I READ, THEREFORE I AM

I have had a lifelong love affair with books and magazines.  I began reading when I was quite young, around 5 years old, and it became my passion, which has never waned.  The excitement of a new book that I've been looking forward to is still there for me, and I follow certain authors and wait anxiously for their newest releases.  Some of my favorite writers include Alice Hoffman, John Irving (two of the most memorable characters in fiction - Garp and Owen Meaney), Pat Conroy, Ann Tyler, and Richard Russo, just to name a few.  


I have a fairly narrow scope of books that interest me, which sometimes I try to change up, but it generally doesn't work.  I never read biographies or autobiographies, except on rare occasion, as I find them a little slow and predictable.  However, I love a good memoir, especially if its funny - David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs come to mind, with their dark humor and families filled with insanity.  Recently I read Tina Fey's memoir  "Bossypants" and laughed out loud.  My main interest is contemporary fiction, the newer the better.  I love Magical Realism (Garcia Marquez, Alice Hoffman, and the little known Nicholas Christopher) and I also love stories of quirky and odd people (Wally Lamb, Mary Gaitskill).  While I was in college, majoring in English, I read a lot of the classics - John Steinbeck, F. Scott Fitzgerald, John Cheever, William Faulkner - and though I enjoyed them, especially Steinbeck, they didn't really hold my interest the way contemporary fiction does. 


Books are a reliable and available companion, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. As I was growing up, when things got complicated and I moved from school to school far too often, I would turn to my books - and my Archie comic books and Mad Magazines - to keep me company while I waited to feel like I had a place in the world again.  I was never unhappy when I was reading.  I would read in bed, in the car, in the bathtub, at the dinner table, anyplace I could.


My idea of pure torture is to be on a plane with nothing to read.
  


In a good news/bad news way, I read really, really quickly.  Sometimes too quickly - a good book can be finished far too soon, and then I'm ruined for a while for any other books.  The most recent novel  to do that to me was Ann Patchett's "State of Wonder."  It took me almost a month to pick up another book.


One of the best things about the empty nest is having long stretches of time to read as much as I want to.  I have to admit, the distractions of the internet and tv can eat into that free time, but still, when I dive into a book, it's difficult to get me to come up for air.  My kids and Peter all allowed me that escape - even when my kids were toddlers, they would leave me alone when I was reading the LA Times in the morning.  It was actually pretty remarkable.


As I continue to blog, I'll share some of my favorite books with you from time to time.  If you love to read, like I do, let me know and we can compare notes.  I'm always looking for people to connect with about my passion for a good book!


Recommendations:
The Leftovers by Tom Perrota


The Paris Wife by Paula McLain


Freedom by Jonathan Franzen 


Loving Frank by Nancy Horan


What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty  (reading currently!)

If you click on the link for a particular book or author, it will take you to Amazon.com.

GETTING LUCKY

Lucky me.  Last night, we went to Islands restaurant for dinner with two other couples.  We've been there so many times I couldn't even estimate - it's close to home, inexpensive, and decent food. While we were sitting in our booth, the manager stood up on a chair and announced that, since the restaurant was celebrating it's 9th anniversary, everyone in the restaurant at that moment would get all of their food on the house.  Lucky us!  We of course ordered way more than we normally would have- appetizers, salads, desserts...we were all so excited that we had gotten so lucky!  Free dinner?  What a great surprise.


But then, I started to wonder...was this it?  Is this my lucky day?  Does winning this free meal mean I've used up my lucky points with the universe?  We debated this a little.  Should we run out and buy lottery tickets, because our luck was on an upswing?  Or did this mean that our luck had peaked, and this was, as Helen Hunt said in her Oscar winning movie, "As good as it gets"?  Does luck come in threes, as one person suggested?  Or are some people just inherently lucky?


I don't think I'm a particularly lucky person.  I don't win raffles, or the lotto, and over the years on my trips to Las Vegas I've only won big a few times, including $1600 on a Wheel of Fortune slot machine.  I don't believe in lucky charms, or lucky days, or lucky numbers, though I do have a few superstitions.


But in thinking further about being lucky, I have to believe that, trite as it may sound, we often make our own luck.  Meeting different people, going to new places, connecting with Twitter or Facebook friends, all of those things open us up to new experiences, broaden our perspective, and give us opportunities for good things to happen.  Expanding our worlds is the best way to increase our chances of luck finding us. 


We paid it forward, and left our waitress an absurdly large tip...making it her lucky day too.  That felt really, really good.


Lucky me?  I'd have to say yes.  With family I love, and friends to go to dinner with on a Thursday night, there's not much more I could ask for.  Knock on wood!

THE ART OF DOING NOTHING

One of my favorite televison shows currently is "The Big C".  If you have Showtime, and you haven't watched it yet, you really should.  Laura Linney, Oliver Platt, and the rest of the cast have created such believable, likeable, yet real characters, all of whom are dealing with not only Laura Linney's character's cancer, but the troubles in their own lives as well.  It's well-written, funny, heartbreaking and entertaining all at once.











But this is not about "The Big C," it's about something Alan Alda's character said on Monday night's show that really stuck with me and made me think about aspects of the empty nest that are the most difficult to figure out.  Alda's character is Linney's doctor, and during a dinner at his house, he tells her and her husband about what he loves about Italy, including the Italian philosophy of l’arte di non fare niente, which translated means the art of doing nothing.  As any mother will tell you, this is a nearly impossible task while raising children.  Even when it seems like you're doing nothing, you're still thinking about something, whether it's  a task to be done, an emotion to be felt, or a plan to be made.  It literally never ends.  I always felt, while I was raising my kids, as though each of them were sitting on one of my shoulders all the time - and I say that with all the love in my heart.  Once you become a mother, you are never really alone, even when your children aren't nearby - they dwell in your mind, whether through memories or current moments or future imaginings.  So to learn the art of doing nothing, to empty your mind and just be quiet,  is a daunting task for anyone, but especially parents.


I love the idea of it - to sit, idly, sip a cup of coffee, stare out the window, maybe doze off - but even when I do those things, my mind continues to be doing something, always.  The closest I can come to the art of doing nothing is to get completely absorbed in a book, which is the best way for me to exit the present and empty my mind of all thoughts - in effect, doing nothing.


How do others do it?  I know many people who find that nothing place in their minds by exercising, and others who have hobbies they are passionate about.  But to sit, and do nothing...this is a foreign concept to most Americans.  Maybe it's something we should all take the time to try and do, a few minutes each day - maybe nothing is the something we all need.

THE PACK IS BACK - SIGH.

Last night in my house life began anew. The Green Bay Packers were back on tv.  Peter sat down to watch his beloved team, and I tried, really I did, to watch with him - I could tell that he wanted to talk about the plays, the players, the emotional intensity of seeing "his" Packers again, after many football-less months.  But I just don't get it.  Saying this as a member of Peter's family is punishable by banishment from Christmas morning - they are a deeply committed group of Green Bay fans, having grown up in Milwaukee.  Vince Lombardi is their hero, Bret Favre has deeply disappointed them, and they have attended 2 of the last 3 Superbowls the Packers played in - they only missed the third because they thought they would buy scalped tickets at the San Diego stadium, and that didn't work out so well for them.


I have never really understood the intensity with which people connect to certain teams.  I get the love of the game, the thrill of the great pass, the heroic interception - but watching my normally even-tempered husband completely lose it if the Packers don't play well is a mystery to me.  And, of course, he's passed this on to our kids, especially my son, who is a huge Packers fan, though he's never stepped foot in Wisconsin.


I am not completely immune to the excitement of a great football game - I loved every minute of watching my son play in high school, seeing him and his teammates working together. There was nothing quite as exciting for us as seeing his face after winning a hard-fought competition.  But for me, it was about knowing the players, how hard they worked, how much time and energy it took for them to be ready to go on the field and succeed.  It was personal.  This connection to a team filled with players I don't know, in a place I've never been - I just don't get it.


Competition has never held much interest for me - I don't know why.  When my kids were young and played sports in the community leagues - Adam played baseball, Katie played softball - I would cringe at the parents yelling and criticizing the players, as if their children's lives depended on winning of losing.  For some, I suppose it did, as the parents pinned their hopes on college scholarships based on their children's athletic skills.  I just wanted to see the kids have fun and feel good about being part of a team, but that inevitably was the last thing a lot of the parents - and kids - cared about.  Winning was great, and losing was awful.

Lambeau

Of course there's a lot more riding on the Packers winning their games than there was on the 10 and under all-star softball team winning theirs.  Football is big business, and keeping the fans engaged and excited is what drives the economics of sports - I can't even count how many Packers t-shirts, mugs, jerseys and, yes, cheesehead hats we've bought over the years. And ultimately, watching football is a communal experience best shared with other fans - and that's where I feel like I've let MY teammate down.  Because try as I might, I just can't find it in me to get passionate about much about the Packers - except of course for our dog Lambeau, named after the Packers home stadium.  Now there's something for me to love!

A COMMUNITY IN MY HEART

A year ago today, there was an accident on a nearby freeway, and a friend of ours was killed.  It was a terrible, terrible thing - he left a wife and two teenage children, a large circle of friends and extended family, all of whom were shocked at his untimely death.  But that story isn't mine to tell - it belongs to those closest to him.  What I do want to tell you is the way our little community came together to support, help, mourn, and ultimately remember with love this man we lost too soon.


My neighborhood is small.  Though we are part of a very large suburban sprawl, this is a very insular place.  With only one high school in our community, it's easy to get very involved very quickly, sometimes to a level that can be intrusive or overwhelming.  No matter where you go, if you've lived here a while, you'll run into someone you know - the local fitness center is practically a social club, and grocery shopping can take twice as long as you plan if you run into a few acquaintances. The high school football games are packed every week with parents, alumni, and students.  This is what drew us here 20 years ago, and this is what sometimes makes me want to flee - though I can't really imagine ever leaving here.  This is home.

While thinking about this day a year ago, I see so clearly a parallel to the tragic events of 9/11,  the anniversary of which we are all thinking about this week.  I remember the strong sense of patriotism and compassion that came to define our country for a time because of the destroyed towers, and how everyone was a little kinder and a lot more emotional for a long while.  The same sort of thing happened here in my community.  This loss, so shocking and unforeseen, had a very similar effect on all of us who know this family, and also many who didn't, but were touched just the same.

 When the accident happened, it was as if every person who ever knew this man or his family was compelled to do something...anything.  From bringing home cooked meals to buying dog food, his family was taken care of and comforted  by the closest of friends and distant acquaintances.  I watched it happen and participated in it all with such a sense of gratitude and amazement - all petty differences fell away, and various groups mixed and mingled each evening at the family's home, offering comfort to each other, to the family, and probably to themselves most of all.  Because what struck us all was, of course, that it could have happened to any of us. Truth is, it's just luck and good timing that it hasn't happened to any of us before or since then.


The most touching thing for me was seeing the children's friends gathering around each of them, as if to form a human wall against the pain they were feeling.  They had all grown up together...most had known each other since kindergarten.  The level of commitment and caring these teenagers showed was beyond anything any of us could have expected, and it was a beautiful thing to witness and, by being around them, be a part of, too.  

 There have been many times over the years when I've wondered if we made the right decision about where to raise our family - sometimes, it seemed as if this little place presented too narrow a view of the world, and other times, when my kids were struggling, it offered little in the way of options as far as friends were concerned - but a year ago today, and for some time after, I knew without a doubt that this community, the people and the sense of closeness and familiarity, were a gift we were fortunate to have been given.  We miss this friend, especially today, but he will always be part of this place, just as those who died on 9/11 remain part of our country's collective memory, whether we knew them or not.

THE ROCK DRESSED IN ANIMAL PRINT

Let me tell you about one of the great blessings of my life.


I don't use that word "blessing" lightly.  I'm not a particularly religious person, and so when I say blessing, I mean something incredibly special.  I would never say "bless you" to anyone, except after they've sneezed, and that's only to be polite.


The blessing I refer to is my grandmother, Amy.  That's what I've always called her - Amy.  Legend has it that when I, her first grandchild,  was born, and she was just 48, there were so many other "grands" that were still alive that she became Amy because there were no other names left - but I think it's really because she was (and still is) such a young spirit.  Last year we sat together and marveled at the fact that, at that moment, she was twice my age.  How many grandmothers and granddaughters get to have that experience?   I am so very lucky, grateful and yes, blessed, that at 97, she is still here, still sharp and witty and smart, still on the other end of the phone when I call her, ready to gossip or chat, just glad to hear my voice. She has always been my rock.

Amy and me - 1962

If I told you she was loving, and kind, and a great cook, and a wonderful seamstress, that would be true - but it would be true of a lot of grandmothers, wouldn't it. She loves each of her 3 children, their spouses, 6 grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren with all of her heart.  What makes Amy a blessing in my life is that we are, and always have been, connected in such a deep way that there's no real word for our relationship - maybe she's my grandfriendconfidante?  I don't know.  She has been there for every major event in my life, from my first real memory (2 years old, sitting between her and my grandfather - Paul - the night my brother was born), to the weeks after the birth of each of my children, when she came and stayed with me, cooking and fretting, sending me off for naps and answering the phone in her distinctive, singsong, "hello!!!"  


  She has a critical eye, but a loving heart - we dress to impress her, all of us, and stand a little taller when she tells us we look beautiful, because she is so beautiful.  Her aesthetic has infused my home in so many ways - there is animal print in every room, and toile on my Bergere chairs, just as she would have chosen for herself.  She was an interior designer with a love of all things French, and her house was always  fascinating to me, filled with unique objects and books to be read, a beautifully lit place I still go to in my mind when I want to remember the feeling of complete happiness.


Recently, when I was feeling confused about to what to do with my life now that my kids have left the nest and my full-time mom job has ended, this is what she told me:


"Enjoy the peace.  Enjoy the stillness.  You've earned it."


And so I have tried to do that, to be in the world as she has always been- appreciating the moment, loving those who are special, and taking it all in with so much interest.  This, I believe, is what has kept her here with us for so long.

Amy - May, 2011

For many years when Amy would come to visit, Peter would dread the day when she would leave, because I would completely fall apart like a little girl, crying and missing her so.  He would look at me, helpless to do anything, but even as I felt sad, and wished she didn't have to leave, I knew, and still know, how blessed I am to love someone that much.

MY NOT TO DO LIST

Now that the nest is empty again, there are a few things I want to do.  Not that I couldn't do these things when the kids were home this summer, but you know how it is - the list gets made and then remade, and then things drop off the list, and eventually it's as if I never wanted to do those things at all.  


When I work with organizing clients, they inevitably all have lists, or scraps of paper, or vague memories of things they want to get done, things that they are embarrassed to admit they haven't accomplished - which they shouldn't be.  The truth is, if it doesn't really matter to you, it won't happen.  For example, on my list is cleaning the grout in my kid's bathroom with this nifty little dispenser of grout cleaner I bought at the hardware store a (long) while back. It sort of looks like a Sharpie, so I thought it might be kind of fun to use.  But you know what, every time I even think about cleaning that grout, I get depressed, because I know its going to take a really long time, and then I get annoyed, because I'll never use that little bottle of cleaner that's sitting under my sink.  So really, the grout doesn't need to be cleaned that badly.

David Bromstad - Awesomeness

Another item on my list of things I want to do but probably never will is paint my office.  Part of me thinks this is something I actually could do, especially if I'm in a decorating haze after spending a lot of time watching HGTV, particularly David Bromstad and Candice Olson.  I am addicted to HGTV - it's sort of my middle-aged lady version of porn.  Peter calls it "SharonTV,"  but since my initials are SHG we should call it SHGTV!  Anyway, my office isn't very big, and with a ladder and some help from Peter, I bet we could do a pretty good job - he's a handy guy.  But then I look around at all the stuff we'd have to move, the holes we'd have to patch, the blinds we'd have to take down...and, well,  I guess it just isn't that badly in need of painting (though actually, it is).

Here's another good one.  I have a pretty substantial stockpile of emergency supplies, which seems to be something a lot of people put off getting done - though there's usually a flurry of runs to the hardware store and Costco after a natural disaster occurs (tip: keep a case of water per person on hand at all times).  What I haven't done that I keep meaning to do, something I've read about countless times over the years, is take photos of all of my valuables and upload them to my computer, which has a backup on the internet. ( By the way, this is something you should do if you haven't already - find an online backup service like Carbonite or SOS and sign up today.  You'll be glad one day!)  I've been meaning to do this for, I don't know, 20 years?  Probably not going to happen.




Today is half over already, so the chances of me getting anything on my list done are pretty slim.  But at least I got this blog written!

THE RETURN OF THE EMPTY NEST

Tomorrow, my daughter Katie returns to Boston University to start her senior year.  The fact that she's a senior in college is almost too much for me to believe.  Not that I ever had any doubt that she'd succeed in college - she's the kind of person who sets her mind  on a goal and makes it happen.  And the amount of maturing and growing she's done in the past 3 years has been right on course with what I hoped for her - she is really becoming a fully formed adult, which makes me happy and proud, but also, today, very nostalgic.  











My brother has seven year old twins, and he said something to me the other day about how hard it is for him to imagine them at Katie's and Adam's ages - 21 and 19.  I told him its almost as hard for me to believe that my kids were ever as young as his - that's what time does to us.  I remember the sweetness of summer with them at that time of their lives - the days of going to camp, then coming home and jumping in the pool, the wide open feeling of July and August, when everything moved more slowly and I could just be with them, watch them, no lessons or school or homework, no baseball or softball practice - just the kids, here, with me.  This summer I had a chance to do that again, in a way.  Adam came home from Tucson and worked, but he was here most evenings for dinner, and we would sit around and talk, watch some tv, just be together, which was such a nice feeling - no worries about college for a brief time, just family and friends and grilled steaks.  Then for a few days they were both home - and that was really something.  They bickered like they were kids, we went out for a lovely dinner one night - but it was brief, and bittersweet, since they would both be leaving again soon.



Tomorrow, when Katie gets on the plane to go to Boston, we will once again be empty-nesters, starting the process of adjusting to the quiet of just two of us once more.  While I was grocery shopping yesterday I felt a longing for those summer days when they were little, when I was buying juice boxes and gummy fruits and grapes and pasta salad, knowing they'd come home hungry and thirsty.  I miss those days when they were still young enough to be thrilled with little things like a stop at Blockbuster for a new movie to watch, or a visit from their grandmother on a warm Saturday.  Now it seems to take so much to get them really excited, but who can blame them?  Their worlds have grown so much since those summer days, and that's the way it should be.  But still, sitting together and watching "Jeopardy" can make all of us feel, for a little while, like we're still that family - which we will always be, whenever we can.

WEIRD, BUT NICE

After reading my blog, a friend asked me "is the empty nest weird?"  And it struck me that weird is the perfect word to describe my life without my kids in the house.  Not bad, not lonely, not sad, not even empty...but definitely weird.  Its as big of a change in our lives as it was when our first child was born - nearly everything we had been doing was no longer relevant.  Our points of reference, our focus, it all shifted.  Although the parenting never ends - your kids never stop needing your guidance, even if they don't know it all the time - the day-to-day-ness of it is over.  For me, as a stay at home mom, the change was as subtle as a ton of bricks falling on my head. BOOM your full-time job is DONE!!!


To start, its so incredibly clean.  I mean, other than a little dust here and there, there's no more random stuff lying around - wet towels, empty water bottles, dirty dishes, just to name a few - these things have disappeared from my house.  Its orderly, organized, and neat, which makes me so happy, I can't even tell you.  But its weird, because the detritus of my kids lives, though incredibly irritating, was somehow comforting to me - they were here, and this was proof of it.  Its as if, other than in their bedrooms, they never lived here at all.


Also, its so quiet.  No loud music, no blaring tvs.  I know this sounds obvious, but its really symbolic, too - when they come home for vacations, there's a rise in the decibel level that is, in a way, shocking.  And this leads to another thing that I've come to realize - I've definitely gotten older.  Obvious, right?  But remember back to when you were young, and think about how there was always some noise in your world - I mean, who ever drove in their car without the radio on when we were young?  I savor the quiet, though I know others in my situation can't stand this part - it feeds into my appreciation of solitude.  I don't feel the need to fill the quiet with noise...at least not all the time.


There's a lot less people around.  If my son Adam, the last to leave the nest,  had friends over, which he did A LOT, it wasn't just one or two.  His group of 8 traveled in a pack, and if one was here, they all were.  I love Adam's friends...they were a fixture in our lives all through high school, and I enjoyed nothing more than making a big pan of baked ziti for them and watching them demolish it.  If there's anything I miss, its having all those boys come in and out of my house, ransacking my kitchen, sitting in our jacuzzi, and just laughing and yelling at each other.  Peter and I spent many a night sleeping with earplugs when they were here, and there were countless mornings when they were sleeping on every available bed and sofa.


I buy way less food.  Enough said.


The disconnect from the community is probably the weirdest thing of all.  After years of volunteering for every activity they participated in, it was a huge loss to suddenly not be part of the football boosters or the show choir parents group.  That was, for me,  the most rewarding part of being a parent - seeing my children working hard at something they loved, then watching them do it - Adam on the offensive line, Katie singing and dancing.  It was SO MUCH FUN.  I miss that a lot.  And the truth is, as soon as they graduate from high school, you're completely finished with it all.  I have to say, though,  whenever we see parents out and about wearing "Los Al Softball" or "Los Al Football" t-shirts, we have to laugh...it was kind of ridiculous, how completely we were consumed by our children's activities, but that's just the way things are done around here.  Which leads me to the weirdest thing of all:

Happy 22nd Anniversary! 8/26/11

We have a lot of free time.  


Our weekends are wide open - free to do whatever we want to do with hours previously spent watching, coaching, driving, feeding, cheering and adoring our kids.  You'd think we'd be running here and there, doing all the things we never got to do - movie matinees, museum trips, walks on the beach - who knows.  But the truth is, most of the time,  we like being home, in the clean, quiet house, sometimes not talking for hours, but just knowing that its the two of us - and its really, really nice.  Weird, but nice.

THE GREAT INDOORS

No one who knows me would ever, by any stretch of the imagination, describe me as "outdoorsy."  In fact, I am very much "indoorsy."  From my love of reading to my amateur passion for interior design, my aversion to the sun and my great appreciation for air conditioning, its pretty clear that I belong inside most of the time.  I have tried over my lifetime to become more appreciative of nature, of hiking and water sports, but its been more or less a big fail every time.  As a child I went away to summer camp every year for eight weeks, and though I swam in the lake when I was supposed to, I was never, ever able to get up on waterskis.  My humiliation knew no bounds.


Once, Peter and I went on a walking trip through Napa Valley, which was a fantastic experience...except for the walking. The food was incredible, the hotels were luxurious, and of course the wine was, well, intoxicating.   I was terrified the day we were to hike 2 miles to the top of a mountain - not a terribly steep or difficult climb, but nevertheless I was overwhelmed with fear that I wouldn't make it.  Of course I did make it, but to be honest, it didn't really make me all that happy or proud - I was just relieved.  We sat at the top of the mountain and took in the views, which were pretty spectacular - and all I could think about was the chore of walking DOWN the mountain after lunch.  So, see, not so outdoorsy.

It's kind of too bad that I live in Southern California. Though there's a lot to love about it here, it is just about the most outdoorsy place there is - which for me, can be a challenge.  I love when it rains here - its a treat for me to have a day when staying in the house with a stack of magazines or going to a movie is perfectly acceptable.  I sometimes feel inadequate because of my lack of desire to get sand between my toes or walk the trails at one of our regional parks, but then I go in my backyard, sit under the umbrella, open a book, and read.  For me, that's about as outdoorsy as it gets.

PAST AND PRESENT MEET FOR LUNCH

Me, 1981

 I recently had lunch with a boyfriend from college.  Another friend of ours was there too, which probably helped to make me feel a little less nervous before we met.  After all, I hadn't seen or talked to him in nearly 30 years.  Of course, like most of the population, we had reconnected on facebook, but in person is a whole different experience.   Since we are both happily married, there was nothing the least bit inappropriate (though I can see how it could be for those who are unhappy...so sentimental!), and  it turned out to be a really lovely afternoon for us. We took turns sharing the paths our lives had taken, the way we'd gotten where we are - and I think each of us was happy to be able to report that we were, to be trite, in a good place.   The best part for me was knowing that I am still 19 in someone else's memory - still the girl I often wish I could go back to and say "ENJOY being young and effortlessly attractive, don't rush so fast into the future, and be grateful for the experience of being in college, and having your whole life ahead of you."  Come to think of it, this is what I tell Katie all the time!  

San Diego State University

Before we met for lunch, I spent a lot of moments remembering that time in my life, a time I have lost track of as other, bigger moments have happened to me along the way.  Snippets of things came back to me, things I had forgotten about - but mostly what I remembered was the feeling of being at the edge of my seat a lot of the time, anticipating the next event - party, road trip, whatever - a feeling that is exclusively the territory of youth.  Though I did get a little sad, I also found myself feeling profoundly grateful for the stability and security that my life now gives me.  Yes, it was always pretty thrilling back then to meet a new boy and wonder what would happen next, but what I was always searching for is exactly what I have today - a husband I can count on all the time, no matter what, to be there for me, to whom I will be married 22 years this Friday.  So thank you, old boyfriend, for sharing an afternoon, reminiscing, and sending me home knowing that nothing could be better than what I have now. And I'm so glad you're happy too. 

FINGERS AND TOES GO AHHH

I go for a mani/pedi every two weeks or so, which means my nails look good for a week then not so good for a week.  I'm not terribly vain, so it doesn't bother me too much.   I actually love the smell of the nail salon - the mix of lotions, acetone, and polish, which mean relaxation to me.   The place I go to get my nails done is called Happy Nails - a great name for a nail shop - descriptive, accurate, and inviting.  I am fascinated by the nail salon culture, which is utterly female.  There are two groups in this girly place - the customers and the technicians.  I don't do anything at all while I'm getting my nails done, except watch the people, which is one of my favorite things to do anyplace, anytime - if you're a people watcher, you never get bored. There's a wide variety of women that come in, from young moms with their little girls (do you want a flower with that?) to the elderly women who live nearby in Leisure World, accompanied by their caregivers.  Its inspiring to see these senior citizens, using walkers, canes, or holding on to their companions, making the effort to feel beautiful and cared for, just as its delightful to see the little girls getting purple toenails and pink fingernails, so excited yet sitting still, fingers spread apart, so as not to smudge the polish.  The techs are busy, filing and lathering and massaging gently, all the while chattering happily in Vietnamese amongst themselves as they work. I'm curious about the circuitous paths their lives have taken that led them to this little place in my neighborhood, but I don't ask - I like the anonymity and quiet too much. 

ANGRY BIRDS AND LIFE LESSONS

When Peter bought his ipad, I bet he never thought that I would take it away and never give it back.  Actually, I never really thought I'd have much interest in it - after all, we have plenty of desktops and laptops to go around.  Unfortunately for him, among the other great uses I found for this amazing gadget was the insanely addictive game Angry Birds.  Katie introduced me to it, though I don't think she knew what she was doing at the time...turning her mother into an obsessed pig killer, slinging those birds over and over into the sky.  I play a lot, mostly when I'm watching the news (it keeps me from focusing too much on what's really going on in the world).  Though it may seem like a complete waste of time to many, I've found a kind of Zen space when I'm in the world of exploding flying objects. I do a lot of thinking while I play.  And in a way, I've learned a lot from this silly little game, about patience and taking my time.  Some of the levels are easy, and I've mastered them quickly, while some are nearly impossible, and have taken literally hours to complete.  Again, I know this sounds like a waste of time, but stay with me here.  In my real world - the world without the sound of birds going "ca ca ca ca" in my ears - I'm learning to wait and let things happen in a genuine and organic way.  No business explodes overnight, certainly not an organizing business, which can be a luxury for many small businesses, no matter how much they may need my help.  Children don't become responsible young adults just because they leave home...they need to find their way on THEIR terms, and we need to give them the room to do so, painful as that may be.  People don't always show up right when you need them - but if they love you, they come around sooner or later, and I am so thankful for that. And sooner or later, those Angry Birds will kill all the nasty little pigs, and on to the next level I'll go.

BLAME IT ON THE DOLLHOUSE

colorized!

When I was 5 years old, my parents got me a doll house for Christmas (yes, we were a Jewish family that celebrated Christmas, but just for the gifts...a whole other blog topic).  I thought that doll house was the most magical thing I'd ever seen.  I spent hours in the pretend world of the perfect little family and their pretty little furniture.  The future was written on those teeny tiny walls - my goal in life was to have a family, a house, and the imaginary life I saw in those miniature rooms.  Though not everything in my life went smoothly (honestly, whose life does?), this dream did.  Peter and I created the doll house family that I had imagined when I was five - "a boy for you and a girl for me," a la the song Tea for Two.  We bought the doll house - well, it needed a lot of work, but it was our doll house nonetheless. Here I was able to indulge my compulsion to organize, sorting itty bitty socks and color coordinating closets.  

FALL, 1993

JUST A THOUGHT

ADAM

KATIE

My first entry on my blog. If you're wondering about the name of my blog, emptyhousefullmind, let me explain. After 20 years of being a full-time, stay-at-home, carpooling, laundry folding, volunteering, grocery shopping, care taking and most of all fully enjoying it all mother, my job ended. Ok, maybe it didn't end completely - with my kids Katie and Adam both in college, there are plenty of phone calls, BBMs, texts, facebook chats, google chats, and a few emails here and there to keep me fairly involved in their lives. Over the past year, while Adam slogged through the muck of learning to be a college student during his freshman year, coming up for air every so often to check in with me and his dad and relate the horrors of being a student and the escapades of parties at University of Arizona, I learned the value of distance and the terror of the ringing telephone in the middle of the night (MOM! This girl is PASSED OUT! We need to call an AMBULANCE!). At the same time, Katie spent her spring semester in London, and practically every weekend was traipsing off to some country or another (MOM! The pasta at this restaurant in Florence LITERALLY made me CRY it was so AMAZING!!!), while my husband Peter and I cut coupons and played with our dog Lambeau and went to movies and mostly just enjoyed the quiet and tried to save money. It was a difficult year for me (and when I say year I mean SCHOOL year...do we ever stop thinking that way?) in a lot of ways, as I had never in my life given any thought to what the heck I would do after my job as a full-time mother was over. I suppose I had some vague idea that Peter and I would give lovely dinner parties, go on weekend getaways, do a little shopping, a little napping...I don't know. What I didn't count on was my need to DO something!