One Smart Cookie

My daughter, her little girls and I got together on Monday for Mother’s Day.  It was one day late, but as I have been under the weather, and her husband was working late, it worked out fine.  She is so easy going, her company is just a pleasure.

The only thing is, she wanted Chinese food for dinner and I am simply not a fan.  I used to be, but I worked in a Chinese restaurant when I was in high school and I just developed Chinese Food Overload. To dispel any horrible misconceptions or fallacies, I will tell you from the get-go, the restaurant, family-run and based in a store front, was immaculate.  The food was what it said it was and the owners were kind, modest, extraordinarily hard working people.  Although the Grandma viewed me with perpetual suspicion.  Always peering at me out of the corner of her eye, she apparently never quite believed I was not going to sabotage their good name in some careless, disrespectful, American teenage way.  Remember, also, this was the early 1970’s.  Despite being a clueless, harmless dork, I was viewed as a treacherous hippie by some of the more conservative older generation. 

But back to the restaurant.   Dealing with all the food just got to be too much.  Each shift the work was relentless.   I rolled wontons, made mustard from mustard powder, prepared rice and fried shrimp toast.  It was always broiling hot, with dozens of pots and pans continuously spewing grease and steam.  Sometimes I was the only one working who spoke English.  I answered the non-stop phone and took non-stop orders.  I got yelled at constantly by Grandma, who would never accept a Westerner could prepare the food as well as someone who was Chinese (she probably was right).   I answered zillions of questions from the customers.  What’s in this, what’s in that, what does this taste like?  As if I could explain to someone what something tasted like.  I was such a brat I used to say “It tastes like chicken” and then would try not to laugh.  My Number One personal favorite question, however, was when customers, apparently surprised to find an American kid working there, would ask me if I was Chinese.

Now I would be honored to be Chinese.  We are talking about an incredible culture of art, music, literature and philosophy.  Who would not be proud to be of Chinese descent?  However, I look about as Irish as you can get.  I look as though I just emerged from the valleys of western Ireland, which is exactly where my ancestors did immigrate from.   So, again, being a clown/brat (take your choice), I started replying “Yes.  Yes, I am indeed Chinese.”  I always wanted to add “…you knucklehead.” Because I figured anyone dumb enough to ask that question deserved a snarky answer.  Although I realize now the chances of them getting the joke was pretty much nil.   So I just got my own private little giggle.  Add all these things together, plus an unfortunate return on an investment of too much Egg Foo Young one night, along the way I just lost my taste for Chinese food.  But Mary Kate loves it and she is so good to me, I couldn’t give her a hard time.  So Chinese food for Mother’s Day it was.

After she and the girls left, I saw the ubiquitous fortune cookies had been left behind on the kitchen counter.  So I made a cup of tea and opened the first one, expecting to have a good laugh at the preposterous syntax and ‘message’ I was about to be presented with.

I know they are random.  I know they have no base in reality what so ever and are spit out by a machine in a factory somewhere in Queens.  But here is what I read:

                          “Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.”

Anyone who has been reading this blog knows I am dealing with a very poor cancer prognosis.  But even worse, I have faced some devastating issues involving family members I love deeply.  These concerns, these losses, are on my mind almost constantly.  Life is too short.  And hating is a total waste of time and energy, even if you are not sick.  

         

At a time when there is so much rancor in my family, I just pray that this otherwise worthless piece of paper might suggest a message of peace and forgiveness.  I wish more than anything that people I love can find compassion and tolerance in their hearts.  Nothing on the face the earth could feel better.  

Of course, because the universe loves a good giggle, the next fortune cookie read:

             “Statistics are no substitute for judgment.”

?!?!?

I’ll stick with the message I actually understand, thank you very much.          

 Did you like what you read? Let others know. Thanks!

Promises, Promises

Wow, I have never gone so long without writing a blog post.  Over two months!
 

Writing this blog is probably one of the most rewarding, gratifying, fun things I have ever experienced.  It has given me a chance to do the things I love the most: write, make people laugh, reflect on subjects that seem interesting or current, brag about my adored children and grandchildren.   I have received feedback, not just in comments, but in e-mails, from strangers telling me how much something I have written has touched them, encouraged them and/or inspired them.  Unfortunately, I feel I have been letting myself down in not keeping the blog current. I suppose part of that lapse is because things have changed so drastically since I started writing it.  Although it also could be because I have been so sick.  But surely I should be capable of at least a few words?  I am really disappointed in myself.

I had promised myself I would write certain number of posts per week, or even as few as one per month.  I’ve tried giving blog posts catchy titles, to remind me to keep on schedule, like Photo Friday.  This one would be a no brainer, I thought.  I have a zillion snaps I can tell stories about.  And it had a built in reminder.  Who could forget it was Friday?  Well, me for starters.  “No brainer” seemed to be the operative phrase here.

Then I had the brilliant idea of combining a prayer with a clip of something funny.  See afore mentioned no brain.  Anyone else would have realized, practically immediately, there just aren’t that many amusing prayer subjects out there.  At least not ones that would lend themselves to a laugh-out-loud video clip.

I have sadly neglected my other two blogs as well.  The one about books should be the easiest thing in the world to write, as it is a subject I can go on about for hours.  My MS Renegade blog has also been left flapping in the breeze.  There is so much to say about living with MS, so much I could share with others that might help even a little, but I keep breaking my promises.

However, as we all know, promises break all the time, don’t they?

Sunday, April 17, 1977, I became a mother for the first time.  I promised myself I would be the best mother ever.  I read every book I could get my hands on.  I embraced new age theory, breastfeeding, the family bed, marsupial mothering.  The counter-promise was apparently an emotionally fulfilled child, the most important thing, of course.  But for me, of a peer group that was fraught with challenges between the generations, the other exciting assurance was true and deep friendship with my children as they grew.

My darling children, circa 1990

Best intentions notwithstanding, being human, I have not been a perfect parent.  I did not come close to the lofty goals I set for myself, although I do not believe I was all that bad.  I had enormous fun with my children, was graced with tremendous joy in watching them grow as people and mature into adults that I was so proud of, people I was so happy to spend time with.  We had fun together.  We traveled together, got together and played board games, made each other laugh.  And despite my failings, I thought we were still friends.

But those promises have shattered as well, with agonizing estrangement from two of my beloved children. 

As I have written before, the year I turned fifty my children and my sister threw me a spectacularly affectionate and loving birthday party.  It was a blast.  They planned it as a surprise and later told hilarious stories of how much fun they had organizing it.  I was thrilled and grateful that they had taken so much trouble to make me happy.  But, taking things completely for granted, I had stupidly assumed these relationships would simply continue to flourish and thrive.  These were literally my best friends.  They publicly announced their love and admiration for me at the party.  But what changed?   Were they making it up?  Had they always despised me but just kept it to themselves?  The promise of loving each other forever seemed to be there that wonderful day, but appears to have evaporated into thin air.  The void this has left is unspeakably painful and literally causes me to howl with grief at times.   I have lost so much already, to lose them on top of everything is unbearable. 

Thirty seven years of memories as a mother flash through my brain, all organized around my overpowering love for my children.  And underneath all I can see are all the things I have done wrong, despite my best intentions, despite my promises.

I will continue to try to write my blog despite being broken hearted and miserably sick.  While I was given a blissful reprieve by the steroids, as I predicted, my symptoms have returned with a vengeance. The cancer has spread yet again and a trial of chemo started 10 days ago had to be stopped when the side effects, particularly shortness of breath, became untenable. Without chemo, I do not have a great deal of time left.  My doctor ordered a hospice evaluation this week.  By continuing to write, I want to share successes and achievements.  I want to laugh.  I want to write commentary on issues that matter to me.  I want to live until the end.

I am surrounded by loving, fun, supportive friends who cheer me on and celebrate my writing.  I cling to the premise that there must be a reason for this cordon of support, this core of loyalty and affection.   But this is not easy.  The individuals who are so bitterly angry with me, family members that I loved and trusted, assure me that my wonderful friends are kind to me only because they don’t know what I truly am: an evil, selfish, manipulative liar.  

For someone like me, with inherent Low Self Esteem, it can be easy to buy into such a pronouncement.  After all, it comes from people who have known me their entire lives, people who profess to know me better than anyone on the planet.  So they can make such a proclamation, right?

But here’s the thing…I cannot accept that.  While my heart is utterly shattered by the estrangement from my children, I have to believe that God surrounded me with the love of my friends, my remaining children and my grandchildren, as a comfort and a gift.  His love is a promise I have to believe in.  It is the only thing that can keep me going.  I will pray for the few who harbor such animosity towards me, that they might find peace and tolerance and maybe even reconciliation.  But I will rejoice in those hundreds who celebrate me and who share joy and generosity of spirit. 

  

I will be honest.  It is devastating having cancer, MS and very few treatment options.  But missing my children is worse than all those disasters put together and has rendered me a sniveling, weeping, sloppy mess. As part of an effort to stay calm and strong, I am trying to meditate and pray.  According to the medieval mystic Julian of Norwich, this assurance, this promise, comes directly from God’s mouth:

"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

He promises!  And when my knees are buckling with grief and fear, that promise is holding me up.  Thank you, Lord. 

Amen.

Did you like what you read? Let others know. Thanks!

Not What I Expected

I never, ever thought I would get cancer.  Not in a million years.  But if I did, in my dreams I would be cool and dignified, tragically elegant, wan and heartbreakingly beautiful, facing my fate with courage and decorum.

Snort.  So much for dreams.

In reality, I am a blubbing, hysterical, terrified blob of a mess.  Instead of tissues, I have a roll of paper towels at my bedside to sop up my endless weeping.  The cancer diagnosis is bad enough, but the complications related to MS have me in a panic, mostly because my physicians are in a panic.  Panicky physicians do not inspire a tremendous amount of confidence.

Right now, though, the hardest challenge of all involves my children, who I adore beyond my own life.   For a variety of reasons, some logistical, some personal, at this point in time they cannot be together with me through this.  Of course, we always want what we can’t have and all I want is them.  ALL.  I.  WANT.  IS.  THEM.  My oldest daughter is doing what she can, but, in typical perverse fashion, the situation is too much for her and she alone is not enough for me.  We need to be together as a family.   Their being here would give me the confidence and assurance I need right now.  My courage, my strength, my reason for being, it all comes from them.   I want them here with me, I want to hold their precious hands.  I want their presence, I just want to look at them.  I simply want them.

But even typing those words feels like the most churlish dismissal of what I DO have, which is the most incredible network of support from friends and even people I don’t know.  My friends are the ones who drive me to appointments, listen to me cry, who show up at my back door with frozen drink treats, who tell me everything is going to be all right.  They are the ones who are storming heaven, sending me cards, calling me to tell me they love me.  I do count some family in there, especially my beloved cousin Steve, whose unconditional love has been a constant for my entire life. But for the most part it is friends, acquaintances, friends of friends, virtual friends from our blogs, these are the people who are here for me every minute of the day, radiating caring and hope.

Their campaign of love and optimism is irresistible and I am joining in.  I have never felt worthy before of asking for healing.  But I have been utterly inspired by the confidence that is enveloping me.  I am praying that the cancer has not spread, that the surgery will successfully remove it all, that my care givers will be skilled enough to get me safely through the surgery without needing a vent. 

In January 2004 I teasingly said to my kids “I am turning 50 in September.  I better be getting a pretty darn big party!”  And I did!  My sister and the four of them gave me a wonderful, fun surprise party.  My oldest son delivered a touching toast, stating his pride and love for me.  I was surrounded that day by love and laughter and joy.  It is inexplicable to me that things have gone so terribly wrong. While I am praying for a good outcome and future, more than anything I am praying for my children, that they may also be healed and strengthened and that we can come together as a family once again. 

I listen to meditations written by Belleruth Naparstek, a renowned psychotherapist who was a groundbreaker in the field of guided imagery.  I am focusing on two affirmations in particular to get me through this:

I can feel around me a protective cushion of energy containing all the kindness, good wishes, prayers, gentle smiles, and sweet gestures that have ever been sent my way.

And…

I know that I am held in the hands of God and I am perfectly, utterly safe.

And so I am.

 







Did you like what you read? Let others know. Thanks!

The Invincible Strength of True Love

In the Bible, 1 Corinthians 13, verses one to thirteen, is famous for the declaration that love is the most important thing in and beyond life. Every time I read it I am amazed by the simplicity and elegance of the message:  

1 If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. 

4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 

13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

With Elizabeth and Matt’s wedding on Saturday, I saw the lesson of Corinthians over and over in the presence of the loved ones who celebrated the day with us.

I saw it in Liddy and Matt themselves, how they rarely took their eyes from each other through the day and how they quietly exuded pure joy as they became husband and wife.

I made the liturgical stole Mother Susan is wearing last year as a gift for her.  She thoughtfully made a point of incorporating it in the ceremony.

It was so wonderful to proudly share the day with Matt’s family, his parents, his grandmother, his uncles and aunts, all of whom have welcomed Elizabeth into their arms unconditionally.

Three years ago, my parents, healthy and independent, were happy guests at Ryan’s wedding. My father, even though he is just over serious surgery for a broken hip and struggles to get around, told me he would do anything for Elizabeth and made a monumental effort to be there. He was palpably missing my mother.

Of course my sister, my cohort in laughter, irreverence and all around goofiness, was a huge part of making the day fun, along with her husband and oldest son.
 
Memories flooded me as I watched Mary Kate come down the aisle as Matron of Honor. I could see her the day Elizabeth was born, a two year old not quite sure what to make of her new baby sister.

Elizabeth and Mary Kate

James was so handsome as our usher. He had always been like his baby sister’s personal Court Jester. He was a constant, good natured source of entertainment for Elizabeth and would indulge her in playing any game she asked, singing and dancing along with goofy cartoons on TV or acting out scenarios she directed (usually involving dollies and/or Beverly Hills 90210 episodes).

Ryan gave Elizabeth away. As her other wonderful big brother, even though he was so much older, he also was always finding time to play with her, make silly faces, make her laugh.

My sister-in-law and I have been connected by marriage for over 35 years. She is one of the strongest, bravest, most indomitable women I have ever known. She is as gorgeous today as she was the day I met her. She was with us, along with one of her daughters, a beautiful young woman who, along with her five sisters, I am proud to call my niece.

Friends who have watched Elizabeth grow up surrounded us. These are friends who are true soul mates, people who are so good and good to me they never cease to amaze me with their endless loving kindness. Louise and Henry looked after my father for us and brought him home when he was not well enough to stay any longer, even though it meant they had to leave the reception early. Michael and Bill looked after me all day, getting my massively heavy power wheelchair in and out of the SUV multiple times, a huge outlay of energy and effort. Christine videotaped the wedding as a gift. Juanita and Michael are two of my favorite people in the world, elegant, charming, and, more than anything, kindred spirits. To say I am lucky to have all these people in my life does not even begin to do them justice.
 
As our youngest, Elizabeth held a special place in her father’s heart. With the other kids in school, she and her dad often spent their days together with long walks and trips to the park, just the two of them. She remembered him by carrying his pocket watch with her bouquet.

Ryan walking Elizabeth down the aisle.  Dennis' pocket watch is attached to her bouquet in memory of her dad.

Matt and Liddy’s friends embraced them with laughter and affectionate teasing throughout the day. His best man Jonathan, his friend since nursery school, gave a funny, touching toast that defined what a loyal and true friend Matt is.

My happiness was rounded out by running into other friends after the wedding at the church, by friends of Matt’s parents at the reception and by dear ones who couldn’t make it but were with us in spirit.

These people are the definition of love. The family members who spitefully declined Elizabeth’s loving invitations were not missed. They do not meet the criteria. Love is patient, love is kind. It keeps no record of wrongs.

It always protects. Love never fails.

And now these things remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Some more pictures:

Here comes the bride, escorted by her brother Ryan.

Elizabeth and Matt

One of the centerpieces we brought home.

The banner I made for them.

Banner close up

 My sister Cathy and I

Did you like what you read? Let others know. Thanks!

A Reminder

This is a hard time for me right now. Lots of expensive work going on in the house. Some distressing family issues. Of course, the worry, actually the mind numbing, hyperventilating panic, of being out of work. And I am so weary of being in pain all the time.

But a friend sent me a video that was a good reminder of the importance of prayer, especially for those who have caused me grief. My church’s mission statement is essentially “God’s Unconditional Love Practiced Here”. We are obligated to pray for those who have hurt us.

I have a long list currently:

• The simpletons who laid me off.

• Family members who inexplicably and hurtfully don’t speak to me.

• The plumbers who destroyed my basement and then called me names.

• The pain doctor who blew me off.

• The guy whose careless driving wrecked my car this summer.

• People who leave ignorant, hate filled comments after online news articles.

• People in general who irk the piss out of me.
  

This is for them:



(e-mail readers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rn041uWncU)

Well I never said I was a saint. The mission statement says ‘practice’.

I need a lot of practice.

Love For Sale OR Is There a Spouse in the House?

Once Upon a Time

When I bought my adorable house, a 1930 Craftsman style bungalow, I was as healthy as a horse.

Buying my own home was beyond a dream come true! It was more than I ever had imagined I could possibly accomplish on my own. But I did. I was a single, widowed mother of four. I had driven past this house hundreds of times in the twenty years I had lived at the Shore. It was a real coup to get it. Everyone adores it. BUT, it needs constant maintenance. And I do mean CONSTANT.

I bought the house nine years ago and I was the Constant Maintainer. It was such fun. I really was elated when people seemed amazed that one little person could keep everything up by herself. But I did. Then, as if in slow motion, those balls I was keeping in the air started dropping as I lost my strength. One. By one. By two. By three…

The roof ball dropped first. Then the ceiling ball. The plumbing ball went. The gardening ball. The painting ball fell. The floor mopping ball. Each one hit the floor with a God awful, reverberating crack. Each crack reminded me of a new loss. CRACK! Dependence. CRACK! Neediness. CRACK! Desperation. CRACK! Weakness. CRACK! Deterioration. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Subsequently, my self pity and loneliness have known no bounds.

Things that Make You Say “Hmmmmm…”

Yesterday, I read about a man who was widowed 17 years ago, when his only child was two. He was overwhelmed by grief and didn’t know how he would survive. Then he realized that the one thing keeping him going was fatherhood. So, against all odds and sense, he adopted first one, then another child. In the ensuing time, Larry Shine has adopted six more children, including some with special needs. He took himself from a bereaved, overwhelmed widower to a happy, fulfilled single father of nine. You can read about them here.

I found his story amazing and thought provoking. Even Larry’s name speaks of hope and love: “Shine”.

Hmmmm. (This is the thought provoking part.)

Larry Shine likes to help people. I’m a people. And I need help.

Maybe, I thought, just maybe...could there be a Larry Shine out there for me?!?!

So I have decided to put myself on sale.

There has to be someone out there who would find me attractive wouldn’t find me too revolting. Someone? Anyone?

The Pitch

My strong points:

• I am an excellent cook.
• I love to laugh.
• I love to clean.
• I am a total know-it-all wise ass very smart.
• I think I am very funny.
• I can knit you lots of lovely things. Even underwear if you work, say, in the North Pole. Or its closest southern neighbor, Wisconsin. I don’t think it would be too scratchy?
• I am a complete nightmare a delight to live with.
• I hardly ever never act neurotic or worry about the worst case scenario, like a home invasion by rabid wolverines (the probability in New Jersey is low; I checked). However, you know, it is never a bad idea to be prepared.
• I love movies and know A LOT about them. You will never again need Google for an obscure fact. I know them all. Obnoxious on someone less modest, but charming on me. :)
• I hate people am a total people person, even when it comes to your old college roommates who wear Tasmanian Devil t-shirts and have hair implants and do war whoops like nine year olds as they drunkenly cannon ball into the pool.
• I am over well educated. I can impress all your buddies at the bar with my skill at Jeopardy when they are trying to watch the play-offs. Would that be interrupting? That wouldn’t be a problem, would it be?

The Follow Up Pitch

• I have been in therapy for most of my adult life, but I should be self actualized any second now. Then, once I get over being madly in love with my therapist, I should be radically well.
• I am mature and self sufficient. Well, mature except for thinking LOL Cats is hilarious. And I am relatively self sufficient except for occasionally having to be reminded about that whole electricity/water thing.
• I do not cling or believe my significant other is the be all and end all. Unless you really want me to. Then I think I could do clingy. Hmmmm. Thinking…thinking…clingy…well, ok...but it would be a stretch! HA HA I love puns. That is the kind of sense of humor I have. LOL Cats and corny puns. What can I say, you could do worse. You could get someone who thinks Nancy Grace is an intellectual powerhouse of an investigative journalist.
• I never cry. Pretty good in a woman, eh!?! I simply hold it all in until I explode in a short lived but embarrassing, inappropriate rage have a calm and rational discussion until we clear the air.
• I do not love long walks on the beach and flea markets and sunsets. I hate shopping. And children. ha ha Just kidding. I love sunsets.
• I never know when to keep my mouth shut am very quiet and discreet. Because of this, I frequently say inadvertently offensive things to people I have just met, I am well liked from the minute I am met.
• I have rowdy wild possessed enchanting curly hair and green eyes.
• I am short and fat chubby pleasingly plump round.
• I do not smoke.
• I LOVE to drink like to drink would have a central line to deliver vodka straight to my liver if I could drink moderately.
• I was was almost wanted to be at Woodstock.
• I am hopelessly dorky a total nerd geeky beyond belief boring to anyone who has an actual life incredibly cool.
• I love my dog, but you don’t have to. Just don’t drop kick her or anything. But showing too much interest in her might be interpreted as a tad creepy.

Now I will just sit back and wait for the proposals to roll in. It better be fast. Because a rainstorm definitely is rolling in and that pesky roof still is leaking.

WEDDING!!!!!

And what a wedding it was. It is an incredible experience to be in the same space as 200 people who are simply overjoyed to be together. It would not be an overstatement to say the day was absolutely perfect: the company, the weather, the happiness, the fun. And oh, everyone had SUCH fun.

First there was the groom and his handsome groomsmen. With the exception of Claire’s brothers, these are boys (ok, men!) that I have known since they were little guys. Not only have they grown up to be stunningly attractive, they are the nicest, kindest, funniest, sweetest people you could ever meet (and I have discovered even though they are new in my life, Claire's brothers also fit into those categories!):

Ryan, looking very cool, calm and collected indeed on the way to the church:

Ryan seeing Claire as she appears at the back of the church:




Here comes the bride:

Makes me cry:







My four, Elizabeth, Mary Kate, Ryan and James:





At the beach:








The reception was a blast. Ryan and I danced to In My Life. The great band kept everyone dancing. Yep, I was able to dance thanks to my dearest friends, who held onto me so I could feel normal. Thanks Michael, Christine, Cathy, Bill and Peter! I danced A LOT with my friends holding me up. The band was awesome and played a lot of Bruce. Of course when they started Jersey Girl, I was in the Ladies brushing my teeth (ok, I'm a teensy bit neurotic about oral hygiene). But within minutes, me, my sister, my best friend Christine were all belting it out. 'Cause down the Shore, everything's alright...nothing matters in this whole wide world when you're in love with a Jersey girl!!! lol

I didn’t cry as much as I thought I would. I felt so sad for Ryan that his dad wasn’t there. But Ryan and Claire did not forget him. Dennis was mentioned in the program and his memory was evoked at every table.




(I don't know why apples; when I find out, I will tell you.)

My sister-in-law, who I LOVE, sat next to me. My nieces (3 of her 6 girls) were there as well, along with my cousins, my aunts and best friends (I am lucky enough to have even more wonderful people in my life; I only wish I could have invited them all!!). I was surrounded by love. How blessed I am!!

The reason I didn’t cry buckets because I was so, so happy for these two, who are clearly meant for each other. I was choked up thinking of my precious little boys, how they have grown and how proud I am of them.



There are places I remember
all my life
though some have changed.

Some forever, not for better,
some have gone
and some remain.

All these places have their moments,
with lovers and friends I still can recall
some are dead and some are living;
in my life, I’ve loved them all.

But of all these friends and lovers
there is no one compares with you
and these memories lose their meaning
when I think of love as something new.

Though I know I’ll never lose affection
for people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them.
In my life, I love you more.

And just like that....

...it's over. Well for now. Right after I post my saddest, most brutally depressing post ever. How ironic.

It has happened so fast, I have not even gotten used to the idea yet.

I’ve been offered a temporary, three month position doing work for a large physician practice management organization (that is what my background is). They wanted me to start immediately. And so I will. :)

It has been so long and so hard, I am having a hard time getting excited or even feeling happy. I am relieved. It is a reprieve. If they like me, the assignment could be extended.

Oh my goodness. I feel as though I can breathe again. Although it is going to take so much work to clean up the mess this debacle has left behind. But I can only take on one thing at a time.

Thank you everyone for your good wishes and prayers and encouragement. Thank you to my family and my parish family and my friends, especially Christine and Cathy, who stuck by me and endlessly offered support and love and hope.

I have so much to be grateful for.

I’M WORKING AGAIN!!!!!!!!

The Lake

My first born burst into the world, took a deep breath...and peed on me. Ahhh, motherhood.

That was 31 years ago, but the moment is as vivid as five minutes ago. That is what 31 years are. Five minutes.

Ryan is, of course, a big boy now. He is getting married in a few weeks. He is handsome and smart and charming. Everyone adores him. He is a lawyer.

Did I mention he is a lawyer?

He and his fiancée, Claire (a lawyer too), have just bought a lake house in the Adirondacks where her family has summered for almost 100 years, in the same adorable cabin. They invited me, so I took a ride (a FIVE HOUR ride) up this weekend.

Did I mention Claire was a lawyer?

I am not a piney-woods sort of girl. I am more of a Westin Heavenly Bed, with a spa a few floors away sort of girl. But the charm of this place is inescapable. Stepping out of the car, you are submerged in the scent of pine. The sky is almost blocked by the height of the trees. It is lovely.

Claire's family (I think there were 1000 of them, but I may have miscounted) welcomed me with overwhelmingly open arms. I felt as though I had grown up there.

The connection going back decades is so precious to this family that it just absorbs you. I walked down to the lake Sunday morning thinking, this will be my grandchildren’s summer home. They will know every tree, rock and turn in the road. So I better too. Because five minutes goes by very, very quickly.