ilife

On a flight back from Texas last Friday night I listened to a couple of good podcasts. The first was about murder, of course. But the other one was Arianna Huffington talking about sleep and bedtime, not that I have issues with either – I usually have pj’s on by 7pm if I’m home. My bed is one of my all-time favorite places to visit, and insomnia has never ever been an issue for me. But there was a part of her talk that completely got to me. She said, “Wouldn’t it be great if we took care of ourselves half as much as we take care of our phones. We are obsessed with our phones being on full-charge, not running out to battery life. We make sure our phones have the latest updates, apps, etc. and are in constant fear of losing our phones. How many times have you had a moment of panic thinking you left it somewhere or forgot it at home? Wouldn’t it be a revelation if you cared about yourself like this? Are you running on empty? Are you protected from viruses? Are you updating yourself with what you need to keep current?”

That was pretty mind blowing for me to hear. Do I take care of myself that well? Ummm that would be an N to the O, No. I treat myself more like an old burner phone. I’m useful, but not meant to coddle and protect. Nice.

Last week, at the end of a big event, we had a speaker who challenged us to make a bucket list. He asked us to take a moment and write down all the things we would aim to do before we died. He called them “moonbeam” goals. Things like, climb the Alps, write a book, meet your childhood idol… you get the point. Big things. People around me started filling up their page, it was as if they’d been waiting their whole lives to be asked this question. What do you want to do before you die? I drew a blank. It was hard. Why couldn’t I come up with one thing? What’s my dream? I put down 1) volunteer more. Ok. That’s something, it’s not nothing, but I already volunteer. And that didn’t seem “bucket listy” . Then I thought of number 2) go to the doctor more often. Seriously. That’s what I thought of. WTF? I had to have at least 3 before we were asked to share with our neighbors. I panicked and put down 3) run a 3K. Run a 3K?? Running 1.8 miles was my moonbeam activity? So lame. Who knew I was so lame? Don’t I have dreams? Ambitions? And let’s be honest here, I’ve never even run for a train before. All of sudden my dream is to run? This was a sad state of affairs. I always joke that I’m dead inside, but maybe I really am. How is it possible that I can have a longer discussion about the TV shows that I watch than my dreams and ambitions?? This was no bueno.

Just for fun/to mentally torture myself, I decided to ask a couple of friends what their list would look like. One said she’d like to be the keynote speaker at a big event. Another said he’d like to learn how to farm, real farming with cows and dirt and shit (his words). But others were stumped like me – which made me feel a lot better. Someone also reminded me that I’m constantly saying that I want to be a detective and solve a mystery. I reminded them back that I was kidding. It was a joke. I mean I think it was a joke. Although I really do think I could solve a crime if I put my mind to it. So maybe that’s on my list… 4) be a Private Investigator (danger free crime-solving, ala Jessica Fletcher please). Do you have a bucket list? Have you ever tried to write it down? Tell me please, I now need to know everyone’s bucket list! Maybe I’ll get some good ideas.

This is all I have for you tonight. Just some random musings on a Tuesday. Are you treating yourself as well as you treat your phone? Are you on low battery? Do you have a good screen protector? Ok that doesn’t make sense, sorry. Went too far 🙂

Who moved my happiness??

I feel like I can be personal with you. I feel I should be honest when big, monumental changes happen in my life. Marriage. Divorce. Death. Birth. Etc.

This is none of those. But it’s important.

I’ve already shared this news with some loved ones, whether they wanted the info or not. Family, friends, co-workers that I eat the majority of my meals with and Uber drivers have all heard my tale of woe. You should know too.

About a month ago, I joined the ranks of millions of people, sad people, who are lactose intolerant. Yep. That’s right. Even though for most of my very happy life I have had zero issues with dairy – my body has turned on me.

I noticed it happening before the holidays but I blamed other things. Bad food. Too much wine. My kids. But then, one night, after a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (white bread, grape jelly, smooth pb) I had a big glass of milk. That was a night to remember, if you know what I mean.

The morning after it all clicked. Dairy. Milk. Cheese. CHEESE. That was the problem. I mean being wine intolerant would have been worse, but this is pretty bad. Anyone that knows me, even for a hot second, knows how much I love cheese. All cheese. My go-to hotel meal after a hard event was also a grilled cheese. Goat cheese….remember all my good times with goat cheese? And Brie! Brie holds as big a place in my heart as my husband. Just kidding. I would never compare my love for my husband with my love for Brie. A good Comté maybe…

Yogurt! Why didn’t I appreciate you when I had the chance? And ice cream. Will there even be a summer without ice cream?

I’m disgusted with myself. And yes, I know I can take those lactose pills but that’s not living man. I already color my hair, wear reading glasses and avoid acidic food at night….how much more can I take?

I guess it’s just me and hummus now.

Thanks for listening.

I’ve been away from home too long…

No matter where I go… if I’m away for work or fun too long I start coming apart. I can always tell when it’s time to come home when instead of packing up my stuff, I want to throw out every outfit I brought with me.

And this….

Time to get home.

We’ve had some busy weeks and some sadness in between. Our family lost Lexi, short for Lexington, as in avenue in NYC.

I’m happy she’s at peace now.

About 8 years ago, we took the kids to Mexico for vacation. It rained one afternoon and the resort had the kids do a clay paint activity. My son found a little kitten and told us he wanted to paint it for Lexi.

This little statue has sat next to her food bowls ever since. And this is where it will stay.

I’ll leave you with something funny. Here’s the best thing I found in Austin,TX…

I’ll be thinking this in all my meetings at work this week. They’re not kidding when they say,” Keep Austin Weird”. I’m definitely in.

The Stuff That Sticks

Like millions of other people, I was working and living in New York City on September 11, 2001. Everyone has a 9/11 story. Riding into work this morning, my train car was full of people talking about that day. Like a train full of veterans that lived to tell about it. Many of them had lost co-workers or family, but today, they talked about the little things. The weather that morning. People helping each other. The police walking around Penn Station with their fire arms out and on the ready.

Their conversation reminded me of the days and months and years following the sudden death of my mother-in-law. My husband, his sister and I would talk through every moment that led up to her passing over and over again. We’d be eating together, driving together, you name it – and all of a sudden one of us would start talking about how all the events unfolded. It was a devastating loss but talking about it, somehow dissecting it with each other was good for us. From the outside it must have sounded depressing and morbid, or like we were adding salt to the wound. But really it helped the healing. And it felt so nice to do it with people who wouldn’t hurry you through thinking about that day into the,” she’s in a better place” or “you’ll be ok soon”. Mourning slowly and long is ok. Mourning in bits and pieces is ok.

9/11 and the weeks that followed are both a blur and extremely clear in my head. Here’s what goes through my head today about that day:

  • I walked into the building at work not having watched the news. My boss, now one of my best friends, was coming in too. She said,” Did you hear what happened?” We went upstairs, grabbed another co-worker, and went to a company coffee shop – called Java City I think. They had two TVs broadcasting live. A tower on fire. News channels hadn’t expected to show people jumping out of windows so we saw everything. All three of us were crying. I think everyone in that shop was crying.
  • Not sure how/when we came back down to our floor, or if the other tower had been hit at that point. TVs were brought into a small conference room on our floor and people were either frantically calling home or watching the footage.
  • Here’s a totally wacky thing. There is a comedian named Jason Mantzoukas who’s quite famous now. But on that day, he worked across from our floor and did presentation building. He was the funny dude who would help put together our agenda packets, etc. He’s the one that helped bring the TV into the conference room, and I remember spending part of that horrible day with him. When I see him on Parks and Recreation or in the movies – all I can think of, is him sitting with us and crying.
  • My husband stayed behind at work (a choice he regrets now) and I walked home alone, with a hundred other people. We were like zombies shuffling out of buildings and onto the streets.
  • The next day was surreal. It was the most surreal day I have ever been through. No planes. No cars. No buses. All the stores were closed. The streets were empty uptown. Downtown was still a war zone. There was almost no one outside.
  • Everyone that didn’t lose someone in the city was huddled around a TV watching the coverage. President Bush came on and threatened retaliation. It was exactly what we needed to hear.
  • One of the most miraculous things was that my daughter was only 3. Completely, happily, oblivious to all the chaos and manic fear. I have never been so thankful for bedtime routines and snack time.
  • One of our events a few months later was at a production of The Producers, which had opened that April in NYC. It was one of the first nights after 9/11 that I remember being in a big room full of people that were laughing and joyous.

So ofcourse I’ll “Never Forget” the loss. But I remember so many other things too.

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RIP, RPM and Rahm

I cannot believe Robin Williams is dead. Heartbreaking. The first thing I did when I found out was text my husband. Not just to share the sad news, but to gloat that I knew before him.
For those of you who are in normal, healthy relationships, this is weird. How dare we compete with such a sensitive thing.
But those of you that are in similar, weirdo marriages – I won!! I won!! I beat the guy that’s told me about all the major deaths in recent news, including Mandela and Phillip Seymore Hoffman. Do you know how many times I’ve heard,”guess who died?”. I think Robin would have appreciated that.
I won!
Ok. Sorry. Back to being super sad.
I got the news in Chicago where I’m making a quick visit to a conference. We had a free night and decided to go to Juliana and Bill Ranci’s new place – RPM. You can throw a dart at this menu below and we probably ordered it. Mama Depandi would be proud. If you know who that is then you watch as much reality TV as me.
Finally- I can’t mention Chicago and not mention Rahm Emanuel. Sigh. I’d move to Chicago just to share the air.
I’ve talked about him before. I bet he doesn’t compete with his wife about announcing dead people.
So RIP Robin, thanks for the calories RPM, and till we not meet again Rahm.

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Chin up

Today is my mother-in-laws birthday. She would have been 63 years old. We lost her suddenly and tragically almost 8 years ago. For a while, all I could think about was the day she died. How she was just there, in front of me dancing, and then not. How I just heard her laughing and yelling at her sisters, and then not. I replayed that day (like all those that loved her) over and over again.

But now I think about that day less and less, and the other days more and more. You know the expression,”life of the party”? She was the definition of that. A firecracker that could be warm and loving one minute, and sharp and witty the next. She was one of the funniest people I have ever known. She was a storyteller too – born with the gift of narrative. Her stories were told with her words and her hands and her eyes.

She lived a tough life, survived single motherhood, raised two amazing kids, worked non-stop, and never showed it. If you met her, you’d think she was the happiest, go-luckiest person around. Because she was. She made the best out of everything. She lived her life, however short, fully. No one will ever say she didn’t have fun.

I know wherever she is now, she’s laughing and making everyone laugh with her.

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Downer Abbey

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For all of those folks who haven’t caught up on this season’s episodes of Downton Abbey, please stop reading and go enjoy your short-lived happiness with the show. What I mean is…SPOILER ALERT. Meh.

Sorry, I’m pissed. I know it’s an English melodrama. I know it’s not real. But really? Really?

Must I be raked over the emotional coals on each character? The maid who has to give away her little Charlie…Edith and her endless basket of bad luck…and Cybil.  Oh lord do not even get me started on Cybil.  2 doctors in a room and she still dies while they look at each other by the fire. Even Thomas and his tortured, closeted life makes me sad.

And then last week they kill Matthew. No. Wait. They kill Matthew after he and Mary joyfully welcome a son. After Mary tells him over and over again that he is the only person who knows her. AFTER a speech from the Earl of Grantham about happiness finally coming to the abbey.  I know, I know. Contracts expire. Actors have to move on. Couldn’t they have done a switcheroo a la Darren on Bewitched? Or the older sister from Rosanne?

It’s really bad when you are praying for more time spent on O’Brien just to avoid the sadness.

I know I still have Bates and Anna. And maybe Mrs. Patmore will get lucky soon.

Sigh.

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