Change

It’s a beautiful morning today.  There is a light breeze, the sun is out but not scorching, and the sky is clear.  The temperature dropped so it feels simply delightful.  I left my apartment before 7:30 am so that I could get in a destination walk to and from Trader Joe’s to pick up a few groceries for the week.  My plan was to be in and out before the Saturday rush.  I was walking on the east side of the street, which is less sunny, thus cooler, in the mornings.  When I approached 68^th Street I was in back of someone else with a cart who had a similar plan at Trader Joe’s.  She kept trying to get around a woman with her dog whose leash straddled the entire sidewalk.  When I got close enough I said, “Excuse me, we want to pass you and your dog.”  She didn’t move.  I was less polite in my next attempt.  “You’re taking up the whole sidewalk, can you move so we can pass?” “Fuck you” she said as she barely made room for us.  As I made my way around her dog, I said “You don’t have to take the entire sidewalk.”  My tone sounded as annoyed as I felt.  Even though I had been happy to be out and about on a glorious day, I quickly turned into a grouch.  Again, she repeated, “Fuck You!” This time louder so there would be no mistaking her ire.  I didn’t look back, and I’m not proud to say that I then gave her the finger with my back to her.  Only in retrospect could I think clearly and realize she’s not having a good morning.  Did I need to add to that?  

When I was in the third grade I took my first trip to an art museum.  It was a class field trip and I found the Philadelphia Museum of Art boring.  We were on a tour and it was more about history and paintings of old wars than anything that interested me.   Had the guide stopped by the Mary Cassatt portrait or explained Brancusi’s The Kiss rather than marching us past it to view Washington’s Crossing, I may have found my love for art a bit sooner.  It took me until high school and many more visits to the Museum to learn what I like as opposed to what I prefer to leave on the walls on my way to better things.  

It’s something of an irony that my and my husband’s 27^th wedding anniversary is on the 27^th week of this year.  I like coincidences like that.  When the stars align, I feel good all over.  Twenty-Seven years is probably the longest commitment to anything I’ve done in my life.  I like variety, so in the past I could do something for a while and then I’d move on.  I took a very different tactic for our marriage.  While Larry is someone who likes routines and enjoys what he knows, I like to try new things, preferring to being adventurous rather than staying in place.  Though we were a bit older than our contemporaries when we got married, I was 38 to Larry’s 45, we had a lot to learn about relationships, particularly long-term relationships.  

We are officially halfway through 2024.  It’s a great time to reevaluate then manage any expectations we’ve had for this year.  This is the year I’ve had my first, and perhaps my last, book published.  It feels good to have accomplished that.  I am now in the weeds attempting to promote the book while working full-time.  Promotions do not come naturally for me so it feels like I’m rolling a big bolder uphill uncertain if like Icarus is will roll down again.   But I’m challenging myself to do what I can and then challenging myself yet again let go of the results.  When I measure my self-worth by the results I produce I may experience a fleeting high, but in the end I try my best to be proud of going beyond my limits no matter how things turn out.  

I was surprised today when I dropped my iPhone and the case cracked that it didn’t create a tailspin in which I cracked a bit, too.  Instead, I was thankful that I gave myself a day with a flexible schedule allowing me to take Lucy and me to the Apple store to have my phone repaired.  I even sat patiently waiting for my turn as Lucy demanded treats since it wasn’t her idea to leave our neighborhood.  Luckily I unknowingly stocked enough treats for the day.  

This Tuesday I become a published author with In the Time of Coronavirus, Reflecting on the Past to Embrace a Joyful Future.  To that end I am doing everything I know to do to promote this book, working to get it into stores, sites and libraries and into readers’ hands.  It is a daunting task.  I am overwhelmed, yet very excited.  

I was nervous.  I had agreed to participate in a Zoom panel which included reading from my pre-published book, In the Time of Coronavirus. but it’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to a group.  As I was practicing, reading the blog post a few times, I noticed my voice sounded like it was stuck in my throat.  I did not think that was a good thing.  

When I was younger and I upset someone, I would replay the incident over and over again. I found it intolerable that someone would be upset or angry with me. It felt devastating. I would apologize again and again, becoming a nuisance. Sometimes people would be more upset with my groveling than they were with the original upset. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. It felt like anything I did that hurt others was unforgivable. There was no fun to be had.

Having lived as long as I have, visiting friends and family sometimes means travel. Following our amazing time in Mexico City we took a drive to the Teotihuacán Pyramids, which were magnificent. It’s a pre-historic Mayan city. To walk in the same steps as those who resided there thousands of years ago is a powerful experience. From there we traveled on to San Miguel de Allende, a lovely small city with an artistic soul.

“Almost everything will work if you unplug it for a few minutes….including you.”  -Anne Lamott-”  

There are some days that I just don’t want to do anything.  And if I have to do something it can feel particularly labored.  I woke up this morning with a strong case of I don’t wanna.  I was still tired, though I received eight hours of sleep.  I was achy even though I’m stretching more given the needs of being in my mid-60s.  I was able to get away last weekend, though it now feels like it was weeks ago.

It was a quiet day. Not the reading a book while sipping tea on a rainy-day type of quiet. It was quiet because I wasn’t plugged into a device. The TV was not on. The quiet came from not connecting my phone to my earbuds to listen to a book, a podcast or music. It’s even quiet now as I’m writing this. Lucy, who is asleep next to me isn’t even snoring. She must be enjoying the quiet, too.

This past week I heard of the death of two people from my past. I heard from three people presently who are ill, and we are all hearing about too many in our world who are in pain, who are suffering, or who have experienced significant losses. Life is precious.

We can be shiny and perfect and admired, or we can be real and honest and vulnerable and loved. But we actually do have to choose. --Glennon Doyle Melton

I listen to Glennon’s podcast, “We Can Do Hard Things.”  On one of her podcasts she said that she used to worry that no one was listening to her.  Her audiences were small, her readership small.  But then she started seeing and hearing the few who were listening.  She realized that each person was important, not the number itself.  It was so meaningful to hear that.  I have taken it to heart.

As a psychotherapist I’ve noticed that so many people in and out of my office will say, “I know this is boring, but…” Traditionally therapists don’t respond, we only listen. I’m more interactive, so I respond to the statement that they think what they have to say is boring. I’m curious. I don’t find what they tell me boring. But I want to know how they see it themselves. The subject matter is secondary to their perceptions and experiences of living their lives. I am fascinated by that. Luckily my profession affords me to privilege of hearing their insights and opinions regarding their lives.

"Salad can get a bad rap. People think of bland and watery iceberg lettuce, but in fact, salads are an art form." - Marcus Samuelsson

I made miso dressing this past week. It turned out well.  I tweaked the recipe so that it had a slight sweetness to balance the umami tones.  Before that it was buttermilk dressing.  Growing up we had a fresh salad every night.  And my mother was a stickler for homemade dressing.  She favored vinaigrettes when I got older, but before that we enjoyed homemade Russian dressing, Thousand Island Dressing, Italian, and Roquefort.    There was a distinct difference between her dressings and the bottled versions of Wishbone and Kraft.  

There’s nothing like a flower show in the middle of a cold winter to warm our souls.  That was my thinking as I embarked on the member preview of the Orchid Show at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx.  My plan was to get there early so I could get in and out and home for work.  I walked in the chilly weather to the subway where I got on the number 5 subway to Bedford Avenue.  However, it was the number 4 train that I needed, so I had to reroute, getting off at the Grand Concourse and then settling in for a 45-minute ride to the Garden via the Bx 19 bus.  This was an hour detour in total, getting me to the Garden with the throngs of people who also wanted to enjoy the tropical flowers.  

“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent”
Victor Hugo

Yesterday I was in sweats, my hair, stiff, frizzy, and dry while getting paperwork done in-between laundry loads.  Nothing glamorous about the day.  I was comfortable and perhaps a bit tired from a late night.  The late night was very unexpected.  I had a subscription to the New York Pops at Carnegie Hall.  It has turned out to be a marvelous series.  On Friday night I, along with a sold-out house, thoroughly enjoyed an evening of Gershwin music featuring the vocalist, Montego Glover and the pianist, Lee Musiker.  

“Procrastinate now, don't put it off.”
― Ellen DeGeneres

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I spent yesterday  procrastinating.  I cooked, I baked, I looked things up online.  What I didn’t do was tally my expenses for budgeting and taxes.  I am not fond of bookkeeping.  Nonetheless, I was able to sit down and focus after I did everything I could to avoid the inevitable.  It wasn’t as bad as I anticipated.  Nor was it as fun as taking the day off.  

“True empowerment comes from knowing and embracing your own worth.”

Beverly Johnson

I just saw the new one woman show, In Vogue, in which Beverly Johnson shares her life’s story with a backdrop of photos of her, the culture, and other iconic people, movements, and moments in history.