It’s 7:55 in the morning. Sunday. Since getting out of bed, I’ve taken Jeter out, sorted laundry and started a load in the wash, made cupcakes (from a box), waffles (from scratch) and changed the sheets. Is this normal? I mean, on my day “off?”
As the cupcakes cool and the laundry spins, I read the paper(s) and have a second cup of coffee. This is my time to breathe.
The rest of my day involves more laundry, frosting those cupcakes, some house cleaning, organizing myself (and everyone who depends upon me) for a quick trip to the city, driving three 12 year-olds to a climbing gym for a little belated birthday celebration and a longish run. And, as I look out the window and see the cloudless blue sky, all I can do is wish that there were more hours in the day to live.
Yeah, you. My reader. It’s been more than 7 years, 2 domains and a divorce since DelSo was born. Over the years I’ve shared a lot of my life and self here, in print. You, as a reader, have come to know me on some level from my words. What makes you return here (assuming you’re not new around these parts) and read what I write? Let me remind you of some of what I’ve related to you in the hope that you might feel inclined to share with me – who you are, reader? Why are you here?
There have been so many miles – more plane rides than I could have ever imagined, along with runs and races and road trips. I’ve explored cities with my boys and my girlfriends and solo. My feet have run in a half dozen different countries and probably about the same number of states.
My home has evolved from a house with two full-time parents to one of three part-time children. There have been physical improvements, rooms repurposed and painted, new rugs and furniture rearranged. It feels different. After a refinance or two, I know it’s mine.
I’ve written about books I’ve read and movies and concerts I’ve seen. Increasingly, politics and my dismay with our current leadership have been topics I’ve felt compelled to write about.
My children and the challenges of being a parent frequently provide fodder for posts. While the joys outweigh the frustrations, parenthood remains a roller coaster ride that keeps me on the edge of my seat with a scream threatening to escape. It’s a heart racing ride.
Sometimes I cook or bake and post recipes and photos of the fruits of my labors. Food and wine are a big part of my life and I’ve happily shared my experiences with you. Oh – and there’s that wine bar that I own.
There have been times when I wrote with sadness or anger, but I think I mostly write from a place of understanding and acceptance. Balance and moderation are woven throughout much of what I write.
Health and wellness have been covered and the miracle of menopause has been mentioned. The heartbreak of addiction and the threat of cancer have been present. I’ve learned to ski and have found bliss in pigeon pose in a room heated to 100+ degrees.
It’s all here – my life. Not perfect, not necessarily what I ever imagined it to be, but a life that I feel grateful for in a city that I have come to love.
Will you tell me why you visit my life?
Filed under aging, Albany, baking, Boston, Boys, California, cancer, Cape Cod, Chicago, concerts, Cooking, D.C., DelSo, drinking, Eating, Europe, Events, Exercise, family, favorites, Food, France, friends, Germany, house, Ireland, Italy, Local, London, marriage, Martha's Vineyard, medical, moms, Movies, musings, Nashville, NYC, Observations, politics, Portugal, Random, Recipes, relationships, Restaurants, road trips, running, Saratoga, SPAC, Spain, travel, vacation, Washington, x-country skiing, yoga
Confession: I have too much stuff, particularly clothing. These days when I look at the two-sided garment rack which is stationed outside of the closet large enough for me to step inside of, I feel weighed down and vaguely embarrassed. It’s too much.
I’ve defended my consumerism with numerous excuses – I lost weight and needed clothes that fit, I must have to different wardrobes to meet the needs of both my day and evening jobs, I rarely pay full price for anything and many of the pieces come from consignment shops or clearance sales, I consign my clothes a couple of times a year…
Whatever. In a world where too many have nothing, I have too much.
But, I’m feeling stuck. My avenue for consigning my clothes has hit a dead end since the store I previously worked with is no longer selling clothing. The idea of exploring other options overwhelms me right now and finding an alternate sales venue feels impossible in my current, crazed life. Maybe you have a suggestion?
Since I haven’t been able to dispose of my clothing without feeling as if I wasted money with my initial purchase, I’m working to commit to not buying new garments. Even when the sale is tremendous and the item “perfect,” I’m walking away empty handed. Buying new things isn’t filling me with joy right now, so why bother?
As weeks in a new year quickly move along, I feel myself trying to get another angle on lightening my load. Maybe It’s time to take an afternoon to make a few piles of clothes which I am willing to weed from my wardrobe, no matter the cost. You know, sorting everything into categories such as Not Worn in a Year/No Longer Fits or Flatters/In Need of Tailoring or Cleaning or Repair and then being relentless.
The idea of actually doing this is growing more exciting than formidable and I’m almost there. I’ll let you know how it goes.
On my very first trip to Europe, in 1988, I made a new friend, A. He was wearing leather bike gear, with a scruffy face and charming English accent. The attraction was immediate. We made a connection that led to numerous transatlantic flights and were lucky enough to explore a few amazing cities together. It’s a time in my life that I recall warmly.
The last time I saw my friend, A, was almost 25 years ago, in London. He helped sort out accommodations for my brother and me and we got to spend an afternoon or two together, along with his towheaded two year-old son. He was married then and seemed contented. Again, happy memories of a lifetime ago.
We maintained a correspondence, old school, with paper, envelopes and stamps, for quite a few years after that last in person visit. Although the details are hazy after so many years, I recall receiving a letter telling me he was sick, maybe a brain tumor and the prognosis was dire. It was goodbye.
Life was wild with young children and new careers, and I accepted the news with sad resignation, too busy to immediately follow-up. Of course, I’ve wondered over the years about him, and his family, and have taken half-hearted stabs at trying to locate him in the digital age. I looked for an obituary online but never found a word about them. Until last week.
After happening upon a memento from a trip I had once taken with my departed friend, I impulsively searched Facebook for his name and came up empty. I changed my search to the name of A’s son. Immediately, a photo appeared – A’s face, but a version far younger than I ever had known A to be. His son.
I clicked on the link and found the obituary, not of A, but his son. Oh, no. The tow -headed boy had grown into a too young to die young man. Almost 7 years ago A’s son had died while serving in Afghanistan. There were photos of the funeral and I saw an older than I had ever imagined A. I struggled with sadness and relief.
Sometimes the real heartbreak comes long after the breakup.
- Troy has some really nice homes (while running a 5K).
- Apparently when he isn’t playing golf, Donald Trump plays”pussy grabbing.” It’s a sport that only gets discussed in locker rooms, but is played where ever famous men find vulnerable women. Sounds fun, right?
- It is possible to check out events in three different counties in a single day without completely exhausting one’s self.
- The more often I drive to Kinderhook the shorter the ride feels.
- Fall foliage season seemed to take a long time to start this year, but is moving very quickly.
- Samascott Orchard is very welcoming upon arrival but feels kind of militant when you depart.
- I haven’t met a Nine-Pin cider that I don’t like.
- Coming across an abandoned hair weave on the sidewalk when I’m running always makes me uncomfortable.
- The Half Moon Market is a terrific gathering of artisans in a beautiful space that should be used more frequently.
- My goal of running a 1,000 miles this year is within my sights.
Filed under Albany, drinking, Events, Exercise, friends, holidays, Local, News, Random, road trips, running, sunday, Troy, upstate New York
When I finally sat down on the couch last evening, I couldn’t help but exclaim “I’m sitting down!” It seemed like a long time coming. It had been a wonderfully, full and satisfying three-day weekend and I felt well-prepared for what promises to be another overflowing with appointments, meetings and commitments week. Monday was an awesome bonus, without which I would have most certainly been overwhelmed instead of merely contentedly tired.
The day began with breakfast and the completion, after three days, of my reading of the Sunday paper. This feat was followed by some Lark + Lily work – editing our new fall menu and updated wine list along with payroll. There’s no holiday from payroll! Once the business responsibilities were met, for the moment, household chores moved to the forefront. Three loads of laundry, bed changing, a quick vacuum, and a shuffling of sheets and wardrobe to accommodate the new season. Then it was off to the bank, the optician (Quinn’s glasses mysteriously turned up broken) and Hewitt’s for (more) mums.
Nine pots of mums ensconced in my car, I got lucky and found parking remarkably near to the restaurant and took on the task of replanting our four window boxes to reflect autumn. An hour or so later, sidewalk swept and flowers watered, I headed back home to meet one of the Lunar b*tches for an afternoon run. It was such a treat to run in shorts that we stretched our loop into 7+ miles. These warm days are definitely numbered, but there is consolation in the anticipation of cross-country skiing.
The early evening was a flurry of boy energy – lots of physical contact and guffawing all around. I finally cooked up those dumplings and we all enjoyed a tasty and easy dinner. And then things finally started to slow down…
I watched an episode of Chef’s Table, followed by an episode of Transparent and some quality time with a pint of Haagen Daz Swiss Vanilla Almond. I had a moment with my foam roller, followed by a hot shower, and then crawled into bed. Days like this may be exhausting, but I prefer to think of them as fully and well lived. I don’t think that’s a bad thing to shout about on a day known as the feast of trumpets.
I’ve got a big birthday coming up at the end of summer…fifty…half a century…the golden anniversary of my birth…the point in my life when I just might have to begin behaving a tad more adult. I think I’m ready.
It could be just me, but these decade birthdays began taking on more significance as I aged and I can remember each of them vividly. At 20, I was on the verge of independence and living completely on my own for the first time. For my 30th birthday, I was married and thrilled to be pregnant with my first child. When I turned 40 I thought I had it all, only to realize that maybe it wasn’t enough. And now, as 50 approaches, I find myself excited to flip a page to a new chapter in my life despite not really knowing what may come next.
I’ve learned so many things during my years alive, yet I’m still not sure what the future holds for me. Is that lack of certainty, that acceptance that what happens tomorrow is eternally a mysterious surprise, a sign of growing up? Maybe.
What do I know now that I didn’t know 10 years ago?
- I know that I can outrun cancer and the fear of being alone.
- I know that I can juggle a lot and that, even though I now wear a nightguard because I seem to be grinding my teeth, I am more satisfied with a full life and schedule than with one that lacks challenge and stimulation.
- I know that there will be days that nearly overwhelm me with minutia and situations which demand immediate and close attention, but I’ve also learned that they pass.
- I know that I am utterly blessed to have three healthy children and a positive relationship with their father that is based upon our mutual focus on what is best for them.
- I know that the lines on my face and the grey in my hair are evidence of the length of my life and that I’m lucky to have both of them – and access to quality skincare products and a good colorist.
- I know that life is about give and take and trying to remain cognizant of the balance between the two.
- I know that I’m ready for what comes next.
I’m ready, ready for the laughing gas
I’m ready, I’m ready for what’s next
I’m ready to duck, I’m ready to dive
I’m ready to say ‘I’m glad to be alive’ – U2