Face Cream

Day three with the house to myself.... Frances comes home tomorrow.

I am at the point that I am really enjoying this: the quiet, the freedom, the space. And yet, the foundation of my willingness to enjoy myself is the awareness - and the confidence - that she is, in fact, coming home. It is pretty clear that left to myself for any length of time, I would become the complete recluse that I have been these left few days. A few days of it - great. Any more than that, not so good.

Today I decided to buy face cream. With this new (short) haircut, my skin is on shockingly promient display, and my age is also bringing skin care to the forefront. Up until now, my skin care program has been - and I do not exaggerate here - nonexistent.

I started the shopping process by visiting the Oil of Olay website to get my "personal" skin care recommendations. I knew to do this after far too many hours walking on the treadmill in front of the TV set; those commercials with healthy, active people living magical lives because of the cleanliness of their pores really got to me.

It turns out that the website questionairre is just a few questions after which a personal profile is provided. I was embarassed to admit to the computer that I washed my face when I was in the shower in the morning and that after that all bets were off. Easily, the computer suggested several improvements in my skin care regime. Suprisingly, I decided to follow the suggestions.

Armed with my Oil of Olay recommendations I headed to Target where I stood in the face cream aisle long enough to attract the attention of security. It probably took me 30 minutes to examine four shelves of merchanidse and find the suggested cleanser, moisturizer (with sunscreen!), night cream (while I was at it) and for reasons that I don't quite understand - daily mini peel lotion thing. Whatever that is.

I am not expecting miracles here. I know that the cleanliness of my pores is of very limited importance in my overall quality of life. But hey, it isn't going to hurt anything either. I'll keep you posted!

Wish me luck... the same to you

I am living in a raw emotional place probably due in equal parts to giving up my anti depressants and living a holiday out by myself.

I am not sad. I am not even unhappy. But I am aware, poignantly aware, of all that I have lost and all that I will eventually lose. That awareness is tucked under the thinnest of veneers. Picture me at the (crowded) gym today walking away on the treadmill; I am watching a rerun of The View and fighting back tears as Whoopi Goldberg talks about going through the death of her mother. This is so not a typical picture; I don't generally live from my emotions.

I downloaded "Levon" by Elton John this afternoon and rocked out to that for awhile because Sir Elton and his partner have named their new son Zachary Jackson Levon Furnish-John and I just wanted to celebrate new life for awhile.

And then, for some reason, I couldn't get "What I Did For Love" (from A Chorus Line) out of my head. I must have listened to it 20 times (the things you can do when you have the house to yourself!)

The lyrics are perfect for New Year's Eve,,,,,"Kiss today goodbye and point me toward tomorrow; wish me luck, the same to you; won't regret, can't forget what I did for love." But beyond a New Year's expression of hope, for me today that song was a hymn. A hymn sung (badly and off key I am sure) with all whom I love and have ever loved: "Gone. Love is never gone. As we travel on, love's what we'll remember..."

The song may be one of the best expressions of loss and courage that I know. "Look, my eyes are dry.... the gift was ours to borrow." Shit. My eyes weren't dry as I sang through that line for the first 15 times. But by the 20th time, they were. Because it is true. We travel on. We love fiercely while we can. And we live with the knowledge that the gifts of life are ours - ours to borrow.

Happy New Year.

Reverse Course

Today I am supposed to be flying to California for a family New Year's Party - a two-night stay brought to you by having a partner who works for the airlines.

I won't go into the ins and outs of employee airline travel, but suffice it to say that the weather has disrupted flights nationwide and my partner went to California. I stayed home.

There is a familiar fantasy about having the house to one's self for a few days. You know the fantasy - long baths with scented bath salts, healthy meals, thick novels and quiet - most especially, quiet.

Strangely, having been abruptly handed the "home to yourself" fantasy, I feel oddly out of place in my own skin. This morning, I woke up facing a hectic weekend of air travel and family, and by noon I was looking at four days on my own at home.

I live a very communal life, so this is taking some getting used to!

It is tempting to fill the time up with distraction - it would be very easy to do. I could call a friend to take a walk; I could go to the movies; I could cook a turkey and then post a message on Facebook inviting all comers over for dinner. And who knows, I may do all of those things.

But another way to go is to head to the grocery store for food that I love, crank up the ipod with music that I like (but no one else does), and then head to bed early for a long night sleep.

That's the route I am taking today. I'll let you know how tomorrow goes.

Aftermath

I found myself snowed in to New York as part of what New Yorkers are calling the blizzard of 2010. For the most part, it was glorious. The snow, the permission to do very little, the chance to linger a bit longer than one had planned.

Ah yes, that. The lingering. I have definitely overstayed my welcome with family - not by choice mind you, but by circumstance. And the emotional glimpses are piling on.

The first emotional glimpse has been in to the lives of lonely people. I am lonely up here. I don't know anybody; I don't know the roads; I don't even know the kitchen. But I do know that if my brother-in-law has to look at me for even one more minute, he will explode, I will explode back, and the children will remember this holiday for all the wrong reasons.

In a bid for family peace, I decided that the best thing for all concerned today would be for me to take a VERY LONG walk downtown.

There were plenty of us out and about: dining alone at the diner, sipping soup by ourselves at the bistro, walking over the piles of snow without anyone to make sure that we made it. Looking around, I guessed that I was one of the younger ones. I was also aware of how suddenly I had found myself in this unmoored place - I am supposed to be enjoying my daughter's young adult life during these holidays, not sitting alone in a diner.

After the diner I headed to the yarn shop to buy some crochet stuff for tonight's train ride home (I realize that it is a bit optimistic to think that there might be a train to take me home...).

The yarn shop is a tiny place, owned by a woman who has been there 30 years. And the place was HOPPING. Folks were there to talk about crochet - sort of. In reality, they were there to talk about visiting their parents' graves and attemping to remember the Polish that was all their parents ever spoke at home; or to get advice about how to help a struggling niece. Or to have a cookie. There were plenty of cookies. And I felt at home among these folks who were eager to share my excitement about starting a project.

And so, another emotional glimpse. Middle aged and older women, with stories to tell and time to share with each other: in many ways, that is who I am. For an hour or so, I didn't feel so lonely.

After that, and realizing that it was just toooooo soon to show up again at the family home, I decided to get my hair cut. Why not? And we are not talking a little trim here. We are talking a BIG MAJOR change for the New Year. I have already alerted my partner to changes ahead. I think she will be okay with it.

Poignantly, there is a bottle of REALLY GOOD champagne chilling in the refrigerator. It will, I am sure, celebrate that all of the guests are GONE.

I am hoping they will be able to pop that cork tonight. After too many days of guests, they deserve it.

Sinking in to the Holiday

There comes a point when it is just time to sink in to a holiday.

You've reached that point when "enough" has been reached. Enough stocking up on food, drink, presents, sweets. Enough traffic, driving, planning, scheming. Enough swipes of the tired Visa card.

The trick of really sinking in to the holidays, it seems to me, is to recognize the "enough" point and to act on it by getting out of the director's seat and simply letting the holidays unfold. The alternative, which I know well, is a holiday season overshadowed by the frustration of all that "could have been."

Would I love to buy one more gift for Frances. Yes? Will it add one iota to her joy on Christmas morning? No. Would I love to get my mother a book that I just heard about? Yes, I would. But, she has plenty of gifts to open this year, not to mention birthdays and mothers days ahead. Is there enough wine in the house to sip and to share? Absolutely. Can we offer neighbors cheese and crackers if they stop by? Yes - and they won't even miss the nut mix that just isn't getting purchased this year. I have reached "enough."

And I am ready to let the miracles of the holidays unfold: wine and cheese become stories told, laughter shared. Gifts that are occasionally cherished and sometimes "re-gifted" stregthen our relationships either way. Music and lights heighten our awareness that we are, all of us, sacred.

There is room in my holidays this year for surprise and for wonder. For miracles and for fun. And I am not going to miss those moments of eternal abundance fussing over a parking place at the mall or the consistency of my cranberry sauce. I have done Enough.

Receeding Gums

You can skip this post if you want to. There are far more interesting - even uplifing - posts on this blog.

But today, the major thing on my mind is receeding gums. My teeth are really, really strong. They are not necessarily straight or white but they don't have any cavaties and all in all they function like they are supposed to.

My gums are a different matter all together. Any day now, the roots of my teeth are going to be completely exposed and I am going to have a peridontist on speed dial for the rest of my life. There is neither bleeding nor pain involved in this condition - I don't want you visualizing gore or anything. But, it's pretty clear to me that the aging process has made itself at home in my mouth and major dental work is likely in my future. I am REALLY not looking forward to this.

On the other hand, if I end up having to do major dental work anyway...maybe I'll invest in some serious whitening while I am at it. And then, heck, I can straighten them up too. Or maybe I can just have veneers or some such thing installed. Many options (if I hadn't just quit my job!). I guess I can find a bright side in anything.

Nevertehless, my current strategy is to postpone professional intervention for as long as possible. This is neither mature nor wise nor even remotely a good idea. It will probably lead to dentures before it leads to whitening.

Basically, I am up against my overall lack of faith in the medical establishment, my unwillingness to spend money on far too routine preventive health care, and some waning sense of immortaility; really waning if you know what I mean.

Maybe I'll get a new strategy after the new year. How's that for meeting the New Year with a smile?

Merry Christmas

The Sunday before Christmas, and I feel settled in all of it. The tree is lit, the wine is poured. Let the Christmas tunes play at the grocery store, in the elevator, and in the television commercials. Bring it on.

Today, my partner and I lived out the messiness of Christmas. She spent the day with friends watching the Eagles play what I guess was an amazing football game while I went to the cathedral for the day. Her day was a heavily secular celebration, mine an overtly religious obsevance.

Christmas has always been both secular and religious. In defining Christmas, the early Christian church "adopted" the already robust secular solistice celebration as a religious holiday. The party definitely came before the theology.

The secular holiday today celebrates family traditions, treasured recipes, the discipline of giving and the wonder of mystery. All wonderful things to celebrate in and of themselves. Add a bit of wine and too many sweets, some candles, and some songs about Rudolph and Santa Claus and you've got the stuff of memory. God is present. Watching a great football game with dear friends is clearly at home in the secular holiday tradition.

The overtly religious tradition celebrates God's movement in our lives. If Christmas means anything at all to me, it means that God is present in the totality of human life. And I do want to celebrate that presence - with song, and with poetry and with the vigor of thousands of years of tradition. God is present in the mourning; God is there in the gathering; God lives in the celebration. Amen.

There are many roads. God is there among the friends on the couch watching football. God is in the manger. God lives and dwells among us.