My Sister Soul Mate

If women can have “soul mates” I have one. Although, just for the record, I’ve never bought into that whole “soul mate” thing for couples. I don’t think there is one and only one person meant for you in life. And no one completes me but me.

But I digress.

I had a far too quick, chatter-filled, laughter-filled lunch with my sister yesterday. Not my biological sister; my sister by marriage. I got some real bonuses when I married the mister and Chris is just about the best one. When Chris walks into a room the room comes to life. And life is suddenly brighter. The energy is palpable. She lives in Canada so we don’t get to see each other as often as we’d like and sometimes don’t even speak for months. But when we meet the conversation resumes as if we had just spoken five minutes ago. And we constantly step on each other’s words. There is just too much to say!

“What have you written lately?” “What’s the status on the book?” (We’re both writers; she a poet and me, well, you know me.)

“How was Manhattan?” “What did you do in Vegas?” (We both love to travel.)

“Show me your latest photos.” “I need some note cards!” (She’s my biggest cheerleader.)

“I love that bag! Where did you get it?” “And speaking of bags, when are you going to design some?” (We’re girls! We both love unusual bags, clothes, shoes, etc.)

“What has the puppy chewed up recently?” (We both love animals and have a few in our lives.)

“Where are you finding your inspiration these days?” (We’re both creative souls.)

“What are the kids up to?” (We’re both Moms w/grown children.)

You get the idea. That’s a lot to pack into just a couple of hours and we always leave each other with so much more to say. But as we said our good byes and “I love yous” and “email mes!” I was struck by how lucky I am. How lucky I am that this brilliant spirit so full of energy and laughter and endless imagination came into my life.

And how delightful to leave a person always wanting more…

One of Those Aha! Moments

What is so interesting about life is that if you are truly aware you’re constantly learning things ~ even when you don’t realize it at the time. Sometimes it takes me a few hours (or days; ok, sometimes years) to have that “a-ha!” moment.

I had one today. As I typically do on the weekends, I had Food Network on in the background while I was doing some still life shots. This afternoon’s programming was more interesting than usual. They ran back to back episodes of “Chefography” ~ biographies of Food Network stars. Call me snoopy, but I like learning about people’s backgrounds; and surprisingly, a lot of these people have really fascinating ones. Inspiring, in fact.

The one “star” I didn’t know much about because I don’t really watch her show is Nigella Lawson. She’s that amazingly beautiful British woman with the huge brown eyes. She certainly has suffered more than her share of losses… first her mother at a very young age; her sister at a younger age and her husband, also at a young age. In hearing her story the one thing that stuck with me was something her mother said when learning of her terminal diagnosis. She said [paraphrasing], “Well, I finally feel I can eat anything I want.”

How sad, I thought. A few hours later I had my Aha! moment. I have food issues.

Because that would probably be my first reaction on hearing my life would end soon. I can finally eat all the fabulous comfort foods (mashed potatoes in abundance springs to mind) and all the desserts I deprive myself of (omg even just an ice cream cone would thrill me!). I can’t blame my Mom. Mom – aside from being the original green recycler – has also had incredibly healthy eating habits for as long as I can remember. She was never one to eat huge meals; she eats small, healthy bites of things (with a tiny bits of sweets thrown in for good measure) and slowly grazes throughout the day. This is the woman who is active and more alert than me; she'll be 89 in September. My Dad, on the other hand, was overweight for as long as I can remember. He developed diabetes – mostly because of his weight and unhealthy eating habits – and lived his last 20 years dealing with the consequences of that disease.

But I remember how my Mom struggled to get him to eat healthier and how he resisted. All the arguing. All the trips Dad made to the kitchen as soon as Mom went to bed to raid whatever cookies or cakes happened to be hiding. Yes, she hid them. Because Mom’s true love was baking. And she was very good at it. It was her way of relaxing after a day of raising five kids and working nights as a nurse. But she knew portion size before the media ever termed it that. Dad didn’t.

So although I never felt any real pressure growing up to watch my weight or eat healthy, I was very aware of food. And unlike my Dad, I watch the scale religiously. And I get blood tests every year to be sure my glucose level is in line. Because I have seen what it’s like to live with diabetes and insulin shots and I don’t ever want to go there.

That being said, I feel as though I’m postponing my life. I do love good food and I love the socialization that quite often goes with that. I feel as though I’m constantly depriving myself. I project my apprehensions and concerns about food and weight onto those around me. And that just leads to confrontations and bad feelings; or I end up harbouring those feelings and that’s not good either.

I am ruled by numbers ~ those numbers on the scale. And although my head knows it’s not about the numbers, it’s about just living a healthy life ~ I can’t seem to get past the numbers. And I know it’s not healthy ~ mentally or physically. And I just keep wondering… what will it take to shake me out of this mindset??

And wrapping it all up in a neat bow, I reflect on the Food Network stars I enjoy ~ Ina Garten and Paula Deen spring to mind; Nigella’s got beautiful curves, too. Why do I like them? Because they laugh all the time. They seem to literally and figuratively take a big bite out of life and just love every minute of it. They all have loving families and friends and spouses. They are all hugely successful doing what they love. And guess what? None of them are a perfect size 8.

Is there a lesson there? Or am I looking for excuses? Why do I think I should weigh the same as I did at 25? Or am I looking for excuses?

Distant Seas Are Calling Me

Today is the first day I’ve felt somewhat normal (I realize that is a relative term) and less “pressurized” in probably a month. We’ve done all we need to do as far as taking steps into our future (house-wise, etc.). Now it’s just a waiting game. Which in itself can be a certain torture. I’m ready to hang my next show tomorrow. At least I hope it’ll be tomorrow. All the marketing/supporting materials are printed. I even found myself w/some extra time today to do more than I had expected.

I miss having my head free. Free to shoot what presents itself (and not forcing it); free to write what drifts into my mind (and not force it). I think I’ve decided I’m a free spirit and the details that life forces me to address are a huge distraction to what I really want to – need to – be doing. I long to travel… the road and the seas are calling me. That is what fuels my creative fires. And is becoming increasingly apparent to me ~

I need a wife.

It's All Good

I feel as though I’m living in some parallel universe. Things I have wanted for so long are finally, maybe, hopefully coming to fruition. Part of me thinks I don’t deserve the good things coming my way; part of me tells myself that patience and hard work and endurance pay off. Its kharma, dude. And then there’s that other part of me that whispers nothing’s over until it’s over.

Echoes of the past tell me to not get cocky; don’t get a big head; keep a low profile; don’t count your chickens; stay under the radar. So many voices ~ some I respect, some not so much.

It kind of freaks me out to see for sale signs on my house. But in the same thought, it makes me smile. It really makes me smile having a super clean house. But then it freaks me out keeping it that way 24/7. I’m starting to pack up my beloved books and cameras and the memories I want to carry forward. And it is finally time to say goodbye to some of the past. Yesterday found me tearing up divorce papers from another lifetime. Bags are being unpacked in the same breath as the bags are being packed. It’s time. It’s all good.

Well, all good except for the hot flashes and the heart palpitations that invade my sleep almost every morning around 4:00. I thought it was anxiety attacks. Well, some of them are, but not all. May be TMI for the guys, but the gals will understand. After my surgery 3 years ago (wow, I just realized almost exactly three years ago to the day), I was given a magic little blue pill that saved me from the grips of menopause. I floated thru the next couple of years feeling as free as a bird ~ what’s all this brouhaha about menopause? That was until I saw my doctor the other day. We discussed the controversy surrounding HRT recently and decided that we would cut my already extremely low dosage in half; which is almost like taking nothing, but better than going cold turkey. I’m not sure better for whom, but not me.

But, again - in a way - I feel like I haven’t been paying my dues and I should. It’s not fatal; just a little uncomfortable for a little while. And now that I’ve realized the heart palpitations are most likely not an impending heart attack, I think I’ll have fewer of them. The mind can do wondrous things…

The Art of Being Kind

My Mom’s brother died yesterday. She lost two brothers previously. One was injured in a car accident as a youth and, with a broken back, went on to live a productive life from his wheelchair. The other died at age 17 when he fell from a barn and broke his neck. She also lost two sisters ~ one from cancer who died in her 70’s. The other who, after surviving the death of two children and her husband, went on to live a productive and independent life ~ with a great sense of humour ~ even after a sudden onset of blindness in her 70’s, died at age 93 in the arms of hospice.

My Mom is 88 years old and the epitome of health and positive attitude. She has survived all those losses, as well as the passing of her husband of 62 years. How does one do that and still remain positive?? She is my role model and my hero. When I spoke with her and she shared the news of Uncle Art’s passing, I remarked, “Wow… It’s you and Myrt now (her only remaining sibling); hang on to each other!”

I get so caught up in my own little life and all that I have going on… when something like this comes into it I have to give pause. Pause for where I came from. Pause for what good people I grew up amongst. No, they weren’t talkative folks. Nor were they affectionate folks. No, they didn’t cure cancer. They were hard working, god fearing, good people. If sociologists were to look at my life they would say I came from “good stock.”

That came home to me so strongly tonight when my Mom called me to let me know about Uncle Art’s death. She never calls me; I call her. Mom grew up in the Great Depression. Phone calls are a luxury. She was the original recycler. She could teach the so-called “Green People” a thing or two. She knows everything about how to conserve, recycle and make the most of what you’ve got. So ~ making a long distance call is a luxury; not how we look at it today.

So when Mom calls I know someone has died. Seriously. But when she called tonight to tell me of Uncle Art’s passing, it wasn’t her usual 5 minute conversation. We talked for 20 minutes. I knew she needed to talk and she knew she did, too.

And it brought it all home to me. What is important in life. Yes, we just put an offer on a house. Yes, we just put ours on the market and we have a thousand things to do. Yes the kids are getting married in a few months and excitement and anticipation abounds.

But a life of a good and decent and sweet and honorable man has passed. And that needs to be recognized. It’s not always about me.

Here’s to you, Uncle Art ~ I will remember you always as the gentle, smiling, reverent, sweet person that you were. You were so much like my Grandpa John, your Dad ~ a quiet soul who brought so much beauty into this world. I can’t pass a marigold without thinking of Grandpa John…

Kind is a word one doesn’t hear much anymore, let alone being put into practice. It just doesn’t come up in conversation. Kindness may be a lost “art.” But that it is how I will remember you, Uncle Art ~ as a kind and gentle soul. God bless you.

Gearing Up

I realized tonight that I don’t write much on the weekends. And it’s not that the weekends are really any different than the weekdays for me; so I’m not sure why. Today was certainly a do nothing day for me. One of the laziest Sundays I’ve had in a long time. I did make yummy breakfast burritos (I’m totally hooked on fat free tortillas ~ they come in all sizes and you can do so much with them!); and I actually prepared dinner, too – a weight watchers’ chicken pot pie which is in the oven right now.

I think my subconscious is working for me. Somewhere in this scattered brain of mine (see previous post; sheesh.) I know I need to start stock-piling energy for the months ahead. I’m going to need to go into “training” of sorts to be ready to operate at my highest functionality possible, and soon. We’re honing in on a new house and if things work out, my life is going to get very, very busy very, very quickly. And five months from today one of the happiest days of my life will occur – my son and his beautiful fiancé will be married. Even though they are planning their wedding with minimal help from Mom and Dad, there’s much to think about between then and now.

The saving grace? Everything that lies ahead is bursting with excitement, unmitigated joy and new beginnings. And I know that is where I’ll find my energy to do all that will be required of me.

But for now, I’m putting my feet up and vegging. O, and surfing the net and buying toy cameras that I hope do what they say they'll do... like I'll have time to experiment in the next few months... what am i thinking?

It's Age

I am the luckiest person ever because after years and years of working in jobs just to buy groceries (meaning they were for the most part ordinary and mundane), I was able to stop workin’ for the man and pursue my own interests on my own time. Which means I am in charge of my schedule each day. And that is the greatest gift anyone could give me because I am not exactly a morning person (unfortunately a trait I think I passed on to my children…).

So even though my days start fairly early, I approach them at my own pace. For instance – it is 9:50 am as I’m writing this and I’m still in my walking sweats. I woke up at 6:00. Watched the news from bed for 30 minutes while chatting up the mister. Spent some time reviewing emails; posted a couple of photos to Flickr; walked the dog (or should I say slid the dog). Came home and swore a little because it’s snowing again and wasn’t supposed to and I’m really sick of winter. Ran downstairs to start the laundry (biggest thing I’m looking forward to in a new house? Laundry facilities on the main or second level!). Ate a weight watcher type grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast ~ there are ways to make it low cal, low fat. I was super hungry because I didn’t eat much last night. Listened to the Today Show for awhile; switched over to Rachel Ray for awhile. Chastised the dog for eating the cat’s catfood again. I got them both new food – chicken flavored Iams and Simba was quite taken with hers until she tasted A-choo’s. Now she prefers A-choo’s. *sigh*

So, you get the drift of how my mornings begin. Yesterday went much the same ~ with one exception… I was happily emailing a friend in California, still in my walking (sliding) sweats after folding some laundry (yes, it is a never-ending task) when my little date reminder in Outlook popped up saying I had an appointment in 10 minutes. With my Doctor. Who charges $50 if you miss an appointment. Omg I absolutely panicked. My heart literally picked up an alarming pace… I clicked into the message and had a slight, very slight, relief when I saw that I had built in a 30 minute cushion ~ the appointment wasn’t at 10:30, but at 11:00. But it was 10:25 and I needed to shower and dress and drive to the office.

My problem? I had thought all week that my appointment was Friday. Nope. It was Thursday. Long story short, I made it on time (thank goodness the office is only about 7 minutes from the house). But I did have to explain the baseball cap – no time to wash my hair. Scary-looking hair. So as I was explaining to the Doc (whom I’ve been seeing for 20 years) why the baseball cap, he said, “So you were planning to come in on Saturday?”

I just looked at him.

He stopped for a second and said, “See, now you’ve got me doing it. You know what they call that? Age.”

And then he gave me grief for not getting the colonoscopy he’s been telling me to get for the last two years.

Talk about age!