I just got an email from BlogHer saying they thought my blog was an excellent fit for their blogging network!  Oh yeah!  I was SO hoping for that!  Unfortunately there's a waiting list... but, I can wait!

I'm so happy right now that I don't think I'll be able to go to sleep for awhile, despite the fact that I'm exhausted.  Maybe it's a sign I should clean my office or something...

Its Christmas day here and I’m so glad the day is over.  My heart was so not in it this year – from start to finish.

Everywhere I went the things that usually fill this season with joy and magic just made me sad.  No amount of music or festive lights, or holiday baking managed to put me on the mood.  I felt like I was painting on a smile, pretending that everything was fine and wonderful, when really it’s anything but fine.

I can’t even stand to look at our Christmas tree because I know that this is the last year that all of the ornaments will be together, and it will be our family tree.  And it breaks my heart.  How do you take all the homemade mangers and angels and divide them? How do you let go without feeling like you’re letting go of the moment your child gave it to you with a look of such pride on his face?

Every time I turned around I was bombarded with yet another picture of a shining happy family at Christmas time.  It just made me SO jealous!  I’m just so tired of being alone on birthdays, and anniversaries, and Christmases…

I know that’s not right, and I don’t really begrudge anyone their happiness.  But sometimes it just feels so unfair… sigh.

I just don't know what my problem is lately and why I can't just snap out of it.

I'm  thinking this might be my new theme song...

Today felt like an eternity, every minute stretching on like a lifetime before me. I had such a hard time focusing, and being positive. I felt like I just wanted to step outside of my skin for a minute, to be someone else, somewhere else, walking a different path.

To try and shake the blues away, I went for a walk with my daughters down the abandoned railroad tracks near our house. It was so still and quiet, just the faint breeze, and the crunch of gravel under our feet.

We picked wildflowers, found seashells in the woods, looked at animal tracks in the dirt,

and enjoyed the last roses of the season.

We even found a few mushrooms along the way!

But most importantly it settled my heart. I found peace there in the woods with my girls. A calm reserve to face another day with gratitude and focus my energy on the beauty in my life that surrounds me every day.

It’s been a scant few hours since we said goodbye.

the words still hang in the air

like a faint echo in my heart

threatening to overwhelm me

with the sudden stillness.

Never have the words I love you seemed so inadequate

and incomplete,

and yet never have they rung so true.

I lie here in bed with my face buried in the blanket

looking for a trace of you there,

longing for your warmth and comfort

your reassurance.

I already miss your voice,

your quiet strength

and your companionship.

I worry about what will come to be in the months to pass.

Will you decide you don’t need me?

Or want me?

Are you better without me?

So I sit here willing the phone to ring,

knowing it’s late and you’re already gone,

wanting it to be you anyway.

Everything in me is tightening,

curling in around this ache

struggling to hold onto the memory of you,

of us.

You are a piece of me

that I don’t want to let go of…

I’ve walked so far today that one of my calf muscles won’t stop twitching.  This certainly didn’t help…

Somehow, I let my daughter talk me into climbing all 219 stairs to get to the top of the Saint Augustine Lighthouse.  Man I love that girl…

Once up at the top, I even managed to let go of the railing.  Ok, so it was only for like 10 seconds, but it was 10 seconds longer than the last time I was there… Granted it was hard to enjoy the view on account of the heart attack I was having.  Although I’m honestly not sure if that was from climbing all those stairs or from the fact that I was standing on a balcony a few hundred feet in the air…

Once I could beathe again, the view was stunning.

It was probably a good thing we walked so far on account of all the bakeries we visited today.  And I sure as heck didn’t just look in their windows.  It started with a perfectly made croissant here…

And ended with a light and flaky Napoleon here…

It’s this awesome combination of walking and sugar which explains why I’m currently lying here facing the ugly truth that I’m not as young as I once was.  It makes me feel slightly better that my pre-teen is also lying here looking like she just finished a marathon.  I’m not sure what that says about me that I find joy in that.  At the rate we’re going, I’m going to need a vacation to recover from my vacation!

I’m off to bed – I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to involve more walking and lots of chocolate…

It’s Friday morning – my company has gone home, the kids are all back in school, and my TO DO list is completely out of control.  As such, I’ve placed an insane amount of pressure on myself to get it all done.  At this point, I don’t even know where to begin.

I’ve always found the best thing to do when I reach this place, is just to put everything on the shelf for awhile and just walk away.

So instead of worrying about whether or not I can pull off my final Baking project in two hours or any of the other junk on my list, I’m sitting here at the park by the waterfront with a cup of tea, looking at this…

The water is calm and still, the fishermen have already headed out for the day, and the birds are twittering happily away.  Life continues on in the quiet rhythm of a small town.  I find so much peace and comfort in this.

My favorite boat in the harbor has just pulled up to the dock to refuel and take on water.  It’s SO beautiful.  It’s truly amazing what a man can achieve with nothing more than a dream and some determination.

I guess I just feel like it’s time to refocus.  It’s time for me to take this stress and turn it into something positive, to allow it to be a driving force to help me accomplish my goals rather than hinder them.

I’ve spent so long letting myself be ruled by my fears and self-doubt.  I’ve let these last few weeks knock me off course and threaten my dream of the future.  But if I let this sway me and deter me from my dream, then I can’t have wanted it badly enough.  When that thought first occurred to me, I let it take hold of me in a way that almost convinced me that I didn’t want it badly enough.  But now, the fighter in me is waking up.  And this is not my dream...

When I get to this place of internal calm, I can see everything so clearly, and I know exactly what I want.  I know too that I’ll fight tooth and nail to get it.  I will find a way to build my dream.

And now, with a content heart, I can go home and tackle my mountainous TO DO list, with a good attitude and a strong determination to achieve what I desire.

As I pulled away on Friday morning, I felt this immense relief – as if the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I hadn’t entirely realized I’d been carrying.

With four days and the open road in front of me, I felt free, full of hope and possibility.  With each mile more down the road, I felt the distance growing between this old life that was no longer working and this new life I still needed to create.  It was time for me to mold and shape that new life – to see the world as a blank canvas and me the artist in control of the palette.

I just didn’t know where to begin.  Or how.  Truth be told, maybe I was still struggling with why.  The only thing I knew for sure was that it needed to start with stillness.  I needed to quiet my heart and my mind so that I could see the possibilities and the opportunities when they presented themselves.

It seems crazy to me that the weekend ended with, well, an ending, when all along I had seen it as a beginning.

`
I went for the most incredible walk the other day. I took a wrong turn and suddenly there I was, at this place that was so familiar and comforting. Without really thinking about it, I turned in, parked my car, and found myself wandering these trails I had been down so many times before.

At first, it was nostalgia that carried me into the woods, the memory of Andrew toddling up ahead, squatting down on little legs to collect leaves and touch the mushrooms. It filled my heart with such joy to remember that time, when life took on a fullness and a richness I never could have imagined before he came into my life.

I came to a place where the path split, and thinking of Robert Frost (the dork that I am), I chose the path less travelled. Then it was the sheer joy of discovery that urged me forward – each turn a new possibility. The woods around me were teaming with life, a steady rhythm and tranquility that I found very reassuring.

Everywhere I looked I saw life – life, and death, and rebirth. This great endless cycle of life. I saw trees that grew crooked, bent to reach for the sun, trees that grew sideways, even one that grew in a circle. It was a great reminder to me of how resilient life is – how it will always fight to find a way. And somehow I knew that I would be all right, whatever the future holds.

I walked until I found a spot nestled among the trees that seemed as if it had been made just for me. The water was so calm, a perfect mirror of the stillness around me. The canopy of trees was my shelter and protection, and as the wind blew through them, it filled my heart with peace. I wish I could have stayed lost in that perfect moment.

But as I pointed out, life finds a way of moving on. So much has happened in the hours that have passed since then. I find myself sitting here at Starbuck’s willing time to turn back to find that peace and stillness once again and hold it in my heart, to care for it tenderly and nurture it till it grows into something strong and beautiful that remains with me.

I was reading this article the other day about writers and their “quirks” – how people who write often have a very specific time, place and even mood they need to be in for the words to flow well.

It was reassuring to know that I’m not simply crazy…

For me, it’s quiet. Not just physical quiet, although that too. But quiet in my head and in my heart.

I just don’t feel that way lately.

It just feels like the stress is coming in waves, steady and unrelenting. Each wave sways me, threatens to knock me off my feet. No sooner do I catch my breath and steady myself, than another wave comes along. And with it a great, thundering noise.

I’m so focused on just not falling on my rear, that I have no time to find that peace and quiet that I so badly need. Not that I know where to begin looking if I had the time…

I just can’t escape the noise…

The nearness of you unseats me,
unravels me
and exposes me.

I fear what you think of me.
It both repels me
and attracts me.

Like resting on the edge of a blade...

The Cure

I’ve been kind of obsessed with this song called “The Cure” by Jordan Sparks lately. It’s this beautiful song about a man who has come out of a terrible relationship, hurt and jaded. The woman, in turn, offers to be his “cure.”

One of my favorite lines is, “So consider this a moment, as defining you are. I can fix what’s broken. And here’s how I’ll start. Just come with your heart. And leave the rest to me. And I promise I will be, I’ll be your cure.”

When I first listened to it, I thought that it was SO incredibly romantic, since my heart bleeds romance (despite what some people think). To think that all the pain and hurt caused by someone can be so easily undone by someone else… that they could completely restore your faith in love, seemed liked such an extraordinary thing.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe this is part of the problem with relationships in general. We have ALL been hurt – lied to, mistreated, used… and yet somehow we have all been led to believe that it’s just that one person, and that somewhere out there lays the person who will undo all that hurt and pain and be our perfect fairytale romantic, movie ending where everyone rides off into the sunset and lives happily ever after.

What a load of crap!

The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that maybe this is where so many of my problems began. Somewhere along the way I allowed myself to be defined by the relationship I was in, and by that person’s opinion of me. When the relationship ended, even when it wasn’t my fault, especially when it wasn’t my fault, I somehow internalized it and blamed it on myself. As if somehow I was inadequate – wasn’t pretty enough, funny enough, smart enough, or heaven forbid skinny enough…

Somehow, I talked myself into believing that the next relationship would be different. I came to believe that if the next man was different, valued me more, or saw me for who I was, or just honored the commitment that he made, that it would somehow undo all the other hurt and pain. That he would be my cure…

And now I don’t know. Have I come to understand that I need to be happy for my own sake, or am I just jaded?

After listening to this song enough times, it suddenly struck me at what an insane notion this is! Why should my happiness be forever tied up in someone else’s? Why should I allow myself worth to be defined by this person? And why the hell should I expect them to be “The cure?”

Isn’t enough for me to be happy because I’m me? To feel my own self worth and not have it hinged on someone else’s opinion of me?

I got the strangest Mother’s Day card in the mail the other day from my oldest brother. I haven’t seen or heard from him in nearly thirteen years. It’s the strangest thing…

Over the years I’ve often felt guilty about not keeping in touch – wondering if I played a part in the hurt and isolation that has led to his continued drug use.

I really have no strong memories of him from my childhood, and as adults our lives have taken such different paths. Perhaps I should have tried harder to stay connected with him in spite of his problems. Maybe even more so because of them…

I wonder why he’s suddenly reaching out now, after all these years.

As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep last night, I found myself thinking about what my answer would have been had the tables been reversed and someone had asked me my memorable food moment.

While there are many, some probably better forgotten, one of the strongest is from my trip to Newport. That trip holds a special place in my heart for a lot of reasons – it’s one of the few trips I’ve taken in my life by myself, existing solely on my own agenda. I woke up when I wanted to wake up, ate what I wanted to eat when I wanted to eat it, and went wherever I wanted, all without having to consult somebody else or alter my desires to accommodate someone or something.

The night I arrived, I found a spot near the harbor to park and just wandered the streets with a cup of coffee, stopping to marvel at the old buildings and the view of the harbor. The weather was sublime, and the smell of the salt air reminded me so much of home. And while I wanted to linger, I was also eager to see it all.

After walking around town for a few hours, I found a little bakery/deli where I grabbed a loaf of baguette and a small wedge of Comté. From a wine shop, I grabbed a bottle of Newport Vineyards’ Table White, and headed back to my hotel which was located on the beach.

I took my little ‘picnic,” my camera, a journal and a pencil out to the beach with me to enjoy the view looking up at all the mansions on the hill. The beach has always been a place of utter calm for me, and this night was no exception. I sat there till long after the sun went down, totally at peace.

While the food was nothing particularly all that extravagant or special, that moment was. It had been SO long since I’d been alone with my thoughts. I had arrived in Newport tired and stressed, with so much weighing on my mind and in my heart. In that few hours, over a glass of wine and a sunset, I was a calm I hadn’t been in a very long time.

I haven’t tried that wine since – it’s almost like I’m afraid that if I tasted it again, it wouldn’t live up to my memory of it, and the disappointment I would then feel would somehow taint my memory of that experience. Maybe it’s better this way…

It amazes me that so many years later, the thought of that night can still evoke so much joy for me.

The other day, during my first Baking class, the Chef let us each ask him one “semi-intelligent” question as part of his Q & A session.

My question for him was: What’s your most memorable food moment?”

I asked this for two reasons. One just because I was curious. He grew up with a totally different culture and food experience than I did. He’s also worked in many different places and been exposed to so many more foods than I have. I was curious to know which of these foods really stuck in his memory.

Second, because I think the answer tells a lot about a person. Somebody who really loves foods usually has to think about it. Their lips purse, their eyes look up as if they’re trying to visualize it, and the moment that they think of it, you can almost see the joy and contentment the memory brings in their physical features. They smile, and their shoulders relax, almost as if their whole body just sighed. And when they finally answer, it totally reveals their sense of food, food style, and their passion. You can tell more about a person by asking this one question than by asking a hundred others.

His answer didn’t disappoint, and now I understand him more than I ever could before.

The other question that popped into my head was: what do you do in the kitchen when nobody is looking? Do you drink milk out of the container? Double dip? I somehow didn’t think that fell into the “semi-intelligent” category (or the remotely intelligent category either for that matter), merely the nosey one!

Quote for the day...

"Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes human voice to infuse them with the shades of deeper meaning."

-Maya Angelou

Quote for the day...

"You don't love someone because they're perfect. You love them in spite of the fact they're not."

-Jodi Picoult

From the mouths of babes...

from February 25, 2010

Last night as I sat down at my desk, I was greeted by a stack of notebooks and journals my daughter had outgrown and was ready to throw away or pass down to her little sister. So of course I flipped through them to see whether there was anything I should hang onto (either for posterity or for laughs later on in life).

I came across some pictures she had drawn of our dog Ralph and some poetry she had written right after he died which I pulled out to keep for her. Of course there were the random I Heart Taylor which of course was later scribbled out and replaced with some other boy's name; random doodles, lists of friends, etc.

But what caught my attention were the last two pages of one of the books. It said, "Mothering Report. Jennifer M: F." And the F was huge - we're not talking a small failure, we're talking taking up a whole page failure. The next page said, "My mother is the worst mother in the whole world!!!!!! I hate her guts! My heart" with a picture of a large broken heart.

I just sat there numbly. I have honestly never been so hurt by someones words as I was in that moment. That someone I had loved so wholeheartedly and unconditionally would feel that way about me, broke my heart.

I spent today while she was at school debating whether or not I should say anything to her. It did really hurt, and I wanted to know what I had done that had caused such a flash of anger (even if momentary). And it wasn't as if the diaries were state secrets, she left them on my desk. I finally decided I would ask, but do it in a light-hearted way so that it wouldn't be confrontational.

I couldn't believe her answer! She said she wrote it one day last year when it had started raining, but I hadn't realized it so I didn't come pick her up from school. She had to walk home in the rain (granted it was pouring rain). Of course when she got home I felt terrible, and while she put on dry clothes I made her hot cocoa with plenty of marshmallows, and I even made her brownies. And of course I apologized!

Of all the things I have (and have not) done as a mother, I can't believe that's what she'd give me an F for!

Inside My Heart

from February 24, 2010

A few moths ago, I read this book called Inside My Heart by Robin McGraw (Dr. Phil's wife). it was a nice uplifting book about learning to take what comes your way in life and choosing how to handle it, how to take all the crap and the negativity and not let it control you, but use it to make you stronger.

One of my favorite parts of the book was when she was talking about her parents. She said that we get caught up in all the baggage from our childhoods, all the negative things our parents did, that we often forget to see the good, especially the good that comes from the bad. The things we learn we don't want in our own lives.

And so I followed her example, and I made a list of things, good and bad, that I had learned from my parents - my parents' legacy to me.

Since I was closer to my mother growing up, I'll start with her. She was a stay-at-home mother for most of my childhood. And she was an excellent mother - we were well cared for, well loved, we were provided for (despite being poor) and well educated. She kept a clean and efficient household and was an incredible cook and baker. I learned the importance of love and motherly devotion. I know I inherited her love of food and cooking, and the value of family meals. I knew when my time came to be a mom, she was the kind of mother I wanted to be.

In addition to my mother's household chores, she was also our social coordinator - not an easy task with four kids and no money. But she was always taking us places, to see and try out new things. Sometimes there were museums and Greek restaurants, and other times it was nature walks and mountain climbing, or just a trip to the beach. I learned to enjoy the diversity in life and have an absolute LOVE of travel because of my mother's creative ways in entertaining us. I learned to make the most of every opportunity, and that your education can come from many places and will always be what you make it.

And as we attended church and Sunday School every week, I learned the value of faith. I learned about God even when I thought it was a wasted exercise. And I do not struggle with my beliefs and faith like so many of my friends do.

One of my mother's greatest traits, has always been her generosity - even when she had so little to give. She taught me that you can always give something, even if just a part of yourself. The greatest gift is any gift that is given with love.

But somewhere in all this taking care of everyone else, my mother was always at the bottom of her list, especially financially, but really in every way. She fell into such a pattern of self-neglect that I still don't think she has moved past it. She was so often tired and overwhelmed with the pressures of her life, but she never took the time to take care of her emotional needs. I knew I never wanted to be that mother or that wife. I didn't want to wake up twenty years into my marriage and say I just can't do this anymore.

Now my father, I really don't have strong memories of my father from my childhood because he really wasn't around very much. What I know of those years I know because of the fallout from my parents' divorce. Because of what, in my childish mind, I believed all could have been avoided. only if...

I knew that I did not want to marry a smoker or a heavy drinker. I would not be married to an alcoholic. I knew those were two things I would never tolerate in my life. I had witnessed their destruction for far too many years.

In growing older, and gaining perspective and wisdom, I now understand that my father's drinking was really a culmination of so many other things, an escape from a failing marriage and a job that he didn't really love, and from the financial burden of raising a family. But I also see that he worked at a job to provide for us (such as it was) because that was his responsibility. Period.

I knew that I never wanted to be stuck in a job that I hated. So much of your time as an adult is devoted to work, so why not work at a job that you love?

Over the years, my father slowly regained control of his life by quitting drinking and smoking, by attending church, mending bridges and has become the great man that I am truly proud to call my father. He taught me that you are never too old to change - if you want it bad enough, make it happen. And there are such things as second chances.

From my parents' divorce, and all the pain and hardship it caused in my life, I knew it was something I never wanted to put my own children through, not without exhausting every single possibility known to man first. I wanted my children to remember the love of our family coming together around the table every day, not just on special occasions. They taught me to fight for my marriage.

With all the time we spent apart during the separation and divorce, our relationships all suffered. We have had to work hard as adults to rebuild those relationships, and I've always wondered how different things would have been had we all lived together. I learned that your family are the most important people on earth, and you have to make them, and keep them a priority in your life.

And finally, after an entire childhood of watching my parents struggle to pay the bills and repairs cars, and simply provide for us kids, I knew that I did not want that struggle in my own life. I was willing to make certain sacrifices (like having a husband at sea) to ensure that my family was never in that situation. I'm not so naive as to believe I could (or can) guarantee that, but I know what I am and am not willing to do to prevent it.

It's funny, after making this list, I realized that I got from my parents exactly what I was supposed to: the knowledge of how to be a happy and productive member of society, a good mother, a good wife, and a good person. And so I realized that all that baggage they gave me was just as much a blessing as it was a burden. That is my parents' legacy.

Einstein

from February 19, 2010

"If God didn't exist, it would be necessary for man to invent him"

-Albert Einstein

I have spent an enormous chunk of energy avoiding religion in my life. It's not tat I am opposed to God - just having someone else's version of God rammed down my throat. And the endless guilt that follows when I don't believe the same way.

So it strikes me as almost funny that so many of the books I have read lately have had Christianity as their underlying theme. First there was The Alexandria Link, then The Templar Legacy, and lastly The Last Templar. And while each of these books was certainly a unique story in its own right, the underlying questions were the same: if you discovered a secret that would shake the foundation of the church or Christianity, would you tell anyone? Or is it better for the people to have some faith, even if a little distorted and misguided? Is religion doing the world more harm than good?

In one, a document is found that revealed that Jesus did indeed have a physical relationship with Mary Magdalene who bore his children. In another it was revealed that Jesus was never resurrected. That "resurrection" was perhaps metaphorical. And in so revealing, would disprove the notion of the afterlife. What if the resurrection never happened?

And in the final one, a Gospel of Jesus is discovered that proved that Jesus was not the son of God, merely a man, however devout and perhaps saintly, but just a man. Then all of the New Testament is a lie.

So what would you do, if through some accident (or miracle) you discovered irrefutable proof that Christ and the way the church had always portrayed his life is wrong? Is it historically important enough to reveal the truth? Or would the damage outweigh the good? Was Einstein right?

The Magic of Christmas

from November 11, 2009

As I was out Christmas shopping earlier, I put on my Josh Groban CD to get me in the mood. I was so calm and relaxed, and like every year, I loved every second of wandering throughout he stores - seeing all the decorations, the wrapping paper, even the holiday china and festive cat toys. It seems like everywhere you go, the world is ensconced in red and green and things that sparkle.

I know that my love of Christmas goes much deeper than the mere trappings of the season - although I certainly love those too. My love goes back to childhood.

I grew up in a fairly poor family, and by fairly poor, I mean there were times that the food we ate was from a food pantry somewhere. When I was really young it never bothered me because I never understood it, never knew anything else was possible. But little by little, as I grew up, I got caught up in the commercialism of the holidays. I wanted the Barbie Dream house and a new bike, new clothes. I wanted. And while I understood that wanting didn't mean I was getting, I still wanted.

I was thinking of this as I took a break from my shopping to have a cup of coffee at Starbuck's while I pondered my lists and sales flyers - making notes.

And somewhere in the midst of thinking about all the ridiculous things my children have asked for this year, I thought about the gifts I used to ask for - and the ones I used to get. Every year, without fail, I got clothes from my grandparents. Because in a poor family with four kids, we always needed clothes. And I hated getting them simply because we needed them - it seemed to me (in my childish mind) that Christmas was the time to splurge and get things you really dreamed of having - not the things you needed.

Now at this point I should also mention that they were always handmade: sweaters, pant suits, even pajamas. Of course came the mandatory photo sessions, but then I always tried to bury them and forget them. As if wearing them was like announcing to the world that we were too poor to buy real clothes.

With age and time certainly comes perspective and wisdom - and just as often regret. As a wife and mother of three, I know there are times it is difficult to juggle all of our needs financially. During the early years of our marriage money was tight and often need overrode desire. I understood my own childhood and circumstances in ways I never did - or could - as a child.

And it fills me with terrible shame when I think of how embarrassed I was by those homemade gifts from my family. To know that my mother wore the same clothes for years and scrimped and saved for months to be able to afford the gifts we did receive at Christmas. That she often stayed up late into the night making presents for my brothers and I so that she could surprise us. Or how sick my grandmother was with cancer when she was knitting those hats I was too embarrassed to wear.

I know now how ungrateful I was, and how badly I must have hurt them when I so quickly brushed aside the gifts they had worked and struggled so hard to provide. And I would give anything to take that back - to go back in time and wear every silly ski mask and know that I was wrapped up in the love of the two women who gave me everything they could. I would know that it took LOVE to let me help make my favorite Christmas cookies while completely messing up the kitchen, or making my favorite apple pie, or freezing while they took us ice skating or sledding.

So, yes, we were poor, but my mother gave me everything I needed - time, love, and an understanding of the joy and peace the Christmas season brings. And maybe most importantly, she taught me the happiness you can only have by giving - not receiving.