Friday, September 28, 2012

Be the cricket!

I need to slow it down this week. I was fast dancing all hyper and reckless -- so full of opinions! Now my feet are tired and I'm feeling inhibited. Time to switch tempo (think Lionel Richie's "Hello") and head to the imaginary punch bowl for a more chill blog post.

Cool.
I've talked a lot about how much I love where we live. It's a fabulous area with great people and fun things to do. There's a restaurant right in town called Christopher's that is unabashedly kid friendly (crayons, balloons, pudding cups), but with sophisticated menu choices and fantastic cocktails.

They also have lollipops for Bea. Unlimited lollipops.

Whenever there, we always see at least one other family we know, if not an entire room full of familiar faces. "Hey there, neighbors. How are the brussel sprouts?"

Last Tuesday, we went to Christopher's after both girls finished soccer practice. Even though it was not the weekend or even close to the weekend, I ordered the blueberry mojito. It is the best! I may talk a good game, but I'm not much of a drinker. Wine gives me a headache. Beer makes me bloated. Cocktails are nice, but usually too sweet.

Let me tell you, this mojito is perfect. It's fresh and seltzery and delicious. It goes down like a fruity, minty dream, then gives that warm, buzzy happy feeling that makes me gush love. "Hey you! You are great! So great! My family! Neighbors eating brussel sprouts! Our smiley waitress! So, so great!"

There's a Philly team on the bar tv, dimmed lights, clanging pots from the open kitchen, my kids in their soccer clothes, my coach husband in his, my sweet baby sucking her fourth lollipop. Blueberry, like my mojito. My magic mojito!

It's brief and fleeting, the lovely sensation that all the days of my life have led to this ideal, yet random, Tuesday. How lucky am I?

One evening I did splurge on two magic mojitos and was basically useless for tuck-in time. "Good night, girls, dad's on duty. Mom needs to sleep off her antioxidant high."

Crazy.
Squirrels are predictably erratic for sure. But in the fall, they turn insane. They are kamikaze nut chasers in a frantic race for survival. I've almost run over a darting squirrel about 100 times in the past few weeks. Surprisingly, I've managed to swerve or brake with mere inches to spare, though a quick death by wheel might be a relief to their tiny, stressed-out nervous system.

We have lots of trees in our neighborhood, meaning lots of crazy squirrels. I think it's funny how squirrels just do their thing and no one really pays attention. Why is there such a great difference between squirrels and, say, rats? You see a rat, you scream. You see a squirrel, you think, "cute and fuzzy critter!" 

It's perfectly acceptable to welcome fall with a squirrel sweater that reads "I'm nuts for you!" (Though I wouldn't recommend it.) No one, however, wears a sweater that says "Rats, I should have worn my squirrel sweater!" with a big rat picture. (If you can find one, I would totally recommend it.)

Same truth applies to bugs. If I spot a spider, I freak the freak out. Hate them. I saw one in the car the other day and I hunted it, sprayed it, flicked it out of the car, sprayed it some more, then squashed it and threw it in the ivy. When I go in the basement, I scan the floor with fear and apprehension. But wait! That's not a spider, it's a cricket. Crickets are perfectly fine! I think they may even be lucky! "Hop along, little lucky cricket!"

I guess the goal in life is to be the cricket, not the spider. The squirrel, not the rat.

But I'm still buying that rat sweater if it exists. Come on, crafty Midwestern moms on Etsy. Don't let me down!

Friday, September 21, 2012

Me-worthy.

I am sitting at Starbucks, sipping a grande salted caramel, half pump (and still too sweet!), mocha latte while mellow, hipster music plays. I feel like a blogger. One year and one week later. A serious, never miss a post, blogger.

It's a busy Starbucks. A couple is refinancing their house on the couch in the corner. Another couple look as if they raise emu or met in the hand bell choir. A baby just threw up on his mother and I barely flinch. A little throw up does nothing to my gag reflex these days. It's funny to watch all these new, young mothers hanging with other new, young mothers and feeling so removed from their world – even with Bea at home, hopefully sleeping soundly while Pop Pop watches MSNBC and cleans us out of goldfish crackers.

I love these young mothers. I was once like them to a very heightened degree. Babies are wearing coordinated bibs. Strollers are new and shiny. Toys are brain building. Snacks are organic. Lip gloss is applied. They talk about nap schedules and milestones and diaper lotion. They have launched an exciting new venture and it's clearly all-consuming. And slightly uncomfortable.

This leads so nicely to my Cool item of the week! Yay-ah!

Cool.
My "fall decorating" Pottery Barn catalog came yesterday and I paged through it casually. Suddenly it occurred to me that I didn't care so much.

I hate when people make bold, yet vague, statements like, "I could finally be myself once I turned forty" or "It's so freeing not to worry about what anyone else thinks!" What does that mean exactly?

Truth is, I still worry about being judged. Mostly by other mothers. It's all part of the sport... and I chose to play.

But the super honest truth is, I don't care nearly as much as I did a decade ago. And things like home decor, my brand of purse, coordinated bibs and fresh lip gloss have zero power. I am so over it.

I like my house. I love it, actually. I believe your home should be happy, uncluttered and welcoming. I like to decorate. Always have. For many years, the fall home catalogs killed me. I wanted it all. I wanted the leaf garland draped across my fireplace, the upscale and cerebral Halloween accents (cut-outs of Poe's ravens), the rustic Thanksgiving earthenware with painted cornucopia. I longed to create a beautiful and warm environment as the weather cooled. But alas, I was too conscious of money (stop laughing, Jon) and never bought much. Just sulked and dreamed of holiday tables packed with dramatic, magazine-worthy style. Someday.

Well someday is here and what I've learned is the "more comfortable in your skin" thing is actually true. I desired that stuff when I couldn't have it. Now I can, and it means zip. Instead, I've acquired a mish mosh of fall decor – an extensive collection of random items that includes a laminated apple tree drawing, a sparkly skeleton that leaves green glitter trails everywhere and a fat brown bag turkey, lovingly crafted by Edy. (That wobbly-headed bird could possibly be my favorite thing on the planet.) Not magazine-worthy. But me-worthy.

Crazy.
As a real blogger (see post intro), I tend to read other blogs a lot. There are many that I like. There are many that are terribly written and/or boring. And then there are some that are well written, interesting, and infuriating because they spew icky ideas. They will go as far as calling themselves righteous and judgmental because if it's already out there, you can't use it against them.

A very sweet and well-meaning young woman, who is also a blogger and very sweet (did I mention that?) reposted a blog entry concerning premarital sex. In it, a newly married man talks about "saving himself." According to his (awkward) gushing, his wedding day and night were so incredibly perfect, it is beyond anything anyone else who doesn't follow his way of thinking and doing could ever, ever understand. Ever. He's kind of mean about it, too.

Hey, I'm real happy for this guy and his lovely chaste wife. It takes real chutzpah to claim total success a few steps into the journey. Marriage is tough. You say you have the ideal foundation because you did things the "right" way, but what if that sets you up for eventual disappointment.

You can't know what works for everyone. You just can't. There are plenty of happy, fulfilled people on the planet who aren't like you. I don't understand the need to preach. I truly don't. I understand sharing your experience, explaining what works for you (if asked) but when someone is so sure of one path, it makes me think they aren't so sure.

Dear male blogger, who's to say your vision of perfect won't eventually destroy you because it's an impossible ideal? That you won't be emotionally flattened by the monotony of everyday life, or by money problems, jealousy or rage? (You seem like someone with a tendency towards intolerance.) Or that your wife won't reevaluate the choices she's made after your baby throws up (on everything but his coordinated bib) in Starbucks.

Which is where I am still sitting, a little lighter after that mild rant. It sounds like The Big Chill soundtrack is playing as I sip my cup of hot confection. A retro soundtrack from a movie that is now retro. Feeling retro myself, but also very comfortable.

P.S. I acknowledge this is my second straight post dissing men. First the nutty, radical, red-faced rioters and now this blogger guy I never met. I really do love men. Just a coincidence. Next week I'll write about crumbs in the cushions or the rabid skunk that attacked a neighbor.


Friday, September 14, 2012

Crazy/Cool

Are you ready for excitement galore? Here's the new format for my blog: Crazy/Cool. This thrilling new theme narrowly edged out Concerned/Content, which is essentially the same concept but lacks zippy appeal and seems like the musings of an active senior living resident.

I will post every week about something that is a little unsettling/strange/annoying/weird (Crazy). And to balance my universe, I will also post something that makes me happy (Cool). Broad, but with direction. I like it! Now where to start?

Crazy.
I was going to write about last weekend when we ran out of paper towels and I almost went insane. Extra-thick and quilted, patterned with bird houses or bears, select-a-size (my personal favorite), even the cheap brands that are rough and see-through. I missed them all! I am clearly not able to cope without. I would be the world's worst pioneer and should any sort of disaster, natural or otherwise, destroy our supply chain of "goods," I'd be the first to surrender and/or die.

But then there was some real news that was, believe it or not, crazier than my paper towel drought.

Unrest in the middle east is no big surprise, but it is very sad that four Americans were killed because a movie trashes Islam. A movie that is intentionally incendiary. Why let it succeed?

I say this to you, sweaty men who are climbing fences and throwing things (on fire) from the back of pick up trucks, your rage is causing the attention. A little peaceful opposition, and it'd be over by now.

But alas, I've seen many movie-related articles pop up on my computer today. People are curious. What's up with the movie? It was the top story on the legitimate news and even The Insider covered the escalating violence before cutting to a montage on Britney's popstar physique. (It is achievable!)

If you didn't riot, there would be no story. You gave the power to this stupid, low-budget piece of cinematic crap. Stop rioting. Stop it. Stop killing, too.

But I know you won't listen to me because I'm a girl. There were definitely no girls in the back of those pick-up trucks.

I realize the conflict in the middle east is complicated and has been brewing for thousands of years. I realize real people have been hurt and cultures have been offended. I confess that I am not a scholar on the region, though I do love a good flat bread.

Cool.
I need something exceptionally sweet to counter that crazy mess.

Today I drew a pathetic star for Bea to color and she looked at me like I produced a miracle on paper. But I can't really elaborate on that so it's not my official cool item. But it was cool. Cute cool. Wait until she sees my tulip! 

Instead, I'm sticking to an international topic (I am so worldly) and choosing Will and Kate on their Asian adventure. Love her smart (and roomy?) suits and the way he can work a balding head.

They can do whatever and make their bland speeches about whatever, but all anyone wants to report is whether she's pregnant or not. Enough with the ceremonial toasts! She requests water, and the press goes wild! I totally think she is, by the way, and it's all good. On the clean, well-packaged surface it's good... but also in the deeper layers where Will could love a commoner and no one goes to the guillotine. Good!

I hope they have a girl.

Friday, September 7, 2012

One year down.

This is it. Post #52. My final question.

Last year, when I decided to blog it was primarily to sell my journals. To reach out to the world of new(ish) media. I chose to start in September because the big girls were back in school and I had a bit more time to myself. Just a little.

September also seemed ideal because it spans the time between the anniversary of Gail's death (8/29) and the anniversary of my mother's (9/29). High emotion makes for better, more motivated writing. Take it out on the keyboard!

So I wrote my first post last September and updated faithfully every week. When I commit to something, I really commit. Unless it's a yoga DVD.

What I never factored into my timing was the personal significance of this final month. I am 41 and 4 months, Gail's age when she passed away. Strange coincidence.

Truthfully, 41 and 4 months never seemed old to me. It was always, always unfairly young. But six years ago, it was far enough in my future that I felt safe.

Now I'm here. Now I'm her. I've arrived to the station where she got off. It's very weird.

The bottom line is, I couldn't imagine leaving the world at 41 and 4 months. I have too much left to do.

What would you still like to accomplish in your life?

I would like to finish raising my kids because they need me. Lu, who is painfully self-conscious and teetering on teenhood. She needs a daily ego boost with her bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Edy, who could possibly have too much confidence and eczema flare-ups only I can manage. And Bea, who at this point wouldn't remember me at all – which breaks my heart because I put a lot of effort into her happiness. Every darn day.

I would like to take my business to a higher, more respectable level. I would like to use my success to support charity and promote positivity. I would like to make an impact beyond my home by stepping outside of my comfort zone, both literally and figuratively. (I really do enjoy my cozy house and its 24/7 access to Bravo TV.)

I would like to continue writing.

I would like to do a better job of keeping up with my amazing friends.

I would like to retire with Jon someday and travel. He has informed me that he will never, ever drive a Winnebago around the country and I have informed him that I would not, could not live in Florida. I envision a place at the shore and lots of flights to exotic ports. Can you see me posing in front of the acropolis in practical footwear and a visor? I can!

I would like to know my grandchildren.

Thanks for reading my blog! I still plan to post every Friday, though with a different tone. We'll see how it goes.

Also, I am currently revamping my website and will tie it all together in a way that totally makes sense – blog, business, charity. Stay tuned! Exciting times! As long as I'm here and healthy, I will stay busy! 

Below are all the questions from the past year. A recap for those who like things recapped. This took me a million minutes to copy, paste and compile. So please glance it and if you see me, tell me it made your day.

If you were to do anything else with your life, besides what you already do, what would that be?

When was the last time you felt a genuine wave of excited anticipation?


What is your favorite current advertising campaign (good or bad) and why is it so memorable?


What animal has had the biggest impact on your life?


If you could drop it all and get away for a long weekend by yourself, where would you go and what would you do?


What was your most memorable Halloween costume?


What major life events have you faced and what lessons did you learn?


Have you ever had a brush with fame, met a celebrity, or been on TV?


Describe one thing about your life right now that you want to remember, but you know you'll probably forget.


What are your shopping memories? How would you describe your shopping habits?


How was your childhood home decorated for the holidays? Describe your current holiday decorating style?


What are your thoughts on the after-life?


What makes you feel old? What makes you feel young?


What is your most memorable holiday moment?



What are your thoughts on New Year's Eve? 
How many New Year's Eves can you recall?


Describe yourself at 10.

List three things you love about where you live.


What is your history of giving back and what do you currently do to serve your community?


How do you feel about cooking?


What exercise do you prefer and why?


What do you love about your family?


What have you won in your life? What would you do if you hit a big jackpot? What are your thoughts on chance?

What is your history with colds, flus and other common illnesses?


What memories do you have of winter weather?


Describe your typical weekday.


What do you choose to repeat from your childhood, and what do you choose to change?


What difficult decision(s) have you made lately?


What's the most adventurous/extreme/crazy thing you've done? Would you do it again?


What are your memories of Easter or Passover or the Spring Equinox if that suits you better?


How would you describe your history of popularity?


What is something seemingly selfish you’ve been meaning to do and should move to the top of your priority list – right now – in honor of Gail's birthday?


List ten (or eleven) artists and albums that have had meaning in your life.


What are the most memorable concerts or live music shows you've attended?


Mother's Day. Thoughts?


What smells bring back memories for you?


How have your friends shown love and support during a difficult time?


Have you ever felt completely over something. Finished, done, ready to move on without looking back?


Have you had or do you have any nicknames?


Did you go to camp? What are your camp memories?


What summer storms do you remember most?


Fourth of July. What are your memories?


What memories do you have from your own wedding or from attending someone else's? What did you like? What would you do differently?


What books have been important in your life?


What are your memories and random thoughts on the Olympics?


What were your first summer jobs?


Pick a memory that is missing details and ask someone to fill in the blanks. Then write it down!!! Please. Don't make me cyber beg.


Write down a beach memory. Any beach memory.


How do you feel about your hair? Through the years, what were some of your hair highlights and lowlights (ha!)?


What are your back-to-school memories and how do you feel about this time of year?