No One is Alone

Yesterday, I had an emergency appointment with a dermatologist because the mild rash I’d been experiencing for several months had suddenly exploded and covered my entire face, neck, and shoulders with an uncomfortable, itchy, UGLY rash. I had been for treatment about a month earlier, and the rash seemed to be responding well to the medications, but the sudden worsening had happened just before my family left for two back-to-back vacations, so I’d been dealing with the discomfort of the rash for several weeks (and my family had been dealing with the discomfort of ME for several weeks). Needless to say, by the time I was sitting in the office, I was feeling pretty frustrated. 

At my initial appointment, the resident and the attending physician both examined me thoroughly and agreed that they weren’t sure of the exact cause, but because the rash was on my face, they wanted to try a course of medications before resorting to taking a biopsy, which would likely leave a scar. At my first follow-up appointment, things had improved so much that we all agreed to just finish out the course of the medication. At yesterday’s appointment, the rash was defined enough that they were able to determine, without a biopsy, at least that the rash seemed to be caused by exposure to some kind of irritant or allergen, rather than by an infection. But what was the cause? The resident and I thought through some things I might have been exposed to – air freshener, cleaning chemicals, different shampoo or detergent or face wash or sunscreen, a new perfume, some kind of pollen in the air. It was actually a small benefit that the problem had begun just before we left for vacation, because there were very few things that I had been exposed to consistently over those two weeks: I had slept in my bed, in a cottage, at a hotel, and in a tent; I had eaten at home and at restaurants; I had been in three different states with completely different flora; I had been out of the sun, in the sun a little bit, and had full sun exposure; I’d spent long hours in the car, long hours in the house, and long hours in the great outdoors. It allowed us to eliminate a number of different factors. In fact, it had caused us to eliminate pretty much  everything we could think of. 

After this extensive discussion, the resident went to get the attending physician to review his recommendations. One of the last questions he asked was, “What bothers you most: pain, itchiness -“ I interrupted to agree wholeheartedly, “Itchiness!” He paused a moment and asked gently, “And how it looks?” I made a bit of a noncommittal face but he saw the tears well up in my eyes. I’m not vain, but it’s hard to look in the mirror for two weeks and see a moon landscape of angry red welts and pimples covering your entire face. (I’m developing a new appreciation and sympathy for teens with bad acne.) As he left the room, he squeezed my shoulder sympathetically and said, “It looks really uncomfortable. We’ll get it taken care of.”

Now, that’s a pretty small thing. A lot of doctors would say something similar – don’t worry about it, I’m sure we’ll find the problem, we’ll figure it out – but that little bit of human contact, that reassuring squeeze, reminded me that he’s on my team. He cares that I’m miserable. My pain matters to him. That simple touch told me that I was not alone in dealing with this unpleasant problem. 

What did it cost him to take that extra second, to make that extra contact? Not much. He could do that for every patient all day long and only leave the office 30 seconds later than usual. How many times are we given an opportunity to add that split-second of extra reassurance, of letting people know we’re on their side, of making someone feel less alone?  I read an article this morning about a woman who was coming to terms with her alcoholism, and hearing another person say the words, “Guess what? Me too,”  helped her realize that she wasn’t battling in a vacuum. She didn’t have to do it all herself. She wasn’t the only one to go through it. She wasn’t alone.

And that’s what I needed to hear yesterday: I am not abandoned and alone in my fight and my frustration. There are others fighting by my side, some family, some friends, some strangers. But all helping to fight my battle, whether by active participation or merely encouragement and sympathy. 

It was a little thing, but it made all the difference in the world.

I am not alone. And neither are you, whatever you may be suffering right now. Courage, friend. You are not alone. No one is alone. 

 

A Thorn in the Flesh

Most people who know me well know that I have chronic health issues. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis when I was 25, nearly half a lifetime ago. Although my condition is relatively well controlled with medication, I live with a certain constant level of background pain, and every now and then I suffer a flare-up of my symptoms or occasionally some weird related condition or side effect to some drug. One of the most frustrating parts of having RA is that, since it is an autoimmune condition that is treated with immunosuppressive drugs, I am highly susceptible to every kind of germ or infection, and I tend to get sick more frequently, more easily, and more severely than most people. This means that I need to be very careful any time I have any kind of injury or any damage to my skin that could allow bacteria to get into my system.

My doctor once informed me that I am a “minimizer;” in other words, I tend to downplay any pain or annoying symptoms I am experiencing. In my relationship to the people in my life, this is a good thing. If I complained every day that my joints ached or that I was fatigued, the people around me would soon get tired of my constant complaining. More importantly, complaining would keep me focused on my pain instead of moving past it and focusing on other things. So I consciously try to ignore those minor irritants that are out of my control and focus on the parts of my life that I can control.

But there are some days when some medical issue knocks me down nearly beyond what I can bear. Sometimes it’s a truly severe, painful episode. Having given birth to two children, I can honestly say that RA flare-ups can be worse than labor pains. But sometimes the straw that breaks the camel’s back is something stupid and relatively minor. Like not being able to straighten out my fingers. Like ugly bunions and nodules on my feet. Like a rash all over my face.

I’m not particularly vain. I’m aware that I’m not a conventionally beautiful woman, and I’m honestly okay with that. But being in my 40s and having breakouts all over my face is still a bit of a blow to my ego. Not to mention an itchiness that makes me want to claw my own face off, just like that scene in Poltergeist. (I won’t include a clip, but if you’ve ever seen the movie, you know the scene I mean. I’ve seriously considered re-enacting it lately.) Much like the apostle Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” (2 Corinthians 12:17), the “messenger of Satan” is buffeting me. Unlike Paul, however, I am certainly not feeling “exalted above measure.” I am merely feeling buffeted, and torn down, and tired.

God, am I tired.

I am feeling much sympathy for Paul, with his occasionally prickliness and short-temperedness and irritability, because I am feeling much the same right now. My thorn may not be quite the same as Paul’s, but the result certainly is. Neither one of us is a real picnic to be around right now.

So if you run into me in real life these days and I’m not quite as pleasant as you were hoping, please forgive me. Because I’ve got this thorn, you see. 

Morning Peace

I woke up at 4:00 this morning. Not that groggy, half-asleep, "why am I awake?" kind of waking up, but a genuine, "my body is done sleeping; let's get up and do stuff" kind of awake. I managed to force myself to lay quietly and read for an hour and a half, but I finally decided to give in, get up, and enjoy the peace and quiet of being the only awake person in the house.

I threw on some clothes, made myself a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, and then...I just sat. I listened to the birds. I smelled the neighborhood skunk and wondered idly where he was wandering. I watched the pink sky fade to blue. I listened to the occasional rumble of a passing car.

I started to think about everything I need to get done today, but then I stopped myself. Two hours from now, I can worry about that. Right now, I'm clearing it all from my mind. I'm not worrying about what I have to get done; I'm not planning out my day. I'm just enjoying the peace and quiet. I'm enjoying putting my thoughts down on paper (figuratively) without having the train of those thoughts being derailed by a small person asking for breakfast or a drink or a kiss, or a slightly larger one asking where his keys are or reminding me of his schedule or also asking for a kiss. Not that any of those interruptions are unpleasant or unwelcome. But they do break my concentration and focus. So it's a wonderful little gift, a mental oasis, if you will, to have an hour or two without another soul intruding into my consciousness.

Any moment now, I expect to hear the patter of little feet and the chatter of little voices breaking into my peaceful meditations. But by then, I'll be ready for them: relaxed, refreshed, rejuvenated. At peace.

Food, Glorious Food

I’m not much of a food blogger, but I did a lot of cooking this weekend and everything came out particularly delicious, so I’m sharing my menus! Sorry I don’t have photos of my own results, but trust me, everything looked EXACTLY like these stock photos. I have given the sources of the original recipes, but the versions listed below include a few of my own variations.

I’m a big fan of appetizers – in fact, I’d happily make a meal entirely of appetizers and ignore the entrée altogether. So here are a few of the apps I served this weekend, along with a couple of light entrees that can easily be served as small plates alongside a buffet of appetizers.

Balsamic Bruschetta (based on pipandebby.com)

This bruschetta can be served either warm or cold, and it’s a wonderful way to highlight fresh tomatoes and/or basil from your garden, if you have them!

2 large tomatoes, diced
1/3 cup fresh basil, chopped
2 tsp minced garlic
¼ cup shredded Parmesan
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp olive oil
¼ tsp black pepper
¼ tsp kosher salt
1 loaf French bread

Mix together all ingredients except bread in a small bowl and chill in refrigerator. Slice bread diagonally into ½” slices; lay on a baking sheet and toast at 425 degrees for 3-4 minutes, until crispy. Top bread with tomato mixture and serve immediately. Top with additional parmesan, if desired.

If you prefer to serve the bruschetta warm, don’t pre-toast the bread, but top the fresh sliced bread with the tomato mixture and bake at 425 for 4-5 minutes, then serve warm.

Artichoke Stuffed Mushrooms (based on eatingwell.com)

This stuffing is a nice alternative to crab or lobster stuffed mushrooms if you or your guests have shellfish allergies. Plus it’s a great way to use up those huge jars of marinated artichoke hearts from Costco.

24 medium cremini (baby bella) mushrooms
olive oil
2 shallots, minced
2 tsp minced garlic
2/3 cup marinated artichoke hearts, drained and chopped fairly fine
3 tbsp panko breadcrumbs
2 tbsp grated Parmesan
½ marinated artichoke hearts, drained and chopped
3 tbsp panko breadcrumbs, divided
2 tbsp grated Parmesan
2 tbsp light mayonnaise
1/8 tsp dried thyme
¼ tsp salt
¼ fresh black pepper

Position rack in top third of oven and preheat broiler (use the “low” setting if there’s an option). Coat a metal 9x13 pan or deep jelly roll pan with non-stick spray or line it with non-stick foil.

Wash mushrooms well and pat dry; remove and finely chop stems. Heat 1 tsp oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the stems, shallots, and garlic and cook, stirring, until the liquid is evaporated, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and stir in artichoke hearts, 2 tablespoons panko, Parmesan, mayonnaise and thyme.

Toss the mushroom caps in another bowl with 2 teaspoons oil, salt and pepper. Stuff each with filling (mounding fairly high; this recipe makes a generous amount of stuffing) and place in the prepared pan. Combine the remaining 1 tablespoon breadcrumbs and 1 teaspoon oil and sprinkle on the mushrooms.

Broil until the mushrooms are soft and the breadcrumbs are golden, 15 to 20 minutes.

Mushrooms may be stuffed up to 3 hours prior to baking.

Lamb Sliders (based on Giada de Laurentis’ recipe)

This recipe is great because the lamb and cumin make it taste just slightly exotic without being too unusual for most palates. Although the sliders are best when cooked over an open grill, you can also pan fry them. The patties can be made well ahead of time and refrigerated in plastic wrap.

5 tablespoons olive oil, divided

2 large shallots, minced

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 tsp minced garlic

1 pound ground lamb

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 tablespoon ketchup

Eight ½-inch cubes of Gruyere or Havarti cheese

8 slider buns (King’s Hawaiian are the best!), halved

Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in an 8-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the shallots, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Cook until the shallots are soft, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until aromatic, about 30 seconds. Remove the pan from the heat and let cool slightly.

Combine the shallot mixture, lamb, cumin, ketchup, scant 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper in a medium bowl. Form the mixture into eight 1/2-inch thick patties. Press a cube of cheese into the middle of each patty and form the meat around the cheese to cover. (Be sure to seal well or the cheese will leak out during cooking!) 

Brush the patties with the remaining oil and grill over medium-high heat until cooked through, 5 to 6 minutes per side. Let the patties rest for 2 minutes. Place the patties in the buns and serve, plain or with tzatziki sauce (below).

Easy Tzatziki (based on Claire Robinson/Food Network’s recipe)

1 cup Greek yogurt (I used low fat so I could pretend it was healthy)
~8” length of seedless cucumber, peeled, shredded, and drained
2 tsp minced garlic
1 tbsp lemon juice
2 tbsp chopped fresh dill
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Shred the peeled cucumber using the finest side of a vegetable grater, drain on cutting board and blot with a few paper towels. Whisk together all ingredients, adding salt and pepper to taste. Serve chilled.

Greek Salmon (no source; this hardly even counts as a recipe!)

Salmon fillets, cut into single-serving pieces
olive oil
Greek seasoning (store-bought or from recipe below)

Brush fillets with oil and sprinkle generously with seasoning. Grill skin-side down for 3-4 minutes per side. Serve with tzatziki.

Greek Seasoning (based on allrecipes.com’s recipe)

1-1/2 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp dried thyme
½ tsp dried basil
½ tsp dried minced onion
¼ tsp garlic powder

Whisk all ingredients together. You can also add dried marjoram, mint, or even cinnamon and nutmeg to the mix!

Grilled Marinated Portobellos (based on treehugger.com)

Since I have several family members who prefer to eat vegetarian, I’m always on the lookout for delicious recipes using vegetarian proteins, and portobellos are one of my personal favorites. This recipe is light and delicious, with just a hint of tang from the balsamic vinegar. The mushrooms can be served burger-style on a bun with greens and tomato, but I love them simply as is.

4 portobello mushrooms
¼ cup balsamic vinegar
1 tbsp dried basil
1 tbsp dried oregano
1 tsp minced garlic
pinch each of salt and pepper

Wash mushrooms and pat dry, then gently pull off the stems. Place gill side up in a shallow dish.

Whisk together remaining ingredients and pour over mushrooms, including pouring some into the base of the dish. Marinade for about 15 minutes.

Pour off and reserve excess marinade and grill, gill side up, over medium-high heat for 5-8 minutes per side, until tender. Brush occasionally with marinade.

And to wrap up this list, my favorite summer salad, which is so delicious that it’s practically a dessert: Triple Treat Salad!

Triple Treat Salad (I have no idea where this recipe originated; it’s been floating around my family for decades)

2-3 heads of broccoli, cut into bite-size pieces (florets only)
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
1 package pre-cooked bacon, crisped and crumbled
½ cup light mayonnaise
4 tablespoons sugar
4 tablespoons red wine vinegar

Toss together broccoli, cheese, and bacon in a large bowl and set aside. Whisk together mayo, sugar, and vinegar until nearly smooth; adjust amounts to taste. Pour dressing over salad and toss well to coat. Marinate in refrigerator several hours to overnight, tossing occasionally if possible. 

Bon appetit!!

The 2015 Tony Awards: Red Carpet Review

Last night was the biggest night on Broadway: the annual Tony Awards! Co-hosted by Alan Cumming and Kristin Chenoweth, the ceremony was surprisingly bland, as – for the most part – were the red carpet fashions. But there were a few looks worth mentioning. Just for a change of pace, I’m breaking them into categories by guests, attendees, presenters, nominees, and winners.

Guests:

As the non-celebrity spouse or guest of a celebrity, it can’t be easy to walk that fine line between dressing well enough to not look out of place but not well enough to overshadow the star (or to look like you’re trying too hard to join the celebrity ranks). Several spouses did a particularly fine job of treading that line last night.

Robin Dearden, on the arm of a beautifully tuxedoed Bryan Cranston, chose a long, Asian-inspired black column with silver and blue patterning, sheer sleeves, and thigh-high side slits, paired with sparkly chandelier earrings and matching clutch. Flattering, interesting, and nicely accessorized, this look hit just the right notes.

Daena Title, on the arm of Jason Alexander, wowed in this soft gray and silver off-the-shoulder gown echoing her stylish hair, accessorized with a black lace wrap and fabulous silver sandals. The color, cut, and accessories are simple but lovely and flowy. A perfect way to go Bohemian chic.

Attendees:

Vanessa Hudgens’ huge poppy print halter gown with full skirt, paired with a feminine braided coronet hairstyle and coordinating lip color, was fresh and flattering. A lovely youthful yet mature look.

I loved Emily Ratajkowski’s deep blue gown. The broad criss-cross of the bodice is sexy but not overly revealing, the gathered lines at the waist soften the straight silhouette, and the detailing along the side seams is absolutely gorgeous. Unfortunately, the belt is sitting about an inch lower than it should be, and the straight skirt should be skimming the floor, not puddling on it.

Amber Valletta’s look was unusual and chic. I loved the starkness of the short sheath paired with softness of the long, angled side drape. My only objection is that the bodice is cut so low that it looks like it’s about to slip off, and the buckle right at the point of her bust draws attention to an odd spot.

Nicole Warne’s ice blue, ballet-inspired gown featured gorgeous lace and beading at the waist and down the tulle skirt, and the bodice was beautifully fitted, but the long sleeves and high neck are a bit too prissy for the overall look. Perhaps a bit of beading at the neck or a neckline with a bit more visual interest could have turned this “nice” look into a terrific look.

Presenters:

Presenters, generally past Tony winners, also have to walk the fine line of presenting themselves well without overshadowing the winners to whom they are presenting.

Host Kristin Chenoweth wore this clingy silver column on the red carpet, but then proceeded to have about a dozen costume changes over the course of the evening. I liked this column with the exception of the overplumped look of her cleavage. It flatters her curves and is well-proportioned to her tiny frame, although I would have loved to see a tiny pop of color in a bit of jewelry, such as a cuff bracelet or a short necklace. But my favorite look of the evening on her was the deep red bias-cut satin gown she wore towards the end of the broadcast. I loved the “corkscrew” look carried out from the shoulder strap, through the gathers on the bodice, the seaming across the hip, and the drape around the skirt. Her hair was a complete disaster but the gown was stunning.

Presenter Rose Byrne’s scarlet gown had a lovely silhouette and interesting draped shoulder details, but the lines of the open bodice looked a bit droopy. If only that zipper had gone up another 6 or 8 inches, this gown would have been stunning.

At first glance, I found Sutton Foster’s gown to be a bit casual, due to the soft fabric. But the warm chocolate color of the bodice fading in graceful ripples into peachy-pink at the full hem grew on me, particularly when I saw how beautifully it moved. And it suits her personality, which always makes a dress come to life, for me.

Presenting as a team with her father, the legendary Joel Grey, Jennifer Grey’s white column kept its details limited to the texture, with rich lace cascading into subtle eyelash fuzz from the knees to the hem. Paired with natural makeup and simple beach waves in her sun-kissed hair, she looked classic and elegant.

Showing how NOT to do a lacy white gown, Kiesza’s white disaster overused textures, looking torn and papery and disproportionate and just a general mess, and her exaggerated cats-eye eyeliner and asymmetrical curly updo did not work with it at all. At least she seemed delighted with her look.

Presenter Jennifer Lopez is a good example of how important the fit of a gown is. The lines, color, fabric, and detailing of this midnight-blue gown with gold sparkling stars are all absolutely stunning, but the bodice looks uncomfortably stiff and tight and ruins the effect. But points for the dark lipstick, retro hairstyle, and diamond bracelet.

Bernadette Peters was yet another argument for the importance of good fit. You can’t stuff 10 pounds of sugar into a 5-pound bag, or you get all those crinkles across your midsection. Few people other than Bernadette could have pulled off this unusual color, and if the gown had been just a bit less cinched, it could have been one of the best looks of the night.

Presenter Phylicia Rashad also chose a flattering color for her, in an iridescent deep blue-purple gown and matching long jacket. The flared cuffs were a bit too full for my taste, but I loved the sapphire choker. A flattering and elegant look for an older star.

Presenter Amanda Seyfried opted for a short dress rather than a gown, in a pretty black and metallic gold print. I liked the dress, but its stark cut and color needed softer hair and makeup to offset it and dress it up a bit. The severity of the look aged her.

The concept of Ashley Tisdale’s look was great: A structured avant garde flared halter paired with full pants. Unfortunately, the halter was too stiff to be flattering, the pleats in the pants didn’t fall right, creating odd lines as she moved, the high waist looked old-mannish – and paired with the mere peep of midsection, looked like a mistake. 

I loved a lot of the individual details of Rita Wilson’s dress, but there were just too many and too much. Too shiny fabric, too wavy lines, too deep cutouts. Making it into a sleeveless halter would remove much of the “overdoneness” and could have turned it into a stunner.

Jennifer Nettles’ champagne-colored, Grecian-styled gown had just enough unexpected details to keep it from being bland, including an asymmetrical angled bodice and an eye-catching brooch on the strap. Chandelier earrings, a delicate diamond bracelet, and a high-fronted updo completed her elegant look. \

Nominees:

Best Actress in a Musical nominee Leanne Cope wore one of my favorite looks of the evening, this stunning silvery-gray, fitted to the hip, flared, tea-length halter. The bare shoulders and clean lines show off her perfect skin and dramatic coloring. I love her simple hairstyle and clean makeup. She’d look great wearing a burlap sack, but this gown won the evening.

Best Featured Actress in a Musical nominee Victoria Clark wore a lovely midnight blue gown, with a fitted bodice with lacy cutouts and a gauzy full skirt which moved beautifully. A great dramatic look.

Ten-year-old Best Featured Actress nominee Sydney Lucas looked grown up yet age-appropriate in a lovely tea-length white textured gown paired with gold ballet flats, a flippy bob, and the world’s happiest smile. What a delight she was, both performing on stage and beaming on the red carpet.

Best Featured Actress in a Play nominee Patricia Clarkson let the gorgeous fabric itself be the star of her tea-length, A-line gown with simple round neckline didn’t need any accessories other than the matching clutch (which she was obviously delighted about) and red lipstick. A prime example of less is more.

Best Actress in a Play nominee Elisabeth Moss looked spectacular in a snow-white halter dress with bright flowers cascading from the bodice. Clean lines and a perfect fit made for a perfect look.

Fellow Best Actress in a Play nominee Ruth Wilson wore a vivid magenta gown with a tightly-fitted, T-shirt-styled top, flaring low at the hips into a full skirt. The bodice was too simple and unadorned – perhaps a v-neck or even a long pendant could have broken it up – and the clashing shade of lipstick just didn’t work for me.

Yet another Best Actress in a Play nominee, Carey Mulligan, dealt with the difficulties of finding maternity red carpet wear. This burgundy gown, with its pretty, arched neckline and smooth but loose-fitting cascade over her baby bump, adorned only by a stack of bangle bracelets, looked comfortable and stylish.

Winners:

Annaleigh Ashford took home the Tony for Best Actress in a Play wearing this lime green gown with a tightly-fitted bodice with a sweetheart neckline and a puffed skirt. Her minimal accessories and makeup and simple hairstyle of cascading curls turned what could have been an overdone look into an eye-catching and flattering win.

As always, Best Leading Actress in a Play winner Helen Mirren stunned in this long, clinging white gown with short train and lovely lace detailing at the deep V neckline and waist and in the draped sleeves. Smooth sleek hair and subtle makeup completed her elegant look. There truly is nothing like a Dame.

And finally, Best Actress in a Musical winner, Kelli O’Hara, looked beautiful in a tea-length gold lace dress paired with long waved hair, minimal makeup, and strappy sandals, which she used to “shuffle off to Buffalo” at the end of her acceptance speech. Utterly delightful all around.

So maybe there weren’t many stunners or stinkers on the red carpet at this year’s Tonys, but there were lots of smiles and plenty of talent. Extra bonus points to the producers for having all the casts who performed join Josh Groban and the orchestra on stage for the end of the In Memoriam segment. That was my favorite moment of the entire broadcast, and I hope it becomes a tradition for future Tonys!

June Is Not Quite Bustin' Out All Over

Even if you’re not a Rodgers and Hammerstein fan, even if you’re not a musical theatre fan at all, you probably know (or at least, have heard) the song, “June Is Bustin’ Out All Over” from the musical Carousel.

The clip above shows what you expect to see in June in New England: bright sunshine, people in shirtsleeves, a light breeze, happiness all around. Even in real life, June is a time of year when you can actually imagine a bunch of people randomly breaking into song and dance for no particular reason. The lyric at about 2:10 sums up our expectations of the spring into summer transition here in New England: “March went out like a lion, a-whippin’ up the water in the bay. Then April cried and stepped aside, and along come pretty little May. May was full of promises, but she didn’t keep ‘em quick enough for some, and a crowd of doubtin’ Thomases was predictin’ that the summer’d never come. But it’s comin’, by gum! You can feel it come! You can feel it in your heart, you can see it in the ground, you can hear it in the trees, you can smell it in the breeze. Look around! Look around! Look around!” And then of course, it goes into the best-known line from the well-known chorus, and the very title of the song itself: “June is bustin’ out all over!”

But June hasn’t quite busted out anywhere around these parts yet. Today is a rather April-ish June, with cold temperatures, cloudy skies, and dreary rain. Instead of short sleeves and sandals, we’re all donning our rain slickers and galoshes. We’ve traded in our iced coffees for steaming mugs of joe. We’re pushing the “heated seats” button in our cars instead of the “A/C” button. The colorful flowers in the garden are sagging under the heavy rain and looking like they’d like to bust right back into the ground.

And yet, with the silence of the air conditioner that ISN’T running in my window, I can hear a whole flock of determined birds happily chirping outside. When I peek through the rain-streaked window, I can see my little neighborhood bunny happily nibbling on the damp grass, looking not the slightest bit deterred by the weather.

Maybe it’s because they don’t have calendars so they don’t quite realize that today is the first day of June. After all, last week was full of gorgeous warm days, days when I admired how quickly my impatiens had started to spread, noticing that our grass had thickened up and was ready to be mowed, happy at how much the ivy and the grapevine on the fence and spread and created a pretty green privacy hedge by the pool. If I wasn't expecting a beautiful day today merely by virtue of the fact that it's June first, I wouldn't be disappointed, either.

But maybe they just remember that the cool, damp, dreary weather makes us all, plants and animals and humans alike, appreciate the warm, dry, sunny weather ahead all the more. So I’ll try to hang in there for another few days, and I’ll keep hoping that before I know it, June really WILL be bustin’ out all over!!

Chasing Your Muse

I love to write. Words give me a sense of both freedom and control in a way that nothing in my life ever has (or ever will, I suspect). I spend as much time writing inside my head as I do writing on a computer screen or on a page. And when I don’t get those words out and into some written format, they stay in a confused jumble inside my head and drive me crazy.

So the fact that I haven’t been blogging much over the past month or two is making me feel very sad. And incomplete. And lonely. And guilty.

I will admit that my 40 days of Lenten blogging both excited and drained me. I loved the exercise of having to write on a given topic (one not of my own choosing) every single day. I loved the challenge of taking a photograph based on a phrase or concept and then having to write something about it. As an intellectual challenge, I found it thrilling, and exciting, and invigorating. And yet, at the same time, finding time to both write and take an appropriate photograph was a very difficult challenge. I often felt a sense of guilt, as if I were abandoning time spent with my children in favor of time spent writing a blog entry. Every day was a trade-off; every day I had to give something up in order to find the time to write a blog.

For 40 days, I struggled with a sense of guilt, a sense that I was spending time on something frivolous when I should have been focusing on my children. My children, who give me a sense, not of freedom and control, but of purpose and meaning. And the fact that I had been neglecting them in order to write also made me feel very sad. And incomplete. And lonely. And guilty.

But aren’t both writing and parenting a trade-off? Don’t they both require a kind of separation, a kind of breaking away? Writing requires breaking away from the world around you and giving yourself time to get inside your own head. And parenting requires breaking away from all the demands of everyday life (laundry, showers, grocery shopping, making dinner) to focus on your children. Both are continual, constant demands. Neglecting either of those roles, writer or parent, results in a sense of guilt, or lost time, or missing a moment that will never happen again. Both the muse and the childhoods are fleeting.

I spent the 40 days of Lent responding to the muse; I spent the days since responding to the children. And now I am trying to respond once again to the call of the muse, but hopefully without sacrificing too much time with my children. I am trying to let my children be an inspiration rather than an impediment. I am trying to blend both my passions by letting my children serve as my muse and my inspiration.

And that is truly what my children are: an inspiration. They inspire me to be not only a better parent, but also a better human being. In the words of Stephen Sondheim, “Children will look to you for which way to turn, to learn what to be…careful before you say, ‘Listen to me.’ Children will listen.” Even when I don’t mean for them to watch me, to imitate me, to learn from me, to listen to me, they do. They say what I say and do what I do. If I mutter a nasty remark about another driver, my son will ask me about it. If I criticize my daughter about something, she will repeat that criticism. I don’t get to pick and choose the behaviors that my children imitate. They imitate everything they see, so I need to be careful – and aware – of what they see.

And because of that, I continue to write. Because I want them to follow their muse. I want them to chase their passion. I want them to do what they love, even if they find that it requires sacrificing something else. I want them to learn – from me, or from anywhere else – that it is worth giving up some things in order to do what you love, what excites you, what you have passion for. I want them to find their own muse, and to follow her. Because wherever she leads them, it will be a wonderful place. 

What I Really Wanted (and Got) for Mother’s Day

For the past week, I’ve been seeing articles up the wazoo proclaiming lists of “what moms REALLY want for Mother’s Day.” The lists often include “nots,” like not chocolate (ugh, the calories), not flowers (ugh, the allergies), not horrible children-made meals involving burnt toast and germy scrambled eggs complete with bits of shell (just plain ugh). But one of the most popular “wants” is actually wanting to get AWAY from her children.

Oh, the irony.

But I understand it. I totally do. As much as I love my children, I’ll be the first to admit that they can be exhausting, especially for a mom like me, who could be described as “tightly-wound” (and that’s being generous). When I’m with my kids, I’m hyperconscious of their every move. I want to be sure they’re not being too loud, that they’re using good manners, that they’re not getting in the way of people around us, that they’re not annoying anyone, that they’re not touching anything they shouldn’t, that they’re not getting into trouble, that they’re not wiping their nose on a stranger’s sleeve. 

So what I want to get away from on Mother’s Day is not my children; it’s being IN CHARGE OF my children. What I wanted for Mother’s Day this year was the chance to enjoy my children without having to worry about taking care of them. So when my husband (who had also read all those “what moms really want” articles) offered to take the kids somewhere for the day and leave me alone, that’s what I told him: I want to spend the day together as a family, but I don’t want to be in charge of anyone except myself. So that’s exactly what we did.

After church, we went out to lunch, and my husband ordered for the kids. (I will admit that I couldn’t help myself and I prompted them both to tell the waitress their orders and to say “thank you” when she brought their food. Some habits are hard to break.) He dealt with the mini-meltdown that resulted when he told them it was time to put the Kindles away and eat their lunch. When we got back home after lunch, he put my daughter down for her nap and helped my son put on his swimsuit, and he was the one who was responsible for making sure he was safe in the pool (not an easy job with DangerBoy seriously overestimating his swimming abilities). When my daughter woke up, my husband brought her down and got her ready for pool time, then supervised both of them while I lounged in the sunshine, enjoying watching all three of them as well as the random cat who wandered by and joined me in lounging in the sunshine.

It was the best present I could have gotten. It reminded me why I love being a mom so much: it’s because I really do enjoy my kids. And when I get a moment to shed the stress of constantly watching over them, keeping them safe, teaching them how to be pleasant, mannerly human beings, I realize how much I really do enjoy them, and how much I enjoy being their mom.

And isn’t that what Mother’s Day is for?

R.I.P. Familiar Stranger

I once read a comment that home is where you see familiar strangers: people that you don’t know, but that you recognize. The neighbor who always walks her German shepherd at 7:00am. The mailman who waves at you as you head off to work. The cashier at Dunk’s. The guy down the street who mows his lawn wearing Bermuda shorts and green crocs at precisely 6:30pm every Thursday all summer. You don’t really know them, but you recognize them.

When I was growing up, back in the 1970s, before political correctness, when mental illness was something to be laughed at or feared, there was a familiar stranger whom everyone in town “knew,” called Crazy Mike. Rumors abounded about Crazy Mike. Some said he was homeless, some said he was a Vietnam veteran whose mind had snapped during the war, some said he was a dangerous lunatic, some said he was a harmless loudmouth, some said he was just a lazy drunk. I often saw him walking around town, occasionally coming into a store, sometimes muttering to himself, often yelling at anyone who confronted him, but always leaving peacefully when asked to by store managers. When I was in high school, I worked in one of those stores – a store that happened to provide free coffee to customers. Mike came inside frequently when I was working, often wandering around with his coffee in hand, muttering to himself. He made me a little nervous, but any time I caught his eye, he’d give me a little nod of acknowledgement, and continue on his way. The only time I ever saw him yell at anyone was when he was out on the sidewalk and some teenagers started hassling him. I never saw him yell at a customer inside the store, and the managers – even a couple of them whom I didn’t consider very nice – only rarely asked him to move along, and always made sure he had a fresh cup of coffee before he left.

I never saw Mike sleeping on the streets at night, so I figured he had either a home or a shelter to go to. Although he was unkempt, he was rarely truly dirty, and occasionally appeared with a fresh haircut or a trimmed beard, so apparently he had some resources for – and interest in - hygiene. I was curious about his story, but I never bothered to find out what it was. I was afraid to ask. And I was not alone. Most people guessed about his background, or assumed they knew what it was, but very few people ever bothered to find out the true story, or to be sure that Mike was getting the help he needed.

Yesterday, Crazy Mike was found dead on a city street. And suddenly, but slowly, we are finding out at least some of the true story of his life.

Michael Nicoloro was, indeed, an Army veteran. He had parents and a brother who lived locally. Mike did suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder rooted in his service during the Vietnam war. He took medication for it – sometimes. Sometimes it was stolen from him, sometimes he simply refused to take it. Who knows what exactly was going through his head over the last 40 years? Was he aware that something was wrong? Did he want help? Was he contented with who he was? Was he afraid of his demons or were they just a part of his normal reality? Most of us don’t know, because we never asked. We looked at Mike, and only saw the crazy. We didn’t see the man behind the crazy. We didn’t see the man before the crazy. We never tried to make the familiar stranger not a stranger.

I pray that Mike is now at peace, his traumatic memories gone. I pray that his family is comforted after their double loss – not only the loss of Mike’s life, but of his chance to be mentally healthy in this lifetime. I pray that Mike’s story will make me, and all of those who “knew” him, think twice when we look at someone who seems crazy. Every crazy person has parents, and a past, and a story. Every crazy person is a person, despite the crazy. Every crazy person deserves to have their story told.

I only wish that Mike’s story had been told sooner. Maybe then, he’d have become familiar instead of just a stranger.

Rest in peace, Mike. Rest in the peace you never found here on earth. Rest in peace.