I’ve not thought much until now about diluting Christmas by calling it “Happy Holidays.” At first pass it seems fine and PC to encompass all religions and their beliefs (or none). But now I’m wondering if accepting that concept has led to the ridiculous decision of some schools to do away with Halloween. Really?? Canceling Halloween is LAME.
Tomorrow night at this time I'll be at my 30 year High School Class Reunion. To use 1983 vernacular -- what a trip. What a trip that all this time has passed and so fast, and what a trip that we'll be in the same room with people we shared the high school experience with and haven't seen in years; decades even.
I recently let a situation turn into a rollercoaster ride. It's lasted two weeks. Without even thinking twice I slid into the front car of what might as well have been called "The Cyclone." It was a bigun'. The kind with all the thrills - climbing slowly uphill, inching 
along feeling like you could slide backwards, then getting to the top where you're hanging, perilously perched on the peak right before you--WHOOSH--go screaming downward, losing your stomach, feeling like you're gonna crash. Then the loop-de-loops corkscrew you upside down and around until finally you're right-side up, cruise back into the station and get off feeling nauseous and shaky.
What caused this impromptu spin? The usual. Things and stuff. It was one of those deals that had all the bells and whistles that can cause hysteria; great need, an application, approvals, underwriting, West coast-East coast time difference, signatures, a contract, overnight Fed-Ex delivery. Just another kind of situation I've successfully navigated before. But I totally forgot that. It wasn't life or death. No one was sick, no organs or limbs were in peril. It just felt dire and desperate and I let it take me for a wild ride.
Why do we do that to ourselves? I know better (see "When it's Right it Rolls" http://wp.me/p1v3PS-7F). I write this not to elicit sympathy but because I know I'm not alone. These times seem to create a whirling dervish that can cut quite a path. We have to turn to each other to find our balance and perspective. Sometimes that's a soothing conversation about keeping the faith and sometimes it's a bracing, loudly delivered wake-up call that it's time to cowgirl up because tough times don't last but tough people do. I'm grateful for them both; for someone to step in when my ability to reason stepped out.
I hope that when the next challenge comes I'll decline the rollercoaster ride in favor of better management skills. If not, I know two fabulous Broads who will set me straight.
Confection - kənˈfekSHən/ noun: a dish or delicacy made with sweet ingredients.
Just so you know right off the top, this post is all fluff. There's nothing intellectually deep here. It's all sensory. I went to sleep last night and woke up thinking about a delightful confection that quite possibly may have the power to change your mood or your mind and take you straight to bliss. How could I keep that kind of information to myself? Besides, sometimes what we need is just a little confection to make our world right.
I have a new love affair. With macarons. Do you know them? I can't believe I've lived my whole life up until now without them. I'd seen them around but dismissed them as a funny little colored hamburger looking cookie that probably tasted weird. I passed them over time and again for the same old cookies and brownies. Anything oozing chocolate overshadows everything else in the bakery case. Chocolate is king, right? Until one day a couple of months ago when a girlfriend and I found ourselves in a café and bakery in San Francisco looking for an espresso to make our way home with. What's coffee without something sweet, so I found myself laboring over the minor decision of what to select. I scanned the bakery case, saw the multi-colored macarons and thought my usual, "no, those are weird" but couldn't land on something I wanted. Finally as a last resort I figured what the hell, I'll give the macarons a try. They did come in pretty colors after all. One chocolate, one caramel, one raspberry and one vanilla went into the bag and off we went. A ways down the road I decided to dig into my bakery bag. I fished out a macaron and held it up for inspection. I looked at it from all sides skeptical about its ability to please me. "Here goes" I thought as I took that first bite preparing myself to toss it back in the bag. It's a good thing I wasn't doing the driving because I think I would have slammed on the brakes as that first bite yielded unexpected deliciousness. I swear I heard the hallelujah chorus as I experienced the light, spongy, faint crunch of the macaron followed by the perfection of filling that flooded my senses. "WOW, these are amazing," I thought digging in for another bite. The beauty (one of - there are many) of the macaron is in three bites at the most, it's over. It's like being sprinkled with little fairy dust and then it's gone. Their fabulousness can hardly be denied when offered in flavors such as Lavender Poppy, Persian Rose, Salted Caramel, Dark Chocolate, Almond Amaretto and Red Velvet.
In that instant macarons and me became a thing. It was like overlooking the great guy that had been there all along. I made the ones from San Francisco last for a couple of days but then how was I going to get my fix? Some weeks later while perusing the freezer case at Trader Joe's for a dessert to bring to a BBQ there they were - Macarons à la Parisienne - chocolate and vanilla, 12 of them. Not long after that they started stocking the pretty flavored kind. They're not as good as the bakery but in a pinch, when I'm feeling pinched, they are as close as my freezer and are the magic salve that makes me feel pampered, sated and smiley. I've shared them like a treasured secret with my closest friends who were equally as impressed with the delight of them.
I'm looking forward to a long and lovely future of searching for and experiencing the joy of macarons with the sweetest of people.
Why is it so hard to let life flow? Maybe because as women we're wired to Mama Bear our family and be supportive -- of EVERYONE. That includes: mates, spouses, children, siblings, parents, friends, co-workers, our children's teachers, their coaches...I once had my manicurist ask me for a loan - I kid you not. Where's the flow when key things on our TO DO list like make a home, raise children, have a career, and volunteer demand such high productivity? A river can't flow when it's dammed up and DAMN I'm tired!
I have become acutely aware that when something is right, it rolls. Easily and divinely. I came to this welcome conclusion after many years of following a formula that went: deny, avoid, worry, stress, take action, worry, pray, cross fingers, toes, eyes, hold breath, stress - you get the picture. I've witnessed and experienced how when the right thing is supposed to happen it just does. The yes comes about the job, the house, the money and it doesn't require pushing a boulder uphill. That's not to say you can put your feet up and lounge under the umbrella of "God provides." He may, but he also helps those that help themselves. We've been taught that hard work pays off, and it generally does, but not when we push it as far as shoving a square peg into a round hole.
I struggle with this. I caught myself the other day in the shower banging a bottle against the palm of my hand to extract the last drops of shampoo. It dawned on me that I DO this -- I beat out the last bit of something when there's more to be had. It occurred to me that the only things that should be wrung out are sponges or wash cloths. Not people or experiences.
Once you figure out what you want (no small task in itself) it can be a challenge determining the right amount of work vs. wait to apply. It's usually not static; lots of work then taking your foot off the gas. But it's worth the effort since things can only grow with the right amount of space, air, nourishment and time. Plus life is so much more enjoyable when you're not beating the hell out of it.
To accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe. —Anatole France
The criteria that makes up a "perfect" home is always changing. Magazines, catalogs and television channels like HGTV and DIY tell us that not only do we need the sublime open kitchen/great room concept, we should have an outdoor living space. This is a decked out patio replete with rugs, coffee tables and couches with throw pillows. I always think that these areas are outfitted better than my first, second or third apartment. On top of that is the man cave. A blown up clubhouse with a pool table, bar and television with a screen as big as a garage. We women are allocated a space too (see below). Is it me or has the concept of home gone over the top? Don't get me wrong, I would love to have a home full of lovely things but I'm watching HGTV purely for the entertainment value and escapism from everyday life that it offers. If guys have a cave a gal should get a cove; a space to do her thing whether it be scrapbooking, sewing, yoga, mediating, etc. We've been enlightened by Oprah and Pinterest that we should have a sanctuary in our home. Press your nose up against the glass with me and do a little window shop dreaming here: http://pinterest.com/designsponge/meditation-rooms/
And then there's us real people, the average Janes and Joan Q. Publics. What do we have? It's the bathroom. And it's far from sanctimonious. It's not even deemed that off-limits to the rest of the world. If we're lucky the door lock works. But oh, how we make the most of it. For mothers especially it's the only place of respite in an otherwise crazy world. It can be the one location where it's quiet enough to catch our breath, hear ourselves think or read a magazine. If we can steal away long enough we might even get a bubble bath or polish our nails. Sweet luxury! But hey, Zen is where you can find it and if that's in the Loo, so be it. Grab it when you can Girl!
Far be it for me a 2x divorce recipient to give relationship advice. So let me start by saying that this is not that. However with over 30 years of dating experience I do feel somewhat qualified to comment on affairs of the heart. Several years ago I heard Dr. Laura Schlessinger pose the question to a caller on her radio show, "Are you still your husband's girlfriend?" My ears perked up. What?? What did she mean? How or why would you be a "girlfriend" when you had already attained the sought- after "wife" position? I listened a little closer and then began to notice the concept put into play around me.
We're all familiar with the transition that occurs in romantic relationships from "honeymoon" to "real life." There's nothing you can do to prevent it, time marches on. It's a good thing when relationships develop to the next level and grow more serious. But often this other thing happens. We get comfortable enough to think we've got this relationship up and running and now it can cruise on auto-pilot. We don't make as much effort looking nice, doing nice things for and with our beloved or even being nice. I see the last one a lot. You do too, take a look around places like parties and bar-b-ques with other couple friends or even nondescript places like the supermarket. There it is, that uncomfortable experience of seeing one mate disparage the other as you bear witness.
Dis·par·age /diˈsparij/ Verb: Regard or represent as being of little worth. Synonyms: depreciate - belittle - decry - underestimate.
This is not a judgement, we've all done this. We are all equal in allowing this malady to permeate what is supposed to be the love of our life relationships. This is merely the observation booth from where we can look in and see what we might want to readjust.
I think there's some merit to the idea of continuing to be your partner's lover no matter what the length or status of your relationship is. I'm not suggesting we go all "Stepford" but how about recalling what made you want this person to be yours and simply doing the things that got them there. Sure big gestures are great but it's really the little things that are relationship glue. Do we really need a date on the calendar that only comes once a year to remind us it's all about the love? Big profit day for Hallmark but kind of lame if we can't figure it out the other 364 days a year.
So what's the suggestion? Keep seeing your partner through the lover-scope lens. Notice, feel and tell them that you think they are beautiful, handsome, smart, funny, creative, incredible in the kitchen, office, community, bedroom, as a mate, friend, parent, lover. Make a date for FUN, play together often. Make a gesture any day of flowers (Trader Joes has great ones - you're there anyway picking up the groceries), cards, notes, text messages, a cookie or a piece of chocolate - anything that says, "Hey, I think you're cool, I'm lucky!" Speak with care in your voice and bite your tongue when you can't. Extend some grace when your partner blows it, because we all do.
It's true that life + relationships = not always easy. In fact, sometimes it's damn hard. Like lots of things it's a dance where balance is required. Just remember, if you step on some toes or fall down there's always make-up sex.
And so this is Christmas. It's never really been my holiday. Losing my Mom when I was 18 6 weeks before Christmas seems to have cast a pall over the season for me. I thought that would change when I had children of my own and to some extent it has. I shifted from as close to total avoidance as I could get to orchestrating the best damn Christmas EVER. Still, those holiday memories are a blur of exhaustion and tears - mine and the kids from trying to create the "perfect" holiday of gingerbread houses, breakfast with Santa in the right clothes, the desired presents wrapped with handmade bows, baking several kinds of cookies and plating them up merrily for friends and family, planning, cooking and setting a beautiful table for the dinner. I squeezed us all too tightly trying to have an epic Christmas. And, I never quite acquired that joyful aura I saw in other people or the magic described in Christmas carols or movies. The economic downturn saw expensive gifts, parties and dinners morph into something sweeter and more meaningful. Limited resources made it necessary to identify which things were the most important to make the holiday special thereby creating a natural balance that cut down on the craziness. At first downsizing Christmas can seem like a bummer but in hindsight it made it more special.
This year the Christmas spirit is again elusive. I've decided the holidays can occur on a kind of lighting dimmer switch. With kids I can't turn the holiday lights out completely but I can adjust the focus on the things that make it our kind of Christmas. A tree is a must (I asked the kids if we could do a smaller tree and was told "NO") but I came to the conclusion this year that all the ornaments don't have to make it onto the tree. The favorites and some beautiful new ones made the tree fabulous and done without the angst. Some treasured decorations like the hand print Christmas tree tile and the gold pine cone with pom-poms are a must-see but I didn't feel compelled to find a place for every decoration we own. The Santa's Village didn't get set up this year and that's okay. I made a new decoration with some colorful $5.00 ornaments and every time I pass by the table it sits on, I feel happy.
While I haven't been overcome with Christmas spirit, there have been moments of happiness that have come from letting go of expectations of how the perfect holiday should look. I've enjoyed the peace that comes with only doing the things that I want to do and that I knew would make me feel good. The book "The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success" says there is joy in repetition. Sometimes by putting one foot in front of the other and really listening to your heart's desire you'll find that you get through ho-hum to Merry Christmas.
Largely ignored due to the warm weather, I "stumbled" onto my fuzzy green blanket a few weeks ago. I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that I have sought solace and comfort from a favorite blanket for most of my life. One of the best birthday gifts this year was a blanket my daughter made for me. I'm certain it's my new favorite. This was originally going to be a funny post about blankets but something bigger came up. Thinking about the welcome relief I get from something as innocuous as a blanket led me to the following.
Recently my eyes feel newly opened to the widespread life-changer experiences of almost everyone I know. Even in this town it's easy to distinguish the "haves" from the "have-nots." Or maybe it's an illusion. Some of the "haves" now find it slipping through their fingers. There was a lot of bulking up in the '80's and 90's and when those people were full, the banks offered a "better" lifestyle to those that couldn't really afford it. Hell, the banks couldn't even afford it. But they got bailed out. It's painfully obvious that the same entity that got us into this mess isn't going to really help us out of it. Though they pretend that they will. Einstein fits in here; "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." It's a twisted shell game that has left so many d-e-v-a-s-t-e-d. Not just all those millions of Americans but our family and friends. It's so easy to become myopic in our own world view. But the greatness I see coming out of the loss is families pooling their resources with other families to help keep it together and I'm fortunate to be in the co-op. It bears mention that the "haves" are not exempt from challenges. I know those that are struggling just the same, it's only a different scale.
It's just a reality that money is a great equalizer. Another is health. It's easy to have myopia here too. Hey, if you and your family are well it's all good, right? It can only take a minute for the tide to change and you're on your knees (or your back). If I hear one more time, "but you look well..." It's not that that's a bad thing to say or hear, I work hard at not looking on the outside like I often feel. Otherwise is would be Halloween more than just one day a year. And my stuff is no big deal at all compared to what I've witnessed. I watched my own mother battle cancer and recently some friends who've been fighting their whole life to save their son from cystic fibrosis lost him last month. It's the stuff that life-threatening heartbreak is made of. What gives hope is that I have seen, and been personally blessed by, people coming together to carry each other through. My friend Heather says words I love so much, "When you can't, I will." It's the only way we are going to survive and then thrive.
I detect a general malaise in many places that I go. Like a low hanging fog, I see it. Even in the eyes of the employed, those that I have business transactions with. Maybe they're supposed to be happy that they have a job; likely it's still not enough to make ends meet. Not to be forgotten are people who may have money and good health but have a burden on their back just as big. It's worth putting on our glasses to help our myopia and recognize, everywhere you look people are struggling. Kindness is the salve that heals. Apply some where you can.
Maybe the playing field has not been this level since The Depression. Seeing ourselves and others as equally in need of each other, it’s no longer possible to think that trouble is on another side of town or in another city or state. As painful as it’s been, the good news is that we have come to be in community with one another. I’m beginning to see that a good blanket, some love and the human spirit can overcome the human condition.
Come with me for an up close look at a unique strain of mating among a subculture called Foodies. When Foodies meet its not the usual romantic encounter. The conversation starter, "so tell me about yourself" quickly leads to revealing a fascination with food. Subsequent date activities consist of talking about food, perusing recipes (favorites and ones to be tried), and making grocery lists. Going to the farmer's market vs the movies is a highlight. Then there's reading cookbooks together - come on what new couple does that? Foodies, that's who.
A rush of passion occurs when cooking together and deciding who will be the Head Chef and who's to be the Assistant (who says you can't role play outside the bedroom). Then there's the culmination of it all...enjoying the meal, a perfect definition of the term labor of love. It's almost erotic in its consumption and revelry.
Outside the kitchen, pillow talk includes hushed tone conversation about "what are we going to eat today?" Fireside chats equate to standing around the bar-b-que anticipating the perfect result. "Sexting" to Foodies means exchanging pictures of food considered fabulous or rare that must be shared if only photographically.
And the only time Pinterest becomes a couples activity is when new and fantastic food recipes are pored over. "Pinning" dishes like spaghetti filled garlic bread and meatloaf cupcakes to eat during football season becomes a barometer, indicating potential for future time together in the kitchen. Always the common interest and goal is finding, or better yet, creating the next great meal.
Instead of typical romantic offerings such as mundane flowers, Foodies will present the object of their affection with produce such as beautiful heirloom tomatoes or perfectly ripe white nectarines made into a divine cobbler. Or the pièce de résistance - homemade, better than any bakery Red Velvet cake.
If there is doubt as to whether food can be sexy and a strong bond that connects people, I leave you with the following quotes from some of the greatest writers of our time as proof of the power of food. Please leave your comments below with your thoughts about good times in the kitchen.
“If more of us valued food and cheer above hoarded gold, it would be a much merrier world.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien
“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.” ― Virginia Woolf - A Room of One's Own
“You can't just eat good food. You've got to talk about it too. And you've got to talk about it to somebody who understands that kind of food.” ― Kurt Vonnegut - Jailbird
Back to school. There is no neutral feeling about those words to kids or parents. It stirs up a goulash of emotions; excitement, nervousness, relief, stress, happiness, sadness. And it rolls around this time of year like it or not.
There's the run up to the first day of school that includes the preparatory shopping. Depending on the age of your children (and the size of your budget) this can be a fun experience or it can be a nightmare. Finding just the right lunch container, school supplies, clothes, backpack, shoes, etc. is a challenge no matter how you slice it. Just coming to an agreement on said items for the price you are willing to pay can be akin to hammering out a peace accord agreement. And like accord talks, the process usually takes several days and trips to secure everything needed thankfully leading to détente.
Back to school represents different relief to working parents vs stay at homers. I've done it both ways. For the working parent back to school signifies a return to a more regular, less complicated schedule. If you haven't experienced the brain teaser that figuring out daycare and activities for children for 8-10 weeks presents, consider yourself lucky. And then there's the cost. Exorbitant. Plus the whole thing is a house of cards if something doesn't go EXACTLY as planned. I remember hanging on by my fingernails looking forward to the lesser chaos that having the kids back in school would bring.
Stay at home parents are relieved that their children are headed back to school because everyone, frankly, is sick of each other. The limit on entertaining (nearly as expensive as daycare) has been reached and the words "I'm bored" resound throughout the house. It's time for everyone to go their separate ways again, even if just for 7 hours a day.
Back to school time is however, bittersweet. Facebook chatter among parents starts prior to the first day with the flare signal, "One more week until school starts." This is met with responses like, "Whoo Hoo," "Mothers everywhere are doin' the happy dance," and my personal favorite, "It's the most wonderful time of the year." Then the reality sets in...it's the end of the lazy days of summer. It's back to alarm clocks, hurried mornings, stress about the whereabouts of the backpack, lunch, gym clothes, etc. And let's not leave out the traffic and the monitoring of the homework (UGH!).
But this is the beautiful time of raising our children. And as we are painfully aware, it will go by in a minute. We'll blink and they will be off to college. So here's to being grateful for the arrival of another school year. Another chance to marvel at the growth and experiences our kiddos will take us through this year. Bon Voyage!
My birthday is in a few months so I guess I better get used to saying my new age...fo, for, forty.....seven. I actually had to do the math to make sure that was the right number! I sailed through turning 40 but I have to admit, this one is needling me. Mainly because the effects of aging are starting to show up. Seeing my skin change and finding gray hair everywhere is unnerving. I seem to need to add tweezer time to my schedule.
I would put myself somewhere in the middle of the vanity continuum. Nothing about my body has EVER been close to perfect. I was the fat kid in elementary school and no one let me forget it. I got to an average weight in high school but nowhere near the skinny-minis that ran the place. I have gained and lost the same 30 pounds 15 times in my life. I'm lucky to have pretty good skin but that's probably because over the years I often felt too fat in a swimsuit to be out soaking up the sun.
In today's world the notion of "growing old gracefully" or "beauty comes from within" seem to be nothing more than pithy metaphors. Women have always measured themselves against unrealistically airbrushed magazine models but reality television has taken it to a whole other level. Shows such as "The Real Housewives" featuring women that are sucked, tucked and reduxed and are willing to show their procedures being performed only add to glamorizing the pursuit of eternal youth. It's not just in the media that this occurs. It's in our own backyard; it's our family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, etc. punishing their bodies to look and feel better about aging.
Botox came on the market in 1989 during the height of the 80's-90's "we need to have it all" excess and quickly became a billion dollar business. A magazine ad for Botox promises "noticeable results whether it's your first time or you've stopped counting. Results may vary as Botox can cause serious side effects such as problems swallowing, speaking or breathing, due to weakening of associated muscles, can be severe and result in loss of life." This is followed by two full pages of potential side effects. Is there really a question as to whether this is a good idea?? Have we not learned anything from the last decade like we can't have everything, we really don't need everything and the concept of a "perfect" life is an illusion. How does injecting botulism into your face, cutting on and inserting foreign objects into your body that change the appearance of who you really are have anything to do with today's mantra of being organic and going green? Plus, so much time and money spent on vanity doesn't leave much left over for outside of ourself pursuits.
I'm concerned and sad that my fellow sisterhood doesn't feel it's okay to come as they are. Don't get me wrong, I like to look nice. I color my hair "back to natural," get my nails done, try to exercise and eat right because I'd like to be thinner and care about trying to dress fashionably. I still fight against the feeling that a lot of women are doing it much better than I am. How did this become so out of control? And I wonder what men think? I've asked a few -- some said they like tight faces, fannys and augmented boobs. Most said they don't want to hug a stick figure and like the feel of the real thing. Maybe when men tell us that they like our bodies the way they are and don't care what we wear or whether we have make-up on, we should LISTEN and stop badgering the poor guys to validate us.
The saying "beauty is only skin deep" means to me that true beauty resides underneath your face and your boobs. It's in your mind, your heart and your soul. Let it shine Sister!
You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need ~ The Rolling Stones The end of a 3 year, long distance relationship left me at the water's edge of the dating pool. Sure, they say dating is like riding a bike, you never forget. I venture to say that bike riding is infinitely more enjoyable!
For you coupled-up types who are blissfully unaware of what's going on out here in dating-ville, check out these banners that appeared recently over my e-mail inbox: "What Men Don't Want - Catch Him And Keep Him.com - 9 Ugly Mistakes Women Make That Men Find Totally Unattractive." Days later this gem appeared: "Make Him Addicted To You - Have The Relationship You Want.com - 9 Magic Words You Must Say To Make Him Fall Deeply In Love."
REALLY??? The very idea that we women are so desperate to know this crap is sad. Because if our own sense of self-worth is strong and we enjoy our own company, the above how to's become irrelevant. I can't think of anything I want to do less than catch and keep ANYONE. A relationship jail keeper? No thanks. Instead of catch and keep why not just apply the principles of catch and release fishing to dating? And I don't even know what to say to the notion of trying to "addict" someone to me. Can you hear me laughing from where you're sitting? BTW, you guys should be offended that these websites make it sound like you can be "caught" and "addicted" in 9 easy ways. Why is 9 the magic number? I digress.
So what are the options for finding a date, mate, significant other, etc.? Well, there's online dating...raise your hand if you like this one. I see one hand and you know who you are, M. I personally only know one person who likes this form of dating. There's another concept that centers around matchmaking-like dinners. I was thinking of trying this until a single girlfriend checked into it after hearing radio ads stating they were offering a special rate. The "deal" was $1,500 for 3 months worth of dinner dates. They were happy to set her up on a payment plan of $500 a month. Seriously??? That's like a house payment. Now we're the 99% of dating too?! We've been encouraged to write down a grocery list of the traits we are looking for in a mate. This exercise suggests we will manifest the perfect person that meets the criteria on our list. A sort of "if you build it, they will come" theory. It's not a bad idea; I love a good to-do list. Except that I've done it to no avail and I've been recently educated that focusing so much on the particulars leaves out the potential for many possibilities. The new love of my life may have qualities I can't even imagine and I'd hate to miss out because I left it off the list! Probably best not to narrow the field too much.
Perhaps a better idea is to take a personal inventory and see if we are truly presenting the best possible version of ourselves. It's been said (thank you Gabrielle Bernstein author of "Add More ~Ing to Your Life...A Hip Guide to Happiness" and "Spirit Junkie") that when you get right with yourself, the right person will be attracted to you. The best possible, healthy, fabulous YOU. I'm going with this approach and here's why:
1. Following my divorce several years ago I paid a therapist perfectly good money to tell me that instead of jumping into dating, maybe I should take some time to get to know myself. I wish I had listened then. I probably could have avoided several more dysfunctional relationships. Because let me just say, I have worked hard on putting the fun in dysfunctional!
2. At 46 years old it's time to figure my shit out. I mean really, if I'm not cool with me who the hell else will be? I am taking the advice of my new-found mentor Gabrielle Bernstein and for the time being, I'm making spirit my boyfriend. Meditating, watching lectures and reading books by people who have it going on and are willing to share has been awesome. They say when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Hit me baby...I'm open!
3. Gaining a sense of who I am and what I want in a relationship has made growing a backbone a long overdue pursuit. I'm pleased to say that I'm done with what I call circle dating. This is a no-win, chase your tail exercise where I re-dated guys from previously failed relationships hoping that this time it would turn out right. I'm liking the saying, "if the past calls let it go to voicemail, it has nothing new to say." BINGO!
So that's it...instead of hanging out with Mr. Right Now, I'm chillin' with myself and you know...it rocks! Maybe when the door closed on my last relationship the window to my spirit opened. I'm certain when all is right, Mr. Right will find his way to my door.
Please share your love stories or dating dilemmas, desires and triumphs below. Love is a dish that should never be served cold!
As the holiday is upon us (like - TOMORROW!) my wish for you is that there have been moments where the simple joys of the season have seeped in.
For the majority of holidays since I've been a Mom (16 to be exact), I've spent most of the time in execute mode; a slave to the list of things to do. Working myself to exhaustion decorating, shopping, wrapping, baking, planning and cooking dinners. Often too stressed and tired to actually enjoy the fabulous holiday I put on for everyone else.
This year has been different. Like many families I know, circumstances dictated that this would be a smaller holiday. What a blessing it has turned out to be! By focusing in on what my kids really wanted/needed, there was less shopping, wrapping and stressing about collecting everything on their wish list. Instead of decorating with everything I own, I chose the things that really meant something to us to be displayed. The things my children made in preschool and kindergarten really stand out as the treasures of my heart and I've enjoyed them even more this year because they are not surrounded by other holiday clutter. 
We've accepted a gracious offer from family to share their Christmas Eve celebration which has freed me from doing the usual big dinner at my house.
At first I felt unnerved about a new kind of Holiday; would my children be disappointed, was I a failure because I couldn't do the things I've always done? But as tomorrow comes, I find that this is, in some ways, one of the best holiday seasons because there has been time and space to really enjoy the things that are important to us. Like gold pine cones with pom-poms, hand print Christmas trees and remembering when my girls were small enough to drink cocoa out of their own pint size, special mugs.
Wishing you a beautiful Holiday filled with wonderful moments big and small! Please post your favorite holiday moments or treasures made by children below ♥
If you are lucky and so inclined, you will perhaps have at least one dog in your life. And when I say "a dog" I mean "the dog." You know the kind -- the one that is special, becomes a member of the family, that you love and who loves you beyond measure. The one that inspired a bumper sticker that reads, "I wish I was the person my dog thinks I am." I am in my first such relationship with a male Maltese.
I have good reason to know the difference between "a dog" and "the dog." Before our current dog came along, I took in a stray and unfortunately, she was the WRONG dog. She ate the shutters, tore up the down comforters in a way that seemed almost psychotic, and piddled in her kennel every single time I left the house requiring a full scrub down of her and the kennel upon my return. She also had zero interest in interacting with us. No fetching the ball, no petting her, no cuddling...nothing. Although it is not politically correct for me to say, when she jumped the fence and took off, I breathed a sigh of relief.
So the search continued. I looked online at animal shelters, rescues and breeders for months for the right dog. Almost a year later, I came across an ad in the local newspaper that looked interesting. I decided it was worth taking a look and asked my girlfriend if she would come with me as she had much more experience with dogs than I did. As we drove over I said a little prayer asking for a sign that would let me know if this was the right dog for us.
An older woman answered the door and invited us into a small, dark house. She went to get the dog from the kitchen where she was keeping him penned in with gates. Out ran a small, fluffy, white ball of fur that seemed very glad to see us. He jumped up, was friendly and adorable! We started to ask some questions - how old was he - only 9 months old, how long had she had him - only a month or so, why was she looking to sell him? Was there something wrong with him? - nothing wrong, she had been talked into getting him by her visiting daughter. She realized that at her age she was not up to raising a dog that would live for many years - he was only 9 months old. We asked if she had veterinary records for him and she did from the people she had bought him from. He was healthy and his shots were up to date. When my friend asked, "What's his name?" and the lady answered "Calvin" it was the smack in the forehead sign I had asked for on the way there. Calvin was my father's name. I knew he was meant to be ours. She was firm on the price, $350. Knowing him as I do now, it was a bargain.
My girls had asked at the beginning of our dog search if we could get two and name them "Abercrombie & Fitch". When I brought our new dog home I said, "meet Calvin Klein."
My lack of dog ownership experience made it a little like bringing a baby home. I rushed to the pet store to buy everything I thought he needed. Much like with babies he didn't need half of the stuff I bought! I didn't know how he would acclimate to our household and I was nervous.
It was smooth sailing right from the get go with Calvin. He has never chewed anything up or piddled in the house. He is sweet, cuddly, never far from my feet or next to me at night. He never meets a stranger. He dances on his hind legs for everyone who stops by our house or anyone we meet on the street. When we go for a walk and come across other dogs who might start barking and pulling on their leash, Calvin just keeps quietly walking along. He looks back at them like "what are they getting all crazy about?" The best part of Calvin is his smile. That's right, he actually smiles. I can't believe we were his third owners within a year. I don't know how anyone could give him up, but thank goodness they did as he was clearly meant to be the "one" for us. How wonderful it is to have someone look at you with unconditional love, be excited every time you come home (even if it was just 10 minutes ago!) and be your pal through thick and thin. I can't decide if it's a plus that he is the one person around here who can't talk back to me or if I wish he could so I knew what he was thinking.
I would love to hear your comments on who the "ones" for you are or have been (rest in peace). Pets can sure help make life worthwhile, can't they?
Webster's New World Dictionary's definition of the word modulate: 1 to regulate, adjust, or adapt to the proper degree 2 to vary the pitch, intensity, etc. of (the voice), often specific. to a lower degree 3 Radio a variation in the amplitude, frequency, or phase of a wave in accordance with some signal. I think this describes the effort of mothering perfectly.
As my girls are entering and in the midst of their teenage years (11 and 15), I find that it's often hard to know which way to turn the dial on mothering them. When they are small the dial is set on high in terms overseeing their, well, everything.
As they grow, we work on teaching them to be responsible for themselves. This is where the modulating gets interesting. Since responsibility occurs with kids in varying degrees, it's a challenge to, as the definition above suggests, regulate and adjust the amount of direction and support to give kids and in what sort of pitch and intensity of voice. That's a nice way of saying how many times do you have to repeat yourself? And are you able to maintain a calm and patient tone of voice or have you finally lost your mind and your yelling like a woman on fire? The best part is when the kids act like they have never met you before and have no idea how you got into this state.
Remember when all our parents had to do was give us a telepathic look of their directions? And if we somehow missed that message a smack would bring it all home for us. Ah, the good old days, pretty low impact on the parents. When did the rules of engagement change? Because today's kids are definitely not afraid to engage. When I think about it more, I guess this is what it takes for kids to learn to survive in today's adversity. They have to try it out in the comfort of their own home so they're prepared to take on the world. I've decided that kids have to take a swing and hurt you so that you can coach them on the protocol of avoiding that in later life with others. No matter how you embrace the logic, it hurts and sometimes you feel like you're sporting a shiner!
Number 3 in the definition of modulate surely applies to living with a teenager (or pre-teenager). It's all that it implies about the variation in the amplitude, frequency, or phase of a wave in accordance with some signal. Guess what? YOU DON'T KNOW THE SIGNALS! Major league baseball pitchers and catchers have better signals. One minute you can be having a perfectly fine conversation about something and the next thing you know, it's taken a turn, to a place where you are an unwanted stranger. With no warning, you have become someone who is asking too many creepy, ridiculous questions. If you don't walk away immediately, it becomes an argument. The best thing to do is remind yourself that you have many people in your life who enjoy your company and yes, respect you.
It sure is about finding the sweet spot on the dial. Because when you do, it's sublime. The love and joy you feel for your children is unparalleled.
Buckle up Buttercup, because it can go from the sublime to the ridiculous in 2.5 seconds. It's like that old show The Wide World of Sports, where the skier slams into the wall and the announcer says, "it's the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat." It's all that and more and yet, we wouldn't trade the experience of raising our children for ANYTHING. It's what we were born to be, what we are grateful to be...parents.
Acquiring a scar is an interesting proposition. It's the end of an era - the era of your body being perfect, unscathed. Perhaps how it's obtained determines how the process of assimilating a scar will go. Where the scar lands on your body maybe makes a difference. You know what they say: location, location, location. I wonder if scars won through epic pursuits like mountain climbing, hunting on safari or sky diving feel like a badge of honor. An unintentional tattoo of a once in a lifetime experience. Proof of belief in the mantra, "Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather a skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!" (This saying is a favorite of mine, BTW).
What about the other kind of scars? The kind that involve accidents and surgeries. The ones we wear with less pride of ownership because they were obtained in unpleasant circumstances, often beyond our control. These are the ones that beat up our self-esteem and are harder to accept as a part of ourselves.
I've had it both ways.
The cesarean scars won through the epic event of giving birth to my two daughters do feel like a badge of honor. I'm sure their location helps me keep perspective since they can't really be seen. They have zero effect on my vanity or self-esteem and I am proud of them.
Last summer I had surgery to repair two herniated disks in my neck caused by a car accident. I thought they would go through the back of my neck and my hair would cover the scar. Nope, they approach from the front, head-on. So the prize I won for someone rear-ending me is a metal plate, four screws and a 2 inch gash across the front of my neck. The surgeon told me, "no problem, I'll blend it in with the wrinkle of your neck, you'll barely notice it." EXCUSE ME! I don't have wrinkles in my neck, at least not yet.
It was noticeable alright and not just to me. I had a guy at 7-11 ask me if I was assaulted, that it looked like someone tried to cut my throat (all this opinion while I'm just trying to purchase a pack of gum). I also had the pleasure of being questioned at McDonald's by the gal ringing me up who pulled up her sleeve to show me her scar and said, "at least I can cover mine up." I already disliked McDonald's, now I swear I'm never going back!
Bottom line, it was ugly and it messed with my head. I was angry that someone's actions had caused me to be scarred and I didn't feel like myself, I felt unattractive. Intellectually, I knew that I was more than a scar on my neck and that I would have to accept it as a new part of myself. Plus I knew that it wasn't that bad, others are dealing with much worse.
Nine months and ALOT of Bio-Oil later, the scar has faded and I am used to the new me. I guess I can see it as a badge of honor, something I overcame and didn't let define me.
