Almost Done with Finals!

I am finally done after a particularly loooonnng day. I handed in my last grad school project, took my last long exam...and have only one more oral exam to go tomorrow. I am sooooo done with all this!

I should be focusing on Christmas, but my shopping is almost done, and I don't feel like going all out to decorate...I have pointsettias and a few little things, and that's frankly enough...just the idea of UNdecorating afterwards requires too much energy at this point.

Now, all I want is a nice glass of wine, or some eggnog, a nice book to get lost in (that has NOTHING to do with my university studies!), and q..u..i..e..t...

sigh.

Well, at least I bought the eggnog on the way home.

I haven't blogged much lately, because I was having trouble with this blog. My posts kept not showing up. I see this past one (now over a week old) has finally arrived, so I've decided to try again.

I have discovered a new love. I do not subscribe to the cable conglomerate, and rather borrow videos and DVDs from the library for our down-time relaxation. About a month ago, my library had a new DVD: the British mystery/drama series Rosemary & Thyme. It is wonderful! Each of the DVDs holds 3 episodes...and after the first DVD, I was addicted. I love everything. The opening scene is a bouquet of flowers on time-lapse photography (which I always love!) This becomes a bouquet of rosemary and thyme. All this happens with a background of a beautiful version of "Scarborough Fair" played by John Williams on classical guitar. It is absolutely lovely.

The show is about two middle-aged ladies who are horticultural specialists. They rescue beautiful English gardens that've overgrown and such, and they inevitably stumble onto murders, which they solve, of course.
After the first DVD, I returned it to find (oh joy!) another one! After a few weeks of hard-core university research, I finally got a break and went back to the library to find they'd gotten 2 more! These are as delightful as the first 2.

So...if any of you enjoys Agatha Christie or any of the more recent British crime dramas (can't remember any names...sorry), then this will be right up your alley. I only wish my mom were here to share it with me. She'd have liked it too.

Happy rest-of-December, and may your holiday family happenings be blessed!

Well, it is December. I don't know why, but I get excited when I flip that calendar page from November to December...even when the weather's warmer than it should be. I dislike so much about the overcommercialism of the holidays, but there are still the basic reasons why I love this time of year, anyway.

When I was a little girl, my mother used to get an Advent calendar every year. (Does anyone remember those?) Every day, from Dec. 1st on, I'd open the little window for the day, and she would read to me what it said, and we'd get to see the hidden picture (a star, an angel, one of the animals in the stable.) One year, a German friend gave us one with little chocolates behind every window.

My mother was born on December 25th, and was named Carol in honor of the day. She was almost Noel, but her father was afraid it would be pronounced wrong. It's a funny thing about names. My mother was definitely a Carol, always singing...Noel just didn't suit her.

I think about my mom a lot, especially now. As Little-Sir-3-Year-Old loses his babyness and gets more like a rough and tumble boy, I wish she were here to share it all. She would absolutely adore him. There's so much about my life today that is completely different than when she was here with us. I wish she were here now...healthy and happy.

Yeah...more bittersweet times. Every wonderful thing I experience is saddened by not being able to share it the way I want with the people I want. Every awful thing is lessened a bit by the knowing that my mom didn't have to see it and be hurt by it.

And now it's December. Soon we'll have the first snow of winter, the holidays will rush by, the lull after Jan. 2 will come, and I'll seek opportunities to curl up with a good book on a cold evening.

Now, if only I had a fireplace...

To celebrate a successful beginning of the holiday season, I have decided to allow myself an urge to eat something off my diet...it's still healthy, just not in the normally-allotted caloric content for the a.m. for me. I've decided to have pie for breakfast. Maybe I won't eat the crust...I don't really like that part anyway. But pumpkin pie filling, or maybe apple, seems just about right for the Sunday-after-Thanksgiving Day- breakfast.

Mmmm.

DH and I got adventurous and tried something new this year: "Midnight Madness" at Tanger Outlet Center on Thanksgiving night. I never thought he'd be interested in shopping at midnight, after having worked all day, but he was game, so off we went..
yeah...us and thousands of other people.

DH had said, "They're gonna laugh at us...nobody's gonna be there!" But as we approached the end of River Road, we could see the cars backed all the way up to the Expressway, at 11:30 pm, just waiting to get in. Then, once inside, there were long lines at many of the stores, and at the mall office...and nowhere to park. By the time we finally gave up, and tried to come home, we couldn't get out! It was a little panic-making for a moment there. (Makes you wonder what would happen in case of a fire or something...could that place empty out quickly???)

But,it's good to try new things, and it was another bonding time for DH and I. We don't often get to do things just the 2 of us (well, just the 2 of us and all the other shoppers!) I guess that's the trick...do something together from 11:30 pm- 2 a.m. And then sleep in the next morning. Now if only I could manage our schedule that way...

Today is Thanksgiving, and as tradition demands, I am reflecting on what I am most thankful for.

First, I am thankful for my personal spiritual life, a non-religious form of Christianity. I know some people whose beliefs are close to mine, but not exactly the same. My faith in God has sustained me through some really horrible events in the past few years. Some call religion a crutch, I say my belief in God and my very real, very tangible sense of who I am and where I can go in time of need is the way I live every day. I don't think I could have gotten through the bad stuff without this constant meditation going on, this constant prayer under the surface, this sense of worship that I can fully enter into at any given moment.

Secondly, I am thankful for my DH. He is my soulmate, and came into my life at a time when I thought there wasn't one for me in the whole world. He drives me crazy, and teases too much, and has some flaws that I'm praying God will change, but with all that, He is "The One." He understands things about me that no one else ever even saw. He can read my mind, and verbalize my deepest emotions that I cannot put into words myself. He is home.

Thirdly, I am thankful for my three children. There's Number One Son, who would probably be a very close friend of mine if we weren't related, and we were age peers. He and I share so much, have so much in common, and even those things he really likes (like some of his music) that aren't my personal cup of tea, I can truly appreciate. Then there's DD, who would also probably be a very close friend, under the same circumstances. We have different things in common than her older brother and I, but nonetheless, we speak from the same heart, and I can appreciate the areas where her tastes and desires are not the same as my own. Finally, there's Little-Sir-3-Year-Old, who keeps me laughing with his antics and his little turns of a phrase. I am looking to forward to growing in friendship with him as well, as he gets older. I am very blessed with these three.

Fourthly, I am thankful for my father, the only one left of the older generations for me. The older I get, the more I appreciate him, and the more I am aware of the frailty of life, and what a precious, fleeting gift it is.

Fifthly, I am thankful that God has directed me toward a new career. It came as a surprise to me, when I thought I was going in a different direction. This one seems right, and as soon as I'm done with this particular degree, we'll see if the fit is as good as it seems.

I am thankful to be healthy, to live in a rural area with the beaches and the farms, and to have the opportunities I've had. I'm thankful for old friends and new friends, music to immerse myself in, good books and movies, travel opportunities,and so much more. I am thankful to God, and to all of those who have blessed my life just by touching it.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

It's been so long since I've written in this blog. I don't exactly have writer's block, it's just that I don't want to keep beating the same drum, writing about death, politics, and wanting to hold onto time, or at least not let it slip through my fingers so fast.

Well, for lack of a good positive launching-thought, I've been peeved lately by the increased commercialism of the Holidays (they started with the Holiday music on the radio this weekend, for Pete's sake! It's not even Thanksgiving yet!!!) The Christmas decorations and greeting cards went on sale with the back-to-school stuff this year...or we pushing it, or what? I think over-merchandising diminishes what is special about these days we hold dear, just becoming another money-mill to line the pockets of opportunists.

I don't have cable, so that I can control what comes into this house via that form of media (my DH has the European channels on the satellite dish so he can get his world soccer.) I hate the commercials the plague channels geared toward kids, so that they are programmed for gimme-gimme-gimme...things that are for the most part useless, and a waste of money. So many of these toys lose their fascination after 15 minutes.

So, while Little-Sir-3-Year-Old is still little, we'll get our weekly t.v. fix by borrowing videos and DVDs from the public library...without commercials! This way, I can expose him to programs that I think are of value, without worrying about the crap in between.

So...along those lines, has anyone else discovered "Little Bill"? Based on a character created by Bill Cosby, this little cartoon is wonderful. I love it. I love the message, I love the graphics, I love the way racism is handled (or not handled...) We've only begun to discover "Little Bill", and we look forward to getting more episodes on DVD. I've always loved Cosby, since I was a little girl and my parents used to play his albums. (Is anyone out there old enough to remember the "Noah" routine? Or the stories of Cosby's children as babies? Or the ones about his brother Russell? I remember laughing so hard, I cried...and they still effect me the same way.)

Anyway...don't mean to sound so negative all the time, but I'm trying to raise a non-materialistic, non-self-centered child in a world that seems to be fighting me tooth and nail. If anyone out there has any ideas of good books, video/DVDs, programs, etc. to foster mental/academic/social health, I'm all ears.

I just read Nancy's blog about the memorial service. I am thinking this fall is symbolic in my life, as my very dear adopted mother is really struggling with her battle against cancer, and my best friend's father-in-law just died. Today I had a voicemail from another friend, having to cancel a date because her mom suddenly went in for open-heart surgery.

I have this picture of my dear Carole (the mom) by my computer, and I feel like crying every time I see it. It's of the two of us, looking so happy, holding my little son together when he was a few weeks old. That picture is so full of LIFE! And now, the leaves are turning brown, and falling all over, and I keep seeing funeral processions heading to Calverton, and I can't stand it...I don't want to think of this for Carole, or my dad, or my husband's aging relatives...
and then, there are the unexpected deaths, like the boy in Wading River who just committed suicide (there's a lot of that going on in that school. What is it over there? Something in the water, like the nest of breast cancer in Shoreham???)

I know death is a part of life, and all the religious and non-religious sentiments connected to it. But for me, I just don't want to deal with this. I just want LIFE.

Election Day is looming ever nearer, and I'm scared. I've been trying to be an educated voter, read the right stuff, listen to NPR (which seems to cover CT politics), wade through the email I've gotten from different interest groups. There's one that piqued my interest...a mainly women's group, VotersForPeace...but one-issue groups often stand behind a candidate who's bad on other issues. There's so much going on now, locally and beyond. I wish I could just get a CLEAR picture of who are the good guys and who are the bad guys. Anyone missing a white hat?

I am reading a book I picked up in the library while just browsing, called Music Lessons: Guide Your Child to Play a Musical Instrument. As I am a music teacher, who teaches privately, I like to know what's being said about us. I also read these parents' books from time to time to pick up parenting tips. Anyway, I think this is a very good read for parents. I wish I had had it years ago to give copies of to all my students' parents.

I've often wondered why some students are very successful, some moderately so, and some, sadly, give up before they have a chance to shine. What is the formula? I've thought it was something like,
1. First, a desire within the child to create music.
2. The right teacher - warm, enthusiastic about music in general, flexible to different student learning styles, open to different methods and genres of music, skilled in the area of instruction.
3. Encouraging parents who provide, and insist upon, regular practice time in a quiet environment conducive to good concentration...mixed with a generous dollop of praise for sincere efforts.

Yet, sometimes, I've had students with seemingly all of the above, and they lose interest over time, even after fantastic success, and fizzle out. Others doggedly plod on through the years with little or no inspiration, and continue through high school graduation. Why do these lack the success that seems inevitable?

And my idea of success is not necessarily performance at Carnegie Hall. My idea of success is a lifelong love of learning, of developing skill, tastes, and perhaps venturing into new instruments and areas of musical expression.

In reading this book I am hoping to find a key that may have been missing for me. I want 100% of my students to be successful, and anything less feels like failure to me, personally.

And, on another personal note, Little-Sir-3-Year-Old has a hereditary love for music, and begs to play all the instruments he sees. About a month ago, I introduced him to his sister's old violin, thinking he'd play around for a few minutes, then lose interest and go back to his trucks and toy horses. Even tho' it's too big for him, he instinctively holds the bow correctly, and positions the violin quite well. He'll take 30 min. or so of mini lessons from me, and often will take the instrument out 4 or 5 times in one day. He's thrilled whenever I suggest it, and the promise of it will instantly snap him out of a cranky moment. I bought him a harmonica recently, too, so he can have his expression any time he likes, whether I'm home or not (he's not allowed to play the violin unless I or his sister are home to supervise. Respect for the instrument must be taught young.) Tonight, it was just the two of us home, so I put on Handel's Messiah full-blast, got out my flute, and the violin, and we had a joyous hour playing along. Of course he can't read notes yet, but the violin is tuned so that any string he plays won't sound off pitch with our selections.

I'm going to keep reading this book, and hopefully, with this little one, I'll get the formula just right.

Sometimes life has very odd coincidences.

The last time I tried to enter a blog, I wasn't feeling very well. I sort of had that feeling one gets when a virus is brewing...like a cloud is settling over, and
the aches that precede the other symptoms begin. I was typing out some very deeply-felt ideas about life, and what happens when a very dear friend is battling cancer.

And then the whole screen went blue, and a series of events ensued that were the result of multiple viruses attacking my computer. And then, I manifested the stomache virus that had been brewing.

Now, how does this happen? I know viruses are contagious, but this is a bit of a reach, even for me.

Now, after an interesting session yesterday with a very nice Dell tech. in India, the computer is happily functioning again, and I crawled out of bed this morning, feeling more like myself than I have in days.

Hmmm.

Well, here I am, procrastinating, again. I have an unusual evening off, and so I thought I'd be a good student and get a jump on tomorrow's homework (which is gonna take me hours to do, as it is.) But...

Little Sir 3-Year-Old needed to get out of the house, after being cooped up all day with a sick father on a rainy day, and I had to go to the library anyway, and I miss having time with him, so...why not do it together? Took a textbook and a notebook, the little boy, and off we went. Spent a lovely time getting started on homework, while watching him play with the puzzles, go through The Very Quiet Cricket a couple of times, explore the selection of Curious George books, and go through the entire puppet box. Delightfully unrushed for once, he had a wonderful time (except for the frustrating moments when he tried to be friendly with another little boy who was JUST NOT INTERESTED! He doesn't get it that not everybody wants to play with him.) I actually did get some work done, and he was very cooperative while I looked up books for an assignment. Together, we picked out some appropriate videos (newer generation ones I don't know so well, like Blue's Clues, and some oldies-but-goodies...I say, it's time to introduce him to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!)

Well, that accomplished, DH has him in the tub, and I'm at the computer, supposedly working hard at being a good student. Nothing's coming to me. Blank screen. I don't wanna do this. Not another dissertation...blah blah blah.

I keep remembering the way my day started out, at 8 a.m. With a mammogram. Ugh. I know it's the responsible thing to do, keeping tabs on my health and all, but really. Some women-hating sadist must've invented this particular torture device. I understand what it does, but when they take an x-ray of my teeth, the dentist doesn't feel the need to first run a high pressured rolling pin over my face, squeezing the absolute life out of me. Sonograms aren't excruciatingly painful. Imagine if they photographed scrotums that way!

And then the technician kept asking me if I was ok. "Well," I smiled, grimly. "This
is not the most comfortable experience I've ever had." I guess she could tell by my facial expression, as she bent me all over, like Gumby, trying to stick half of my chest in the squeezing device, without any of the other side of my chest getting in the way. How does Dolly Parton manage this???

And on that note, I'm getting back to work.

I had something nice just happen tonight, and I have to write about it.

I'm back in college, adding some more letters after my name, and trying to juggle everything well. I always feel like I'm not quite cutting it...my papers are not researched quite well enough, not proofread carefully enough, my presentations not interesting enough...and then, there's real life...the house not quite clean enough, not spending enough time with DH, my dad, and each of my 3 offspring...not exercising enough, not remembering to take my vitamins often enough, blah blah blah.
(can I add not sleeping enough???)

Well, tonight I had a presentation to do...the second of 3 students who were to present. The first young woman got up, with perky little handouts, looking like a perfectly groomed executive. The one after me introduced a guest at the conclusion of her speech, who blew everyone away.

And there was me, sandwiched in the middle. Dressed nice, but feeling dumpy...awkwardly stumbling over my words, as happens when I get nervous...forcing myself to make eye contact, and always looking at the WRONG person (someone yawning, or whispering to their neighbor, or looking like they were textmessaging.) I got through it, just like I always do. "Endure to the end!", that's my motto.

Well...after class, the professor asked me to stay for a minute. My heart started pounding. Oh no. What did I do wrong? Did I research the wrong topic? Say something off color?

She turned to me and said, "I just have to tell you, that was an excellent presentation. Your research was so thoroughly done, and everything you said was so interesting! I really enjoyed it."

Wow. Well, knock me over with a feather. I managed to smile, and politely say, "Thank you," before bolting from the room. Wow!

Just thought I'd write it all down, and savor the moment, before I tackle my next chore. Studying for tomorrow's Phonetics exam. Ugh.

I heard an interview on the Diane Reahm Show awhile back. I don't remember the name of the author or the book she'd just published, and I'd missed the beginning of the show, anyway. What did make a big impression on me, however, was her exhortation to a caller to "love your neck". She asked her if she'd looked at her neck lately, and the caller, said, ashamedly, "No." Apparently, the author had been awoken one day, quite rudely, with the reality of her aging, which was particularly apparent on her face and neck.


I've watched, unhappily, the increasing lies around my eyes, and the appearance of some new creases in my skin that hadn't been there before this summer. My neck looks okay, I guess ... so far... but I did notice a new crease, right by my mouth, today. When I smile, I have an extra smile line on the left side of my face, that's not matched on the right side...and when I stop smiling, it's still there.


Now, I've invested in Arbonne's all-natural age-fighting regime, and I'm pretty faithful about using it (in the morning, at least...at night, I'm just too tired to do too many steps.) I'm careful to use sunblock and not get too much sun exposure, and I drink a lot of water, and eat healthily. But the clock keeps ticking, doesn't it, and the pages on the calendar still keep needing to be flipped.


I've pondered, what is it, exactly, that I want? I'm not into the whole routine of many I've seen who get injections of serums meant to preserve, or renew, youth...and those into Botox and all it's relations. Age is inevitable, and I don't want to look fake with a 20-year-old face on a 60-year-old body one day. (I saw a lady like that once in Southampton that nearly scared me to death. Her face looked at least 40 years younger than her hands. It was creepy!)

But I do want to age gracefully, and be active and peppy and intelligent to the day I die, with lots of energy to do all the things I love. I've watched women who are 40 years older than I, and more, and found ones I particularly admire. There's one who's recently taken up the flute, another who still goes dancing every night, and another who's always busy in the garden cross-breeding and experimenting with different soil pHs, still trying to get the perfect tomato. There are two in their late 80's, one's a music teacher, and the other an ESL teacher, who still teach and have a passion for it. They seem to be perfectly comfortable with who they are, and the place they've come to.

Today I talked with a gentleman who's well into his 60's, who has a respected law firm with many younger partners, as well as older ones. The younger ones wanted to know at what age he was going to put in a policy of enforced retirement. He said "Never." His elder colleagues were still practicing law, using their experienced edge to run circles around the younger ones, and were very happy doing it. Why should they stop?

They say "50 is the new 40, 40 is the new 30," etc. I think we have a new view on age today, than perhaps we did 20 yrs. ago. While age is not respected as it once was, or is still in some societies, it is also not viewed as obsolescence. I remember an ad that said, "Don't lie about your age...defy it."

So what do I do? I'm back in college, with many other ladies older than myself, going through a career change. Some of my fellow students are over 55, and are planning a whole new career, having already completed one. That takes guts, and I have nothing but respect for them.

I'm gonna keep coloring my new grays, keep putting the age-defying potions on my face, keep beating my body into submission with exercise, keep forcing my brain to tackle new languages and new concepts...and I am not going to quietly retire, an old woman, at 55. Who has time for that? I'm too busy, at 43, to even think of it.

The Difference Between Men and Women

I have been battling my weight for many years, probably since adolescence. It is a frustrating battle. I was always active, involved in sports and leisure activities, but the weight always hung on, no matter what I did or did not eat. I think I really messed things up when I was about 15, going through long starvation stretches, and periods when I wouldn't eat more than 400 calories a day. The metabolism adjusts itself to such severities, in self-preservation.

Since my last pregnancy, and a subsequent return to college, I've really had a battle. The pounds creep on, regardless of my faithfulness to the gym and salads.

Well, DH decides he's put on too much weight recently, too. (He doesn't even have a belly to speak of...just a slight rounding in front, where he used to be concave, and flat.) He decides to lose it...goes for a week without bread, substitutes extra servings of fruit and veggies and goes to the gym maybe four times in four weeks.

Today, he announces, he's lost 10 pounds. In four weeks. Ten pounds.

I've been strictly disciplined all summer and lost only 7. Almost 4 months, 7 pounds.

And that, my dear, is the difference between men and women.

Not fair, is it?

Bittersweet Endings and New Beginnings

As I shuffled into the early morning kitchen, my eyes swollen from yesterday's too-much-exposure-to-Nature's-allergens, my throat also saying it wasn't happy, I reached for my precious horde of teabags. Now this little collection of mine isn't just any ordinary set of teabags. It represents four separate and distinct moments in time that I am trying to preserve forever.

Number One Son went on a trip to London with his godfather several years ago, and brought me back tea from Harrods. For a young boy, this was such a thoughtful gift. I love tea, and the moments spent relaxing with a cup in my hands, while I enjoy something else...a good book, a good friend, a quiet moment out listening to the birds... I made that first box last as long as I possibly could. (I don't know if you can freeze tea...and, as there was no expiration date, I don't really know what the shelf-life is, either.)

A few years later, DD (Dear Daughter) went on a similar trip with the same godfather, and brought me back a beautiful china tea-cup. I am very careful with that cup, keeping it on a high shelf where it can't accidentally get knocked over, and I savor my times drinking out of it.

Then, in college, DD went on a Spring-Break missions trip to Scotland and brought
me back Scottish tea. Even the box is wonderful, with all its little Scottish turns of speech.

Finally, this past May, Number One Son went to Europe on a youth-hostel-backpacking trip to celebrate his college graduation. As he was limited with the backpack in what gifts he could bring back, what did he bring me? Two boxes of tea from Harrods. Ahhh...there it is again.

So, I have these four precious items: the teacup, the Scottish tea, and the two boxes of tea from Harrods. They are all mine, but in a non-Gollum-ish way. No one else really wants them, as the rest of the family doesn't have this same relishing of these particular teas that I do, so I don't have to share. This morning I wondered, again, how long these teabags will last. I will savor them to the bittersweet end, the last priceless cup of each kind.

It occurs to me that I have a particular appreciation for the bittersweet ends of things, and for new beginnings. Something in me wants to make a special mark in my memory for certain experiences, so that I can re-live them over and over. I don't want to take for granted that last wonderful swim in the bay before the weather turns too cold. Similarly, I want to slowly dip my toes in the first delicious time, when the water feels icy, early in the Spring. It's the same way with the first strawberry of the season, and the last...the first corn, and the last.

I remember an episode of Gilmore Girls, where Rory goes off to Yale, and her mom is moving her into her dorm room. Rory is so preoccupied with the day's scheduled events, her face buried in the college hand-outs, that she's not noticing the dorm suite. Her mom says suddenly, "Do over!" and makes her walk out of the suite, close the door, put the schedule down, and do it all over again, to get the proper first impression. (I have to admit, I'm a bit jealous that Rory went to a college about an hour and a half away, and Lorelai could take her there, making several trips with all the stuff, while my DD chose a school on the other end of the country.) But, beyond that, I can so relate with Lorelai, and her need to truly experience specific events that stand out like markings on life's timeline.

I savor, relish, dwell on, deeply enjoy and delight in special beginnings and endings. Visits with loved ones, really good books, or movies, wonderful experiences...I want every second to count, sort of like the perfumer extracting the very essence out of a flower.

Summer's bittersweet end is here, and there's Janet's visit with her two little ones frollicking around with my Little-Sir-3-Year-Old, the beginning of fall, a new semester at school, mornings with DH now that he's back on the late shift, and so much more. I have my tea, and a gorgeous early morning warm sun on my back, and I am savoring it until I must get to the chores of the day.

Happy September, everybody!

The Bitersweet End of Summer

As I enjoy these last precious moments of summer, I am two places at once. I am here, in the present, walking the beach with Little-Sir-3-Year-Old and DH, seeing things fresh and new for the first time...watching as they enjoy the seagulls, or play catch in the water.

But I am also in the past, re-living similar precious moments. I remember building sandcastles with Number-One-Son and DD (Dear Daughter), and our friends Lois and Christopher...swimming with my mom when she was still healthy enough to brave the breakers, initially with the kids in life jackets, just in case one slipped out of our grip...boating in my dad's pride and joy, a 30 foot Silverton...fishing on Shinnecock Canal. And even farther back, I am with my grandfather in the boat he built himself, out clamming for the day, sometimes with my grandmother, but more often, just we two. Those precious memories are more alive when I am at the beach. One memory just flows into another.

But the present beckons me autumn-ward, with the beginning of a new school term, and apple picking, and pumpkin picking ahead, and all the joys that that season brings. But summer is still here, just for a little while longer. 'Til the bittersweet end.

Happy memories, all!
j-m


The Bittersweet End of Summer

Remember the "Freshman 15"? (or 20 or 30?) Supposedly this refers to the weight college freshman can gain, being so buried under schoolwork they neglect sports and exercise. They are eating at the cafeteria, or cheapo fast food, and maybe drinking lots of calories, too.

Well, the college years have had a strange sort of boomerang effect on me. At the ripe old age of 40, I decided to go back to add some more letters after my name. This change in my routine, adding a full-time class-load to my already full life of being a teacher and a mom (my youngest was only 3 months old when I went back) meant altering my life to a very sedentary existence. For 3 years, now, I have had this routine: SIT in the car and drive to school, walk to class, SIT in class after class after class, walk to the car, SIT as I drive, SIT at work, SIT as I drive home, briefly run around the house being Mom, then when everybody's tucked in bed for the night, SIT at the computer and do homework. I see a pattern developing here. Sit, sit, and more sit. Yeah. Hence, the baby weight I was able to avoid in my last pregnancy has padded me all over, making me very very unhappy with the new look.

I've successfully added a new set of letters after my name, and am currently working to add another set. And this summer I have made a concerted effort to lose the Freshman 30 (ouch). Well, after one briefly successful week of walk/jog/run routines in the early a.m., I hurt my foot so badly I could barely walk (making it very difficult to get to classes.) The scale barely budged. Throughout the summer, I've tried a variety of videos from the library: Pilates, Yoga, Tae-Bo, even belly-dancing. (that one was fun!) Today, joy of all joys, the scale says I've lost 7 pounds.

Now, comes one of the many Extreme Unfairnesses in the Universe. Why is it that one lovely Haagen Dazs dark chocolate ice cream pop can make me gain 5 lbs., but it takes a whole summer of boot camp, eating lots and lots of veggies, denying myself such normalties as semolina bread at dinner (one of DH's staple foods)...and I only lose 7 lbs.??? It seems that the physical and mental effort should be fairly equated with the downward motion of the numbers on the scale. But, apparently, the human body has this built-in survival mechanism that prevents us from losing too fast, going into starvation mode. I keep trying to explain to my body that I'm not trying to starve myself to death...only to get back to the prepregnancy shape and size (and then we'll negotiate for smaller numbers.) My body is not listening.

One day, I hope to have it all together: the career, nice house, happy family, AND my ideal body (my vision is pretty realistic for a 44-year-old.) For now, I'll keep doing the videos (now I have one dancing with Paula Abdul...go figure!) I'll enjoy the plentiful varieties of salad makings and fresh fish, and try to keep it all in balance. There is light at the end of the tunnel, and I'm trusting that it is not a train.

Healthy days!
j-m
posted by jean-marie at 5:49 PM 0 comments

I love this time of year. My summer session at school is finished, and there's a little break before September sesson starts. I go into mega-cooking mode, reminiscent of my grandmother. Maybe it's guilt-driven in part, because when the semester is in full swing, I'm so bogged down with my work schedule and school schedule, that much of home time is spent doing homework. I do cook for my family, and DH cooks too, but not that great stuff that needs that elusive element ...Time. So, for this brief two weeks, I become a regular at the farm stand down the street, looking for just the right ingredients for my creations.

Since tomatoes are in such abundance now, I got inspired by a big basket of seconds, nicknamed "silly tomatoes," by Cheryl, the proprietor. As I hate going to the supermarket, I try getting as many ingredients as possible from either the local farm or fish market. Cheryl happened to also have some really nice topnecks, which
were just calling to me. Happily, I trucked it all home, with the various other goodies, and made a pot of chowder. Now, I've never made soup with fresh tomatoes before, and I wasn't quite sure how it'd work out. I've always used tomato paste or stewed tomatoes, which always have that can-taste residue. Well, my chowder was an absolute success. DH was thrilled with it, showering me with compliments even rare for him, such as, "This is better than any restaurant's!" and told me to be sure to write down whatever I'd just done. Encouraged by this success, followed by other glowing comments from Number-One-Son, I decided to keep the ball rolling. I've been experimenting with other fresh-tomato-based soups and chowders, using shrimp, eggplant, corn, various herbs, and any other inviting ingredients at hand.

Yes, for a few weeks my family will eat extraordinarily well, my budget will be happy (as this cooking actually costs less than the throw-it-together-quick meals that have to do during semester's crush,) and I am relaxed and humming in my domestic therapy sessions. It is the bittersweet end of summer that affords me this great luxury, with Nature's Bounty bursting with delicious selections, and precious time, for the moment, on my side.

Let's enjoy what's left of this season, which is suddenly delightfully cool. The dreaded menace of school looms ahead, with all it's demands, and freedom must be held at bay again, for awhile
posted by jean-marie at 12:12 PM 0 comments

Saturday, August 19, 2006
Sometimes I think there really is a Big Conspiracy of sorts out there.
To those who know me well, it is no secret that I love fireworks. When I see them, I get all excited like a little kid again, and sometimes I get all choked up. I remember seeing them at Disney when my oldest was about 5, and they had this incredible laser show, coordinated with music. It was amazing. Then, we went to Sea World, and they had beautiful fireworks, too, just it was part of some stupid comedy show that really just took away from the fireworks...fireworks don't need any fluff (except, maybe a little music)...they are, after all, Fireworks!

So, now my littlest son is 3, and I've been wanting to take him to see fireworks. Last year, he was really too young, and cried when we saw them at Riverhead Raceway (not on the grounds, but from a street nearby...still very loud!) This summer, every
time I find where there will be fireworks, something happens. Every stinking time.

The best was the Fourth of July. Riverhead had one of their waterfront festivals going on, and DH (Dear Husband) and I had it all planned: we had chairs, a blanket, changes of clothes, food, the works. We found a good parking space around 6pm, and prepared to settle in, enjoying the rest of the fair until the fireworks started. Last minute, after we parked, DH says, "We should really put a diaper on him. (he is potty trained, but wears one at night, just in case.) We don't know what the bathroon situation will be like, so just in case, he's covered." (no pun intended.) So, I had him lay across my lap to put the diaper on, and noticed this little tiny black speck near his scrotum. Dirt, right? Went to flick it off, but it wouldn't flick. Turned out to be a deer tick. Great. Tried to remove it, but no way. Now, Little Sir 3-Year-Old is screaming. DH says, "Let's just take him to the ER...they have tools to get it off right away, 1-2-3, and it won't hurt like this. Maybe they'll give him an antibiotic, just in case." Ok. So, off we went to the hospital-formerly-known-as-Central-Suffolk. They did have this amazing set of needle-nosed tweezers and got it off 1-2-3, and sent us off with a list of instructions about what symptoms to watch out for with tick-borne diseases. Apparently they don't do preventive-measure antibiotics any more, just in case.

Because we were one of many families there with holiday-related injuries, we had had to wait quite a while before being seen, so by the time we got out, it was dark and we could see the tail end of the fireworks as we drove toward the waterfront. "See them? See them?" I cried excitedly. Little Sir 3-year-old couldn't see from the backseat. By the time we got near the light at the end of Roanoke, it was all over.
So, tonight, I was preparing some fried red peppers, when I hear this racket outside. No! It can't be! I ran out to the deck, and yes, through the trees I could see fireworks! Yay! I yelled for DH (who, by now, really does think I am crazy), "Are you coming?" and out the door I went, in my pj's, DH's flipflops (which are way too big), grabbed the little boy, also in pj's, and flew to the site.
Yes! We saw them them. For all of about 30 seconds. Finally. Fireworks.
Then it stopped. "Is it over?" asked Little Sir 3-year-old. "No more boom boom?"
"No," I answered. The Big Conspiracy reigns.
But, there is a silver lining. I looked on the internet, and Riverhead Raceway is having fireworks next Saturday. Maybe, just maybe, this time, The Almighty will hold back the rain, and hail, and locusts, and any other deterrent that might try to stand in the way, and DH, Little Sir 3-year-old, and I will finally get to see our fireworks together.
posted by jean-marie at 7:37 PM 0 comments

The Bittersweet End

Those last days at the beach are always the saddest. You think of all the lost opportunites when you could've been here, but got bogged down with housework (like cleaning out a closet on a gorgeous day is wise time-management.)

For some reason, those last days are when you find the best seashells, the waves are perfect, the water temperature is just right, it's not too windy, the jellyfish aren't around, and even the clouds seem extra special. The kids don't realize their golden moments are numbered, and soon it'll be too cold for this. Not that I ever stay away from the beach...actually, I love walking on the beach on a mild winter day. But it's not the same.

The beach at the end of summer has its own special magic. The water is a different color than it is in May, and all the Nature-debris (seaweed, old horse-shoe crab shells...) is cleared away. The air smells sweeter, with that briny tang, and there's this feeling of mellow I can't find anywhere else.

I just want to back-float forever, hearing the sounds under the sea clearer than the sounds above it, just relaxing in the moment. I want to go snorkelling and find a scallop bed somewhere, their blue eyes more beautiful than any sapphire. I want to paddle around with my 3-year-old, forgetting about all the stresses of life, just being us on a beautiful summer's day.

The bittersweet end of summer is here, and I want to hold onto it forever, but
it's like trying to hold a cupful of water in your hands. It just slips through your fingers and is gone.
posted by jean-marie at 7:37 PM 0 comments

Friday, August 18, 2006
The Bittersweet End of Summer

After the blistering heat, which my car kept telling me was over 100 degrees, this unexpectedly delightful cooler snap is almost invigorating. I love that I've had to break out the blankets again to sleep at night, and that we're not running the a.c. any more. I really don't like air conditioning. I like not sweating and being miserable, but it always gives me a sore throat for some reason.

When I was a kid, my parents went and splurged and got an a.c. for their bedroom. Of course, it didn't cool the whole house, so they kept the door shut, and when it was too hot to sleep, I'd bring my mattress into their room to sleep. When I slipped between the cool sheets, it felt wonderful, but I always woke up feeling like I had a cold the next morning...backache, sniffly, sore throat. Why is that?

I'm sure summer has more heat in store for us, and I'm glad. It seems to be slipping away much too quickly. My daughter is going back to college in Fla., and that's bittersweet. I love the time we've had this summer, tho' it wasn't enough, with work schedules and everything, but it was really nice having her here. She's growing up, and is more of a pal, now. But, in a way, I'm glad she's going back, too. We'll all miss her, especially my little guy, who adores her, but her life is more there now, than here. She has a new circle of friends, her own little niche. She's been very successful, academically, and seems (I hope, I hope) to be making good connections, career-wise, for later.

I'm glad summer's gonna hang around a bit longer, and really hoping the Almighty will grace us with a nice long Indian summer. My old friend, Janet, is coming back for a visit soon, and I hope to have some nice leisurely mornings at the beach with her, away from responsibilities, to just catch up. When a really good friend moves away, something just doesn't seem right any more. Talking on the phone's ok, but not the same as sitting in the kitchen with a bottomless pot of tea. I miss strawberry picking with her, musseling with her, taking the kids to the beach together, camping on the beach and waking up to the sound of the breakers at Smith's Point...stuff I never shared with anybody else, 'cause they just weren't into that stuff.
Yeah...I'm glad summer's still here for a little while. I need to enjoy it just a little bit longer.

Happy sunshine.
jean-marie
posted by jean-marie at 9:30 PM 1 comments