(here is my mother checking under the hood of her friend’s car in college)
periodically, everything needs a tune-up… your car needs the oil changed, the filters need to be replaced on your HVAC, the dryer vents need to be flushed out, you are due for a bikini wax… our nervous systems also need check ups and repair. the summer after my divorce i went to a retreat at the chopra center to work on restoring my psyche, which was pretty much a mess. i learned LOTS of helpful things like how to meditate (who is better equipped to teach that than deepak?), the benefits of green smoothies, yoga and gratitude and how detrimental refined sugar is, possibly worse than crack!
Read More(roșie hanging out with me in the bed… my favorite place to be!)
earlier this month i went home to spend a few days with my dad (and ROSIE)… my mom was on her annual trip with her sorority sisters (they have been friends for over FIFTY years - so sweet.) dad and i like our father/daughter time when mom is away… we turn the heat right up, we eat chocolates at breakfast (after our scrambled eggs), we watch the news, we check the weather and we take a lot of naps. it turns out rosie likes to do all of these things too (except the chocolate - we did NOT give her any scotch mallows.)
we had a very relaxing schedule… i took the first walk shift with rosie because i am a rooster and dad is more of a teenager in terms of waking times. mom left me a hat with a light on it (like a minion) so i would be able to see rosie’s “sticks” and pick them up in the early morning dark. (rosie has PINK poop bags by the way - they match her harness and leash.)
Read Morei spent the last few days with my dad… my mother went to “quilt camp” for the week with her quilting girlfriends as she has done for probably the last thirty years and i came out to berkeley to keep my father company for the weekend (i am so HAPPY that flying is an option now!) it is strange to be in the house without mom… we always have our coffee together early morning which she prepares in her very fancy, complicated machine - dad does not drink coffee - and sit at the kitchen table chatting. so i had to make my own coffee with her machine that is as fragile as an orchid and as demanding as a toddler. the first day the machine cooperated nicely which made me feel really competent and possibly a bit cocky. but the second day panic set in as he refused to carry on after i pressed the cappuccino button and red lights started flashing. i thought the little drawing was indicating that he was low on beans, but when i opened the top, there were loads of them in there. finally i realized that i was meant to empty the grounds. this is tricky as the large, flat pan is also full of mucky water that you don’t want to spill as you awkwardly make your way to the sink. finally i got everything dumped and reinstalled and then more red lights were pinging at me… this time he was low on water. HAY SEUS! he makes really good coffee but needs so much attention (this is why i have a VERY simple drip maker) and honestly this one is a VAST improvement from her last machine who was even more finicky and difficult to understand. that one had to go to the shop for detailed repair a few times before he was finally put down. my mother mourned him deeply until she brought this current guy home. she does not have pets, but caring for this coffee machine is far more consuming than feeding and cuddling with hank.
Read Morewhenever my dad cannot find a term or phrase that adequately expresses what he wants to say, he just makes one up. i grew up being told to, “sit up straight and stop SLUNCHING!” at the table or asked whether i was going to finish the “dritzel” on my plate - the last of my sauce or remains of my dinner or received announcements that someone was a “GROMP” … very unpleasant, far worse than a “grump.” (he is generally very communicative and if for some reason he cannot speak - like when my mother is saying something - he does not dare interrupt her - he finds another way. he frequently stands about a foot and a half behind her chair at the kitchen table and indicates how he feels with his eyes - he makes outrageous faces while my mother is speaking which sends my children into peals of laughter. about twenty five years ago he had his jaw wired shut for many weeks after a throat surgery and had to physically write down what he wanted to share on a yellow legal pad. my mom thought he would be spare and discriminating in what he wrote because it took more effort… instead he filled notepad after notepad with ALL of his thoughts and ideas both deep and trivial. and he made sure my mother read every single one in real time.)
Read Morefor as long as i can remember, my father has said this to me… when he was putting me to bed, when he was saying good-bye, or sometimes just because he was passing by. i always imagined a vast, navy blue sky sparkling with stars reaching down to a deep purple ocean filled with colorful, friendly fish. (somehow even after i saw jaws WAY too young, that imagery never penetrated this phrase.) the enormity of all of that love surrounding me and protecting me made feel so safe, like i moved through the world in my own special cocoon. so on the tougher days like when i wasn’t invited to the sleepover or i got a really bad hair cut (fall of 8th grade and again in 10th) or some boy didn’t like me back or we didn’t win the spirit cup senior year like EVERY other class or i didn’t get into the college i wanted (my father actually called some schools and asked for my hand printed applications back) or i didn’t get the job i interviewed for (i am colossally poor in job interviews) or the boyfriend whose eyes are too close together cheated on me (i should have known when my father pointed out his flawed eye configuration) or i forgot to put the parking brake on and my big, two-ton sedan rolled down a hill right into the side of another car whose owner was at the same party i was going to or i got laid off or i couldn’t get pregnant or i had to move from amsterdam to a hot, dusty mountain town or my marriage fell apart or i missed my children so much i remained paralyzed on the sofa binge watching "girlfriend’s guide to divorce” and eating pirate booty until the roof of my mouth was shredded or even last week when i couldn’t remember where i parked after a lunch date and looked for my car (with my date) for FORTY-FIVE minutes in unbelievable heat only to find it right in front of the restaurant (i know - it’s amazing - i did NOT hear from him again!) … on all of those days, and every other, i knew my father loved me. that’s no small thing.
Read Morefor as long as i can remember, my father has said this to me… when he was putting me to bed, when he was saying good-bye, or sometimes just because he was passing by. i always imagined a vast, navy blue sky sparkling with stars reaching down to a deep purple ocean filled with colorful, friendly fish. (somehow even after i saw jaws WAY too young, that imagery never penetrated this phrase.) the enormity of all of that love surrounding me and protecting me made feel so safe, like i moved through the world in my own special cocoon. so on the tougher days like when i wasn’t invited to the sleepover or i got a really bad hair cut (fall of 8th grade and again in 10th) or some boy didn’t like me back or we didn’t win the spirit cup senior year like EVERY other class or i didn’t get into the college i wanted (my father actually called some schools and asked for my hand printed applications back) or i didn’t get the job i interviewed for (i am colossally poor in job interviews) or the boyfriend whose eyes are too close together cheated on me (i should have known when my father pointed out his flawed eye configuration) or i forgot to put the parking brake on and my big, two-ton sedan rolled down a hill right into the side of another car whose owner was at the same party i was going to or i got laid off or i couldn’t get pregnant or i had to move from amsterdam to a hot, dusty mountain town or my marriage fell apart or i missed my children so much i remained paralyzed on the sofa binge watching "girlfriend’s guide to divorce” and eating pirate booty until the roof of my mouth was shredded or even last week when i couldn’t remember where i parked after a lunch date and looked for my car (with my date) for FORTY-FIVE minutes in unbelievable heat only to find it right in front of the restaurant (i know - it’s amazing - i did NOT hear from him again!) … on all of those days, and every other, i knew my father loved me. that’s no small thing.
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