Joan Didion + Prayer

Joan Didion, John Gregory Dunne and Quintana Roo, likely in Malibu, 

or somewhere else on the California coastline. 

Photo by Julian Wasser from here.

I'm reading Blue Nights, a memoir by Ms. Didion. Much of the weave connects moments with and memories of her daughter, Quintana Roo. Quintana was adopted. 

I have loved the author's crisp, precise writing since I took Slouching Towards Bethlehem, an essay collection, from my sister's book shelf in our shared bedroom to read on the long bus ride to Atlantic City to visit my boyfriend. Words carefully parsed, sentences lean and slim, but they say so much. They say everything.

Something in Ms. Didion's steeliness, especially for such a small woman, inspires me. She sees it and says it. I also read that she enjoyed buying beautiful clothing, such a little cashmere sweater, for her girl or herself, sometimes even matching. I did that, too, with Figgy and later, Punch (though not matching for Punch, since she was away from our fold from age 15 months to 6.5 years).  

Dan returned on the red-eye today after being flown out to Palm Springs to write 60-Second Novels at a fancy party at the Dinah Shore estate. He was home by 11 a.m. and then had to leave by 6 p.m. (in an Uber, still no running car) to write stories at a party in NYC, a bar mitzvah.

I was so low. So low about many things. Coincidence that Figgy moved out a week ago yesterday? Did the significance of that escape me? I'm happy for her, and she is happy, building an IKEA dresser with her friend, choosing pretty accent colors for her bedroom, setting up her plants. But with her absence, I'm fretting these days over worries I have about Punch and Young Romeo. With Figgy gone and Dan away, my lens has zoomed in and frozen. I need to zoom out.

Our kitchen sink is backed up. Don't ask, we had an expensive new garbage disposal installed but we can't turn it on until an electrician or two comes to install an outlet under the sink, since this model has a plug. I managed to catch up on all the dishes, by hand (vintage china) and in the dishwasher tonight. I have a half-price-after-Easter pot of tulips on the mantel. Can't tell what color yet, since the flowers keep their secrets in those tight green hoods.

I went on two Zoom support groups today and made two phone calls. I prayed, in fear and desperation. Over the known and unknown, over things I can't control. I think I am okay.

Good night.

Pablum/Baby Food In My Overstuffed Chair

"Gidget" image from here. Problems all neatly solved 

and tied up with a bow by the end of the episode.

Sometimes TV baby food helps when I'm depressed. Spoon-fed mush for the mind.

Consider the first episode of "Charlie's Angels" (1976) or the dated movie "Gidget Gets Married" (1972), with a blonde Gidget/Francie and a surprisingly feminist thrust by the end. Doesn't compare to "Gidget Goes Hawaiian" (1961, Deborah Walley as Gidget, Carl Reiner as her Dad) and "Gidget Goes to Rome," (1963, Cindy Carol as Gidg) but it IS part of the movie series. A big slice of Americana (though white). And I can watch it all for free on Tubi, the streaming service (with ads).

The Screen Gems "Gidget" TV series starring Sally Field was the best. It ran on ABC from September 15, 1965, to April 21, 1966, with reruns after that.

I need more ice water and a tumbler of cold, creamy milk.

Until tomorrow, which I hope is a better day.

I Might Have Written

It is Tuesday, July 18. I might have written of nice summer nights or plunges in the ocean. I took two plunges in the last two weeks—a Wednesday evening one week and a Thursday afternoon the next—playing in the waves at Spring Lake beach on the Jersey Shore, feeling like a girl again. Saltwater, frothy ride, watch what's coming. Swimsuit, the scent of pretty suntan lotion. Wet hair. When you're in the ocean, good bet you are there for fun.

But one, I'm trying to save essays for spaces where I can earn money for them. I have feelers out. 

And two, many of our summer nights are not so nice but rather challenging and stressful, laced with worry and fear.

Fear does nothing for anyone--not for the worrier, nor the object of the worrying--but still, our old foe jumps eagerly to our side, her head coiffed with jagged alarm wires, not soft, springy curls.  

I/we used to think that the adrenaline jolt prompted by fear of missing an article assignment deadline (and displeasing our editor, not being successful) was just a fact, part of the creative process, that we did our best work then. But that is not true. That kind of fear can feed unhealthy habits and erratic behavior, short tempers with family, money wasted on takeout because we are working through dinner times. Instead, we can be organized and trustworthy, do our best work and hand it in on time but not in a state of exhaustion and frenzy. 

We can count on ourselves to count on ourselves.

Still, if only everyone would do what we want in life. We have to meet the goals and character perimeters we set for ourselves, and that is enough to manage. 

Acceptance.

I might have written about the coneflowers (aka echinacea, a native wildflower that draws butterflies, bees, and songbirds), now that Figgy is here and helped us fill the garden. Or about the angel hair pasta with zucchini "cream" (SmittenKitchen.com) that I made at 9:30 tonight, after my support group. (The most involved things about the recipe were mincing garlic and shredding zucchini. I couldn't use my mini food processor, so I used a box grater, and the zucchini was browned, not fresh green like in the photo. Oh well. Acceptance.)

I might have remembered refreshing showers or blueberries from a farm share. On the flip side, I may have written about a call from a Montclair Police detective received on the drive to Spring Lake (this time, not about our child). Or about dashed hopes, dashed in the moment, for now. Stay present. 

I might have written a lot more but that will take pushing Alarm Curls to the side. 

I might have written. 

I plan to write.

Good night.

Steps

Above: "Chatting on the Steps," New York Public Library. LINK here. Photo by xpressbus (xpressbusny@yahoo.com).

My husband, Dan, in yellow, writing by the library steps late last April. Skippy and I drove in with him and are somewhere in the vicinity. :)  https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/14/nyregion/dan-hurley-60-second-novels-covid.html?searchResultPosition=1 Photo by Simbarashe Cha for The New York Times.*

Below, positive steps I took today toward writing my way out of a corner. The first step is getting out of one’s pajamas, made easier today since I slipped in the mud bringing out the compost and my red plaid flannel PJs took the fall. Maybe we mince our steps, or drag them. Maybe we shuffle, but at least we are moving in a direction, covering ground.

1. Ate healthfully.

2. Showered with my friend Aveeno.

3. Filled in brows with brow pencil (a Christmas gift from Skipper, who knew just the right color); combed on mascara.

4.  Slipped into my lavender wool coat, knotted my Burberry scarf at my neck and walked around the block at about 4:30 p.m. I stopped to gaze at the brook on Patton Place--the way the water moves over the rocks, and follows a course..On the way back, I saw a family of kids I like--playing ice hockey on their icy black-top driveway. I walked over to the gate and said hello.

5. Showed up at desk.

6. Made blue cornmeal grits to add a little comfort and zing to dinner, tho Dan would not touch with a 10-foot pole and Skip was at her friend’s.

7. Went on virtual support group (Zoom). #luckyseven

Good night.

P.S. I’m rereading this Wednesday morning. The phone conversation with Figgy from her perch in Florida. How could I forget to list that? That was a big step. We talked for a long time and arrived at some important places. That is not small potatoes.

*That is my Dan’s Superman persona, if you will. Or is Clark Kent? It’s not the way I see and love him in our  life--in plaid shirts and blue Levi’s, clipping NY Times stories he knows I will love. Also, he has a beard in this photo (not now).

I Need to Write My Way Out of This Corner

Above: That looks like an interesting book about a woman who used her words--and, it turns out, loved flowers. Link here to Literary Ladies Guide. 

I must use my words, my mind. Adjectives, adverbs, colors, shapes, details. I must use my words as a painter uses her palette and brushes.

I must use my words.

Indignities/BAJ Lady

When life’s road gets rough, it seems like everything is stacked up against you. 

• Underpants on inside-out.
• CPAP breathing tube detaching from face mask once or twice per night; it wakes you, and you re-adjust.
• Eyeglass frames breaking.
• Hair freshly shampooed with salty potion harvested from California coast (and ordered online months ago) but you didn’t allow enough time to blow-dry or apply makeup before morning drive.
• Big hole in sole of right Tory Burch shoe. Too far-gone after several years of near daily wear (except in summer sandal weather) to be salvaged. But this well-worn pair is a loyal old friend, for sure, offering steady footing in all kinds of weather.
• Tiny piece of white pill stuck to bottom of bare foot. Some family member dropped it and your ample size 11 picked it up. Fortunately, you noticed before shower.
• Brunetti or Dan did not allow Sugar enough time in the green grass yesterday morning and she lowered her white fur skirt and deposited two poos near your closed glass office door during 7 a.m. Zoom support group. Mother’s Day gift, a day late?
• You hate everyone, you told your therapist on your planned call yesterday. You listed some names. “Yeah, and you can add me to your list,” he said. Exactly. At that moment.

Here’s what I wrote in a blog post on Sunday, June 12, 2011, almost 10 years ago:

You know for sure that you're on a dark road when you feel bitter, angry and jealous, when you measure yourself against perfect strangers--and worse yet, friends, the friends you love--and come up short. You even created an acronym for that years ago. BAJ, for bitter angry jealous. BAJ [pronounced BAG] lady. 

Better days ahead, starting now, I trust.

House of Cards

Sometimes, I think if you put the tip of your index finger on the end of our standing family, we would all fall down. That's how precarious it feels when one of us is sad and absent and dark. 

In the past, I have been that person in the mix. I surely have.

But now it is someone else.

I am a strong and resilient woman. I know that. But it's hard to stand by and live with dark depression--even if I make a conscious effort to not put it on my own back, not weigh down my own wings.

I'm hoping and praying, and remembering that the only person I can change is myself.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Nice shampoo lather.
2. Short walk. Want to take a longer one tomorrow!
3. Researched some writing assignments/ideas.
4. Healthy foods eaten: Roasted cauliflower; apple slices with PB; quick, homemade San Marzano skillet sauce with (store-bought) meatballs; and Punchy's fresh pasta! She learned to make it from a demo online. I think all she uses is egg yolks and flour, then rolls out the dough and cuts it. 

A Seed of Strength & Promise of Beauty

I am blessed with many good people in my life. Today, I realized how blessed I am to have a certain friend who exhibits strength, clarity and wisdom. I am so grateful.

Good night.

Bath, Bed & Beyond

Must pull the curtains on this day. Lock the door, zip the purse, close the kitchen, cover the pool, park the car, shut the book, hang up the dog leash, slam the fridge, turn off the sprinkler, shut down the computer, put the lid on the cookie jar, turn off the light, fasten the clasp, blow out the candle, close my eyes. (The only item I don’t really own on that list is a pool.)

Good nite.

FOR SUNDAY--Obligatory Tracking

Black garb.
This is such a scary image, I am scared to paste it here.
I like pictures of pretty things.
I am still afraid of "The Wizard of Oz."
Image from HERE.

I'm still shrouded in darkness, cloaked in isolation. I have been talking to my nuclear family, to my Sis, but I cannot manage too much other communication. Could not return Mother's Day greetings by phone or text, except one. Too hopeless. Too false.

It's a bulky coat, but I want to leave it on--all the while knowing at some level that self-pity is the worst disease of all and that others have problems much heavier to bear, and wear.

I remember once, a few years back, being so depressed that for days, I did not remove the snow-white acrylic fur-trimmed hat that my grandmother bought me at the Florence Shop in Bergenfield. I even slept in it.

So, it's only been what? A week or so or recording this? And it is hella hard to keep up with while dealing with what 12-step programs call "Life on life's terms." But I'm doing my best to record Food and Money even through the depths, where visibility is bad. Or maybe it's crisp and clear, and that's why I'm in pain.

FOOD SUNDAY

• Sal's Gastronomia bagel and lox. Each kit came with bagels, sliced lox, little cups of best smoked whitefish, egg salad, cream cheese and everything bagel seasoning, plus sliced tomato and red onion. My friend recommended it. Over the course of the day, I had 1 3/4 bagels with fixings. 
• Roasted cauliflower with lemon.
• Roast marinated turkey.
• Piece bread with pesto.
• A little mascarpone.
• 4 smallish? Hungry Jack pancakes with butter and pure maple syrup.
• Sliced provolone, multi-grain saltines.
• Glass of milk.
• 1/2 small beet brownie.
• Coffee with whole milk.
• Ice water.
• Cup of iced pink lemonade.
• Glass of Prosecco.
• A little KETO coffee ice cream. Hard as rock. You must let it soften or zap in microwave for maybe 20 seconds. No sugar added.

$ MONEY SPENT OUT OF POCKET

• Sal's, again trying to support local Montclair restaurants, and here, you can also get groceries, so I got 2 balls burrata; tofu; head of cauliflower; blackberries; and raspberries x2. Two bagel boxes at $18 each. A treat. Thank you, Punch said, enjoying a bagel w lox. That was a bright spot. $71.42.
• Nordstrom credit card, hair accessories, including one by Marimekko, $32.80.

Ongoing monthly spend as of May 10: $990.48.

Avg daily spend: $99.05.

________________________________________________

Keep an eye on/compare to previous months:

April: Total monthly spend: $2,143.19.
Avg daily spend: $71.44.

March--the effect of coronavirus quarantine and not working in NYC for now

Total monthly spend as of March 31: $1,916.15.

Avg daily spend: $61.81.

February

Total monthly spend as of Feb. 29: $2,480.34.
Avg daily spend: $85.53.

January

Total monthly spend as of Jan 31: $3,063.60.

Avg daily spend: $98.83.

December 2019 [Christmas and all that entails]

Total monthly spend as of Dec. 31: $3,998.16. 

Avg daily spend: $128.97. 

November

Total spend for November (30 days): $2,979.03. 

Average daily spend: $99.30. 

October

Total spend for OCTOBER 31 days: $2,495.36.

AVERAGE DAILY SPEND: $80.49.

September

TOTAL SPEND FOR SEPTEMBER (30 DAYS): $2,214.43.

AVERAGE DAILY SPEND: $73.81.

August

TOTAL SPEND FOR AUGUST (31 DAYS/PLUS VACAY IN HERE): $2,895.06. ⬆️

AUGUST AVERAGE DAILY SPEND: $93.39.  ⬆️

“Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.”

I'm devouring a book called The Shack and at the beginning of each chapter, the author has a quote. The one in this post title, from Lebanese poet Kahlil Gibran, reached me, went straight to my head and my heart. I kept thinking the words over and over again...a wall between two gardens...beauty and growth on both sides....sadness is but a wall. It really propelled me....I weeded, took long bath, leisurely walk with Sug, enjoyed Dan's salad for dinner and we talked.

TOTAL DAILY SPEND: ZERO [though I did look at Bobbi Brown's website and want to order her chocolate and vanilla powders for smoothies and recipes; both products were out of stock, though, and so was my purse].

RUNNING TOTAL FOR MONTH AS OF JULY 14 [AND STARTING JULY 5]: $675.79.

JULY AVERAGE DAILY SPEND: $67.58.

Big-ticket firecracker items in July: *Marcel bkfast w Punch and loaf of bread, $29; *Tory Burch sandals, $111; Starbucks Camp day, $94 [I subtracted the Bear Mountain pickles and peaches]; Punch bday gifts for friend + tiramisu w Elaine, $37; Joyist to write, + Punch drop-in, $30; one day of Joyist Reset Meal Plan, $35; Elixir of Love body creme, $30.

How Depression Manifests

• It is a big boulder to move. 
• You feel overwhelmed.
• It keeps you in bed.
• It feeds self-doubt. 
• It expresses itself in anger. 
• It doesn't want you to acknowledge the morning sun peeking through the blinds--that would be light. 
• It makes you think that getting in the shower, sliding the glass door, turning the faucet, is a task too big to master, no matter the creamy Olay body wash waiting there.
• It focuses on the weeds in the garden, not the flowers.
• And the cracks in the paint, not the warm history of the house.
• You yell and curse at your family, and alienate your good young-adult daughter.
• You can't hang up that pile of dresses, skirts and tops in the bedroom--not even the cheery pink pineapple one. Of course you can't, especially not that one, because as you once read, pink lifts the spirits of the wearer and those around her or him. That's why you wore it to the hospital when Sis went in for her surgery.
• You lose patience with the doggy.
• Everything looks bleak.
• Your husband can't reach you, though he tries.
• You can't call your sister.
• It is a curse, not a prayer.

But I did finally pray [the Serenity Prayer], and I am out of bed. Took long shower, Olayed, shampooed. I walked to town. I'm writing at Joyist. I felt a pull to the diner next-door--a cheeseburger deluxe was calling--but propelled myself in here for avocado toast with microgreens and radish. The heat is too heavy a blanket for me. I can't manage makeup, except lipstick--or jewelry, just the rings and Champagne diamond on a delicate chain that I always leave on. 

I am grateful I am up and working.

Depression leaves, gets swept out of dark corners, one tiny step at a time. You catch a glimpse of your parents and know they would not want you to suffer like this. One lift of the toothbrush, one cut of dental floss, one squeeze of shampoo. You fight for your happiness.

Have a good day, wherever you are.

$ MONEY SPENT OUT OF POCKET It spiked up--retail therapy but also TCOY.

• Joyist, to write, healthy version of Twix bars [shop-made, coconut and almond flours, no refined sugar, etc.]; avocado toast with greens; and large iced latte, $19.
• Sun Graphics, to scan Punch's multi-page dr. visit/vaccination form into a PDF I could drop into the online Cape Cod CampDoc application. I have never had to do this before--always mailed it. $5.
• U.S. Post Office, a sheet of 18 stamps and a biz-size envelope w postage on it, about $10.50.
• Chelsea Square, Caswell-Massey Elixir of Love No. 1 blue jar of body creme ["The Original Potion for Love Everlasting," something Dan bought me once in a rough patch]. $29.86. I already put a little on my arm and it is intoxicating.
• Joyist, Kacy has a new Joyist Reset Meal Plan for 1, 3 or 5 days. You get at least 5 servings of vegs, 1 of fruit, 1 adaptogen, something fermented, and "loads of fiber and antioxidants--all before dinnertime." The idea is that you can pick it up to go, but I will come at 11 on Monday and be all set to work here. I chose the menu with boosted iced coffee; avocado toast with greens and hard-boiled egg; cauliflower falafel grain bowl w Greek vinaigrette; and superfood trail mix with adaptogen chocolate, $35.
• Montclair Diner since 1923 [Dan out with college friend who is visiting]. Turkey club sandwich, rice pudding and decaf coffee, $15.90 but I left $4 tip because I am sitting here writing for two hours, $20.
• Kings, stopped on my 20-minute walk back home to get a half-gallon whole milk; jar of crunchy PB; Van's Power Grains Waffles; and 2 bars Lake Champlain Chocolates 57 percent dark, on 50 percent off sale, $15.27.

TOTAL DAILY SPEND: $134.53.

RUNNING TOTAL FOR MONTH AS OF JULY 12 [AND STARTING JULY 5]: $675.79.

JULY AVERAGE DAILY SPEND: $84.47.

Big-ticket firecracker items in July: *Marcel bkfast w Punch and loaf of bread, $29; *Tory Burch sandals, $111; Starbucks Camp day, $94 [I subtracted the Bear Mountain pickles and peaches]; Punch bday gifts for friend + tiramisu w Elaine, $37; Joyist to write, + Punch drop-in, $30; one day of Joyist Reset Meal Plan, $35; Elixir of Love body creme, $30.

• 

Wine or Candlelight?

Rough series of days w dark mood in house.
It was really hard and I bought myself a lavender candle from a fir 🌲 farm to soothe my spirits. I figured it could have been wine, cake, chips, dip, cookies--candle was ok.
Talk to you tomorrow.
TCOY

1. Mass. Found some peace and memories of my mother there.
2. Walked Sug around block.
3. Weeded garden.
4. Talked to Sis.
5. Made Garden Pea Soup w leeks and mint--and mint sourdough croutons. Dan, Punch and Punch’s pal all liked it--you stir in a dollop of sour cream [big, if you are Punch and pal] at table.
6. Taking bath tonite.

$ MONEY SPENT OUT OF POCKET

• Kings, Edy’s no sugar added slow-churned vanilla ice cream, snickerdoodle cashew milk frozen cream, organic heavy cream and some 90-calorie coffee pops, $20.58. [I made a big, low-sugar, vegan blueberry crisp, got ice cream to serve with it.]
• Gasoline ⛽️, $5.
• Kings again, the candle from the farm and 1 quart milk, $14.50.
• Starbucks, took P and pal for frappuccinos and cake pops, $15.57.

TOTAL DAILY SPEND: $55.65.

My Heart Feels Small

But these things happened:

• Dan brought me a bouquet of red and white roses.
• I took a hot bath.
• Applied a few drops of Detox Balancing Facial Oil to my cheeks, chin and forehead, and it felt good and looked even better. [The little bottle with dropper arrived in a box in the mail basket Saturday.]
• Started raking leaf-carpeted backyard.
• My dear friend/sitter Elaine delivered a big tray of homemade manicotti and a loaf of bread from an Italian bakery. She does this as a birthday gift every year. She makes the crepes by hand. Tastes so good. Angel.
• I ate some broccoli.
• I did not get a cupcake.
• Had some ice water.
• Read Travels with Alice by Calvin Trillin.
• Reached out to pursue a job opportunity.

It is /is it? entirely possible that my heart feels small because I miss fine dark chocolate, marshmallows, cake, cake pops, cookies and pie. I did not make a Little Daisy Bake Shop stop, as I might have in the past if I felt low. Change is hard. I say fashion softens life--fluffy sweaters, smooth suede pumps are an asset to help you ease on down the road.

For a sugar addict, a pillowy donut or tender butter cookie holds the same allure. But the bitter truth is that the white stuff may feel like armor when life is hard but it really is not. For me, it tends to lead to the next bar, the next cake pop....and then I'm in a battle, a struggle to be free.

I can roll in a huge Trojan horse, Twinkies golden sponge cakes and Devil Dogs concealed inside, but in the end it's just me facing the sugar force. I cannot hide in a fake structure, a decoy. If so, I'm a moving target.

My ticker might also feel small--like a hardened Necco sweetheart/conversation heart--because of trying times with the short person to whom we are legal guardians. Tough times, some sweet messages in between. BE MINE.

$ MONEY OUT OF POCKET

• Java Love, 5:15 p.m., large decaf latte; slender, crunchy chocolate biscotti; $3 Valentine's Day donation to help a group that supports adolescents in need; and $1.11 in tip jar. $11.11.
• CVS w Punch for cough drops since her throat hurts a little and I also let her choose a candy bar [Payday]. $2.85.

TOTAL: $13.96.

Early to Rise & Late to Bed

Above, standing by Clarks Pond, 
where Punchy’s grandparents live. 
We joined for the lovely feast 
and Punch stayed for the weekend.

One treasure next to another, 

the tiny $3 lamp from a thrift shop 

on the Cape and the snowy white popcorn-knit headband from Le Willow 83.

I was in a dark mood on Black Friday over hurt feelings near tail end of 2.5-hr. drive home. I was lost.

But we did a lot w our Punch-free time today. I got to early yoga. Dan went to Home Depot to get mini blinds for our bedroom and bathroom, and installed them. He caught up on our laundry. I went to Gina’s Bakery for a sunflower-shaped loaf for the family and to my support group--and found comfort there. I zipped to the farmers market for pickles and then carried out a fashion mission*, drove to CT with Sug to see Sis’s pretty Christmas tree, walk our dogs by the marina and eat dinner at the Water Club, where I got to see her colorful Cuba pictures.

Then I drove home in a downpour and Dan and I went to see the 10:05 p.m. showing of "Can You Ever Forgive Me?"--starring Melissa McCarthy as Lee Israel, a down-on-her-luck writer who forged letters by famous authors, from Dorothy Parker to Noel Coward. It starts in 1991 and is based on a true story. Now I’m curious about Ms. Israel’s book.

The film was a great NYC period piece. But did we women really dress like that in the 90s? Not like Lee, whose wardrobe was frumpy and masculine, but the other women? I can’t put my finger on it, but It seemed peculiar. Maybe because most of the female characters owned little bookshops--maybe their style was unconventional and artsy. I was wearing short skirts, tights and opaque black tops in the early 90s.

Good night to you.

*I did not complete my fashion mission at the Montclair Farmers Market, which by now many vendors had abandoned. I could not find accessories among the cured sausages and pickle barrels. I was hoping the beeswax candle vendor would still be there, with those buttery yellow treasures, but no--after all, it was a holiday weekend. I had some fashion money from Dan, earmarked for something pretty, and went to nearby Le Willow 83. It’s a luscious edit for toddlers, women and men by chic Christina, who runs bustling Le Salbuen Cafe [w. her husband, John] around the corner, by the firehouse. Oh, the ultra soft, long pastel alpaca wool belted sweater with snowy popcorn knit pocket! Breathtaking. But over $300, so even the small-biz Saturday sale discount couldn’t get me in it. Yet there was the snowy popcorn knit headband, which I love, and beautiful long gold chain dangle earrings. [You also get a 10 percent discount if you eat at the cafe and then purchase something in the boutique.]  I know I can be superficial and materialistic but these purchases lifted my spirit big time. Sometimes a Hail Mary or a walk can work, but sometimes, accessories are the answer. Call me Shallow Al?

Bring on the Crazy

Everything feels off-kilter. Hell Monday.

1. Punch watched too much "Supergirl" on Netflix this evening and freaked out when we said her time was up--even though she had fair warning. It was frightening and upsetting. I believe this is fallout--a reaction related to seeing birth mom and baby sister 8 days ago. Things she wants more of and cannot have? Wanting to control things out of her control? Not liking adults managing her life--adults who can let her down? I am a pocket philosopher, I know.
2. Figgy is so busy with ornithology mid-term, studying hard, working. It seems like every time she turns around from the laptop to talk to me/answer a How are you doing? question, she has a different face mask on [oatmeal, blue clay etc.] I think maybe she has been breaking out from stress or something. I hope she is not taking on too much. This semester, she has organic chemistry; physics; genetics; ornithology; and maybe something else. She has several full-day Saturday birdwatching trips, often a long drive away. And a boyfriend. She is not sleeping enough. God bless.
3. Dan is unhappy and difficult even though he has a great magazine assignment. He rallied to put up our orange Halloween lights and go to CVS for tealights to put in our cute jack-o’lanterns on the mantel but then vanished into darkness of the mind & spirit again. This is all hard to bear when it is prolonged in your partner.
4. And, since everyone has to fall apart together--though no, we’re not really falling apart--even Sug got into the act, biting at a cyst and getting an infection. The vet’s office was crowded, all of us eager to help our cats and dogs. I got there at 3 [late for 2:40 appt, parked where there was no meter, escaped ticket] and left near 4:30 but love Dr. Cameron & Co. And the receptionist, Joyce, who said it was so busy yesterday that she needed roller skates to get around!
5. So what do you think someone attached to the substance sugar does on a day like this? She eats the perfect brownie perfectly wrapped in cellophane that she purchased for Punch, who loves brownies. It was baked in New York for fabulous Cafe Angelique, which has a sister location in the old train station in Tenafly. She was in that town to pick up a turquoise choker from a high-end consignment shop; she had taken 6 months to pay it off. And now that she is home, her hair looks dirty and she is tired and when she tries it on in the bedroom at 9 p.m., the choker does not at all measure up to her glamorous recollection of it. And her young girl acts mean and her dog tries to bite and her husband is angry and her college girl still isn’t home yet. The woman thinks fashion is her armor in a shifting, hard world but sometimes even fashion cannot protect her--or buffer her from the pain.

I pray for peace all around.
The girl went to sleep in her Supergirl Halloween costume, something about feeling protected or strong.
Tomorrow I’m meeting my friend/former editor in NYC for lunch and will bring my laptop to do some work before or after in my inspiring metropolis.
I am flying to Miami Saturday for four days as guest of Sis! I hope my turquoise choker, and my family, will rise to the occasion.
Below, the old train station at 1:54 p.m. today.

Good night.

The Man in the Blue Shirt

It's a really nice Lands' End long-sleeve blue shirt that Sis got Dan for Christmas or his birthday. He looks handsome in it.

He came home from working in the city yesterday--he had a fruitful meeting for a New York Times Magazine article--and tried to talk me out of my depression with the kind of no-nonsense advice he might give as the yellow-hatted, bow-tied 60-Second Novelist--on the rare occasions that he gives advice, rather than telling each subject's story.

It reminded me of the hard-won wisdom from his Grandma Millie, who had a hardscrabble Hell’s Kitchen childhood and later worked in the Tootsie Roll Factory.

Ya don't work, you can't eat. Ya don't eat, ya can't work, she would say. This from a woman about 4 feet tall.

I heard his footsteps coming up the creaky wood stairs in this old house, calling Ali. With Punch away at Mimi's till Thursday, we had time and space to talk frankly.

I could barely get out of bed yesterday. It was superhot. My heart shrunk 10 sizes. I felt bitter, sad, disappointed, disillusioned. Angry. Powerless, I guess. Confused. Everything seemed broken or dead, from the dishwasher to the garden. Poor Sug, she lay in exhausted position by my side, loyal and true. I had to get up a few times to let her out, to feed her. I couldn't answer texts from my Sis, Moey and Lorraine. Could not make plans. Skipped my appt for annual physical and did not call. Could not confirm I would go to therapy today. But then I texted I will come and now I have to get in the shower and go--out in a crackling thunderstorm. It's probably appropriate, to snap me out of my inertia.

Today, Dan made me a list. I normally do this myself. He brought me coffee. I appreciated his kindness. I felt so lost.

TTYL.

The White Led to the Dark

I'm at Sandwich Theory in Montclair now, working in A.C., trusty iced coffee by my side. Punchy is at her friend's, gleefully making slime. We provided some ingredients this time--cornstarch, 3 bottles of glue. I'm picking her up by 5:30 to drive her to 2-hour gymnastics team training.

I may look like a nice woman, saying thank you for my Avocado Dream sandwich [a grilled veggie extravaganza on GF bread] when the young woman with dramatic dark eyelashes brings it to my table; smiling at someone who catches my eye to engage me; greeting Paul, the talented floral designer and candy maker in town when he says hello.

But I am a villain. Trust me.

It began innocently enough. You know I have been doing my best to skirt flour, sugar and alcohol consumption since April. You may have noticed I have not been falling into dark depressions, the ones I have sometimes written about. I have lost about 15 pounds, maybe more. My blood sugars are better. My mood has been calmer and kinder.

Yet here I am again in a cycle of vicious anger, now sadness, guilt, regret and shame.

My OA sponsor's point is that cravings get reduced, disappear, when you stop eating the triggering stuff. That has been the case. How else to explain no urge for the very best fudge, lined up in pans, and an Iced Mocha Sparrow on Cape Cod? No yen for buttery gingery snaps, ice cream and brownies in Maine? It's not as though I felt deprived.

But Saturday night, I had a little fresh cherry crisp at Dan's sister's; no ice cream with it. I wasn't going to, but then rationalized that it was ok, since the topping contained oats and the filling, many freshly pitted dark cherries. Then Sunday, when the family was coming for breakfast before we hit the road, I went to bustling Chase's with Punchy. I didn't feel like cooking when we had to pack up for 450-mile drive. I figured I could stick to a piece of the buckwheat blueberry muffin and small scallion/corn tart. [Buckwheat bread, toasted and buttered, worked well earlier in the trip.] I got a few white flour blueberry muffins, too, and one Cheddar apple scone. I nibbled here and there.

Then, the hellish drive home....11.5 hours....accidents ahead of us and back-ups....fights about cell phone use with Punchy [she uses mine periodically, and I worry about the amount of time and some inappropriate sites]. And....I had not planned my food. So instead of getting the little salami and cheese tray in the food store at the crazy-busy rest stop, I got a Whopper Junior at Burger King. Small, but still white roll. When we stopped for dinner in Massachusetts, after getting the flat tire changed, I got a medium toasted "Thanksgiving sandwich," with turkey and stuffing. White roll. I did not eat sweets, stared down donuts and candy and ice cream. Had pistachios, almond crackers, local goat cheese from a Maine farm. I had many large cups of ice water.

But under the best of times, driving with Dan can be bad. Add some white bread to that mix. It was not pretty. All hell broke loose. [Yet I have noticed that when we drove back from the Cape in May and June, for example, it was not hellish. It must be what I bring to the mix.]

I thought to myself, Figgy has been good. Don't attack her when you get home. But once I saw she had not taken out the bottles from the gathering she had July Fourth or carted the pizza boxes to the curb, I was pissed. Then I noticed that my large, expensive impatiens plant on the stoop was shriveled up and dry. The sink was full of dishes. I saw red. I was even angrier. It was very ugly. I became a she-devil.

And I was still a she-devil this morning.

And here I sit, still wearing a heavy black she-devil dress.

Yet I must work. I will have to figure out how to move through this mess.

The most painful part is that I can never take my cutting words back. Never. Even if there is much beauty I offer and share, will my family be able to see beauty above evil?

Thank you for listening.

P.S. Fig did get all boxes and bottles out last night and did all dishes this morning.

Dark Forest

Again too tired to write much here. And I’m finding that the reading, writing and reflecting involved in working a 12-step program [in my case, OA] involves revisiting dark forests on scary, uncharted paths. There’s a reason we lost our way the first time around. It’s hard work and when it doesn’t feel freeing, it can be downright exhausting.
Good night.

Day 2 After Sunday Breakdown, Inch by Inch

Feeling better, eating better--or is it the other way around?

Stay in today, stay in today, my friend says. He said he sometimes even tapes the note on his car dashboard.

I am grateful for his wisdom.

If we don't stay in the moment, and in the day, problems loom much larger.

As in, when Figgy was sick in high school and a bit beyond.....I/we would crumple up and want to die if we thought about her future/our hopes being crushed, etc. College? Scholarships? Senior prom? Prom dress? Awards ceremony? Summer job? Life? If we stayed in the day, step by step by step by difficult, arduous step....it was still painful, even acutely so, but we were more effective in dealing with a life-threatening eating disorder and accompanying behaviors. It was that being present, and being helped by experts, that allows our dear Figgy to be in recovery now.

Thank you, God. And thank you, too, for Figgy's good, true friends who stood by her side--as she wavered and fell deeper and deeper into darkness--during illness. And for the friends and family who stood by my and Dan's side.

I wish you a good day.