Lucky Me

Last week, while walking my beloved border collie, I found a slightly damp 10 dollar bill. My heart sang. I felt like jumping up and down for joy. It’s not like this ten was the difference between me eating and starving, nor was it my transit home or anything vital. But to me it represented good fortune. It made me feel as if the gods were smiling down on me.

So, I stuck that tenner in my pocket and skipped merrily home. Later that day, I took out the magical bill to buy a double espresso. I received eight dollars in change. Ooh, what else would I procure with this windfall? I thought. But when I reached into my pocket some three hours later I had only three dollars left. What happened to that five dollar bill? I will never know. Perhaps I never got correct change. Maybe it fell out of my pocket (damn you women’s wear designers for your cursed shallow pockets!) All I knew was that it was gone. And I went from feeling blessed and happy to feeling frustrated and doomed. Just like that.

Even at the time, I knew I was acting irrationally. My friends and loved ones urged me to look at the situation differently. “Hey, it's not like you lost $5, it's more like you found $5,” they said trying to sway me into a different attitude. Nope, I couldn’t do it.

My Dad circa 1976 -- who I miss, but am grateful for.

I am a glass half empty person, I guess and it’s very hard for me to see myself as lucky, fortunate or blessed. But the fact of the matter is that I am. Sure, I’ve been through some really rough stuff in my life. My childhood was no Disney tale. I struggled with some demons in my early adult life. I fell in love later in life and quickly learned I couldn’t give my soul mate the child he always dreamed of. I reunited with my father only to lose him a few short years later.

Yeah, pretty sad, but people have gone through lots worse and not fared as well as I have. The thing is self-pity often feels like a safe, warm haven for me. But it is actually a very dangerous place. It leads to harmful bad behavior like isolation, over-indulgence, resentments and depression. So this year, I choose not to go there.

So, as Thanksgiving is upon us, I have decided to honor the true spirit of the holiday and give thanks for the abundance of good fortune I have in my life.

My Health: Yup, I’ve got to start with a cliché because if I wasn’t alive I’d have nothing else on this list. But I also put it at the top because I am acutely aware of what good health feels like and how it has changed my life. A year ago at this time, I was still deeply in grief. My life centered on clearing out and cleaning up my late mother-in-law’s home – not a very cheery vocation. I was 33 pounds heavier. I couldn’t walk more than five steps without pain from plantar fasciitis. I didn’t sleep well. I had very little energy. Life seemed like a chore. When I made the decision to focus on my nutrition, exercise and meditate everything changed, and I mean everything! I don’t feel or look like the same person. I have boundless energy most days, no pain and lots of hope. I no longer focus on death, but think about all the things I want to do (like return to Acadia National Park -- where I climbed this freaking mountain!)

My Family: One of the great things about getting married late in life is that you really know that it’s the right person. My husband Steve is my best friend and the Yin to my Yang. He is patient, loving, supportive, kind and the most devoted doggy dad in the world. And all of you that know him have to agree on that, right? And you all know that our beloved Rollo is also like a furry baby to us – and one that we don’t have to save money for college tuition (or bail!) I thank God every day that my Mom is still healthy and happy. I love talking to her every day – even if she doesn’t always agree with me (and vice versa.) She still has one of the best senses of humor and her enthusiasm for all things British – especially Britcoms and tea – is still utterly charming. And despite a bit of drama now and then, I love and am proud of my sister , my niece and nephew and am grateful that they are in my life. I'm also lucky enough to have an amazing half sister and step mother in Maine who know where the bodies are buried and love me anyway.

My Friends: I have some friends that I have known for 42 years and some I have known for 4 months. I have friends who are half my age and friends who are old enough to be a parent. My friends are high powered lawyers, dog-walkers, teachers, entrepreneurs (read: unemployed people) retired cops and students. I appreciate their minds and hearts, their vast and varied experiences, and their company. At this age, my friends are not drinking buddies or wingmen; they are not just bridesmaids or travel companions. No, they are extended family, they are my support system.  Steve and I made the decision long ago to jettison what we refer to as “emotional vampires.”  We no longer make space for people who just want to suck the life out of us by dumping their problems with no interest in actually changing or helping others. So the friends we do see and spend time with love, nurture and amuse us – and only occasional frustrate us.  

My Home: Sure, I complain about my home. It ain’t easy fitting two people, a 60 lb dog and

everything they own in a one-bedroom apartment. Nor is it my life’s dream to share a bathroom with a man. But, having a safe, warm and lovely place to live is definitely nothing to take for granted – especially in Manhattan. My heart breaks for friends who get uprooted because of new construction or break ups etc. and find that they can no long afford even a room in Bushwick. And there are those moments when Rollo and I approach the Hudson River on a quiet day. We sniff the water, we feel the breeze. We watch the boats sail by and I think (I can’t say what he’s thinking) how lucky I am. I feel like I live in a vacation resort. And, I do. People come from every corner of the earth to walk the same streets I walk every day and for that I feel blessed.

Coffee: Besides the occasional shopping trip, this is my last remaining vice and I adore it with a nearly fanatical devotion. I got so excited when I learned about the new Nespresso boutique in Macy’s I could barely contain myself. The sales rep there gave me a free vanilla cappuccino because he said I the nicest customer he had all day. Of course I was. I was acting with utter reverence. I was in my holy place. Coffee doesn’t really fit in with my new nutritional outlook (especially when you add half and half as I do) but I think we all need our vices in order to be human – and as bad treats go, this is not as bad as some (eg see Mayor Tom Ford - or me circa 1995.)

Well those are the biggies. Sure, I am grateful for all the wonderful television shows about bridal gown shopping that provide delicious distractions from my school work and swiffering; and I cherish my favorite Mexican restaurant Mariachi’s (formerly Little Place); and don’t get me started on shoes and handbags. But I think writing about those things on this list would diminish the importance of friends, family, health and home.

But, I do want to add my deepest appreciation for everyone who reads this blog. I have always been grateful for my ability to write. And you all allow me to enjoy this “gift” and share it with others. So to all of you, I wish you a very happy Thanksgiving.

 

P.S. Thanks again, Rita for the gift of the 18 lb Turkey -- the other "real" meaning of Thanksgiving!

Resisting the Bear

Ever since we set the clocks back last week I have morphed from a healthy, energetic woman into a lumbering, sad, grizzly bear. I don’t want to get out of bed, I’m craving salty, fatty fried foods and I have zero motivation to work out or even leave the apartment.  I know that I’m not alone. My instinct to hibernate and put on that delicious layer of “winter fat” is pretty universal. That is why this time of year is known for weight gain and depression. Fa la lala la!

Of course, it’s natural to feel this way at this time of year because we are, in fact, animals.

"Keep walking, Mom...we're not done yet."

We react to the seasons and our environment just like migrating geese, nut-storing squirrels and good ol’ hibernating bears. Just because we may have larger brains and have developed the ability to drive a standard transmission doesn’t mean we’re not part of nature. Our joints ache when it’s about to rain; we are drawn to bask in the sun, we relax at the ocean; If you don’t believe that we react to forces of nature, just visit a packed emergency room during a full moon. I kid you not.

So, is time to wrap yourself in a fleece blanket and gobble up as much grilled cheese sandwiches and pecan pie as you please? Unfortunately, no. But we should listen carefully to the cues are body are giving and honor them healthfully. This way, we can get through the winter basically as emotionally and physically unscathed our families allow.

As human beings, we will always need sunlight and exercise no matter how cold and dreary it is outdoors. We thrive on it. Our bones need vitamin D and our heart muscles need cardio (even just walking) to stay strong. Having a dog is my saving grace. Whether I have the motivation for a brisk and chilly walk is irrelevant, it’s my job. But I find that if I have a purpose or some accountability, I will definitely show up for myself no matter the temperature.  So make a date with a friend for a walk on the highline, ice skating in central park, or to organize a touch football game. Or use your lunch hour run an errand at a store about 10 blocks away. Or bike to work instead of cabbing it or taking the subway. If you supplement that with some weight-bearing exercise in your warm, cozy home or in the less warm, cozy gym, you’ll be golden.

Now about food…cravings are our bodies’ way of telling us we are lacking in something. So listen carefully but don’t jump to the first conclusion. For example, sometimes when we crave salt, we are actually thirsty. If you wake up dreaming of French fries, have a nice big glass of water and maybe some tea and see if that salty urge passes after 20 minutes or so. Or sometimes it means that you need certain minerals like potassium, so try a banana. If all else fails, have some salted nuts like pistachios or almonds, a seaweed snack or an over easy egg with a touch of salt instead of something with zero nutrition like potato chips.

Indulging in fatty foods in the winter may be an American tradition, but so is overspending and invading sovereign nations – and you don’t want to participate in any of those. Craving grilled cheese is our body’s way of telling us that we should transition with the change of season and start eating hardier and more warming foods instead of the salads and smoothies of summer. And oddly enough, these are the kind of foods that Mother Nature provides to us from the earth in the winter. Root veggies like carrots, parsnips and beets provide that kind of healthy grounding energy that pizza and wings do not. Beans and dark leafy greens like kale also do their part at this time of year to provide warmth and sustenance. A bowl of freshly-made soup (avoiding the creamy ones)  will definitely satisfy that fatty urge without adding what you don’t want which is…fat.

Now, let’s tackle that desire to hibernate and isolate. Although many of you know that I am a huge proponent of sleep, too much  can throw off your sleep cycle, cause insomnia, and can exacerbate depression. I may want to pull the covers over my head and get an extra hour (or two) of sleep at this time of year, but when I do I’m often listless and cranky for the rest of the day instead of rested and energized. That’s because there’s a difference between sleepiness and fatigue. If you get up and move around and you’re still tired…then you are actually tired. If you force yourself to get up and you feel normal after 10 minutes or so, then you were just sleepy.

So now that you’re up is it up is ok to plop back down on the couch and settle in for a long winter’s marathon viewing of Homeland or Scandal? Uh…again, no. During the winter, we’re not running around with tons of social engagements etc., but we still need to keep our minds busy, and not numbed by passive entertainment (well, not all the time.) This is a great time to get organized (oh, I get such a thrill even thinking about organization, but that’s just my sickness!) Clear out a closet, put together a new photo album, or rearrange your kitchen cabinets or desk. It’s also the perfect time to catch up with old friends via the phone or letter. I would warn not to do this last task electronically lest you be pulled into the digital abyss of Facebook, games and online shopping.

Or you could learn a new skill/hobby like jewelry-making or knitting, or vegetarian cooking (hey, I made that necklace to the left.) You don’t even need to leave the house…there’s tons of online videos to coach you. Perhaps, it’s time to write that novel or short story you recite in your head when you should be listening to your husband.

But, of course the danger in the above activities is isolation: the insidious precursor to the winter blues. It’s challenging to feel connected and engaged when all you favorite people are holed up in their comfy nests. So we need to fight that. If you don’t want to get dressed in heels and a cute top and venture to some cavernous, noisy restaurant when it’s 35 degrees out, then offer to host something at your place. A game night, a soup-tasting, a clothing swap or even a tea party are fun and warming ways to bond with friends without venturing outdoors or spending a lot of money earmarked for holiday gifts or that much-needed Caribbean escape in February.  Don’t feel like cleaning your house in preparation for guests? Then encourage a friend to host. Or at least meet at a nearby movie theater or museum.

There’s a reason why gyms sit and wait for us fat turkeys to waddle in come January.  It’s common to eat our way through the holidays and snuggle on the couch transfixed by Carrie and Brody’s failed attempts to bring the truth to light, but it’s not natural. No matter what the calendar says, we still need to eat well, move our bodies and connect to one and other. That being said, it’s ok to indulge on occasion during holiday celebrations. Even a squirrel gets lucky with a forgotten Twix bar now and then.

Please feel free to share your healthy holiday tips with me.

PS. I just made that carrot soup pictured above - if you're interested, I'll send you the recipe.

 

I am the Cleaning Woman

The other day a dear friend-- and a devoted reader of this blog-- posted that workmen in her new house were amazed that she herself had come in to clean and do a bit of painting – they were even more impressed that she actually knew what she was doing. My friend’s new house isn’t in Southampton or upper Park Avenue; it’s in a quiet middle class Long Island community. So why should a woman cleaning her own house with some acumen be an anomaly, I wondered.

I didn’t grow up in a house with a cleaning woman but many of my friends parent’s used one.  My middle class neighborhood was populated mostly by second generation immigrants from Eastern Europe, Italy and Ireland.  Perhaps having a cleaning woman distinguished them from their working class upbringings and signaled success in the new world. Either way, having an outsider come in and touch your stuff just seemed weird to me – just the way plastic-covered furniture that was off-limits to unreasonable activities like sitting, seemed…well, unreasonable.  Oftentimes, my friends would say that we’d have to play at my house because their mother needed to clean up before the cleaning lady came. Again I was puzzled.

But those same friends were deliriously happy to visit my home. They were in their own personal nirvana in my little mess of an apartment. My mother, God bless her beautiful but somewhat disheveled soul – did not inherit the cleaning gene.  Making up kooky poems, sitting on the floor cross-legged inventing games, or doling out salty or sugary snacks was her forte.  No one wanted to leave – and sometimes they didn’t.  Two of my closest friends actually moved next door to us after a time – I think just to be even closer to residing in our messy two-bedroom apartment.  

I loved my mother and was deeply proud of her warmth and joie de vivre. But as I grew older, I became a bit ashamed of our place with too many dusty tchotchkes, Christmas tree tinsel still embedded in the carpet in February, and unmade beds. So I learned to clean. Turns out, it’s definitely in my genes. 

Over the years I learned many cleaning tricks and tips from my late father. Boy, he was a maniac when it came to a sponge. No corner was left untouched. I remember once when he came to visit me at my current apartment and asked what I used to mop up damp spots on the bathroom sink after one had washed their hands. I had to reply, “uh…nothing, I guess.” It had never occurred to me. Now I have a lovely blue microfiber cloth by the sink for this purpose and think of him every time I un-dampen the counter.  

I’ve also picked up a lot of knowledge about more natural ways to clean your home and have eschewed many store-bought chemical-laden cleaners in favor home spun  solutions. For example, I now clean my tub and toilet with baking soda and I am still stunned by how much more it sparkles. F.U. scrubbing bubbles, you go nothing on me! Vinegar and water has replaced Windex (how can you ever trust anything that blue?) You have to get used the sour smell but it dissipates quickly. And I know that no one is breathing in anything toxic.

Is cleaning fun? No, not always, but it is satisfying and more than that, it brings me closer to what is mine and what is important. Karl Marx, always a personal hero of mine, wrote much about alienation from our labor in the industrial age. He worried that assembly line workers would no longer care about their products the way artisans and craftsmen did when only given a small abstract portion of the entire work. That’s kind of what I feel about my home. It’s mine because I do know each and every corner, nook and cranny and just how grimy, dusty or newly clean it may be. I know what’s in my closets. I know what’s in my pantry and what’s hiding under the bed.  I see what I have and I appreciate it as well.

And, as I dust along the baseboards I remember when my husband and I painted them now six years ago. We sweated and cursed. We spilled and ran back and forth to the paint store, but we enjoyed the process – because we were turning his white-walled bachelor pad into a colorful new home for us to share.

I have many dear, busy friends who simply do not have the time, the energy (nor the desire) to clean their own homes and that’s fine.  In fact, I’ve always admired the faith it takes to turn that responsibility over to a relative stranger. There are other ways to connect to your environment and feel a deep appreciation for it.  My mom made our house a home by collecting way too many mementos, by hanging up every scrap of paper painted by me and my sister along with our poems and stories, by having cookie   jars and candy bowls everywhere and by leaving our Christmas tree up for months.  This is what made her feel happy and safe and so I forgive her from messiness. Just as she forgives me as I surreptitiously clean her bathroom when I visit.

 My mom (right) has always preferred to focus on coordinating her outfits rather than  ridding her home of pesky cobwebs.