Being Relevant

I’ve been missing, a long time. Oh I’ve written blog posts in my head hundreds of times. I do my best “writing” in the shower or on long walks, but I just couldn’t get pen to paper so to speak, or fingers to the keyboard. Truthfully, I haven’t wanted to, for a number of reasons. I went into this writing thing a few years ago after my mom died, and after leaving a steady office position in real estate to get back out to selling real estate, because there were those who felt my social media posts were lengthy and would be better served in a blog form. I have always loved writing, many friends and relatives over the years encouraged me to write, and at the time I started my little blog here, Just Joan, it was cathartic. I really didn’t have grand ideas of having my thoughts and feelings blowing up the internet, becoming a social media influencer or a published author traveling the world on book tours. (Okay, maybe the published author part did cross my mind.) I just needed a way to express myself to my little handful of followers to help myself and maybe I’d be lucky enough to connect with and help someone else. My first post was about Mother’s Day, my first without my mom. It was raw, it was truthful and it was for those like me who struggled with Mother’s Day through the years because it wasn’t a Hallmark holiday for me.

I began to share my thoughts, feelings, opinions on various topics as they had related to my life. Nothing was meant to be judgmental or even overly opinionated in a way that was meant to change anyone’s opinion. I was sharing life as I knew it, lived it, and reflected upon it. And then the dreaded pandemic hit and it seemed the whole tone and mood of the world changed. People became combative, divisive, and angry. I saw it on Facebook, witnessed it, and became victim of it. It brought me to a place where I no longer wanted to share. What can you say, what can’t you say? Who is offended by what now? It was like being punched in the gut, took the wind out of my sails, made me not want to share, but also made me feel like people weren’t worthy of all the wisdom I had to share. People…all 3 of my followers! (insert laughter) Again, I continued to write everyday, in my head, but the desire to put it here diminished.

Today a few things happened that changed that for me. I was walking my 2 month old granddaughter in the stroller and ran into someone I haven’t seen in a while. She had no idea I was a new grandma…because she’s not on social media. We laughed in a weird way that life is only real if it’s posted on social media. We spoke about the lockdown and what it did to us, sharing very similar experiences. Both previously very engaged, social people, we both admitted a very slow and reluctant emergence back into life as we knew it. She said so much of what I have been feeling. She felt it was difficult to socialize in this new world because people are so easily offended, so sensitive and she didn’t know what she could and couldn’t say. Exactly what I have been feeling. She shared with me that her son had come home to visit for a long weekend recently and she was so happy, yet she just couldn’t grasp onto the true joyous feeling she would normally have in this visit. She said something felt just a little off, a little black cloud over her inspite of this very happy visit with her son. I’ve been sharing these very same feelings with a dear friend of mine recently. So many blessings in my life, so many good things happening…and while I’m happy and enjoying it all…there is a tiny “off” feeling with all of it. My dear friend feels that same way and said so many people are expressing that to her. So, to get back to the woman I ran into today she said the only way we can combat all of this that we are feeling is to just push ourselves to get back out there, to interact with people, to socialize and to just be who we are, speak like we normally would and just carry on. And so, I’ve been wanting to get back to this, yet fearful of being vulnerable, but she is right…I must push myself, do the things I want to do, be myself. So here I am.

After my granddaughter left today I was scrolling Facebook and what should pop up but my dear friend doing a video. I know her to be a poster, but not someone who does a lot of videos, so of course I had to turn up the volume and listen to what she had to say. She was speaking about being authentic, and about social media and it’s demands and that she really didn’t want any part of doing all the things you need to do to keep a presence on social media. She spoke not only of it being difficult and time consuming to keep up, she flat out said she doesn’t want to. She wants to do social media the old fashioned way… to share things, to ask for and to offer prayers when needed, to give encouragement, to comment on other’s posts, and to promote her business of real estate. She doesn’t want to meet all the new demands. I was curious to see what others were commenting on her post and that’s when I really lost it. Facebook directed me to the “most relevant” comments. What does that even mean? I clicked on a little arrow next to those words and was taken to a screen where I had the option to click on All Comments or Most Relevant. Apparently the default goes to Most Relevant. How does Facebook decide what would be relevant to me? Why wouldn’t I want to see All of the comments, or at least decide for myself if there are some I want to scroll by and others I prefer to read? The word relevant really set me off. You want to know how you can be relevant? Pick up a phone and call your family and friends. Pay visits to family and friends. Make lunch dates. BE present in the lives of your family and friends and THAT is what makes you relevant. Social media does not make you relevant. We have been told if we are self employed, running a business, we must do things a certain way to get ourselves seen. It’s not enough to “post” every day, to comment on other people’s posts. Now we must make videos, “stories”, reels. We must use certain music, there are dances to perform, lip syncing, silly stuff. It’s almost as if the powers that be at social media companies are sitting around a cocktail table saying, “ok, we got them to do this, now let’s make them do something really silly and humiliating and see how many jump onboard.” NO…No, most of us don’t want to do that! So like my friend who is going to continue to do social media the way she likes to do it and take her chances, and even take breaks…I think we could all follow in those footsteps.

I have written before that I decided to limit my time on FB and chose to go over to Instagram in search of lighter content. I got involved in following home decor accounts only to be surprised at how much anger exists on that platform as well. Some people have too much time on their hands criticizing someone’s decorating choices when the opportunity to scroll, unfollow, or not follow at all exists. Many of the accounts I follow are young moms “working from home” by becoming influencers and product sponsors. I can not tell you the number of accounts that no longer exist because of burnout, the ridiculous demands, and the inability to be individually creative on a forum that was designed for creative content. I remind myself this is a job, a career for many of these women and like any job there are bosses and hours to be put in and rules and guidelines to follow. But then I think IG has become like going to one of those Sip and Paint parties where everyone has to paint the same thing. While I’ve never been to one, I imagine it could be fun, but certainly not very creative. IG allows for less and less creativity these days, and requires more conformity.

So getting back to my purpose, my vision. I needed a creative outlet, a place to write, so I started my little blog, Just Joan. I thought it might go a little further if I linked it to an IG account. For about 5 minutes I thought I would keep up with that end of it, to keep myself relevant, to gain more exposure. But my heart is not in that. I just like to write, whether it’s for me, 5 people, or 5000 people. Occasionally I liked to share a pretty photo from my garden. Sometimes I liked to share a little Monday motivation because I happen to love Monday. I was trying to be consistent, so that I’d be relevant. But like my dear friend in her video today…I don’t want to. I just want to be authentic. I just want to do things the way I like to do them. I am at a point in my life where I don’t need to be a breadwinner, I’m not climbing a ladder of any kind, well, unless I’m painting a room in my house. When I meditate in the morning and envision my life, none of it involves anything very corporate and for certain not one bit of that vision includes dancing and pointing to words that don’t exist. I just like to write, to get words out of my head and onto “paper.” Whether it serves as a diary to my future self or it goes viral to the masses, to remain authentic to myself, I’m just going to write my thoughts and feelings as I see fit. From time to time I am guilty of posting the little memes about the beauty of being over 50 and saying what you want, finding yourself, being yourself, speaking your mind, blah blah blah. And here I am writing about being authentic…yet I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wanted to come on here and write, only to fear criticism, fear of offending someone over something not meant to be offensive, fear of unknowingly stirring a pot, fear of causing a firestorm of negative comments, fear of losing friends. And yet I’ve become so fiercely protective of myself, my thoughts, my opinions, my right to speak out on issues as I see them…while simultaneously fearing this new cancel culture.

I’m tired of this new culture, this new world…physically and mentally. It’s exhausting. People being offended by the lack of an intent to offend is tiring. I’m really tired of social media. Maybe it has played itself out. What was meant to join people together is actually pulling people apart. I think a way of sharing to the masses was meant to coincide with but not take the place of actual human interaction. Collectively I think we all allowed that to happen. It’s easy to share a personal or family milestone by posting on social media but nothing should replace picking up the phone, writing a personal note via old fashioned snail mail, popping over for a visit, gatherings to celebrate life and it’s milestones or gatherings just to share a pizza and conversation. My dear friend I speak of often is a cheerleader to the world, she really is, and she has always looked for the good in social media and used it for that purpose, even when at times she has been beaten down on it. I, on the other hand look for the good in almost everything, but I see very little good in social media. I’ve felt that way for a while but my distaste for it is growing each and every day. I have written a blog post on this as well, and all the things I’ve been guilty of. It’s not a judgement to those who use it and enjoy it, I’ve admitted to my own misuse of it. The irony is, through the uses of social media, I’m learning just how destructive it is. I’m seeing that while there is so much censorship in the area of political opinion of adults, there isn’t much being done to protect our youth on these platforms. I’ve learned so much about chat rooms and grooming, and all the things that seem so innocent to allow our children to be exposed to…are exposing them to a dark world they don’t need to be part of. There isn’t much talk about sexual predators and drug pushers, because it’s uncomfortable. It’s easy to talk about and censor political conversations, but try to talk about what really goes on in the dark world of social media and our kids and you will be labeled a conspiracy theorist and people will run away from you. If I didn’t happen to us or our kids, then it doesn’t exist…we can put our heads in the sand. I’m becoming increasingly aware of what these platforms to do adults and relationships but what it does to a generation that has grown up with it is alarming! Each generation thinks the one before them doesn’t know the things we know, lacks knowledge and awareness and that we are doing it better. I don’t think that at all. This generation and future ones are doomed if we don’t do something about social media.

We need to get back to more human interaction. We need more Sunday dinners with multigenerational family and friends. We need to teach our youth the true value of their grandparents and the experience and wisdom they have. We need to set boundaries with our time on social media and all electronics. We need to get back to vacations and their purpose, it is not to bring your laptop and work or to sit on the beach with your family and answer emails via your phone. Oh how I wish for the days when I can use my phone for phone calls only, and the occasional text, and to take pictures because I have always carried a camera long before there were camera phones. Truth is, I can do that now. If only I was disciplined enough to do it. If only I could break the intended addiction. I am setting time limits, I am setting boundaries, and I am making changes.

Getting back to my dear friend who wonders how taking breaks from social media or not participating in it’s silliness is going to affect her business…I wonder if the time freed up from the strangled hold of social media will allow her more time to have more real interactions, give her more time to do business the old fashioned way. And I’m using her as more of an example than holding her to the fire as a social study. Trust me, she knows more “real” people than anyone I know! How will anyone’s business succeed or suffer with social media? I commented on her video post that as realtors we are always taught to promote ourselves and our business and to keep our names out there and to let people know what we do…to keep ourselves relevant. We post when we have a new listing, we post when we get it under contract, we post when it sells. Maybe we post along the way when doing open houses, or inspections, or showings with our buyer clients. We are letting our sphere know what we do and that we are busy doing it. I know when I got back into selling real estate I attended all the classes on how to engage your followers on social media, how to do stories and make reels. And I always said aloud, “oh I want to do this, but not today.” I was going to do it when I lost 20 pounds, lost 10 pounds, the day after I had my hair colored and it looked its best, when I had the perfect outfit on, when I felt more comfortable in my skin. But the truth is, my heart was never really in it. I wanted to participate because as a realtor I needed to be on the cutting edge of social media. Hearing my dear friend say on social media that she just doesn’t want to do “all the things” gave me the freedom to admit it to myself and here that I just don’t want to do it either. I don’t. If I did, I would have done it. I used to think it was about pushing myself out of my comfort zone and something I should work on, but truth is, it’s just truly something I don’t want to do. And maybe I will another day, a month from now, a year from now…or maybe I never will. And I am comfortable with that. Sometimes I do question the push to promote oneself as a realtor. If I made cupcakes as my self-employed living, would I tell you each day how many cupcakes I sold? Or would I just make damn good cupcakes and run a good business and engage with my customers and give them a great experience? I suppose there is a balance in promoting what you do and love, and doing it and doing it so well that maybe you just don’t have time for the social media part. I follow many realtors on the various social sites and have to say sometimes the top producing agents just aren’t keeping up with their social media…they are out busy doing what it is they do. As my dear friend says, just be authentic. Do you.

Last summer I was sitting on the beach with a couple who I have known since our now 30 year old sons started kindergarten together. I wanted to run home and write about our conversation but I was in my not sharing phase. Suddenly now the story seems relevant. While I walked to the beach I saw the husbands work truck and assumed he was inside someone’s home working. When I got to the beach and saw him sitting with his wife I told him I thought he was working. This man is a painter, runs a very successful painting business, has provided a truly lovely life for his wife and kids. He told me he wasn’t doing the physical work of painting much anymore, hadn’t in years. So there he was, able to enjoy a weekday afternoon on the beach with his wife. He went on to tell me when he’s not working, he turns his phone off. His wife actually said she watches him pull into the driveway each night and turn his phone off before getting out of his truck. He went on to explain when he’s home, on vacation, or outside of “normal work hours” he doesn’t have his phone on or even with him. If any family member should need him, his wife has her phone and he can be reached that way. His phone is for work and he set his boundaries as to when he does and when he doesn’t use it. He went on to say that while in Aruba with his family, one time an employee tried to reach him and ended up calling his wife in order to get in touch with him. He basically told the employee to figure it out for himself, whatever the issue was. This man has no social media for himself or his business. His business grew because he was good at what he did and through word of mouth, and he ended up providing his services via high end builders. By most standards this man is financially successful while providing his family with nice cars, beautiful clothing, vacations, private education and all the things by which society measures success. All without one bit of social media. All with setting boundaries with his phone and demands on his time. Now I did go home and wonder if he could grow his business successfully today, starting it today in the world we live in. I came to the conclusion that yes, yes he could. Much like my dear friend in her real estate business it’s more about their work ethic, their professionalism, their sphere, the way they interact with people. There are more successful people and businesses operating outside of the ties of social media than we realize. We are being conditioned to believe social media is our only way to be relevant.

Being relevant. Please let go of any notion that your relevance is tied to social media. If you want to stay relevant, like I’m working on, push yourself to get back into the world to be physically social. Social media has become an oxymoron. We have learned to hide behind a keyboard and say things we might not say in the presence of others because we have lost compassion, we have lost the ability to listen to others and to debate with civility, we have lost the ability to disagree with others but still love and respect them. We have become so black and white, we have learned to draw hard lines because we have limited real social interaction. With the birth of my new granddaughter, I am reminded each time I hold her, the importance of eye contact. She craves it. She stares at you and wants your attention. If you smile and make faces, she smiles and coos back at you. Eye contact is such a simple, basic human need. Oh the time I have wasted with my face in a phone while in the presence of real people. No doubt I have made friends and connections via social media and enjoy seeing photos and hearing about a day in the life of those friends. But nothing, absolutely nothing takes the place of real human interaction, reading someone’s eyes, reading someone’s expression, seeing their joy or their struggles in their face. So stay relevant to your family and friends by putting the phone down, or by picking it up to make an actual phone call. Get rid of notifications for social media apps or if you can, try to move social media apps to another page on your phone so they aren’t on the home screen. When I learn how to do that, I’ll let you know! It’s the little steps. Our addiction to this is real, it was planned and intentional, so we can go cold turkey as many I know have, or we can take steps and wean ourselves off. But your relevance, your importance is NEVER going to be found in social media. Make the lunch date, make the phone call, plan a technology free vacation, walk more, get out in nature, wake up each morning and go outside for 15 minutes before looking at your phone, take in all the beauty around you, look up! Your relevance comes from the relationships you form in real life. As my dad would say, live your life as if someone is reading your eulogy. I don’t want my eulogy to read, Joan was always on her phone (though one of my kids did write that in preschool in a Mother’s Day poem…at the time it made for a good rhyme but would horrify me to think that’s how they think of me now). I want my eulogy to be that I lived life, smiled at people, talked to strangers, made people feel important and loved, did for others, loved nature and flowers and the beach, that I danced and loved a good party. I want to go out feeling relevant because I made others feel that way. Enjoy your day…get out there and spend it with people, nature, God…and leave your phone home!

A New Year, And I Resolve To Be ME!

I’ve never been one for New Years Eve, at least not the kind where you have to pay a silly amount of money to go out somewhere you really don’t want to be and pretend to be having a good time. Don’t get me wrong, I can have a good time pretty much anywhere, I love a good party, and I like getting dressed up. I guess it’s the forced perception that the stroke of midnight is going to wipe away all the bad stuff and you will be showered with all good things. Truth is every stroke of midnight brings a new day, the sun will rise, the sun will set. Funny thing is, I love Monday, the beginning of each week, but for whatever reason I don’t see New Years Day as a beginning. In a way I see the day as an ending, the end of the holiday season, although I do keep my Christmas decorations up until January 6. When I was a kid, New Years Day was another day to visit family, sort of like Christmas but without the presents. I did the same with my kids when they were little. After sporting new fancy Christmas outfits, New Years Day became a day for sweatpants and tshirts and we would gather at my aunt’s house or my moms. We would have a simple buffet lunch of make your own sandwiches and we’d finish off all of the stale Christmas cookies before they got thrown out. It was a day of board games, football games and naps. No one was rushing to take down decorations or clean the house, it was a day of being with family and relaxing together. An ending to a season of gathering that began in November. Sort of bittersweet.

Again, being a fan of Monday and beginnings, you’d think I’d be a fan of New Years Day and the clean slate we are told it brings. But I’m not. Maybe because it’s too broad, doing away with an old year and too many promises for the next 365 days. I guess I do better with the promises I can make for a week, or truthfully for the day when I wake up each morning. I don’t like to bite off more than I can chew, only to find myself choking. I know “successful” people have vision boards and business plans, they make resolutions and now they have “a word” for the year. I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. If I did them in the traditional sense, trying to perfect what I did “wrong” the previous year, my list would be a mile long and I’d be exhausted trying to do it all. Be a better wife, be a better mom, be a better friend, have a cleaner house, organize my house, unclutter my house, clean my car more often, cook more often and try to enjoy it, exercise more, loose weight once and for all, be more productive at work, close X amount of deals, walk the dogs more often, read more often, meditate more often, volunteer more often, write more often, spend less money, be more productive overall, relax more. This approach just doesn’t work for me, statistically it really doesn’t work for many.

I’m also not choosing a word. Why? Well to be honest I find it trendy, and I don’t do trendy. That’s the rebellious, bratty part of me that I have actually learned to like and embrace. It’s who I am, and at 58 years old it’s not going to change, nor do I want it to. Really tho, with trends I generally don’t jump on board, take a step back and think it through whether or not it makes sense for me. By the time I think it through and embrace it, it’s not a trend anymore and therefore I don’t have to be trendy afterall! The thing is resolutions overwhelm me because I have so many, and a word of the year stumps me because I actually couldn’t possibly just have one! While people generally choose “a” New Years resolution, and “a” word of the year, I have too many of both, and feeling overwhelmed is never good.

So where does that leave me? I try to wake up each morning and to be grateful for another day, to look for the good, to be joyful. I could have a word or phrase for the day, or a word for the situation I’m in. Just breath. You are enough. Remember who you are. You are joyful. Get to work. Be nice. Get off social media and be social. Take a walk. Exercise. Do you really want to eat that. Nourish your body. Nourish your soul. Call your friend. Dance. Smile. Laugh. Have a good cry. Embrace the suck. Meditate. Turn off the TV. Each moment we are given the chance to make a better life. Someone once told me, always look for the next right thing to do. I haven’t always listened, I don’t always listen. But I do my best. That’s all anyone can do. And everyone’s best is different, because it’s their best. I’ve learned to embrace the things about me that I always thought were the things “wrong” with me, things that needed to be fixed, and you’d make that promise on New Year’s Eve to fix it. Like being rebellious. I no longer see that as a fault, but rather a part of my personality that makes me me, and I have learned to like me. I have faults and I have a list of mistakes miles long, not a mile long, but miles. They aren’t going to be undone or fixed or made better by the drop of a ball in Times Square, the change of a year at midnight. Nor should they be.

I don’t see the change in a calendar year as a time to change myself. I’m sort of done changing actually…better myself, enhance myself…but I don’t really want to change. I like me. I can look to better myself at 2:00 pm on a random Tuesday afternoon, and I can decide at that random time to drop a bad habit as well. In fact I woke up one random March morning last year, heavier than I’ve ever been, so stressed out by work that I was in tears, and not feeling the joy that everyone tells me radiates from me. My emotional and physical resistance was down and I ended up with the dreaded creeping crude. I was determined to fight it off and in that moment I realized how important my mental and physical health are, how they work hand in hand, and how I needed to take better care of myself. Not tomorrow, not next Monday, not after I felt better and could eat all of my favorite bad foods first, but in that moment. I was (we all were) a year into living in a world with lockdowns and restrictions and it had taken it’s toll on me, it messed with my head, it depressed me. The undertone, the overtone…all of it had gotten the best of me while I was going about my business trying to live my life. I don’t do well when I don’t feel in control. I don’t need to control people or situations, but I need to feel in control of myself. The pandemic took that control from me, took freedoms from me, took my happiness. Yea, I know it didn’t take my life so it’s a small price to pay, blah blah blah. But mental health that affects your physical health is actually not a small price to pay. Anyway, what I can control is what I eat, my weight, my health, my ability to exercise. And that is where I started. It’s a slow and steady process because I didn’t set out to just loose weight, but to regain my health, for a lifetime. And my hope is that the physical weight loss will take some emotional weight with it. Life is good, has been good, will be good and there is much to look forward to, but I feel like I am living half a life, under restriction, under rules, among guilt and shame that you’ll unknowingly spread the creeping crude to someone while you didn’t know you had it, under a tone of division. Sometimes it’s all just too much.

So yes, after a month long sugar food fest and tossing aside good habits I had built, of course eating better is something I commit to this week like almost everyone else. Yes, after I take down my Christmas decorations I’ll want to organize them better, clean my storage area and get rid of clutter then deep clean my house. After a bit of a lull at work I’ll make a business plan to get back in full swing. My January comes with many of the same promises your January comes with, I plan to do “all the things.” But other than committing to staying on my health journey, I’m not really committing to anything else. I think if I can do that successfully, everything else will fall into place. My health journey requires goals, determination, commitment, a vision, all the things to set myself up for success. I know myself well. I break promises to myself. I change my mind, frequently, but I’m not compromising on my health. I know my life falls into place better when I feel good. I know what extra weight, mentally and physically does to me and I know what I can accomplish when I’m not weighed down. I know part of that health journey is gratitude, looking for the good, appreciation. And that I will do my best at acknowledging, maybe even writing it down…maybe. But I’m being realistic. I set goals, but also don’t believe in setting yourself up for failure, or going overboard. Speaking of going overboard, and my issue with being trendy…last year I got on board with that tiered tray trend in home decor and ended up with like 5 of them! That’s why it’s best for me to stay away from trends and stay true to myself…I go all in, and then have regrets. I mean really, what do you do with those things anyway, much less 5 of them?!

For someone who likes pomp and circumstance, ceremonial recognition, milestone markers, holidays and traditions, and the significance of Monday and new beginnings, I just can’t embrace New Years resolutions. I look back but try not to live with regrets. I look forward with hopes and dreams but not necessarily promises. I did see a fun idea to do throughout the year for next New Years Eve, and I’ll tell you right now I’m not doing it but I think it’s a cute idea….get a jar, hopefully you’ll need a big one, and anytime something good happens, write it down and put it in the jar, then on New Year’s Eve next year, read all the good things that happened to you during the year. I am going to try and journal my gratitude each day as part of my health journey but I know I’m not putting strips of paper into a jar to read next year. I just know I’m not, but I still think it’s a wonderful idea and someone ought to try it! A change in a calendar year doesn’t take away loss and sadness and any bad crap, it doesn’t promise only good times ahead but I guess we all need to look for the good, always.

So…I do have hopes and wishes for the new year, for tomorrow, for next week, next month, for the next 15 minutes. I hope we can put this pandemic behind us. It’s been ugly. It’s divided people, family, friends. I loved when we didn’t know people’s political parties or opinions but still had a wide range of friends from different backgrounds. And I loved a time when we found out their opinions and we still loved each other anyway and enjoyed each others company. I hate the way we live now. We shun people for their opinions. We judge them. We see everything in black and white, we take sides, in a bad way. I take sides, I stand by my side, but I appreciate your side, where you stand. More people need to do that. I am comfortable in my opinions and views now and not afraid to share them, but my opinion doesn’t mean I’m judging you, and it’s not a tool with which you should judge me. I wish that being inclusive, didn’t meant you start to exclude. It’s like when your 3rd grade daughter tells you there is a new girl in school…you tell her to be sure to include the new girl at the lunch table, but you don’t tell her to kick someone out of the lunch table and stop speaking to them in favor of the new girl. I wish adults could learn to get along better because we are no longer role models to young children. We are poorly behaved. In the new year I wish for more love and kindness, and acceptance…not just buzzwords, but I really wish that. I wish lockdowns and restrictions would go away, along with a certain medical status. I don’t do well with any of that, I’ve seen what it has done to my health and I’ve seen isolation destroy the mental health of some of my elderly loved ones. People aren’t meant to live that way. I don’t have the answers, I just have wishes…wishes that it would all go away. I wish for normal, not a new normal, but normal.

So, New Year’s Day has come and gone with no resolution other than to be myself, love myself, and to take excellent care of myself. I’ll fill the days with goals and visions, I’ll manifest, I’ll make a business and a life plan. I’ll wake up in the morning and make a list. I’ll do all the things I know lead to being a success, but I define my success in my own way. My version of being a success is if I can feel at peace, live in a state of grateful joy. Those plans and visions will change frequently because I don’t write much in stone. I do admire those of you who make a New Year’s Eve resolution, have a goal for the year, a word for the year but thankfully I have become so comfortable with myself that I know it doesn’t work for me. I love getting to know me and being comfortable in my own skin. I’m going to continue to work on my physical and mental health, not because it’s a new year, but because I am worth it, and in doing so I believe all the other things that are important to me will become my reality.

As for Mondays, I still love Mondays and the hope and promise they bring…because I like small bites and not big gulps. I’ll be grateful for another day and look forward to what the week has in store. Always start and end the day with gratitude. Always be in the moment and always have something to look forward to. And in the words of my friend Elise, always do the next right thing. We don’t need a ball to drop in Times Square for any of this. Happy Monday!

Is Christmas Too Commercialized?

We hear it all the time, “Christmas is too commercial now, we have lost the true meaning of Christmas, the holidays are nothing but stressful.” Bah humbug!

Christmas is what we make of it. For years I’ve been hearing from my generation that suddenly Christmas has become commercialized. I’ve given that some thought and wonder when we started to feel that way. I’m 58 years old, born in late 1963. Some of my favorite Christmas movies were made in the mid 1960’s, A Charlie Brown Christmas and How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Let’s delve into those a little bit. On Christmas morning in Whoville, The Who’s wake up to nothing under their trees, in fact, there isn’t even a tree, not a present, not a decoration, not even a crumb too small for a mouse. The Grinch has come overnight to steal “Christmas.” The Who’s don’t even flinch. They joyfully gather in their town square to lock hands and sing, to welcome Christmas, and to share a roast beast. The Grinch is puzzled that Christmas “came without ribbons, it came without tags. It came without packages, boxes, or bags.” He goes on to say, “maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas means a little bit more.” And that was in 1966. I was just 3 years old.

Another favorite favorite of mine is A Charlie Brown Christmas, I love everything about it but it is particularly poignant when Charlie Brown gets frustrated and asks if anyone knows the true meaning of Christmas. Sweet little Linus is all too happy to share the true meaning and begins to quote scripture, “for unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.” After he is done reciting scripture he turns and says, “that’s what Christmas is all about Charlie Brown.” Linus shared that reminder in 1965.

It would appear that I have spent my entire life in a commercialized Christmas, the sentiment isn’t really anything new to me or my generation, that frustration has been expressed for almost 60 years now. Several years ago I read the book, Skipping Christmas which later became the movie Christmas With The Kranks. A lover of all things Christmas, I was both horrified and slightly intrigued by the idea of taking a year off from celebrating Christmas and all the things that come with it. I think most people are familiar with the storyline…the couple’s adult daughter will not be home for Christmas so the husband proposes the idea to his wife to take all the money they would have spent on Christmas and take a cruise with it. There will be no decorations, not even the Frosty that every neighbor puts on their rooftop. No Christmas cards from the local stationary store, no tree from the boy scouts, no fundraising calendar from the local police, and biggest of all, no Christmas Eve party for the neighborhood complete with a honey baked ham. The wife reluctantly goes with the plan until they receive a last minute phone call from their daughter that she will in fact be home on Christmas Eve, bringing her fiance, and she can’t wait to share with him her traditional family Christmas. The wife goes into a frenzy of putting together the Christmas Eve party, but not until she puts on her Christmas sweater vest. You know, everything seems to go better when you are dressed festively!

The couple goes through a series of comical mishaps trying to make sure their Christmas Eve is the same as it always has been, and that their daughter has no idea they planned to “skip” Christmas. The neighbors who had been uninvited to the annual Christmas Eve party kick it into high gear to help out, based on the fact they adore the couple’s daughter, even though they are quite annoyed with the husband and his crazy idea to skip everything. There is a scramble to get a tree, to get the decorations up, to get Frosty on the roof, to get the traditional honey baked ham. What stands out to me when the movie ends is that not once do you see the couple panic that they don’t have gifts. Their adult daughter simply wants to come home to the annual Christmas Eve party as it’s always been, and to share that with her fiance. That is what the parents and neighbors scramble to do…to recreate traditions, the things that feel like home, the things that make their daughter proud to bring her fiance home to.

Needless to say the movie ends on Christmas Eve with love and laughter. There is no Christmas morning without presents and an explanation that Dad wanted to skip Christmas. It never was about the presents. It was about the traditions.

So all of this makes me wonder, why do we think Christmas is so commercial? Did we make it that way? Do we get sucked into it all? Like I pointed out, apparently Christmas has been viewed as too commercial my entire life, but there are plenty of reminders that it doesn’t have to be that way, including right there in our favorite Christmas movies. The power is in our hands to make it what we want it to be.

I will point out what has changed over the years. When I grew up in the 60’s and 70’s, we had to wait until our birthdays or Christmas to receive gifts, even to get the things we needed. Socks, underwear and tshirts were a staple gift under the Christmas tree and no one thought anything of it, in a bad way. There was no Amazon with things showing up on your doorstep the next day, there was no instant gratification. I’m not even sure my parents had credit cards. They saved, they had Christmas clubs at their local bank, they used layaway. Our gifts were special because they came once a year. People didn’t buy what they wanted when they wanted it. I think that is what makes the gift giving so stressful today. Everyone has what they need, they get it themselves. And maybe in a way that is a good thing because if we want to, we can take the emphasis off of the gift giving and put it back on time spent together…if we want to.

When my kids were little, (and a little bit now) I was caught up in the gift giving craze. Santa made it big! But also the way I was raised, I held off until birthdays and Christmas to give my kids what they wanted. As they became older I had to give into the immediate gratification, “mom I need a new hockey stick now, I need new sneakers for basketball, I need a new dress for the dance, I need I need I need. So eventually each year when Christmas rolled around it became a struggle to come up with meaningful gifts. Admittedly, many years I just bought “stuff” to fill boxes for under the tree.

What became stressful over the years was the gifts for everyone, extended family, hostess gifts, teacher gifts, cookie exchanges, Secret Santa parties, and on and on. It does become too much. At some point we stopped the sibling gift exchange and only gave to each other’s kids which eventually became a $15 gift card exchange which eventually came to a stop a few years ago. Someone said they weren’t participating that year, no explanation, no questions asked, so we all stopped it. But we still gather together, do an activity, play a game, and have a wonderful time. Last year I was feeling a bit generous after having missed the previous Easter together, a tough year with the pandemic, and our 1st Christmas without my mom so I decided to give a small gift card to each of my nieces and nephews…sort of like Oprah, I walked through the house saying, “and you get a gift card, and you get a gift card!” But I also announced that it was something I felt like I wanted to do that year, and it may never happen again. I didn’t want my siblings or nieces and nephews to feel bad they didn’t have anything for me, or to think they had to do the same in coming years. It was a true gift from the heart and didn’t need reciprocation. I felt a little bit like I was carrying on my mom’s spirit of giving.

I think if Christmas is stressful for us, whether a financial or emotional struggle, we need to feel okay with speaking up. I didn’t for many years. There were financial struggles that I kept to myself while silently making myself sick with worry over how I was going to afford a gift for this relative or that friend. Having 5 kids, I set a budget for teacher gifts and made them look festive, only to have a class parent reach out for a donation, one I couldn’t afford times 5. It became a game of moving around money and taking this gift to give that person and so on. And that’s not to say teachers don’t deserve a gift. I think it was more the fear of telling a family member you couldn’t afford gifts for them, while they would see the pile under your tree for your kids. I feared the judgement. Eventually it went from a financial issue to a simple why. Why are we giving so many gifts? I sort of wished I had done the Wiseman thing for my kids, 3 gifts, like were given to Baby Jesus. Why did I think I needed a gift for anyone who walked through the door? Why do I stress over gifts for my husband? He’s a great gift giver while I simply am not. I need to be okay with that. We all need to learn to be okay with saying no, cutting back and we also need to learn to give grace and acceptance to those who tell us no, without question. I don’t need a gift, I need your company. While growing up Thanksgiving was just Thanksgiving (and I loved it!), somewhere along the way my mom turned that into a gift giving holiday, most likely when she became a grandmother. She gave gifts that were a kickoff to the season, maybe a gingerbread house kit or a Christmas video when those existed. It was very sweet really. But then my siblings and I felt we needed to reciprocate. I remember one year my sister calling me in a panic to say, what did you get mom? I told her I decided I wasn’t getting her anything that year, that Thanksgiving was not a gift giving holiday for me and while I appreciated her giving to our kids, I wasn’t going to stress about a gift at Thanksgiving. It was so freeing to me.

So as I sit here writing this, I have my Christmas gift list next to me, glancing over to make sure the lists are even for my adult children and that I have enough for my husband, whose birthday happens to be the day after Christmas. So I will freely admit, I am still not over the guilt that comes with the gift giving. But I’m working on it. I’m working on cutting back, I’m working on saying no. What is important to me is time spent together and our traditions. Oh we have lots of Christmas traditions and many have changed over the years as the kids grew older, time grew shorter. My Christmas is still faith based, the birth of Jesus. Santa is long gone but hoping he will make a return next year with the birth of my 1st grandchild this March. Blending the two was always important to me. While my kids never really asked, I was armed with lots of explanations as to why some kids didn’t get as much, why we “adopted a family” off of the church Christmas tree ,why we donated toys to the many causes. I don’t think they didn’t ask because they were self absorbed and selfish, I think they didn’t ask because they felt safe and secure…if that makes sense…and because it was just something we did. Making my family feel safe and secure is truly the best gift I can give them. If we can share that feeling with others, all the better.

So how do we stop the Christmas madness, how do we stop it from being too commercial and about the gift giving? Just say no to what doesn’t work for you and say yes to the things that do. You are in control of the tone you set for the holiday. My favorite part of the holidays is making my home welcoming. I love decorating and most of my decorations have been passed down or were purchased when I was 1st married. I use lots of greenery from the outdoors. I light my favorite scented candles. I love a cloudy day when my Christmas lights twinkle that much brighter. I have music playing throughout the house. I can quickly heat up a pot of coffee or tea for an unexpected guest. I love to share my home. I don’t need anyone to show up with a hostess gift, or worse yet not stop by because they don’t have one or can’t afford one. Someday I’d like to host a “cookie exchange” but I’ll do all the baking and send everyone home with the cookies…no one else has to show up with cookies. And I don’t even like to bake! I say this because there were years I didn’t attend cookie exchanges because money was tight and I didn’t have the extra money for the ingredients to bake. I’d love to have my friends over in their pj’s to watch a movie, no hostess gift allowed. I’d love to take a group of friends out for lunch or a cocktail, my treat, and no gift exchange. I simply just want to give the gift of time, and to get together. I think the last almost 2 years of on and off isolation and things being canceled has made me realize how important it is to just be together. I miss that.

We can choose to make Christmas less commercial. Choose to spend time together and do activities. Gather up the family and drive around looking at Christmas lights. Bring along a carafe of hot chocolate and cups, a few cookies and some candycanes. You are never too old for that stuff. Or bundle up and take a walk through your neighborhood. Designate a phone free night and order a pizza and watch Christmas movies together. Have a family cookie baking day. Perhaps take a day trip with family to those Norman Rockwell looking towns and have lunch or a cocktail and do some window shopping. Make memories. Visit an arboretum because being surrounded by flowers really does lift your spirits. Attend midnight mass. Go through old photos together. My goal for the new year is to get photos off of my phone and into a photo album, like the old days. One of the best family get togethers I ever held was a few year ago, pre pandemic. Looking back, it was most likely the virus that delayed an extended family Christmas celebration, which again delayed a January birthday celebration, which became a get together in the beginning of February. My cousin made various sauces, or gravy if you will, and traveled to my home with it. I cooked pasta. A cousin on the other side of the family had recently come across boxes of old slides that featured me and my siblings and our relatives on my mom’s side of the family. My husband gifted me with an old slide projector. We gathered together to watch them together as a family, and even some of my children came home from their apartments to watch. What was most touching was to watch my aunt during the slide show, to see her beloved parents and her deceased husband, to see herself and my mom as young women. Of course I got very excited to see myself as a baby or young girl! We loved looking at how people dressed back then, we pointed out furniture and knick knacks that have been passed down through the generations and some of us still have. We noticed there were very few pictures of my dad and realized he must have been taking all the pictures. I reminded my kids who don’t like me pulling my phone out all the time, that long before there were cameras on phones and social media, we took pictures to capture ordinary moments. I will never forget looking around my family room that night and watching people laugh and cry. It was our delayed cousin Christmas, held in February, but it created one of my warmest memories. Like me, get those photos off of your phone. Next Christmas gather with your siblings and extended family and share photos old and new. Our pictures are the story of our life and they should be treasured and shared. My daughters 1st night home from college this year she sat on the floor going through old Christmas albums from when she was a baby and toddler. It warmed my heart. So other than the cost of developing photos, a gathering of this sort is priceless. Put it on your calendar for next year. And take pictures! It’s so hard explaining to a generation that grew up with social media (and don’t like it) that when I take pictures it is to capture moments in time, not to be altered or always shared on social media, but to chronicle our lives together.

What else can you do to make Christmas less commercial? Give to others. Make donations to your favorite charities, not for the tax write offs but out of genuine desire to make a difference. Drop simple gifts off on the porch of someone you know to be in need, or simply to brighten their day, maybe something as simple as wrapping paper and tape, gift cards to a food store or for coffee, a Christmas mug. Maybe send someone a beautiful flower arrangement from your small local florist. You can be generous and grand in your giving, but something simple and thoughtful goes a long way as well. So many stories to share, which I actually choose not to share ( I have this thing about keeping acts of kindness private) but I’ll share one from last Christmas. I was in Target and the cashier expressed how tired she was, as was I. I’m not a big Starbucks person but I knew I was going to treat myself to a coffee on my way out the door,(Target has a Starbucks inside the store) a festive one with peppermint and whipped cream. When I placed my order I grabbed a gift card and ran it back to the cashier. She started to tear up and say thank you and I ran off, not wanting to cry myself. It was a simple act of appreciation.

As for the people you know, the family and friends, learn to be honest. Maybe keep Christmas about the kids and after a certain age no gifts. Plan the get togethers and make it clear, no gifts, but insist on the get togethers. Maybe give a jar with slips of paper for activities to do together throughout the year, or maybe slips of paper of things you like about that person. Maybe print out a photo or two that’s stuck in your camera phone and present it in a beautiful frame. As you can see, I’m big on the photos. Now just to get them off of my phone!

The holiday season is meant to be joyous, not stressful. Make it about spending time together, less about the gifts. Make traditions, be insistent on family time. But if gift giving makes you happy, do it! I think an expectation of reciprocating is what I don’t like, but I love to give gifts. If you want to cut back or eliminate gift gifting, say so, make it clear but keep your reason short and sweet. I was afraid to do that.

The weeks between Thanksgiving and New Years Day can be hellish and stressful. The financial stress can be overwhelming between gifts, decorations, additional food and all the extras that come up this time of year. The emotional stress can be heavy. The losses we have suffered during the year can be magnified at a time when everything around us is telling us to fa la la la la, but we are feeling more like George Bailey wondering if the world would be better off without us. Not everyone has family and friends to support them and gather together with. It can be a lonely time. Right now I’m speaking to those of us who have it pretty good and like myself, like to complain over a little self inflicted stress. We have the power to make the holidays happy. It’s a little too late for this year, but get out your calendar or notebook and write down what caused you stress this holiday season, and what brought you peace, what you enjoyed doing and what you didn’t and do things differently next year. I don’t like baking, so I do it with my oldest son because the fact that my married son who is about to become a father comes home to bake cookies with me is worth all the trouble! I like to accept unexpected invitations so in order to do so I stay ahead of my shopping and wrapping. I don’t like wrapping, so when my husband offers to do it, I let him. I didn’t like putting ornaments back in their original boxes so last year I threw out all the boxes and wrapped the ornaments in tissue. I love hosting Christmas Day but I don’t enjoy cooking or spending the day in the kitchen so I keep the menu easy, and foods that can be served at room temperature. It’s all about finding what works and what doesn’t. Above all, I want to spend a peaceful day with my family. I enjoy giving them gifts. I enjoy our traditions. I enjoy having my siblings spend the day with their families in my home. Christmas isn’t too commercial for me at all. I’m no longer afraid to cut back or eliminate some of the gift giving in favor of time spent together, but I’m also not afraid to admit I love to watch someone’s face light up when you’ve given them a gift they love. My husband and I are a great team in making Christmas come together, making Christmas magic, and way beyond a commercial Christmas, we are creating memories and a sense of family. There is nothing more important to me.

Merry Christmas!

Monday Motivation..Sparkle and Spontaneity!

I happen to love Monday. I know it’s not everyone’s favorite day but for me it signifies not just a new week, but a fresh start, and I like beginnings rather than endings. We all need some motivation from time to time, myself included, to look for the good in each day, but in particular Monday. I try to give that some thought on a Sunday night, to count my blessings, put things in perspective and look forward to what the days ahead bring.

We are breezing through December, Christmas and the New Year will be here before we know it. Much like dreading a Monday, I know many dread this time of year for a multitude of reasons. Like my love of Mondays, I love the holiday season. No, it hasn’t always been easy, but I choose to look for the magic, as well as create it. I will say this time of year seems to escalate the issues we struggle with throughout the year, financial problems, relationship issues, family dynamics, overburdened to-do lists. Depression and isolation seem to be magnified, and our health and diets often get off track, which actually can affect our moods. Still I seek out the joy, look for the magic and now, now I am putting on the sparkle!

A few days ago I was part of a small group text from my new friend Jackie asking if anyone was free for a last minute lunch. I was out running errands and then heading into my office for a few hours and my inclination was to say no, no I can’t make it. I’ve probably been in Jackie’s company a handful of times and I thought, maybe the other two friends will respond, one being a childhood friend, as she wouldn’t want to be stuck alone at lunch with me anyway. But I responded. I was the first to respond and I said yes, yes I’d like to meet for lunch after my errands and a few hours in the office. We made a plan and shortly after our mutual friend Sue responded that while she couldn’t eat because she would be coming from a dentist appointment, she’d like to join us as well. Because of my schedule and Sue not being able to eat, Jackie said we could have lunch another time. I told her I’d be there, no need to change the plan.

In the moments I was deciding how to respond to Jackie’s invite I struggled with my to-do list and also with my commitment to myself to get back to being spontaneous, and to making time for the things that are important to me. People are important to me, accepting invitations is important to me. Truth be told, I don’t know Jackie well enough to toss away my to-do list commitments, but I know her just enough to keep the commitment to myself about making time for things that are truly important to me, and she was presenting that opportunity to me. I have a thing about invitations and the importance they hold. I think when someone includes you, thinks to invite you to something, I think it’s important you do your best to accept the invitation. There is that fine line between being overloaded with commitments and running yourself ragged trying to please everyone, and cutting back and claiming your time for your mental and physical health. Sometimes we have to say no, but sometimes we should be saying yes. So I look at it this way…if someone invites you to something and you decline because you assume your presence will not be missed and everyone else will accept the invite, well imagine if everyone felt that way…no one would show up! Maybe that’s my fear, having a party that no one shows up to, but I also know when I invite you to something, I really want you there, you aren’t just a seat filler!

Anyway, I felt it was the right thing to do, to accept Jackie’s invitation to lunch, even if I was the only one who could make it, and even when she suggested changing it to a more convenient day. There was something that told me to go, that it wasn’t about being convenient, that it was a test for me to see what my priorities are. I talk a lot about filling your life with the things that matter to you, spending less time giving energy to the things that don’t, and making time for people. I sensed that I needed to give my new friend my time. Now something I know about Jackie is that she likes sparkle, she likes bling. I knew she would show up to lunch in something festive and I totally planned to make time to run home and kick it up a notch in the outfit department before I met for lunch. I spent more time at the office than I had planned and texted Jackie that I’d put on some red lipstick if I had it in my purse, as did our friend Sue, but neither of us were bringing the sparkle! Jackie brought the sparkle, Jackie is sparkle in a box. She arrived in a Christmas sweater and presented Sue and I each with a Christmas pin, pin’s that had been her mom’s. I can’t remember the last time I wore a pin, or brooch, but suddenly I felt more festive. Not being a great day drinker, I hesitated when the bartender came over but Jackie announced that yes, we were having a holiday cocktail with lunch. Next she pulled out Hershey’s kisses, lining them up for a photo op, then plopped them into our cocktails! There I am thinking… I’m still trying to get weight off, barely made it through Thanksgiving without a sugar rush and some added pounds, now I’m out to lunch, having a cocktail…and I’m going to worry about eating a candy kiss??! Let it go Joan, be in the moment and enjoy it!

We had a great time at lunch, laughed way too much…can you laugh too much? We cried a few tears. Jackie loves the bling, the sparkle, the props as she calls them. Sue explained Jackie brings props to everything, to kick it up a notch, to make things more festive. Her smile is big and infectious. But there is pain. I got to know Jackie a little better that day. Like the rest of us, Jackie has had tragedy and loss. But she looks for the good. She told me her mom didn’t have an easy life, but she loved to give and she loved to make the holidays special. She took the good from her mom, and that’s what Jackie sprinkles around, like fairy dust. She lives life large, turns the simplest lunch into an event, and like her mom she’s a giver. When our lunch was over, I went to give Jackie back her mom’s Christmas pin, assuming she was letting me borrow it to make my blah outfit a little more festive for the day, but she wanted me to keep it, she told me her mom would want me to have it.

For so many reasons I am glad I said yes to that lunch. I came home with so much more than that Christmas pin. Jackie reminded me life is to be lived, to be celebrated, whether it’s a holiday season, a dreaded Monday, an ordinary day. She reminded me acts of kindness need not be grand, they can be simple like handing someone a candy kiss. She reminded me you can be sad over the loss of a loved one, but that it’s okay to honor them by living a life of joy. She reminded me that not everything in your life has to be perfect to make a great life. I’ve been in a slump for quite some time, not myself, more reclusive, sad at times, feeling beat up if I speak out and beat up if I don’t. Suffered writers block and a loss of creativity over a fear of being judged. I lost a lot of my joy, my zest, felt the life being sucked out of me. I’ve felt a general sense of loss and a dark cloud looming overhead. And I felt all of that with a smile on my face. Getting to know a little of Jackie’s story, I felt a connection. Like me, she’s a smiler. Like all of us, she has pain behind that smile. But she truly does sparkle, it’s her mission to spread joy. Maybe that is how she heals. I know spending time with her helped me. I hope spending time with me helped her. Maybe that’s why that lunch was meant to be, to fall into place. Maybe that’s why I felt the push to say yes, to be gracious and accept an invitation. Maybe she needed to fill some empty hours and maybe I needed to fill some hours with something other than emptiness.

Sunday I received another last minute invite from my friend Cheryl. I told her I needed time to change. I rushed to my closet to shop all the “special occasion” clothes that I bought and never wore. I was looking for bling, for sparkle. I was looking for an outfit that would say, I’m celebrating life. Poor Cheryl thought I was going to come out of the house looking like Mimi from The Drew Carey Show, but I think I pulled off a subtle version of sparkle. When I came home from brunch, I spent a little time going through some old jewelry and came across my mom’s Christmas tree pin. It’s missing a “jewel” but I am going to start wearing it this Christmas season, along with the one gifted to me by Jackie. I hope our mom’s are up in heaven smiling about the sparkle they sprinkled upon us.

It’s Monday, it’s just a few weeks before Christmas…get out there and live it up today! Celebrate! And don’t forget to wear some sparkle!

Learning To Appreciate The Little Things, The Dollar Store Version

Today I had a moment, okay a few moments, of tears while shopping in a store and again while walking my dogs. I had an appointment canceled that happened to be not too far from my local Home Goods/Marshalls and a friend called to say she was on her way there. Perfect timing so I decided to meet her there. Usually any time spent with her turns into an adventure of some sort with laughs and giggles but not today. Today she told me I wasn’t fun so she was going to checkout with her stuff and head home. Yes, she can be blunt and I’m used to it and I’ve learned it’s never ill intentioned, it’s just her way and honestly, part of what I like about her. Truth be told, I wasn’t fun. I was cranky over some things and not in a good way over a host of other things. Generally I snap out of a bad mood fairly quickly but I feel as if I’m living under a storm cloud of late, well, for about a year. I know I’m not myself. Anyway, I did rebound while we were on the checkout line when I came across the cutest thing for my soon to be born grandchild. Yes, I am going to be a grandmother! Talk about a mood booster! But my giddiness was too little too late for my friend. After our quick shopping trip, she went home. No more shopping, no “let’s grab a quick drink.” With a wink she let me know everything was fine, she was kidding about me not being fun, she just had to go get her dog out of doggie daycare.

I was so happy with my little find from the checkout line for my future grandchild that it put me in a great mood. The weather was dark and windy with a slight chill and I was overcome with a feeling of holiday spirit. I know, it’s not even Halloween but suddenly I was thinking Christmas! I got a little pep in my step and a big smile and decided to do a little more shopping in some other stores. And then back on the roller coaster of emotions I went.

Being a parent is a lifelong journey, no matter how old your kids get. Sometimes we need to get out of the thick of it, the chaos, before we realize what it was like for our own parents, and to appreciate them, to realize what we put them through at various stages of our lives, and to realize they did their best. I’ve shared before I didn’t have the greatest relationship with my mother and I learned to appreciate her as a mom much too late. Today I was overcome with emotion when I had this strange feeling of bonding with her as a grandmother. My mom will be gone 3 years by the time I become a grandmother in March and I got very choked up that while I didn’t always understand her as a mom, I totally understand her as a grandmother, as of today.

I was shopping for a few things to put together in a little Halloween gift basket for my daughter, away at college. I didn’t want those “things” to be cheesy or cutesy or “cheap.” My gift basket was going to be useful, purposeful, and with a beautiful presentation. But I started to look around the store and pictured myself as a grandmother with my future grandchild and wondered what I would buy for them…what would I fill a little Halloween basket with for baby/toddler/5 year old Baby McD? What would I buy for Baby McD to mark little occasions and holidays and to make ordinary days special? My mom did that. She was big on gift gifting and always tried to make it special for the kids. But often what she gave was “cheap” in my eyes, things my kids wouldn’t want or need…so I thought. I’m embarrassed to admit I thought that way. My mom had 10 grandchildren, 3 great grandchildren, 3 children and their spouses, significant others of her grandchildren and a spouse of her granddaughter. Did I really think she was going to gift each one of us with something expensive? And she did. Over the years she gifted us with beautiful and generous expressions of her love. But for my mom, more was more, and the more the better. In order to give us more, some of it was tchotchkes. Over the years my siblings and I spoke with her, to no avail, about cutting back and giving less. We suggested she give one nice gift or maybe a group gift. She wasn’t having any of that and at some point we had to accept that it was her way to give too many gifts. Whatever the reason, it was how she did things and it made her happy.

So there I was, standing in the store, all choked up with tears running down my face. Still just a grandmother-to-be, I felt very much like a grandmother and I felt a very strong bond with my mom. I missed her, terribly. I looked around at stuff that my snobby self wouldn’t buy and I thought, mom would buy that, she’d buy 10 of them, and she’d buy 20 of those, and 15 of those useless things over there. She’d be filling up this cart with cheap, useless stuff and then she’d wrap it up pretty and make it look nice. I sort of wanted to grab a few things, but I didn’t. That was my mom’s way, it doesn’t have to be mine, but I finally understood the joy it brought her to shop for her grandchildren. It brings you back to a simpler time when your own kids were little, it brings back memories.

I pulled myself together and actually left the store empty handed (sorry Erin, my daughter) and walked to the car crying. There was a lot in those tears…guilt, happy memories, sadness that there will be no more memories made with my mom, sadness that my mom isn’t here to meet my 1st grandchild, laughs at how much I really disliked some of the tchotchkes and tears for how much I miss getting them now. I felt a warmth surrounding me, I felt a sentimental tug at my heart for how special my mom made the holidays. I cried later while walking the dogs and there are tears streaming down my face now as I type this.

I didn’t always appreciate the gifts my mom gave and I feel terrible about that. She gave what she could afford to give, but more importantly she gave what she wanted to give. In a day of gift registries and specific requests, I wish we could get back to being grateful for what we are given. I’m reminded of my son Ryan, the soon to be father, and the Christmas he said to me, “mom, Santa brings me everything I asked him for and things I didn’t ask for or even know I wanted, and those things ended up being my favorite.” There is a joy in graciously accepting and loving what someone else chooses to give us, something they picked for us, that we didn’t ask for or want but they felt we should have.

Another funny story that came to mind today while I was on my emotional roller coaster. Many years ago I met this woman at a party. I believe she had 10 kids and a few are around my age. I thought she looked amazing and couldn’t believe her age or the number of kids she had. She was the life of the party. Everyone at the party seemed to know her and called her “Mommy.” I started to see her out other places and I too called her Mommy. One night I had a conversation with her daughter and son in law about the holidays. They said it was mandatory that everyone spend Christmas at Mommy’s. I said it sounded like chaotic fun. The son in law said Mommy had a gift for everyone, kids, spouses, grandchildren. He rolled his eyes and said most of the things came from The Dollar Store and I laughed back sharing that my mom too was big on the cheap gifts. So I guess the thing is, it brought joy to our parents to have a gift for everyone. Truthfully I can’t remember the cheap gifts from the expensive gifts but I do remember that we all were together for every holiday, that my mom was in her element cooking everyone’s favorite things and that she had her homemade toy bags filled with gifts for all of her grandchildren.

So, something little I saw on the checkout line at Marshall’s ended up lifting my spirits, sent me into a rollercoaster of emotions with good and bad tears, and connected me to my mom. I saw her in a different way. When you become a grandparent, I guess it takes you back, it sort of erases the bad things you did as a parent, and it floods you with emotions over the things you did right, and it gives you a chance to recreate those good memories. I stood in the store all weepy over past Halloweens with my kids, pushing a stroller through the crunchy leaves trying to catch up with the older ones who were running from house to house. In the moment, all those years ago it seemed stressful to get 5 kids into costumes after school to get out trick or treating. But now I prefer to remember the sounds, the smells, the fun. I know it’s early to see the stores decorated for Christmas, but I stood there among the decorations and remembered the magic of Christmas mornings. So I get it now, I get it that we all struggle as parents, but when you become a grandparent you have a chance to get it right. You figure out what wasn’t so important after all, and what really was, and your job is just to spread joy, to make things fun, to celebrate holidays and special occasions and ordinary days. You bring a different perspective to the table as a grandparent. My mother’s intention was never to clutter my house with “useless crap” or things that didn’t match my decor, it wasn’t to go against my wishes, or to control me. My moms intentions were born out of love and joy and wanting to spread that, in her way, not mine. Too often we are so worried about ourselves and our feelings that we incorrectly place an intention on other people’s words and actions. We hear something that wasn’t said, we presume something was done that wasn’t. And that requires a little looking inside ourselves, it requires a pause before we become reactionary and accusatory. Just take a little time to see the intention. I like to believe people are not ill-intentioned, it’s our own issues that cause us to see it that way.

A lot of lessons learned in my little shopping trip, and I will throw in one final one. We hear the word selfish being thrown around frequently today. I would like to give a little more time to being gracious. Yes, it was very frustrating for me when my mom gave my kids too many gifts, too many things I didn’t want. Yes my brother and sister and I complained to her, yes we tried to get her to stop. But we all taught our kids to be gracious, we all taught our kids to show their excitement over receiving the same Jets pens and pencils every year, we all taught our kids to appreciate their grandmother even while behind the scenes maybe we weren’t when it came to the gift giving. Learn to be gracious. If the joy is in giving, then learn to be a good recipient. Learn to see things from another person’s perspective.

So if my son and daughter in law happen to stumble upon this, I promise I won’t fill your home with “trash and trinkets” as my husband calls it. But I will be doing things to create memories, to celebrate occasions big and small. There will be walks in the fall to collect leaves and trips to go pumpkin picking. There will be sandy feet after a day at the beach and walks to get ice cream. There will be magic at Christmas. There may at times be “stuff” that doesn’t seem important and I’m willing to keep that at my house if you don’t want it in your house. There will be stuff that Santa brings that wasn’t asked for, because in Ryan’s own words, “Santa brought stuff I didn’t even know I wanted and those were my favorite things.” There will be spoiling with activities and gifts that will be unique to me, that will give your kids something to talk about and laugh about when I’m gone. My intention will always be born out of love and a desire to create memories and to leave you all with a warm hug on the days I’m not there. And other than cards that no one likes anymore, I will do my best to stay out of The Dollar Store.

My Journey to Good Health

As with most things in my life, I feel like I’m late to the party yet again. But I’ve arrived and intend to stay at this party a long time. This party is my life, my healthy life. Aging and watching others age in front of your eyes has a way of waking you up, but I’ve always been one to rise a little slowly. To begin, I’ve started to feel that I need to make disclaimers when I write, or speak. #1. This will be LONG. #2. I am neither a medical professional nor a scientist. I am not a nutritionist nor am I a fitness expert. #3. I have great respect for the medical community. That being said, what I share are my opinions, my observations which are born from my life experiences, my research. My opinions are no more or less valuable than yours, but they are mine and therefore I would like to share them along with my journey to better health.

So who am I? I am a 57 year old woman who struggles with weight. I grew up as a skinny little girl who ate junk, and it caught up with me. My dad made us eat well and my mom didn’t. When Dad packed our school lunches we came downstairs to a crumbled up brown paper bag and the dreaded apple and banana was in there as snack. When Mom packed lunch the bag was neatly folded and inside was candy and a three pack of very large Yankee Doodle cakes. Dad made us eat Wheaties for breakfast and always two to three different vegetables with dinner as well as potatoes, because potatoes were a good source of potassium. Dad ate a handful of raw almonds everyday. Although every Sunday after church was followed up with a trip to the supermarket to buy cold cuts, he limited the amount of lunch meat we ate because of the nitrates. He limited the amount of meat he ate and I can recall a number of times he turned down dinner invitations at my house if I was serving meat, because he already had meat for lunch that day. Dad had a book by Edgar Cayce, the father of holistic medicine. Now if you ever met my father, he wasn’t exactly giving off the follower of holistic medicine vibe. But for whatever reason, this was Dad’s way. I also remember Dad’s parents had Prevention magazines piled up around their house. I have always loved books and magazines and when visiting with my grandparents, I spent many hours scouring through those magazines. They were fascinating to me. I remember at one point my grandmother developed arthritis in her knee and my dad had her rubbing peanut oil on her knee to ease the pain. I can’t remember if that remedy came from Prevention Magazine or the Edgar Cayce book. What I do remember in the book was the recommendation that humans not drink cows milk. The book stated that we were the only species drinking milk from another mammal. It made so much sense to me and I was totally on board with this theory for about a full two days. It was the early 1980’s and I knew nothing about alternative milk sources. Plus I enjoyed a good milk shake too much to give up milk! And now, I haven’t had milk in years and limit my dairy.

My dad led a healthy lifestyle, subtle as it was. My mom struggled with weight, as did her mom and her sister. My younger self thought it was just entirely genetics, but, wouldn’t happen to me. I watched my mom cook dinner for the family, and eat something entirely different for herself. I watched her drink a lot of soda and eat potato chips. My mom tried various diets and one or two worked and better than her being thin, she actually seemed happy, had less mood swings, was nicer. All of this, my parents relationship with food and health, slowly shaped who I am, while I was busy not paying attention. I went on to marry and raise my own family and made mistakes along the way in the way I fed my 5 children. We ate fast food, often a lot of it. We ate a lot of pasta because it was quick and cheap. We had snacks in the house that I now shudder to even think about. Two of my 5 kids struggled with weight. They were active and athletes so I thought they’d be fine. Another regret for me, another embarrassment for me that as their mother I didn’t serve them better, didn’t properly nourish them. I am proud of each of my children that they all make healthy choices for themselves now, that we all work together to eat healthier, to exercise. In spite of me not giving them the best start, they put in the work, they made the changes to a healthier lifestyle. Our meals together have changed completely from unhealthy comfort foods to nutritious foods that fuel us. While it’s difficult for me to give up some of the classics, our holiday meals have gone from calorie and carb laden foods to lean proteins and vegetables. I’m always learning.

So back to me. As I stated, I have a tremendous amount of respect for doctors and nurses, in fact a doctor probably saved my life when I ignored symptoms my body was giving me and nearly hemorrhaged to death. The next few paragraphs will most likely consist of all the “but’s……” I respect the medical profession, but… So last year I ended up at the doctor after walking around with a tick in my back for several weeks. To my surprise I found out I had high blood pressure, hypertension. It was bad. I wasn’t sure if it was the new job I had just started, the lack of exercise and motivation that came with the new Covid lockdown, or the fact that I was home eating salty take out food several times a day in order to support our local restaurants. Not being someone who really ate lunch, suddenly we had a full house of grown kids back home again and they wanted lunch. We were ordering out lunch, and often ordering take out for dinner as well. I blamed the high blood pressure on the increased sodium and calories. Thank goodness my son started to cook for us and got us back on track. The doctor wrote me a script for high blood pressure medication. I asked her what I could do to get off the meds, before I even started on them. I asked if I could loose weight, exercise more, meditate? Her answer? She told me not likely, she told me I could be on the meds the rest of my life, but I could try those things and see what happened. She told me I needed to come back in 3 months but to get a blood test first to determine if I had any liver damage because the pills could cause liver damage. Whoa! So basically take these pills for this, but they’ll give you that. I was horrified, mad, scared, angry, and determined to prove her wrong and loose the weight and get myself in shape and get myself off of the meds. The next step after that appointment was the cardiologist, she wanted me to see a cardiologist because she saw something in my EKG. So a few weeks later there I am at a cardiologist who basically told me the same thing she did, to stay on the meds and we’d go from there, and to come back for a stress test. A few weeks later I was stressed for my stressed test. Apparently the cardiologist office is on my weekly route to Marshall’s/Home Goods and I was in a fog and kept driving right past the office as if I was going to Home Goods. I was almost there when I realized I actually had a doctor appointment, not another shopping trip at Marshall’s, and had to turn around. Running late for the appointment, I decided to share my silly story with the front desk as I apologized for being late. No one seemed to notice I was late, as they were all eating enormous sandwiches at their desks behind the glass counter. Never being a great athlete or runner, a few minutes later I was on a treadmill that was quickly getting faster while on an incline and I was feeling sick, I just wanted to get off of that thing. The technician told me to hang in, I could do it, it was almost over…the very overweight technician sitting in a chair while I was about to pass out. Everyone in the office that day was lovely, very kind to me but I’m going to be totally honest here…I thought to myself as I looked around at some of the overweight staff, “I’m the one with the heart problem?” I made a mental note of this situation, the irony…but I still didn’t loose the weight I needed to loose.

Fast forward, months went by. I committed to an exercise program, really watched what I was eating but the weight wasn’t really melting away like I had hoped. Another check up at the doctor showed that the meds were helping my blood pressure, it was down considerably and the doctor renewed the prescription. That is when it hit me…I was becoming my mother. My mom passed away two years ago at the age of 81, with a number of cancers, diabetes, high blood pressure and dementia. Years ago when she was “healthy” (in her mind) I would ask her how she was doing with keeping her blood pressure and diabetes in check. She would tell me she was doing great, the doctor told her all her numbers were good. Yet I would visit her and she was drinking soda, eating potato chips and she thought that was okay because all the meds were working. So in my mom’s mind, she was doing great because the meds were keeping her that way. When she was first diagnosed with adult onset diabetes she was scared. She stopped smoking cold turkey. She ate the way she was supposed to. She was afraid of finger pricks and insulin. She lost weight and looked great. Slowly the weight crept back on and she made peace with the things she feared the most, the finger pricks and insulin injections. She maintained that peace for a good 20 years until she died. She loved food more than she feared diabetes. I do not want to be my mother.

Have you ever had a doctor ask you what you eat? A detailed list? When you are a new patient and filling out the forms, after you check off whether or not you smoke and drink and if so how often, is there a question or room to write out what your daily diet consists of? I have had ONE doctor in my entire life ask me what I ate. He was my OB/GYN when I was pregnant the 1st time (well, 2nd time after I miscarried twins). I was thinner at my heaviest weight in that pregnancy than I am now. I gained 21 pounds, but I gained 10 of that in one month. My doctor was alarmed by my sudden weight gain and asked me what I was eating, and he also announced in front of the entire waiting room that I needed to make an appointment with the nutritionist in his office. I told him about my cravings, Orangina and Kraft mac and cheese. I craved that powdery “cheese”. He told me to use half the butter, half the “cheese” packet. He told me to buy orange juice and club soda and make my own Orangina, keeping the juice to less than half. He helped me through the cravings and kept my weight for myself and my baby at a safe level. This was a doctor who cared. Unfortunately he retired the day after he delivered my 2nd child. I did not have the same good experience with the doctor who delivered my next 3 children, although she would frequently have me see a midwife in her office who was very helpful and more inline with the level of care I was used to.

After I gave birth to my 1st son I felt like my life was consumed with doctor visits. My dad asked me what was wrong with my son, as I was taking him to the doctor every 2 weeks, then every month. He told me taking a baby to a doctor’s office is the worst thing I could do for his health, he’d end up sick and catching germs there. I was a new mom in 1991 and I was doing what the pediatrician told me to do. Until I didn’t. Surprising for a 1st time mom, I didn’t always do what I was told to do, I followed my gut, as uneducated as it was. I remember giving my son milk long before I was supposed to. He stopped nursing and didn’t like formula, bit the nipples off bottles, so one day I put milk in a sippy cup and that was that. At the next visit I felt like I had “bad mommy” written across my forehead and must have turned 4 shades of red when the doctor asked me how the formula was going and I lied and said, “great, he loves it!” I also was never good with the meds when the kids had coughs or ear aches. I’d give the meds until they felt better, but against doctors orders I never finished the bottle, saving some for an emergency the next time. Often I opted for some warm olive oil in a dropper when they had ear aches. Thankfully for all, they were mostly healthy kids but I dreaded taking them to the doctor. Between well checks and sick visits for 5 kids from birth until about 18 or so, I shudder to think about how much time I spent in a doctor’s office, mostly sitting in a waiting room. Which probably explains why I don’t go to the doctor myself.

So back to my latest doctor visits. I have weight to loose. I have high blood pressure. Why didn’t anyone ask me what I eat? Why didn’t anyone suggest I meet with a nutritionist? Why didn’t they ask what I do for exercise, if anything? Why didn’t they ask if I meditate and suggest some phone apps that would make it easy for me to do? Why didn’t they ask about my mental health, what stresses me? When I agreed to take the pill as an immediate fix to a potentially dangerous medical condition and asked if diet and exercise would get me off them long term, why was the answer no, no that may not help? When I told my doctor my mom’s ultimate cause of death was colon cancer, when she correctly advised me to have a colonoscopy, why didn’t she ask me about my fiber intake and offer a dietary plan? In my humble opinion, this is what is wrong with our medical system…it is treatment based and not preventative based. The system is totally backwards, upside down. What if every general practitioners office had a nutritionist, a fitness expert and a psychologist on staff and you met with them first? Well what would happen is you’d need the general practitioner less and less. If we are what we eat, why isn’t what we are eating the very first discussion you have with a doctor?

So now that I have arrived at this party, as late as I am, I’m here and I’m asking questions. I can no longer trick myself into thinking that a vaccine and pills will make me a healthy person while I continue to eat, and overeat bad foods, avoid exercise, and put myself into stressful situations. My journey is in prevention, to have my body prepped to fight off whatever comes at it, bad genes, environmental ills, cancer, diseases, viruses, stress. I’ve turned my focus to following social media accounts of athletes, nutritionists, fitness experts. I research info in and outside of google. I am determined to show my doctor who wants to treat me with meds the rest of my life that will kill my liver, that I can get off the meds through diet, exercise and meditation. I’m learning about macros now inspite of the fact that my son annoyed me for years with his need to eat every few hours, weighing his food, pulling cans and wrappers out of the garbage so he could scan them into his macro app, and eating all the chicken that was meant to feed a family of 7. I’m learning the importance of drinking water, the best thing I can do for my body, yet for me the hardest. I’ve given up cream in my coffee and learned to enjoy the actual coffee. I’ve learned the evils of sugar and how it’s in everything and we are addicted to it. Although I don’t eat meat, I’ve learned just what “grass fed beef” really means, and what it doesn’t, and you may be surprised about that one. I’ve learned what organic really means and GMO’s and I’ve educated myself about Big Pharma. I don’t want to be a part of that. My dad always said the body could heal itself with what we have in nature. I’ve never been one to take over the counter medications at the drop of a hat and I certainly don’t want to live a life on prescription drugs. We aren’t being served well in how we are taught to eat, but I’m learning.

Some new buzz words and phrases I am learning are to “choose your why” and to “choose your hard.” Back in the day when I didn’t appreciate how thin I was, I wanted to loose weight to fit into a certain dress or to look good to attend a reunion or a wedding. I could drink Slim Fast for a few days and loose weight for the weekend. More recently I wanted to loose weight for my son’s wedding. But now, “why” do I want to loose weight? For my health. Weight loss no longer means being skinny or fitting into a certain dress. I’ve known skinny people that lived on diet coke and cigarettes, but they aren’t healthy. My “why” is I want to be healthy, mind, body, and soul. I want to enjoy life, keep my mind and body active. I no longer want to loose weight for a short term goal, I want to loose weight for my long term health, physical and mental. My why is because I don’t want to have the health issues that my mom had as a result of not taking care of her body. My why is because I want to give myself a fighting chance against Alzheimer’s that so many of my relatives suddenly have. My why is because I don’t want to take medications, over the counter or prescribed. My why is because I’ve always listened to my father, just not in a timely manner. My why is because I want to see my children become spouses and parents and I want to be a grandmother. So each morning when I wake up I need to be in the right mindset and be prepared to choose my hard. Is it harder to go hiking uphill or harder to not eat the piece of chocolate cake? Is it harder to walk around the pool on vacation in a bathing suit feeling awkward and overweight, or is it harder to pass up the nachos when out with friends having apps. It’s hard not to eat the foods I love, but it’s harder to suffer the consequences of being overweight.

My health and fitness journey is about following my gut and my gut is leading me away from “doctor’s orders” and more towards following what physically and mentally fit people are doing which focuses on nutrition. I’ve always followed my gut, gone against the grain, the norms, quietly questioned things. I take the information people give me and quietly do what I want with it, which more often than not was to ignore it. When I had my first son I needed help in getting him to sleep through the night. I had my first baby shortly after my older sister had her last. She was full of advice. She had me join mother’s groups, she gave me books and magazines to read. I politely listened to her and others, smiled and shook my head in agreement, then went home and raised my child how I wanted to. The way I got my son to sleep through the night…I put him in bed with my husband and I. And guess what, there are books about that too…and expert pediatricians who actually recommend it. So you see, for whatever expert opinion there is an certain area, there is always an opposing expert opinion and what it boils down to is that you are mostly likely to follow the research and opinion of the expert who agrees with your gut feeling. It’s all about the gut and hence I am trying to get the gut healthy. And for me, that is taking me away from our current medical system that is more treatment based over preventative through nature and nutrition. I’m learning about macros and eating a balanced diet. I’m reading ingredients in my food, as well as in my cleaning products. I read about what I’m washing my hair with and what makeup I’m wearing. I haven’t bought water bottles in years and choose glass over plastic. I’m trying to store my leftovers in glass as well. I rarely used a microwave to begin with, mostly to melt cheese or make popcorn, but I don’t eat much of that these days. It’s fighting a battle for sure, but I try to limit my time with electronics. Some day when I retire, I may not open a laptop for days. I’m limiting my time on the phone. I have assigned each of my kids their own text and ring tones and there are time periods that unless I hear something from one of them, I don’t look at the phone. I also have moved the phone further away from me when I sleep at night. I limit my time on electronics before I go to bed. In the morning I quickly check to see that none of my kids needed me overnight and then I spend an hour with my phone out of mind and out of sight ( I put it in a drawer so I’m not tempted to peek at it) and I spend time outside. No phone before 8 am and before time spent in nature. I don’t use airbuds as they are close to your brain and do emit EMF’s. For now I will stick to my plug in headphones or put you on speakerphone. Although I have my phone on me to track my steps, my 10,000 a day goal, I carry my phone on my body much less than I used to. I try to spend time meditating. I’m not great about it, but spending quiet time in my garden with coffee in the morning before I look at my phone qualifies for me as meditation. I try to watch the habits of healthy people. I spend time thinking about the differences in my lifestyle versus my grandmother’s lifestyle. As I’ve stated, my mom’s mom died young and didn’t take care of herself. My dad’s mom died at 87 and led a healthy, vibrant life with no signs of memory loss. Granny lived alone after her husband died at 84. She never drove. Walked every where. She was an Irish meat and potatoes woman who enjoyed an occasional beer. I can’t say that her way of eating was healthy, so I can’t help but wonder if the quality of the food was different, and better. Granny died from esophageal cancer. She knew something was wrong in her throat. She couldn’t swallow, choked a few times so stopped eating. She would tell her doctors something wasn’t right, but they told her she couldn’t swallow properly because she was hunched over from her osteoporosis. On her 87th birthday she choked and ended up in the hospital and died a few weeks later after they discovered a tumor in her throat the size of a small banana. Granny was right, something was wrong. Doctors didn’t listen. Follow your gut, be your own advocate. If your doctor doesn’t listen, find a new one. Unfortunately our “health care” system ( I find irony in those words) doesn’t always allow for that.

I spend a lot of time thinking about why my dad’s parents didn’t show any signs of dementia, yet 3 of their children, my uncle and aunts have it. My dad unfortunately died at the age of 59 at the hands of a doctor after surgery for a brain aneurysm so I will never know if his healthy lifestyle would have spared him from it. My mom had it, her sister now has it. I feel doomed. What is it…is it our food, our lifestyles, our environment? My dad also told me never to use aluminum cooking pans, and so I didn’t. My dad has been gone 23 years and he was telling me these things long before his untimely death. Should we not have been drinking soda from aluminum cans, using aluminum foil? Why do “they” put it in vaccines? How do we prevent this awful disease that I see as my fate?

So now we get to the elephant in the room. We had/have/will have again a pandemic. What is your plan for that? Do you think you can get a vaccine and then smoke cigarettes and eat dorittos and ward off the virus? I remember standing on line to get into the food store last year, in my required mask. The man in front of me was taking his mask down to smoke his cigarette and blow the smoke at me. But I was safe, right? I had to throw the mask out because I was about to vomit from the smell that settled in it. The last lockdown did me in. I wrote about it last year and how I was actually enjoying my family time. But then it went sour. I got depressed. I overate and drank too much, and weight and alcohol are depressants so I became depressed and because I was depressed I over ate and drank too much. It’s a cycle that’s hard to break. Because I couldn’t go anywhere I turned to social media to connect with people, but no one needs to be reminded it was an election year and people were ugly, just brutal. A place to be social became a very unhealthy war zone. There was very little to look forward to, very little joy. After the holidays I decided to get my ass in gear. This was not how I wanted to live and I made some mental changes. Limiting social media was at the top of the list but the peace it brought me was two fold, I was no longer involved in drama, and I gained time back in my life that I was wasting on the damn phone scrolling. That time I gained back came with a peacefulness and brought back some joy. I was no longer dependent on the phone, reading emails, scrolling through social media, texting. That time I gave back to myself gave me the freedom and space to think what I really wanted to be doing with my time and how I was going to get myself mentally and physically back together. In March I ended up testing positive for covid after an excruciating week at work and thinking I was run down. I was one of the lucky 99% who survived it and when I had no energy and laid around in bed for a week I asked myself what I could do to better prepare my body to ward off illness and disease, as well as a virus. The truth is, very healthy people got the virus and it was there otherwise healthy immune system that got them through it. I asked myself if I wanted to continue over eating and avoiding exercise? Did I want to put myself at risk for cancers and viruses? I started to do the research.

The research led me to nutrition and exercise. On social media I found a 75 year old woman who started exercising at age 70 and was able to get off of all her medications with the help of her daughter, a fitness coach who is 50 years old. I found another woman who was basically given a death sentence regarding her health in her 40’s. In less than a years time she totally transformed her body while raising an autistic son as a single mom and being the CEO of two companies. She stopped making excuses. And each click I made to these social media accounts led to others and then it all came together for me. My dad’s words and lifestyle choices came back to me, that Edgar Cayce book made sense to me again, all the time I spent reading my grandparent’s Prevention magazines came back to me. My dad’s cousin Mary, 20 years older me, and her constant advice about what herbal pills to take to get me through this or that made sense. My oldest son’s obsession with scanning and weighing all his food made sense to me and seeing how he transformed his younger brothers and friends made sense to me. Talk about being “woke!” I had the tools all along to help myself, but I ignored them until I could ignore them no more. Now let’s be honest, I’m still sitting over here eating pizza and having cocktails. I still wake up every morning and say I should go down to the basement and use all the options the Peloton has to over, while I lay in bed thinking about it. I still forget I want to eliminate sugar and take a bite of dessert or grab a chip and cover it in dip. But I’m more aware, taking baby steps with some things and giant leaps with others. I’m mindful of my why and choosing my hards all throughout the day.

So while it’s the middle of summer and I’m in no rush for my favorite season to come to an end, before we know it cold and flu season will be here, and of course there is always talk of the pandemic. What is the medical community doing to prepare us? Medical students go through a tremendous amount of training and education, expense, and stress to be doctors. They have a calling and a desire to serve others. Why aren’t they being served well and given the proper tools to better serve their patients? So much is wrong with our medical system and I’m certainly not the one to solve it. But I can begin to solve it for myself. I can take things into my own hands and do the research, do the work, be aware and question, question, question…everything. It’s a rabbit hole I may not want to go down. It’s a lot of information and research on everything I put in my mouth and on my body and where I spend my time and what products I spend time around. Another bit of wisdom from my dad. He used to say while energy efficient, air tight homes were great for our utility bills, they weren’t good for our bodies. We live among toxins, in everything. So in my house even while the air conditioning or the heat is on, you will find open windows. I get out into fresh air every day, even in the cold which I hate. On rainy days sometimes it takes a cute pair of rainboots and a bright raincoat to convince me to get outside…whatever it takes. Get your fresh air, move your body, and read labels.

So here it is, out in print for others to see, so I must hold myself accountable in my journey to health. While we are surrounded by news of viruses, pandemics, vaccines maybe there has never been a better time for each of us to examine our health and what that really means. Are those bags of veggie sticks any better for us than good old potato chips? Are sports drinks really healthy for us? Are fat free cookies truly a better alternative? I don’t eat meat or chicken, but that doesn’t mean an Impossible Burger is good for me. I’ll bring one along to a barbeque, but it isn’t something truly healthy. If living through a worldwide pandemic isn’t a wake up call to start asking questions and doing the research on health and nutrition, I don’t know when we all expect it to be a better time to wake up. How about the commercials for various medications and the mile long disclaimers? We treat this but cause that. I sat next to a very lovely woman recently who developed a skin rash all over her body after her 2nd vaccination. She is okay with it because she started taking antihistamines…at the advise of her husband, a doctor. I know people allergic to cats who have cats but manage it buy taking a pill every day to ward off their allergy. Do we really want to be putting pills into our bodies everyday for the rest of our lives? Everyone needs to follow their own journey, this is mine. It is just my belief that we can do better. The tools are there, we just need to use them. I’m learning, I’m trying, some bad habits I have broken, others I admittedly hold onto. Again, some things are baby steps, some are giant leaps. But I’m going in eyes wide open. I hope you will join me. There are some amazing advocates for our collective better health out there, doctors, nurses, fitness coaches. Sometimes they are just hard to find if they don’t fall into the same boring, unhealthy narrative that we have been being fed. Only you can chose what you want to be fed. It starts with changing your mindset and opening your eyes and ears. Cheers to good health!

Summertime and the Living is Easy…Or Is It? My Outdoor Living Struggle

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! It’s the unofficial start of summer and I’ve been prepping for weeks, maybe months. I just love to be outside and enjoy starting my morning with coffee while I check my garden and listen to the birds chirp. For many years I sat on the front porch in my pajamas first thing in the morning while the rest of my family slept. I read the local newspaper from front to back before I came inside to start the rest of my day. Yes, I loved to read the actual newspaper and kept my subscription for the longest time. I love the smell and feel of books and paper and the idea that you started on the front page and when you got to the back page you were done. I don’t enjoy starting my day with electronics, as it’s so easy to get sucked in and click away for hours. It’s a rabbit hole I don’t want to go down first thing in the morning.

Somewhere along the way, its taken years and yet happened overnight…my backyard became sort of a paradise. My husband worked hard on building structures, pergolas and a covered bar, a firepit and our latest addition, a fireplace. I worked on the gardens, adding color and scents as well as bird houses and bird feeders. While not quite an early bird, (no pun intended) I do enjoy the peace and tranquility of morning and my routine sets the tone for the day and gives me some moments of peace. Each summer morning I grab my coffee and head outside to check the birdfeeders and see what flowers bloomed and I count my blessings, including that I have this beautiful yard. There are a number of seating areas to chose from to sit back and take in the heavenly scents of my roses and coffee. But… they are all wet!

This is my struggle…my love/hate relationship with outdoor furniture! It’s so much work, so much responsibility. And yet it feels so good! So let me tell you about my backyard paradise. We have a pool, for many years now…and it did not come with a pool boy as promised. As a mostly stay at home mom, I was always cleaning the pool, and sweeping the patio around it. With not a tree in our yard, for years we had a neighbor whose pine trees shed every single needle onto our patio, into our pool. Those trees are gone now, thank goodness, and now I have to wrestle with the leaves and acorns from oak trees, slightly less annoying. And although I still don’t really have a pool boy, ever since Covid, my husband has been maintaining the pool. “Back by the pool” as we say, as if we live on some expansive acreage instead of a 50×150 lot, we have a dining area, a living area, and a covered bar with a tv, ceiling fan, and a stainless steel kitchen. Again, counting my blessings while pinching myself. There was a time we just went “back to the pool” and spent very little time there on the somewhat empty patio. It just wasn’t that inviting, hence my husband turning it into a party paradise.

The French doors at the back of my house take you to another patio area with a hot tub, a firepit surrounded by adirondack chairs and now a fireplace with a seating area. So many places to sit…and all so wet from morning dew. I was sharing my dilemma with one of my cousins recently, wondering why our parents didn’t seem to have these issues, dragging cushions in and out, and she laughed at me, saying she was not awake early enough to catch morning dew and by the time she went outside, the sun had dried it all up. I have been thinking a lot lately about my childhood and some of it’s simplicity, at least from the way I chose to remember it. Growing up we had a wooden picnic table that sat in the grass, no deck, no patio. My dad moved it when he mowed the lawn, and put it back in a different spot so that it didn’t kill the grass. The picnic table is where we ate hamburgers and hotdogs in the summer, with corn on the cob. It’s where we spread newspapers and peeled shrimp. It wasn’t fancy but it did the job. When we had parties, out came the webbed folding lawn chairs. They hung on nails in our garage until an occasion came along that warranted them being taken out to the backyard. My dad always kept extra webbing on a shelf in the garage in case of emergencies…if someone sat and tore the webbing. I’m fairly certain it was just as inexpensive to buy a new chair as to repair one, but back then you fixed something instead of replacing it. When the party was over, the chairs got folded up and put back to hang on the nails in the garage. I remember one year we went to a local home improvement store, Rickel’s, and purchased a redwood “sofa” and chair set for the front porch. It came with orange, green and yellow floral cushions, some sort of wipeable plastic that wasn’t all that pleasant to sit on. But for our family, this was fancy. This was where my parents sat at night and watched me ride my bike up and down the street. When fall came, the furniture and cushions got put away in the garage for the season and came back out in the spring when my dad hosed down the ugly, plastic cushions, along with the screens for the windows.

Years went by, outdoor living became a little more popular, along came white resin tables and stackable chairs. The legs on those chairs used to break all the time, once while my husband was sitting in one, holding my son. There were white wicker settees and chair sets and if you didn’t want to deal with flaking paint and dry rot, you could by the same look in white resin. There was also wrought iron and for the wealthy, cedar or teak. Fast forward to the 21st century and your outdoor furniture can cost more than your indoor furniture! While the Fortunoff Backyard Stores have come and gone, you can spend hours scrolling on Wayfair for the perfect outdoor living furniture. But that’s not all…now we have outdoor rugs, outdoor pillows and yes, I have even purchased outdoor blankets…because if the firepit or fireplace isn’t enough to keep you warm, you might need an outdoor blanket that coordinates with the throw pillows and area rug!

About 9 years ago we moved back into our newly built home after a fire destroyed it the year before. I purchased an inexpensive sofa and chair set on clearance at our local Kmart for our front porch, my favorite outdoor spot. I also purchased 2 mismatched white wooden rocking chairs which have now seen better days. My husband reminds me of such when he tries to put them at the curb, and I promise to give them a fresh coat of paint. He took charge of the backyard furniture, trying to make that seldom used pool patio more appealing. Soon after, we had a sectional sofa with white cushions, yes white cushions, and a dining set with cushioned chairs. He ordered new cushions for an old sofa and chair set and next thing you know, we had a multitude of comfortable seating areas. Up went the string lights and hanging planters and our small backyard turned into an entertaining paradise. It truly is beautiful.

So the humor in all of this for me is this…I’m in that stage of life where I’m cutting back, simplifying, only having things in my home that I love and use. I want to spend more time exercising and mediating and traveling (Covid put a damper on that) and spend less time being tied to a house and it’s upkeep. And yet you’ll find me about twice a week walking through Home Goods, Home Sense and At Home…buying more stuff to make outdoor living prettier. I have it all, the pillows and blankets and outdoor rugs, outdoor lighting, and my latest obsession- candle lanterns with remote control battery operated “candles.”

Now getting back to my morning routine with the coffee and getting into the right mindset for the day. I’m like a giddy little girl listening to the birds chirp and smelling my roses while watching the sea grass blow in the breeze. It’s such a beautiful, peaceful moment…and then the anxiety kicks in. Do the birds have food? My daughter laughs at me that I haven’t cooked for my family in years, but I’m worried about making sure the birds are fed and busy making hummingbird food, but can’t make her a meal. True story. I try to find a spot to sit that isn’t wet from the morning dew, or from the sprinklers that were on in the early morning. For one set of the patio furniture my husband bought covers with the expectation that I would cover the furniture each night, and could uncover in the morning and have somewhere dry to sit. That happened once. Those white cushions that came with the sectional sofa…once a year he likes to take the covers off and bleach them. This year in anticipation of a mild Easter Sunday, I dragged the white cushions out of the garage knowing that people would be sitting outside. He attempted to carry them back into the garage because they hadn’t been cleaned yet. They weren’t ready for summer so he didn’t want us using them. They needed to be bleached first. That’s probably not happening. Brush off the pollen and the bird poop and the dust and take a seat. While I’m taking my morning backyard stroll in search of a dry spot to sit, my mind is racing thinking about the sweeping that needs to be done so my outdoor rugs look pretty, the hanging baskets and planters that need to be watered, the pool that needs to be vacuumed, the pollen and dust that needs to be wiped off the bar and kitchen counter. So much for relaxing, right? So much for cutting back and simplifying. When did taking care of my outdoor areas become more complicated and time consuming than cleaning inside my house? When did outdoor dining rooms and living rooms become a thing? When did a sudden rain storm start to cause me anxiety? Years ago a summer afternoon thunderstorm was a welcomed pleasure where the kids and I sat on the front porch and watched the storm and read books and played games. Now the threat of rain has me dropping what I’m doing to run outside and find those covers my husband bought for the furniture. I’m dragging lounge chair cushions into the garage and racing to get those white cushions under the covered bar area, even if it means piling them on top of 5 layers of pollen. Or not….sometimes I don’t do any of that and just let everything get soaked.

All of this makes me long for those days when my parents just folded up those webbed chairs and hung them back on a nail in the garage. My mom wasn’t racing to beat the rain. She was busy smoking cigarettes at the kitchen table while doodling on her pad and talking on the phone that was attached to the wall. Simpler times. Some days I say to myself that I’m getting rid of all of it and getting a good old fashioned picnic table. Maybe I’ll get a red and white checked plastic table cloth for it. Maybe a long cushion to make the benches more comfortable. Maybe some placemats and a cute centerpiece for the table. Maybe some extra chairs for company. You see where this is going, right?

I’m not really sure when outdoor living became as expensive and time consuming as indoor living, when it became equal amounts of pleasure and a dreaded chore. Clearly I jumped on board all the while telling myself, keep it simple Joan, you don’t need another thing. When did I get completely comfortable with the idea that I don’t enjoy cooking and don’t want to cook for my family but I go into a tailspin if I hear the birds “crying” at an empty bird feeder. And why did it take me so long to realize I’m at peace digging in the dirt and picking weeds and planting flowers? And so, backyard living can be a chore, summertime living isn’t always as easy as it appears, but it’s a few short months of the year and I do simply adore it!

In Search of Peter Cottontail

Easter and I have lost that lovin’ feeling. It seems a lot of people have broken up with this holiday. I want to be clear from the start I am not talking about the religious aspect, I am her to discuss the “holiday” part of it, the bunnies, eggs, candy, baskets, hot cross buns, traditional ham or lamb dinners, fancy clothes and Easter bonnets. Now it hasn’t escaped me that perhaps if I embraced the religious aspect, the joy would be there in the Easter Bunny part of it. Priorities, right?

I grew up in a household where the beginning of lent meant the dreaded, mandatory trip to the confessional to confess my sins. The same ones every time…I lied to my parents and I fought with my brother and sister. And then there was fasting on Ash Wednesday, no meat, and not only no meat on Friday’s but we had to have fish, not pizza or macaroni and cheese or something meatless, but fish. Back then two of my very favorite shows were on TV on Friday nights, The Brady Bunch at 8 pm and The Partridge Family at 8:30. If I was quiet I could stay up for my mom’s favorite at 9 pm, Ghost Stories. The problem was dinner was served at 5:30 pm every night and that fish I had to eat on Friday nights… I hated it served hot at 5:30 and I hated it even more as I picked at it cold at 8:00 pm. I hated fish back then. I cried every Friday night knowing we had to eat that, and we had to sit at the table until it was gone…or go to bed without dinner. I would have been willing to do that any other night, but I wasn’t willing to miss my favorite TV shows. So for hours I would sit and pick at the fish, spread it around the plate to look like I ate it, tried to slip a piece or two to the dog, roll some up in a napkin and put it in my pocket and ask to use the bathroom so I could flush it down the toilet. But it was hard to do while I was being watched by someone who didn’t even like fish, ever…my mom. Mom didn’t eat fish and truthfully I can’t remember what she sat there and ate in front of us while I cried through cold fish. What I remember the most is hearing the theme song from The Brady Bunch come on from the other room where my brother and sister were watching. And I would cry. ” I can’t eat it, it’s cold, I’m choking, I’m gagging.” I was stubborn. I was a brat. But when I heard the music come on, I shoveled the remaining pieces of cold, nasty fish onto my fork and swallowed it, while I sobbed. Now the irony is I actually don’t eat meat at all, and I love fish! I still love The Brady Bunch and The Partridge Family!

So that was the beginning of the Easter season, confessing to made up sins, ashes on my forehead that I rubbed off, choking down fish on Friday nights, and of course sacrifice. There was always talk of giving something up, but I’m not sure I ever actually did. Then as it got closer to Easter Sunday the excitement built up. Palm Sunday was a big event, we got to wear a new spring coat to church then my mom made crosses from the palm to be pinned on our new coats. Then we were off to Grandma’s for dinner, at lunch time, but I don’t ever remember calling it brunch or anything else. It was just a big meal served in the middle of the day so you knew it was a special occasion. Then the week brought some solemn days and I faintly remember going to church each morning before school. In Catholic school we got Holy Thursday and Good Friday off, but they were quiet days and at 3pm on Good Friday we needed to have a moment of silence. I believe we fasted again on Good Friday. Saturday brought prep for Easter Sunday with the best part being dying the eggs. Every family seems to have their own traditions and way of doing the Easter Bunny and basket thing, but this is how we did it. My mom boiled the eggs, a dozen for each of us. She laid newspaper on the kitchen table and filled cups up with vinegar and those little colored tabs that fizzed. We sat there as a family and dyed the eggs together, then we put our eggs into our Easter baskets and left them on the coffee table in the family room. After we went to bed, the Easter Bunny took the eggs out of our baskets and hid them, and replaced the eggs with all kinds of candy, around a big chocolate bunny in the center of the basket. When we woke up in the morning there was an Easter egg in our shoe, as our Easter outfits were laid out the night before. We came downstairs and peaked at our baskets and ate lots of jelly beans and chocolate to hold us over before breakfast, then we began to hunt for the eggs. Yes, we hunted for hard boiled eggs that we had left out in our baskets the night before. There was always one or two that the Bunny hid very well and we couldn’t find, so sometimes that had to wait until we got back home after church. We then continued our sugar rush with hot cross buns while my mom prepped food for dinner, served at lunch. Part of her prep was to take those eggs the bunny hid and make deviled eggs out of them. My dad liked them and so did my mom’s dad, Pop Pop. He was a big fan. In the 1960’s and 70’s apparently no one seemed to care that eggs were left unrefrigerated for 15 hours or more! That was another food group I chose not to partake in, thank goodness.

Easter Sunday meant getting dressed up, sometimes with a hat, with the palm cross on our lapels, shiny shoes. The house smelled wonderful with the traditional gift of an Easter Lily and hyacinths. The good china was brought out and the silver had been shined. Special food was being prepared and then the relatives arrived and filled the house with talk and laughter, or we would pile in the car and visit grandparents. The baskets were simple back then, candy, not toys, not money, not coloring books or giftcards…just candy, and lots of it. I remember when we returned to school a week later, bringing candy as a snack. This wasn’t a gift giving holiday like Christmas, there was the gift of an Easter Lily to grandparents. Stores were closed, including food stores. Everything stopped so that families could gather together, whether to celebrate the resurrection of Christ, or to hunt for eggs that were hidden by Peter Cottontail. You knew the day was special. In my mind, every childhood Easter was sunny and warm, the beginning of spring.

Easter carried on and remained the same for many years, with a few changes here and there. I went on to have 5 kids and I kept many of the traditions that I grew up with. My boys usually wore some type of matching or coordinating outfit, shorts sometimes with a sweater vest or blazer, sometimes a bow tie. They were pretty much done with that by the time my daughter came along, the 5th child, but I could dress her up in pretty dresses. While I kept the tradition of The Bunny hiding the hard boiled eggs and hunting for them the next morning, our eggs sat in a basket on the coffee table for all to see, then got thrown in the trash…they did not become deviled eggs! The baskets changed a bit as well as I fell into that trap that you were a bad mommy if you gave your kids candy, so the Bunny filled the baskets with coloring books, bubbles, VCR and then DVD movies, then gift cards and sometimes a bathing suit and flip flops. At one point I decided to keep it simple and go back to traditions and told the Bunny to just bring candy, and everyone survived a basket full of candy. Now the bunny still brings candy, but he also brings a nice bottle of alcohol to my kids ranging from 21-29.

For many years my mom hosted Easter and as a grandmother, she loved it. She had more bunnies in the house than we could count, and believe me, we tried. She always made it special for everyone. She did an egg hunt for all the kids and took great joy in it. She closed all the shades and had the dads go outside and hide plastic eggs. They were filled with candy, coins and dollar bills. Each kid got a bag and she would line them up at the back door from youngest to oldest, and let the younger ones out first for a head start. The kids scrambled around the yard laughing and having fun, but no one had a bigger smile than my mom. One year her basement flooded, it was the kids playroom, and she asked me to host Easter. She was heartbroken she couldn’t do it, but she came over days before with all of her decorations and the bags and eggs. She wanted everything the same for the kids, just at a different house. I have been hosting Easter ever since. I think it became too much for her and she didn’t want to admit it.

But something happened to Easter over the years. Stores started to open up on Easter Sunday. My kids started to give me a hard time about going to church. When they started to go off to college, sometimes it was too far to come home and be back in time for class on Monday morning. There were empty seats at the table. We started to dress more casually for the day. We started to simplify the menu and use paper plates. As moms we were busy and a holiday became more of a chore than something to bring out your finest for. It seemed Easter was the easiest holiday to give up. Even tho I created Easter magic when my kids were young the way I created Christmas magic, as I got older, I got tired, I lost enthusiasm. And while the thought of missing Christmas would make my adult children sad, they don’t give much thought to missing Easter at home, “it’s just Easter mom.” And I think, where did I go wrong? I made it so special. I’m all about holidays and traditions and gathering family together. Why don’t they seem to care about Easter? Why don’t so many people seem to care about Easter? Why don’t I care about Easter?

As a society I think overall we have become less about pomp and circumstance and formality, and don’t give as much importance to traditions as we used to. I can’t change the worlds view, I can’t change my kids, my friends or family views, but if I want the joy and fun of Easter back, I can change my view. I can dress up for Easter, I can cook a special meal. After years of saying it’s not about the fuss, it’s about being together, this year I want a little fuss. I want to chose the china over paper plates, linen napkins over paper. After a year of living in leggings and missing so many gatherings with family and friends, I want to get dressed up and feel special again. I want my guests to feel my excitement in having them here in my home so I will fill my home with flowers and good food and fun cocktails. I will set the table with the good china. I have hosted holidays and occasions with a house under construction, I have hosted holidays and celebrations in a rental house where we lived after our house burned down, I have hosted celebrations when I had little money and couldn’t afford much more than a few boxes of $1.00 pasta. I know it’s about the coming together, that is the bottom line, and that is why I never stopped entertaining through difficult times over the years. But from time to time I get the urge to go back to when everything seemed to pause for a “special” day, a holiday, when we showed our appreciation for it by dressing up, showing up, using the platters and serving pieces we got for our weddings or were handed down from grandparents, when the food was not what we ate on a daily basis, when we set a formal table.

This year we are gathering with family. Only two of our 5 kids will be here, although I should mention we have a bonus now with a daughter in law. Our youngest two will be staying at their colleges, and our middle son is in Florida with his girlfriend and her family. My brother will be away but his son will join us. My sister will be here with all 3 of her children and their spouses, significant others, and her four grandchildren. My mom is no longer with us but we have some great memories and photos from her last Easter here at my house. We will keep the tradition of the egg hunt, in memory of Grams, Grandma, Mom. After not being able to celebrate together last year, I want this year to be special. It really didn’t occur to me until the other day to kick it up a notch, to make it special again the way it used to be. The meal will remain simple, but I have set the table with the china and silver. I have some of my mom’s Easter serving pieces that I will use. I ran out today in between showing houses to get tulips for all the ladies. My son will help make a specialty cocktail, well I’m going to be honest here, he’s an amazing cook and enjoys it, so he’ll be cooking the meal as well! I’m going to dress up a little bit, and I know for sure I won’t be wearing leggings. We did not dye eggs this year as it’s just my husband and I and our son who came home for the weekend, but the baskets are filled with candy and alcohol and are ready to go. Even the dogs are getting a visit from The Easter Bunny. The flower pots outside have been filled with pansies and tulips. The hyacinths from years gone by are starting to bloom and I have taken cuttings from them and the daffodils and placed them in little vases throughout the house. It’s the little things.

I don’t know when I lost my enthusiasm for Easter or why. But I do know I want it back. The Covid lockdown and being kept from family and friends has reminded me it’s nice to just get together, even if it’s a simple gathering. It’s also taught me that when we say, “oh we can do that next year” there may not be a next year. Could you ever imagine that holidays would be canceled? We are not promised tomorrow, so celebrate today, and celebrate in a big way. Take pictures, lots of pictures. Don’t say, we’ll get the family picture next time. This is the time. Use the good stuff, the pretty glasses, the expensive china. It’s just stuff, but using it makes things feel special. I remember after weeks, ok months, last year of not getting dressed, living in leggings, not using makeup, not being able to get my hair cut and colored…I got too comfortable with it, I got lazy. The first week or so it was fun, having some downtime, being forced to stay home, not putting on makeup or curling or straightening your hair. But after awhile I didn’t feel good about myself. I gained weight. I got lazy. I didn’t like the person I was seeing in the mirror. It was one of those be careful what you wish for moments. I started to want to look good again, to feel good, because it goes hand in hand. I started wearing makeup again, getting dressed. It makes you feel like living a good life again. It was energizing. When you give time and attention to something, it takes on life, joy, fun. I have decided to give time and attention to Easter again, to breath some life back into it, to make it special.

I’m going to work on that religious aspect of Easter again, but for now I am just happy that Peter Cottontail will be hoping down the bunny trail this year. Hope you all have a wonderful Easter, a wonderful day, a wonderful holiday.

Mom and Me, in our Easter Bonnets. 1964. Jersey City, NJ

Failure Is My Motivation

I am a failure, every single day. Sounds harsh, but it’s my reality. I will explain, but I am curious as to how you get motivated? Do you prefer soft and gentle encouragement or the cold, hard truth? Do you like acknowledgement for your ability to try, or are you open to receiving what could be the harsh reality of your failure?

I recently started a journey to mental and physical health. I’ve written previously about my difficult year before Covid and finally getting myself together, just in time for the Covid lockdown. I have some issues to work through, no doubt, related to being socially cut off, but today I am here to talk about my physical health journey, although mind and body certainly go hand and hand. To start on the right path, I made the decision to drink more water. There is nothing easier, cheaper and quicker you can do to see health benefits. And yet I have always struggled with drinking enough water. It is not easy for me, but it’s easier than running (which I am not going to do) and it’s easier than my workouts on my new Peloton, so I made a commitment to do it. Each morning I fill up a glass jug, the one I normally fill with sangria for a party, put a few slices of fresh fruit in, get a pretty glass filled with ice, and start drinking my 64 ounces of water. I marked the back of the jug with a permanent marker where 64 ounces is, no more, no less. I have a thing for glass, I don’t like drinking from plastic so I try to make the water as appealing as I can. And then there is the fruit, veggies, or herbs to infuse and give added interest and taste. This is part of my morning routine that includes drinking a protein shake, made with water, a cup of hot water with ginger and lemon, and a cup of water with apple cider vinegar, and of course coffee. I decided I needed to fill and mark this jug with a full 64 ounces because there are times I skip part of my morning routine if I am on the run. I need something to mark my progress, or the lack thereof.

Although I have not always been thrilled with my weight, I was happily and blissfully going through life thinking everything was fine. I felt good, I exercised off and on, walked, hiked, and rode my bike. In my 30’s some weight snuck up on me and I assumed it was left over baby weight after 5 kids, and some premenopausal pounds. But life was good. In my 40’s another 10 pounds snuck up on me and I thought, oh now these are the menopause pounds. In my 50’s I am on the other side of menopause and those pounds seemed to appear one morning when I woke up, and that baby weight, well my baby just turned 21. The years and the weight really snuck up on me. And along comes Covid with too much eating and drinking from boredom and not enough activity to burn those pounds off. A tick bite last summer sent me to the doctor who hit me with the news I have high blood pressure, as in you need to be on medication high blood pressure. What the hell? My last doctor’s visit (albeit years ago!) I was being praised for my physical health and told I had low blood pressure. This news rattled me, but not enough to do something immediately. Now it has finally sunk in and it is no joke. I don’t want to have high blood pressure, and I don’t want to be on medicine the rest of my life, or even another year to be honest. So I have a plan, I have goals and this time I am sticking to them. And they start with drinking more water.

So each morning I fill up that glass jug, but not until I empty out the leftover water from the day before. My son was over recently and asked about the water. I told him how I filled it up each morning to the mark I had made with a permanent marker. He complimented me on my journey to better health and just like I said, told me water is the cheapest, easiest thing you can do for your body. He thought it was great until I told him I struggled drinking it and wasn’t finishing it. So he said to me, or rather asked me, “you have a goal every day and every day you fail at it?” I said oh no, I’m not failing at all, I’m drinking more water than I ever did and can’t believe how much I am now drinking and how dehydrated I must have been. He asked me again, “you have a goal every day and every day you fail at it?” Again I said no. I went on to explain about my morning routine with the shake, and the apple cider vinegar water, and the hot water with lemon, and the coffee. I told him that technically by the time I got to that water jug with 8 cups of water in it, I had already drank 4 cups of water. He asked me if my goal was to drink all the water in that jug. “Yup!” He asked did I. “Nope.” He said, well then you failed at meeting your goal. At first I was so busy tooting my own horn about how great it was I was drinking more water, after initially being offended by his blunt determination that I had failed at meeting my goal, that I didn’t really hear him. I didn’t hear the honesty, I didn’t hear the truth. I was putting my expectations of what I wanted to hear from him on him. I wanted the gentle praise for what I was doing, and I wanted him to ignore what I was not doing- reaching a goal.

My journey to good health is not the time to sugarcoat anything, in fact I don’t need any more sugar of any kind. While I thought if I didn’t drink any water yesterday and I had 2 glasses today, that that should be met with praise and “yay you Mom”, the harsh reality is that no, no I did not meet my goal. My son didn’t set that goal, I set that goal. Although I thought I was seeing the good in what I did drink, seeing the glass half full (pun intended) he was saying the glass should be full and then drink the entire thing, 8 more times before the end of the day! While at first I thought my son was being harsh, when I started to listen to his words instead of my feelings, his words were 100% accurate, factual, and on target. I needed to hear the message and not kill the messenger. My immediate reaction was to hear words in my head that he actually didn’t say. He didn’t call me a loser. He didn’t say anything offensive. He stated a fact. High blood pressure is some serious stuff and it’s not the time for gentle encouragement and an awkward “it’s okay.” If you want to give gentle encouragement, if you see a difference, tell me, cheer me on. I see a difference in my skin and that makes me feel good, that encourages me to keep at it. But there is a time when we need our butt kicked, and when it comes to good health, kick away! There is a time we need to hear truth without twisting it to have it come out hurtful and cruel and mean spirited, when it wasn’t meant that way. Sometimes it is just a truth, plain and simple. I was filling up that water jug every day and I was emptying half of it the next day. When it came to my goal I was failing. Every. Single. Day.

Feeling motivated by my failure, every morning I fill that jug up and even if I am standing in front of it at midnight chugging it down, I finish it. Every. Single. Day. Why, because it was a simple goal, a goal I made for myself and something I will no longer fail at.

While drinking a lot of water doesn’t come easy to me, I figured it was safe to go from not drinking hardly any water to drinking at least 64 ounces a day. The physical exercise goal I am much more cautious about. The Peloton arrived and I made a commitment to the 6 week beginner workout. Six weeks, no if’s and’s or but’s. There are so many options with the Peloton, but I need the structure of a program or I’d too easily walk away. Some days the program isn’t tough enough for me and I will add another ride to it or use the rowing machine. Some days it is a real challenge, a struggle. I will say the instructors for the beginners programs give that gentle, soft encouragement that apparently doesn’t work for me. And that is okay, that is their job and I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t have a job if they told people they failed at getting through their workout. Sometimes while they are being bubbly and encouraging I am hearing in my head, blah, blah, blah and thinking to myself, if I don’t get my blood pressure under control, someday I’m going to fall out of that seat with my shoes clipped into the pedals and break my ankles, so do the work girl! Loose the weight, build your endurance and keep moving! I seem to work better with a little tough love, or when I’m told I failed at something, or even when I’m told I can’t do something.

More than 25 years ago we were celebrating my grandmother’s 87th birthday at her house. I was at a loss for what to give her as a present at that age so I chose to write her a tribute, a letter about all the wonderful and simple things she did and the memories she created for me and her other grandchildren and great grandchildren. She went into the hospital that day and passed away 3 weeks later. A few of my dad’s sisters asked me if I would read that tribute to Granny as a eulogy at her funeral mass. Before I could even process that, my Dad stepped in and said, “oh she can’t do that, she’ll never be able to get through that.” Once again that may sound a bit harsh to some of you, but my Dad knew me well, he knew I was painfully awkward in front of large crowds and that speaking in front of one would create a tremendous amount of anxiety. But something came over me and I said I would do it. I didn’t fret about it, I didn’t even really think about it. I didn’t even really practice reading it because what I had written to Granny as a birthday tribute was so heartfelt and honest that it flowed easily onto paper and I was certain would flow easily from my mouth. Then the funeral day came and I was a bit more nervous. My aunt whispered in my ear earlier that morning that her husband had practiced reading my tribute and was prepared to fill in for me, just give her a nod. My husband came up on the altar with me, prepared to take over if I became too emotional. But once again, something came over me and I delivered that eulogy the way I dreamed it should be given, with grace and elegance. I spoke with passion, I looked at the crowd, I paused when there was something to think about, I laughed, I cried. I was so proud of myself. As I came down off of that altar, I winked at my Dad. I couldn’t help myself and mouthed an “I told you so.” My Dad told me I couldn’t do something, and so I did. That seems to be my motivation.

I was thinking recently about one of my favorite movies, Miracle On Ice. There is that scene where the coach, Herb Brooks is having the players do a skating drill and he is working their asses off, pushing them, and just when you think they can’t skate another second, he tells them, “again.” As the mom of a hockey player I was crying, horrified. How could he push them like that? And yet I remember that moment when they won the gold medal in the Olympics. They didn’t win that because the coach was soft on them. They didn’t win that because he said yay you, you did a little better today than yesterday. We all need that person who is going to tell us like it is. We need to take emotions out of it sometimes and deal with facts. Too often we deflect our failures onto the person who delivered the message. They weren’t gentle enough. They didn’t encourage us enough. They didn’t “look for the good” and praise us enough for the progress we did make. But that is on us. If you set a goal, and one as serious as your health, you can’t always expect “yay you, it’s okay” when you are not doing the things to get you there. There is no sense in skating around the issue (pun intended!) when it comes to my health. We need to remove our egos, we need to hear the intent behind the words, not just the words. My son wasn’t being hurtful, his words were simple and true, blunt but true. My dad wasn’t being critical of me and I often wonder if he said I couldn’t read that eulogy on purpose, because he knew it would motivate me. People respond to different styles of motivation differently. I need a little tough love, I need the truth, I need to deal in reality.

Give some thought as to how you respond to various styles of motivation. Don’t take offense to words, until you know the intent. Don’t become so defensive of your feelings that you don’t hear someone else’s concern. Sometimes our greatest successes are born out of our greatest failures. I don’t like to soften the word failure, but I do like to see failure as an opportunity for growth, for doing better, for learning. I don’t always see the word as negative. Motivation is a mindset. Success is a mindset. Even happiness is a mindset. Acknowledge the bad so that you can truly enjoy the good. For those of you that don’t like winter, spring wouldn’t feel so sweet if winter didn’t feel so bad. It all has a purpose in your growth.

Well, I have to go fill up that water jug because today I am going to succeed in drinking the entire 64 ounces! Cheers!

The Tiered Tray Trend Tryout

I have said it before and will say it again, I am not trendy. Apparently there is a new, or maybe not so new but new to me trend of tiered trays for use in home decor. I’ll confess right now I have FOUR of them! I’m not even sure how it happened. Well, to be truthful, the first thing I did after the covid lockdown was lifted last summer was go to Home Goods, and the Home Sense next door, so that is how it happened. I kept seeing the trays and would think, do I need this, can I use this, do I have room for it?

A year ago, before travel was stopped, I was in Memphis for a Navy football game and stayed in the most adorable AirBnb. It was decorated so beautifully and my favorite part was the bookshelves filled with books. That almost seems like an oxymoron, that bookshelves should be filled with books, but today they are more for items to be displayed and less about storing books. I’ve written about it before, but I stumbled upon the Marie Kondo book about the things in your house sparking joy, or get rid of them. I’ve also confessed before, that having had a fire and loosing so many of my things, I actually have an affection for “things” and I’m okay with that. I explained all of that in a previous blog post. But what I did embrace was the philosophy of use it or loose it. I’m from the generation of being gifted with fine china for your wedding and serving pieces that were never used. But now I use everything I have…nothing is for a “special occasion” because each day is a special occasion. Life is short, eat dessert and use the good dishes.

So back to the tiered tray. Although I am not trendy, I may have actually been ahead of this trend. I have a glass tiered tray that my mom gave me as a bridal shower gift over 30 years ago. She was a big shopper and most likely took me to every Mikasa outlet in New Jersey and New York to make sure I had everything I “needed” for my kitchen and dining room, that would eventually become “not needed.” I used this glass tray for desserts and mini pastries over the years and displayed it proudly in my china cabinet along with all the other seldom used “fancy” dishes and serving pieces. At one point I dismantled it and stored it away thinking it would just be easier to put it together on the rare occasions I would need it. Well, 30 plus years of marriage and 5 kids later, that pretty glass tiered tray made it out of hiding maybe a handful of times. Life became a hectic rush and it made more sense to take the desserts out of a box, sometimes, and put them on a kitchen plate. Fancy serving pieces had no part in this hockey/baseball/basketball/soccer mom’s life.

So here I am, practically an empty nester, coming out of a year of entertaining no one but my family and suddenly I have the urge to drag out all my fancy, previously unused pieces to make a visually beautiful life. Take-out gets taken out of the box and served in beautiful bowls and on pretty platters. The glass tiered tray has been put back together when serving desserts. Suddenly I have the urge to celebrate life surrounded by beautiful things, things I have been gifted with or have collected over the years. Many of these things came from my mom, who I lost two years ago and some are from my grandmother who has been gone over 20 years. As I get older, and start to realize my older relatives aren’t going to always be here for me, I have grown an appreciation for the things and the traditions that they have passed down to me.

I got totally off track here from the original intent of my post, but as with all things I write about, the back story always leads to the actual story. As my dear friend Beth would say, let me make a short story long! Anyway, back to the tiered tray trend. In my obsession with and weekly visits to Home Goods, I broke down and bought another tiered tray, a rustic wooden one. The biggest one in the store. I promised myself that I would use it. It sparked joy and Marie Kondo would be proud of me! I intended to put frequently used spices on it, bottles of oil and vinegar. It wasn’t going to be a useless display, it was going to be functional. I snuck it in the house while everyone was “working from home” in various places throughout the house.” I figured I could get it all set up and no one would notice, like it was always there, and suddenly it would be so much easier while cooking to access all the spices and oils. Well, the first issue was, the rustic wood, while it spoke to me in Home Goods, didn’t match anything in my house. There is nothing rustic about my home. But I still loved it. The bigger issue was…it didn’t fit under my cabinets, not the one next to the stove. I thought about moving it to my island, but it clashed with my dark walnut counter top. Maybe I could make it work if I started filling it up with the things I wanted to put on it, the rustic wood that I loved so much would be covered up and maybe it wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb. Well, that didn’t work either, the bottles of oils and vinegars didn’t fit on the bottom shelve, they were too tall. Ugh. As I frantically tried to put my kitchen back to normal before anyone came in and saw my silly purchase and big mistake, I ran the tray that was half my size down to the basement. My basement is part family room, part bar, part gym, part storage, and part holding ground for things that need to be returned (um, never) or go to Good Will. It was then that I realized I had the perfect spot for the tray…the bar! The bar area is a bit more rustic with a wooden wine rack and wooden shelves for the liquor bottles. I found the perfect home. I filled it with coasters and cocktail napkins, mini liquor bottles and pretty glasses. I made it useful, purposeful and it looks darn good too! I fell in love with that tray and am so happy I was able to incorporate into my home somehow. End of story…

Not really. Clearly I have an issue. I purchased 2 more tiered trays. A white metal one that I don’t like at all and a white metal and wood one. I was determined to make something work by the stove to collect all those spices and oils. I’m just not sure why I didn’t learn my lesson that the oil bottles don’t fit on the bottom. So off they went to the basement graveyard. Eventually I put the white metal one in the back of my car, promising myself that I was going to return it…after I found the receipt. I’m not so good about receipts so the tray has found it’s way back to the graveyard, to be taken off to Good Will someday when it stops snowing. End of story….

Nope! So I may not have gotten to the part about my obsession with home decor accounts on Instagram. Between politics and a pandemic I moved away from Face Book and immersed myself in Instagram, when I’m not watching HGTV. Truth is, I love creating a beautiful home for my family and friends, and seeing how other people live as well. As a realtor, I miss going to Open Houses so I think Instagram and HGTV have filled that gap for me, as the addiction is real. I have a whole other post that will be devoted to that but what I need to stick with for now is the fact that apparently there is a whole world of hashtags out there for tiered trays. They are everywhere (including several in my basement!) and they are being used for staging, for vignettes. The trays are being perfectly styled with cute little seasonal decorations from pumpkins to bunnies and Easter eggs. Pretty to look at. Not mine tho. Mine are practical because that was, is, my new philosophy- use it or loose it, everything must have a purpose because after being home in my house for a year, I’m scaling back while keeping it welcoming and warm. I don’t want any more “stuff” unless it sparks joy and is useful. I don’t want anything else to clean and take care of, or for someone to have to pack up or toss when I’m gone. But I still go to Home Goods several times a week, go figure. So now we enter Home Goods tiered tray NUMBER 4! This one I just couldn’t resist. I was honest with myself that it wasn’t going to hold oils and spices and it’s actually too pretty to do so. I was just stopped in my tracks by it’s beauty, seriously. It’s creamy white with a shimmery design almost resembling an abalone shell, silver, and dark wood. Stunning. I have a thing for white with dark wood. I stood with it, in my cart because at Home Goods if you are even thinking about it, it has to go in your cart, going through my rules of bringing something into the house…do I love it, is it useful, will it fit, and now as I age and just cleaned out my mom’s house, I have added, is someone going to ask “what was she thinking” and throw it out? It passed the test, checked all the boxes for why I should buy it and I promised myself I wasn’t going to use it for staging like the Instagram people. My tray was going to be useful, was going to be displayed properly with appetizers and desserts…just like the glass one my mom gave me many years ago that I seldom use. My gorgeous tiered tray was not going to hold kitchy collections of Hobby Lobby mini rolling pins and a sign that said “coffee bar.” Then Valentine’s Day came and I got a bit caught up in it. It’s not a big decorating holiday for me but I do have a few things from when the kids were little and I made a bigger deal out of the smaller holidays. So my tray became a bit staged, a tiny bit. I put a candle or two on it, but in all fairness to my promise it would hold desserts, I put a little bowl from my mom on it and filled it with candy kisses, 2 bowls of candy actually. And I put some salt and pepper shakers on it, to keep it real, next to the heart cookie cutter that was for staging. I did a good job balancing it. It was the cake plate next to it where I went a little crazy with the staged Valentine decor, because yes, apparently cake plates are another trend of things being used for staging and not actually for putting a cake on.

I think it’s fair to say I need to spend a little less time on Instagram and need to get back to in person Open Houses to curb my appetite for home decor curiosity. And maybe take less trips to Home Goods. I went in the opposite direction the other day and tried our somewhat new TJ Maxx. The cashier said, “oh I know you.” I looked around seeing who she was talking to but apparently it was me. I’m not really a TJ Maxx shopper (not as large as our Home Goods) so something tells me she may have worked at Home Goods at some point. So to wrap it up, I’m dismantling the cake plate and making the tiered tray more functional than staged, but, St Patrick’s Day is just around the corner! And oh, as for my tray, the most beautiful one of all…I found a matching bowl!