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winter wonderland
Tonight, the trees were painted in the white of snow, the sound of life muffled by the fast and furious flakes streaming to the ground. Yes, there was more traffic. Yes, the roads were iffy.
Yes, my soul breathed a little. As street lights began to glow orange and illuminate the flakes; as I moved further and further away from the concrete jungle of downtown Philadelphia – my heart expanded, my shoulders eased, my jaw un-clenched.
The man used to say to me that he couldn’t live anywhere that didn’t have seasons. I scoffed at him, thinking how brilliant year-round warm weather would be.
But I think he is right. Oh winter, I have missed you. You are so beautiful, and powerful and mighty. You are not convenient. You can be dangerous. You deserve respect.
And even if by morning you are gone, for tonight, you have made my heart smile.
XLVI
Four years ago, I was in South Africa during the Superbowl.
My brother was conflicted about the teams ~ New England was undefeated, and as Steelers fans, we don’t love the Patriots.
But as a New Yorker, he couldn’t stomach the Giants winning either.
Me? I wanted New York to win, to prevent the Patriots from having a perfect season. Typing that, I realize it was a really angry way to choose a team.
Fast forward four years. I’ve spent three of them watching the Giants every Sunday (when their game time didn’t conflict with the Steelers, obv!) I have affection for them, I watch how much my man loves them, and I love the man more than life itself.
I knelt on the floor of my living room as the final minutes wound down tonight, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I prayed. I cried. I wanted more than anything, for my man’s team to win. It’s been a rough year for him, and I remember how after the most rough year of my life, the Steelers triumphed against Arizona. The adrenaline of that kept me floating on a high until the next season began.
Congratulations to the New York Football Giants. And to my man, so far away ~ you believed when no one else did. I’m glad they won tonight. And I love you.
girl’s night
Lucy looked at me with sad eyes as I grabbed my lunch from the fridge and put up the pet gates. She sat, thinking that perhaps, that would mean I wouldn’t leave. It twisted my heart into knots twisting in on knots. I thought about it all day at work, as I trained my new assistant and watched the clock tick slowly by.
It’s amazing the capacity you have to love when you weren’t even expecting it. My heart seemed full and then I met her, with her wide eyes, and floppy ears, and big, white feet. She was mine and I knew it the second I met her eyes. The man knew that my heart was set. We packed her up and brought her home. We became a family.
Life has changed since she came to live with us. Obviously, the man is gone (no, not in a bad way, in a “he-has-to-be-gone-for-work” kind of way). So it’s just me and my girl. And it isn’t always easy. It’s particularly hard when I leave her, and those sad eyes look forlornly at me through the front door, as though she believes she may never see me again. Seriously. Could I feel more guilty? … Probably not.
But today when I got home, my little lady hadn’t destroyed anything (other than the chew toy she received as a little present this morning … oooor bribe … y’know, however you choose to interpret it). She was bending herself into a pretzel (boxers do that, I am told) and after running around the yard for awhile (which tired me out more than Lucy) we’ve been enjoying a girl’s night together.
New, well-balanced food for Lucy with pumpkin puree mixed in. Eggplant Parmesan from the restaurant for me (I know I had it last week, but it is just.so.good!). A nice bottle of chilled white wine. Lucy’s dragon, Puff (or, as her dad calls him, Draco). A lot of HGTV. And her Yak’s Milk and Lime chew toy, that managed to last the.whole.day.
Life is pretty good. Hope you’re enjoying an indulgent Thursday, too.
rabbit rabbit rabbit
I studied abroad in the fall of 2001. I was in Italy when the planes hit the twin towers. It was a surreal experience, magnified exponentially when I returned to the US and realized that while Italy had moved on, the USA had not. I still remember watching Katie Couric on the Today show in January, speaking with survivors, and relatives of survivors … as though 9/11 had happened the day before. I don’t mean to trivialize ~ I just know that it was a strange thing, experiencing something so earth-shattering thousands of miles away, amongst strangers.
But that is a story for another day.
My whole intention of being in Rome for the fall semester was to convince my parents to let me stay for the spring, thus spending an entire year in Italy. Life before Italy hadn’t been full of sunshine and roses, and I needed something to remind me who I was – somehow, at about age 18, I’d lost my way, and I was still grappling to find it. I worked hard to get to Italy ~ it was my only goal for a majority of the year leading up to it. Even when things felt black and dismal, I hung onto the thought that I would be spending six months in Italia. And that thought was glorious.
Imagine my surprise when the world’s largest known terrorist attack occurred weeks into my soujourn. But again … for another day.
Fast forward to December. Somewhere along the line, when Rome had gotten cold, and riding my Honda motorini to and from school had become an exercise in creative layering, I stood at the bright orange pay phone, and listened to my mother’s voice tell me that my father’s company had given him early retirement. I cried, but it was silently, and with my back to the room. They were still coming to visit, she assured me, but things were changing. My hope of staying in Rome was snuffed out like a flickering candle. My father, who sported a moustache for as long as I could remember (in fact, my whole life, and the full extent of his courtship and marriage to my mother), shaved it one morning on impulse in Rome. Life catches you off guard that way.
We celebrated my 22nd birthday in Rome, eating dinner with my cousin who lives there, at a tiny restaurant run by a man named Augusto. I believe I ate rabbit, and my cousin Sarah gave me a brown courduroy Benetton purse. Creepy memory, remember?
When we came home, we rode in a limo from the airport… reminiscent of the recently departed days of my dad’s job. My brother and some friends were waiting at the house. My shiny red Honda named Helen was there as well. I felt a little like a deflated balloon ~ in Italy I’d remembered myself for a minute, and back in Wyomissing, I felt lost again. I spent two weeks, give or take, on the phone with my friends from Rome, planning trips to New Orleans and Maryland … trying very hard to hold onto things that were slipping from my grasp.
And then January arrived. Cold, gray ~ completely unlike this current January. And it was time to return to Penn State. Time to return to school. My brother ~ possibly the most charismatic person I have ever met ~ had arranged a room for me, through a girl he’d met in Italian class. It was a house, he told me, just a five minute walk from campus. I would have my own room. It would be great.
What he failed to mention was that said house was an unofficial sorority house. (Sidenote: I was not then, nor have I ever been, in a sorority, despite my father’s attempts to persuade me ~ he may have had a point, but by my senior year, that ship had sailed without me). My parents dropped me off, surrounded in boxes, and proceeded to Dave’s fraternity house to settle him in. I stood in the middle of my new room and felt empty. I looked around at all the boxes filled with my things, and I felt nothing. And I also realized that there was nothing to do about it, except get settled in. With a heavy heart, I began arranging my room.
It was during this time that I met Jess. Or, as I like to call her, Minda. She came bouncing up the stairs and poked her head in my room. She had reddish blond hair (although she’ll say blond) and it was pulled up in a high pony tail that swished when she moved. She was much too happy and much too smiley for my present state of mind. She talked really fast. Something about a bed, and the old inhabitant of the room, and her boyfriend … it was whirlwind. And then she paused, and cocked her head to the side.
“Are you a dancer?” She pointed at my feet. “Because you’re standing in fifth position.”
I think I smiled then, and nodded. I probably stammered something about my major, and that dance wasn’t particularly my forte, but I loved it. She smiled back and shrugged. I don’t remember what she said ~ she probably does.
Anyway, she was having some dinner and watching an episode of “Buffy.” Did I want to join her?
Jess and I have been friends ~ minus a small bump ~ for over ten years. When I think about it ~ a girl who moved her whole life and never stayed anywhere or knew anyone for much longer than two years ~ it’s something of a miracle.
Now my friend is a wife, a mother, a teacher ~ she crafts and sends cards for all the right occasions. She married that boyfriend from over ten years ago, and every Wednesday, the four of us (well, technically, the seven of us, counting their four month old daughter and the two pooches) get together for dinner. We call it WeHangsDay.
Tonight, as I ushered Lucy into the Mini and drove over, my heart was full of love for my friend. It hasn’t always been easy (we lived together for two years after college, and upon leaving that abode didn’t speak for over a year). We may not have always been fair enough or understanding enough of each other. But, in the end, after taking a deep breath and being honest about a lot of things, the truth of the matter came down to this: Minda and I became friends on our own. We drank White Merlot and had Buffy marathons. We cooked pasta dinners and taped The O.C. for each other. We, and eventually our significant others, watched nearly every episode of Lost together. When the man and I go, we sit near each other in church. We love each other’s families, we take care of each other (although she’s just way more together than I am most of the time!) and to me, she is my family, my sister.
And every first of the month, she says ‘Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit’ before anything else, for good luck. So today and tonight, I say it in honor of her. Women are tough on each other, but every once in awhile, you find a friend who walks through fire with you.
To Minda, to Toosdays, and to all the good stuff in-between.
how time passes us by
I woke up this morning with a pit of dread in my stomach.
Never before in my life had January 31st held such foreboding. But January 31, for those of you not “in the know” (which included me until last year) is the deadline for issuing 1099 forms. As I run a small company’s business office, it falls on my shoulders to undertake such a task, and if I am being honest, I have been procrastinating like a high school senior working on a thesis.
I mean, I have been panicking about this project.
And instead of just diving in and tackling it (at which point I would have realized it was nothing to get myself all worked up about) I kept staring at the stack of papers and the online QB account with complete and utter fear.
Silly girl.
On the up side of the whole thing, it taught me (once again) that the unknown isn’t really that bad. It’s just unfamiliar.
But the other thing, is that it feels as though it was just yesterday that the man and I were plane-hopping back from Indianapolis, and now, it’s practically February. And the man is far, far away on business and won’t be home until … well, not that long actually, but to me, it feels like forever.
When did time start to slip by like this? And ~ on that note ~ if time goes by so fast, why doesn’t my savings account balance grow exponentially every time I check it? (A little voice in my head is saying, “A watched pot never boils …” but must I listen to it now?)
I popped the 1099 forms and the missive to the Federal Government (aptly given another number, because clearly, it must be distinguishable from all the other forms that exist) into the mailbox before 5pm and headed over to Parc, Steven Starr’s french bistro on Rittenhouse, to meet up with my boss and our restaurant’s GM and Exec Chef to try out some Pork Milanese.
I took a moment, as I sipped Sancerre and noshed on the truly delish pork, and thought that unknown obstacles were bound to challenge me periodically. The man being gone, a new puppy, chewed sunglasses (grr Lucy!!), tax forms, new restaurant development, schedule changes, unexpected expenses, a dead truck in the driveway, a baby gate that the dog systematically knocks down every.day. … the list goes on.
But really, it’s not that bad. I have a man who loves me no matter what, one of the cutest pupsters in the whole world, great landlords and neighbors who come to the rescue when needed, a boss and co-workers who make work a lot of fun most of the time, and the best friends and family in the world. Thank you Ikir, for reminding me.
in the fridge & fatigue-inspired ramblings
I haven’t been a total slacker this week.
The man left for his interminably long business trip on Monday morning at the crack of dawn (bleary-eyed me drove him to the airport at 4.30a, and of course, it was one of the only snowy and gross days we’ve have this winter, which made it even more fun!).
I made spinach and butternut squash lasagna over the weekend to accompany our first venison feast …. Stop. Rewind a minute. Let me re-phrase slightly.
I attempted spinach & butternut squash lasagna. It came out pretty well except for the completely un(der?)cooked squash that has to picked out because it’s rock hard.
So, in reality, it’s more like a spinach and mushroom lasagna. And I have two helpings today, but there’s still more than half a pan in the fridge.
Plus the venison.
And the fixings for the Venison Cobb Salad that I made for WeHangsDay (it was yummy … tomaters, blue cheese, bacon, hard-boiled egg, guacamole, venison, baby spinach leaves ….mmmm).
And the yogurt I bought (because yogurt is one of the eight foods you should try to eat daily …. another piece of email blast wisdom).
And in the cupboard are the cans of Chickarina Soup (I ab.so.lute.ly love it).
So much food, and I have barely touched it.
Plus, I got ingredients to try to make a Pizza Sandwich in the press (three-cheese bread, pepperoni, sweet Italian sausage, pasta sauce from Paul Newman ~ because really, how can you say no to Paul Newman? ~ fresh mozzarella …). I feel like I need to start eating just because I don’t want all the food to go to waste.
I even have a container of hard-boiled eggs, because when I made them for the salad, I thought, well, I’ve been so hungry lately, it might be nice to have one as a mid-morning snack.
But since the man left, I haven’t really been all that hungry.
Lucy and I have gotten up every day, we’ve had breakfast (read: Lucy has breakfast while I try to make the bed, get dressed, use the bathroom and be ready to go for a walk before she’s done hoovering up her food) and we’ve jogged/walked for at least 30-45 minutes.
Then the day gets hectic. It’s all about getting home, and getting ready for work, and getting Lucy ready for while I’m at work (Please God, try to inspire me to fill the Kong with Peanut Butter at night before bed, so that it’s ready as a distraction when I slip out the door), and making sure that I’ve read all the emails and forwarded all the reports, and … gosh, I start to feel tired just thinking about it.
I actually packed a lunch yesterday (pop quiz hotshot ~ what was it? … oh, just some Venison Cobb Salad that is still in the fridge at work in my new tupperware and won’t be good to eat on Monday) and forgot I was training my new assistant, so didn’t take a break at all because training eats up so much time … all of a sudden it was time to rush home and see what disasters awaited me from Lucy’s time in captivity.
And then that’s the thing … you get to the end of the day, and you’re exhausted, and then when you get home, it’s another 30-45 minutes of cleaning up, and then Lucy’s dinner time. And then outside to go potty. And …. then it’s time for my dinner. And, to be honest, a heftly glass of vino.
Tomorrow my little brother and his lady are visiting, and I’m so looking forward to it. Hopefully it’s fun for Lucy to meet more people. And we’re planning a fire-pit, and mom & dad are coming, and hopefully my biff, Minda and her hubby and puppy and beautiful little munchkin Rosa.
The thing is … I mean, what I’m trying to say is … well, I’m tired. But even though the man is miles away, and I’m doing it all on my own, I’m okay.
So my fridge is full, and my puppy isn’t potty-trained.
It could be worse. 😉
email overload
So, everyday I get a few email blasts from things I signed up for at a time long forgotten, back when I was full of naive hope and bright new dreams. These email blasts come from Yoga sites, Eat This Not That, Men’s Fitness, Women’s Fitness …. You get the drift.
I signed up for them after reading a list of things that keep people motivated when they are trying to get in shape and establish a workout regime. One suggestion? Get healthy fitness and diet reminders daily ~ it will keep your goal fresh in your mind, and keep you motivated.
They worked at first. I would take notes on post-its as I read the articles, and plan a whole ‘healthy’ notebook that I was going to compile, filled with information I found interesting, helpful, completely b.s. etc.
On the plus side, I still have the post-its.
For a few months, the emails would get highlighted at the beginning of every day, and ‘Marked As Read,’ even though, as I am sure you guessed, they weren’t read.
Recently, however, I feel that some cosmic force is trying to send me a message.
“Five Unusual Signs that Indicate You’re Stressed”
“Top Ten Foods that Beat Stress”
“Yoga for Stress Relief”
…. do you see the pattern?
The thing is, I am actually super stressed.
No, not because we got a dog.
Well … even that’s not entirely true. It’s a factor, I can’t say it isn’t … it’s a GOOD factor, but it’s January, and I thought that my life would de-stress after the holidays, but as each day slips by, the truth is rearing its ugly head. My life has gotten MORE stressful.
Yeah. I know. You’re jealous.
So, as I struggle to keep the acrobatic juggling act flowing, know that I have a lot of things to blog about … and I’m figuring out how to find the time every day.
Namaste.
rainy days
This morning, Miss Lucy stood at the front door, and peered hesitantly outside. She raised her eyes to her dad, trying to let him know that she wasn’t inclined to step out into the rain. She didn’t bark. And she didn’t whine. Her dad, his heart a big pile of mush when it came to anything having to do with her, closed the door, and ruffled her ears.
I overheard him say, “If you don’t want to go outside, we won’t go outside.”
Grrr.
Doggy Mommy-dom has been quite the learning experience so far. It wasn’t that I didn’t know work was involved. I wasn’t naive enough to think she would arrive house-broken, healthy, completely socialized and obedient (although she’s close!). I knew that I would be cleaning up poop. And throw-up. I accepted that some of my things might get chewed. I knew I would have to be tough.
I did not think it would take such an emotional toll.
I have learned that being the mommy also means occasionally, being the meanie. As I coaxed Lucy out the door into the hazy drizzle, her ears flattened, and she stopped, bracing herself with her back legs to prevent me from moving her further into the wetness. I felt like the worst person in the whole world. No amount of “C’mon Lucy! It’s not that bad! Let’s go potty and then we can go back inside! Hurry up Peanut! Gotta do it! C’mon Lucy!” seemed to convince my distrusting pup that the rain was not going to melt her immediately. She looked around frantically for daddy to save her. But he had already left for work. Poor Lucy.
We did manage to get in a walk. Once she was wet, and away from traffic, she seemed oblivious to the rain. Go figures. One second, I’m mommy the meanie, the next second, Lucy is happily trotting away, eyes full of wonder at everything along the roadway, tail wagging enthusiastically.
Within a few minutes, my emotions went from unbelievable guilt and utter frustration verging on tears to an overwhelming love that bubbled up and made me want to laugh. Motherhood, I am learning, is no joke.
ah – ha moments, and hmmm moments
I decided ~ and I’m not sure exactly when ~ that 2012 was going to be my year.
First, and most obviously, my birthday is 12.12, so clearly, 2012 lends itself to the task.
Second, I’ve now spent two full years in the same place, at the same job, with the same man, living the same routine. To some people that might sound pedantic, but to me, it’s hugely significant. I’m a creature of habit. I, along with the man, have created a life, a home. We have built a family. Through that, I have gained stability, and confidence. Slowly, I’ve come to learn that everything doesn’t have to feel as though I’m being tossed around in a stormy sea.
Things I’ve learned in the past few years ~
1. Friends come in all shapes and sizes. They do not always have your best interests at heart. They are not always honest. They do judge ~ everyone does. It’s okay to disagree with a friend. It’s okay to stand your ground. It’s okay to say, “Hey, y’know what? You bring nothing positive to my life. I don’t want to be friends anymore.” And guess what? You won’t be lonely without friends for the rest of your life. Even if you walk away from everyone. There are people out there who are true friends. And you’ll find them. Sometimes, that’s what you have to do.
2. Family is important. All families are flawed, all families have drama, and all families fight. But in the end, blood is thicker than water.
3. Being at the top can really suck sometimes. You don’t always have the right answer. You don’t always say the right thing. You can’t always be nice.
4. Life is a balancing act. It’s about trusting yourself, trusting what is inherently important to you, and holding onto that, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.
5. Life shouldn’t be a competition. But remembering that is harder than being competitive. Every once in awhile, it’s a good idea to take a step back and get perspective.
6. Cooking should be fun. It should be about making something you want to eat. It should be about breaking bread with friends and family. But take-out is important, too. Sometimes, it’s necessary.
7. You should try all the things you said you would never do. Life is too short, and things are too much fun. So is camping.
8. Save money. Every day. Don’t touch it.
9. Remember that everyone in your life only knows parts of who you are. They may pigeon-hole you in a way you find both insulting and uncomfortable. Try to remember that you probably pigeon-hole them, too. Even if you don’t mean to. And they might not mean to, either.
10. Stand up for yourself. No one else will. People don’t automatically give everyone the benefit of the doubt.
11. Take care of your friendships the same way you take care of your relationship. Be in touch. Listen. Be supportive. Real friends are few and far between. Real friends are as precious as your perfect partner.
12. Live in your choices. Love unconditionally. Maybe people don’t love you back as much; maybe people don’t support your choices. Holding other people accountable for unvoiced expectations is a really bad habit.
13. Acknowledge your flaws. Other people will point them out. As long as you know what they are, it’s a lot easier hearing someone else tell you about them. But don’t allow them to handicap you.
14. No one makes the rules for your life except for you. Make them carefully, make them spontaneously, make them with a twinkle in your eye. Make them so you are happy.
This blog was something I started with a somewhat hazy idea of what it would be. What is has become is a little bit of that, a little bit of something else, and a lot of my soul, typed in black letters across a white screen. It’s helped me get to know myself ~ which is a humbling thing. I think that’s also why 2012 is going to be my year.
That, and John and I expanded our family recently. We adopted the most precious, beautiful, even-tempered, silly, snuggly brindle boxer in the whole world.
And we called her Lucy. 🙂
in my head
Last summer ~ meaning 2010, which is crazy, because it feels like yesterday ~ the man and I ventured to try listening to ‘Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows’ on audio book. It was part of my birthday present to him, because I was stubbornly insisting that he read the final chapter of HP before the film came out. (He subsequently claimed, mostly in jest, that I “ruined” the last two movies for him … but I think what I really did was introduce him to how utterly wonderful the books are).
A few weeks ago, I stumbled across an advertisement in Entertainment Weekly magazine (my favorite periodical that I read cover to cover in one sitting … because I can’t put it down once I’ve opened it!) for something called audible.com.
As I’ve mentioned a few times, Stieg Larssen’s “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” was proving to be utterly elusive to me and said advertisement said that one could get an unabridged audio version of the book with a trial membership. I figured maybe if I couldn’t get into it by reading it, I could get into it by listening to it.
Obviously, I checked it out.
Only, I couldn’t find a free version of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.” Instead, I found a free audio version of “The Game of Thrones.” Which I thought was utterly marvelous. I imagined the man and I listening intently while driving to work in the bitter, endless cold of January.
And then I got impatient. And began listening on my iPhone instead.
What a great book! I mean, seriously, it’s so much easier to follow than “Lord of the Rings.” And I made several valiant efforts to read the trilogy cover to cover. Several. I got through “The Fellowship of the Ring,” (over a 12+ month period) and began “The Two Towers,” but when I realized that the stories were not intertwined with each other, but rather told as two separate adventures, my attention waned. I have yet to finish “The Two Towers” or even crack the binding of “The Return of the King.” And I began reading them in the snowy January of 2002. I know, I know. So many people think they are amazing books. I feel as though I let the story down by not plugging on through. But “Harry Potter” they are not. I did not find, not at any time, that the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy was eminently readable. I just think that certain people were able to get past the pretentious prose and pages of exposition to enjoy the heart of the story, while I could not.
I have enjoyed the audio version of “The Game of Thrones” so much, that I’m going to start at the beginning with the man, so he can listen, too. Just as all great authors do, George R.R. Martin has created his own world, with his own language, geography, animals and titles (just to name a few things). There is a mythology that expands with each chapter, and Martin tells the story from multiple points of view. I’m sure that watching the HBO series has helped me keep characters organized in my head, but reading it is just really fun.
Today is one of the coldest days we’ve had so far this year, and I’m feeling a little under the weather (which is such a drag), so I’m looking forward to a night cuddled under blankets reading. Happy Reading to everyone out there, as well!
D5 Creation