Tag: middle age

The Sound of Water

“Two waterfalls do not hear each other.” – u.fo Twitter

I don’t know what this says about me, but I had to look up the meaning of the above proverb, to be sure that I was understanding it. The proverb is saying that when two beings are being loud, endlessly making noise, there is no real communication happening. It is impossible to really “hear” and digest what is being said when everyone is talking at once.

My husband likes to hear our family’s chatter. Sometimes, I ask him why he is being so quiet and he says he just likes to “hear” our family. A couple of days ago, one of my meditations talked about how soothing the sound of water is to our hearts and souls. It’s so true. Think of all of the different sounds water makes. The trickle of a small fountain, the rush of the tide, rain hitting the roof, bubbly brooks flowing down a mountain, the filling of a bath tub with the anticipation of how good the water will feel against our skin are all the beautiful, unique nuances of the sound of water. The sound of water is incredibly therapeutic and available to all of us. If we just listen . . .

I guess the sound of water is like all things, best in moderation. The sound of two large, crashing waterfalls would become deafening after a while. But if we didn’t have all of the lovely sounds water makes, the silence could be deafening, too.

“The sound of water says what I think.” -Zhuangzi

“I first noticed how the sound of water is like the talk of human voices, and would sometimes wake in the night and listen, thinking that a crowd of people were coming through the woods.” – Freya Stark

Smack Dab in the Middle

We are at the halfway point of our home renovation project. We are at the crescendo point, where every bit of fatigue and frustration with the whole thing is meeting at a head and ready to explode. There is no turning back. You can only keep your eye on the prize – the end result. It’s like being halfway through earning an advanced degree or being halfway through a pregnancy. It’s like being a little over 13 miles on marathon day. It’s like Christmas break for seniors in high school. The end is not close enough in sight, for real hope or for that last, exciting burst of energy. But the beginning is far enough away, that there is no turning back.

Yesterday, the swirling ball of frustration and the “Will this ever end?” drama cloaked me in a gray cloud of doom. I feel sorry for anyone who had contact with me yesterday. Please accept my apologies. I am just getting a little tired of sharing a powder room with my daughter and having half of my bedroom being encased in a plastic tent. I keep peeking through the plastic, half expecting to see scientists working on E.T. or for Walter White from Breaking Bad to be cooking up some meth in what used to be my ridiculously ugly, yet intact and usable 1980s bathroom. But all I see now are bare naked walls and a project that feels like it is moving at a snail’s pace – a snail who is taking a nap.

I have been through long renovations before in other homes that we have owned. I thought that I had prepared myself and set my expectations correctly. But just like any long, arduous, expensive project one decides to partake on, you can never fully be prepared. It is best to just keep a stiff upper lip and carry out the old British adage, “Keep Calm and Carry On.” Of course, one of my favorite coffee cups has the American version of this adage printed on it: “Now Panic and Freak Out.” I’m an American.

Learning to Let Go

My eldest son got a big promotion at his job and moved just outside of the Big Apple a couple of weeks ago. As much as my heart strings have had to stretch, I am very excited and proud for him to partake in this adventure of a lifetime! Of course, the protective mom part of me is always concerned for his well-being.

We have family that live in that part of the country, but they are still wintering down south and while our son has acquaintances who live up north, I am not aware of anyone he is particularly close to, being in close proximity to his new digs. His work associates are still new to him and they are busy with their own lives and families. My son moved into an apartment without any roommates for the first time in his life. He comes from a big family. Oh my goodness, he must be so lonely! He might be feeling existential grief! (In this paragraph, I’ve just let you peek into where my mind has been swirling the last couple of weeks, in regards to my eldest son.)

So, of course, we have been texting my son regularly and keeping up with his life’s happenings. Turns out he spent his birthday (Friday evening) in Manhattan with some work associates and by the looks of the pictures, he had a blast. He made it safely back to suburbia and texted us beautiful, scenic pictures of a hike he took on a trail not far from his home yesterday.

“Did you hike there all by yourself?” was my tentative text.

“No, I did it with a local hiking group. It was great!” he replied.

Many years ago, when we did our first major move for my husband’s job, we were busy unpacking our things. Our eldest son, a budding first grader announced loudly, “Okay, it’s time to get out and meet some people!”

When he was in college, my son spent a summer semester in a study abroad program, travelling all over Europe. He told us that the Australian kids were particularly fun and wild, staying out to all hours of the night.

“I wonder how he knows that, ” my friend said snidely with a coy look on her pursed lips.

My eldest son has always been a confident, adventurous soul who lives life on his own terms. He has always beat his own drum, and his life’s rhythm has always been an upbeat, interesting, unique, spirited sound. Perhaps I should let my own heart beat along with his drum, instead of the slow, fearful, hesitant, projection of a protective, grasping heartbeat belonging to a loving mother who is having to learn to let go . . . .

Bread Pudding and Curly Fries

My daughter asked us to explain what “bread pudding” was the other day. In explaining it to her (I don’t serve it typically, because frankly, I don’t like it), I started to think about the origins of food and how there are certain dishes that have been around forever, but in reality, some cook, somewhere, had to make to the first version of it.

When I looked up the origin of bread pudding, it turns out that it started in the 11th or 12th century, as a frugal cook’s way to not let stale bread go to waste. It was called “poor man’s pudding” in England for centuries. I grew up in Pittsburgh, where pierogies were a popular dish. The “poor man’s pudding” reminded me of a friend who used to slap mashed potatoes in-between lasagna noodles and exclaim, “There! “Poor Man’s Pierogies!”

When I was in high school, my friend’s parents owned a restaurant and sometimes they would let us take their tickets for the local “food show.” I never turned those tickets down! It was at one of those food conventions that I experienced “curly fries” for the first time. After eating my sample, I knew that they would be a hit with me and with everyone else, for the rest of my years!

Food is such a vital part of a community’s identity. When you go to certain parts of the country you just have to eat their local specialty, i.e. Philly Cheesesteaks, Chicago Deep-dish Pizza, Texas and Carolina BBQ, San Francisco sour dough bread, etc. And then when you go back home from a fun trip, full of food breaks, you desperately try to find a local restaurant who can best duplicate the original specialty cuisine. What’s your favorite Greek restaurant, Italian restaurant, Mexican restaurant, and/or Chinese restaurant? I bet we can all answer that question.

I guess I must be hungry right now to be pondering food so much. We have been celebrating birthdays and life with a lot of caloric gusto lately, so last night I told my husband I was just wanting to feast on some salad. So we split a nice, green-y salad and then we decided we might as well split a lobster BLT with some onion straws, for good measure. (We live in a part of the country that is known for good seafood.) Oh, well, baby steps . . . . into the kitchen . . .

Fly Away

Happy Birthday to the love of my life! My husband turns 50 today. Yesterday, I decided to make our rather torn up (due to renovations) house look a little more festive for his birthday, than its current “war zone” look. I went to the florist/balloon section of our local grocery store. There, they keep all of the mylar balloons in bags with pictures of what they look like. I picked a “5” and a “0” and I asked the florist to fill the balloons while I did the rest of my shopping. When I came back to get the balloons, imagine my surprise that these balloons are about 3 feet tall, each, when filled with helium!!

Now, I drive a small convertible. There was no way all of the groceries and the balloons were going to fit into my car with the top up. So, I had to put the top down. I had to weigh down the balloons with my purse and some heavy groceries and I had to drive home at the sludgy speed of a turtle. Drivers in my area of the country, are a bit aggressive and obtuse, so I literally had someone right behind me, tailing me, when they could have driven around me. I’m wondering if they did it to annoy me. It was the most stressful 10 minute drive home, I’ve ever had!

Still, the balloons made it home without flying away and they definitely add to the festivity. The things we do for love. I’m glad that I didn’t get pulled over, although a police escort might have eased the tension of the drive. It’s times like this that you wish you could have an out-of-body experience and look at yourself, and the crazy things that you do in life. It would be very easy to be self-amused, in my case.

Sacredness in Tears

I don’t have words today. Everything that I write seems trivial and wrong and ridiculous. You see, one of my good friends, a friend who has been so supportive of my writing and of my blog, is going through one of the worst pains imaginable for a parent. She lost her child. And nothing I say or write or do, can take that pain away. My heart is breaking for her. She is bearing her own pain, plus the pain of her husband and her other children. All that I can do for her, right now, is to pray for comfort and peace, for both she and her family. I ask you for your prayers for my friend and for her family as they travel that treacherous, long, rocky road called Grief. I love you, friend. I’m here for you.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love. ” – Washington Irving

Is Anything Private?

“The only thing someone spying on me would learn is how many of my meals I eat in bed.” – someecards

I read an article the other day talking about how people are now doing a new form of cyber-stalking by watching people’s Venmo transactions. What?!? Apparently, unless you change the setting, all Venmo transactions that you have made, sending money to various people for various reasons, are public, for all the world to see. As a mother who does scan the transactions in my college son’s bank account, I am acutely aware of how much information you can glean from just looking at bank statements. Late night and early morning uber charges, are very telling.

I have a friend who can always give me “the skinny” on all of our kids’ mutual friends. I asked her once how she knows all of this stuff and how she can keep up with it all. She told me that she has insomnia and that teenagers are very public and open about their lives, on-line.

I’m still guilty of the “what I don’t know, can’t hurt me” mentality. I like living in my own fantasy land, believing that the world is a prettier, neater, kinder, place than it often is, sometimes. There is a lot out there that I really just prefer not to know, even with The Truth (if it is the truth?!?) being available to me with just a couple of Google searches and a click of the mouse. I guess I would have made a terrible detective.

“I’m not a stalker. I’m just curious and oh and, by the way, you are out of milk.” – someecards

Fried-day

Last night, I ordered the fried seafood extravaganza at a local little restaurant my husband and I love to frequent. With a side of fries. It arrived, a giant, overflowing pile of various shapes, in crispy brown. Yes, it tasted great, but now my mouth is still coated in grease, my stomach is churning and burning, and my mind is trying to come up with a formula for the number of cucumbers and kale leaves I must eat today, to counteract the damage done. I’m going to have to cut this short today, friends. (Friend is a much better word than fried, it’s amazing what one little letter can do . . . ) Virginia Woolf said it best:


“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.” 

Nor can one write well. Well, maybe Virginia Woolf could, but she was Virginia Woolf.

Kanye Loves Kanye

“Tuesday would be a lot cuter if it were Friday.” – Anonymous

“I love Fridays like Kanye loves Kanye.” – Anonymous

Happy Friday!!! Happy Favorite Things Friday!!! New readers, I let my serious side go on Fridays, and I keep it light and airy. I describe three things, songs, websites, food sources, etc. that I just delight in. Please check out previous Fridays for more delicious ideas for how to spice up your life. And please share your own recommendations in my comments section! My “favorite things pile” is depleting fast, especially as I try to simplify and pare down my clutter and just my life in general.

Here we go, Friday, here we go:

Double Doggie – Most of us who love pets, see animals like we see potato chips or cookies – you can’t just have one. As my regular readers and friends know, we have two big dogs. Ralphie, is our energy-filled 82-pound labrador retriever and Josie, is our sweet and nosy, 60-some pound collie. I purchased the Double Doggie at an animal charity event years ago and I am so happy that I did. You see, I have gotten a concussion walking Ralphie as he walked me right off of my feet and Josie is a herding dog. My next concussion is probably going to come from Josie tripping me. The Double Doggie is a swivel handle that holds both dogs’ leashes and allows the dogs to be walked together, even as Ralphie’s nose takes him into 500 different directions and as Josie tries to herd Ralphie, me, and all of the toads on our sidewalks, all at once, as we are walking. Worth every penny!

Fanola No Yellow Shampoo – If your hair has the tendency to get brassy like my hair does, and you don’t feel like going to your hair salon every two weeks for a tone-down job, this shampoo does the trick! It is very, very purple shampoo that keeps the brass, by-passed. Just be careful, because although it doesn’t stain, the deep dark purple color of the shampoo has a tendency to land all over the bathroom for some reason and it looks alarming, like it will stain. Overall, cheap and magnifique!

Hookless Brand Shower Curtains – We are having a couple of our bathrooms renovated and I just bought one of these shower curtains for my daughter’s bathroom. This is one of those “no duh” inventions that you can’t imagine why it wasn’t thought of earlier than in the last few years. How many times did I mismatch the holes in the liner with the holes in my shower curtain and then have to do and re-do the fancy little hooks (praying I didn’t lose one, or that one of the hooks would break or rust) when I didn’t have Hookless shower curtains?? Countless times! Hanging my shower curtain before my Hookless shower curtain, seemed to take years, and it was a huge lesson in patience and frustration. I hung the new Hookless shower curtain in three minutes, tops. The liner just snaps on the back of it, making the liner easy to remove and to clean. There are so many pretty patterns to choose from. Love it!!

周末愉快 – According to Quora, this is Happy Friday in Chinese! Happy Friday, my dear friends and readers! Have yourself a fabulous weekend . . . if you want to!

This Blog Post is Now Live!

Starting out on an aside, I write my blog on WordPress and when I press the Publish button, it says “The Title of Today’s Blog” is now live! That makes me feel so excited. It’s like I am on a production set or something. It’s often the accumulation of all the little special extras that can make a day in your life so grand.

One of my favorite Twitter feeds is called Think Smarter. Think Smarter posted this the other day: Please share the best lesson your life has taught you. So far.

Here are some of my favorite answers that rang true to me:

This too shall pass.

Your choices make you.

You are the architect of your own life.

Be patient.

There are always two sides to every story.

Know what matters.

Respect yourself, respect other people and they will respect you.

All actions and in-actions have consequences.

God has your back.

You are responsible for your own happiness.

Never give up.

Don’t judge a book by its cover.

Never buy a cheap frying pan.

Don’t take your health for granted.

God always has a better plan for you than you have for yourself.

Don’t piss in the wind.

Happiness is not outside. It’s inside.

Tough times don’t last, tough people do.

Your kids will follow your example, not your advice.

All of these rang true to me and have been proven to me again and again in my 48 years of life. I saved my favorite for last:

Everything happens for a reason. Someday it will make PERFECT sense.