tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82644664258522611242024-03-11T21:52:33.056-07:0043rdYear: ContinuedMrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-67513805778613290822019-10-09T15:26:00.000-07:002019-10-09T15:26:46.846-07:00Drash for Kol Nidre 2019<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">KN 5780</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">U’netaneh Tokef</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I was thinking a lot about what to say tonight - thinking about why this holiday is so important to me - why I consider it my favorite holiday of the year. And I read an article about how, even in the darkest of times, Jews have found a way to mark Yom Kippur. From the Spanish Inquisition through the Holocaust - in secret and in desperation and sometimes at the risk of their lives - Jews commemorate this day. Why?</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I’m a pretty Johnny-come-lately Jew. I was raised in a completely secular household and sought a more Jewish life as an adult. I remember going to my first Yom Kippur service at B’nai Jeshrun on the Upper West Side in New York about 25 years ago. I felt so out of place - I didn’t know the prayers, I didn’t understand the words. And still I was mesmerized - struck by the melodies and the power of the energy of that room. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I still don’t knew Hebrew - much to my husband’s chagrin - and I still don’t understand all the prayers. But I realized that the more I understood the liturgy, the less I felt out of place when everyone around me was davening and shockling. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">And so my Jewish life has become not so much a system of belief as a process of discovery. Study of the words and why they were written leads me on a path to my own religion. And as I dive into specific parts of the liturgy, one thing becomes clear. Judaism - no matter how you observe it - is a tradition committed to personal agency and the possibility of transformation. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Last year, we talked about the Kol Nidre itself - the legal contract that kicks off the service and frees us from our vows and promises so that we may move into the new year with a clean slate. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">This year, I want to move from law to poetry. Because this rich service that takes us on a 25 hour journey through our souls includes legal concepts, prayer and yes, poetry. In fact, contained within the High Holy Services is a poem so beautiful it inspired one of Leonard Cohen’s most haunting songs, Who By Fire. Its a stunning melody, but sort of a bummer. Its basically a contemplation of all the ways we can die. That’s the holiday in a nutshell, right? “On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on the Fast of the Day of Atonement, it is sealed.” We’re told our names may not be written in the book of life. Bummer.</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Helvetica-Oblique; font-style: italic;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Let’s face it - the whole holiday is a bit of a bummer. We dress in white and men wear kittel - the garment they will be buried in. We don’t eat food or drink water. Its basically a dress rehearsal for death. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Helvetica-Oblique; font-style: italic;">(So Jewish - its a wonder we don’t call our estate planners and ask them to join us during the restorative yoga break before sundown.)</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"> But to approach the holiday as a bummer would be to miss entirely what’s so beautiful about it. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">This poem, the U’netaneh Tokef, which literally means LET US SPEAK, is said on both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, in the third b’rakah of the Amidah in Musaf. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">That means that on Yom Kippur, it comes just around the time you’re starting to feel weak from hunger. You might be thinking about how you’re going to make it to Neilah, or you’re starting to calculate the hours left before break fast. You might miss Musaf because cut out of services early to take a walk with a friend, or maybe your YK nap went a little long and you’ll just meet everyone later over a bagel. That’s ok. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">But let’s assume you stay. Now, its Musaf, and the ark is open and we stand for the repetition of the amidah. We reach the Unetaneh Tokef - a poem with a perfect three act structure. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">The first act is pomp and circumstance. God is on a throne, angels are trembling and the shofar is sounded - a reminder to wake up - pay attention. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">The second act is all plot - who will live and who will die, who by fire and who by water, who by famine and who by thirst- its brutal.</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">You’re vulnerable anyway - tired and hungry - and the liturgy chooses this moment to remind you of your fragility - remind you of how quickly what you have can be taken away. It says you have no power at all - your destiny is written in a book you can’t read and kept in a place you can’t find. Its deep stuff - and terrifying. It plays on all of our worst fears. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">How many moments or hours or days of the week do we spend thinking about bad things - future fantasizing our anxieties about death or disease, literal and metaphorical - our failures and our foibles - what might befall our aging parents, our growing children, our bank accounts, our work life, our personal relationships? Time spent contemplating the exact things listed in this doom poem and more. We know its not productive and we get caught in a cycle that feels out of control. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">So just when the Unetaneh Tokef is leaning into our greatest weaknesses, something extraordinary happens. A second act twist if you will. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Helvetica-Oblique; font-style: italic;">Mind you, this part is NOT in the Leonard Cohen song. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">After that long list of horrible things we have no control over, when we are feeling at our most vulnerable and out of control, we say the following words: </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">U-t’shuvah, u-t’fillah u-tz’dakah ma-avirin et ro’a ha-g’zerah.</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Helvetica-BoldOblique; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">But T’shuvah, T’fillah and Tz’dakah have the power to transform the harshness of our destiny. (Other translation - “avert the severe decree”)</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">T’shuvah - repentance but also return</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">T’fillah - prayer but also self-reflection</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Tz’dakah - righteousness, justice and charity</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">We go from a list of things that can happen TO us straight to a list of things WE CAN DO - things that are proactive - things that have the power to transform. We are told to not wait for God to act upon us but to take action in our own lives and the lives of others - welcome a stranger into your home, feed the hungry, change the effect of the list of things that can kill you by living in the present.</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">And just like that we go from victim to protagonist - just like that we become the author of our own story, and just like that we go from waiting for something to happen to us - to deciding that WE determine our own present. Bad things can happen. But we are told in this moment that how we live our lives, how we act toward ourselves, toward God and toward one another is what determines the value and quality of our time here on earth. God inscribes and seals - but how we live this day, and how we feel about this day, is up to us. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">The third act and denouement is a reminder: each of us comes from dust - and to dust we shall return. Our days on earth are limited. How will we live them? What choices will we make? What will our attitude be?</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Three acts of the story - the three movements to the poem. First, the wake up call. Second, the warning and call to action. And finally, the reminder of fragility. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">And so suddenly it occurred to me - this question of why, in the darkest of times, at the risk of their own lives, whether secular or religious, Jews for centuries connect to this moment of deep spiritual work. Its because on some level, the law and the prayer and the poetry lead to this one thing, and I can’t possibly say it better than Viktor Frankl so I will quote him: </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #545454; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial-ItalicMT; font-style: italic;">Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">U’netaneh Tokef: the key to unlocking so much of what this 25 hours is about. It is the reminder to live in the present - to take control of your life, and to have the humility to know that we are but dust. We don’t know how many days or years we will have. But we determine how we will live them. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">G’mar chatimah tova. </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Helvetica-Oblique; font-style: italic;"></span><br /></div>
Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-8512315486951186112018-09-20T07:09:00.003-07:002018-09-20T07:09:41.277-07:00Kol Nidre 2018Kol Nidre 2018<br />
<br />
<br />
Hatikvah, the theme from Schindler’s List, Amazing Grace, and the Kol Nidre. Four melodies that can move me to tears. As Jews, we do a lot of our praying out loud and we do a lot to melody. Some of us may not know all the Hebrew. But we know the niggun, the melody. And those niggunim become a part of our tradition – a part of our connection to our history and our liturgy. To open Yom Kippur, we sing the Kol Nidre three times - three times we make the declaration aloud, growing in volume with each repetition as though we are calling out, proclaiming that we must be heard. Being heard is a big part of Yom Kippur. This is the only night of the year we say the second line of the Shema out loud. At the end of Neilah, we say the Shema aloud again just prior to the shofar blasting out to be heard by all. And to me, all of this praying and singing and calling out to be heard is about awakening and connecting – awaking our souls to connect to a power greater than us. But to what end?<br />
<br />
I got stuck, as I was thinking about what to say tonight, on the words of the Kol Nidre. Kol Nidre is an Aramaic phrase which means, “All Vows.” It is not a prayer, it makes no requests and is not addressed to God. Rather, the Kol Nidre is a juristic declaration before the prayers of Yom Kippur begin - before the prayers for the Day of Atonement.<br />
<br />
Atonement, according to the Oxford dictionary, is synonymous with expiation. And expiation is defined as “showing” regret for something. Expiation is the ACT of making amends or reparation for wrongdoing. Atonement is action. Praying to a melody out loud is action. And action is that which has the power to bring healing. <br />
<br />
Atonement is not “sorry”. “Sorry” is easy. “Sorry I burnt dinner.” ‘Sorry I was running late”. “I didn’t mean to let you down, lie to you, break your heart - I’m so sorry”. Confession is hard. I burnt dinner because I wasn’t paying attention. I was mad at you. I’m afraid to tell you that I lied to you, cheated on you, am jealous of you. We don’t confess to the things we should be sorry for and we say we’re sorry for things we shouldn’t. Sorry about traffic. Sorry about the weather. Sorry you had a hard day. That’s not what we mean. We might mean we empathize, or we might just be trying to placate our husband, child, boss, colleague. In the first case it’s not something we have any control over, and in the second, we’re merely making perfunctory acknowledgement of someone else’s pain. <br />
<br />
Sorry is not confession nor is it a request for forgiveness. But on this night, we do both. We confess. And we beg forgiveness. We stand and we beat our breasts and say those things that are hard to admit to, difficult to acknowledge and terribly, terribly embarrassing to say aloud. There is a reason we fast on this day. A reason we stand for so much of the day and a reason we do it together. Judgement is not easy and is neither asked for nor made in isolation.<br />
<br />
So tonight we gather together to atone for the sins of the previous year, right? WRONG. Because in fact, the Kol Nidre declaration isn’t about the year that was at all. It is about the year to come. It says very clearly “the vows we make from THIS Yom Kippur to the NEXT Yom Kippur”. We think of the holiday as one of repentance, and we think of repentance as most certainly in the past. But that is NOT what the Kol Nidre says. So, what is going on?<br />
<br />
For centuries the language did say from last year to this year – it was a declaration addressing the year that was. But it was changed in the 12th Century by Rabbineu Tam, a son of Rashi, who changed it to the future tense so that the Kol Nidre would conform to the Talmudic passage from Rosh Hashanah which says, “He who desires that none of his vows made during the year shall be valid, let him stand at the beginning of the year and declare, ‘every vow which I may make in the future shall be null.’” Well that’s confusing. Why would we want to invalidate a vow that we have not even made?<br />
<br />
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks gives a terrific insight to the Kol Nidre when he talks about Moses pleading with God to forgive the people of Israel who have sinned by making the Golden Calf. God vows to kill those who have sinned so egregiously against him. And Moses basically talks him out of it. Moses pleads with God to forgive the people of Israel so that they may live to go forth to the promised land. God breaks his vow, he lets the people live and in doing so allows them to go forth – he allows us to be free. <br />
<br />
Go back now, to the Kol Nidre declaration which says very clearly that our vows “shall not bind us nor have power over us.” We are NOT off the hook for vows made to another person. For that, the Torah says very clearly that we must ask forgiveness of the individual we have wronged. What the Kol Nidre says is that we are asking to be released from vows and promises to ourselves and to God. If I resolve to do something and I don’t do it, I’m a failure. I am burdened by my own shortcomings, stuck in my own past. But if I acknowledge the possibility of failure, if I say my vows have no power over me – then maybe I can get unstuck – maybe I can find forgiveness for myself, be a little gentler with myself about my own shortcomings so that I may learn from them and grow beyond them. If we consider the Kol Nidre in this light as we go into a day of confession and acknowledgement, then all of the work we are about to do becomes a reminder to forgive ourselves as God forgives us our failures. And that forgiveness becomes freedom. Not freedom to behave badly or do whatever we want. But freedom to fulfill our potential, freedom to be our very best selves. <br />
<br />
On Passover, we free ourselves from the Egyptians, on Chanukah, we free ourselves from the Seleucids. But on Yom Kippur, we experience a freedom that is entirely about our relationship with God. On Yom Kippur, we free ourselves from our selves. <br />
<br />
As we prepare to chant the Kol Nidre aloud together, I want to share one final thought with you: Reuven Hammer said “Prayer recited in community has a special dimension... Judaism does not discourage solitary prayer. But Judaism is wary lest such aloneness become the norm and the permanent condition of the human being... prayer should lead us toward the love and care of the world we meet and through prayer we discover how important the community is for sustaining our own salvation.”<br />
<br />
So tonight, we raise our voices in prayer as a community of people who are here to do the work, to confess, to forgive and to aspire to a new year of the freedom to be our very best selves. Shana tovah. <br />
<br />Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-33556091849949115812016-06-19T20:22:00.002-07:002016-06-23T23:21:11.483-07:00So, this is 50.<div class="MsoNormal">
So, This is 50.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So this is 50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
doesn’t feel like 50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t feel
like halfway to one hundred and it certainly doesn’t feel like I’m statistically
well over halfway done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>50 doesn’t feel
like anything special or semi-centennial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn’t get a notice in the mail that I needed a 50-year oil check or
special service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I certainly didn’t
think I’d be 50 and feel like I’ve not accomplished enough or done enough or
been to all the places I wanted to have gone and done and accomplished by now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I guess I don’t really know what 50 should feel like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I thought it should feel generally
older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think when I was younger, like
last week, I thought that 50 would feel monumental and revelatory and slightly
creaky and dignified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I thought
a lot about what 50 seemed like to me when other people wore it, when I looked
at it through younger eyes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My father never got to be 50, so I don’t know what that
looked like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time my mother was
50, she was a widow with three almost adult kids and a soon to be second
husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time my grandmother was
50 she had survived the death of both of her parents, life as an orphan, a
world war, and emigration first to Israel and then to the United States.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By 50, she had raised two beautiful
daughters, run her husband’s business, seen the birth of her first
granddaughter and had endured and taken in her stride more of life’s hardships
and joys than most of us will ever know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn’t know her then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t
born yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’ve seen pictures of what
she looked like at 50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>50, on the face
of my grandmother who had lived a dozen lives by then, looked wrinkled and worn
through and kind and soft and woven with a thousand stories never told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>50 looked old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
50 doesn’t look old anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I look around at friends close to either side of the line and none of
them look like what I think of when I think of 50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>50, at least in Los Angeles in the year
2016, looks pretty hot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t feel hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Here’s how I feel: Dorky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
little out of place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little awkward,
a little unpopular, a little like I’m always saying, doing or wearing the
SLIGHTLY wrong thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel young in a
junior high sort of way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I’m
not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I have an awareness that the
world responds to me as a somewhat dignified and relatively competent
adult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An adult who recognizes appropriate
skirt length and bedtime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An adult who
has the right advice about things like laundry and deal memos and cooking and
how to deal with a difficult work situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can tell myself the story of my life and it certainly seems to cover
50 years worth of stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But truly I
don’t feel like what I think 50 is supposed to feel like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s what I know: I don’t look as young as I think I
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not a babe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m attractive enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I’m no longer a bird, a skirt, a chick
or a lass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m a broad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m a dame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I sit more comfortably in my slightly saggy, gravity challenged
skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like that I spend no time
worrying about what men think about me when I walk down the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally walk down the street thinking about
what I want to think about rather than what I think others think about me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that is a massive relief.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So part of me is relieved to be 50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Part of me is relieved to be beyond the stage
in my life where I worry about getting pregnant, where I try to figure out what
moisturizer to use to prevent wrinkles, where I think about whether a heel
height or skirt length is work appropriate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Here’s the truth: I can’t get pregnant, I’m already wrinkled and I can’t
wear a short skirt even if I wanted to thanks to the earth’s gravitational pull
on my age-challenged thighs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And part of me is terrified and struggling to reconcile the
fact that 50 years have passed and I have so much less to show for it than I
thought I would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My 50-year-old ego is
struggling with my 50 year old soul and winning the battle 50 percent of the
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not only halfway through the
century, I’m halfway between satisfied and yearning, halfway between secure and
terrified, halfway between the utter Zen that comes with knowing yourself and
the sheer panic that the self you know is not good enough, not accomplished
enough, rich enough, pretty enough, smart enough, generous or kind enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s what I also know: very few of us escape the approach
to 50 unscathed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In talking to friends
and colleagues, it seems that no amount of wealth, success or acknowledgment
can prevent the inevitable navel gazing and self-flagellation that accompanies
the half-century mark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The truth is, I always hoped I would approach my 50<sup>th</sup>
year with grace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fantasized that I
would be the woman skating through middle age with all the elegance of one of
those thin waspy ladies with a perfect shoulder length silver bob and a blasé
attitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in fact, I spent my 49<sup>th</sup>
year struggling and raging and fighting against the inevitable in a graceless,
wretched way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was the opposite of
stoic, alternately manic and anxious and depressed like a teenager.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life and career slapped me down left and
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My 49<sup>th</sup> year was an
unwanted lesson in humility and humiliation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m not sure I understood either fully until this past year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I looked them up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Humiliation</i> is
defined as embarrassment, mortification or shame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there is certainly a lot about turning 50
that feels humiliating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Skin that is
slack beyond my control resulting in a “resting bitch face” that is neither
appealing nor representative of my general state.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hair that grows where it shouldn’t and thins
where it should.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A defiance of gravity
overall that reminds me that a mumu should replace a bikini as acceptable beach
wear. And those are just the things that slap me in the face upon waking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Humility</i> is
defined as a lack of vanity or pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
this has been the toughest lesson of all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because no amount of vanity or pride or EGO will stop the progress of
time, no amount of flailing or denial can prevent the inevitable forward march
of the clock that reminds us that we have to struggle to remain relevant and
cling to our connections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of it can
be taken for granted and none of us is immune.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is a story told by rabbis about the man who walks around with a
piece of paper in each pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On one is
written, “The World was made for me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On
the other is written, “I am but dust and ashes.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This dichotomy is the struggle between ego
and humility, between hubris and confidence, between humility and humiliation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because it turns out that if you are truly
humble, you are immune to humiliation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
not sure why it has taken me 50 years to learn the lessons I have in the past
twelve months, but here I am and shockingly, right by my side through the
raging and tears and fear and anger is my husband, my dear friends and family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">that,</b>
is truly humbling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here, in a nutshell, is my advice to my 50 year old self: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ol>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Have sex with your husband whenever you can even
if your body is not in the mood because your heart and soul with never regret
it. </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Have that sex on your back or in the dark.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The wisdom of this should be obvious.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Accept that you do not know very much about the
internet.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">You will never know as much as
your assistant or your child.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Skype is
passé.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Use phrases like “Google Chat”
or “slack” instead.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">You can download
Wishbone on your iPhone but you’ll never actually use it.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And Minecraft is a subversive slippery slope
created by Swedes to make us all feel like losers.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Keep tweezers in your purse, your office and
your car because daylight is a harsh and cruel master and whiskers are not
found only on kittens.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Wear skirts of appropriate length and underwear
that is always slightly inappropriate. </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Accept that the smile you just got from the male
passerby is probably “that’s a nice looking older lady, I wonder if she needs
help across the street” and not “I want to bang that chick”.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Embrace your age.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And it will embrace you back.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">There is nothing so satisfying or so humbling
as acknowledging how much and how little you’ve achieved at the midpoint of
your life.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Enjoy the paradox that might
have tortured you in your youth.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Or even
in your 49</span><sup style="text-indent: -0.25in;">th</sup><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> year.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></li>
</ol>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
<w:UseFELayout/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="276">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-language:JA;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-52625738017140573222015-12-03T01:54:00.000-08:002015-12-03T01:54:18.093-08:00PRODUCTION POTATOES aka I'm back<i>I'm back. Sort of. I confess I disappeared from the blogosphere and cannot commit to this as a triumphant return. I'm here, for the moment, checking in from down under (and by this I do NOT mean a Rhianna-type reference to my nether regions but rather an actual geographical reference to a large continent in the Southern Hemisphere known as "Oz"). Likely no one will know that I've checked back in. That's ok. This is merely a shot over the bow - a flare in the dark to say "I'm still here." 43 is barely a flicker in the rearview mirror. The half century mark rapidly approaches. And just for tonight, just in the middle of shooting my second movie as a producer in my second act, I'm back...</i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 29 of 45 is now over and I’m dug deep into the
ivory pleather couch in my Gold Coast Australia rental. I'm 43 flights above the beachfront and fighting the urge to throw myself off this
Southern Hemisphere balcony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I'm hungry. I'm tired. I want desperately to be a pot smoker but am tragically still unhip. I'd like to say I have the energy to shower, make myself presentable and sit at the bar of my local ready to tuck into a beautifully prepared meal. But neither of these is the case. So, h</span>ere now, with no better option, is the solution to my food dilemma for the evening. I have no room service and no food delivery in this subpar
culture posing as a first world civilization. And so, operating under the assumption that life, in fact, is
nothing like a box of chocolates but is much more like a pantry full of
mismatched foods that blend together in no particular way until you come home,
exhausted, starving, desperate for a cocktail and carbs after a very long
shooting day, is my new favorite dish:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
PRODUCTION POTATOES<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Recipe is per serving
and may be multiplied at will<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li>Two baking, Yukon or delicious golden Aussie potatoes sliced
3/8” to ¼” thick</li>
<li>Two eggs</li>
<li>One golf ball size chunk of sheep’s milk feta</li>
<li>Half a small handful of fresh herbs, rosemary a must,
anything else a bonus</li>
<li>Squeeze of fresh lemon</li>
<li>Salt and pepper – lots of each</li>
<li>Two glugs of gorgeous olive oil (if you don’t know what a
glug is, you shouldn’t be cooking)</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Slice potatoes and spread in a shallow fry pan,
cover with water, salt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Bring to high heat and simmer 10 minutes until
water boils down and potatoes are lonely in the pan<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Smother with oil glugs, salt and pepper<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Cover pan and cook until you’re forced to turn
on the fan or risk setting off the fire alarm<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->When there’s a crispy crust on at least one
side, throw in handful of herbs and a squeeze of lemon – cover for one minute.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Crack eggs over potatoes, cover and cook for one
minute, turn off heat and cook for one more minute.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Sprinkle feta over top and serve with an extra large glass of chilled
pinot noir and a salad or crudité.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
<w:UseFELayout/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="276">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-language:JA;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
<br /></div>
Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-91071901242477094532011-11-06T21:06:00.000-08:002011-11-06T21:06:42.881-08:00Empty Nest...<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq050VwHavRDnFUIMusY6NrYEytDSuQ9M4m338fxDzqLNItZExdAIOs3AJd9h99lsVWAkvA1pZJkwH0AD7Ix7W0XkHKaZGMxwEfZXmwV2z7WVaGX5fhxue1scttP_l59na-GZdP5IuTuY/s1600/empty_nest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq050VwHavRDnFUIMusY6NrYEytDSuQ9M4m338fxDzqLNItZExdAIOs3AJd9h99lsVWAkvA1pZJkwH0AD7Ix7W0XkHKaZGMxwEfZXmwV2z7WVaGX5fhxue1scttP_l59na-GZdP5IuTuY/s320/empty_nest.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The first one was the worst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shabbat dinner with no children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child One was at college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child Two was in his first week of the new custody arrangement – a 50/50 split which gives him more overall time with us but only every other weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So Shabbat rolled around and rather than race home to make dinner for anywhere from four to fourteen people which often included friends of Child One, I came home to an almost empty house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sig Other lay on the couch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I came in, put down my bags, took off my shoes and sat down next to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Should we land candles?” I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No,” he replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you want dinner?” “I’m not hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Not really,” I replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I meant it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so our first Shabbat without children passed with no blessings, no candles, no singing, no shared stories of the week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sat on the sofa, in the dark, catching up on reality television and eating leftover crudités from a plastic container.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By 9pm, we were asleep.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second Shabbat on our own was almost worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided we could not simply ignore the Sabbath, could not simply sit like tragic zombies worshipping our apple TV, picking through the Friday night dregs of the refrigerator and waiting desperately for the empty weekend to pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided we would have Shabbat with or without children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I came home, laid a proper table, opened a bottle of wine and set out the candles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If anything, the mere process of going through the ritual for just the two of us was an even lonelier experience than not going through it at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It turns out that ignoring Shabbat is far less sad than observing in the absence of those who make observation relevant. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me explain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Sig Other and I became a couple, we discussed the ritual of Shabbat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was important to me because I felt I could finally honor the age-old tradition of my ancestors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was important to Sig Other because he could, as he put it, teach the children about their religion so they knew what it was they were rejecting when it came time to reject it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Shabbat became important to all of us as our Friday nights truly represent what is most meaningful about the ritual – coming together as a family, taking time to honor one another and to honor the demarcation of the end of the work week and the beginning of the time we have, however short, to renew our selves, our bodies and spirits, to prepare for the next week ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Shabbat dinners, though, are both a blessing and a burden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friday night is not just any other night of the week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The food should be special, the table beautifully set, the mood a little different from every other night of the week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this creation of a family setting has been foremost for me for the past almost eight years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the creation of a family environment is not without a price tag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Periodically, whene the week had been particularly cruel and I particularly tired, I would have pangs of resentment about being SuperStep and pangs of longing for a honeymoon with my husband I never had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We never had time to be a young couple, never had periods of romantic Friday night dates and weekends away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And integrating the children into our lives, making the “step-ness” of our lives a perfectly normal thing, was more important than any walk on the beach, any quiet moment, any candlelit dinner a deux.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So you would think I would relish a Friday night alone, you’d think I’d be thrilled to not worry about what to cook, whether there are fresh flowers on the table, what time the kids will be home from school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’d think this would be an opportunity. Child One is 3000 miles away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child Two is on a regular schedule of back and forth that affords us two weeknights and every other weekend entirely on our own. Perfect, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great opportunity for romance, for coupley solitude, for self-education, self-expansion, self-growth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But really all we are is lonely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really all we do in our moments alone is think about how much we miss the children, how much we miss Child One and her friends and reminisce about days and dinners gone by.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I suppose it’s a victory in a way – I suppose missing the children this much means we managed to integrate them and ourselves into a semblance of perfectly conventional family life in spite of a perfectly unconventional setting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it doesn’t feel like a victory somehow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feels more like a weekend spent thinking about the next time we’ll all be together as one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-34946686540541046342011-10-19T16:58:00.000-07:002011-10-19T16:58:57.903-07:00Hospitality???<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCYnscZvvOGKRsCFMzR2MOKlH77EeR0f1d7IKWNRxCGwIqeStm9KyorAF5Ttl2FmNLX22UISQRos65lDWcGDfZJ2JodbHigC9S2G-eMRo0LhuiSma-EcquG4so_dCkhGptdMzAXoW5zM/s1600/IMG00534-20111019-1640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCYnscZvvOGKRsCFMzR2MOKlH77EeR0f1d7IKWNRxCGwIqeStm9KyorAF5Ttl2FmNLX22UISQRos65lDWcGDfZJ2JodbHigC9S2G-eMRo0LhuiSma-EcquG4so_dCkhGptdMzAXoW5zM/s320/IMG00534-20111019-1640.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>There's nothing I hate more than checking into a hotel I frequent as a business or personal guest to no amenities. I like to know that loyalty is honored rather than familiarity breeding contempt. A note, a flower arrangement, cookies for kids - all are greeted with great enthusiasm. Fruit plates, on the other hand, can be a mixed bag. Consider the grapefruit, for instance. A grapefruit, in my mind, is perfect for squeezing fresh juice. It may also be useful when sliced into supremes and put in a salad. Less oft, though certainly admired, is the grapefruit halved and sectioned at the breakfast table. But rarely, rarely does one think of the grapefruit as a delicious option for a fruit bowl. Unlike the handy apple, the grapefruit cannot be picked up and walked away with. Its peel is unwieldy, often thick and overly pithy. Unlike the banana, the grapefruit has massive seeds one can't carry as one piece and deposit politely into nearby rubbish. And unlike the fruit-bowl friendly grape, a grapefruit is drippy and messy even after peeled and pithed. So why, I wonder, do hotels bother to put such a daunting fruit in a basket meant to serve as hospitality? Well, is has great volume, I suppose. It might take two apples, a trio of apricots and at least two dozen grapes to fill the space taken by one juicy grapefruit. And unlike its soft-skinned cousins, the mighty citrus lasts (or at least gives the appearance of lasting) a good long time. No mushy edges, no spoilt centers - the grapefruit can go on for weeks looking fresh as the day it was picked.<br />
<br />
So a fruitbowl, I imagine, stands for hospitality in the modern age. Long gone are the days of truly personal touches - a favorite cookie or preferred flower. To be honest, I'd even prefer a fresh fig or apricot or representation of anything seasonal in its stead. But grapefruit we get and so grapefruit, it seems, we shall endure...Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-11882759343740405992011-10-11T20:49:00.000-07:002011-10-11T20:49:48.833-07:00WHAT ABOUT mini-ME???<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Those of you familiar with Sig Other in worlds either virtual or real know that he is the true originator of the phrase, "What about me?" It is the name of his future auto-biography. And it is his daily credo. But the apple, it turns out, doesn't fall far from the tree. My return to the blogosphere after prolonged absence was greeted by a call from Child One who chided, "I saw you wrote on your blog today." "Yes," I said, "how did you know?" "I check it all the time," said she, and continued, "but I was surprised you didn't write about me. I mean, its been a big year, with me going to college and all the change." She paused then and continued, "Why didn't write about that?"</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In truth, I've written a great deal about that - about how difficult her summer between highschool and college was, about the loss Sig Other and I feel with her absence, about the profound shift in all of our lives as she's transitioned, rather ungracefully, into adulthood. But none of it felt appropriate for publication. None of it, that is, except this short piece written at the request of my friend Nicola who created the 10Q (<a href="http://www.doyou10Q.com/">www.doyou10Q.com</a>). So here it is (for you, my sweet Child One) - evidence that I really do think (and write) about you...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">THINK ABOUT A MAJOR MILESTONE THAT AFFECTED YOUR FAMILY THIS YEAR…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It would be easiest, I suppose, to go straight to the obvious – the empty bedroom down the hall, the closet missing half its wardrobe, the usually messy bathroom now standing idle waiting to be made a mess again in a few months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The easiest thing – the most obvious thing to point to, when asked to think about a major milestone, would be the matriculation of our daughter to college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The house is emptier, the world a little quieter, the days a little less full, because K is 3000 miles away experiencing a whole new life without us.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But in fact, that monumental event is NOT the thing that comes to mind when I think about a major milestone of this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, what I think about is the text I got from K one day this summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It read: “…how glad I am to have a stepmother who yells at me for parking her car badly.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am that stepmother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for years I worked at NOT yelling at anybody for anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For years I did what most steps do – I twisted myself into a pretzel to do the right thing, to cook the right thing, to say the right thing so the children would feel safe and comfortable and loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I kept my mouth shut about things I felt were wrong for fear of being disliked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But as K neared college, I realized that her ability to cope in the adult world – in the world outside our home – was far more important than whether or not she liked me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I started telling her what to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told her to pick up after herself, to knock before she entered rooms, to close the cabinets she left open and yes – to park her car straight in the driveway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent a lot of time alone together, she and I, in the months leading up to her departure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And those months were fraught for her – full of anxiety and fear and depression and angst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We talked about more than just parking straight and separating whites from darks when doing laundry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said some tough things and had to hear some even tougher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in that time, I felt a shift in myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt as I stopped trying to win, stopped trying to be loved, stopped trying to be the coolest stepmom on the block. I felt as I stopped caring about me and started caring about her – what was best for her, what would serve her, what would help her cope in a world far less cozy than our home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">For the record, I have never yelled at either of my stepchildren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in this particular case, I’m quite certain I didn’t even raise my voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I did give a sharp directive. And K has never parked sideways in the driveway again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And THAT may be the major milestone of our year.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-10946008610161533752011-10-02T21:18:00.000-07:002011-10-02T21:18:51.264-07:00Take that, Bill Maher!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";">Pardon my absence from the blogosphere but I’m slightly superstitious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The world being what it was in the final weeks of summer – financial disaster in the US, riots in the UK, protests in the Israel and various domestic unrest in households near and far – it seemed best to keep my head down and forge quietly ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LBJ famously said, “Being President is like being a jackass in a hailstorm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s nothing to do but stand there and take it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friend’s father, a colleague of LBJ, had his own Texan take on the phrase and would say to his little girl, “Sweetheart, sometimes you have to be like a jackass in a hailstorm – put your down and wait for the storm to pass.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been waiting for the storms to pass and keep looking for blooming flowers amidst the burning ash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";">But the other night, I couldn’t find a flower anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was home watching Bill Maher and feeling useless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was Bill, all witty and fabulous, interviewing intelligent people who had written books or started life-changing organizations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His guests included a former governor, a civil rights activist and a world famous author.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there was me, sitting on the couch with a bowl of pasta after a week of work at a job where I save no lives, change no political policy, influence no major governments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Useless. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";">I spiraled then, and thought about all I hadn’t done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The world is on a scary path: economic disaster, failed education systems, escalating worldwide racism, sexism, anti-semitism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is spring during autumn all over the Middle East, the behemoth that is China is lumbering out of its deep sleep and toward epic change and our own country teeters on the edge of insanity steeped in dark crazy tea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m sitting on my couch doing nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";">I told myself I do nothing because I'm not smart enough, didn't major in the right thing, haven't focused my energy in the right places these past several decades. And for the most part that is true. I didn’t invent a computer chip that changed the world. I have not written a book on world politics. I am not clever enough to be invited as a guest on Bill Maher and hold my own. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The truth is my knowledge of world events is limited to what media I consume in the pre-dawn moments before my day jolts into full swing or the bits and pieces I catch after hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And while I’m not the least informed of my circle, I’m hardly the most. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";">But today I got jolted out of my useless blues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today I did the thing that still gives me joy, despite the fact that its part of my job and I do it time and time again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, I went to the movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems a trivial thing really – two hours in a dark box with a big screen shouldn’t really change your mood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And today it did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This thing we do – this magical, wonderful and terribly ethereal business of making movies – this world that can be so frustrating, can seem so ludicrous at times, can also be profoundly affecting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>True – its rare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And most movies are crap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve worked on as many bad movies as good ones (ok – more).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And truly great movies are a scarcity beyond comprehension.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when they do, when a movie can make you laugh and cry and feel and go on a ride that feels like fifteen minutes even if its been three hours – THAT is when being in the movie business feels like something substantial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";">I chose this job – this career in movies - in part because the idea of pursuing a PhD in political science seemed really exhausting 25 years ago. But in part I chose it because I love it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love that I interact with some of the most talented, most inspiring artists alive today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love that these artists work in a medium that has the potential to have a reach far greater than paint or ceramic or even words on a page.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I love that every experience with every artist is unique and a true education all its own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";">But mostly I love that today I went to a movie theater and for two magical hours got swept up in someone else’s life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I entered someone else’s story – I saw what the director wanted me to see and heard what the director wanted me to hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the experience was uniquely my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the moments I laughed, as well as for those I cried, I was in the soothing hands of a master filmmaker and I went down the path he created for me – though I’m sure I saw the path slightly differently from the man on my right or the woman on my left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the beauty of film.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the magic and strength and power of a well made movie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this is the world I have the great privilege to be part of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";">I am not a writer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not direct movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I do rely on a gut instinct to evaluate material and I do use that gut and a good bit of passion to push to make movies that make people laugh and cry and think and just get away for two magical hours in the special box we call the movie theater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They may not always work – in fact, mostly they don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great film is harmonic convergence. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when it works, when a movie is really firing on all cylinders - and you get that two hours of pure joy, of a story that makes you think about the world in a slightly different way - isn't that worth something?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Gothic";">I still wish I were clever enough and well-educated enough and worldly enough to have written a book, or run for office or created a policy that would make me fancy and cool and smart enough to be a guest on Bill Maher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m damn grateful for my two hours of bliss today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And damn lucky to do what I do.<o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-73910216518091721202011-08-26T23:43:00.000-07:002011-08-26T23:43:05.840-07:00At last...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3PdSKQH0QQh7gopKz7cSdzcyjGr1WQl1TmicqqF_0zMjX9hs_Ie3dUMvY2UBA8ss3xCxNQGTWtJ9ZhXcmx5iwIomgoEYQMVsBvA2rzrRac4rLWa_RXNuH7Bn0tHEqBuzE7DTYZLJLp4/s1600/DSC_0077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3PdSKQH0QQh7gopKz7cSdzcyjGr1WQl1TmicqqF_0zMjX9hs_Ie3dUMvY2UBA8ss3xCxNQGTWtJ9ZhXcmx5iwIomgoEYQMVsBvA2rzrRac4rLWa_RXNuH7Bn0tHEqBuzE7DTYZLJLp4/s320/DSC_0077.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The summer night we've been waiting for. Midnight. 80 degrees. Noisy cicadas chirp madly in the dry grasses just now warming in belated summer air. This is Child One's last Shabbat before leaving for school. Hurricane Irene may disrupt our perfectly planned journey. But weeks of planning and preparation will not stand in the way of Child One's future. There may be tears and hesitation and a bumpy road of fear ahead. And that's just for Sig Other and me. What awaits Child One, no one can anticipate. My friend Jess looked Child One in the eye the other night across a bottle of wine and a soggy pizza and said, "I want to Freaky Friday with you so bad I can't stand it." That about sums it up. Shabbat Shalom to all. And a special prayer to the hope for the future we send out into the world in the next week - we wish you well and hope for the best. <br />
<br />
Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-31258032856132663902011-08-14T23:20:00.000-07:002011-08-14T23:20:33.652-07:00Pink, pink sheets...<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">There are brand new pink sheets in the wash right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One set of jersey, one of flannel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twin extra long as required by dormitory standards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are, of course, Child One’s sheets for college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m washing them so they’ll be soft and smell of home when she puts them on her dorm room bed for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s no real need for me to wash them of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have two housekeepers who could easily do the task and are expecting to fluff and fold in preparation for the packing and upcoming departure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I want to wash her sheets – want to feel the warmth as I fold them and smell what she’ll smell on her first night’s sleep at school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She is not excited to sleep on her new sheets – not excited to dive into the brand new shiny future that awaits her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find it hard to relate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like most 18 year olds of my generation, I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough – couldn’t wait to grow up – couldn’t wait to get away, to be an adult, to “start life” – that’s how I thought of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could only dream of a fancy east coast school – could only dream of the world that eagerly awaits her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I never had to face the reality of what that meant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I would have been scared – maybe I would have hesitated to fly across the country and dive into a world completely foreign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll never know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It simply wasn’t an option.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it is not only an option for Child One.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is now her reality.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And Child One is nothing like me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She does not want to leave the house, doesn’t want to grow up, has no interest in getting as fast and as far away as possible. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its not that she isn’t excited about starting school – not that she isn’t looking forward to making new friends and tackling new academic challenges. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it certainly isn’t as if she lacks gratitude or awareness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wants to embrace what lies ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just that she’d like us all to come along and embrace it with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But of course we can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course she’ll have to take a deep breath and dive into the deep end on her own. And she’ll have pain and fear and anxiety as well as victory and great joy and success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Child One’s pre-college panic is not unlike Best Friend’s daughter N’s moment the other day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little N got an early lesson in charity as mother and daughter packed up binkies and a few infant toys and took them to a local hospital to share with children less fortunate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>N was cooperative and stoic during the packing and drop off but melted into a tortured tantrum later in the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was having a hard time letting go, having a hard time moving beyond this phase of her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, for her afternoon nap, her mother found an old binky in the back of a drawer – one that had escaped packing – and gave it to the hysterical child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She calmed right away and fell quickly to sleep.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Child One is having just such a moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child One would love nothing more than to keep all of her binkies – to hold on to this moment, to these friends, to this life of highschool relationships and dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She does not want to pack it all up and move on to the next phase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> S</span>he knows she must – knows that she will forget about her binkies and begin to embrace a new life soon enough.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But tonight she is digging in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And tonight I wash her sheets to make sure they smell like home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll stay up just a little late to fold them and pack them away so I know she has what she needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And maybe she’ll unpack them, two weeks and three thousand miles from here, and know that a little bit of home has followed her east and will always be with her wherever she goes.</div><!--EndFragment--> Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-3806056566488649582011-07-05T22:27:00.000-07:002011-07-05T22:27:40.279-07:00The 168th Post in which Child One ACTUALLY turns 18 and Sig Other is inconsolable...<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Raucous Bollywood celebrations aside, Child One’s actual birthday is today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And notwithstanding her deeply held belief that the 4<sup>th</sup> of July is a national holiday held in anticipation of her date of birth, this is the day, eighteen years ago when the little rosy cheeked, tow-headed girl entered the world. I wasn’t there that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t come into her life for many years after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel weirdly guilty about that - an irrational guilt to be sure. But I take joy in her 18<sup>th</sup> birthday nonetheless.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sig Other, however, is inconsolable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He moves from stoic lamentation to breast-beating sorrow with hummingbird-wing rapidity and desires only to stay at home and mope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No celebration is appropriate, no declaration great enough, no gift big enough to express his feelings about his first born coming of age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To watch him suffer, one would assume there was something terribly, terribly wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In fact, there is nothing terribly wrong at all. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child One has done exactly as asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has grown up quite beautifully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has, with the greatest of both hesitation and grace, transformed from scared little girl to forthcoming young woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you asked her, four years ago, about future plans, she would not have known how to answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could not imagine leaving home, couldn’t imagine going to school out of town much less across the country and would never have thought of traveling the world on her own in search of adventure, education and justice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sig Other used to sit at the dinner table and repeat over and over again that it was her great fortune, not to mention her responsibility and obligation, to take advantage of the opportunity in front of her – to grasp at what had eluded us and strive for the possibility of better education, greater horizons, deeper experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears would stream down her face as he would look deep in her eyes and say, “you will graduate and leave us – you will go to a great school on the east coast and get an amazing education and meet interesting people and form deep relationships that will stay with you for the rest of your life.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And she would say no – she would never leave home, would never go far away, would never want to be a grown up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet here she is, 18 years old, about to leave for a summer volunteering at a school in Israel before starting her future at a fancy east coast school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has become all Sig Other ever hoped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And all he can do is lament.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“This is what you raised her for,” I say to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is what you insisted she do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ve done an amazing job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is fulfilling every dream you had for her.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know,” he says, “but I didn’t really mean it. I didn’t really want her to leave.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He says this as we drive home from her birthday dinner and I imagine the evening before us – Sig Other sitting on the floor going through albums of baby pictures and listening to a mix-tape of Rafi and Paul Simon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He doesn’t do this, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tucks his pain away and rather stoically goes to his office to fiddle with a faulty computer program.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I know he is suffering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know he is in pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel guilty that we can’t sit on the floor with a bottle of wine and reminisce about her colicky infancy and adorable toddlerhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t there for those moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I missed her first words and first steps and first taste of delicious rice cereal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been there for my share of tears and vomiting and runny noses and pain – been there enough for lots of anxiety and some pain, a few hurt feelings and a few misunderstandings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And of course for lots of cuddling and laughs and more joy than I could ever have imagined before she or Child Two or Sig Other entered my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But now I must go and console Sig Other and pet his head as he mourns the loss of his job well done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-57992324161319414682011-07-04T07:53:00.000-07:002011-07-04T07:53:23.128-07:00The 167th Post in which Child One turns 18.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMEDHkpThOTu5nzvkDAVOsr_JW3mp0Z6i3S3WWQU1pJzWQA-8HmPsN9jW81YG86I99ZvCCtwR9Gg6biBXTzdflKdCudRy0eUONaabUPNZPDfY2OnH8gixsHW9ramTbHUCj0JKadPser4/s1600/bollywood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMEDHkpThOTu5nzvkDAVOsr_JW3mp0Z6i3S3WWQU1pJzWQA-8HmPsN9jW81YG86I99ZvCCtwR9Gg6biBXTzdflKdCudRy0eUONaabUPNZPDfY2OnH8gixsHW9ramTbHUCj0JKadPser4/s320/bollywood.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Saturday night was Child One’s 18<sup>th</sup> birthday party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wanted something smallish – she and her best friend celebrating together – about twenty people for a nice dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She picked a theme – Indian – and she and her friends bought glamorous outfits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did their makeup and filled the house with incense and geraniums and richly colored Indian linens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The henna tattoo artist arrived, the kids all put on their bindis and milled about to Sig Other’s rather raucous Bollywood soundtrack mix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sig Other and the other parents and I hovered as long as we could – soaking up as much gorgeous, hilarious, hormonally charged teenage time as possible before making what we had promised would be a brief exit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child One had never really invited us, you see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You can stay” is what she said when asked if were to be part of the festivities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not exactly a cozy invitation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we were never included on the Facebook Event Page, which apparently has replaced paper or even email as the Emily Post of social event planning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we made our own dinner plans – adult dinner plans – and knew that we’d be nearby and gone very briefly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Child One and company were having a perfectly lovely time when we left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The table was piled with food and Diet Pepsi and laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An hour and a half later we returned to empty bottles of rock-gut vodka and beer strewn around the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An anonymous Italian girl showed up in a cab with three leggy friends and proceeded to vomit in our bathroom while an eager teen boy waited nearby desperate to take advantage of her and another boy took her pulse, spinning his own fantasy of an emergency room drop-off. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Couples made out in dark corners, others just sat around talking about their future – one was leaving the next day for Europe and then college, they’d said goodbye already to another the day before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The night was warm and smelled of spilled beer and cigarettes, smoke from a hookah (which had magically appeared in our absence) hung heavy over conversation about anticipation, fear and excitement of change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some were drinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some were not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as I walked the party with my basket they were brutally honest about who had done what and how much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a pretty mild crew (notwithstanding the anonymous Italian girl) and I was impressed by how forthcoming and easy they were about handing over their keys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And yes, I took their keys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am the evil shrew collecting keys of potentially drunk teenagers and hiding them in a basket underneath my bathroom sink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told them I would breathalyze them on their way out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lied, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have a Breathalyzer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But fear still drives the teenage brain and so keys were collected and slowly doled out (or not) as the night went on. Most slept on couches or blow up mattresses or corners of the floor strewn with blankets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One was up before us, waiting at the counter when we rose for a cup of coffee and to share his particular account of the events of the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rest made do with juice and toast and whatever was in the house as Sig Other and I fled quickly to avoid the flutter of inevitably hung over and sleep deprived teens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time we returned most were gone and Child One had the good sense to clean up empty bottles and whatever detritus remained from the night before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">But I was left wondering about how Sig Other and I deal with the issue of underage drinking vs. the way other parents do or vs. my own childhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my teenage years, we would never have partied in a house with adults present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d wait for any parent to leave town and invade like marauding booze bandits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thought nothing of raiding the liquor cabinet once we’d run out of whatever screw top wine or malt liquor we could buy with fake IDs flimsy as tissue paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then we’d get in our cars – drunk as skunks and risk the drive rather than risk the wrath of a parent who knew the truth. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was in the early 80s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meatballs was one of my favorite movies. There was one song – the theme song of the movie – that went like this: “We are the CITs so pity us, the kids are brats the food is hideous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re gonna smoke and drink and fool around (we’re nookie bound), we’re Northstar CITs!.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For some reason this song popped into my head as I thought about Child One’s 18<sup>th</sup> Bollywood Birthday Blowout.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There we were, at home with Child One and friends – and there they were smoking and drinking and fooling around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if they weren’t’ smoking and drinking and fooling around at our house, they’d be smoking and drinking and fooling around elsewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So better here, in the relative safety of our home, I suppose, than out in the world and on the streets. </div><!--EndFragment--> </div>Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-10980327712623888882011-06-20T22:15:00.000-07:002011-06-20T22:15:03.058-07:00Happy Birthday to ME!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil6xpDyPrwvUpByeLAC4ERwH4FjFIfW6Di9Xp20DGW0aPBtxULq0axchQrYNfyuoAqUaSSdRYIfzsqq1k9VGDT2E6oDi7itkl_d4D0DTnVIU0CQ0fiK9OrO7ZXtFpEOhTYg9ef7oxJDVo/s1600/My+HipstaPrint+0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil6xpDyPrwvUpByeLAC4ERwH4FjFIfW6Di9Xp20DGW0aPBtxULq0axchQrYNfyuoAqUaSSdRYIfzsqq1k9VGDT2E6oDi7itkl_d4D0DTnVIU0CQ0fiK9OrO7ZXtFpEOhTYg9ef7oxJDVo/s320/My+HipstaPrint+0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEictItesRaF1dARCs5UBV62xU5TDYOtiVmk81HkxXsMYgRuchHIdSz4pcB22AhJF_YbQkWgJECaO5BRBR_ZzSxGwhGlgkou7Ch4YHyg9I9vofcJioh7ICY9run34ktEjcVlvS4wzeolIDU/s1600/lomop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEictItesRaF1dARCs5UBV62xU5TDYOtiVmk81HkxXsMYgRuchHIdSz4pcB22AhJF_YbQkWgJECaO5BRBR_ZzSxGwhGlgkou7Ch4YHyg9I9vofcJioh7ICY9run34ktEjcVlvS4wzeolIDU/s320/lomop.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I love my birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, it’s my favorite day of the year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can make my birthday last a week, sometimes even a month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve planned lavish parties and weekends away, been feted by Sig Other with surprise parties and outrageous gifts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this year I made no plans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year I decided to lay low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year belonged to Child One’s graduation from high school, and 18<sup>th</sup> birthday and departure for college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It belongs to Child Two as he prepares for his Bar Mitzvah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It belongs to the backyard remodel and to a busy work schedule.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It does not belong, I decided, to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I planned nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it turns out that even with no plans, even with no fancy invitation, no perfect plan, no elaborate announcement, my birthday was as good a day as any I could have imagined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Beta Dog woke me with plaintive love and urgent snuggling, Alpha Dog, as always, woke up needing to go to the vet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sig Other wowed me with the perfect gift, and the day continued with flowers to make a funeral home jealous, cakes and gifts and lovely phone calls. I got emails with hilarious poems and facebook posts from around the globe, a delicious dinner, far too much wine and sweet gifts from the children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was, all told, a perfect day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And now it’s here – the 45<sup>th</sup> Year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m halfway to ninety and still have yet to find a better name for this blog. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no fear of growing older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No hesitation to share my true age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No phobia related to the forward march of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I quite like it actually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I revel in my older lady status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like being the wise old sage, the broad, the ol’ lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Notwithstanding posts about saggy arms and wrinkled skin, I have no complaints about the passage of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks to all who made the transition to my next forty-five years a smooth one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Happy Birthday to me.</div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-22931254403884891982011-06-10T07:12:00.000-07:002011-06-10T07:12:49.386-07:00We interrupt this roadtrip...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiru6qQTbek10uCoMntdTCChAxjO35DLghbbte_7aEZAYd0xs-kaFHbwmWAP8pB_Oj6Abojgcb1OKGuNJIVNCgW5jh1GKxatb9E2RROmpybUehUDJ4U3ZyK3iSKNpMDhGPiObfrw2LkdTc/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiru6qQTbek10uCoMntdTCChAxjO35DLghbbte_7aEZAYd0xs-kaFHbwmWAP8pB_Oj6Abojgcb1OKGuNJIVNCgW5jh1GKxatb9E2RROmpybUehUDJ4U3ZyK3iSKNpMDhGPiObfrw2LkdTc/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">To bring you graduation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Child One, clinging desperately to her childhood, donned cap and gown and, in spite of tears and protestations, walked elegantly toward adulthood last night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ex-Wife and Sig Other’s work of almost eighteen years, mine of almost nine, culminated with more of a whimper than a bang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ceremony was sweet and heartfelt, too long and too short all at once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chubby little bouncy girl is now an elegant giraffe in diamonds and heels – all legs and smiles and tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve done what we can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She goes into the world a bright, educated, inquisitive human with purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is the future – a future focused on justice and ethical behavior and kindness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The world is unquestionably a better place for having her in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And yet I’m sure I’ve failed dramatically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure she does not have the right tools to fend for herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure that with all of the private school education and intellectual athleticism, things very basic and banal have been washed over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I sat at graduation, pretending to listen to someone else’s child speak, and made a mental list of all the things I will review with her this summer: how to do laundry, the proper way to make a bed, the best tips for college grocery shopping and what to keep in the little dorm fridge, how much aspirin and vitamin B to take to avoid a hangover (though its unlikely this will be her issue).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I make this list and know she knows all of these things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I do it anyway as it soothes me and makes me feel somehow useful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tomorrow we’ll wake at the crack of dawn to get back on the road for the last day of the ALC ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But today we are parents of a high school graduate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Proud and a little melancholy.</div><!--EndFragment--> <br />
<!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-38129070541175569122011-06-09T08:51:00.000-07:002011-06-09T08:51:27.810-07:00Road from Paso Robles to Santa Maria. Day Four.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcVv79hmIL8Og8uNXpkWPovJFBzh55JEgHyfu8pyA728ztfouoGGT5sKQ2mdMAyTAP_iO7NaHJXIBXc4OXScX1PCdUGLmpVIk7LTYLXGxBTAwnPXmrVb9sK84j3OIaJaW30k9fmBhVWOs/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcVv79hmIL8Og8uNXpkWPovJFBzh55JEgHyfu8pyA728ztfouoGGT5sKQ2mdMAyTAP_iO7NaHJXIBXc4OXScX1PCdUGLmpVIk7LTYLXGxBTAwnPXmrVb9sK84j3OIaJaW30k9fmBhVWOs/s320/photo.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pismo Beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhosVw_bhMUUwuIHOpXluUWqNBfi5QPs8o4k6az8YD16oVyBDzgyTLRtNXPtsDZg_FgK1QyLhU9EU-BdPtv0ScY6CeiUrE922aQYs9ASRpMTW4950VQlfmMBo4Tk1GmXdWnWYG_ZgjrweM/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhosVw_bhMUUwuIHOpXluUWqNBfi5QPs8o4k6az8YD16oVyBDzgyTLRtNXPtsDZg_FgK1QyLhU9EU-BdPtv0ScY6CeiUrE922aQYs9ASRpMTW4950VQlfmMBo4Tk1GmXdWnWYG_ZgjrweM/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off the beaten path - Guadalupe, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9B9Qsa6u32mXGl_cRlxjdOu0uGDpG375yPLl5qU_mfkT6gKDCITgzrNxbhfV0VW-LtDsFg3k_MYR8CO6XM0UXMwcf_TyloVWFJoZLbUz7Q8Xyp2tqptGFFV1jL88xYNch3NRQfpp4L4/s1600/DSC_0162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9B9Qsa6u32mXGl_cRlxjdOu0uGDpG375yPLl5qU_mfkT6gKDCITgzrNxbhfV0VW-LtDsFg3k_MYR8CO6XM0UXMwcf_TyloVWFJoZLbUz7Q8Xyp2tqptGFFV1jL88xYNch3NRQfpp4L4/s320/DSC_0162.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0k2AU-mYHOawaeN3CQDDYNe8MedtxLtTDCWzqy1wa5Eb4NSH5pBQRX1lSM50isjNrN5gMicE73lglY9-csniH569CGHMFlBt4wcaOFHjPNq2pJazDvDUuaZ0bHnVn6euV5YFe4l09LTE/s1600/DSC_0163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0k2AU-mYHOawaeN3CQDDYNe8MedtxLtTDCWzqy1wa5Eb4NSH5pBQRX1lSM50isjNrN5gMicE73lglY9-csniH569CGHMFlBt4wcaOFHjPNq2pJazDvDUuaZ0bHnVn6euV5YFe4l09LTE/s320/DSC_0163.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Las Alamos, CA - south of Santa Maria</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KbmAXUSWeqytGJ1MWzItGNQFtefdyl_SdFgkXqPXI7lcs0KrML9DmxW_uWeDxEhiSPtvXFansIqd7LJdR5eC0PMJVsDyZ25JIOlAjWmPANukdnDT36qbgxRu7RKBvWdEQaLEIPisxKg/s1600/DSC_0165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KbmAXUSWeqytGJ1MWzItGNQFtefdyl_SdFgkXqPXI7lcs0KrML9DmxW_uWeDxEhiSPtvXFansIqd7LJdR5eC0PMJVsDyZ25JIOlAjWmPANukdnDT36qbgxRu7RKBvWdEQaLEIPisxKg/s320/DSC_0165.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildflowers in Los Alamos</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-33719163415557899982011-06-08T08:30:00.000-07:002011-06-08T08:30:01.141-07:00I left my heart...<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">In King City?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Really?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oddly, since peeling out early yesterday morning, I’ve been thinking about King City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One street, peuce hotel room, dusty little King City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At 6:35am I kissed it goodbye in my rearview mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Couldn’t get out of there fast enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But somehow, I can’t stop thinking about it – can’t stop thinking about how I mastered the town in three hours – how delicious the food was at the Guadalajara restaurant on the main drag – how perfect the smell of freshly popped popcorn in the tiny movie theater across the street – how singularly disgusting the restaurant/curio shop was next to the hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Weirdly, I sort of fell in love with the place in less than 24 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sig Other and I talked about this briefly – why it is that such a place should harbor such fondness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why I will drive back to Bradley, CA (population 120) to take photographs later today before heading out for the next stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, we mused, it’s because places like Bradley and King City pretend to be nothing other than what they are – small, a little depressed, a little proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>King City is authentic to its true self.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that is what I liked about it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I feel the same about big cities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve always been comfortable and happy in big cities – particularly a prideful, boasting, self-adoring city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I adore London (which is advantageous as am there every other month or so).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my love affair with Manhattan – loud, crazy, dirty, beautiful, bustling Manhattan - may never end, in spite of an acute awareness that the movie business fell out of love long ago and made its way west, abandoning the apple to Wall Street and its sycophantic cousins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was, however, born with an aversion to suburbs – indecisive sprawls putting on airs of the big city but grasping for small town quaintness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is truly a case of nature vs nurture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was born in a suburb, raised in suburbs, had nothing horrific happen to me in suburbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My siblings don’t share my aversion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor does my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I loathe them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loathe the middle-ness of it all, hovering someplace between the bustle and crackling energy of any big city and the quiet melody of true small town life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And yet I live – have lived for almost 25 years – in the greatest sprawl in the country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never been in love with Los Angeles – not like Sig Other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sig Other LOVES Los Angeles – it is his home, his passion, his city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I live there because I must.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My work is there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My home is there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have found great things about my city – great food and culture and tucked away corners, great friends and hidden treasures and ways to get around traffic when I truly must. But deep down, if I could live anywhere, if Sig Other would pick up and leave with me, I wouldn’t choose LA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wouldn’t choose to live smack in the middle of indecisive sprawl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d choose the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d choose the country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d choose a place that sings in bold colors and proudly wears its identity whether great or small. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And so I come back to thinking about King City as I head out on Day Four of the ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m in a sort of suburb now – a city grasping to hang on to its small town roots but losing the battle to housing developments and shopping malls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’ll make my way to the next town – one caught between two worlds as this one is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I think I’ll take the back roads – think I’ll cling to the rural routes and keep the illusion a little longer that I’m on a road trip to a thousand King Cities and Bradleys and such…</div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-25390673597558099652011-06-08T06:21:00.000-07:002011-06-08T06:21:24.921-07:00Oh Mary!<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">5:02am on Day Four.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sig Other is a bit sore and achy in anticipation of yet another century – the ride from Paso Robles to Santa Maria has two long, sloggy hills at the very beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He layers well - the sun is well hidden behind a bank of coastal sludge and will likely remain so. He prepares for the day and I hear him mutter under his breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lean in to hear him, worried that perhaps he’s getting run down from the ride or is in pain and not admitting it – worried I’ll hear about an aching back or pulled muscle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what I hear is this: “that bitch better leave me a lone today.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know what “bitch” he means. He means the rider who thinks his friend Mark is his lover and feels that Mark somehow dissed him. I know this because yesterday, when I met Sig Other on the road for lunch, I overheard the following: </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That queen is after you, my friend.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is way into my shit.” “Oh yeah, girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know she is.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If she comes after me…”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Its true that Sig Other has always had a gift for acclimating – you can take him anywhere – cocktail party, football game, museum or campground and whether he is actually comfortable or not, he will find a way to speak the vernacular, to fit right in, to become the hit of the party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I’m not SURPRISED really that he’s found both friends and enemies on the ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s a little weird to hear your 6’4” tough Israeli husband refer to another man as “her” or “that bitch” or “Mary.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> It's a little weird to hear other men refer to your husband as "girl" and watch them flirt with him. It's a little weird to hear them offer to loan him an outfit for red tutu day tomorrow. Or maybe it's not. M</span>aybe it’s just another day on the road…</div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-71001193389643008882011-06-08T05:56:00.000-07:002011-06-08T05:56:17.191-07:00Day Three - King City to Paso Robles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The day began at 4:30am in great haste to depart King City for greener pastures. Long day meant late posts so apologies for posting images from Day Three on Day Four... More to come.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibztobyTXDPpR9Ci7aF5gEyh3uv1Rv-tHVySX7XC2uQsIvk2IHWQHaLTZ2WT9BK_UskHWoth40-A6p1RKCUYh0TdNuLNsPNRe_ftRuFyxH_IZDQgLSUcE1-PILBMDpDz5PAL6g8P0fUiA/s1600/DSC_0101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibztobyTXDPpR9Ci7aF5gEyh3uv1Rv-tHVySX7XC2uQsIvk2IHWQHaLTZ2WT9BK_UskHWoth40-A6p1RKCUYh0TdNuLNsPNRe_ftRuFyxH_IZDQgLSUcE1-PILBMDpDz5PAL6g8P0fUiA/s320/DSC_0101.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">State park in King City - just before rideout. 6:15am</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgthNeDdPYzksxwOuLj2rIrn76H9PvDi9vYQZhCtA7apiVwa2dCgnmYeZMX_UUVl68taRGJ6sgGSLiDJG7_0gCQXH23wkG4QEU2EUiSX9zhXe7XkToXrXN_ElPUFV7jOOppCBsLy8hWMc4/s1600/DSC_0116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgthNeDdPYzksxwOuLj2rIrn76H9PvDi9vYQZhCtA7apiVwa2dCgnmYeZMX_UUVl68taRGJ6sgGSLiDJG7_0gCQXH23wkG4QEU2EUiSX9zhXe7XkToXrXN_ElPUFV7jOOppCBsLy8hWMc4/s320/DSC_0116.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch on the road. BBQ in Bradley, CA. Population 120.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCd9UK_83Yfp_iVmKe0DnstjdYLTrJztcTubj_zxixwnw70NHFZQTdfpkS_nFFWs_pB1k-WPaTZzw-Ji3gG2pfvrC0J5uwvbmbfk3S_Q15S1iMX3HEwLXm922WbqA77Mtq3LmgMU5qPw/s1600/DSC_0143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCd9UK_83Yfp_iVmKe0DnstjdYLTrJztcTubj_zxixwnw70NHFZQTdfpkS_nFFWs_pB1k-WPaTZzw-Ji3gG2pfvrC0J5uwvbmbfk3S_Q15S1iMX3HEwLXm922WbqA77Mtq3LmgMU5qPw/s320/DSC_0143.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road between Bradley and Paso Robles<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CJF2pDsdzpCpM2-0FglR-th8p4PuxUt5NF_B-IvbKsloAdh3Zy00vuJumcPvpEpxHe7bzXOJR805iDVvh8hwKIGKZ7aF4C2aoUsQQD0gRxgUcRWWHOo-tqvL6versjrw41HaWSMGdhc/s1600/DSC_0138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CJF2pDsdzpCpM2-0FglR-th8p4PuxUt5NF_B-IvbKsloAdh3Zy00vuJumcPvpEpxHe7bzXOJR805iDVvh8hwKIGKZ7aF4C2aoUsQQD0gRxgUcRWWHOo-tqvL6versjrw41HaWSMGdhc/s320/DSC_0138.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paso farm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEymbcHmRlpARga0rgiburQny3hnDQAQfRmdhrxIAuAxdcRQ5CtkMvPrZZuH7Eh5wV02s8JCtmUOFeJ3v3g-ioO5GDEAP74S8LR68AYMKUh4NrLxcZ5-falqPLmqJWhquTQ9c9FetLdc/s1600/DSC_0160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEymbcHmRlpARga0rgiburQny3hnDQAQfRmdhrxIAuAxdcRQ5CtkMvPrZZuH7Eh5wV02s8JCtmUOFeJ3v3g-ioO5GDEAP74S8LR68AYMKUh4NrLxcZ5-falqPLmqJWhquTQ9c9FetLdc/s320/DSC_0160.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post ride visit to the beach.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfP5bQGymQetePID4UiuQ-szhs0PuoMuFhJvdwFhyphenhyphenv6iCvd7S0ZDVhM4ciZTx4f1s9j__hU7fd43PdlGvcpY7f40hwRimugC2tduRpWDn2l9Mw6suJuC-JWqp4FmQXnTmlEBtctxxXRQ/s1600/DSC_0158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfP5bQGymQetePID4UiuQ-szhs0PuoMuFhJvdwFhyphenhyphenv6iCvd7S0ZDVhM4ciZTx4f1s9j__hU7fd43PdlGvcpY7f40hwRimugC2tduRpWDn2l9Mw6suJuC-JWqp4FmQXnTmlEBtctxxXRQ/s320/DSC_0158.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seagulls at San Simeon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-46418311085730421242011-06-06T15:52:00.000-07:002011-06-06T15:52:48.748-07:00The Princess Plan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><!--StartFragment--> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">AIDS Lifecycle riders fall into two basic categories: those who are on the regular program who check their bikes, eat meals with the group and sleep in camp in tents like this:</div><!--EndFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0nvkFrBQ-M3NtPsTytB1Qy0ahTwz9EVMHIAjNC2j_KAKlXaDXUmuFTHOZqnmIORk5SfljCLjKpEqF_MHfyW9rH5qn_pF4dyf57dBoCU8CsFVUFx8_l4ol88kjgnu539oXnFLe-5rgUg/s1600/DSC_0061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0nvkFrBQ-M3NtPsTytB1Qy0ahTwz9EVMHIAjNC2j_KAKlXaDXUmuFTHOZqnmIORk5SfljCLjKpEqF_MHfyW9rH5qn_pF4dyf57dBoCU8CsFVUFx8_l4ol88kjgnu539oXnFLe-5rgUg/s320/DSC_0061.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArU_1W4-i3NLg5dLfDSoF1AMZ_W-mbkMGq7qqF3-n2ObqpcDVTsr366gJd0poBKslUJpOxVuqqmTeIDhOO2hoFGPLgNcS5u-qiqNb2Uq3zdQBbBT8yrbNdWYy8qXJU5yPMm8bB2aixek/s1600/DSC_0056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArU_1W4-i3NLg5dLfDSoF1AMZ_W-mbkMGq7qqF3-n2ObqpcDVTsr366gJd0poBKslUJpOxVuqqmTeIDhOO2hoFGPLgNcS5u-qiqNb2Uq3zdQBbBT8yrbNdWYy8qXJU5yPMm8bB2aixek/s320/DSC_0056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUK3CDhtdmCJOHm_kLCcLYULC-QtyOVPW2jm0eN8NnpC0-PllOWMhYQCv_TmMO8F-nLSy1RbMkmprm2CpAxc81JFw3ENSp2PTTvY0RQgvw8-IyVfhwthAwx73Uy_zN2Jl-BiDKJQBBug/s1600/DSC_0065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUK3CDhtdmCJOHm_kLCcLYULC-QtyOVPW2jm0eN8NnpC0-PllOWMhYQCv_TmMO8F-nLSy1RbMkmprm2CpAxc81JFw3ENSp2PTTvY0RQgvw8-IyVfhwthAwx73Uy_zN2Jl-BiDKJQBBug/s320/DSC_0065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Tents sleep two people each – tent mates are assigned at check-in unless you’re traveling as a couple or with a friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You pack your own gear, are responsible for set up each day after the ride and break down each morning before ride out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shower facilities are portable trucks that travel from camp to camp.<br />
<br />
<!--StartFragment--> <div class="MsoNormal">And then there's the Princess Plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Princess Plan allows riders who are a little more, um, persnickety, to stay in the hotel of their choice along the route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously at additional cost and slight additional hassle as the P-Plan requires someone willing to pick you up from camp, take you to your hotel, drive you back in the morning, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In some cases, riders use taxis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In some, they have friends in each town who are thrilled to see them and support their efforts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in Sig Other’s case, there’s me - his personal soigner.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Princess Plan started perfect enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No complaints from rider OR soigner about the bed at the Four Seasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Santa Cruz proved equally pleasant though in a sort of funky beach motel sort of way:</div><!--EndFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oAzA721d8R-L4XPa-xol3m9Yl4ttGL2UNcRllKhyGnVgQTW2LoM8m_CWFmPV_NLSBp4yLwnHfTNDZQD4BuK8r1ZKpWyNDwIUb9klVFOxqnGj2W0J2jdbmzROnbGr4AvGXq5u8k1ihD4/s1600/santa-cruz-dream-inn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oAzA721d8R-L4XPa-xol3m9Yl4ttGL2UNcRllKhyGnVgQTW2LoM8m_CWFmPV_NLSBp4yLwnHfTNDZQD4BuK8r1ZKpWyNDwIUb9klVFOxqnGj2W0J2jdbmzROnbGr4AvGXq5u8k1ihD4/s320/santa-cruz-dream-inn.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><!--StartFragment--> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><br />
<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">And then came King City.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is the stop I’d been dreading all ride – the stop I knew would be challenging both in terms of accommodations and cuisine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was prepared for Deliverance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But somehow, even the anticipation of a dingy fleabag motel could not prepare me for the smell – the smell of disinfectant on musty carpet and lit up by fluorescence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no smell like the smell of a cheap motel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No color like the green of a shiny cotton bedspread under buzzing ceiling lights that turn on and off with motion detector timers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And no sound like the sound of a room facing the highway with only a gas station between to cut the hum of cars speeding by, headed for destinations better than this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Somehow, the Princess Plan landed me in the middle of a Sam Shepard play – sort of sweaty and dirty and not at all sexy though I do have a craving for long pull off a frosty bottle of beer and a sudden urge to suck mightily on a cigarette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps Sig Other can skip the showers and throw on a wife-beater and a pair of torn Levis to complete the picture.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Welcome to King City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Welcome to the Princess Plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I would give to be in camp, cozy in a sleeping bag, sharing a tent with a snoring stranger…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-10250849507688644262011-06-06T15:29:00.000-07:002011-06-06T15:55:24.209-07:00Day Two Continued - Salinas to King City<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZZzySVLL155hVfafW9_OxVxYMHQxLrhPbkrS0fzxsc2_Rj0xNXd1txP8hyODQehceEn3kKr9OVYCFXUXhchyphenhyphenfC7TUmiOx_k7uKUw1xCyWO3Fww7jIm_8iTj4wk5KzxBKeumu1TuN9ms/s1600/DSC_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZZzySVLL155hVfafW9_OxVxYMHQxLrhPbkrS0fzxsc2_Rj0xNXd1txP8hyODQehceEn3kKr9OVYCFXUXhchyphenhyphenfC7TUmiOx_k7uKUw1xCyWO3Fww7jIm_8iTj4wk5KzxBKeumu1TuN9ms/s320/DSC_0088.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Farm outside of Salinas</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5c-SI2sFMbkRdyZwD4k-1IsyDk6_nxGesNv_4rtVBUThakyV0WriPNnD7-S0O4qIUA8kDwfc2HDIL382uDKal3fULoJTrQV3mCT9axqLJiZIY831BbjtG4dzltmbqaFuYSCz3be4Q8Y4/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5c-SI2sFMbkRdyZwD4k-1IsyDk6_nxGesNv_4rtVBUThakyV0WriPNnD7-S0O4qIUA8kDwfc2HDIL382uDKal3fULoJTrQV3mCT9axqLJiZIY831BbjtG4dzltmbqaFuYSCz3be4Q8Y4/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road to King City - slightly off the beaten path</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWO2xDYcH0lsSZZQZC2KSC3g4CCBHqHpCAzyqIhsY9TVf4hj7OMd3jrOl6IR5ANslM28MEc5ymxMWIEVYbVLfwEX0t1tH-IGrIzOfzvmIlOis11A2DyVXjbjL-Z5UFcHqicG9Z6iZFatg/s1600/DSC_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWO2xDYcH0lsSZZQZC2KSC3g4CCBHqHpCAzyqIhsY9TVf4hj7OMd3jrOl6IR5ANslM28MEc5ymxMWIEVYbVLfwEX0t1tH-IGrIzOfzvmIlOis11A2DyVXjbjL-Z5UFcHqicG9Z6iZFatg/s320/DSC_0093.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tonight's entertainment</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-8322233075891683932011-06-06T08:24:00.000-07:002011-06-06T08:24:47.059-07:00Day Two - Santa Cruz to King City<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rZQI20JGCp6NYaqQSFby0slN3Z0rhrwFQZd6DAMOKJG7g_XQnql4lSJH5M8S_eAdS6Ro16UMTS0aFCYfC3egf6ZJd9QVKqvg0NSmL17SHWf1mmLAo8qM13Vejss4kdcd060rficfNZw/s1600/DSC_0059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rZQI20JGCp6NYaqQSFby0slN3Z0rhrwFQZd6DAMOKJG7g_XQnql4lSJH5M8S_eAdS6Ro16UMTS0aFCYfC3egf6ZJd9QVKqvg0NSmL17SHWf1mmLAo8qM13Vejss4kdcd060rficfNZw/s320/DSC_0059.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa Cruz Pier at dawn.<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmh4tSAQ4YORgCcBfUcUcFUL1e9OMZR7rnKhzN9IQ189ZpgJRVgY4N0x-xssKfE5uJZ-Wxjj7BpeQe4qVScLeIlvduXnhn7CEelNy3u-v0OZiy_yu0oUYLrcLcmEKxqENr9-7XRGcQPQ/s1600/DSC_0080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmh4tSAQ4YORgCcBfUcUcFUL1e9OMZR7rnKhzN9IQ189ZpgJRVgY4N0x-xssKfE5uJZ-Wxjj7BpeQe4qVScLeIlvduXnhn7CEelNy3u-v0OZiy_yu0oUYLrcLcmEKxqENr9-7XRGcQPQ/s320/DSC_0080.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa Cruz coastline<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEYG4c8JfZadt3ReNnhoWgULlPdBg4Ye4m36geI0Sf_aZkm7FBJGyMI6Db9ovdGsk86rHQPr-VMz1Uyf-XZfb0JdpsFK28l1vijHgSQHa-3sF5sU7h6Wy-WYq44Yf4_wuGT3EGTSDQ5Zw/s1600/DSC_0079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEYG4c8JfZadt3ReNnhoWgULlPdBg4Ye4m36geI0Sf_aZkm7FBJGyMI6Db9ovdGsk86rHQPr-VMz1Uyf-XZfb0JdpsFK28l1vijHgSQHa-3sF5sU7h6Wy-WYq44Yf4_wuGT3EGTSDQ5Zw/s320/DSC_0079.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa Cruz - Natural Bridges State Beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirdsqp1JS2SwLiXRQ2PMMRDEcyAHo0hMZh45japZ0I4-42LxX0ig4Fhai1xfMBYGmHiTTziU4IZJBHw86MOJ4nXZClsvEAHQQrd9W9d_KqnCS8kvXhxiec3aiGwNjLtVu9UZwRmX0uwvc/s1600/DSC_0061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirdsqp1JS2SwLiXRQ2PMMRDEcyAHo0hMZh45japZ0I4-42LxX0ig4Fhai1xfMBYGmHiTTziU4IZJBHw86MOJ4nXZClsvEAHQQrd9W9d_KqnCS8kvXhxiec3aiGwNjLtVu9UZwRmX0uwvc/s320/DSC_0061.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6:23am - Camp before rideout</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-26277649066053112982011-06-05T15:39:00.000-07:002011-06-05T15:39:42.620-07:00Day One - San Francisco to Santa Cruz<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlw_Q0e26EgnxC4KE5cUC1RyzV851KSywnCWd4z7PFwtNsBSw5nUjq4yBamY8GtoFJ-MUcHbw5-UT7f1tneLTshTkidIe7yMdlq-1oXzyCoLv59qo1PjdgxKR0I70p2M5_UrsnYwf10s8/s1600/DSC_0049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlw_Q0e26EgnxC4KE5cUC1RyzV851KSywnCWd4z7PFwtNsBSw5nUjq4yBamY8GtoFJ-MUcHbw5-UT7f1tneLTshTkidIe7yMdlq-1oXzyCoLv59qo1PjdgxKR0I70p2M5_UrsnYwf10s8/s320/DSC_0049.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boardwalk - Santa Cruz</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_vxB7uz437hr2ZIFUaPm_JdmNxErE9qAgrRG-R-DGYi1KrcquVD6sanOlafAZQju49wX5CflmYdKaE6BL84dT9AwvpS1DbvOdkQ92Ld-YxWMIZzsxEK9-XdwyZW-DcyMKjbx4A4v7BiA/s1600/DSC_0052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_vxB7uz437hr2ZIFUaPm_JdmNxErE9qAgrRG-R-DGYi1KrcquVD6sanOlafAZQju49wX5CflmYdKaE6BL84dT9AwvpS1DbvOdkQ92Ld-YxWMIZzsxEK9-XdwyZW-DcyMKjbx4A4v7BiA/s320/DSC_0052.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTX86JAzEJVgh5k86j50gMnMAWAqBDsJAyqd_m9y5ml9HefaCQlmfpL9sV38PWIk4CAumcXh3wosFFpb3716Bp2d23y3qh_-sy_xyFHAI7RUYWrp3f2Xwal8qu_PCEBJZdloWnfMat80o/s1600/DSC_0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTX86JAzEJVgh5k86j50gMnMAWAqBDsJAyqd_m9y5ml9HefaCQlmfpL9sV38PWIk4CAumcXh3wosFFpb3716Bp2d23y3qh_-sy_xyFHAI7RUYWrp3f2Xwal8qu_PCEBJZdloWnfMat80o/s320/DSC_0051.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa Cruz Pier<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDc8HUs3xoBdeLJBX7v35Hn0z7bfjQxSEfcWX9eWPw051vEleVsPUoM2KAk-zHmDc2tRb8jF8U48tQJVsMtHosYIu6_zY-6j6Ejf6pKqJB6CuS37VexjGbC1DLGSvEkO3TyOx3z2VZy6k/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDc8HUs3xoBdeLJBX7v35Hn0z7bfjQxSEfcWX9eWPw051vEleVsPUoM2KAk-zHmDc2tRb8jF8U48tQJVsMtHosYIu6_zY-6j6Ejf6pKqJB6CuS37VexjGbC1DLGSvEkO3TyOx3z2VZy6k/s320/photo.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the road...<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-79917389749937538922011-06-05T15:32:00.000-07:002011-06-05T15:32:20.785-07:00Sig Other Rides Out...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz36tTK63ceQ35-2xUH5Shcac83D0LhgE_IDFX-2VmpZZgLfoykvlwRHXjvxkNWNpbt77vuEFII7NcdkD483g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-84940887379624284332011-06-05T08:23:00.001-07:002011-06-05T08:23:56.886-07:00There is a preponderance of homosexuals here...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieediwK62r3ZNRYM1SYStyEpnUTdmFJwduW19J0yHEOdwma0ZpiLug7KMW3espjVWVjaX3OT3OKzUNOZzimFOauAVf4yWyjkaZsqatbz6f07rvC4w8ar0PV3Qae0hWLLGWkn_9JtxoYRg/s1600/DSC_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieediwK62r3ZNRYM1SYStyEpnUTdmFJwduW19J0yHEOdwma0ZpiLug7KMW3espjVWVjaX3OT3OKzUNOZzimFOauAVf4yWyjkaZsqatbz6f07rvC4w8ar0PV3Qae0hWLLGWkn_9JtxoYRg/s320/DSC_0033.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQRG7cszUdxOXkYsAJsmZHZQSHmG0YVV9RK48CeEwwwyiHukgDoMOyO9XeqzaiIbM4FRGu3NP-oxJL3uoYSUiSoxtR6O366t-Fa2I9tZdUDL4bBVlK48bkG3CZ9OKSWotEXjm9cUG1Mg/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQRG7cszUdxOXkYsAJsmZHZQSHmG0YVV9RK48CeEwwwyiHukgDoMOyO9XeqzaiIbM4FRGu3NP-oxJL3uoYSUiSoxtR6O366t-Fa2I9tZdUDL4bBVlK48bkG3CZ9OKSWotEXjm9cUG1Mg/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Our regularly scheduled program of introspection and musings regarding step-parenting and middle-aged sex is interrupted in honor of the tenth annual AIDS/Lifecycle ride and my chronicling thereof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sig Other announced several months ago that he would be embarking on this weeklong adventure and it never occurred to me at the time that either a) it would actually come about or b) I’d be roped in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But suddenly there we were, at the Cow Palace in San Francisco – standing in line after line to prepare Sig Other for the 545-mile ride. I will not be joining on two wheels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rather, I will follow on four – playing unofficial “soigner” on Sig Other’s ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walk toward registration and Sig Other notes with some surprise, “there is a preponderance of homosexuals here.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I remind him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is, after all, an AIDS ride.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sig Other is not homophobic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he is filter free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five minutes in and already he is wandering around the Cow Palace saying things like, “this is SO gay” and “there are a lot of gays here.” Generally, Sig Other likes to think of himself as living in a “post gay world” – a world in which labels are unnecessary and equal rights prevail for all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, that is NOT the world we live in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in our world, our gay friends are denied basic rights – the right to get married, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So Sig Other is riding in support of a cure for a disease that, without activism, would have otherwise gone unexplored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sig Other was aggressive and successful in his fundraising – he’s in the top 10 percent of donors on the ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cares about justice and ethical behavior and feels a responsibility to do tzedakah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what he LOVES is riding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What he loves is the bond between bikers, the obsession of the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remind him, as he wanders and makes his comments, that in fact he would have been just as happy riding in support of virulent toe fungus were that a cause he could raise money for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as this is for AIDS, he should be aware that there will in fact be a number of gay people present and not all will share my deep appreciation of his filter-free style.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As much as Sig Other loves riding, he has an equal and opposite response to large groups – large groups make him a bit queasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Large groups of people ordered from one area to another, standing in lines and shuffling about make him feel that he’s reliving a scene out of Schindler’s List.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He bore up well through the first hour or so of registration - 2500 people going from medical check to e-ticket to the waiting area for the orientation/safety video.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I, on the other hand, was starting to feel like one of the cows for which the palace (a misnomer if ever there was one) was named.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We waited on cold concrete in what looks like a cavernous metal barn, were herded from one line to the next, from waiting area into the video room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doors closed, we were seated, asked to turn off our cell phones and told that if we left the room for any reason during the video we’d forfeit the bright orange wristbands proving we’d seen the video and have to start over from the beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s when Sig Other leaned over to me and whispered, “See - this is when they turn the gas on.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sig Other rode out first thing this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With his friends Mark and Max and 2500 others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll meet them at their first stop in Santa Cruz later today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More then…</div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264466425852261124.post-6185873346652057622011-06-02T06:54:00.001-07:002011-06-02T06:54:44.881-07:00Berries and cream please.<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Child One did not like me when we first met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child Two takes every opportunity to remind me of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gives him great pleasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Maybe,” Child One said to me last night, ”it was because you tried to serve me strawberries with balsamic and basil instead of sugar and whipped cream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was only ten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who serves a ten year old their strawberries with balsamic?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remind her then she was not exactly a typical ten year old and already had a remarkably sophisticated palate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She considers a moment, agrees and says perhaps she’ll try it again soon.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This observation did not come out of nowhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had come home late from a movie, both starving, and I’d whipped up a quick dinner of scrambled eggs with shaved ricotta salata and sautéed baby zucchini with fresh sage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For dessert, she grabbed a nectarine from the fruit bowl and asked if I thought it would be good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Better,” I said, “with a drizzle of thick balsamic and some chopped mint.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s when she wrinkled her sweet nose and reminded me of the berries.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once or twice, when the reminder comes that Child One did not, in fact, like me when we first met, I suggest that perhaps her not liking me had nothing to do with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did not like the girlfriend that came before me (nor did I for that matter), or the one before that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suggest that perhaps ANY girlfriend who would come into her father’s life would not be received with open arms – that the girlfriend would be a threat to her own relationship with her father and a threat to the possibility that Sig Other and Ex Wife would reunite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child One dismisses this without a thought, “No,” she says, “I didn’t like you but that’s not why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe because you were bossy and I was afraid of you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She pauses there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I agree with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tell her I agree with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then she continues, “But now I’m sort of bossy too and I love you so much!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We laugh and leave it at that.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But I know – I will always know – why Child One didn’t like me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know and will always know why, even now that she truly does love me, she will remember those first years as difficult and fraught.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No child wants a third parent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No girl child wants a woman to threaten her special relationship with daddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No boy child wants a woman to take his mother’s place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These delicate relationships – the tenuous spiderweb dance we do as blended families – take constant attention – constant observation – which child is comfortable – which is feeling insecure – which is taking advantage, and which simply does not like balsamic on her strawberries and would prefer a simple serving with sugar and cream…</div><!--EndFragment-->Mrs L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903193675545857382noreply@blogger.com0