Stillness

I forgot to bring a spoon to work today, so I’m scooping my yogurt with an old straw. Since the straw is cracked in places, I can’t use it to suck up the yogurt; instead, I’m scooping. So in case you’ve ever wondered how long it takes to scoop up a yogurt with a straw, it’s looking like a half hour.

Anyway, so when’s the last time you listened to a dork extol the virtues of being a dork?

Get ready.

My weekend starts on Fridays, and while I have some pleasurable weekend activities lined up, there is one activity in particular that I am especially excited about.

Let me explain.

This is a crowded planet for introverts. Say an extrovert takes a walk on the beach, and he only sees five people, who all either wave or engage him in conversation. That extrovert will go home and exclaim to his family,

“Great walk, but the beach was completely deserted.”

Put an introvert on that same beach, and he will go home in a bad mood and say the following:

“I tried taking a walk on the beach for some peace and quiet, but it was packed with chatty people.”

I have trouble finding places to work in peace, and when I say peace, I mean peace. No phones, no banging doors, no screaming kids, and especially no assholes talking at full volume on their cell phones who ignore signs that ask them to not talk on their cell phones in public.

(If you do this, you will be consigned to one of Dante’s Circles of Hell. And you’ll deserve it).

I have searched far and wide for quiet work rooms. Reading rooms. Just a table, a chair, an outlet and maybe a view, but that last is negotiable. It’s harder than you think to find somewhere to hunker down where NO ONE WILL BOTHER YOU. The Universe does not like people who want to be unbothered. The Universe will go to great lengths to make sure to bother you, all the time, with noise and minutiae.

Here comes the dorky part.  

I have a lot of work to catch up on this weekend, like evaluations, emails, grading, and personal writing submissions, and I am happy to announce that I have found my Nirvana. A quiet work room tucked so far back in a building that the only person who knows I’m there is the desk clerk who smiles at me when I arrive, and checks on me intermittently with a kind smile and a “thumbs-up” through the window.

So after the gym on Saturday morning, I’m headed straight there. I will have packed my snacks and a cup of hot coffee, and some pleasure reading for breaks. And I will luxuriate in this room, working and thinking and enjoying the quiet, until my work is done.

The thought makes me giddy with pleasure. Because once I get home later that day, I can enjoy the rest of the weekend knowing my work is done, and that I got my dose of solitude. My battery will be completely charged, and I will be filled with a sense of stillness that will permeate everything I do.

So I hope whatever you are doing, you are able to enjoy your own stillness, whatever that entails. I know I will.

Gift Smarter, Not Harder

One Christmas many years ago, I unwrapped a gift from my late husband and saw the inscription on the box:

Pajama-Gram.

I was stoked, because he had remembered that I had asked for pajamas for Christmas. I eagerly pulled the contents out of the box and just sat there staring.

“Whattya think? You like ‘em?”

His happiness and enthusiasm over having bought me something he knew I liked was endearing, and of course I told him I looooooved my new pajamas.

I tried after that, through the years, to wear them in front of him so he would see that I appreciated his gift. But I always had to take them off after a few hours, and inevitably, I donated them with the tags still, new and barely worn.

Why?

They were heavy fleece footie pajamas. I get hot in 55 degrees. I barely wear a coat. I haven’t worn my heavy duty Uggs in years, because it doesn’t get cold enough here, and my feet sweat. I worried that if I wore these fleece jammies anywhere other than, say, Antarctica, that I would be found in my bed in the morning, melted into a gooey puddle of middle-aged estrogen.

It was a sweet gift, but it amazed me that after twenty winters of fighting over the thermostat (he wanted it up, I wanted it down), after twenty years of arguing over the car heater (he wanted it blasting, I wanted it off), after twenty years of him listening to me complain about heat and humidity, that he would have thought the one thing I wanted in my life was to be forcibly jammed into a woolen straitjacket.

Gift-giving can be daunting, but thanks to my dear friend Ingrid Fetell Lee, here are some tips to make the gift-giving season a little easier:

Give something living. Plants reduce stress and add a bit of timeless joy to any space. Try The Sill.

Give something abundant. My youngest son was addicted to Utz Cheese Balls when he was young, so one Christmas I bought him that huge Utz tub of cheese balls. He kept it in his room, and inevitably finished it. Your brother likes avocados? Buy him a bag of them. Your son likes golf balls? Get him a bucket. Your daughter likes fuzzy socks? Buy her a cute tote bag, and fill it up.

Give something that creates time and space. A voucher for car detailing. A gift card for housecleaning. A flight upgrade to first-class.

Give something that makes a tough time easier. A book light, a birdfeeder, a scented candle, crystals.

Give something handmade. Two Christmases ago I typed up all of my father’s handwritten educational stories that he had entrusted to me, had them bound into a spiral notebook, and gave one to each member of the family. Big hit.

Give something that offers a moment of surprise or enchantment. Go on Goldbelly, already. You won’t regret it once you hear the “Wooooooow”s.

Give something that helps create memories. A digital frame, a vacation, a restaurant gift card.

Give something you love. Are there books you’ve read recently that you’d love to discuss with this person? Do you have a special recipe you could share? A tool you’ve discovered that makes life so much easier? Do you have special knowledge of new gadgets, wines, etc.? 

And remember the rules. Don’t preach and don’t assume. Don’t get her a Peloton unless she asked for it, some women get touchy about that. If you’re not sure of her size, don’t size up to a double XXL, unless you want to get a dirty look. Avoid getting alcohol unless you know the person, and don’t give out gifts with your logo. It’s cheesy.

Oh, give cheese. Everyone loves cheese. Just make sure they’re not lactose intolerant.

22 Tips to Save Money

Financial guru Dave Ramsey happens to be a close personal friend of mine, and he sent me some great advice via a broadly-generated newsletter sent out to millions of subscribers entitled, “22 Tips to Save Money.” I’m going to re-create them for you here, since I was just pleased-as-punch that I am currently following most of these rules.

Enjoy.

  1. Use the debt snowball method to get rid of debt. As in, pay smaller debt off first and work your way up. Smallest to largest.
  2. Cut down your grocery budget. With barely anyone home anymore, I have cut down my grocery bill by 80%. Even when I make small trips, grocery store prices are outrageous right now. The other day I punched in my coupon card number, and I watched as the total went UP instead of down. When I complained to the register lady, she told me it was my imagination. Um, no, it wasn’t.
  3. Cancel automatic subscriptions and memberships. There were so many small fees (dollar here, three dollars there, it adds up) going on my American Express Platinum card that I finally went online to chat with them. Being such a loyal customer for thirty years, they were more than happy to block the vendors who are charging me for things I don’t even recognize. I’ve been getting angry petulant emails from these vendors. Guess they’re mad because their Sugar Momma has dried up. Too bad, so sad. Buh-bye.
  4. Buy generic. I’m not a huge fan of this, as you know. I like my high-quality wares.
  5. Cut ties with cable. I haven’t cut ties with my cable, but I’ve definitely been battling them. I now have a small monthly bill that I can live with, so if you have to, get them on the phone and duke it out. Ya gotta go to the mattresses, or they’ll milk you for every dime they can.
  6. Save money automatically. Make it so you pay yourself first. Direct deposit will automatically take money out of your paycheck and put it into your savings. You won’t even need to think about it.
  7. Spend extra or unexpected income wisely. Tax refund? A rebate? Decide where it can be put to best use before you blow it on a Moncler puffy coat. But if I must say, a Moncler puffy coat is such a great investment. I love mine.
  8. Reduce energy costs. My energy costs have gone down significantly, because none of my troglodytes are home. Over the holidays, my utilities will skyrocket again. The boys know to keep showers short, lights off, and the thermostat low.
  9. Unsubscribe from emails. This is so cathartic for me, it’s almost like therapy. I sign up for a newsletter to get 10% off, and as soon as I start getting the newsletter, I unsubscribe. This helps to resist temptation, because who can resist a slouchy red turtleneck for the holidays? You can, if you can’t see it.
  10. Check your insurance rates. I have an amazing auto insurance policy, but recently I tried to see if I could get my monthly payment down. No go. My boys are still too young and considered too high a risk. But at least I tried.
  11. Pack lunch. I loooooove eating out, but even I have been shocked at some recent restaurant bills that have been handed to me. We save eating out for special occasions, and try to make those times breakfast, which is the cheapest option. When I am on campus, I have all of my food for the day.
  12. Ask about discounts. You won’t know unless you ask, right? When I was settling a final AT&T bill last month, the rep was kind enough to tell me I could get a college educator’s discount. My phone bill is so low right now, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you. It only took me four years and a half dozen blogs, but I’m now paying the same for four i-Phones as many people pay for just one. It’s a beautiful thing.
  13. Start a 401k. I don’t know how old you are, but if you’re working, you should have one. Just make sure you’re out of debt first.
  14. Lower your cell phone bill. You know what I’ve gone through with AT&T, because I’ve blogged about it. See #12. It wasn’t easy, but I did it.
  15. Try a spending freeze. A week. A month. Only the essentials. Let me know how it goes, I’ve only made it through a few days.
  16. DIY. Not my thing, but go for it. Make Christmas presents. Do your own home repairs. I personally like leaving it to the professionals.
  17. Skip the coffee shop. I make my own, and rarely stop for coffee. When I do, it’s black only. I’ve watched people fork over a ten-dollar bill for a coffee confection with 1500 calories. But hey, we all have our guilty pleasures, don’t we? If you like your fancy coffees, enjoy them. You only live once.
  18. The library is your friend. It certainly is. But I still buy books, too. I hate deadlines.
  19. Try a staycation. I’m in one now, and let me say with all honesty that THEY SUCK. But it definitely saves money to stay at home.
  20. Use cash back and coupons. If you really work them correctly, you can save tons. But you have to stay vigilant.
  21. Refinance your mortgage. I’ve been in talks about this, but my mortgage is pretty good. Probably not touching it, but we’ll see.
  22. Sell anything that doesn’t bring you joy. So my scale. My dishwasher. My grade book. My blood pressure cuff. My toilet wand.

Indeed.

Inky Likeness

People are still talking about DST darkness, and news outlets state that commissions trying to abolish DST report that employees are less productive once DST starts.

How can that be?

I find that remarkable. I am much more productive in the late fall and winter. Less sunlight, and less pressure to make one’s life resemble a beer commercial 24-hours a day. Especially in a place like where I live. If you’re not on a boat, on the beach, on a bike, or having elegant cocktails on a deck, you’re a Morlock.

I love this time of year. Meditating in the pre-dawn chill of a dark morning, sipping a hot cup of coffee on my pitch-black patio while wrapped in a thick blanket, embracing the early darkness and thanking the sun for going away for a few months so I can get shit done. And I hate to state the obvious, but you knew it was coming:

Iceland only gets four hours of sunlight a day in the winter, and they enjoy one of the happiest populations in the world. Happiness just oooooozes out of people in Iceland. So perhaps people who get depressed and unproductive in the dark winter months should seek problems within themselves, rather than blaming nature.

But fine, I’ll play. Here are some ways to enjoy the late fall darkness:

Have a shag session. Obviously the best choice, and most fun.

Have a light saber war.

Light every candle in your house.

Have a séance.

Meditate.

Drink your first cup of coffee in the cool darkness of your patio or porch.

Take a twilight boat ride.

Go enjoy a well-lit bar.

Cook early. That way dishes are mostly done by the time your body and mind begin to shut down.

Take a walk around your neighborhood and peer in your neighbor’s windows.

Turn on every lamp in the house and then go outside to see how pretty your house looks from the outside looking in.

Play Hide-and-Go Seek.

Give everyone in the family flashlights and play a game in the yard.

Deal with it. You’re an adult, and it’s fall.

(I know, I’m petulant child when it comes to humidity. Listen, one of us has to be the adult here, and it ain’t gonna be me…)

And remember: in a few weeks, you’ll be able to walk around looking at Christmas lights.

Daylight Cravings Time

4:59 p.m.: Light.

5:00 p.m.: Dark.

I just ran across at least a dozen Daylight Savings Time articles, and almost all say the same thing:

“Cheer up, folks! Starting on December 22, the days start getting longer!”

What kind of society do we live in where we need to be cheered up after only eight calendar weeks into fall, only a few weeks into cold weather, and only one day into DST? Why is darkness, and cold, and winter so demonized? It has only been two short weeks since I stopped sweating to death, and already there is a death knell for the cold. Summer people just had six long disgusting months of heat and humidity and crowds, it’s our turn now.

For quiet. For cold. For fireplaces. For fuzzy socks, and cashmere, and hot beverages, and soups in our crock pots.

Daylight Savings Time started in the United States as a way to save energy during World War I. A push to end the semiannual clock shift, which has been shown to correlate with negative health and productivity outcomes, has gained steam throughout the country in recent years. Others argue that the current system is best, since it provides more light during waking hours in the summer without forcing workers and schoolchildren to begin their days in darkness when daylight hours shrink in the winter.

I for one am enjoying wearing my sweaters and boots, and looking professional at work rather than like a crazed damp poodle. I’m looking forward to my winter plans of skiing and hiking, and meeting friends and family for the holidays. I am enjoying lighting my candles, drinking hot coffee, and baking. I’m looking forward to traveling over the holidays, meeting new babies, and experiencing new cultures.

As my favorite blogger implored this past week, “Lean into the cozy season, ya’ll.”

Go to Barnes and Noble, and grab Bella Grace’s Cozy Issue, that’ll give you some great tips on how to enjoy this weather. And don’t forget to grab the winter edition soon, because The Chrysalis Collective will be featured in a stand-alone article. More on that.

I’ve had calls for the following blog topics:

Manifesting. This is very personal, and a big part of my book, so you’ll have to buy it if you want to read about that.

Widowhood. Above, again.

Books. All I’m reading is college textbooks and academic journals.

Dating post-55. I’m not dating.

Workouts. No way. Find a hot 22-year old on Instagram.

Teaching. This blog is not the platform for that, but I’ve got a great book idea on my teaching career. More on that soon.

Travel. You’ll have to wait until 2022 for that, I’m land-locked.

Lean into cozy, folks.

Early Gift Guide

FINE, I’ll post a gift guide. I still say it’s too damn early, but since supply chain stores are iffy, and people are shopping earlier than usual, I’ll do my part.

Snif Candles Collection ($120.00). Interesting sales gimmick: keep the free mini-candles to try ’em out, send the large candles back of the scents you don’t like. Super pretty and unique.

FLIKR Personal Fireplace ($99). Great for small spaces, or for people who don’t have a fireplace. Super cute.

Sophie Lou Jacobsen Bloom Teapot ($75). Quirky and colorful teapot for your quirky, colorful tea-drinking friend.

Slow Down Studio Jug Coffee Mugs ($85). Yes, you’re seeing right. $85 for a coffee mug. But they’re pretty sexy, and sold in four colors: Butter, Chartreuse, Deep Blue & Lavender. This is a gift for the true coffee lover in your life, and they will appreciate the hell out of you when they unwrap it. I’m getting one for myself as soon as I decide on a color. I’m thinking lavender.

Emu Australia Mayberry Rainbow Slippers ($70). We all know Emu copied UGG. Nevertheless, you can’t get cuter than these lil’ fuzzy slippers. Made from Australian sheepskin.

Esther Perel’s Where Should We Begin — A Game of Stories ($40). I played this at a friend’s house last winter, and we had a blast. It’s based on Esther Perel’s podcast, “Where Do We Begin?” and introduces playfulness and storytelling into your next date or dinner party. Fun stocking stuffer.

Fredericks & Mae Rainbow Playing Cards ($15). Who can resist brightly-colored playing cards for that price? Another great stocking stuffer.

Bartesian Premium Cocktail Machine ($350). Whether you absolutely love a good drink or want to level up your hosting game, the Bartesian Premium Cocktail and Margarita Machine is such a fun gift. You can create endless craft cocktails in the comfort of your home in just minutes. Just pop in a Bartesian cocktail concentrate pod, like a Keurig, and the machine will combine the appropriate spirit with water and adjust the concentration levels according to your preference and dispense it into your glass. No measuring or mess; the machine does everything for you.” — Anvita Reddy.

Smeg 4×4 Slice Toaster ($260). My toaster is dead on one side, and I’m dying to get one of these cool baby-blue (or red, or putty, or pastel green…) Williams Sonoma toasters. I’m trying to decide if $260 is too rich for my blood. I mean, for $260, does it butter your toast FOR you? Nevertheless, I yearn for this toaster.

Loftie Alarm Clock ($149). This alarm clock is the push you need to get your cell phone out of your bedroom. It has a calming wake-up sound and comes with built-in sleep meditations, breathing exercises, and white noise, and you can connect it to your favorite playlists and podcasts.

Happy Shopping!

Mishaps and Foibles

Thank you for your supportive thoughts and kind words, I found my key fob. It was in the trunk of my car. I mean, what are the odds?

Give me a break, my brain is scrambled. There haven’t been many times in my life where I have thought to myself, “I took on too much.” I’m a very effective multi-tasker, super-efficient, and it takes a lot to overwhelm me. Now, I’m not going to sit here and say I’m overwhelmed, as I have my fall of 2021 pretty under control. But there were a few times in the past few months where I sat back and thought,

“What the hell was I thinking? There’s not enough time in the damn day.”

But as we meander closer to Thanksgiving, things are beginning to slow down a little. So today, let me treat you to a list of dumb things I’ve done recently as a result of an over-crowded brain. I’ve been keeping a list just so I could have a good blog post.

Found my lost car key fob in my car. I retraced my steps from the first day I remembered having it, and boom-shaka-laka.

Wore my faculty ID into church. Putting on my ID is mechanical, and I didn’t even realize it until I was walking back from communion. I’m sure God was impressed.

Poured sugar on my eggs and salt in my coffee. Luckily I realized it before I ate or drank.

Texted myself and then got excited when the text came through, wondering who was texting me. I voice text myself writing ideas all the time, especially when I’m driving. Once they’re gone, they’re gone, so you have to get them down.

Sent an email to the wrong supervisor about the wrong student on the wrong campus. Duh. Luckily, I have great supervisors with great senses of humor.

Forgot I didn’t have ear buds in, but rather headphones attached to my computer, and tried to walk away from the table. You can imagine how well that went. My laptop has gone through a lot, as has my head.

Wore two different black sneakers to the gym. They’re really similar. No one noticed. I don’t think.

Sprayed myself with the wrong perfume. The bottles are identical, and the cleaners moved stuff around, so I thought I was grabbing my go-to scent. The one I sprayed was a gift I didn’t like, called Bronze Wood and Leather. It is an intense scent, and I smelled like a humidor all day. Not as nice as it sounds.

Had the wrong screen displayed for a Zoom class. Nothing inappropriate, but students began raising their hands because they didn’t recognize one thing on the itinerary. Wonder why.

Discussed a student’s grade with her until she finally informed me that I was looking at the wrong Kristen’s grade line. In my defense, she let me go and on. Stop me if I’m being an idiot, please.

Like now. See you tomorrow.

They Call Me the Seeker

The last thing the salesman at the Audi dealership said to me before I drove off, as he handed me my key fobs:

“Mary, don’t lose these. They’re expensive.”

Yeah, well. I’m using my spare now.

I’m just dumbfounded. I’ve looked everywhere for it. I simply returned from the market, and put my purchases down. All I can figure is that the fob fell into a plastic bag, and I threw the plastic bag out. Nothing else makes sense. It’s maddening.

So anyway. I’m busy tonight, I just wanted to say that if you see it, let me know. Here’s a little something to get your juices flowing today. Early version first, 2007 version second. Both HOT.

Here they are still rocking, and looking even hotter:

Home Base

There was a video circulating on Instagram of a thirty-something man packing boxes and looking around his childhood home as he gets ready to vacate. As he looks from room-to-room, he doesn’t see empty shelves and bare walls. He sees shadows of memories.

Family game night.

The beloved family golden retriever snuggling with the family on the couch.

Happy Christmas mornings.

Silly hi-jinx with siblings.

Pillow forts in the living room, army men battles, video game contests, piggy-back rides, and laughter. Always laughter. As he flips off the light, the video flashes to his father.

“Ready?” his father asks.

He slightly nods, but the answer was clear.

No.

No “child” with a happy childhood is ever ready to move out of his childhood home. I myself look around my living room as I write, and I see this:

The back room where we set up the ball pit when they were toddlers.

The dining room table where heated games of Monopoly, Clue, Jenga, Poker and Risk were played (and still are).

Their three stools at the kitchen island, where millions of talks took place. Talks about life, death, love, education, sports, disappointment and acceptance. I can’t even look at those stools without hearing their laughter echo through the house, at their simple joy of being together.

The corner of the hearth where our dog Mojo laid on the first day we brought him home. When he was full-grown he could barely fit even his head there, but he always tried and always seemed surprised that he wasn’t that little fluffy puppy anymore.

The ballustrades that they would hang from like they were Captain Sparrow.

The spot where they built pillow forts.

The wall in the kitchen that has pencil skritches and initials for height checks.

And the yard. Football catches, baseball catches, kickball games, miniature golf tournaments, Halloween displays, Manhunt wars, laid-back patio hangouts, summer cookouts with paper plates, sidewalk chalk, bike rides, light saber wars, plastic Fisher Price cars, drone experiments, surfboard waxing, and always, always, always, hordes of kids, even now.

I appeared as a guest on a New Jersey podcast last week, and we discussed how hard it is for older parents who have outgrown an area and want to move on, but our children still come home. We want to see the world, but we also want to keep the childhood home as a touchstone for our children, keep it as a place they can return to, again and again, to seek safe haven from the world, even for a brief respite. Another guest laughed while describing her joy at watching her “kids” return for holidays and immediately pull open the refrigerator door.

“Isn’t that silly?” she asked. “I love watching them bang through the front door and pull open the refrigerator. It’s such an intimate gesture, only something our kids do.”

We all agreed that the stuff our kids do kills us. The way they come home and flop down on the couch. How they love the smell of your candles, or what you’re cooking, or of your fresh coffee. The way they begin stalking around the room, making phone calls and plans with their friends. The sound of their music while they shower. My favorite?

When I’m downstairs working or cooking or listening to music, and the three of them are all upstairs, and I can hear them laughing at something that has nothing to do with me. They have always spoken their own “brother” language and have always had their secrets. Just hearing them mumble from their three rooms and crack each other up melts my heart like an ice cube in July.

So if we can’t or won’t sell, we compromise. Most of the time somewhere else, holidays here, travel in-between. And that is where I reside at this juncture in my life.

I ain’t selling my house.

So as I tie up the last few loose ends of my life here in Jersey, I join the ranks of many other older Americans who can enjoy the best of both worlds. That of the thrill of travel and independence, and that of the warmth and comfort of home. I leave these streets, these skies, these sidewalks to the young families who live all around me, who are busy raising their children in a lovely community. But ultimately, it’s time to move on.

And nothing could be better.

Buyer’s Market

They’re baaaaaaaack.

And you thought Halloween was over. Silly. Because I am once again getting besieged by real estate flyers, phone calls, emails, and drive-bys, wondering if I want to sell my house.

Wah?

Um, I’m not selling my house. Not ever. Not ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever. Not ever. Was that enough evers? If anything, I’m closer to buying something (elsewhere) than selling.

But the most insidious thing to me is where agents get their information. As in, why would dozens of local real estate agents all think collectively that I’m selling my house? Because I blog about hating Jersey weather?

Er, that’s not a lot to go on. What else ya got?

So it would seem that despite my making my point clear, there is still some confusion as to my intentions. How’s about we settle the confusion with a quiz. Enjoy.

True or False: Mary hates Jersey weather.

Answer: True. God, is that true. Hate isn’t strong enough of a word.

True or False: Mary has spent enough time in New Jersey.

Answer: True. It’s a big, beautiful, wide-world out there, folks, and I’m leaving soon to see it.

True or False: Mary will be living elsewhere one day.

Answer: Absolutely true.

True or False: It is possible, contrary to local small-minded popular belief, to keep a house in one place, and have another somewhere else, too.

Answer: True. Lotsa people do it.

True or False: Mary intends to keep her house, but live elsewhere also.

Answer: True.

True or False: Mary is keeping her Jersey house.

Answer: True.

I’m not selling my house. You picked your career, now you have to lie in it. And remember my personal mantra:

I can usually tell how dumb someone is by how stupid they think I am.