Code Tarantula

Bridal Trousseau is one of my I.D. codes this evening. This image is from Brides. Link: https://www.brides.com/what-is-a-bridal-trousseau-1860910. Photo BY 515 PHOTO CO.

I'm not feeling humorous or bridal lacy, just tired, scared and sad, so this title might need a more serious word than tarantula. But catchier Code Red, Code Blue and Code Black have already been taken in emergency room lingo. 

Some notes and funny words to recall things yesterday and today:

1. Slip-on sneakers patterned with sunflowers, worn by a young lady working at hospital. She swung her feet over the floor, as one can do when one is shorter. The swinging conveyed a moment of girlhood joy.
2. I.D. words for officials yesterday. No real names, to protect privacy. But they were pivotal. Bridal Trousseau and Honeymoon on the Riviera, secret phrases to help me remember. There were some words of wisdom.

Really reaching here. I think that's it for now.

As the Sand Passed Through the Hourglass

Note the little bulbs on the brown algae. Fig and I squeezed them to release a beauty treatment to work through our hair. After all, they sell seaweed shampoo at the store.

The surf was rough in Maine--I mean crashing and scary with Punch. Like, get back on the beach, this shark-infested water could kill you. I won't go into details. And it continued to be terrorizing last night, upon return at 11 p.m., and today.

If future me wants to remember the pain and fear (oh, yeah, that's what happened that trip), my code words are Fireside Inn, soap in can and bus ticket.

But there were still some nice moments amidst the fear and danger:

1. The wedding party at Mere Point for Leah and Greg.
2. Drive to Rockport with Figgy to my niece Anna's tiny house in the woods, built by her Dad. Fig had never been there. Anna served us coffee and fruit and Grape-Nuts with a high-protein yogurt I plan to buy. Icelandic, I think, and lemon-flavored without a lot of sugar. It was lovely to see her, and see the girls together.
3. A leisurely stop by the rocky coast to explore with my firstborn and a visit to Dot's Market in Lincolnville Beach, a pricey gourmet shop with a great edit. No, no, I did not notice any chocolate peanut butter cupcakes with fat caps of swirled icing. Nope.
4. Seeing my sisters-in-law (all four). That counts Therese, with a flower in her hair; Sheila, natural beauty and gifted cook (she filled the grill with hotdogs, burgers, chicken and street corn and managed it all); Martha, intellectual, funny, fit, blonde, insightful; and Eileen, Dan's capable, professional, stylish little sister, who moved up to Maine with my mother-in-law as a young girl.
5. Biking over the historic Belfast bridge, and then walking it another day when Fig roller-skated over the span.
6. Small talk with strangers on the bridge about dogs and fishing.
7. July Fourth cookout. Nice hotdog on grilled bun, homemade potato salad.
8. Seeing our nephews' little children--and the Dads we knew as boys.
9. Belfast Co-op.
10. Chamomile flowers. I bought a plant for Anna and one to plant here at home.
11. Baking a Blueberry Galette from a Down East-published book found in Southern Maine with Nancy. The crust was raggedy, hard and off-kilter, I piled the berries too high and the juice ran all over the cookie sheet instead of staying in the galette but it still tasted good. I tried. My life was/is raggedy, hard and off-kilter, so why shouldn't the galette be? Still, I liked gathering ingredients and baking in my sister-in-law Martha's yellow kitchen.
12. Visiting dear Leah at her house on my way home to NJ. Seeing her beautiful pocket gardens and paint colors and home office and pet bunny for the kids.
13. Seaweed hair treatment. Fig and I squeezed the clear juice from the bulbs on seaweed/kelp found in Belfast. Snap, squeeze, finger-comb through hair. We like doing things like that.
14. Cocktails (I had sun tea) at Pat and Martha's neighbors' lovely old farmhouse. Smoked Gouda, sliced baby cucumber from the garden and juicy little strawberries, the fruitful gems of summer in Maine.

I was going to say sorry for another sad sap post but it's not my fault, so can't say sorry.

That's it. The pain is real but there was some beauty. And while I see that 14 might seem like a high tally, in my mind, it did not/could not cancel out even that one first night in a Maine hotel.

Private Eye

Private Room

Private (rank in the Marines or Army)

Private Practice

Private Dectective

Private Benjamin (my earlier blog code for therapy appointment)

Private Party

Private Conversation

Private Matter

Privacy

Things have been messy and hard and I am not at liberty to divulge here. Trying to remain standing in grace rather than lying in misery and fear.

Skipper and Young Romeo Go to Prom

At our home. One thing Skipper and Romeo have in common, among other things, is nearly jet black hair. Also, they both love to season food with Latin adobo and get drinks/"bevs" from Panera, QuickChek and Starbucks. They seem to talk frankly and deeply. She is 17, he is 18. 

Here are the photos from Skippy's/Punchy's prom night Thursday, May 30 with her boyfriend, code name Romeo, a senior. Skipper is a sophomore (she started kindergarten late). It was at The Legacy Castle, which looks elegant. Romeo is from Wayne, about a 15-minute drive from here.

I started calling our girl Skipper in this blog a while ago, because she reminded me of Barbie's little sister, following Figgy. I do not mean that she is plastic, or shallow, or just a doll. It is an affectionate term. Skipper is real, very real, and brainy in her own way. And both she and Romeo have caring hearts.

The weather was beautiful. We were all happy to celebrate such a happy occasion. My next-door neighbor and friend, Julie, told me Montclair High School now does pre-prom photos at Van Vleck House & Gardens, so we went to that gated property. So lovely. 

Most of us here have busy lives and jobs, including Romeo's young mom, pretty blonde Y; Romeo, who works many hours at a restaurant and saved money to buy his car, shown; Skipper's young grandma, a school principal, who looks so much like Skip, who in turn looks so much like her late birth Dad, and her birth mother; Figgy; Dan; and me, though I work freelance from home. So it was great to all meet up pre-prom. Mimi brought sub sandwiches, cheese and crackers, watermelon chunks. I wanted to catch some family photos in the gardens.

Skipper and Romeo with his mom and two younger brothers. I love that purse, which Dan and Skip found at Bloomingdale's on prom day. It has a chain for a shoulder option. Y helped us with dress shopping at David's Bridal in Paramus. As an older mother, I am not fully on trend with prom styles and satin platform shoes.

Selfie by Dan. Skipper and Romeo and his family again, plus me, Skipper's Mimi, and dear Figgy on the end. 

Mimi and Skipper. So beautiful.

Romeo and his brothers.

Romeo and his chariot. He worked hard to save money.

And here is a link to photos from Figgy's senior prom, 11 years back. She was 17 at the time, as Skipper is today. We got a good shot of just Fig and Skipper on Thursday night, but no one has been able to find it on their phone yet. 

I'm going to the family house on Cape Cod Monday morning for four nights with Sis, Meg and Greg. Will report back. I look forward to bird watching walks, Great Pond, the bike path--and lobster.

xo

Prom Countdown

"Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress" episode photo from "I Love Lucy." I doubt that will happen to Punchy but you never know! 

Punchy, 17, is going to Romeo's senior prom in Wayne this evening. I'm not allowed to post a photo of her in the dress yet. She tried it on twice. I guess you don't post the dress ahead of time now, at least in her case.

Mimi (her dad's mom) is driving up after work, for a photo window. Figgy plans to come after work, too.

It feels like a scaled-down wedding--by that I mean a focused and happy event, Dan and I coordinating car time to rush Punch to hair and nail appointments, purse shopping, the young man getting a jacket, etc., and that is good. We have ridden the crashing waves of many scary or sad moments in Punch's life sea but this is a joyous, "normal" one. I hope she and Romeo surf smoothly. Yet of course, I still worry--about after parties, alcohol, driving. I have already and will again address the matter with both teens involved.

The fancy manicure, two-tone with little rhinestones, was carefully crafted by a nail artist in her pretty at-home salon yesterday. (It took over two hours. Mimi funded it.) It's 12:22 and Dan is on a dash with Punch to CVS for silver hoop earrings and fake lashes, plus a purse at the mall. Starting at 1 p.m., pedicure, brow tint, hair trim and styling. She has to shower before all that. After hair, time for Punch to do her makeup.

Everyone is different. And while Punchy has a sharp, astute brain, she doesn't overexercise it for school. She is a capable athlete, but I have to twist her arm mostly to get her to the Y for a class or to the gymnastics place for an open tumbling session. But Punchy is a master at makeup. In a good way. Honestly, she is.

The nails....they are superlong, a trend these days. The family member who really digs them is our cat, Nina, whose green eyes dance and spin like saucers at the sparkly little jewels on teen queen's talons.

We picked up the pretty dress and shoes Tuesday after school. We did layaway at David's Bridal in Paramus, where Romeo's glamorous young mom has had a big position for years. She was very helpful, gracious and knowledgeable. As in, just the right shoes, black satin platform sandals with rhinestone buckles, which I wasn't inititally drawn to but love now. 

I have to go check my work emails. Hope to report back later.

10 Steps Out of the Sinking Marsh

I can wallow in being overwhelmed and discouraged today with the course of events in this household at this moment but instead I will choose to dot i's and cross t's on my work assignments and:

1. Reread the beginning of "Miriam" (1945) to note the narrator in a tale by talented Truman Capote and start, once again, crafting a short story of my own. (I published a story in Good Housekeeping as a newlywed.) Type and think and click and capture, save it in a folder named SHORT STORY AS OF APRIL 2024 on my MacBook desktop. Begin to polish my pearl, my goal: To do my best to transport you, and me, to another place and time. Done.
2. Think about "A Room of One's Own" (1929), the extended essay by Virginia Woolf and be grateful for the time and space and paying assignments I have. Be thankful for my proficiency and skill set, for a room to claim (two, counting the dining room). "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." Done.
3. Be grateful for my health--and my sister's health on her 70th birthday today. Done.
4. Look forward to sharing in the gift she wants most for her birthday--to go the Turtle Back Zoo tomorrow with the girls, see the lions and feed lettuce to the giraffes. You will recall she went on an African safari, a lifelong dream. Done.
5. Plan healthy meals for today. Start with breakfast.
6. Walk to the Post Office to return a package on this sunny day.
7. Start looking into cars we can buy.
8. Shampoo with lovely, lavender-tinted Love shampoo from Davines. Special-occasion suds.
9. Water my candy-cane-striped dahlias. 
10. Pray. For acceptance, for hope, for faith, for guidance under angel wings, for compassion (for myself and others), for love.

Discomfort & Unease

That's what I feel, discomfort and unease. Over so much. So much. Jittery and sad and scared, things looking dreary, like the weather.

Punch is on spring break this week. Our car is on the fritz. When our girls were young, Dan and I (or just I, or with my friend Anne and her kids) would take them away, give them a change of scenery. To Cape Cod, or Cape May, at the sandy tip of New Jersey, or to see Sis for an overnight in Connecticut. To make the breaks meaningful, to get another perspective, to get out of town.

This week, if anything, without a car, I will take Punch on the train to NYC for a day. Dan is also being flown to Palm Springs, California to work at a party on Thursday. He will be back on Saturday. And I'm stuck here with these problems.

I'm sad, and scared. I don't like a lot of what's going on around here. I don't. But my work is good, and also, I plan to productively put stuff away, hang clothes up etc.

Thanks for listening.

Signing off sadly.

Too Many Moving Parts on a Monday Night

Punchy's birthday gathering with some close family and friends fell this Monday night. I know a birthday is a special gift, and 17 is a special number. We remember some birthdays all of our lives. But for tonight, too many moving pieces, and stress.

Instead of ordering pizzas, now pricy, still carb-heavy, fattening, nonvegan for Fig--and our teen and her friends have them too often for a balanced life--we made a simple dinner. But it missed the mark. 

Dan did his garlic bread with EVOO instead of butter or a mix of both, to accommodate vegan Figgy. For some reason, not so great (it usually is). I tried a new brand of Italian sausage, Italian chicken sausage. It tasted weird, even browned and served in good Rao's marinara sauce. We almost ran out of tortellini. Since that has cheese, I made plain pasta for Fig and meatless sauce for her and Dan. Most of us took steamed broccoli on our plates, including me, and then didn't eat it. 

Even the expensive Muenster and Gouda from Kings were just....nothing to write home about. How can Gouda miss the mark?! The kitchen drain was clogged and Dan got out the plunger. The small, vegan, dairy-free Daiya key lime "cheezecake" from Whole Foods freezer--that was good.

Dan made the classic Baked Alaska/Alexa for Punch's bday but...don't ask. For years, he has mastered the three-layer extravaganza, but it takes planning and meringue can be finicky, and sense the baker's stress and haste. His Mom is failing, the six-sibling care plan is hard, our car broke down again, he's waiting to hear back from his agents on his book proposal, etc. etc. He had to drive Punchy's friend all the way back to her family's apartment in Fort Lee, unexpectedly. He took Fig's car, but that will end when she moves out later this month.

So we pared back to tighten our purse strings but it didn't reduce our stress. We pared back on gifts, too, but Punchy still liked the ones we got, including two potted hyacinths, one deep Easter purple, one pure white, because she loves their fragrance. Her big sister Figgy came through with the coveted white gift, Apple AirPods. This is Punch's third pair since sixth grade, the first pair stolen in middle school, the second pair lost. Fig said if she really wanted them, she would not get her a Christmas gift but get these for her birthday and she kept her word. Generous and true.

For the most part, except for me and Dan, who are human, after all, and quite imperfect, family and friends did not miss the mark nor did the two cute pets. We're all human. And I am fully aware that though this night proceeded in fits and starts, we are all still lucky to have each other, and the bday girl still enjoyed it. She said thank you several times. 

Good night.

This Mother Wants Bubble Wrap

DBT (dialectical behavior therapy*) "wise mind" model  from THIS SOURCE.

I want some cushioned wrap, maybe pink, to protect our teen girl, so she will not break when dropped or squeezed between hard places or bouncing on a horse on a rutted path. So she won't lose her way and enter an unsafe place, never to reverse her road again.

We can't wrap them in bubble wrap, our first DBT therapist said when I worried. She told me that in several conversations.

I've had fears and scares with our older daughter, Figgy, and met them with determined efforts to fix and cure mental health issues. As if. We parents can maybe help hold the reins when kids are young (after all, we have traveled unpaved roads ourselves), but we cannot clear away the bumps and rocks on the trail. We might help burnish the saddle for safer, more comfortable rides and hope the road rises with our girls and their hopes and dreams as they trot out of our sight. I held onto my cowboy hat as Fig's path circled dangerous dramas, veering toward and away from them. She is doing quite well now, thanks to grace, luck, fate, timing, a keen brain, artistic eye, genetics, loving family, true friends, professional mentors and hard work. And gradually, she/we have learned to face down bandits on life's trail rather than retreat.

So this is not my first rodeo, as they say, on this journey with Punch, who will turn 17 this Monday. 

And yet I am still surprised when I come upon a teen behavior that scares me. Many of her peers (I can't say "friends," because most truly are not) bring on and bring out the worst inclinations, unloved girls who are doing very unsafe things involving, for example, social media photography, running away from home, disrespect for themselves and adults and yes, even behavior that brings in the police at tender young ages. 

But I know now how to apply DBT "accepts" (a noun), to use my wise mind and not gallop with abandon in my emotional one. DBT tenets do help and so do distress tolerance skills, a nurturing school environment, trained therapists for both mother and child, Dan being present and involved, extended family and friends, perspective and smart doctors. I am grateful for all of those supports this morning. And also for boyfriend GREAT SMILE DEEP THINKER, who shares a lot of wise insights with Punch. But I remind myself that he has flaws, too, like the rest of the world. Wise mind. Acceptance.

Hope you have a good day.

*Defined on the internet as "evidence-based psychotherapy designed to help people with emotional dysregulation."

EVENING NEWS, 7:06 p.m. I want the bubble wrap even more based on this afternoon's events. But I took a warm bath, made a healthy salmon/sauteed mushrooms/polenta family dinner (that the teen might not touch, but vegan Fig will eat the last two) and am going to 7:30 restorative yoga class now. Booked it last week. 

Capers: A Note from North Eastham

Good morning from Cape Cod.

It is 10:38 a.m. on Monday and Dan and I plan to leave the house by noon. Already ran the dishwasher, folded the red plaid blankets, put the insulated Lilly Pulitzer cooler bag in the freezer so it's ready for our fridge unpack and the journey back to NJ.

I want to do a chart HERE vs. THERE but don't have time to format it since we have a lot more scuttling around to do--spritzing and spraying, sweeping and vacuuming.

The chart would have illustrated HERE joys like renting bikes from Idle Times Bike Shop in Eastham and THERE worries like Skipper refusing to get up for school while Figgy is holding down the fort. Or other stresses. Skip didn't want to come with us, and her school summer program runs through tomorrow anyway, and Figgy is working.

Dan and I have been gone four nights. 

• We biked (about six miles one way) on the bike path to the Hot Chocolate Sparrow. We were superhot under those helmets when we arrived. We each had our one ice cream of the trip. I got sugar-free coffee flavor with the Sparrow's exceptional chocolate dip--that melty dark coating that hardens on contact--only available in the summer. Dan got a soft-serve vanilla cone with the dip darkening the swirls and swoops.
• I did the 8 a.m. to 10 a.m. Early Bird Walk program at the Audubon Friday morning. L.O.V.E.D. it. Ospreys, snowy egrets, purple martin, heron, turkeys, little shore birds. Also bullfrogs, green frogs ("like Kermit," a Boston walker said), and fiddler crabs. Great group of people and young leader.
• We had our bike rentals for 24 hours ($30 each). Yesterday we pedaled to Nauset Light Beach. Dan ran into the sea (61 degrees water temp).
• Dinner last night at Mac's on the Wellfleet Pier with our friends from NJ, who are here for the week. Yum. Bluefish, steamed local vegs, rice, (fried oyster plates for our friends and a jumbo lobster roll for Dan), then more talk back at our friends' cute rental house.

Today, we plan to go to the Audubon for another nature walk before joining the cars on Route 6 West for the 6- or 7-hour trek home. But first, we have to lock up the house.

Wakeup Call: You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide

Above: Picture these beautiful orange cups and saucers--echoing brilliant leaf colors in Lenox, Massachusetts--in generous latte sizes. I sat outside and nursed my cupful at Lenox Coffee, on Main Street.

I stole away to the Berkshire Mountains, a glorious range in Massachusetts, for two nights by myself.

It wasn’t really stealing or sneaking, because I let my family know. But it was a determined plan to get away alone  and nurture myself. 

I overpacked, as usual, with high hopes for doing my nails (nope) and reading from a stack of five books. Oh, the glory of road trips, no TSA inspections, just pile on the scarves and books and CPAP machine, no hassles.

I came looking for inner peace and perspective, and I found some. 

Was it in the meditation class at 5:30 p.m.? The facial, with steam on my face and a rich lip dip at the end? (I wanted to buy that lip salve, but I think the tiny jar was about $70 before tax. Still, I’m not dismissing it entirely. It felt so plump and pillowy,  and in the light of the boutique, the magical balm seemed to glisten with a hint of gold.) 

I planned not to talk about my consuming worries about Punch on this getaway. To stop getting lost in them. To stay in the present, in the moment. I did pretty well, though did talk to my longtime friend Candy, who lives not far from here, and this morning, to Jay and Anthony, two young men running the hotel’s front desk. It was quiet, and they were kind.

Sometimes it’s good to talk to strangers, who don’t know you and your story at home, Jay said.

Yes.

But I’ve found that in general, I overshare too much in life and I can’t afford to do that anymore because I lose myself and swim in worry. It is never too late to learn to be a better listener and less of a talker.

It's time to pack up, shower, lug the bags back to the car. I think I will try to visit "The Mount," Edith Wharton’s estate nearby, before heading home. The foliage is so pretty everywhere I turn.

Praying for peace and acceptance and the continued ability to shower every day, meditate, walk in nature, do my writing assignments and allot a few minutes for my makeup (concealer and mascara, a bit of foundation).

Practicing self-care helps soften our footprint in the world, so we are not so scared, reactionary, off-course. Steady as she goes.

#2 Petite Knock Out Roses: A Letter to My Daughters

 Petite Knock Out* image from here. Tiny but tough in the pursuit of beauty.

Dreamy Apricot Drift** roses. On my garden bucket list. And I like the word “drift,” since many of us drift on our journeys.

Dear Carlie and Punch,

It’s been a while since I’ve written you two a letter together. 

I've switched to the blog name Carlie from Figgy. The names evolve as the daughters do. Carlie is one of my top real-life pet names for you, my first baby girl, the once rumpled redhead with the raspy voice and mirthful spirit. (Your middle name is Caroline. So, Carlie.) 

And Punch--well, I was calling you Skipper/Skippy in stories for a while but times are tough for you and I am going back to Punch because you, like a Petite Knock Out* Rose, have to somehow summon up the power to knock out beauty, to bloom through extreme weather, in the face of pests, thorns and nursery diseases* that can kill you, eat away your leaves in a lacy pattern. For now, rather than Skipper (Barbie’s sporty little sister, in a red swimsuit), Punch it is.

We are all only human. We can only do our best with the life unfurling before us, with the tightly wrapped rosebud we are given at birth.

I cannot go into details in this public space. But I can speak softly, and toughly, of a mother’s love. Carlie, so proud of you down on the Florida coast, researching algae and cyanobacteria in a master’s program. So happy for your passions and joys, your brain, your beauty, those sky-blue eyes from my Irish grandfather, your gardening and friendships, your love and kindness as you navigate life’s road as a confident young woman.

Punch, so concerned for you at age 15.  As you know, Carlie had some rough, churning seas in high school, too. I guess a lot of teenagers do. Oh, you have beauty and brains aplenty --that shiny hair, the green eyes, the way you captivate people, your smart mind, capable skills--but you have much to face and much to work through. I love you, we love you, so much. Mr. Danay, Carlie, me and Nina, the sweet kitten you chose--your nuclear family. 

This is just a letter to say how much I love you both at this juncture on life’s path.

Love always, Mima (to Carlie)/Alice (to Punch).

__________________________________________________________________________

*Petite Knock Out® is the first-ever, miniature Knock Out® Rose, offering more versatility than any other member in The Family! This small plant makes a big impact with fire-engine-red blooms and flower power, easy care, and disease resistance true of Knock Out® Roses. Plant in containers or in the garden for season-long blooms. Available at select garden retailers.  

**Double apricot coloured flowers begin flowering in spring and display a season-long show of colour. It is just as tough and disease resistant as others in the Drift® series.

Another Letter to My Daughters here (from five years and two months ago). 

Money Maven?

Above, photo on SoFi.com for “23 Tips on Saving Money Daily."

Greetings from the same woman who, for months, tracked her daily spending out of pocket at the bottom of each blog post. Remember that? Here’s a refresher from 2019. Even I forgot how tedious that was.

Is it ironic for someone who spent $8 on a whim for a mini Magnolia Bakery cheesecake or too much money on a turquoise cashmere sweater (on sale) to be writing financial articles now? Yes, and no. 

Just as I learned to leave pretty floral heirloom china around the house (because why hide that beauty in a cupboard?) when I interviewed Shabby Chic founder Rachel Ashwell, and when I gathered that Italian rainbow cookies are labor-intensive in the course of writing a Good Housekeeping Christmas cookie feature, I now polish my penny with consumer financial writing. I learn about budget tools and savings goals. I write about how much it costs to get a pet and where to resell your clothing. I have done this kind of writing on and off for years; being immersed in it now feels healthy. 

Also, my life has true challenges at this point. I like being able to tune out, even briefly, use my skills, earn money, sit on the dark green sofa or at my parents’ old mahogany dining room table and WRITE, in between meetings, phone calls and appointments, in between bouts of worry, concern and fear.

Here are some new article links. Have a good day.  

Yours truly, 

Smarter Shopper

1. 23 Tips on Saving Money Daily 
2. Guide to Financially Downsizing Your Life and Saving Money 
3. 23 Easy Ideas to Pay It Forward 
4. Does Couponing Save You Money? 

41 Minutes by the Blue

Life can be scary. Nature is healing.

Today I drove Sis’s car, with Sirius XM radio and good A.C., to Sherwood Island State Park, exit 18 off Route 95 North. It’s a little beyond Westport, Connecticut (the town where Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward raised their family).

I had to get the car back in time so Sis could go to spin class. Traffic was bad. I had 41 minutes at the beach, 4:19 p.m. until 5. 

It was enough. Nature in my heart, my soul, my pocket. I took off my Peds and Nikes, minced my steps over a dense carpet of whole and jagged seashells, and walked into the Long Island Sound--ankle-deep. 

Many gifts if eyes open to see them:

• A sailboat, crisp white wing against June sky.
• Seaweed. 
• Shells in hand, an oyster shell for Sis.
• The promise of summer in my heart. Joy, sand, sunscreen, water, waves. Always and forever.
• Walking the path, which climaxes by the quiet "living" 911 Memorial, designed to change naturally with the seasons. It’s a beautiful pocket by a rocky coast. 
• A few Wednesday sun umbrellas and small beach tents.
• Beach roses, pink and promising white. Just like Cape Cod! (Dan even planted a hot candy-pink one in our backyard.) We can’t pick flowers in public places, so I plucked a single pink petal and held it to my nose.
• White clover in green grass. I remember that in the lawns and parks of my girlhood. Wildflowers. How pretty. Flowers that grow wild, whether we want them or not. Determined blooms. Rugged.
• Quick prayer.
• Lungs filled.

I asked the nice guy at the snack bar if they had iced coffee. Not today, but they will, come summer.

I was back in time for Sis to get to spin class. #grateful

Good night.

A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss

No, that’s not really what I mean. That phrase refers to a stone that tumbles and moves along, not staying in one place long enough for moss--or a family of mosses--to cling and make a home. It may be propelled on its course by wind, water, earth shifts or even human hands or shovels.

Our family stone keeps rolling but not for lack of trying to get it settled, as in a calm brook or beautiful riverbed--in a nurturing, nourishing, steady state where a colony of pretty mosses (our Figgy is moss-obsessed, BTW) can flourish and thrive. 

Expectations and timeframes change. Good things happen. Worries pop up. A program start date shifts and the safety net is tweaked, to keep the rock safer longer even as one day rolls into another and another.

But Figgy is flying home from Florida over grad school break and will be here for Skippy’s 15th birthday in March.

Yay.

 

Y Not?

Our Skipper meeds more exercise, more planned fitness for her mental health, power and spirit.

Last February, I got her a teen membership at the Montclair YMCA* on Park Street. It’s a venerable old building. (Interesting juxtaposition, modern exercise steppers and treadmills against old wood paneling and fireplace with mantel.)  But the road got rougher, and though I signed her up for a swim class, she only attended one and we never got back. To some staffers or kids in the pool, maybe, if anyone noticed in our pandemic year, she was that girl you wonder about--what happened to Skipper? Where did she go? She vanished from attending weekly lessons. She had gone to stay with her young grandma, Mimi, and Mimi’s husband, Poppy, for what would turn out to be two months.

And then we reappeared at the Y today.

We toured the cardio room, the well-worn indoor track, pool etc. Whenever I’ see that small track, I think of all the people, boys and girls, men and women, who ran laps there, where they are now and how it helped strengthen them. 

She liked it all. I hope it empowers her.

Teen membership is a bargain. Under $18 per month and I /we plan to start getting her there often. She does seem to like the idea and she is a very good athlete.

Good night.

*Per Y website: The YMCA of Montclair has been making a positive impact in our community since 1891.

Thanks, Dad--Good to See You

Lana Del Rey “Blue Velvet” image from HERE.

I saw and heard Dad today--in Lana Del Rey’s cover of “Blue Velvet,” which Lex played on a CD in our car--and in the cotton-tail bunny I saw scampering on the green grass.

Sis and I say Dad is in the bunnies we see.

One of us will say to the other,

“I saw Papa today,” and we know what it means.

The bunnies show up at hard times, as a comfort, or sometimes, after Sis comes to visit, a day Dad would be happy to see. 

I associate the song “Blue Velvet” with him. I guess my parents had the record. They had a lot of records, and I love that. I seem to remember listening to the song with Dad.

Figgy also played Lana Del Rey so much. Today, when I listened with Skippy, I loved the song. So rich. The violins in the beginning, the full-bodied vocals. Wow.

Per Wikipedia

"Blue Velvet" is a popular song written and composed in 1950 by Bernie Wayne and Lee Morris. A top 20 hit for Tony Bennett in its original 1951 version, the song has since been re-recordedmany times, with a 1963 version by Bobby Vinton reaching No. 1.

Inspiration/ Composition[edit]

Songwriter Bernie Wayne was inspired to begin writing "Blue Velvet" on a 1951 visit to Richmond, Virginia where he stayed at the Jefferson Hotel: at a party at the hotel Wayne continually caught sight of a female guest dressed in blue velvet with whom he would have a holiday romance.^[

Lyrics:

She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars

She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet were her eyes
Warmer than may her tender sighs
Love was ours

Ours, a love I held tightly
Feeling the rapture grow
Like a flame burning brightly
But when she left, gone was the glow

Of blue velvet
But in my heart there'll always be
Precious and warm, a memory
Through the years
And we still can see blue velvet
Through our tears

Ours, a love I held tightly
Feel the rapture grow
Like a flame burning brightly
But when she left, gone was the glow

Of blue velvet
But in my heart there'll always be
Precious and warm, a memory
Through the years
And we still can see blue velvet
Through our tears

I might write a Medium story about this, but too tired now.

Good night.

Tough Day

Above, photo from the Twisted Candle Trick on TikTok. Punch only twisted hers into a right angle but it looked cool. Link below.

Rough waters today.

After a FULL DAY AND NIGHT (until 10 p.m.) of Punch on her phone and laptop yesterday, chatting with friends (at least we could hear voices, it wasn’t just texting), today was rocky. 

No surprise. 

Spend all Sunday on a device and then show up for seventh grade Monday morning on a device. We couldn’t pull her away from technology yesterday. I didn’t have time to do another park excursion, Dan was in his own world (also rough) and Punch did absolutely nothing that was unplugged except:

• Drive to Sparo’s Deli with me to pick up the most excellent sub on seeded semolina bread, which we split for Sunday lunch. (Dan didn’t want in, or we would have gotten him one without meat.)
• Halfheartedly unload the dishwasher, her daily household task. I mean, she hastily put bowls and dishes in the correct general vicinity, but.....didn’t unload the utensils, either.
• Head out with the cool longboard Fig gave her for Christmas but then come back within five minutes to say it was too cold. It was.
• Melt a pink taper candle in hot water and reshape it, the ‘Twisted Candle Trick" she learned on all-knowing TikTok. It took all of a few minutes. It was pretty cool.
• Show Fig and me a vegan fried rice ball recipe video --she wants Figgy to make them.

Dan tried to get her to bike or walk to town for milk and he would have paid her a little cash, but she refused.

Today was...ugh.

My day began ahead of my alarm, at 6:50 a.m, when Sugar was woofing and I went down to find a poo-all-over-the-living-room moment waiting to happen. It’s a long story and I won’t gross you out. It went on to trying to keep P on track with classes, signing in, showing face on 

Zoom camera, etc. etc. My day ended with Punch giving Sug a bath and drying her with the blow dryer she got for Christmas.

That was the day, but the night is still here. I’m going to take a shower and zip out to get a cupcake or other treat for Griffin, P’s young friend down the block who turned 7 today. I will ring bell and drop off.

Pandemic birthdays, such a drag.....no big parties. Stolen childhood rites of passage.

My work is too compartmentalized....I have an essay to write for a payment and I haven’t completed it yet. I have groundwork to do for two ASPIRE DESIGN AND HOME assignments....it is really hard to have remote school, especially when a child has bad ADHD and cannot focus. It takes so much energy and patience to keep said child on task. English language arts, science, social studies, Spanish, algebra, study skills...these are the things she pops in and out of.

Good night.

P.S. I didn’t go out for the cupcake. We decided to call our young friend and promise an ice cream outing. He liked that.

Quick & Easy Roasted Chicken Ratatouille

To read about Katie Jacobs, visit THIS LINK.

Now Punch has made six things from the very pretty and reliable pink cookbook by Katie Jacobs called So Much to Celebrate: Entertaining the Ones You Love, copyright 2018.

She whipped up these signature recipes:

1. Honey Mama’s Pot Roast.
2. #1 again.
3. Chocolate Chip Cookies (she accidentally left half the butter out, but people still loved them).
4. Chicken Pot Pies.
5. Chocolate Cake with Raspberry Buttercream (for Christmas Day). It is shown on cookbook cover--Punch chose to make it in three graduated layers, like a tiered wedding cake. Even vegan Figgy said she had to make an exception and have a slice. At least it didn't contain meat, fish or poultry, right? (Dan and I had gotten vegan cupcakes and ice cream for Fig.)
6. Skillet Roasted Chicken Ratatouille.

The ratatouille called for a cast-iron skillet, but we don't have one, so she/we used our cast-iron Dutch oven. She made a separate panful for Dan, without the chicken.

I Instacarted the bone-in chicken, eggplant, zucchini, cherry tomatoes and garlic (along with basics we needed including milk, bread and taper candles). These cooking activities are empowering for Punchy and build her skills, confidence and creativity, especially in this isolated time of Covid. 

We all loved this dinner. I was gunning for her to make the pot roast again, since we have a surplus of carrots, potatoes and onions, but she made a great choice.

#futurechef

I told her I have the perfect name for her successful eatery down the road: Alice's Restaurant. LOL.

Good night to you.

Nuthouse

This sheltering at home is a loooooong haul, and rainy, cooped-up days like today are not making it any easier.

Punch is driving us nuts. I understand that her hormones must be raging and that she misses her friends and school. She just turned 13 on March 11. Her oppositional behavior is heightened, to put it mildly.

On top of that, Dan was in a melancholy mood today, so I did most of the adulting--though he did make a run to Kings for groceries.

Figgy, who is good as gold and very kind and patient with Punch, is also being driven crazy by little sister. [Punchy, I know you don't care to read my blog now, but if you read this as an adult, I hope you understand. We are all stuck together, and you are pushing every button. You say we are not your family, that Figgy, who adores you, is not your sister. It is very, very hard. We love you, but you are frequently mean to us. I wish you could take out your anger in a healthier way. Sometimes, you jump on the big trampoline we got you for the backyard. You look so happy and free. I am going to encourage you to do that daily.]

Punch's high jinx today, much of the list not funny:

Snow flurries.

• She found an old bag of Buffalo Snow Flurries, left over from happy holidays gone by, and sprinkled some on me and Dan, separately, and into our hair. She did this on the sneak. I later noticed some in her hair, too.
• Made one big clear gelatin cube with strawberries in it. Scattered pink strawberry sugar on top. It was pretty.
• Possibly did not swallow her nighttime meds because she wants to stay up late. I tried to watch like a hawk, but....
• Is making things crazy when we enforce her laptop limits. [She never had a laptop, but when my kind neighbor heard Punch and I were sharing mine for homeschooling, she lent us hers. It is a blessing and a curse.]
• Uses foul language. A lot.

I took a walk around the block in the rain, with an umbrella, at 8 pm. I think I better get back to going to Sunday Mass....online. I think I need snippets of spirituality for my sanity and perspective.

TCOY

1. While watching The Brady Brunch on ME TV [4 back-to-back episodes every Sunday], I updated my LinkedIn profile, added article and video links, tweaked experience blocks, etc. Felt good. 
2. That walk around the block.
3. Talked to Sis a long time--today is her actual bday.
4. Baked some yams in the toaster oven. Ate half of one.

$ MONEY SPENT OUT OF POCKET

• zero.

Ongoing monthly spend as of April 26: $2,010.48.

Avg daily spend: $77.33.