Saturday, January 13, 2018

Clearly now

I'm under pressure with two deadlines over here, an edit of a manuscript and the finish of a proposal, for which I still have to craft a sample chapter. So I may be scarce for a while, maybe just posting pictures. I should note, however, that I turned in my book to the publisher this week. The editor hasn't read it yet, she has other manuscripts queued up, but my subject was happy with how her story turned out and her agent was happy, and my agent, after spending yesterday on her couch reading, sent me the most wonderful note last night. I don't want to blow by these milestones. They matter. The editor is the one to please, of course, but I'm still relieved that two very tough readers did not think the book sucked.

Here's another rediscovered photo, this one of my parents with my daughter the month after she was born. My girl is in L.A. right now, visiting college friends and lifer friends. Yesterday her social media was full of boomerangs of the Santa Monica Pier, the waves doing a cha cha on the shore, the pilings under the boardwalk, riding a bicycle along a concrete path, daredevils in the skate park. This is the trip she abandoned at the airport gate last Labor Day weekend, when I called to tell her that her dad would be having surgery the following day. I find I still watch my husband closely, trying to make sure no symptoms are missed, the fantasy of complete control. He's been casting his mind back lately, realizing that his heart had been going bad for years, and he ignored all the signs. Everybody in New York is tired, he used to say. He sees more clearly now.

All is well.


Bestie


Happy birthday to my dear friend. I love this joyful picture of her with her son. 


Sunday, January 7, 2018

Love

My aunt's funeral service went off with many hitches. First, the snow storm caused flights from everywhere to be cancelled, leaving my brother and niece stranded in Jamaica. My cousin from Nassau who was supposed to deliver the eulogy, and our cousins who were traveling up from Florida also had their flights cancelled, but the Virginia, Maryland and Boston cousins drove or took the bus, despite the so called bomb cyclone that dumped so much snow and blanketed the Northeast in subzero temperatures.

The service itself was an exercise in acceptance. There was no program, and therefore much confusion about what was supposed to happen next. The priest clearly knew nothing about our aunt, and should not have bothered to deliver an address of any sort, as his words only highlighted his lack of preparation. My cousin Helen was sitting beside me. I turned to her and whispered, "I think they needed more support with planning. I feel awful that I didn't offer more help." Helen beamed her bright impish smile and whispered back, "That is just self-abuse. Let it go. Everything is happening exactly as it's meant to." I relaxed then, and let everything be just what it was.

At the repast after, the food didn't arrive for hours. The service had been a morning one and most people hadn't eaten breakfast, including me. Despite almost everyone being ravenous, the milling around and catching up with family was lovely. My cousin Winsome had found a box of photographs in her garage that had belonged to our Uncle Charlie, who died ten years ago now. She had sorted the photos in different envelopes to be parceled out to family members, and we all pored over each others pictures, remembering who and what and when. That was definitely a highlight.

My own envelope included photos of my children as babies and toddlers and at birthday parties for which Uncle Charle usually baked the cake. My daughter and niece immediately started snapping photos of the photos and posting them on social media for my son, who was out of town at an alumni track meet, and their cousins in Vancouver, who also weren't there. Not to be outdone, I'm posting one of my favorite photo rediscoveries here.

It's Sunday afternoon now. All our houseguests are back on the road heading home, and my husband just walked in carting bags of groceries. He plans to make zucchini noodle lasagna for dinner. He just said to me, "You know, I love when the kids come by and hang out with us, and I love having our extended family stay in our home, but there is a certain joy I feel when I know I'm coming home to just you." After 31 years of marriage, his words made my heart smile. Our nest isn't empty at all.


Thursday, January 4, 2018

Workday


We have family coming to town tomorrow. My brother and my niece are flying in from Jamaica, and my cousin and her husband and three grown boys are driving up from Virginia, all staying with us. They're coming to attend our Aunt Fay's funeral in New Jersey on Saturday, the eighth of the nine elder siblings to whom we must say goodbye. The weather isn't cooperating. The Northeast is experiencing something called a bomb cyclone of snowfall, a blizzard whipped by hurricane force winds. Several inches have already fallen on the city, and tomorrow, when the snow ends, is expected to be a deep freeze. I am working away, trying not to slip into the familiar anxiety that assails me whenever company’s coming. The house is clean, but cluttered from the holidays, and the Christmas tree is still up, though well past its prime. But the snow is pretty, especially from inside. 

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Waitress The Musical


 This darling girl of mine


 gave her mother a Christmas gift to a Broadway show


which made her mother super happy because


the gift involved spending time with her girl. 


In keeping with the show's theme pie was served seatside


and so was wine, for a price of course


which totally explained why the show is a hit.


We laughed, we cried, we loved it.

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

Today's reality


The secret, she told me, is you have to be willing to throw it all out and start again.


Monday, January 1, 2018

Good and plenty

Last night, we were supposed to ring in the new year with friends, but the man and I were exhausted, and I seemed to be coming down with something, my head ached and felt full of wool, and so we stayed home and dozed and woke at midnight to wish each other a happy new year and hold each other close.


Then today, we went to lunch with some of the same friends from last night, and ate butternut squash soup and black bean chili and roasted chicken, and it was a lovely way to begin the year. I always feel so sustained when I am with this crew.

And later, when we got home from lunch, our daughter and her boyfriend came over just because it was a brand new year, and we chatted and laughed and heard about their New Year's Eve, which they spent with my niece and her boyfriend, and a few other friends. They appeared from the photos to have had a rollicking good time. All in all it was a story of good and plentiful food and drink, and the simple pleasure of being together. And these pictures of my daughter and her guy, and my niece in a moment of revelry, both swiped from social media, snaps of joy.



Snowflake

We spent the last day of 2017 with our son tromping through the freezing cold lot of a Bronx car dealership, snow and ice and salt crunching beneath our boots. Our boy ultimately purchased a used 2014 Jeep Compass in pristine condition, clean car fax, certified with one previous owner and no accidents and regular servicing, in an indigo pearl, for a price well below the Kelly Blue Book number, because it was the last day of the year and the dealer wanted to meet annual quotas and also, our sales person was a mensch who really worked with us to make the purchase possible. It's like our boy found the perfect snowflake. He's so relieved, though he's a bit worried about how he will afford the new bills, but then, this child of mine always worries about money.

I am so poor, he wailed one day before Christmas. You are not poor, I told him. You don't have a lot of money right now but don't buy in to that poverty mentality because you have options many don't have. I am poor, he insisted, irritated by my woo woo optimism. I went to my room and got a one hundred dollar bill I keep hidden away for the unexpected, and I went back to where he was sitting on the living room couch and I floated that bill down over his head and said, you are not poor, you have a hundred dollar bill raining down on you and it's all yours. He had the grace and good humor to smile, but he refused to take the money, so I said I would hold it for him should he need it anytime soon, and he said, okay, Mom, I get what you're trying to tell me.

And yesterday, after finding that car online a week ago, and calling and making an appointment for a test drive, and then visualizing the car as his all week, but with the edge of anxiety that is part of who he is, his wish came true. And later he sat between his dad and me, filling out all the paperwork, and his dad and I smiled at each other over his bent head, pleased to be asked to go with him to give our opinion and support, and back home that night, my husband said: We helped our boy buy his first car today. That was a nice way to end the year. 

Thursday, December 28, 2017

Forms of light

I am plugging away at my proposal, winning ground every day. The time crunch is a problem, but the manuscript editing job that is backing into the proposal seems to be delayed, the writer not yet done with the composing. I am grateful for these few extra days of grace. 

I did another interview with my subject that yielded such treasure, and now I just have to figure out the book's chapter outline, since it's not a simple forward-leaning narrative. It's more like personal anecdotes leading to hard-won prescriptive wisdom. I'm not naturally prescriptive in my thought processes, so this is proving tricky to figure out. I concentrate on getting a little further along each day, like the high beams on a car picking out the road immediately ahead in a lake of night. Even though the driver can't see but a few feet of the journey at a time, eventually the car gets to its destination. 

Perhaps I will go and work in that cafe on my block where morning sun pours through the blue-framed doors and brightens the painted sunflowers. Maybe today I will try to navigate in daylight. I'm missing my house buddy, who's back at work. In the four months he was home recovering, his presence grounded me and made me content as I worked. Now it's just me, at the mercy of household distractions, not to mention careening thoughts. Yeah, maybe this is a get out into the world sort of day. 

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