TED

The Universe has been throwing me bones the last few weeks, my friends. Good bones. Meaty, juicy bones. And I had full intention of sharing them with you.

But I’ve reconsidered.

They’re too personal, and it’s too early. My apologies. It was never my intention to tease you. I’m keeping them to myself for now.

But there is one thing I can share with you. If you’re interested.

Last week I saw for perhaps the gazillionth time the widow Nora McInerny’s talk on grief posted on TED LinkedIn.

YAWN.

I’m so tired of Nora. I liked her memoir, but TED treats her like she’s the only widow that has ever lived. So I commented on the TED feed:

“TED, please post my talk from GCU in April on the power of standing alone, enough with Nora.”

I thought I’d get in trouble, but four days later a TED curator contacted me to let me know it has been edited and posted on Youtube.

So there you go. I will post it on this blog eventually, just not yet. I’m trying to figure out if I’m going to be one of those actresses who never watches her own movies.

Not sure if I want to watch it or not.

But don’t let that stop you. If you’ve been one of the dozens of people boreassing me about it, it’s up. If you want to see it, go look for it. Or you can wait.

Until then, au revoir and have a nice weekend. I have bones to chew.

Da Bone

I did a quick run to the bookstore on Saturday to grab the October issue of the puzzle books I use. Laugh if you will, but word finds are vital to my current summer routine and psychological peace of mind. They help me with writer’s block, keep me off my phone, and give me something to surreptitiously turn to when I have a rare down moment at work.

Most significantly, they help me, for however briefly, forget about travel. About the fact that I can’t travel. Not until October.

(This next part is when I sound like a spoiled, whiny brat with First World problems).

Part of me dies when I can’t travel. I can feel it slowly corroding away my happiness and peace like acid through flesh. The fact that I traveled to Florida and Arizona in the spring is already a faint travel memory. I miss Maine, and Utah, and Colorado, and Wyoming, not to mention Alaska, Canada, Iceland and London.

But for now I’m stuck, until October. Remaining in New Jersey for the entire summer as a dutiful daughter and mom is, of course, something I know I need to do.

But that don’t make it easy. There are days when I wake up and want to scream in frustration.

(Ok I’m done)

So I’m throwing myself, my whole self, into work. And I’m happy for it. Grateful, even. But the slow trudge of the Universe as it limps its way to delivering me the life I am going for feels like a maddeningly slow fucking journey.

On Saturday, as I drove in summer tourist traffic, I once again addressed the Universe.

“Yo, what the hell is going on up there? I’m putting in the work, can you throw me a bone?”

Twenty minutes later, I dug up said bone. Tune in Friday for the conclusion.

On Influence

I did not make it to the beach on Friday, but I did enjoy a long boat ride down the river with my son. True to my word to make it to the beach this weekend, I cancelled my consultation appointment on Sunday, packed my water, a chair and a book, and high-tailed it to a remote beach for a beach morning.

I’m talking morning. 8:30 a.m. It was a beautiful placid morning near the water, just me and some little white crabs that kept peering at me with their buggy eyes and raised claws. I took a few dips in the (still cold? Or newly cold?) water, and felt at peace as the ocean and I rediscovered each other.

It was tranquil. Until it wasn’t.

I heard their cackling before I saw them, and of course they sat near me, despite the empty, completely desolate beach. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:

I could be sunbathing, or parking, or eating, or walking, on a Siberian archipelago, and some fucking nimrod on a phone would plunk herself right down next to me and talk at full volume. It never fails.

WHERE DO I HAVE TO GO TO GET SOME PEACE AND QUIET? AND WHAT TIME SHOULD I BE THERE? OBVIOUSLY 8:30 A.M. ON A SUNDAY IS NOT EARLY ENOUGH!

But I digress.

So these two, er, well-endowed young women set up their blanket about twenty yards from me and proceeded to set up what looked like an Instagram photo shoot. As they gyrated and cavorted for almost two hours in the water and in the sand, I peered at them like they were one of those old 3D posters that if you squinted long enough, you’d finally be able to spot the spaceship in the middle.

In this case I was not looking for a spaceship, but reason. Sense. Rationale. Logic. And I came up empty-handed.

This is not a castigation of female social media influencers. What do I care? If they enjoy it, more power to them. I am simply making the observation that I’m old.

Not geriatric old. More like “I refuse to learn any more new technology” old.

What I don’t get about young girls:

Their need to cackle and scream at full volume.

The improbability of high waisted pants making a comeback despite the fact that they weren’t even flattering in the ‘70’s.

Their application of horrid-smelling fruity lotions.

Their insistence on wearing pajamas to attend college classes.

Their refusal to date anyone under 6’0.

Their confidence that brandishing their gorgeous bums on social media will result in…what? A husband? Fame? Likes?

One day social media will come crashing down and where will all of these young people be?

Oi.

Whimsy

When I feel like I’m not enjoying a season enough, I turn to Bella Grace for advice. Just one quick browse of their seasonal suggestions, and I remember what I’m supposed to be doing: feeling gratitude for life. So here on this hot and humid summer Friday is a Bella Grace list of 25 ways to enjoy the whimsical nature of summer. Enjoy!

If it is sunny today, then take 10 minutes to bask in the glow of gratitude. Bring nothing but a thankful heart with you outside.  If you can free up your schedule, then invite a friend over for lemonade and scones. Make it fancy with striped straws and lace napkins.

If you haven’t called home lately, then do so and tell the person who answers a favorite summer memory they were a part of.

If you are hungry, then go to an ethnic restaurant you’ve never tried before. Invite a friend to dine with you and pretend you are food critics. Tip well out of sheer kindness.

If you want to dip into your boho style, then go to a local string of vintage/antique shops and put together an outfit worthy of your unconventional elegance.

If you are feeling ordinary, then recognize what an extraordinary privilege it is to be so! Go to the magazine racks and imagine if your face were on every cover. Buy big sunglasses to avoid the imaginary paparazzi, and go dwell in your extraordinary ordinary day.

If you feel like you’re missing your youth, then go to the library and rent all of the favorite books you read as a child. Curl up with your old teddy and read the stories aloud in the characters’ voices.

If you are near a cemetery, then take some time to honor the lives that have passed before you. Walk slowly, and read the names of those who walked this journey and have now moved on to the next. Imagine what their lives were like.

If you are feeling adventurous, then get in your car with no phone, no map, and no agenda of when to be back. Get lost on purpose; turn by turn, just drive.

If you need some love, then take the afternoon to go to a local humane society. Take your time meeting new furry babies. Snuggle and surround yourself with purring perfection and puppy kisses. If you have some spare change, then donate!

If you have a new notebook and favorite pen, then make it a dedicated space for lists. Make one page a list of favorite people. Make another page a list of the places where you want to travel. Try to compose a list of the sounds that make your heart beat faster. Fill the rest of the pages as inspired list ideas come to you.

If you have a significant other, then spend a day together where everything is their choice. Be as selflessly, arduously in love as you can be. Get lost in the bliss of not needing to make a decision and delighting in the company of only the two of you. Schedule another day in the future that is all about you. If you are single, then be bold in loving yourself! Make confidence your mate, and take yourself on a well-earned date for one. t If you are feeling nostalgic, then go on a photo treasure hunt. Seek out pictures of past loves, long-ago friends, and lost family. Allow yourself to slip back into the memory captured in front of you, and reminisce at the beauty of that moment.

If you’re in a bad mood, then create a loud-song-only playlist. Sing along until your throat hurts. Turn up the volume until your ears ring. Soothe your soul with listless lyrics that feed your feisty spirit.

If you’re missing cooler weather, then celebrate winter for the day. Watch holiday movies. Make frozen hot chocolate. Crank up the air conditioning and make a fire in the fireplace. Wrap up in cozy blankets and get your comfort on.

If you have vacation days to spare, then call a few friends and plan an impromptu trip. Pack a bag and go! Meet somewhere between your destinations and make it the place to be. Rent a room at a bed-and-breakfast, book massages and mani/pedis. Grab the newest bestseller and recharge together!

If you feel like learning, then explore the museums in your city. Take a weekend to tour two or three of the leading art, science, and history hot spots around you. Take notes. Take pictures. Immerse yourself in the culture of which you are a part.

If you have a sweet tooth, then find a new local bakery to visit. Order the most delectable thing on the menu. Didn’t you know summer-sweet calories don’t count?

If you are blessed with a thunderstorm, then embrace every moment of it! Turn off all the lights in your house and burn candles. Cuddle under a blanket made of only the softest material, and sink into a new novel that you read cover-to-cover.

If you’re feeling restless, then have a get-up-and-go day. Pack a backpack with water, snacks, a book, and sunscreen. Leave the moment you wake up and don’t come home until well after the stars have come out. Track your day hour to hour and see just how much you can accomplish when you’re on the go.

If you feel the sea calling you, then answer your inner mermaid and find the water. Whether a river, pond, lake, ocean, or puddle, put on a cute suit and own your inner magic.

If you are sad summer is ending, then be in denial. Watch a marathon of summer movie titles. Go to the beach one more time. Build a sandcastle. Grill summer squash and carve a watermelon into thick, ripe slices. Refuse to say goodbye to the sunshine and watch it boldly as it slips down the horizon line.

Bits and Bobs

Housekeeping:

Beach time. It might pain beach lovers to know that I have yet to sit on the beach this summer. I’ve walked on it, and looked at it from the boat, I’ve even jumped in the water. But I haven’t sat on the beach yet. I keep rationalizing myself out of it, and reminding myself how incredibly bored I get sitting on my duff when I could be being productive. But Friday is my day. Wish me luck. My goal is to last two hours.

British Open. I watched Saturday’s rounds, but not Sunday’s. On Sundays I attend church and then leave the island for the day for personal reasons, so I walked in the door just as Cam Smith was receiving his trophy. Of course we were traumatized that Rory didn’t win. We were routing for him. He had it. He deserved it. He earned it. But words cannot articulate how happy I am that Cam Smith won. One day I will post more about him. What a fantastic kid.

Things I’m loving now. My new light blue clogs from Free People. The Nordstrom Anniversary sale. My job. Wegman’s vegetable egg rolls. Sorry, this is a sucky list, but I’m trying real hard to make sure I post on Wednesdays, and it’s not easy.

Enjoy the heat and humidity, you reptiles.

Regarding Art

(Regarding my ire over the hair debacle:

On Friday I stated, “Revenge is a dish best eaten when cold,” I refer, of course, not to burning down someone’s business, killing their family or reporting them to the IRS for tax evasion. As an introvert simply trying to live a quiet life, I am cognizant that arson, murder and extortion would not lend themselves to a peaceful existence. Ahem. No.

I simply mean that what goes around always comes around, without fail. I take no personal part in revenge. The Universe takes care of that for us, or didn’t you know that?)

I am currently involved in a number of writing projects, and it struck me this past weekend that the humanities is the only field where you are required to do the work FIRST, and then are obligated to spend all your time figuring out a way to get people to like it and hopefully hire you. No money, no guarantees. Virginia Woolf once said, “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write.”

Take the following as examples of creators and their art:

Songwriter to Label: “I wrote these songs, can you listen to them and let me know if they have potential for the maintream?”

Artist to Gallery: “I’ve been painting these landscapes for five years, can I hang them on your walls?”

Dancer to Studio : “I’ve been dancing since I’ve been four years old and I put this routine together, would you mind watching it?”

Writer to Agent: “It took me ten years to write this screenplay, do you think it’s ready to send to a director in L.A.?”

And then we spend the rest of our days figuring out creative ways to convince the world to believe in it. Why do you think so many writers and artists don’t get famous until they’re dead? Because it took all that time for one specific person to sit down and read the play or look at the portrait and say:

“He was a genius!”

Exhausting. Can you imagine this taking place in any other field?

Surgeon: “Let me perform this heart surgery for free, and then let me know how you feel. I’m thinking of doing this for a living, but only if it’s profitable.”

Engineer: “Here’s this bridge I just built with my own money and own materials, whattya think? Wanna hire me for your firm?”

Lawyer: “I’m going to spend 20 hours a day litigating this case without charging you. Then I’ll do it ten more times, for free. If I win them, I’m considering being a lawyer full-time.”

Car Manufacturer: “Look at these Bentleys I just built. I’m going to give them away and see if people like them. If they do, maybe I’ll make more.”

If you are a writer, or know anyone who wants to be a writer, I have one piece of advice:

DON’T BUY BOOKS ON THE CRAFT OF WRITING IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR ENCOURAGEMENT.

The people who write these books regale hopeful writers with 300 pages about the wonders of writing, but have to resist the urge to admit their book only needs one sentence:

Don’t bother trying to make a living as a writer, unless you have connections in the literary world, or you are already a social media sensation/celebrity.

This is not sour grapes. I have a fabulous opportunity in the fall to get my projects in the right hands. But I also see how long it has taken me to get here. And the writing world now is all about social media. I had an agent say the following to me:

“Don’t even bother sending a book proposal out until you have 10,000 social media followers.”

I appreciated his candor, and since that conversation, I have become more and more determined to circumnavigate around the world of teenage influencers, Tik Tok nonsense, and Facebook posting. If I can’t be the kind of writer I want to be without being on Tik Tok, then I’ll be a different kind of writer.

You heard it here first.

Hair Disaster

Sorry there was no post on Wednesday. I had a hair emergency. I won’t go into much detail, because I intend to use the experience as a sitcom episode.

I’ve had a string of bad luck with hairdressers in the last two years, but last Friday took the cake. All she had to do was follow what was in the computer, and use the chemical combinations in my profile. This odd woman had unkempt rust-colored hair and turned out to be the owner of not only that salon, but of another one with the same name down the road. I mention this only to further character motivation.

Considering the way I left the salon that day, I have narrowed it down to a few possibilities:

One: She was trying to ruin my life.

Two: She was on drugs.

Three: She didn’t use the right numbers on the computer.

Four: She deliberately screwed up.

Let’s take them one-by-one:

One: She was trying to ruin my life. How do I know why? Jealousy? Bitterness? To get some kicks on a Friday afternoon? Being a natural conspiracy theorist, of course this is my first choice.

Two: She was on drugs. She acted strangely. Nervous, hands shaking, strange ambling stories about, well, nothing. Did I make her nervous? If yes, why?

Three: She couldn’t read the computer. The owner of two salons can’t read her own computer? Unlikely.

Four: She deliberately screwed up. I was only in her chair for ninety minutes. The normal amount of time for me is three hours, minimum. I remember her telling me that, “I am fast and efficient.” Yeah, right. The way she worked wasn’t “fast and efficient.” It was, “I want you out of my chair as quickly as possible.”

I hated it when it was done, so what did I do? I wrote a big check to the salon and handed her a tip, of course, figuring I would get used to it. I didn’t. I called Monday morning and left a nice message, asking if I could come in and get it fixed, but guess what?

No phone call. And we’re back to #1.

I found a lovely young girl in a local salon who fixed it immediately, and made me ME again. I considered cancelling the check I wrote, but I decided against it. One of my favorite quotes:

Revenge is a dish best eaten cold.

Enjoy the weekend.

Nitpickers

Trying to keep my boys’ food likes and dislikes straight:

Eggs:

Boy 1: Scrambled and over light, but not egg salad, deviled eggs, or hard-boiled. The smell of hard-boiled or deviled eggs in the refrigerator will make him feel like throwing up.

Boy 2: All eggs, all day. Can eat a dozen deviled eggs standing in front of the open refrigerator.

Boy 3: Likes over light, but will only dip toast in it. Will not eat the egg after dipping, because it makes him feel like throwing up. No scrambled in a pan, but will eat scrambled egg in a restaurant breakfast sandwich. No egg salad, no hard-boiled, no deviled, no how.

Steak:

Boy 1: Medium rare to rare. Bloody, please.

Boy 2: Medium well to medium. Tinge of blood is ok, but don’t overdo it.

Boy 3: Medium to well. Barely pink. Bloody steak makes him want to throw up.

Milk:

Boy 1: Chocolate milk all day. Dark, lots of chocolate. Hershey’s syrup. No plain, that will make him want to throw up. Almond is good, too.

Boy 2: Regular milk, please. No almond, that makes him want to throw up.

Boy 3: Chocolate milk, please, light. Nesquik powder. No plain, makes him want to throw up.

Bread:

Boy 1: White toast with eggs and for grilled cheese. Whole grain with chicken salad.

Boy 2: Whole grain for sandwiches. White with eggs and blt’s.

Boy 3: White, all day. No whole grain, makes him want to throw up.

Mayo:

Boy 1: Not too much, makes him want to throw up.

Boy 2: Extra mayo, lay it on thick, please.

Boy 3: No mayo, just the smell makes him want to throw up.

Grated cheese:

Boy 1: Thanks, that’s enough.

Boy 2: Whoa, too much, you trying to make me throw up?

Boy 3: Never enough. MORE!

Pasta:

Boy 1: Alfredo is good, but not with chicken, that makes him want to throw up.

Boy 2: Any kind but the kind with ricotta. Ricotta makes him want to throw up. No lasagna or ravioli. Meatballs are good.

Boy 3: Angel hair is favorite, with butter or ala vodka or rosa. No meatballs, that makes him want to throw up.

Yogurt:

Boy 1: Vanilla, strawberry, banana. Granola good in it. No fruit in it.

Boy 2: Vanilla only. Granola good in it. No fruit.

Boy 3: Vanilla and banana, no granola or fruit, are you trying to make me throw up?

Salads:

Boy 1: Greens, egg, chicken, purple onion, blue cheese- Cobb is favorite, but no tomato- tomato makes him want to throw up.

Boy 2: Greens, chicken, balsamic, crunchy stuff- no egg, that makes him want to throw up.

Boy 3: No salad of any kind, salads make him really want to throw up.

Avo:

Boy 1: Yes to guacamole and avo on sandwiches and in salads, not on toast, that makes him want to throw up.

Boy 2: Yes to avocado in any way.

Boy 3: Guac ok, no avo any other way, cause, well, the throw up thing.

Cereal:

Boy 1: Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Boy 2: Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Boy 3: Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Pancakes/waffles/donuts:

Boy 1: No.

Boy 2: No.

Boy 3: Keep ‘em comin’.

Drinks:

Boy 1: Chocolate milk, water, cranberry, orange, Gatorade, Arnold Palmers. No soda.

Boy 2: Water, lemonade, fresh juices. No soda.

Boy 3: Water, juices, all sodas.

My grocery bill makes me want to throw up

On Passion

Been thinking about passion a lot lately. My passion, how it’s fueled, how one’s vibration must match another’s. Here are some four ruminations that aren’t mine, but could be:

From Tom Bilyeu podcast:

To discover your true passion, ask yourself four question:

What am I good at?

What do I love?

What does the world need?

How do I get paid for it?

Unlock your passion, and you find your purpose. Serve people, and notice what you enjoy about that.

“You find yourself when you lose yourself in the service of others.”- Gandhi

Maybe the purpose of life isn’t to find our passion or purpose. What if all of this work we are doing, is to find ourselves again. To come back to that pure self- before the abandonment by that family member, before the heartbreak, the loss and addiction. Before we got jaded. Maybe this life is just a process of removing all the THINGS we have added to our coat of armor, to survive the world we live in, to find ourselves again.- M Abeo

It is in fact a part of the function of learning to help us escape, not from our own time- for we are bound by that- but from the intellectual and emotional limitations of our time.- T.S. Eliot

Happy Friday!

Sorry Not Sorry

Until last Thursday, I had never seen the movie “Love Story.” I didn’t love it, but I didn’t hate it either. The dialogue was contrived and old-fashioned, but the simplistic wholesome quality of it eventually won me over.

Ollie won me over. What woman doesn’t want a man like Ollie? To fight for her, defend her against doctors, corporations and rich fathers, to stay by her side through disinheritance, societal stereotypes, borderline poverty, illness?

Ollie never wavered. Jenny was a lucky girl.

My favorite part of the movie was something rarely mentioned in reviews of the movie. Reviewers focus on the love story itself, but I loved how when he was rich, Ollie’s path to law school was straightforward:

My Daddy will pay.

Once his father cuts him off for marrying beneath his station, Ollie had to find a new way to become a lawyer.

He did it by working. Odd jobs, cutting expenses, scholarships. Before we knew it, Ollie made Law Review, then partner.

Sometimes the obstacle is the way.

Anyway, good flick. Here’s a cute video since I’m feeling love-buggish. Not the best version, but the sexiest. I know Ella and Doris do it better, but this girl does black dress and red lipstick best. Sorry.

But love means never having to say you’re sorry.