"It Had to Be Said"

This morning I helped out at the elementary school library again. Punchy's class wasn't there--I think they go once a month on average--but a fourth-grade class was, and I loved checking out their picks....the true story of a shipwreck, one of the A Series of Unfortunate Events books and North Carolina, a slim hardback all about that state.

The children line up, waiting for "Mrs. Hurley" to type in the bar code [the electronic scanner is on the blink] and stamp the due date. They wear jeans, speak politely--they have to tell me their first and last names so I can look them up and see if they have outstanding books--and some of the girls have cute hairdos. I looked at some of them, ponytails and hair ties aside, and remembered Moey and me as fourth graders....we loved reading, too. Every library book was, and is, a gift, on loan from the gods. Something that took us to other worlds. We had square, light blue library cards, very official, for the Dixon Homestead Library on Washington Avenue in Dumont.

I can't help talking to the kids about their choices, affirming their taste [Oh, I've listened to Lemony Snicket on tape, have you?] and saying things like Do you like to read? I love to read. I wish I had more time for it. After all, I only have a minute to interact with each one. But I try to connect in a positive way and with a direct glance. I like to see them, to peek into their little selves. Notice them.

I shouldn't divulge personal details but at one point, a little lad was acting up and made a funny comment during a group reading session. The very patient literacy specialist, who is also in charge of the library, asked him to stop interrupting.

It had to be said, he replied.

This has to be said, as I sit in Java Love on Church Street. I realized today that it might tap your patience to be reading my daily $ MONEY OUT OF POCKET lists. I'm not frugal, I know.

I thank you for reading it.

It reminds me of when I went to the pretty brunette nutritionist based in my doctor's office on the Upper East Side. At the first visit, she gave me a food tracking sheet and asked me to write down everything I ate for a week, until we met again. At that point, she would review it and make suggestions, set up an eating plan, with snack suggestions and all. But that first week, that was an account of the pizza, the pasta, the absence of veggies and fruit....

So what you are seeing now is the extended version of my first week record, but with money, not food. And this may take a while.

I do think that by seeing it, I am able to be more aware.

Signing off from inside Java. I feel like I'm sitting in a little snow globe, flakes swirling outside.

$ MONEY OUT OF POCKET

• Blue Mercury beauty store. My friend Rachael has been telling me for a while about Laura Mercier Lip Glacé in "Sparkling." She said it looks great over or without lipstick. We both like fashion, beauty and food. She is a health coach! $27 plus tax. $28.79.
• Cafe Giotto on Church Street at 1 p.m. after eating a banana for bkfst on drive to school, depositing Punch and helping in library from 9:30 to 12:30. Freshly made, lunch-size gnocchi Bolognese, yum, $15.50, plus jar of La Carmela I Filetti tomatoes imported from Italy, $5.50. I love the little pantry at the cafe. Plan to use tomatoes to make eggplant dinner tonight or tomorrow. $22.39 w tax. $3 tip. Because I knew I would be posting here, I resisted the jar of imported avocado spread, which looked good. My blog readers were looking over my shoulder, crowding into that tiny corner pantry, as I picked the jar up and put it back. $25.39.
• Across the street to Java Love, where I had earned a free beverage [after purchasing 10]. Got a large decaf coffee and slender, crunchy chocolate espresso biscotti. $2.08 plus 92 cents for tip jar. $3.
• This was definitely a mistake, throwing money to the wind: When I was walking to parking garage, realized I only had cash, 2 twenties, and did not want to get a ton of those dollar coins back from the payment machine. So I stopped in Chocolate Works, right across the street, to break a twenty. Got some loose candy by the pound, a few Swedish Fish, etc. to share with Punch. True waste of money for meager amount--and worse yet, when I did put a ten into the machine, it spit out paper bills in change. So now I know. $4.41*.
• Prices increased, not good--municipal parking garage for 3 hours and 15 min., but got charged for 4 hours. I guess they round up. $8.
• After therapy with Punch, she loves Little Bear Poke, right nearby. It's pricey but as I've said, she often eats nothing all day due to ADHD meds for school. Little Bear is very fresh, good and sustainably sourced. We both ate dinner here, and she even got a second crispy rice bowl with spicy tuna to have for lunch tomorrow. [She's hoping school will be closed due to bitter cold. Stranger things have happened.] I had a salmon/brown rice bowl, delicious. The "we miss you" email with 20 percent coupon code shaved bill down to $26.30 + jar tip, $28. Then Mini Miss asked for green tea Bing Bing cone snacks [made in Korea], 3 for $1.50., to share w a friend. Tax, a dime. So $29.60.

TOTAL: $99.19

*Turns out Punchy doesn't even like giant gummy blue sharks and chocolate-dipped Swedish Fish. It was a lose-lose spend all around.

White Rain: Outdoor Showers

When my parents had the Cape Cod house built in the late 1970s/early 1980s, they added an outdoor shower--typical at beach houses so you can wash off all the sand and, at least in the Cape breeze, dry off pretty fast./I wasn't too excited about using the outdoor shower. I was 19, modest and felt exposed out there, just me and a bar of soap under an open sky./The inside bathroom window looks right out over the outside shower, so I didn't like that, either./To make matters worse, the teen boys who lived next door year-round once climbed a tree while I was in the outdoor shower and laughed and hooted. I was mortified./In later years, I became friendly with the mom and daughter from next-door. And I got to know one of those pranksters, now grown way beyond those teenage years. He is husband, father, hard worker,/This all came back tonight when Punchy was conditioning her hair in the shower at home with Pantene. We agreed that we love that scent, and then that took me back to summer vacations in Beach Haven, NJ, and the outdoor shower at the Quinns' house. They were one of the nicest families I've ever known and their outdoor shower felt all beachy and I smelled so good./I wish I could bottle that sweet memory--of a carefree summer day when George and Vera Quinn and my parents were still alive and vibrant, when our men first walked on the moon; and when Carole Quinn and I "pool hopped" in the hotel swimming pools and fiound starfish on the beach./Good night. P.S. I love the seahorse towel hook in our Cape Cod shower.

TCOY

1. Support group.
2. Went to book group; lots of laughs and insights. Also ate lots of salad and fruit and sipped a flute of Prosecco and OJ.
3. Made avocado toast w fresh lime juice.
4. Walked back from grocery store.

Happy Birthday, Dear Punchy

Hey, Punchy! If you're reading this post sometime in the future--if you somehow come across it--allow me to recount the details of your eighth birthday:

• You woke at 7:30 to the scent of brownies baking. One of two big pans I cut into hearts and flowers using metal cookie cutters.
• You got to school early for your Wednesday morning gymnastics class that starts at 8:10. You wore the beautiful silver birthstone necklace Auntie and Don gave you.
• You wore the wonderful shirt Ms. Warren gave you, and your favorite gray gymnastics pants. Ms. Warren is your beloved aide and best advocate at school.
• I came in to the classroom at about 2:30 with strawberries, a jug of water and the brownies. Your classmates and you were very sweet. They sang Happy Birthday.
• I drove you home, and we stopped in town to get wine for the adults coming over tonight and pretty party plates for the pizza and cupcakes/brownies we served in our dining room.
• You wanted to stop in the cute kids' shoe store in town. I agreed. You tried on black ballet flats, high-top purple Converse, metallic silver Birkenstocks. You finally settled on a really cute pair of slip-on canvas sneakers in a bright print. We got a pack of bright socks, too.
• We went to Montclair Stationery and you picked out colorful plates. We chose football stickers for Stephen and firetruck stickers for William as favors. We had a pair of lacy white anklets for Baby Catherine and pretty little bracelets for you, Nikki, River and Figgy [who is coming to see you tomorrow]. 
• I put another pan of brownies in the oven--because that's the "cake" you wanted tonight--and then drove you to gymnastics [late]. We left H. to take the brownies out at 5:30.
• Friends came over at 6:30--Aunt Moey, the Kretz family with baby girl, Mr. & Mrs. and Nikki Mernin, River and her Mom. We had pizza from Villa Victoria, fresh blueberries, lemon water, Cupcakes by Carousel and those brownies. We sang Happy Birthday.
• You got lovely gifts. We got you some sewing stuff--a mermaid to sew, a gift card to the sewing store, some quilting squares. Figgy called you today. So did Grandma Mary, Mimi, Auntie. The Byrams sent flowers from Maine! And you got a special delivery to our door of glittery carnations with a Hello Kitty necklace from the cats and the girls at Bartlett's Greenhouse!!!!!!! Wow!!!!!!!!! Your Mom texted to say she sent an e-card with a recording from her.
• We're all tired now. You're sound asleep. I'm about to follow, after I take the trash out. Good night.
• May your birthday always bring you joy and the warm, cozy feeling of knowing you are loved and cherished. You, Punchy, make the world a much better place. We are so thankful for you. May you live long and well and enjoy many, many birthdays. You are a wonderful girl. Keep the faith. Stay strong. 

TCOY

1. Boot camp.
2. Salon blowout.

Soul Sisters

Moment to remember from Wonderview Cottage in Searsport, Maine. Monday, July 7, 2014. Figgy putting my chiffon scarf on Punch. It didn't stay there for long. I love this moment. Figgy and Punch--I hope you come across this some day when you're older and can recall how it felt to adore one another. I hope this blog is still accessible somehow when decades have passed. Soul sisters indeed, with Daddy/Dan, God and me as your witnesses.

Love, Mommy/Alice/Alison

Back to the Girl Who Needed a Mom

Spent the evening with Moey and her mom, Mrs. C., and Moey's daughter, Laura.

I love seeing Mrs. C. She was/is like a second mother to me, as I've blogged about before. I'm so grateful that she and Moey walk the earth at the same time I do.

I'll never forget seeing her on the morning my Mom died--May 20, 1981. The doctor had called early in the morning with the news [just like Dad later did, she slipped away at the hospital before dawn, when none of us were there to hold her back].

I walked the 10 minutes to Saint Mary's Church as if on autopilot, rounding the bend at Manhattan Terrace, crossing the railroad tracks, heading to the polished pews I had sat on so often with my mother. It just seemed the right place, the only place, to go. I studied the stained-glass windows, blurry through my tears, the white marble altar, the statue of Mary. I knelt, and I cried. And when I left to walk back home, who was outside in her car but Mrs. C., dropping her youngest son, Jimmy, off to Saint Mary's School.

She said something kind to me. I don't remember what it was, but it was kind. And even Jimmy had compassion in his eyes, wearing his Catholic school uniform with navy sweater vest. He ended up being a psychologist and I figure he must be pretty good at his job based on the look in his eyes that day when he was only maybe 11.

Mrs. C., an angel in my midst. Good night.

TCOY

1. Private Benjamin with H. All I can say is, God bless Joanna for having the patience and insight to hear us out and offer suggestions.
2. Walked Sug around block, and walked home from Private Benjamin appointment.
3. Had some salad.

P.S. Dear God, I'm confused about whether we're doing the right thing regarding some issues. Please look down on us and help us see clearly and calmly. Please help us do right by the young ladies in our home [Figgy + Punch]. Amen.

The Little Pony Party

The birthday girl, fourth from left, in the LOVE sweatshirt. The ponies at Sunday's party at the Garret Mountain stables were Kibbles [shown] and Pebbles, and the kids all got a lesson in grooming and some rides around the indoor ring. Then back to our house--which H. and Punch had jazzed up with Little Pony decorations--for pizza and cake. Punch really wanted Figgy there, too, and it turns out you're never too old to get excited about pizza, birthday cake and ice cream, as Fig and her four friends proved. Good night.

TCOY

1. Slept late.
2. Went on Whole Foods grocery shopping/label sleuthing tour led by Diana, boot camp friend and now nutrition expert who lost 75 pounds. Patsy and I took the tour. Hope to blog about it tomorrow.
3. Bought healthy groceries on tour: carrot juice, dinosaur kale, organic baby spinach, raw daikon radishes [like long, fat carrots], guacamole with kale in it, salmon, more. Roasted the radishes, cut up; pan-browned the salmon; had some raw dinosaur kale; sauteed spinach.
4. About to reply to a friend who sent me a caring email.

Mini Catwoman

Just another day at family-run Bartlett's Greenhouses and Florist in Clifton......flower shop extraordinaire and home of feline twins Coco and Chanel, whom Punch has loved visiting since she arrived in August. Photos from last week.

Nancy Bartlett and her sister have golden hearts. Here she is holding Coco. She will drop everything and help Punch find the kittens. And she's superkind to me, a grace note in my life.

In my office.

With the twins.

With the man she adores.

Punch is such a good mommy to the kittens and to her dolly, Rosetta, diapering and covering her and making baby food.

 TCOY

1. Healthy lunch.
2. Dressed up to feel polished today.
3. Private Benjamin.

Happy Halloween

A bit too deflated and over-sugared to write much. Hence, I retreat to the photo essay. Good night.

TCOY

1. Private Benjamin with H.--helpful.

2. I asked H. to get me a salad and he did. Delicious. To counteract all that junky candy. Mistakes were made.

3. Trick or treated with my friend Anne and her daughter Nikki [pictured with Punch]. Good to catch up while they scurried up steps ringing bells.

4. Gold-star tooth care. I'd like that to be a daily constant.

5. Walked Sug around block.

Halloween Parade & Party

Every year, generous neighbors host a parade and party for the block. Some photos:

H. with blue Smurf paint and Punch as Cinderella.

Sisters.

Patsy's daughter, Maddy, helps Punch back up from the creek. It's hard to maneuver stepping stones in Cinderella glass slippers.

Punch adores Oliver.

Good night.

Jet-Puffed Heaven

Busy day--and also a day of facing some hard truths about myself in Private Benjamin appointment with H. after a months-long hiatus from couples therapy. It's hard to face the truth.

Worked hard....then H. and I went to the Nishuane School Picnic with Punch this evening, with our picnic basket full of sandwiches and green grapes....then popped by Patsy and Andy's to sit around the fire pit and roast hotdogs and marshmallows.

So simple...that old-fashioned joy.....popping the puffy confection on a skewer or stick and twirling it over a flame. Generations of Americans have done it. I love that Punch was there. I don't know what the future holds, but I know it's only pure good for a little girl to play tag with kids in the dark, carry a glow stick and sit under a moonlit sky with people who love her. I also know it's good to have a Dad or stand-in Dad who goes out in the dark to the front lawn, where you left your baby doll, so that he can retrieve her and you can cover her up for the night.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Boot camp in the park. Pretty day, tough workout, great friends.
2. Private Benjamin.
3. H. made huge green salads for himself and me at lunchtime.
4. Lots of ice water.

Kittens and Mice Wearing Ribbons and Coats

This is the first of three we read tonight.

I like reading Punch the Beatrix Potter books at bedtime, about kittens, field mice, bunnies, foxes and ducks.

She loves them, too.

Funny, Brian and Heidi gave us the complete set when Figgy was born and I have tucked in my memory my mother's fondness for these tales. But we really didn't read them much with Fig.

It's odd to be reading stories to a little girl when my little girl has just moved to college.

Good night.

TCOY 

1. Boot camp in the park.
2. Private Benjamin--facing some tough stuff.
3. Ate some watermelon at Elly's.
   

Father's Day Moment

 

My next-door neighbor, Sophie, dressed as Marcel Marceau, the famous mime--as her Dad, Dean, does the lawn.

Soph is ready for the wax museum at school tomorrow, when the kids portray famous characters.

Happy Father's Day to the Dads....the lawn crew, the grocery shoppers, caretakers, workers, breadwinners, inventors, baby walkers, weed whackers, practical jokers, coffee makers, grillers, campers, diaper-patrol people, drivers, lasagna makers, hikers, soccer players, bikers, campfire builders, softball players, TV watchers, newspaper hounds, visionaries, big dreamers and advocates.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Rested well.
2. Planted flowers.
3. Watched "Mad Men."

The Tiny White Sock

At 17 and 6, Fig and Punch see things through girls' eyes.

Today I found a snowy white baby sock filled with 15 pennies.

Whenever Punch comes to visit, she gravitates to the baby shoes I've saved. A pair of Fig's, with bear faces, and a pair of hers, pale green Robeez Soft Soles bought early one morning at Whole Foods in West Orange when she was in the shopping cart. The shoes are worn from the times she was here to crawl with us. I keep the little white socks she wore tucked inside. [I also have one lone white Isotoner ballerina slipper with a red poinsettia on the toe--I clearly remember my jolly preschool Figgy wearing those. When Punch arrives at our house, she will often--like a determined Cinderella--squeeze her foot into it to show us it fits.]

It seems that the last time Punch was here, she was pushing the brown plush monkey in the broken dolly carriage. She must have fashioned a makeshift purse from the sock, in case she needed to buy her monkey a make-believe banana. Every mommy must be prepared--and no baby must go hungry.

It reminds me of when I used to wash the quilt with pink and blue hearts and hang it out to dry in the sunshine and breeze, draping it over the old wood drying rack we bought in Kennebunkport years ago. Young, mischievous Figgy would spot it, get a glint in her eye, and turn it into a fort. Soon she and a pal would be playing under the folds. At 17, she is still brimming over with mischief given the right circumstances.

Do we have to lose this gift of transformation when we grow up? Do we see a basket and a checkered dish towel as a nice place to put muffins, rather than as a fairy tent? Do we mistake socks as footwear rather than penny purses?

I'm grateful for the girls in my midst. For their way of looking at something mundane and seeing something magical. What about the girl in me, the one who played with squishy red berries on the front steps, imagining them as food for her dolly Karen/Pudding? I hope she is still here. Actually, I know she is.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Important reading.
2. Boot camp in the park on glorious sunny day.
3. Worked productively--beginning to see that reporting/writing efficiently can foster TCOY, rather than push against it.
4. Made chicken and sweet corn.
5. Walked Sug around block.
6. Put votive candles in two glass holders and suspended them with ribbon from the apple tree in our front yard. Maybe I do know how to turn mundane into magical. I love looking at the light flickering in the garden.

Oh Mary, We Crown Thee with Blossoms Today

A crown of another kind: Figgy made this ring of flowers in February and wears it fairly often. My Italian grandmother, Rosie, did piecework using fake flowers.

That post title is part of a song we sang during the May Procession at Saint Mary's when I was a girl. Eighth grade was the pinnacle. On a warm, fertile spring night in 1975, we slipped out of our school uniforms [navy and white plaid pleated skirt; short-sleeved white cotton blouse with collar; navy blue vest; and navy blue knee socks], zipped ourselves into beautiful pastel or white dresses, wriggled into L'eggs suntan pantyhose and fixed our hair--as though we were going to a dance, except we weren't. I can still remember climbing carefully up the church steps in a pale blue dress that had been Sis's, hoping those clinging pantyhose wouldn't run.

One lucky eighth grader* got to place a crown of fresh flowers on the Blessed Mother statue in church while the rest of us--her court, as it were--lined up in the aisle, each holding a giant mum [I think it was yellow or white, and I loved burying my nose in the petals and inhaling the fragrance] at the end of a highly polished pew, and sang. We all later filed forward and put the blooms in vases near Mary.

Today when I went to Saint Cassian's, the Mary statue looked new and different to me. I don't know, maybe it's not, but for some reason, Mary's hair looked longer, her skin a little more cocoa-colored. Her image was still peaceful, tranquil, graceful and beautiful. Womanly, feminine, kind. Someone you could trust and pray to. Someone my mother and her mother prayed to. But did she have a new hairdo, a bit more tousled and flowing? A touch of bronzing powder? I hope it's not sacrilegious to write that. [You see, Catholic rules and fears run deep.]

My trip to Mass was more meaningful for having seen Mary today. And as I got my Communion wafer, I turned to take a quick look at her bare feet. Yes, I think I saw the Devil there--the snake at her feet, the villain conquered by virtue. When we were girls, someone gave Sis a Blessed Mother statue and it was in our room. I was always fascinated and scared by the serpent at her feet. But perhaps I learned a larger lesson--that it was a serene woman in a male-dominated hierarchy who had kept bad will at bay.

Good night.

*When it was our year, our priest in long black cassock gathered us all in a classroom one afternoon and picked the name out of a hat. The lucky girl in our group was Donna Maione, who later became a fashion designer in NYC and later still, had twins.

TCOY

1. Support group, and long talk with supportive friend who has been down this road before.
2. Mass at Saint Cassian's [see Mary sighting, above].
3. Long walk with Sug to Iris Gardens.
4. Planted my petunias.
5. Made healthy dinner--salmon, sauteed baby spinach, brown rice.

Little Green Diary: Weighty Issue

I've stumbled upon some code words in my diary that I no longer understand. Unfortunately. I put one in pink--maybe you can figure it out ;)

I was never really overweight as a child, so it's surprising that I was going on a diet at age 12. That's girlhood in America for you. It's even worse now; the obsession can kill you. [Rest assured, I wasn't so good at sticking to those plans.] I do remember my Mom and her friend Vera doing Atkins....and one of them baking an Atkins cheesecake.

March 13, 1973 [age 12]: I played with I. and Lynn. Had G.S. It was beautiful. One week from today is Spring! Really went on a diet! Bifsore. 

March 14, 1973: Stuck to Bifsore. Drank water. Had gum instead of food. It rained during school. I played with Linda. Studied His. Mom went to opera.

March 13, 1974 [age 13]:  Mommy is at the opera with Rita Blake. I got 100 in Science. Lorraine was absent with a cold. I called her. Deb T. is also sick. Irene and I talked. 

TCOY

1. Boot camp in the park. Gorgeous day.
2. Walked Sug around block.
3. Bento box lunch special, $10.11 counting tax.
4. Nap. 
5. Listening to my CDs on laptop while I work. Diana Krall, smoky! And also audio version of The Outermost House. 

Keeper of My Girlhood Dreams

This was the original Dixon Homestead Library in our town. We climbed steep steps to get upstairs. The house was built in the late 1700s by Derick Banta, a Revolutionary soldier. Sarah Dixon willed it to the town in 1929.

Figgy tonight. She is naturally auburnish, especially with summer sun streaks, but.....

As Fig was coloring her hair [L'Oreal Intense Red Copper] upstairs in the bathroom--don't ask, the girl likes experimenting, against my advice that she should embrace her natural shade--applying makeup and generally babbling with one, then two, then three of her school friends, I was on the phone with my childhood friend Lorraine tonight.

Our chat was long overdue. We've been playing phone tag. And suffice it to say that life doesn't always deal us the hand we hope for and expect.

Hey guys, this is one of my closest high school friends on the phone, I said proudly to Olivia, Maggie and Charlene, hoping in my heart that they and Figgy might stay in touch as life marches on--in studded boots and cheetah fur Creepers.

I've been thinking of Lorraine a lot during Fig's senior year of high school. We grew up together. We walked to Uncle Frank's pizza parlor, where Lorraine bought me a slice for my birthday in fifth or sixth grade. Later, we talked jeans, body image, haircuts, boys. We walked to the Yarn Center, a Dumont shop where we learned to crochet vests in the seventies. [The two ladies there also helped me crochet a pair of gray mittens for my good Irish grandfather, whose fingers were crooked and bent.] We laughed tonight over memories of Lorraine's 16th birthday, when I went over to her house for Saturday dinner. Her dad was a kind, hardworking shoemaker, an Italian immigrant, and her mom famously made her own pizza!---and every Saturday night, she broiled steak. I got a backyard lounge chair for my birthday, Lorraine said. And my mother took pictures of us sitting on it that night.

Next week, Moey and I are going to meet Lorraine halfway and have lunch. Should be fun.

Good night. 

TCOY

1. Support group.
2. Walked Puff around block with H.
3. Have been listening on my laptop to the audio version of The Outermost House, one of my favorite books about Cape Cod. Sis gave me the CD version for my birthday!
4. Made applesauce.

Little Green Diary: First Dance with "Blazer"

Oh, how clever girls who write in diaries are. They have little golden keys and colored pens and secret code words, so prying eyes won't understand. Here's what happened 37 years ago. I know because I wrote it in my diary.

May 16, 1975 [age 14]: Washington was great! Saw memorials, Capitol, Smithsonian Institute, Arlington National Cemetery, boat ride--Blazer** fun!

May 17, 1975: Like Blazer. We had Cadette car wash 9 to 3. We made about $90!

May 18, 1975: I have a cold.

Blazer was my pseudonym for the boy I liked, who was in my eighth-grade class @ St. Mary's. The first boy who ever asked me to dance. He had on a purple shirt. I remember how wonderful it felt--the being asked, the dancing on the boat ride. But then pretty quickly I also felt bad, because it turned out that a close friend of mine liked him, too. I remember her tears. I got off the dance floor and found her crying on another part of the boat.

It's all or nothing in this world. Up or down. In or out. Happy or sad. Roses or thorns.

Good night.

**I just told Figgy about the dance with Blazer. Why Blazer? she asked. The answer was it was the 1970s, blazers were big and I had my first ones, which I brought on the trip to D.C.

TCOY 

1. Haircut with amazing Johnny @ Bangz.
2. Worked on a project with Patsy. Love working with her.
3. Private Benjamin. Therapy is hard but helpful.
4. Nice phone chat with Sis.
5. Going to bed. Tired.

Mother's Day, Looking Back

Florence Shop--where I chose the wrong gift. Great photo from bergenfieldhsalumni.com.

Here's what I remember. My Sis being generous and buying nice things for Mom that we would all chip in on a little--like a mother's ring with our four birthstones. [I don't know where that went, come to think of it.] Dad giving me some money to get Mom something and me picking out a gift that was youngish, I guess, like a patterned peach shirt from the Florence Shop in Bergenfield. Do you really think I would wear that? my Mom said to me privately later. She was probably mad at Dad for not picking something out himself. Guess I would be mad in her shoes, too. But I was a teen and she was in her 50s. I did the best I could--I think.

What I hope I will remember from today: The painting Figgy did for me, called "Mother." On the right, it shows a pregnant woman and on the left, a woman holding a baby. In between, a big flower with many petals. And I really like what both she and H. wrote on my card. Also: eggs for breakfast, dinner out, a hanging plant and a walk.

I liked what the priest said at Mass today. He asked us to pray for the mothers among us, and the women battling infertility, and the pregnant ones afraid of being mothers, and the people without mothers. Then he also asked us to pray for the women who don't have their own children but are present for other people's children. I really like that. Because as life moves on, I realize that it's not just my mother and then Dad who mothered me, but also other women who have been present for me, whether they had their own children or not. And I sure have realized how it's not just me who mothers Figgy, though I have worked hard at it and been honored to have the chance. She is also brought up and inspired and shaped and loved by other women who care about her well-being--whether they cross her path once in a dark moment or many times over.

Happy Mother's Day. Good night, sweet dreams.

TCOY

1. Shower with Caress [the peach-colored soap].
2. Mass--3:30 in Mountainside Hospital auditorium.
3. Walk with Fig in day and to Iris Gardens with H. and Sug. What gorgeous, ruffly, frilly flowers, in every color from lavender to sunny yellow to inky black.
4. Watched 2-hour series finale of "Desperate Housewives" with Fig.

Poker

My parents served a lot of meals at this dining room table, the mahogany one with removable leaves. This is the one they bought as newlyweds, the one my mother covered with a Quaker lace tablecloth. The one she topped with a crystal bowl of fat peonies from the little garden out front, under the picture window.

This is the table where we blew out candles for our birthdays--for J.J., Sis, Will, Mom, Dad, me. Plus Uncle Anthony, Uncle Aldo. This is where my mother met with her bridge friends--and where we played board games. This is where she served rib roast and strawberry parfaits in fragile crystal goblets. This is where we had Thanksgiving turkey and apple cider. Easter dinner, Christmas meals. This is the table that was laden with special foods and miniature pastries and a big sheet cake for my grandparents' 50th anniversary party.

But poker at this table? Not until we inherited it. Tonight, H. is at it with our neighbors on the block: Gary, Peter, Andy, Dean and George. They're drinking beer and bourbon. He put out bowls of nuts and a platter with Gouda and crackers. He even bought four good glasses at Williams-Sonoma. They sound like they're having fun.

I have to go to bed. Up early tomorrow to get bus to meet Sis in NYC for a fun event. Good night.

TCOY

1. Boot camp in the park.
2. Got car back from towing lot!!! Thanks to Sis and Don, who drove from CT. so that Sis could sign over Dad's car title. Laptop home safe.
3. Went to Ruthie's Bar-B-Q & Pizza  on Chestnut Street with Figgy. Yum. Saved half my beef brisket sandwich. And Fig got to speak to someone really special, and encouraging. A rise in the road.
4. Saw "The Five-Year Engagement" with Fig. Long but entertaining, and I liked the fashions in it. So did Figgy.

Where My Parents Took Me

We drove down to old Asbury one weekend day.

I just saw a TV-commercial reference to Edgar Allen Poe--reminded me of the time my mother and father took me to the Bronx to visit Poe Cottage. His bed seemed very short. Now I think, how cool that they took me there. How wonderful.

We stayed relatively close to home, but they showed me enough to stimulate my mind and stir my passion to write. Figgy's girlhood is different--she's been to Maine, Nantucket, Martha's Vineyard, New Hampshire, Connecticut, Boston, D.C., Florida, Vermont, Rhode Island, sleepaway summer camp in the mountains and, thanks to Sis, even Greece! [I wonder which things H. and I have done with our Fig that will stick the most...]

Below, other places my parents showed me [alone or with my older siblings]--in addition to the very fertile sands of Cape Cod and Beach Haven, NJ. These visits planted a seed, opened my eyes or helped shape my life's path:

• Bronx Zoo, especially the elephant house
• Old Asbury Park boardwalk
• Empire State Building
• Metropolitan Opera
• Rockaway Beach
• Coney Island
• Chinatown
• Rockefeller Center @ Christmastime
• Saint Patrick's Day Parade in NYC [Mom]
• Patricia Murphy's restaurant or tea room in NYC [Mom and friends with their daughters--and I think I remember popovers]
• Catskill Mountains

Thank you, Mom and Dad. 

Good night.

TCOY

1. Dentist--TCOY for sure.
2. Walked Sug around block once and then walked an hour with Elly! Beautiful day--we saw pink flowering trees, bright azaleas, lovely porches, dwarf irises with colorful names, like Ripe Raspberry.
3. Private Benjamin family appt.
4. Work.