Encyclopedia of Me Monday: M is for…

I can’t choose just one…

Magic and Molly: Is it wrong to love two small, furry animals so much? I hope not.

Music: I’ve loved it every since I can remember, love listening to it, but love making it even more. My best memories (aside from the ones of my family, including the aforementioned Magic and Molly) have to do with music.

Michigan: I know, yesterday I was complaining bitterly about winter here in the Great Lake State. I really do feel betrayed by winter. However….every other season here is beautiful.

Midlife: It’s where I am right now, and nothing’s going to change it, so I have to make the best of it. It also means dealing with another big “M” word in the life of women – menopause. Ick. That’s all I have to say.

Me: Aside from the aforementioned “M” word, the rest of me is doing okay. I know I’ve been lucky, and I’m happy with (most) things going on in my life. What more could I ask? (Well, if you really want to know…)

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: L is for…

“You are such a lucky girl…”

People have been telling me that my entire life.

Lucky to be so smart, pretty, healthy.

Lucky to have such wonderful parents, husband, child.

Lucky to have cute dogs.

Lucky to have (two) nice houses.

Lucky to have a good job.

Lucky.

I don’t dispute my good fortune. But occasionally I do feel anxious that it’s all going to catch up with me, my luck will run out, and disasters will begin raining down on my head.

I’m acquainted with people like that, their lives plagued by one misfortune after another, as if the proverbial black cloud has taken up permanent residence over their head. Why is that? They’re basically good people, who don’t “deserve” the bad things that happen to them anymore than I “deserve” all the good things that have happened to me.

“You make your own luck in this world,” my dad used to say. And I guess many of the good things in my life can be attributed (at least to a degree) to my own efforts. Hard work, clean living, and all that.

But still, there are plenty of people in the world who work hard, respect others, take care of themselves and their families, and seem to have the worst luck in the world.

I guess it’s just one of life’s unexplainables.

I guess I’m just lucky.

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: K is for…

An inordinate amount of time is spent in my kitchen, certainly not because of its charm or efficacy, or because I have such stellar skills to practice there. In fact, the kitchen here is cramped and slightly dark, designed poorly with a door to the backyard right in the middle which takes up much needed space. It’s barely big enough for two people to sit down and eat together, and preparing any kind of complex meal is a challenge with about 12 inches of bare counter space.

But it’s the place we seem to end up most often, whether to make coffee, grab a handful of cookies, let the dogs in or out (that ridiculous door), or just lean against the counter talking.

I harbor dreams about bright, spacious kitchens, with one of those cooking islands in the middle, copper pots hanging overhead. I imagine people gathered around, sipping wine, sneaking bites of whatever gourmet feast I’m preparing for them.

But whenever I’m tempted to blame my lack of culinary prowess on the size of my kitchen, I recall a television special a few years ago with Julia Child and Wolfgang Puck, cooking together in Julia’s home kitchen. These two world reknowned chefs prepared a five course meal in a kitchen no bigger than a breadbox – a galley kitchen with not more than a square foot of empty counterspace anywhere. They were literally bumping into each other at every turn, and by the time they were done, not an inch of space wasn’t occupied by a dirty bowl, pot, or dish.

Yet, they laughed, and talked, and sampled, and finally served a glorious meal.

So no excuses in my kitchen, which is grandiose by those standards.

Then again, I’m not Julia Child.

The kitchen is often called the “heart of the home,” and for all it’s shortcomings, I have to admit my little kitchen often serves that purpose.

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: J is for…

Jumping.

Through hoops.

“How high can I jump” season has begun, with concerts, work ramping up, and, NaNoWriMo beginning in just 10 days. Pressure begins to build, and I went to bed last night with the heavy weight of obligation bearing down on me.

Women’s live are filled with this kind of jumping, aren’t they? We are multi-taskers extraordinaire, flitting from one responsibility to the next, caring for children, parents, homes, careers, paying bills, maintaining social obligations, scheduling doctor appointments…the list goes on and on.

Close your eyes and imagine this mental picture: women throughout the world, jumping through all the hoops necesssary to function in modern life.

You would think none of us would have a minute’s worry about weight, with all that jumping going on.


How about you? How high are you jumping?

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: I is for…

Writers seek it constantly, as do artists, musicians, crafters, ministers, psychologists, doctors, mothers and fathers – every living thing is in need of inspiration.

In Christian teaching, inspiration means “God’s breath,” indicating this genesis of great ideas and emotions has a divine and mystical source. When I’m inspired, whether it’s from the flaming crimson leaves that are beginning to explode across the horizon, a Chopin nocturne, or a well crafted novel, I feel a sense of excitement, an electrical surge of creative energy which seems other-worldly.

Of course, “inspiration” also means to “draw air in and out,” the basic stuff of life for every human being. How awesome is a baby’s first breath on its own, outside its mother’s womb, that first inhale of the world in which it will live, filled with all the mystery of creation and nature.

There are times in life when everything around us is filled with inspiration, and with each breath we inhale ideas, beauty, laughter. At this moment, I am in such a place – whether it’s the beauty of the season, or the promise of the new life that will be entering our family next summer – the world appears vivid with excitement and filled with infinite possibilities.

However, there have been times in my life when the world seemed flat and lifeless, with barely enough air to keep my lungs physically filled, let alone leaving anything left to fill my creative spaces.

I have learned to become cognizant of my inspirational cycles, to accept whatever stage I’m in, knowing that the cycle will one day return me to a different place, with new challenges leading to new mysteries and ideas for exploration.

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: H is for…

I’m a homebody. With each passing year, I become more in love with being in my house, holed up in my cozy office or curled in the corner of my big green chair, puppies snoozing quietly beside me. My home is extremely important to me. It’s my safe haven, my protection against the elements, my security blanket against the world. It’s the place where I’ve had my happiest moments, really, where I’ve spent the most time with the people I love best.

When I moved into this house 31 years ago, I was barely out of high school, newly married, and wildly excited about being independent, free from the smothering atmosphere of my parents home where I was loved just a little bit too much. Finally, I was the master of my own universe, maker of my own meals, keeper of my own hours. I had a home-and a life-of my own.

It’s unusual these days for people to live in one house for such a long time. And, even more unusual is the fact that his house was built by Jim’s parents – he has spent his entire life in this place. When we bought our second home in Florida a few years ago, it was a thrill to have that brand new home of our own, one no one had ever lived in. For a time, I was captivated by the beauty of that new house, and our old home felt obsolete, like a tired old pair of shoes~comfortable, but no longer fashionable.

Lately, I’ve developed a newfound appreciation for this faithful abode. It’s sturdy and strong, if a little worn around the edges. It’s warm and snug in the winter, and the yard fills with breezes and birdsong in the summer. It’s chock full of memories – of little boy laughter, and puppy dog barking. Within its walls are harbored all my hopes and dreams, the evidence of my triumphs and failures, the hopes for victories in the future. It’s where I’ve recovered from illness, cried in despair and grief, rejoiced in good fortune.

It’s home.

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: G is for…

In all honesty, I’m not very goal oriented. I do alright with the minor goals – like getting the laundry done, learning my music for a concert, and finishing my work on time. But I’m not very good at setting those major life goals. In the “olden days” when I was growing up, there wasn’t so much emphasis on goal setting and life planning. You just did what you were supposed to do…finish school, go to work, raise your family, live your life. Not even any of that “live your best life” stuff. Just get it done.

Sometimes I’d like to be more of a goal setter, but it seems that every time I stick a toe in the goal setting water, life (and/or world events) get in the way, putting a monkey wrench in my carefully (and I mean, carefully!) laid plans. A few years ago, we set a goal for Jim to “semi-retire” at age 55, and we would move to Florida. With that in mind, we purchased a home, and then another home in Florida, hoping to use the equity from a booming real estate market to stake our retirement dreams. Well, I’m sure most of you know what’s happened to the real estate market during that time~it’s gone down the tubes, taking our retirement dreams with it.

“Set another goal!” life planners would advise. “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!”

Admittedly, I’m a bit gun shy about goal setting. Personally, some of the best things that have happened in my life were unplanned – getting married was actually never on my list of things to do-until I met Jim, that is. Having children – we had no plans for that either, but God thought otherwise, and thank goodness He did!

So perhaps I’ll just continue on relatively goal-less. With the exception, of course, of making the most of every day, enjoying my friends and family as much as possible, and doing what I can to make the world a little bit better place.

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: F is for Friends

As an only child, I take my friendships pretty seriously. My closest friends become the siblings I will never have, and so I’m grateful for their willingness to share life’s vicissitudes with me.Unlike siblings, however, friendships tend to come and go, don’t they? Right now, I have a core group of three or four “fristers,” women I have been through the fire with in one way or another, and women I know I can hail when the flames start licking at my feet. But, twenty years ago, my inner circle was comprised of completely different women. For various reasons, these women have disappeared from my life.

With one exception, my best friends right now are all significantly older than I. With no exceptions, my relationship with each one developed through music, and each one I considered a mentor before I considered them a friend. Sometimes I wonder what that says about me. Often, I feel that I get more than I give from our relationships. These women are strong, independent, and talented. And, for some reason, they have swooped me under their wing, nurtured my talents, and encouraged me to cultivate my abilities. How lucky am I?

My friend Leigh, at 41 years of age, the youngest of my BFF’s, recently gave birth to her second child. When she told me she was pregnant, she said, “I kept thinking about what you once told me -that one of your biggest regrets in life was having only one child. And I thought I’d better do something about that before it was too late for me.”Wow. That was pretty huge for me, to think that my experience could have made such an impact on another woman’s life. Reflecting on that, and on all that I’ve gained from my relationships with each of these women, I feel humbled by the power of friendship, of what we can give to each other, often without even realizing it. And I also feel a little frightened, knowing that sometimes friendships are vulnerable to loss for all kinds of reasons. Time, distance, illness – all of these can stretch the bonds of friendships, until they eventually break and fade away.

As I age, my hope is to one day influence the life of a younger woman in the way my friends have influenced me – to be a source of inspiration as well as companionship, an educator as well as a buddy, someone to respect and admire as well as someone to gossip and giggle with.

Friends. A good entry to have in the Encyclopedia of Me.

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: E is for Energy

I have been sick this past week, really down and dirty sick, and while I’m beginning to recover some of my equilibrium, I have not yet begun to rebound from a very profound loss of EneRgY. The thought of getting out of my chair takes a supreme amount of effort~really, you would think I was being asked to run a marathon just to get from here to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

I have never considered myself a highly energetic person, for I would choose lying on the sofa with books and bon bons over planting a garden or going dancing. But the past week has brought me to the realization that I had a good bit more energy than I gave myself credit for.

After all, most days I’m up at 6:30 to get in my morning pages and some yoga before work. After working all day, I often go to an evening rehearsal. Or I walk the dogs, do some shopping or cleaning, then finish out the day by writing and blog reading. This week, I was lucky to crawl out of bed by 8, after which I would perform my necessary morning ablutions and then crawl right back in.

No energy.

How I’ve take my energy for granted! just like most other aspects of my good health. I’ve expected it to carry me through work, concerts, chores, social events, all without even a tiny acknowledgement of gratitude.

That ends now. As soon as energy returns to me (and I’m surely hoping it will!) I promise to be a better, kinder steward. I’ll take note when it flags, and give it some rest before it collapses in defeat. I’ll nurture it with plenty of fruits and vegetables, my daily vitamin, and of course, lots and lots of water.

No more thumbing past the entry for the letter E in the encyclopedia of me.

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: D is for…

D O G S !

Magic and Molly, wading in Lake Huron

My dogs are part of my family, and always have been. Ginger, the cocker spaniel we had during my childhood, was the long suffering participant in my efforts at playing school, house, doctor, and every other game that I would have used a younger sibling for (if I had been fortunate enough to have one!) When Jim and I were first married, we practiced our parenting skills with Buffy, the cocker puppy we brought home on our first anniversary.

After we lost Buffy, we went almost 15 years without getting another dog. Why, I’ll never know. Magic came to me from a friend, who bred her own Shih Tzu in 2002, and offered me “pick of the litter.” We fell so in love with this breed, that it didn’t take long to decide we wanted another, and so Molly came to live with us in August of 2004.

Naturally, I think my dogs are the cutest, smartest, most adorable dogs ever ~ sort of the same way I feel about my kid! But I love all dogs, and if there’s one thing I cannot abide in any way, shape, or form, it’s cruelty to animals.

So, it’s love me, love my dogs…or hit the highway!