Mrs. List

I hope I have time to make the Bliss Balls using Ground Up nut butter from Portland. I got finely chopped walnuts and pecans for the recipe at Stop & Shop last night. 

Years ago, I nicknamed Dan "Mr. List" because he would often jot down daily plans (for life and work) in the morning, putting pen to paper. He still does.

For today, I would like to be Mrs. List, not my strong suit lately. But today Dan is driving back from almost a week in Maine. His mother, Mary, 94, has been failing. When I'm away, he tries to make it his business to have the house looking tidy when I return. Sometimes that means "a lick and promise," a phrase my mother used for doing something quickly but not thoroughly. As in, Dan might sling a sinkful of dishes into the dishwasher but since they sat too long, they emerge still dirty.

Here is my list for today, starting at 9:40 a.m. this foggy Wednesday morning. Well, it is already 9:58 a.m.. I just watched an 11 min 24 sec video of President Biden on the Seth Meyers show. It was good. But that kind of thing, the time stealing, can happen 24/7 if you let it when based at home.

• Write and publish this blog post.
• Text N, angel friend.
• Eat healthy breakfast. Oatmeal with "clean" nut butter and baked apple, milk and a little light cream. 
• Take meds.
• Write Florida postcard to Sis and put in mail basket for pickup.
• NY Times word games on laptop. Another time eater, but I love them.
• Do dishes.
• Shower/shampoo.
• Put on lemon print dress, pantyhose, makeup and earrings. Power dressing at home vs. sleepwear all day.
• Walk around the block once.
• Fold loads of clean wash.
• Make bed. (Can't yet, because clean wash piled on it.)
• Put in one load of wash.
• Write up aspire website Q & A with Inca, the young architect of a beautiful dwelling in Mexico City.
• Contemplate essay writing; where to try and sell one. 
• Have healthy lunch. Rotisserie chicken, yam, 2 t butter, S & P, roasted red peppers with a little of Figgy's delicious cilantro/tahini dressing. (Figgy moving into a NJ apt with her friend at the end of March. Will miss many good things about her, will not miss the rough things.)
• Make cocoa Bliss Balls (energy balls) from the new Nut Butter cookbook I love. The Ground Up company in Portland, Oregon provides job training for women overcoming adversity. They make wonderful nut butters (hazelnut, espresso, snickerdoodle etc) with no added sugar.
• Have Punch help me bring three Christmas bins from Dan's office up to attic?
• Make simple dinner since Dan should be home by about 6 p.m. Hmmm.....prepared mac and cheese, breaded flounder, tartar sauce, steamed broccoli, rolls and butter.

That's it for now. IDK if I can do it all. Yesterday evening, I Swiffered the bathroom floor and ceiling (yes), cleaned litter box, emptied garbage, put kitchen compost out. 

4:24 p.m. update: Another sluggish day. Did I tell you I almost broke my nose last Thursday when I face-planted on the wood floor, tripping over my open, unpacked Florida suitcase in the living room? Big pain, blood, hot tears and bruising, could barely get up....so I have been healing from that trauma, too. Napping etc. Yesterday I wore sunglasses at supermarket with Figgy (7 p.m.) You look weird, Mom, Figgy said, making me laugh.

I should start writing a story or a book, an ongoing project. Sad to say, I ate in a scattered way between breakfast and lunch and became tired, lulled to sleep, and took a long nap. Didn't have the planned lunch. I still haven't showered, but I will, or taken a walk, which I probably won't. Or put on my dress. Or done my writing work. Still cleaning in my sleepwear. Will change! Dan changed ETA to 7 p.m. so that gave me the cushion of extra time. I would like to switch up my daily routine. On my second mug of coffee with oat milk and light cream. Tall ice waters should help energize me; filling one now.

Chasing My Tail, Good Night

I know I'm not alone in saying there are too few hours in the day. Going to sleep.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Boot camp in the park.
2. Short nap.

I Can Barely Blog Anymore

Ever since Punch arrived Saturday night, for we're not sure exactly how long, our lives are in a tailspin. Right now I've stolen away to Starbucks to work for a bit.....a nice teen on our block is watching her for a few hours while H. and I squeeze in some work.

I can't sort my thoughts. I used 30 minutes of babysitter time yesterday to take a bath. I have to get a rhythm again, and I will. But a 6-year-old suddenly in your midst at the end of summer is surprising and a bit dizzying. Especially because we just got Figgy off to college....and in doing so, I had to empty the trunk of Dad's car, and that's where all the bags of his clothes were....I hadn't faced all that since his death...I want to save some special things, like his blue zipper jacket.....so now Punch is in our house and those bags are in our living room...and....thank God for small blessings, like pretty floral folders and new Moleskine notebooks with green covers to organize my thoughts and my work. I chose green for the luck of the Irish--because I'm half-Irish. As though this somehow brings my mother, my grandparents, Sis and others to my side, or around me in a power huddle.

And whoever is reading is, thank you. Thank you for caring. For the last few nights, I've only blogged a few lines from my iPhone in bed, right before I drift to sleep.

TCOY

1. Sitting here carving out this time to think and work and process as best I can.

Saved by the List

My magic carpet is pretty, peachy paper with an Eiffel Tower design.

Once again, saved by the list. It helps me to write things down when I'm floundering. So I have a list that is taking me--literally, like a magic carpet--from today into tomorrow. Through tomorrow, if things work as planned.

Going to bed now so I can read before sleep.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Good tooth care.
2. Napped while rain poured outside. Rainy weather=ideal nap time, perfect soundtrack when you're lucky enough to be inside in a warm bed or on a cozy couch. Also: snowy weather; breezy, sunny days; and summer afternoons, but only when A.C. is cranking. 
3. Made applesauce, with ginger, cinnamon, a little nutmeg and freshly squeezed orange juice.
4. Private Benjamin.
5. Applied for some jobs and worked on my freelance tasks.

Breathing in the Beauty of Greenwich Point

View of Greenwich Point. Photo from greenwichlibrary.org.

Today we drove over to Greenwich Point with Sugar. For a few winter months, dogs are let in--I think it's through March 31. There were so many dogs, and people. The air smelled good and marshy. The water looked pretty. People were lined up at the snack bar, which sells fried clam sandwiches. It was beautiful out. We were there about an hour--the time allotted until responsibility called.

One day, I'm going to come and sit on one of these benches and just stare at the water for a couple of hours, I said to Sis. How come I never have?

Later, I found a moment of grace and peace--and truth--sitting in a little memorial chapel with a heavenly blue ceiling. A golden half-moon and many stars were glued to it. The celestial bodies were flat, but not flush with the ceiling.

I just looked up and prayed. And then I put someone's name in a prayer request book. Like the people who had come before me to that quiet space, I penned my message on the sky-blue paper.

Good night. Good thoughts.

TCOY

1. That walk at Greenwich Point, for sure.
2. Polished Fig's nails and then mine with "Minted," a mint-green Revlon shade Sis bought for Figgy.
3. Stopping to say that prayer and pause for grace.
4. Had a salad with dinner. 
5. Watched good episode of "Desperate Housewives" with Sis. Pure escapism.
6. Going to bed now, leaving early in the morning to drive home for 9:30 A.M. boot camp class.

The Gift of Perspective

I can't think a lot about all I have to do/want to do before December 25: parties, shopping, wrapping, decorating, baking. Cookies to deliver. It's daunting to consider the whole big glittering red holiday ball. The one that should be perfect and polished and cheerful. And then there are the things I hope to do every year but never get around to, like taking cookies to wonderful Dr. Cameron, the town vet who saved Sug's life years ago.

I know: It's good stuff, not dark stuff. Baking buttery Christmas trees with chocolate swags is a good thing; trimming evergreen boughs is a good thing. Look at Dad, at the end of his life last year--the healthy, strong man who hung Christmas lights and sent Godiva chocolate to friends and family was stuck in bed, weak. I'm sure he wished he could still do all that. I miss him so much.

I will try and keep it all in perspective. I will do my professional work, which is pressing. Can't ignore that.

And tomorrow, I will take a few minutes to make a list of holiday work on vintage Christmas paper that I can post and eye with hope rather than panic. If I can better time the chores, I will be better able to enjoy them. If I can parcel out some serenity, I may be able to give myself the gift of a calmer Christmas.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Since I was too tired to go to boot camp [I hate to skip it!], I brought my umbrella to the park and took a longish walk, even though it was pouring rain.
2. Reading Blue Nights by Joan Didion. Excellent.
3. Healthy lunch: White-bean veggie burger on whole-grain bread from Little Phil's in Upper Montclair. Saved half for tomorrow.
4. Steamed broccoli to serve with dinner.

Too Many Jobs Spoil the Pot

Last night, I thought I was grabbing the bottle of olive oil but no, it was green crème de menthe I poured into the pasta water to prevent the tortellini from sticking. So had to start over again [fortunately, had not added the pasta yet]. Just now, for a late lunch, I found no one had unloaded the dishwasher, couldn't find clean spoon, so used my hands to transfer leftover tortellini to bowl. Then when I poured some marinara on, it dripped into the open utensil cabinet drawer. Gross--I know. Forgive my manners.

This is a message: Calm down. Take stock. Too many things converging at once. Cannot do it all well.

Burning Midnight Oil Again

Well, finishing about an hour earlier than last night.....1:53 A.M. vs. 2:45 A.M. Moving in the right direction. Last night, writing about beach houses; tonight, about beach beauty. Does make me want to polish my nails and put on SPF 20 pink lip balm and stretch out on the sand.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Walked Sug around block one measly time. Poor Sug.
2. Helped Figgy face music, even its ugly notes, I hope.
3. Bought crunchy organic  baby carrots [Whole Foods, only $1.69] and ranch dressing--had with dinner tonight.
4. Tracked my spending. Perhaps should not have bought $38 bra.

Burning Midnight Oil

Just finished a piece about buying a beach house. Was in city all day for appts so had to work at night. Must sleep. Good night.

TCOY

1. Walked an easy hour in NYC to Dr., up Madison Avenue in blue-sky sunshine.
2. Went to Dr.! Major TCOY.
3. Iced coffee.
4. Private Benjamin with H.  
5. Turkey burgers for dinner for me and Fig.
6. Walked Sug around block once.

Too Tired and Cranky to Write

But I trust all is well in your corner of the world.

Good night.

TCOY 

1. Dressed up to work @ home, with blue crystal necklace and high shoes.
2. Decaf iced skinny caramel macchiato; stared down moist Starbucks brownies artfully stacked on plate in glass case. Realized this: It's not that I can never have the brownies or cake pops. It's that every time I don't is one more time I'm not piling on extra calories and fat.
3. Must have had a gallon of ice water.
4. Finally got a med for a lab test my dr. has wanted forever. Seeing him Tuesday so taking med now and dragging self to Lab Corp in morning before boot camp. Don't know if results will reach his NYC office before my appt, but at least am finally doing it.

Tired--Again

Too hot and tired to write here again. Have been productive with my work, though, so that's good. Can't wait to sleep in A.C. Miss business center in condo--so cold last summer, we needed sweaters! Not so in this sweatbox.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Boot camp in the park.
2. Walked Sug around block twice and around Bradford School loop with H. and Figgy.
3. Planted red and pink petunias.
4. Brown rice sushi from Whole Foods.
5. Stopped and thought before overeating.
6. Iced coffee.

Tired

Too tired to write. Did some productive work today. Miss Dad. Must sleep. Good night.

TCOY

1. My first training ride for Toni's Kitchen bike ride in early September--went [slowly] from 6:30 to 7:20 A.M.
2. Walked Sug around block once, and around Bradford School loop once.
3. Fair amount of fruits and vegs.
4. Hung two quilts out to dry in hot sun.
5. Nap.
6. Faced music again--phone calls.
7. Iced coffee.
8. Two small servings of ice cream....Figgy said she was worried about my health, but I did not listen. Wondering if I should have.

Sand in the Hourglass

I didn't make blood orange cocktails, but hope to one day--
I sliced and juiced to make a salad with watercress, blue cheese crumbles and pistachios.
Image from www.laylita.com.

Suddenly, I have more time, now that Dad is gone. I cry often, though, missing him. Remembering his face a lot. Will the day come when I can't? Hope not.

Did some gardening in the sun today, but we have a lot more to do. So much old dead grass, so many twigs to rake up. Lingering glass shards and nails from the reconstruction--visible now that the snow banks have finally thawed. Want to pick them up so Figgy, Punch, Sugar and the neighborhood kids don't get hurt.

It's been a long, hard winter. But today boot camp was back in the park again, after months indoors! It felt good to be out under the blue sky. Also took a walk tonight with Moey and Sug.

Going to visit Sis and Don in Greenwich for part of the weekend. Eager to see pretty coastline, and talk/laugh to Sis about Dad.

Made a nice salad with watercress and blood oranges, thanks to Lisa, a boot camp friend who blogged about it today: www.thislittlepiggywenttothefarmersmarket.com. Trying to take better care of myself. Never too late to turn the tide, right?

Good night.

Tired, Must Sleep

Since I generally blog here at night, Tired could be my post title quite often. But tired I am. And about to head to bed, the first Saint Patrick's Day of my life without Dad around. He used to make corned beef, cabbage and potatoes--even though he wasn't really Irish. He married into it.

H. usually makes my Grandma Alice's Irish soda bread on March 17, but not this year. The stars are not in their courses.

I hope and pray for strength and goodness for Figgy, H. and me.

Good night.

Bone-Tired

Tired, as in shoulders-hunched tired. Shoveled a good amount with Figgy and H., but then our snow angel, neighbor Sally, came over at about 10 or 10:30 and finished the really long driveway with the snow blower she borrowed from her next-door neighbors up the road.

I'm thinking I better drop off a thank you, maybe brownies or biscotti or something, we'll see.

Haven't seen Dad in over a week, but he's wanting a corned beef on rye with mustard, so I hope to bring him one tomorrow.

Good thing today: Figgy wanted to go to the bank to open her own savings account [separate from the one where she gives me 15 percent of her baby-sitting or portrait earnings, for college]. She had saved $100 cash and handed it over. I'm proud of her. She said she wants to save it in case she wants to buy something big, or maybe take a trip the summer before college. Or maybe I'll use it to get my first tattoo when I'm eighteen, she said, mostly just to rib me [I think].

I must go to sleep.

Good night.

The Number Game

It's a short, steep hike up to the top, involving a vertical ladder,
and we saw a bunny on the way.

Pancakes: 1.5
Minutes late for Mass: 45
Whole-wheat Ritz crackers: 12
Minutes with Dad: 90
Crisp New York State apples shared with him: 1
Times Stephen Colbert spotted: 1 [walking his dog with his wife, I assume, when I was leaving Van Dyk Manor with Sug, who barked at the Colbert dog]
Cups of drinking chocolate from Whole Foods: 1
Hours with Punch: 5 going on 6, and into the night
Steps up to the Hawk Watch in Montclair with H., Sug and Punch, to look down on the town and out onto glittering NYC: too many to count
Times invited Figgy to join us on the little Hawk Watch nature outing, to no avail: 3

Friends who came for dinner: 4, and 1 young one

Timeouts Punch needed while friends were here: 7

Times yelled No! at H. for giving Punch a paint set to play with on the kitchen floor: 1
Times apologized to guests and then to H. for above yelling: 1
Calls from front desk because neighbors below said we were too loud: 1
Glasses of wine: 2
Figgy's favorite books read to Punch at bedtime: 2
Wash loads: 1
Dish loads: 1
Miles driven on an empty gas tank: 10
Fresh pineapples cut into cubes: 1
Dollars spent: 17
Pints of fresh blackberries bought on sale [2 for $5]: 2
Prayers said: 4

Sweet dreams.

Stop the World, I Want to Get Off

No, not really. But I do want to sleep. Like for two days in a row. Maybe on a Caribbean island. This is ridiculous.

When I'm only going to get five hours of sleep, like tonight, I sometimes console myself with thoughts of having a newborn in the house. Back then, with both Figgy and Punch, we were grateful to get five hours in a row. I try to remember that there was a time and place when five hours was a good stretch, before you heard that little cry in the darkness.

That's what gets me through. Good night.

Nice 'n Easy

News alert. It has now been found that we can burn calories by doing the following things without a break on a Saturday. Call it the miracle weight-loss plan.

1. Driving 35 minutes to Cresskill to meet your brother at 9ish A.M.to pack up your Dad's lovely Sunrise Assisted Living apartment that he never had a chance to live in, b/c he had to go to the hospital for six weeks and now needs a skilled nursing facility. Calories burned: 1,000.
2. Sighing at the brass plaque near the door to apt. 205, which says: John Garbarini. He would have liked that, the way it looked so official and elegant. Nice touch the place had. Sifting through 87 years of things a man kept, through life in apartments as a child, young adult and newlywed, and in a house for 50 years. Things like prayer books, family photos, anniversary cards to your mother, birthday cards from his young daughters. Screwdrivers, coins, Tom Collins glasses, videotapes. Extra pairs of eyeglasses, and his 25-year Rolex watch from the pharmaceutical company. And through the many things you and your siblings have bought him in recent years to keep him [you all had hoped] happy, entertained, safe and independent: the sleek, black flat-screen TV, the DVD player, the computer table, the pill boxes, the blood pressure checker, the undershirts and socks and cleaning products. The shower chair, the vaporizer, the microwave. It breaks your heart. You all tried so hard. Calories burned: 13,000.
3. Waiting, waiting, waiting, for the friends with the truck who were supposed to meet you there at 9 but don't arrive until 2:30. [Your brother had to leave by 11, to go visit Dad in Montclair before heading back to NYC.] Having stressful phone calls with them. Rescheduling a long overdue salon appointment to cover inches of gray hair. [You were so happy, you finally had the money to go.] Using big time gap to try to nap on Dad's recliner, going to the grocery store for a sandwich for you and peanut butter, bananas and plums for your daughter [back home], talking to Diane at the Sunrise front desk, and to Jean, a resident sitting on a white rocker on the front porch. Before you know it, crying to Jean over your Dad, over how hard it is to watch him grow old and suffer, especially after you recognize that she is a kind soul. She shares her private sadnesses with you, too. She tells you how hard it was to lose her mom many years ago, and her own two brothers [one never came back from the war--the other did, but later died]. You see in the sunlight that the inner corner of her right eye is damp. You feel sad to think of all the older people who want to tell their stories but can't. You wish you could change the world. Calories burned: 14,999.
4. Driving, driving again. Your appointment was for 2:15. Friends Pepsi and Pedro [with truck] don't arrive til 2:30, and you've already changed your appt. to that time. The hip young woman at the salon calls you while you are finally driving back, and you have to sheepishly admit you won't be there till 3. But the Saturday traffic is bad, and you arrive at 3:15. Stupid Saturday drivers. You want to shout at them and honk your horn, but you don't. So you can't get color and cut, both of which you need, but just color. Calories burned: 3,500.
5. Sitting at the salon for almost two hours. Beauty has its price, especially when it involves special steps like mixing color, covering all those stubborn roots, applying toner and doing a perfect blowout. Calories burned: 3,000.
6. Having dinner, trying to eat vegetables, but taking most of them home in a box. Checking your garage, to see that Pepsi and Pedro safely deposited the stuff going to Montclair. [It could not be put in your house, b/c that is under construction from top to bottom.] Driving back to Clifton to take the dog out, but seeing that she has already done her business on the rug, which stresses you out greatly. Calories burned: 2,000.
7. Wanting desperately to take a nap but having to drive back to Montclair again to get daughter, who is back from her day in NYC with friend, and drive her to get birthday card and money to put in card, and then drive her to birthday party. Calories burned: 1,500.
8. Writing for over one hour, because it chronicles your day and helps calm you. Calories burned: 500.
9. Lying on couch at 10:05 P.M. to read October issue of Allure, with Blake Lively on cover. Dog on your belly. Await call from daughter when party is over at 11, and do one more 25-minute round trip drive from Clifton to Montclair. If you can keep your eyes open. Husband is in Canada, you have no choice, can't really ask parents from Montclair to carpool over to Clifton. You will go it alone. Calories burned: 699.
10. Stress that through it all, there is so much you have not done. The dishes. The return calls on how your Dad is doing, to Aunt Gloria, Uncle Jack, your cousin Annie. Calories burned: 1,700.

Total calories burned: 41,898.  Not bad for a day where you were basically stuffed in the car or standing still. Not bad at all. Your white denim skirt is rumpled, but your hair looks good, your Dad's belongings have been moved, and you held onto all the sentimental things, to sort through when life allows. Job well done. 

Night and Day

Words are like pieces of sea glass.

Decided to try blogging now instead of at 11, or midnight, or after.

But I know my post won't be as long, or probably as pondering, b/c I have to move onto many other things, big and little. Dog, dress, email, work, phone, drive, mail, bank, walk, shower, teeth, hair, pack, clean. All waiting. [And that doesn't count hospital, b/c if Sis goes today, I might skip it. Not sure.]

I think I like writing at night because it's a treat I look forward to at the end of the day, after all other responsibilities have been tucked into bed. I can be reflective.

Sea Glass
The writing is pure pleasure--even if it's about something sad, it feels really good and capable to paint a picture with words, choose them carefully, polish them, too. And it's so freeing to fly over a keyboard, not painstakingly move pen or marker over page.

Maybe it's not a picture. Maybe it's a jar of beach glass or worn pebbles from the sea. You put some in and then exchange them, piece by piece, for bluer, greener, cloudier, clearer, rippled, ridged, sharper or softer-edged pieces. Pieces that capture the walk you took, the day you had, how the sand felt under your feet. Pieces that capture the beauty. [I don't do that nearly enough.] And thanks to the ease of editing on a computer, you can change and change and change those pebbles until the jar contents look just as you want. It could go on into eternity, but then you look at the digital time on the corner of the screen and realize you better put a final period and sign off.

Marriage Clock
H. doesn't really like me blogging late. It's true, I'm often up til 1 or 2.

I know you, Alice, he says. And as long as I've known you, you've always been in bed by ten or eleven. This isn't you. Something's going on.

I know, I'm coming. I'll be there in a minute.

Repeat cycle a few times. H. asking and me saying one more minute.

Ali! Please come to bed. I guess even The New Yorker isn't enough after a while. But I thought he said I talked too much. I do love to talk.

Everything has its price. I'm often slipping under the covers late, not getting to touch base with H. as much about his day or his hopes or worries--or mine. I'm also not reading much, since bedtime was my favorite time to read. One thing about being on Cape Cod for the next week or so [starting tomorrow night, if the stars are in their courses] is that our house doesn't have an internet connection.

I'll give some thought to better timing.

The beautiful image above is from pewterandsage.blogspot.com.

Tired

Tired, so tired
from calling and delving
thinking and questioning
singing and
driving and parking.

From rain and windshield wipers
salading and burgering
talking and worrying
coffeeing and carrying.

Waiting and watching and holding
stopping [donuts and juice for a little girl,
ice cream and cheesecake for an old man]
asking and listening
wondering, crying
and texting.

Nourishing, guiding, teaching, thanking, observing.

Loving.

My pretty white flip-flops got dirty from the puddles.

I know I will fall asleep in 5 seconds flat.