-made waterfall. We found perches in shallow water and just sat, talked and drank champagne. The epitome of decadence. Lunch was yummy, too. We did fish soup again (it is exquisite) and I had lamb, since Iceland is very proud of its lamb. It was tender and perfectly seasoned, served with buttery baby potatos and perfectly cooked vegetables. The restaurant did a special dessert for John’s birthday which was both beautiful and delicious.
We’d left Monday open, because we didn’t want to overbook ourselves (MS has taught us that). So when we finally pulled ourselves out of bed, we decided to drive south, toward waterfalls and black sand beaches. On a small quest to see the Iceland we’d come to know from “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.” The Iceland we saw was better. Full of blinking sunlight and intermittent rain. Craggy cliffs drifting into the clouds, waterfalls dotting the mountainside. Volcanic rock softened by moss. It was the perfect last day, which ended with a walk behind a waterfall and sandwiches from a food truck. As we wound our way back into Reykjavik at nine p.m. the city had begun its celebration of the big Euro Cup win over England. Fireworks set off in the midnight sun, car horns intermittently beeping. The kindest and safest sports celebration I have ever witnessed in my life.
Tuesday morning was full of sunshine, not a cloud in the sky. The blueness was vibrant. We made our way back to Keflavik and enjoyed our last fish soup at the airport with Sauvignon Blanc and cured salmon over sliced hard-boiled eggs and arugula. It was the perfect end to a perfect trip.
Iceland gets into your consciousness, filling it with optimism, with peace and gentleness. I felt changed as we flew home across Greenland the wide Atlantic Ocean. I hope, as life reverts to the routine, I remember to hold the stillness, and peacefulness of Iceland in my heart and mind always. And I very much hope that our next visit isn’t too far in the future.
resolutions
The beginning of the year feels mildly like a Monday — a great excuse to begin again, start new traditions. I’ve found — in my limited time on this Earth — that the day you begin something doesn’t really matter. It’s whether or not you believe in what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, and if you feel fully committed to making a change.
It is much easier said than done.
That being said — here are some of my lofty (and not so loftly) goals for this newest year. Happy 2015 World!
1. I would like to learn to speak Spanish. I was given Rosetta stone for my birthday, and I would really like to dedicate myself to working through the levels and being able to communicate in a second language.
2. I would like to be disciplined enough to sit down on a regular basis, and play my keyboard. John bought it for me last Christmas, and while I’ve worked my way through some of the early pages of my beginner’s piano lessons (from freshman year of college! eeek!) I have absolutely not spent enough time playing. May I confess here that plopping down on the couch after driving home from work is a much easier option? It really is.
3. I would like to make a more consistent effort in regards to my diet and how it affects my health and my functionality in life. Yes, I love food — but I really need to be more steady in my routine diet choices. Zucchini pasta anyone? (I love it!).
4. I would like to unplug more. This past month of mild social media separation meant I read more books, I wrote more things, I cooked more meals, I was much more on-point at work …. I mean, the benefits are basically endless. I’d like to keep that up.
5. I’d like to begin each day by saying “Today is going to be a good day.” And then live it to the fullest, enjoy each moment, and rejoice in the blessings that fill my life.
I think I’ve given myself a plate-full, so I am going to decide that at the moment, those five things will occupy my time and require my full attention.
2014 began as a rocky climb up hill — but somewhere along the way, it got good. I like how John and I adapted to the changes we faced (two restaurants for me, a new job for him, etc) and made the best decisions we could in regards to our future and our stability. I learned a lot of lessons in 2014 that I hope I carry with me, and that help shape the next adventure.
Cheers to new beginnings, clean slates, and amazing people with whom to jump off cliffs.
xoxo, g
tis the season
This morning, as the man and I carefully unwrapped ornaments and hung them thoughtfully on our Charlie Brown tree, I reminisced about how our lives have grown in the time we’ve been together.
Our first year, everything was a merge of ‘my’ stuff and ‘his’ stuff. And slowly, year by year, things have become ours, ornaments with history and meaning — commemorating special times we’ve shared. A golden leaf from Jackson Hole, a horse-drawn carriage from Williamsburg, a snow globe in a stocking from Hilton Head. I love that warm fuzzy feeling when the paper peels back to reveal what had been previously tucked safely away. The first ornament we hung this year was a beautiful boxer with a red and white scarf, given to us by our great friends (it looks surprisingly like Lucy!). John asked her where she wanted to hang it and she replied with a quizzical look and a suspicious sniff of the ornament. It was adorable. She’s still not one hundred percent sure she understands why there’s a live tree in the living room. But she seems okay with it.
It’s always sort of interesting to contemplate the holidays as you gear up for them — how celebrations change and how they stay they same, how you personally feel about the time of year. This December feels uncharacteristically mellow — I ordered our Christmas cards the first week of November and they are all sitting neatly stacked in ‘domestic’ and ‘air mail’ piles by the front door. We have essentially completed all of our shopping, our tree is up, and we aren’t having a party this year ….. So that’s that, right? It feels a little bizarre — anti climactic and strangely un-Christmas-y.
I have led a somewhat charmed life to this point — in that there was not a lot of drama during Thanksgiving or Christmas growing up. When my brother and I were young, we spent Christmas Eve with our Italian relatives (Italian-American — my dad’s side) and there was always a table heaping with food (the seven fish my friends) and I barely ate any of it — and we all ran around and had wild conspiracies about Santa Claus and it was glorious. And Christmas day was spent at home, opening presents and then eating a huge British Christmas lunch (my favorite) and then lounging around in sweatpants watching ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ while messing around with all our new swag.
But as you grow up, and become part of another person’s family and holiday celebrations, you begin to realize that things morph — I think it has a lot to do with children, actually — and even if things had stayed the same, they would inevitably also be very different.
On our very first date, John and I wandered down the main street of Manayunk, grabbing drinks at bars that we would otherwise never have gone into (in an effort to avoid running into anyone we knew …. it’s a long story). We ended up sitting outside at a tiny bar at one end of the strip, telling each other how much we loved Christmas, why and millions of stories of minutiae that we remembered with glowing detail. It was June then, and I remember hoping my beer would never end, and that I could sit and talk with this wonderful man forever.
Luckily, that wish came true. And the first year we lived together, every inch of our apartment was decorated for Christmas — ornaments and garland and twinkly lights festooned every corner of every room.
So this year, with our understated decorations, and no party on the agenda for the first time in four years, it feels quiet, and subtle … and somewhat out of character.
I’m glad this year is going to be low-key, and I’m glad that as of the seventh of December, we’re pretty prepared for the holidays. I just hope this isn’t the beginning of the end of the magic. Because to me, this as always the most magical and beautiful time of year. And to imagine that feeling fading — well, that just about breaks my heart.
dawn
On June 1st, exactly five years after our very first date, John and I said “I do.” It was a pretty perfect day. This is one of my favorite shots, taken by my very talented Aunt, of our intimate ceremony. It also happened to be beautiful. But the best part was sharing it with my best friend. And he looked so handsome, too!
Then … time seemed to just zoom on by. We jetted to Colorado for a relaxing five-day stay at an incredible resort (Kessler Canyon) followed by the Aspen Food & Wine Classic. And then … well, I broke my foot.
It was a very long last day in Colorado. And July … it’s felt pretty long, too!
Denver was pretty neat ~ we were only there for a day, but we walked around the LoDo district (despite the heat wave from PA following us to CO and it being in the 90s every day!) and enjoyed dinner at a fantastic restaurant in an area called Larimer Square. I wish we could recreate the atmosphere of that area in Philly ~ the streets were lined with outdoor dining, beautiful flower arrangements, wrought iron fencing and the entire block was strung with lights. So gorgeous. In addition, we have both decided that while our entire honeymoon was a culinary delight, dinner at Tag was our favorite. Probably because our server was fantastic, the wine was delish and every plate that came out was beautiful and had amazing flavor. It was a perfect start to the honeymoon.
We also had an amazing stay at The Oxford Hotel ~ incredibly beautiful rooms, rugs in the elevator letting you know the day of the week (so charming!) and a complimentary bottle of champagne with chocolate covered pretzels. So wonderful!
Kessler Canyon was a four plus hour drive from Denver, and as we approached it, I think we were both curious as to what we would encounter when we arrived. But it was a little piece of heaven tucked in a valley between mountain ranges and the hospitality was overwhelming, as was everything else. Every morning began with coffee by an outdoor fireplace looking out over the ‘lake’ (John would like to say for the record that it was a pond, not a lake) and each day was full of fun things to do (shooting range, ATV rides up 2000 feet from the valley on switch back curves, hammocks, canoeing, hot tubs … basically whatever took your fancy!). We met some really great people and had a really relaxing time.
I took a ton of pictures on the drive from Denver to DeBeque. Hard to pic a good one. But the mountains were all stunning! A couple more from Kessler … although these are all from my phone (not the nifty new Nikon 3100 that we bought right before the trip … and still haven’t downloaded!).
The last day of our time at Kessler there ware so few guests, we all got to eat in the kitchen. So much fun!
The last pic was actually the last pic we took at Kessler being goofy on the back porch ~ we did see a bear the first day, though!
Another two hours in the car to Aspen, and thankfully, the temperature dropped significantly (whew!). We got to our digs in downtown Aspen, and after some confusion about our trade packets for the event, had all our goodies and were set for the fun to begin the next morning. We took full advantage of the in-ground hot tub right outside our front door, and the gorgeous pool. I wish I’d taken pictures …. maybe next year!
Since the Food & Wine Classic was ah.may.zing, I’m going to wait until tomorrow and really try to share as much as possible.
Until then … I have avoided this blog since I got home, not because I didn’t have things to share, but because I wasn’t in a very good frame of mind. I felt as though I’d lost my way here … and I couldn’t find it because I couldn’t (and still can’t) get around very easily. It has been exhausting and frustrating and a number of other descriptive words. I am lucky to have a man willing to take care of me on every level ~ and those boundaries have certainly been tested since June 15th (the breaking of the foot day). It has been easy to get discouraged, easy to feel listless and lost, easy to get mad, feel sad and basically pity myself. Coming off the difficult and challenging diagnosis of MS this year, breaking my foot just felt like the last nail in the coffin. Could it get any worse? I felt as though I’d lost my will to stay positive.
But as I have (valiantly/) tried to remind myself recently … it’s always darkest before the dawn. And time will keep on ticking, and eventually things will be easier, and I will be capable of doing more. It’s hard to remember that when your dog is ringing the bell to go outside to potty and you can’t take her … or you want to take a shower but you don’t have the strength to get in and out by yourself … or a cup of coffee would taste wonderful, but you have no way to transport it to an area where you can actually sit down and drink it. But having these difficulties has also made me more aware of the fact that we all – whether we mean to or not – take so many things for granted. And while I know a time will come when I too will once again take the ability to sleep on my right side for granted (something I have not been able to do in weeks … ) I know that for a few moments, I will be grateful for the little things that have come back to me.
Until tomorrow. xo.
D5 Creation