Okay People!
Get Ready. Battle Down those Hatches. Seize this Moment.
Today is a rarity. An extra, a bonus. A day not to be wasted. A day to do something special, something wild, maybe something crazy.
After squeezing so much into our pre-prescribed 365 let's take our extra 366th and do something inspired.
What will it be? What will you do?
Me? Well, how's about something like this:
"SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 23 - Dec. 21): Do something out of the ordinary today, something even your friends think is outrageous. Remember, you’ve got a reputation to feed: the world believes you are one of those people who don’t care for rules and regulations. Don’t disappoint them."
I love it when my horoscope talks to me before I can actually hear it. Bring. It. On.
Happy Leap Year!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Buck Up, Buttercup
I don't suffer from the winter blahs.
I like the month of February.
I am a generally upbeat and positive person.
Today, though, I am feeling blah and blue. I'm sick (again!), I have (yet another) visitation to attend tomorrow night, I really really want a cupcake with real flour and I'm just feeling like a beat up person - head low, shoulders hunched - blah, beat up, blue.
But you see, the problem with being a generally positive person is that I know this blah beat up blue mood just isn't going to last, no matter how hard I want it to. I wanted it to last today - just one day of blah beat up blue, but then I get an email like this:
"Thanks for stopping by last night, it always cheers us up to see you."
How can that not make me smile? How can I feel blah beat up and blue now? Do you see?! Do you see how impossible it is?!
NO FAIR!
I like the month of February.
I am a generally upbeat and positive person.
Today, though, I am feeling blah and blue. I'm sick (again!), I have (yet another) visitation to attend tomorrow night, I really really want a cupcake with real flour and I'm just feeling like a beat up person - head low, shoulders hunched - blah, beat up, blue.
But you see, the problem with being a generally positive person is that I know this blah beat up blue mood just isn't going to last, no matter how hard I want it to. I wanted it to last today - just one day of blah beat up blue, but then I get an email like this:
"Thanks for stopping by last night, it always cheers us up to see you."
How can that not make me smile? How can I feel blah beat up and blue now? Do you see?! Do you see how impossible it is?!
NO FAIR!
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Foot Forward
I've attended two funerals in as many weeks. Should have been three, but two were on the same day so I had to choose. I remember a time, not so long ago, where I'd get double wedding invites but now, slowly, the tide is turning.
I'm not all that old, my friends aren't either, but it seems like a generation is slowly leaving us now, making days like today just something you do. But no matter how many times you've gone through it, or done it, no one really seems to know what to do or what to say. We look for a guide, and it's usually found in the ritual of religion, no matter what you believe or pretend to believe, there's an order of things dictated from on high that tells us what to DO. Meet here, go there, say this, do that. Everyone needs something to do, to take their minds away from what is actually happening, from the thought that life for those suffering this loss will no longer be the same. This may sound dramatic, but it's not. Within this loss, you live with a custom of tradition for as long as possible, and this fades into a hazy type of normal and then it's the new normal and then, somehow, things are just the way they are.
It's hard not to interject your own feelings of loss into the events of the day. Who are you crying for? Whose loss is this? The Jewish faith recognizes this, and believes that if you are in mourning you should not attend services for another as your grief will be your own and not that of the family suffering. When I first heard this, I understood and respected it but now a few years later I don't really see it. It is impossible to separate personal feelings, emotions and memories, regardless of how long ago they happened, when confronted with something like this. I am not mourning for me. I mourn for everyone. I am not crying for me. I am crying for us - for the loss we all share. There is comfort in that, in knowing that mourning and loss are universal, suffered and endured as rites of passage for all of us.
We are left, then, when the proverbial dust settles, to find a new way. We discover, not surprisingly, that this new way is not easy, nor is it better. It is painful. And ridden with feelings of guilt and anger and, yes, profound sadness. We find ourselves somehow changed, not necessarily on the surface but changed deep inside. All we can do is simply put one foot in front of the other and live. Live our lives for those who no longer can, our steps and hearts a little heavier.
I'm not all that old, my friends aren't either, but it seems like a generation is slowly leaving us now, making days like today just something you do. But no matter how many times you've gone through it, or done it, no one really seems to know what to do or what to say. We look for a guide, and it's usually found in the ritual of religion, no matter what you believe or pretend to believe, there's an order of things dictated from on high that tells us what to DO. Meet here, go there, say this, do that. Everyone needs something to do, to take their minds away from what is actually happening, from the thought that life for those suffering this loss will no longer be the same. This may sound dramatic, but it's not. Within this loss, you live with a custom of tradition for as long as possible, and this fades into a hazy type of normal and then it's the new normal and then, somehow, things are just the way they are.
It's hard not to interject your own feelings of loss into the events of the day. Who are you crying for? Whose loss is this? The Jewish faith recognizes this, and believes that if you are in mourning you should not attend services for another as your grief will be your own and not that of the family suffering. When I first heard this, I understood and respected it but now a few years later I don't really see it. It is impossible to separate personal feelings, emotions and memories, regardless of how long ago they happened, when confronted with something like this. I am not mourning for me. I mourn for everyone. I am not crying for me. I am crying for us - for the loss we all share. There is comfort in that, in knowing that mourning and loss are universal, suffered and endured as rites of passage for all of us.
We are left, then, when the proverbial dust settles, to find a new way. We discover, not surprisingly, that this new way is not easy, nor is it better. It is painful. And ridden with feelings of guilt and anger and, yes, profound sadness. We find ourselves somehow changed, not necessarily on the surface but changed deep inside. All we can do is simply put one foot in front of the other and live. Live our lives for those who no longer can, our steps and hearts a little heavier.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Bye Bye Brioche
I obsess over minutiae and just deal with the mammoth.
Eventually, and I say eventually because I’ve been talking about this forever, I need to say goodbye to gluten. Doctor says so. I don’t want to talk about it. Well, that’s not true. All I want to do is talk about it. And Google it. And contemplate how horrible my life is going to be once I finally do it. That’s kind of me in a nutshell. I talk something to death and when finally, inevitably, push comes to shove it’s a big nothing. Like, big fucking deal. This seems to work for me. So, for the last month I’ve been talking and interneting and researching to prepare for a life without gluten.
The first thing I did when Doc told me the bad news was Google “gluten free baking”. I am thankful my priorities are screwed on straight. Aside from baking with things that sound like they belong in science experiments, I think I’ll be okay here. I’m actually looking forward to trying some stuff out (delusion is a cure for all evil) – hope you are too? I really hope I don’t become one of those people who say “it tastes just like steak” when they eat veggie burgers, because, seriously, those people are crazy.
I’ve been perusing books and cookbooks. Is gluten free the new black or what, because seriously, it’s too much literature. Too much information. Elizabeth Hasselbeck seems to be quite happy living GF (everything has an acronym these days) and I was initially worried my new GF lifestyle would be a gateway to idiocy, or worse Republicanism, but I’ve tempered that view somewhat. Somewhat. Grocery shopping, which I love, love, love has turned into a very educational and laborious exercise as I read the ingredient list of everything, discovering I can’t eat most of it anymore. Sulky sourpuss. That’s me.
We will, as they say, see how it goes but it has to go. It must. I’ll miss many things for sure but the main thing I will miss is the ease at which I used to eat and socialize. I eat (ate) everything. I love (loved) to eat everything. I can’t now because I am a high maintenance food person. I know that the mere fact that I can’t live without my hair straightener makes me a full stop high maintenance person, but a high maintenance food person is a tad worse because it puts pressure on the people you eat with, socialize with and entertain with. There will be no casual “let’s order pizza” nights, unless the pizza joint does gluten free crusts. No more burgers, unless we go to Holy Chuck – thank god for Holy Chuck and their gluten free buns! – can you tell your dinner host that you don’t eat pasta or bread? 99.9% of my ‘hit it out of the park’ cooking arsenal needs to be retired – I’m sorry but I’m selfish and if I can’t eat it I’m not making it. This bothers me. Saying no to birthday cake and other treats made with love, offered with kindness, will bother me. It’s like I’m turning my back on gestures of social norm and acceptance, of the opening of heart and home. Melodramatic moron. That’s me.
But, so be it. It must be done. There is no choice. Just Deal. I should thank my lucky stars I can still eat ice cream, even if it is without my beloved pie.
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