tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68297099273719281462023-11-15T09:41:48.059-08:00Homestead and Highway: Notes of Modern LadiesHOMESTEAD and HIGHWAY: Notes of Modern Ladies.
Two Modern Ladies exchange notes, in keeping with a time-tested literary tradition of exploring and documenting modern life's challenges, joys, and themes, through the written manifestation of an intimate female friendship.MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-7745909849601100442013-04-05T19:24:00.001-07:002013-04-05T19:25:53.655-07:0012 Days of Spring Break in Haiku (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I lied about writing my next blog post about "everything I need to know I learned from Downton Abbey". That is/was a great idea but unfortunately the moment passed. Winter was a great time to be inspired by Downton, but spring may actually be arriving now and it's time to turn my attention to the other long-awaited historic TV pleasure, Mad Men.<br />
<br />
Instead, I have a simple reflection on our much-needed Spring Break trip last week (plus). Here goes.<br />
<br />
Day 1:<br />
<br />
Comfy on highway<br />
Blackberry still buzzing but<br />
Quiet by Pittsburgh<br />
<br />
Day 2:<br />
<br />
Finally slept; now --<br />
Sun on Capitol Hill for<br />
Collins wedding fun<br />
<br />
Day 3:<br />
<br />
Precious and subtle;<br />
Son and daughter, with our clan<br />
In D.C.'s riches<br />
<br />
Day 4:<br />
<br />
Cousins, kin; we love<br />
That in this big cold city<br />
We are everywhere<br />
<br />
Day 5:<br />
<br />
Nieces and nephews<br />
Fresh, demanding; fleeting times<br />
Today, back on road<br />
<br />
Day 6:<br />
<br />
Nana, Mads in back<br />
Peter, shotgun; we stop to<br />
Walk Williamsburg, scan Norfolk<br />
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Day 7:<br />
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Beach motel, fresh air<br />
Vast seascapes, golf for Peter<br />
Happy fish dinner<br />
<br />
Day 8:<br />
<br />
Tunes through rich coast lands<br />
Drop Nana with Papa; slip<br />
in stop with old friends<br />
<br />
Day 9:<br />
<br />
Wake in the mountains<br />
Many memories, echos<br />
Growing parents, kids<br />
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Day 10:<br />
<br />
We all hike to top<br />
Blue Mountain, huddle, safe perch<br />
End day with art, eggs<br />
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Day 11:<br />
<br />
Lazy Easter morn<br />
Kids: treats, play; moms: coffee, talk<br />
We take off again<br />
<br />
Day 12:<br />
<br />
Louisville bridges --<br />
Listen to Opening Day<br />
Home, little snow left<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-63625865514922892462013-01-06T17:24:00.000-08:002013-01-06T17:31:03.972-08:00Catching Up (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear, Dear Abby:<br />
<br />
You are back in L.A. now with your boys after having been here in Wisconsin with us for 2 plus weeks. We got to catch up in person some, although not enough for my taste. I was largely to blame for this. Catching up with a dear friend during the holiday season and end-of-year at work is a challenge, come to find out.<br />
<br />
In any case, I owed you some "catching up" long before you arrived . . you've now provided a couple really well-done posts that I thoroughly enjoyed, and that brought me a little closer to you even before you arrived here, and I have failed to respond timely.<br />
<br />
Life for me has been rich and busy, and that is largely why I haven't written. I'm not sure if either of us really has really gotten a good survey of the full panoply of <i>stuff</i> we're both dealing with, in our recent visit or through this blog. I think we've had a lot of miscellaneous snacks from the Abby and Mary Beth vending machines as opposed to the full multi-course meal of Abby or Mary Beth cuisine. The snacks are a lot better than going hungry but there are still gaps in my understanding of all you do each day and are thinking about over there, as was illuminated by all the new territory we just started dipping into when we were speaking in person in Madison over the last couple of weeks. Similarly, my life is so full of so many things that I can scarcely do them credit to any one other person. My kids are well aware of the tidbits from home like running laundry, my latest homecooked meal, my enthusiastic Christmas cookie baking, and my best attempts to getting some modest holiday shopping done and a holiday card out to loved ones. My co-workers know of the long to-do list at the office and the challenge to meet budget at the non-profit this year. My clients know about those end of year goals of getting documents signed. My sisters know something of the extended family goings-on. My neighbors and friends know of the planning to get kids out to the ski hill (which by the way apparently requires about 25 emails. . . . would you like to develop an online business product with me that would serve parents hustling kids in carpools to do fun and necessary things?). You get the point. Many spheres of activity, and much going on in each. Same for you. The blog doesn't make the cut sometimes.<br />
<br />
I do have some reflections on 2012, and 2013. It is, after all, that time of year. We must seize the opportunity (however arbitrary it is) to allow ourselves a chance to reflect, re-boot, and feel fresh again. I know it works for me, however fleetingly. <br />
<br />
2012 was a year of things being harder than we thought. Almost everyone near and dear to me went through a lot of hard work and toil and demands for patience and persistence, even if they began the year thinking there was not a huge challenge on their plate. It was a year of understanding that these bogs we wade through, slowly, can actually be the paths we must take to move forward. However, in contrast, for me, a major lesson was that if the bog becomes too cumbersome and you no longer feel that you're covering ground, there's a chance you've burdened yourself with something unnecessary and stifling. I learned a lot about my capacity for worry this year. I also learned a lot about my passion for what really, really matters. My grandma passing away jolted me into clarity around the issue of authenticity. We can dream up narratives about ourselves, and sometimes we must, just to keep going and have some fun and stick with our plan and vision for the future. The key is that the narrative really must be real and true to whatever you really are and what you really, really believe. I think if we can all arrive at a narrative, a character sketch, a self-awareness about what we really do like and believe, that is based on honesty about ourselves to ourselves, we can all become our own greatest selves. If you feel like you're plodding through a bog you probably haven't re-evaluated your authentic narrative in a while. It may be hard to face the revision that needs to be made.<br />
<br />
I read the book <u>Good to Great</u> this past summer. There are lots of catchy themes and terms that I can drop (and will, more than likely) from that book, and they are indeed fairly useful, I reckon. One thing the author talks about is that in good businesses someone figured out to get the right people "on the bus" before you really take it anywhere. This is all a metaphor for building a team with the right people for your business endeavor. <br />
<br />
I hold a similar concept and metaphor dear on the issue of proceeding forward with one's personal narrative. I use a boat as opposed to a bus. It must be the Mississippi River heritage in me. It goes like this. By our age, you probably know the essential key things that really matter and make you happy. They can be as important and understood as your children and parents and dear friends, or simple and of an accessory nature, like good books or yoga or baseball. I think if you know you have the essential components -- big and small -- that serve you, truly matter to you, bring you joy and satisfaction, in your boat, you're halfway there. Then, you set your boat to sail forward and let the currents and winds blow you a little. If the boat is moving forward, and you're not stuck in the bog, trudging and dragging, then you're probably on track and being true. If you get stuck, you might need to unload something or just let go of some assumptions about the direction you're supposed to be headed in. I think if you just know what's supposed to be in your boat, though, and follow the current -- consistently paddling, mind you (my midwestern self will never accept that one can just sit back and float) -- everything should work out.<br />
<br />
This leads me to take issue with your last post which focused in part on your love affair with the "ideas stage". You may have a lot of ideas that haven't fully come to fruition, but you're the best I know about being honest about what's in your boat and being willing to throw some new things in and throw them out. You are also very willing to go with the current. In the course of all that you get some great ideas. They reflect these things you care about (what's in your boat) and your experiences as you continue down the river. You may well wish to gain focus in seeing some of these ideas through -- that's all fine and good and a great resolution for the new year. From what I saw when you visited, you've led a hell of an expedition down the river with all sorts of good things big and small in your boat (from all the "little" passionate interests of the Shotwell clan to the Shotwell boys themselves who are remarkable). I don't see you getting stuck in the bog too often. I think when the idea that's meant to take form is ripe and ready, your expedition will lead you to it. Don't try too hard, and for heaven's sake, don't get all cynical with yourself about not having developed "the big one" into action yet. I got a good feeling about this year, and I'm pretty sure you're right on track. <br />
<br />
Downton Abbey Season 3 is about to come on Wisconsin Public Television. I would be revealing how dreadfully pathetic I truly am if I tried to articulate how excited I am. I love that we connected on this shared obsession when you were home.<br />
<br />
My next blog post will be: "Everything I Need to Know about Life I Learned from Downton Abbey." Seriously. It's half-written. Don't beat me to it. <br />
<br />
Peace and Love and Happy Paddling.</div>
MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-33039599600549655332012-12-05T21:31:00.001-08:002012-12-06T10:32:01.203-08:00I Got a DownloadI love this youtube <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOavbyDKSi0">clip</a> so much. Please watch it if you haven't already.<br />
<br />
It's about New Age stuff and it's funny. <br />
<br />
As you know, I spend much of my freetime doing yoga and exploring various facets of New Age lifestyle. Since moving to California, I have cleansed, taken a vow of silence, dropped shaman medicine, met with mystics, sought daily guidance from both Angel and Faerie cards, burned sage, and wrapped myself in a daily yoga routine more immersive than any I have tried before. Certainly, I am a cult candidate personality, always searching and highly suggestive to stories of bliss and transformation. But every time I think I am getting closer to some spiritual truth about the world, an inner (persistent) snarky voice turns on and I make jokes in my mind. I miss funny shit when I hang out with mystics. They rarely laugh at themselves. <br />
<br />
I remember the one and only yoga retreat I went on a few years ago. Worst one week mind behavior ever. I could barely contain my mirth at dinner when every single conversation revolved around raw food and who was and wasn't eating sugar and wheat. Gag me. I couldn't stop myself. The chef served pasta one night and I ate three plates just to stuff the void. During the week I started writing a screenplay in my mind. While I was supposed to be cleansing myself of fear and anxiety, an action spoof was basically writing itself. In the end, I never committed the story to paper, but believe me, the plot was flushed out. As a pitch: a remote yoga retreat in Mexico is taken hostage by a local drug cartel and spa victims are forced to choose between passive yogic behavior (standing on their heads all day and hunger strikes) or taking up arms against the rebels and fighting for freedom. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xw_6ore09UU">Gweneth Paltrow</a> was going to play lead with Madonna as the aging grande dame of the yoga retreat. <br />
<br />
Anyway, this morning I was at my yoga class and I got a download. Just to flush out this experience for you, I will add some details about my current yoga obsession. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mysore_style">Mysore</a> yoga is my new practice. I love it because the practice is demanding and has the potential to calm my mind. It's hard because I'm physically not very good at it and I feel constantly humbled by yogis who have been doing the practice for many years. Ashtanga practiced in the mysore tradition is a set routine where everyone works at their own pace. You get to do more parts of the routine when you are ready. (Frank was excited to hear about this part because he wanted to know if it felt like leveling up in a video game. Pretty much actually.) Mysore teachers do not lead the class, but move around the room giving adjustments and helping students learn new poses when appropriate. I am just starting my practice, so quite often I am in a simple head to knee pose while on the mat next to me someone is doing this kind of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHl1qoIHmIQ">crazy, beautiful</a> thing. You are not supposed to compare yourself to anyone else. You are not supposed to be competitive with yourself. The practice is supposed to be very zen like, "just breathe and practice and all things are coming". That kind of thing. Ashtanga yogis wear this shirt that says, "One lifetime is not enough". And I really believe in the message. And my body is changing and I feel great. But my mind is tricky. <br />
<br />
Today someone was jumping back and forth over themselves in a backbend flipover and he fell. Just the other day I had heard this same guy say how discipline came easy to him, how he approached his practice just like he approaches everything in life. He was basically bragging about his deep focus abilities to someone who expressed awe and amazement at his physical mastery of the ashtanga poses. When he fell today I experienced the best case of <i>schadenfreude</i> ever in a yoga room. I loved that he fell. His ego is too huge. He brags about finding it easy to focus. What? <i>Fucking yoga asshole.</i> <br />
<br />
This is what my mind started doing: first, I realized it's really fun to see yogis fall down; while also recognizing that no matter how much we want to believe in a noncompetitive yoga spirit, the shit is awesome athletically and you can definitely see when someone is winning and when they are not; and finally, how cool it would be to see yogis do reality television. <i>I have been watching a lot of reality television lately so this leap made total sense to me.</i><br />
<br />
I started making yoga reality t.v. pitches in my mind. I don't know yet if the final pitch should be <b>Yoga Island </b>(a <i>Survivor</i> style reality show where a bunch of yogis are put on an island and teamed up and given challenges, voting each other off one by one over a series of weeks); or <b>Stretched</b> (a <i>Chopped </i>style show where each week four yogis compete against each other to win prize money to open up their own yoga studio); or maybe <b>Project Yoga</b> (a <i>Project Runway</i> derivative where young yoga hopefuls are guided by experts to see who has what it takes to be the next yoga superstar; or lastly, <b>Yoga with the Stars</b> (a <i>Dancing with the Stars</i> style show where semi-celebrities are teamed up with yoga masters to see who has what it takes to become a yoga master? Why don't these shows exist? I want to watch them. Can you imagine how fun it would be to see yogis acting bitchy and stressed and voting each other off week by week while trying to stay zen and eat healthy? All of this came rushing to me while I am backbending and trying to breathe and clear my mind. I got a download. <br />
<br />
This is how my mind works. I seem to read a lot and get ideas and then move on to the next idea without a lot of action. I can make connections between things and my own train of thought is amusing and satisfying but....I am a wanderer.<br />
<br />
I am constantly given the gift of ideas and I don't know the first thing about the discipline of putting ideas to paper or networking the shit out of an idea to get it made or published or realized.<br />
<br />
That is why I go to the mat every day and pray I will learn what it means to focus. This is why I hate people who claim that focus is easy. And I wouldn't want to have a beer with one.<br />
<br />
I appreciate this place to write it down. MB, I am trying to stop living just in my head and make goals and act on my ideas. I am also watching <i>Project Runway</i> and <i>Chopped</i> and cleaning up after three kids. I think the idea of yoga reality tv is a good one. I should type "how to pitch a reality tv show" into ehow. I should have written down that awesome yoga retreat screenplay. Truth? I am often most content with the idea phase. And I spend most of my time trying to do backbends.<br />
<br />
Love and miss you.<br />
<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-44978514434906288252012-11-08T21:22:00.001-08:002012-11-08T21:25:46.275-08:00Making MoviesHenry has been filming a movie over the past three weeks. The movie is called Broken Horses and he plays the younger version of the main character (played by <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0549815/">Christopher Marquette</a>). His father gets shot, he is manipulated by a cartel type thug, and kills someone all in the first ten minutes. The director is Indian (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vidhu_Vinod_Chopra">Vinod Vishnu Chopra</a>) and has wanted to make a Hollywood film for a long time. This is his baby. He has poured his heart and soul into the project and I hope it's going to be quite something. Think <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0477348/">No Country for Old Men</a> </i>meets <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0426883/"><i>Alpha Dog</i></a>? The bad guy is <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000352/">Vincent d'Onofrio</a>, and when Henry acted with him I was freaking out over his mad skills. In every take he pulled out something new, like a jigsaw puzzle of intensity. Vincent is a method actor, which means he totally stays in character for the duration of the filming. He drives a pick-up truck to shoots and sits by himself a lot brooding. Remember <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=full+metal+jacket+vincent+d%27onofrio&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=Bvg&tbo=u&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ei=kX2cUKv_JcmerAGrkoGQDQ&sqi=2&ved=0CC4QsAQ&biw=1680&bih=1049">Full Metal Jacket</a>? sheesh. It's pretty amazing for Henry to act in a scene with someone like that.<br />
<br />
Henry dyed his hair dark brown to look more like the main character, and he wears dark contacts too. I hardly recognize him. His agent and manager both like the new look, so I wonder if he will be dying his roots for awhile? I continue to lighten my own hair, trying to recapture the golden locks of my youth, so I know it's no picnic the price we pay for fake color. Seems like a lot of upkeep for a young teen. On set Henry has his own personal contact attendant. She just follows him about and puts eye drops in his eyes. He also has a set teacher, make up technician, wardrobe assistant, and a hair stylist to attend to his every need. Henry also has a stand in double for when the shot needs to be set up and he wants to sit down and rest. Poor kid. <br />
<br />
It's weird to see so many people circling Henry. He's my kid but I feel underfoot. Everyone is really nice about it, but it's obvious that I am most useful when least involved. Mostly I try to keep him in my sights, but also stay out of the whirlwind. I grab him snacks and hot tea and all that, and keep track of his book. Being a stagemom is really a social game. Mostly everyone wants me to not make waves, but they also want me to keep the crazy set teacher and any other (much crazier) moms out of their hair. So I am stuck talking all day with an uber Mormon stagemom who used to sing high soprano on Broadway and can still do the splits (just ask her) and the set teacher who was a college football quarterback, turned <i>Days of Our Lives</i> actor, turned rock and roll star, turned set teacher. Never have I been through a weirder election cycle than listening to the conservative Mormon mom talk politics with the school of hard rock teacher. Good stuff.<br />
<br />
The movie is being shot about an hour North of Los Angeles in <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?start=221&num=10&hl=en&client=firefox-a&tbo=d&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&biw=1680&bih=1049&tbm=isch&tbnid=Eu9HhdCUgg0G8M:&imgrefurl=http://www.scvhistory.com/scvhistory/jk0058.htm&docid=tbsmBfopByRvsM&imgurl=http://www.scvhistory.com/gif/jk0058_large.jpg&w=1600&h=1072&ei=eoacUNeSL8HXyAHI-4DgBQ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=833&vpy=466&dur=408&hovh=142&hovw=208&tx=89&ty=118&sig=113750185478360477644&page=5&tbnh=142&tbnw=208&ndsp=60&ved=1t:429,r:33,s:200,i:103">hills</a> that make me think of Steinbeck's <i>East of Eden</i>, with all the California reverie and then some. The days have been perfect with black crows and golden tumbleweed. Just like a dream (or a movie). Go figure. There are several experts on set who specialize in dust. I am not kidding. They hold bags of dust in front of giant fans and give the landscape that certain haze where fantasy and reality disintegrate.<br />
<br />
<i>My little boy walks toward camera. He has a dust halo. He looks taller somehow and strange in his dark hair. Several dozen professionals close around him. My eyes burn and I wonder if it is the dust or tears. This is what we came for. The Mormon mom is saying something again and I nod before I even know what she needs. Yes. I want to go and get some tea. I heard they just put out banana bread...</i> <br />
<br />
Rereading your last post I wonder why I can't use the time on set to write lists and make my own goals about the future. I don't know. I feel like I should be able to do that, but even my book remains unopened most of the time. The last month I have been living and breathing my kid's dream, and I want to be present with Henry before his reality changes. It is impossible to think that he will change entirely, but it is also certain he has found the world he wants to live in and that stagemoms are only welcome for a limited amount of time. I am savoring this window into what it means to be an actor and make movies. It seems like a good life. They all eat very well and tell stories with a purse of gold. If dust gets in their eyes, a friendly assistant will saline solution away the irritation. Problem solved.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-39249151377764595522012-10-14T19:33:00.003-07:002012-10-23T08:00:35.257-07:00Dear Abby (and Crys) -- Good Advice from My Straighttalkin' Sisters (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've got an embarrassment of riches when it comes to amazing people -- friends, family, and colleagues -- in my life. But I must admit there are only a few who I consistently go to for advice and who readily dish it to me straight. I have a big mouth and strong ideas in any given moment, so it takes a certain willingness to risk adversity to truly give me advice. I get this; there are many, many loved ones who could probably impart great knowledge on me and perhaps I am just too damn stubborn or unreceptive for that to work.<br />
<br />
You, Abby, and my friend Crystal who is in NC, are the two straight-talkin' sisters who are usually able to break through and really nudge me in a direction I need to go in, through the simple exchange of seeking (me) and providing (you) advice. You've met Crystal briefly, I know, because I recall when she was in Madison one hot summer you were up in your single window air-conditioned bedroom upstairs in your big house on Jenifer Street, and you were very pregnant with Charlie, and she and I came up to check on you in your state of keeping cool and waiting it out.<br />
<br />
You and I had the chance to have a very long check-in by phone last Sunday, and it was great. The longest conversation, to be sure, that we've had since you left for CA. You got to fill me in on many details of your exciting developments out there (which I will leave you to explore in your own posts), and I was in great need of advice. In fact, much of our conversation could be appropriately nicknamed a "Dear Abby" discussion.<br />
<br />
I have been thinking about the very meaningful advice you gave me in that conversation, and generally, and I wanted to capture some of it in writing. My mind also wanders to some consistent advice Crystal has given me over the years, most of which actually overlaps perfectly with yours, albeit phrased differently based on your different styles and experiences. Without further adieu, here's the condensed treatise of big picture advice from my straighttalkin' sisters, Ab and Crys. It's applicable to everyone, and I hope others will take it to heart too:<br />
<br />
1. <u>Seek something extraordinary; don't settle for ordinary</u>. This particular point is made by example by both you and Crystal; but it often comes through in advice from you both when I am moaning about some challenge I've encountered (or continue to encounter) in my particular brand of living. For you, I think this is an issue of making things interesting and fun. Your perspective is -- isn't the most fun way to live to do something original? For Crystal, it derives from some more traditional spiritual teachings and the like, I do believe. Her verbiage for it would be something to the effect of "you have one precious life, make the most of it, live abundantly. . . ." I'm sure the two of you have your moments when the hum-drum and challenges start to drift you away from this theory, but you consistently articulate it when I'm the one drifting.<br />
<u></u><br />
2. <u>Surround yourself with the right elements to find the extraordinary; be aware of the way your context affects you</u>. This is really useful advice, and I would say I hear your voice, Ab, when I think of this one. What you have told me is to be conscious of the way spending time with people makes me feel. Who makes you feel good, and who's got that magic that helps you remember not to settle? Crystal went on vacation recently and came back talking about how the getting away reminds you of how big the world is out there and puts your day-to-day norm and the culture and community you're in back in perspective. You and I talked a lot on Sunday on the impact of Madison, the east side of Madison, regions, and communities may have, for better or for worse, on our own ability to think creatively and live the way we want to. . . .the important thing that I take away from all this is to be conscious about individuals, environment, and community so that you take full advantage of all you can in your immediate surroundings -- but, also make wise choices about the influences that, if allowed in, create the backdrop to what you're trying to do with your own unique life.<br />
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3. <u>Don't compare yourself to others; they are not you, and you may not actually want the same things as them, despite the temptation to believe you seek the dominant paradigm</u>. This goes along a bit with #2, but it deserves its own spot in the list. You are in L.A. doing all sorts of funky new things, and I gather you currently have a perch in the world that evades destructive comparisons with some other "norm" or dominant paradigm. But in the midwest, in almost every other place and time, even when you are the most open minded person in the world, there's always that risk of feeling that your unique path doesn't measure up to some other norm. At moments when I needed it, you and Crystal have both astutely urged me to get away from all that. Crystal's always helpful in reminding me that my timing is a little funny. I may not be where I want to get to in some areas of my life but I've been raising kids since I was 20 and will be an empty nester when I'm 40, for example. Your point from Sunday went something like "I don't think you WANT what most people have, MB!" And you're right. I don't want what most people have, and it's key to have a very personal unique approach and dream -- but, there's still a whole world of opportunity to self-destructively attempt to measure one's own progress along some dominant track or trajectory, and not against one's own personal unique track. Well, to hell with that. <br />
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4. <u>It's totally OK to do whatever it takes to enjoy, savor, and experience to the fullest, being a mom -- even at the cost of other things (because being a mom is one of the coolest things you can do!).</u> One time you said to me "I guess I just really like being a mom and having kids -- I mean, it's pretty much the most fun thing you can do." Again, the "maximum fun"(this is another podcast reference, right?) underpinnings of your philosophy come through. Crystal and I bonded originally over being young moms in college at the same time and really enjoying the mom thing. I think all three of us have carved out creative ways to get the most out of our years with kids at home, and this raises all sorts of interesting questions about career, self-care, finding time for your own interests (or even remembering what they are), and relationships, to name a few. I believe it's fair to say all three of us, on our own terms, have been challenged by some of these questions. I have always gotten great reinforcement from both of you that letting the mom experience take the front seat is a perfectly OK way to go; the rest will come, and you'll never regret this prioritization.<br />
<u></u><br />
5. <u>If you know you want something, come out and say it to yourself, write it down, put it out there. How are you supposed to get it if you don't put words to it and pursue it actively?</u> This is classic, and both you and Crystal have separately suggested this (and I have done it) at various points. Crystal talks in terms of "manifesto" -- write down what you actually want (deciding ends up being the hardest part, come to find out). You have recently pointed out that I should get the big goals down on paper quick so I can stay focused on what it is I'm exactly trying to do, so I don't get all jammed up on the details. I've got them up on the wall, with a card I got from Crystal with the Thoreau quote "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined."<br />
<u></u><br />
6. <u>Know your worth, in every situation</u>. Ah yes, this is really an Abby thing. This one's all about the economics of relationships and what one has to offer. No relationship -- personal, professional, familial, is totally perfect or pure; there are exchanges that occur, and they matter. You've always been one to point out that it's okay to understand what you have to offer others and what they have to offer you. This understanding helps through the tougher moments, when pure fraternity just won't be enough get you through a tough moment gracefully, and won't be enough to convince the other person to do what you think is right by you. Having a clear understanding of the exchanges that are going on in our relationships, and the value of everyone's contributions, can help us find the right approach and face things with a little more practical spirit, when emotions might otherwise blow things up.<br />
<br />
7. <u>Do the stuff that makes you feel good and affirms your authentic, soulful self. Otherwise finding the extraordinary, surrounding yourself with the right elements, being an awesome mom, knowing what you want, and knowing your worth is going to be impossible</u>. Crystal talks about the metaphor of those standard airplane safety instructions of putting the oxygen mask on the adult first, before helping minor children -- you're better for your kids and as a caretaker and a boss, etc, if you yourself are doing well and taken care of. She's pulled this one out on me before when I was a bit burned out and out of touch with the little things that delight me like travel, books, music. You reminded me when we talked on Sunday to sing, escape into a good book, and do the things that bring me "flow". We have long referred to this concept casually after reading the pop psych works of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (here's a link to his 2004 TED talk on "Flow -- the secret of happiness": <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/mihaly_csikszentmihalyi_on_flow.html">http://www.ted.com/talks/mihaly_csikszentmihalyi_on_flow.html</a>) I very much buy this theory but haven't been a very devout subscriber. The idea is that by regularly doing things that require or lead to total focus and absorbtion and application of skill, and that give you immediate satisfaction and engagement, you become a happier healthier person overall. I do think we live in a world where way too much time can be spent stuck in a car, on the phone with the cell phone company, passively attending to some office-style work task, etc. Then you make a great baked good or dig in the garden for a while or spend an entire day putting a boat in the water and paddling down a river or write something for several hours that requires your full mental attention, and you realize -- wow! -- that felt good; I focused on something entirely and fully! To take this even a step further, focusing on the things that are our very personal, soulful "flow" activities, really does get you back in touch with your real self. That getting in touch with yourself thing helps infinitely with authentically following all of the outstanding advice on this entire list. . . . <br />
<br />
Dear Abby, thanks for all the advice. Remember it all for yourself, too. . . . I'm going to be reminding my other sage friend Crystal of the same. . . . . here's to maximum fun and abundant unique lives. . . </div>
MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-87381115358686153122012-09-30T16:39:00.001-07:002012-10-14T10:39:22.538-07:00Response, and the Week (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Great to hear back from you, Abby -- and to hear all about your new life in L.A. So much richness, goodness, positive content in what you've said about it and what you've found in your willingness to jump off the cliff and not be sure what you would find on the other side. As it should be. <br />
<br />
I have had a hell of a week, in my own little quaint way. I want to acknowledge so much about what you have shared and what is on my mind and going on in the world from this vantage point but I fear that there just isn't time, and won't be time soon, so I've decided to hop on the blog and respond quickly and just enough to make sure we keep this going.<br />
<br />
Regarding one specific element of your last post -- don't feel badly for Mads. She is so good, and so going through a very needed analysis of the differences between our life and others', and the choices that have brought us to this point. It would be very 10th rate if a 12-year-old able bodied independent thinking young lady did not question the distinct contrast between the "other normal" and our (actually very "outlier") normal. And the girl looks good and likes good stuff. This is the 7th grade version of all that she has always been and always will be. Just this weekend we were with my sister Julie who reminded us of how when Madeline was a kindergartner she emerged from her bedroom with an old knit poncho that she had discovered from my childhood clothing collection (saved by my mom), with funky tight/leggings, and galoshes or some such when this would have actually been a look on the Sunday Times Style Page but all of her contemporaries in school were probably wearing standard cutesy fare from Target or the Children's Place. I can't wait to see where she goes with that.<br />
<br />
Last Sunday night, I along with the rest of Wisconsin watched as the temporary refs in the Packers Seahawks game made a devastatingly determining bad call and, along with the whole of Wisconsin, went to bed after turning my TV off, nothing left to do, dejected and having to face the week. But, Monday morning came with lots of entertaining commentary about said call and the implications of the referee/NFL labor dispute. The trees on the side streets in our neighborhood were showing signs of rapid change. Two-tone trees everywhere, with half of actual leaves, or half of actual trees, in two distinct colors. Chartreuse and magenta. Blaze orange and yellow. The drought has brought us brilliance in the new season.<br />
<br />
I worked as usual this week. Some of the poignant moments included during bail hearings in the County Jail to see what was going to happen with a kid served by the organization I direct. I made some very memorable observations in that setting. One case included multiple family members arrested in one bust of a home for child abuse. An entire gallery of family members filled the viewing area, separated by glass from the Commissioner and the detained loved ones. This family settled into those seats, spanning in age from infant to grandma, and watched the bail hearings transpire. If you watched them from the side you would have thought they were watching a very intense movie. I can't do justice to the scenario I wish to describe here. After it was said and done I turned to the foster parent I was sitting near and simply said "Humanity." He nodded, slowly. This was the guy that saw me on the street headed into the hearing and said, "what are you playing lawyer today or somethin'?" (He had only seen me in jeans in more informal settings previously). I said to him, "what are you going hunting or somethin'?" He was wearing a full body camouflage jumpsuit, biker gloves, and a bluetooth headset. He laughed and said "Nah, this is just what I wear to make sure people know there's crazy black man on the prowl." This guy and I are building rapport. <br />
<br />
Less poignant moments included attending to the full panoply of responsibilities that fall on me with the organization I direct. These include basic compliance filings, planning special events, overseeing staff and programming, paying bills, organizing what's happening with the Board, writing grants, doing outreach presentations, etc. On some weeks, this list kind of buries me psychologically. But when I really get a kink going in my neck is when there's a kid like this one that was in the bail hearing and there are no easy solutions. <br />
<br />
I also did some work for my law practice this week and have been on a bit of a kick to market a little more. I need to build up the amount of work I do from my practice. It just pays more, and the non-profit job tends to have the ability to take over my life. Conscious effort will be required to make the slow shift. I have a few fun lawyerly tasks on my plate right now through my practice that include helping a lady get out of a lease in an apartment infested with bedbugs, helping an inventor navigate the world of nondisclosure agreements with companies looking at his product, finishing some corporate restructuring for a couple business clients, and helping my usual tax-exempt organization clients with their contracts, governance, etc. It's a nice mix, and because my rates are low, I still do it at a fairly non-stressful pace. Or, should I say, I keep my rates very low to be able to do it at a non-stressful pace. But perhaps I am discovering that I must take things to the next (stressful) level.<br />
<br />
My mom responsibilities this week were quite upbeat and positive. I've come to really appreciate a week during which there are no major disputes or logistic fiascos. There was some pretty quality periodic tables studying. Everybody got up in the morning without much trouble, and they actually ate the breakfasts I presented. My only heavy hitting night of driving was to get Mads to a gymnastics class, rush to present at a work event, and drive all the way back out to get her. But all went off without a hitch, and in fact there was a Fresh Air interview with Mindy Kaling on one leg of the drive -- score. (Her new show airs right before Henry's -- nice -- I hope you get to meet her on Fox grounds) There was one emergency call to arrive at middle school before a volleyball game started to sign a permission slip that got lost in the shuffle (so so not my fault, mind you -- somebody else dropped the ball on that one). All other rides, activities, and plans basically went as they were supposed to. That's something to give thanks for.<br />
<br />
There was a lot of family and Sconnie love this week. Have you noticed a trend here? My attention is focused on family and my homeland, and this seems right and good in the general order of this life of mine. Or should I say, I must make right and good in the general order of this life of mine, and so my attention is focused on family and my homeland. Either way, it's working.<br />
<br />
Tuesday my Peter got to miss school and go to the Ryder Cup in the Chicago area with my Dad. He saw his idols up close, practicing -- Rory McIlroy, Tiger Woods, Bubba Watson, Phil Mickelson, others -- and he also got to see many other illustrious folks doing the celebrity tournament, including Bill Murray and Justin Timberlake. He texted me from the course "Mom, u r going to love me!" and I texted "Rory?" Sure enough, he came home with a Rory autograph. Rory's my favorite. As my dad says, imagine being Irish, 24, and maybe the best golfer in the world. What I love is he's just so cute and relatively unassuming about it all in interviews. I know it won't last, but the last couple years it's been pretty fun. His mom must still be pissing her pants. That night when we got home Peter was up in my room watching the highlights (our downstairs TV is on the fritz). He let me sit next to him on the bed and we watched together for an hour. He announced that he would like to stay back the upcoming weekend to make sure he was able to golf in one of the remaining tournaments of his fall club golf schedule. He is inspired. And, I just keep thinking of him and my dad walking out there all day, having the time of their lives, and this thought brings me as much joy as anything I can imagine.<br />
<br />
My sister and her beautiful bouncing (literally bouncing) baby boy rode the train from Chicago to Columbus, Wisconsin on Thursday and I busted out from Madeline's volleyball game like a bat out of hell to pick them up. When I pulled onto the dirt entryway to the Amtrak station, there they were, standing under a gazebo, her bouncing him in a Baby Bjorn. What a sight! She came and stayed with us and next day we loaded up for our weekend in La Crosse -- Oktoberfest. You know all about this, Ab. We still talk about the year you and the boys came with us. There were some good stories from that year which I will not get into just now. <br />
<br />
By 5:30 the next morning, sister Julie and I were up and getting ready to go run the half marathon on the Oktoberfest Maple Leaf parade route. We did pretty well considering we were more just "doing it to do it". We definitely recounted some stories from the Whistlestop. I should thank you at this point because you talked me into that first half marathon up north in the damn freezing snow and cold on October 6th or some such, and since then I've done about 6 or 7 half marathons, and they're about the only thing that really gets me to be honest about some decent workouts. The fear of suffering through one, untrained, I mean. So I sign up for one here and there and it keeps me decent about exercise.<br />
<br />
The rest of the day was grand. We were all out on the parade route -- again, many, many cousins and family members in full force for the local holiday. Town shut down, over 100,000 people in the streets drinking, partying, celebrating. My mom and dad in their dirndls and leiderhosen (they are now a part of the Oktoberfest Royal Family -- oh far more than I can explain here. Suffice it to say, big big La Crosse tradition). Bloody Marys and beers and all the kids and a three hour long parade, and just downright widespread all ages revelry in the streets. Mads got to go out to the festgrounds with her teen cousins, and I proceeded to the bars and outdoor music with my childless cousins. My sister Julie and her husband Mark (longtime all day Oktoberfest partiers) went home with their baby. My how time has changed things. I got to rock it to some cover band music, do the Cupid Shuffle, see a guy who superglued a black mustache to his face, bump into some high school homecoming and prom dates, and tromp down the deserted parade route -- beers in hand -- with a posse of my cousins and their significant others and a few others that joined the tribe for the day. . . you get the idea. There was an incident of possibly losing an aunt of ours at a bar, but we are hoping that no news is good news and all is well. In the background of all of this, glimpses of the marshes and bluffs -- bathed in rich color -- of La Crosse. <br />
<br />
At the beer tents at the festgrounds, a monumental thing happened to me, Ab. I was jammin with my cousins, happily buzzed on Miller Lite, and this college student -- young and fresh -- ran up to me pointedly like he had been waiting a while to do it, and said: "I just wanted to tell you how hot I think you are for how old you are." And I said "for how <i>old</i> I am?" And he looked shocked, and he backtracked a bit and said, "no, I mean, you're not even 40, right?" And I said "<i>No</i>, I am not <i>forty," </i>and then he explained, "look I don't mean anything bad, I'm trying to tell you I think you are super hot," blah blah blah and I realized poor kid meant well and I should take a damn compliment. We high fived and got through the whole thing with appreciation and whatnot. But. I will never forget that moment. Time is of the essence, Ab.<br />
<br />
I was at my parents' house with Madeline in tow by 7 p.m. at which point we piled on the snacks and food and I was asleep in my chair by halftime of the Badgers game against Nebraska. It's a good thing, too, because the game went downhill from there and I am not sorry I missed it. We are having a tough sports moment in Wisconsin, but we must not despair or give up. <br />
<br />
Today, we got to sing happy birthday to my nephew, take a walk on a gorgeous fall day, and get in a few more laughs before it was time for me and Mads to hit the road back for our Peter and real life back in Madison. On the drive home we pointed out patches of trees that were particularly brilliant. The two tone seems to be fading; it seems the peak of the season, and its vibrant color may be here, or almost here. When we pulled into the driveway of our barn red house on Mifflin Street, the yard was covered in yellow leaves that were not there when we had left on Friday. <br />
<br />
I walked in to pop on the Packers game and the Saints promptly scored on us to take the lead. However, as I wrap up here, it appears the Pack has the ball with about 2 minutes left, and the lead. The Brewers were knocked out of the Wild Card race today, but had a run there at the end. So, there's some silver lining in all that is not stellar about this fall and Wisconsin sports.<br />
<br />
I reunited with Peter after our weekend apart. He had a good golf weekend and is looking ahead to some playoffs around the corner. He also had some social updates, about which he was pretty darn forthcoming, one of which was that he is going to Homecoming with a senior. OK. That really puts my little tantrum about a college guy thinking I'm hot "for how old" I am in perspective. Theoretically that poor guy was 3 years older than my kid's date to Homecoming. I think the moral of the story is time is moving damn fast, and I'd better get up to speed.<br />
<br />
I'm off to cook dinner and hope to get in some work tonight. We shall see. Either way, it's time to start another week. But also keep thinking of the longer season at hand. We are expecting a full moon tonight and I am expecting to go into winter better than ever.<br />
<br />
Miss miss miss you. Wish I could package up a breath of this fall air and its crispness, all the colors in our field of vision, and a bit of this killer caramel apple with peanuts I ungracefully ate on the parade route yesterday, and send it all to you. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-13594418450421857352012-09-27T13:03:00.001-07:002012-09-30T19:27:34.271-07:00Lala Land<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My long writing pause is over...<br />
<br />
The details seem to be holding me back. Suffice it to say: we moved to Los Angeles and are living a new LA lifestyle; Frank started a different job (at ehow, and he likes it); the kids are in LA public school (Charlie started kindergarten with grace); Henry continues to follow his acting dreams (but now from the center of the beast); and I am happy and filled with excitement about it all. phew.<br />
<br />
It has been a big summer of changes.<br />
<br />
We live in an old Spanish style home from the 1930s. We are renting the duplex, of which we get the bottom half, in an old Jewish neighborhood called Pico/Robertson right next to Beverly Hills in West LA. My favorite part about the home are all the old tiles and high arching ceilings. I have a princess bathroom covered floor to ceiling with golden yellow tiles. I am bathed in nostalgia. The plaster in my home is embellished with fleur de lys patterns just raised from the surface like a secret braille code. I can trace the decorative veins with my fingers and imagine a message whispered about old Hollywood.<br />
<br />
I feel like wearing dresses and shaving my legs more. That's what pretty architecture does for me. LA makes me feel like trying harder at glamour. I guess that's why the city gets a bad rap generally, but I find it all a breath of fresh air. I keep wearing these long lazy all in one knit dresses and appreciating how my smooth legs rub freely next to each other letting in the breeze. I love the weather and the heat and the sweat of it all. I am overcome with gratefulness that I found my way to this climate.<br />
<br />
There is a tree hanging heavy over the street filled with guavas, my very favorite fruit. I used to eat guavas with my mom by the dozens in Mexico and they just don't travel well. I rarely saw edible ones in the Midwest. Now I can pick one on the way to school in the morning with my boys. Yes! The kids walk to school. I know that Los Angeles does have more driving, but fortunately my neighborhood is pretty walkable.<br />
<br />
My home is surrounded by Jewish delis, bakeries and grocery stores. I have become a Kosher meat enthusiast and of course appreciate the hell out of every babushka grandmother I pass on the street. The entire neighborhood shuts down on Friday evening and doesn't reopen until late on Saturday night. I find myself drawn to hoard groceries on Friday morning (when the bakery is best) and nod knowingly at everyone in line, as if I know the first thing about what happens inside our local Kabbalah center. <br />
<br />
I live on a very busy street called Olympic. Some people refer to it as the wormhole of LA because you can zoom from one side of the city to another avoiding freeways if you're lucky. It means traffic sounds wash over me like white noise at all hours of the day. My nod to budgeting in LA, because certainly rental costs are crazy (especially when multiple bedrooms are needed), was to give up the ideal of a quiet street. We have no yard. My three boys climb the interior of our walls, hanging from door jambs, kick punching and pillow fighting more than ever before. I try to "run them" at one of our local parks on a daily basis, but it's not ideal. Having a yard and children in LA is a sure sign of being extremely lucky or extremely wealthy. Last weekend I went to open houses just to see what the market looks like and realized that contentment will not come from that exercise.<br />
<br />
I have been thinking much more like a mystic lately. I enjoy lots of funny special potions and energizers and toners and tonics and horoscopes and spiritual texts and much more than ever before. I can't write about it really. I always think the explaining is the part where I giggle and role my eyes and lose it. I find it impossible. But that's also why I love it. I have been searching for things that surprise and challenge me beyond words and reason and I am finding it. Have you ever read <i>Franny and Zooey</i> by Salinger? I just read it and wanted to cry. So many of the things I have been thinking about are in there and said better than I ever could.<br />
<br />
<i>I don't know what good it is to know so much and be smart as whips and all if it doesn't make you happy.</i><br />
<br />
and<br />
<br />
<i>My god, there's absolutely nothing tenth-rate about you, and yet you're up to your neck at this moment in tenth rate thinking.</i><br />
<br />
and<br />
<br />
<i>She said she knew she was able to fly because when she came down she always had dust on her fingers from touching the light bulbs.</i><br />
<br />
sigh. I just loved the book. I have been reading a lot. I also finished A.S. Byatt's <i>The Children's Book</i> which I can't recommend enough. Lots of fairy thinking and Victorian parents gone awry...<br />
<br />
More on potions. I have something I put in my smoothie every morning called Bag of Tricks. I got it at the farmer's market. Slightly chai spiced with cardamom and clove, the list of hormone balancing, stress relieving ingredients boggles the mind. I find myself saying yes every morning to a bag of tricks. And why not? It makes me happy, and I find myself less and less sure these days what type of thinking can be is classified first rate as opposed to tenth.<br />
<br />
Jimmy and Charlie are going to a public school in our neighborhood. Jimmy was voted class representative for the fifth grade last week. He is the only white kid in his class and I was worried about him fitting in, especially because I remember fifth grade in Madison being full of unfettered testosterone and cliquish behavior. But Jimmy has taken it all in stride. When he got out of school on election day we were standing on the yard and four young boys ran up to Jimmy and told him they had voted for him. My Jimmy was beaming and so proud. One of the kids told me that our family must be related to Albert Einstein because Jimmy is so smart. The boys seemed generally in awe of Jimmy's powers of intellect, and these are fifth grade boys! Giving Jimmy their vote of confidence (and friendship) and thinking he's cool for being smart. <i>what</i>? I was so overwhelmed.<br />
<br />
I expected bullies and Jimmy was instead welcomed and embraced. For example, Jimmy
sort of sucks at basketball, and yet he likes to play. These boys all let him play and be
awkward without judgement. Unexpected gift. Right here in LAUSD. I hope Jimmy can take this experience and move beyond racism. These kids from different backgrounds are all just trying to have fun and enjoy fifth grade and love being friends with Jimmy. I hope it sinks in deep. I really do. I was so negative about all of it before, and just got blindsided by my own racism and lack of faith. Really opens me up.<br />
<br />
Henry has also been getting lots of gifts lately. Great teachers and group classes at places like The Groundlings. Live comedy every weekend. He keeps getting really close on big auditions and I feel a shift happening for him. Something is going to hit soon I think. He has a lot of people pulling for him. People on his side. I can't believe that only a year ago I felt like he was an outsider. A teacher of his called a casting director the other day to recommend Henry for a role in an independent movie and tomorrow he will meet the director. It's working. We haven't made it all the way up the ladder, of course, but I just feel like he is living the dream already. Also, something that makes me happy is Henry comes to yoga with me every morning. He is my yoga partner. I never thought but it's true.<br />
<br />
I am wearing down but not without a quick commentary about fashion and quality (for dear Mads). I remember my father (who made his money in the fashion world selling high end shoes and independent labels in his twenties) absolutely hated taking me to the mall when I was young. He dreaded it because, "the mall sells bad soulless fashion." "The mall is shit," he would tell me and make fun of the cheap China made clothes from Limited Express. One year he proposed to give me twice as much spending money if we shopped at independent boutiques in Minneapolis instead of the Bloomington Mall. I was fifteen or sixteen. He showed me around Saint Anthonys on the Main (which I remember seeming totally exotic and fancy) and he patiently (glibbly?) took the time to point out quality fabrics and sewing details and fashion trends that weren't in the mall yet. I traced the quality seams with my fingers and grooved out on the fancy fabrics. And I remember being really turned on. There was a difference that I could feel -- an energy and intention that felt like soul. And that's when I decided I wanted to dress differently than other girls in my class. It's when I became a snob and a seeker, for better or for worse, and stopped shopping at malls. I remember I could only afford two sweaters and one pair of pants, and I wore the shit out of those clothes, because they were my personal epiphany, all through sophomore year. For me in my life, I have decided to spend twice as much money on fewer quality clothes. Clothes that are different and well made and make me feel special, or conversely, now that I am set free from Mall shopping, I can fucking wear thrift store treasure whenever I want, because I can't be fooled. I know what I like. It's a great feeling to step outside suburban thin drywall (mall soul suck) to find yourself delighted by cracked plaster, antique tiles, and vintage fashion finds mere pennies on the dime. Is this first or tenth rate thinking? I don't know but I come by it honestly. There was nothing sadder to me than watching East side Madison parents shuttle kids back and forth from the mall. It made me want to hug my crazy daddy and thank him for all his influence. It makes me sad to think of Maddie coveting cardboard houses, but I have great hope for her later teen years. Maybe we can take her out shopping next year when you visit LA and totally blow her mind? or show her the houses of Beverly Hills... <br />
<br />
<i>there are so many times i realize that twice as much is not really enough and quality and consumption and attachment to all that i just said is super silly... </i><br />
<br />
<br />
Well, from sunny LA, I remain your friend trying to find bliss from inside the bubble.<br />
<br />
Miss you. <br />
<br />
Abby<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-48915679437985868552012-09-18T19:47:00.001-07:002012-09-30T19:27:21.374-07:00September (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Today is the first really chilly fall-like day this
season here in Madison. It really feels
like you might be sorry if you left the house without a substantial hoodie or
closed-toe shoes. Up until now, we’ve
been having the most glorious September you could ever imagine. Well, I guess the way I’ve framed that is
very colored by my personal preferences; I just ran into somebody who was
raving about how refreshing today felt.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Me,
I’m a lover of warm weather, and with this brisk day I deeply sense the
encroaching limitations of deep fall and winter and, for that matter, much of
the spring<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– on hours of light, on our
ability to go out without dressing in layers, on our energy as we slightly
hibernate, on our activities and on the ability to see green life in our
midst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So for me, those warm bright blue
days in the 70s and low 80s, with white puffy clouds and a slight breeze,
through about, say, yesterday, were perfect in the most pure aesthetic way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they were also an extension of freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was still bombing around in my flip-flops
and not caring whether the kids were properly dressed (at least in the weather
sense) when they left for school.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">And
yes, from a social perspective, fall has already long since begun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were at the Willy Street Fair briefly this
weekend – the last festival of the season; Peter and I went to the Badgers game
on Saturday which was like a cornucopia of blissed out traditional fall
Wisconsin fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kids have been in school
several weeks now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There have been football
game Fridays, Spanish quizzes, lengthy pre-calc assignments, and seemingly
already countless packed lunches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
going to be a good year, I keep telling the kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>10<sup>th</sup> and 7<sup>th</sup> grade. . .
. 10<sup>th</sup> is the year I started really deviating; 7<sup>th</sup> is the
year all other parents around here seem to think must be endured by plugging
one’s nose and waiting it out. Notwithstanding those somewhat superficial
associations I may have with the particular grades, I’m convinced we are going
to have a great year.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">We
definitely had a great summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stuck
close to home as you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A big summer
trip really wasn’t an option, and this scenario really opened up some quality
of living here in Madison and in Wisconsin in general that it’s easy to miss
out on when you are cramming all of your vacation days and expenditures and
“family time” into one big trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had
a lot of family goings-on in the early part of the summer, as you might
imagine, after my grandma’s funeral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
grandma’s passing at the very beginning of the summer really put a focus on
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have spent a lot of time this
summer thinking about what matters in life, to be honest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That my summer was already planned to be
close to home fit well with that thought process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent time with my sisters and their
families, we got good slow time in La Crosse and the surrounding (gorgeous –
only discovering how gorgeous 35 years after being born there) area with my
parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went to the famous Madison
Saturday Farmer’s Market (8 blocks from our house but easy to miss when the
travel plans and pace get going) many times, we went camping and fished and
watched the Brewers and went to the State Fair for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We golfed and paddled and spent time with the
many, many cousins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were really good
Wisconsinites this summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We even had
some poison ivy in the family, to prove it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">This
summer we also had some interesting encounters with some new elements for our
little family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For one thing, we had a
100 year drought here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was kind of
scary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The resilient Midwestern earth
was a scorched wasteland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People were
freaked out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My garden died almost
completely (partly because I just gave up after a point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, for the record, as bad of a gardener as
I am, I have never had a garden do this poorly).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People around here started talking about this
being the “new normal”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a client
that does work on climate change issues, and those folks are basically like,
this is Exhibit A to what’s really going down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I suppose I’m now about to commit the common sin of simply recognizing
that it was freaky and glossing over, moving on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I promise to ride my bike and burn less gas
and buy less meat and . . . . really, I will, but that’s a whole other blog
post and for now I’m trying to squeeze out this re-cap of some other summer
stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">As for another new
element for us this summer -- as you know, the beau has bought a large house in
the old, distinguished, monied neighborhood of Maple Bluff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, mind you – he seized on a deal that
landed him there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that he’s not
doing well for himself, but it’s a little bit “there goes the neighborhood”
that we’re even up there, you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anyway, this summer that included some tennis and pool time at the
country club, some neighborhood gatherings that look NOTHING like the block
parties and house parties we used to rock back in the day on the near east
side, dear Abby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got to throw some
backyard parties to get everyone else that always invites me and the kids over
back (I don’t even try in our little old house anymore, but the Maple Bluff
backyard is perfect!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did some
house-sitting for extended periods while beau was out of town, and you hear
birds and see chipmunks when you get up in the morning, as opposed to my (still
lovely) city dwelling which seems constantly bombarded with the sounds of
sirens, people in the street fighting, and general traffic noise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know, I know – you live in L.A., and you’re
wondering what the hell I’m talking about – Madison?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, actually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">So
we hung out some up in Maple Bluff and at first this seemed like it would be an
illustrious fun adventure for the summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With complete open-mindedness and a slight hint of excitement that maybe
I could play-act or be the outlier or just adjust to belonging in that world
TOO, I was rather looking forward to a potential extended adventure in this
somewhat cloistered, aesthetically gorgeous new slice of Madison.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, true confessions: it didn’t take long
for me to honestly realize and feel that it’s just not my scene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This should come as no surprise to anyone who
knows me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean the natural features
can’t be beat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you have to drive up
and down a hill to even so much as get a newspaper, and, maybe I need more
time, but I just didn’t feel the vibe of the people all that much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I guess for now I think t</span>here’s nothing about that world that’s
all that enticing to me now that I’ve seen it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I guess if I happen to get to enjoy it and be invited “in”, I’ll
continue to enjoy it as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
I know you know all about needing an escape or theoretical “other world” from the world we usually dwell in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many years did we gather around the kitchen table in a neighborhood in Madison that people engineer their lives around getting to live in, and both talk about our respective (imagined or real) next moves, steps to get out, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now you’ve really made yours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me, not so much – well, or at least not in the last 7 years or so, after all the international adventuring stopped and I had to get to work here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess Maple Bluff was a little escape for me, and in the end it was kind of like a vacation to a place that’s really pretty and you have really good memories of, but you’re not exactly planning to move there.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Peter
and Madeline both shared in the Maple Bluff experience, became occasional
country club dwellers, and also ran into a few new elements of their own . . .
Peter was a caddy, so got to see what being a service provider was all about,
and what making money of his own was all about, which I think made a pretty big
impression on him, actually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s
already talking about maybe we can’t take a vacation next summer because he’s
going to have a job (I’m convincing him every job permits time off).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Madeline is on a full-fledged campaign that
this virtuous city-living in an old house in an eclectic neighborhood is total
CRAP and we should have long ago moved to where her cousins live in Holmen,
Wisconsin, where everyone has brand new houses with fresh carpet that are three
times as big as ours but cost about the same amount (she actually knows this;
I’m not kidding – the kid reviews house listings online to verify the basis of
her arguments).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She reminds me that
their schools have enough money that they don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need </i>to have PTG fundraisers, and they have brand new gym
equipment, and the people there are not all hippies who don’t let their kids
shop at the mall, etc, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You get the
point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girl is on to the very
significant impact a very well-intentioned decision made eleven years ago to
live on Madison’s East Side and raise these children in this accepting,
progressive community (or as it is thought of by some, anyway) has had on,
well, everything in her world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And,
she’s not so sure she appreciates the woodwork of our 110 year old rental home
or her ability to bike to school along the river path or the summer festivals
in our neighborhood or that any other factor really outweighs her interest in fresh
construction, a finished basement, and a posse of girlfriends with good make-up
and hair.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Speaking
of moves, you are now in L.A.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Frank has
a new job, Henry’s climbing the ladder of his Hollywood acting career, Jimmy
seems to have found some things to get excited about there (although, more
information, please), and Charlie has started kindergarten (!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like maybe you could write all day and
I’d still need to see this all with my own eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I really wouldn’t know since you
haven’t written (aw, snap! – just kidding).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anyway, we must, must get out there next summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tell us more in the meantime – please!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">I guess on my side of
this blog, and in my little family, we’ve all done a little digging in on where
we’re from, where we are and where we really want to be (all things being
equal).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s been some slow and
steady realization of what sheer goodness, albeit not glitzy, we come from and
have before us here in Wisconsin with our big crazy extended family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s been some reckoning with the truly
specific and odd combination of factors that make up our life on the Isthmus in
Madison.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then, there’s been that
healthy dose of escapism too, especially for Mads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although I must admit that observing Peter
taking driver’s education and working this summer, and now starting Year 2 of
high school, my new thing is a combination of the real deal AND escape, which
is – in a few years the whole game changes again for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maddy and I will be sending our Peter off to
college in less than 3 years, and if the past is any gauge. . . I’d better hold
on because it’ll be here soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What will
that next chapter be like for all of us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For now, I’m trying to use the awareness that it’ll come one day to slow
me down here today and here with what I’ve got and make sure I’m doing right by
it and planning for the future but not letting myself get too bogged down with
work and planning and stress to savor and enjoy and again, do it right and not
frenetically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s really really hard to
do that, and it’s so cliché to even say it that I don’t want to even say
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, that’s what I got.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did a good job at points this summer, and
I’m trying to carry that forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Work
is full of challenges but very very good, I am earning, I am making progress on
goals with various things, and I am really trying to be thoughtful about these
kids and who they are and what they need and want and how I play into
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I can’t hold on to notions
of control, but I still have a pretty big job in the whole process.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">September’s always that
time when you can see things visibly changing, you hold on a little to the
freedom and warmth of summer, you enjoy the freshness in the air but note with some pause the
pending changes. . .l what’s September like for you? </span><span style="font-family: 'Californian FB', serif; font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-52718843377620942382012-06-26T15:06:00.001-07:002012-06-26T15:08:17.082-07:00Happy, Happy Birthday!! (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear Abby:<br />
<br />
Happy, Happy Birthday to YOU! We thought we might be celebrating together this year, here in Madison, but alas, it did not come together. When I woke up this morning I thought of you and our original plans but I actually thought it might be okay we didn't get together because I don't think I could have sustained hosting or preparing for a party today!<br />
<br />
I just came off a whirlwind couple of weeks after my grandma's funeral. The kids got out of school, which as you know changes everything, we were on the road for Father's Day and partying it up in La Crosse with a bunch of cousins and relatives for high school graduations and Father's Day festivities, and then my sweetest ever 20-year-old cousin came to stay most of last week because she had to have oral surgery (and recover) here in Madison. By Saturday night she was ready for salsa dancing so I had my first out-til-3 a.m. night in as long as I can remember this past weekend. Sunday and Monday after, my sister Anna and her little girls were here. So today, I'm celebrating in a way that works in the context of all that's been going on. Ran this morning, had an abbreviated but otherwise normal work day -- with added awesome treats of flowers and cards and gifts from colleagues (so sweet!) -- now grabbing a little "me" time to catch up on emails and random work stuff at a coffee shop before a quick swim and a cookout with the beau and kids.<br />
<br />
What are you doing today? I hope it's good to you, whatever it is. I fear that Frank's work schedule will not let up too much, but I hope you either get some Abby time or family time or date night time or whatever trips your trigger.<br />
<br />
Someone reminded me today that I am now old enough to be the President. That's a little scary. Does this magical age really mean I'm that mature? (Then again, looking around at elected officials, perhaps any assumption of maturity is misled; but at a minimum our founders thought 35 was a relevant benchmark).<br />
<br />
I do feel as if 35 is an age you kind of can't deny is up there enough that any mistakes excused by youthfulness are no longer possible (for other reasons, sure, but. . . .). On the up side, I think I've got a pretty good vantage point on drama and distraction and I'm ready to be pretty real with myself about what matters, being present, focusing on the task at hand, etc. -- a la recent posts. Do you feel that way? <br />
<br />
I guess there are still a lot of question marks and mysteries about the world around us and ourselves; thank goodness, otherwise life would be pretty boring. But, the core stuff seems pretty settled. And therefore tolerance for BS pretty low, which can be a good and bad thing. I guess as long as you couple that with a healthy dose of compassion it's okay.<br />
<br />
This morning Peter and I were up together getting him ready to go to a golf tournament, and I said in my pre-coffee haze: "Yep, I guess I'm gettin' pretty old, Peter." And he says, "Aw Mom; I think you're just looking at it all wrong. What you should be thinking is you're 35 and you have a 15-year-old and a 12-year-old, and a whole life ahead of you." Deep, sweet thoughts from my teenager. I cherish that one.<br />
<br />
I miss ya, Ab. Would've been fun to party for the birthdays. But have a drink for me and spend some time this birthday week thinking about our next little reunion and what that should look like. Miss you madly, actually, and your boys. Would be cool to be around the long kitchen table with y'all tonight. We need to make that happen. <br />
<br />
You're gorgeous, smart as hell, and full of adventure. I hope you feel all of that today and are getting some good feedback from those around you. Love!</div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-87388997127532369202012-06-05T18:05:00.001-07:002012-06-07T21:18:06.163-07:00Being Present (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It means a lot, a real lot, to me that you read my amazing grandma's obituary and cried, and you captured something important in your reflections. What she did with what she had -- be fully, without abandon, in the life she led -- is really, really what it is all about.<br />
<br />
I have had a chance to write about her at some length in these last weeks, and maybe I will send you, privately, the essay that I sent for a family collection of stories and reflections that my aunt was putting together for her for her birthday in July. My grandma didn't get to see the final collection but the stories were already coming in when she was getting more and more worn down, so they just started reading them to her instead, mine included.<br />
<br />
My hesitation to post that essay here goes along with one of my planned blog posts: "Dignity and Decorum in the Post-Digital Age." I've been thinking about how we manage this blog and stay authentic and interesting while not turning into hated assholes who only have each other by the end of it all because everybody's so appalled by all we wrote. Anyway, I think we'll figure it out. <br />
<br />
For now, I have nothing too philosophical or composed to say. <br />
<br />
But your timing on saying something about "Being Present" was impeccable. Madeline was just yelling at me in the grocery store parking lot for losing my phone in my purse and then proceeding to take a work call and send a text and -- well, you get it.<br />
<br />
I have also failed Peter miserably this week by not "Being Present" with him as he works his way through Round 2 High School Finals. I am so thinking about the things he forgot or didn't quite put the effort in on and so thinking about the end game that I am just acting like a huge psychobitch narrating and nagging in my own little sphere as he, young man, truly approaches a new task and tries to figure it out. I haven't been present for that process. Enough, anyway.<br />
<br />
Tonight is different. We are here and Mads is playing her lovely piano recital song. Peter and his friends were here working on a group project and I had some nice moments with everybody. Now he's just walked in with a new haircut I sent him off for on his own. He looks all tall and grown up. We've got a little Brewers Cubs in the background and soon Recall Election results. Say what you will about your exhaustion with the politics of Madison, but there is so much energy surrounding that today you almost can't NOT be present in the moment of it and the kids and I are all captivated along with the rest of Wisconsin (and some of the world).<br />
<br />
Another sweetness tonight -- a work colleague stopped by with gorgeous salad, homemade mac n cheese, bread, and amazing brownies -- her condolences. That just made me bubble over with appreciation. People who care and food to match. Meanwhile my family home in La Crosse is overflowing with that -- and my sisters are there already with their babies. I am still here Being Present with the kids and the last week of school. We'll be headed for services and the weekend in La Crosse on Friday. I'm going without plan or agenda and will absorb and be still.<br />
<br />
When we're old ladies we'll be making sure we both stay healthy and enjoy being sassy with an excuse. We'll have the occasional howling laugh around the dining room table but if we have to stay in touch by late-night blog so our days can be spent rocking babies and going to grandkids' school concerts and teaching our kids and their spouses recipes from our past, so be it.<br />
<br />
Peace and Presence be with you, Ab. Let's do this thing, this one thing it's really all about.</div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-3607938054968838122012-06-04T14:56:00.002-07:002012-06-04T15:01:16.432-07:00GrandmaSorry to hear about your grandma. She was awe inspiring.<br />
<br />
My fetish for a particular grandma ideal is alive and well. I still sometimes poke through thrift stores searching for the remnants of an age gone by. Aprons. Lace. Quilts. Cookie cutters. Canning jars. I know it's all bullshit but I can't help myself.<br />
<br />
In sunny San Diego the thrifting is not as good. Most of the grandma transplants inhabit second life mobile homes and prefer yoga and beach walking to caring for grandbabies. They don't bake and might even be vegans! Do they visit their grandchildren on the holidays or host them here for a visit to the beach? Where would the children sleep in the mobile trailers? The image confuses me -- the lack of coziness painful.<br />
<br />
My own grandmothers are nothing like the story book version in my head. My Grandma Helen cooks with Campbells soup and reads bad romance novels. She doesn't like to sew and is luke warm on nurturing in general. I love her fiercely but would never ask her for a favor. My Grandma Lorraine lives in an Arizona trailer park that allows two weekends a year for children to visit the premises. She likes shuffle board and gambling. We never visit. Going back a generation I remember my Great Grandma Mildred smoking long brown Moore cigarettes and drinking luke warm coffee well into her hundreds. She could garden and can with the best of 'em but failed to take an interest in anything I ever did. It stings a bit. The gap between what I wanted and what I got.<br />
<br />
The complete indifference my parents display for my own children slips the ideal further afield. Somehow I know they feel it, their total failure to connect with what is right in front of them, the distance much further than a life across the country. My parents (and in laws) continuously check in on facebook or cspan for meaning while spending time together. (And that generation says we are addicted to social media.) They don't twitter but somehow they are staring at a screen while grandchildren take their first steps or try to show them a drawing. They are absent even when present. I want to shake them but somehow together we find solace in taking photos of memories for facebook.<br />
<br />
Their visits feel like poking at a wound. The vague memory of a mother and a giant 1980s mobile phone and an empty fridge. Something about that. <br />
<br />
Right now I am teaching Charlie about eye contact. Really I am trying to teach him about being present, about paying attention to who is there at the moment. It occurs to me that my own behavior needs tweaking. I turn off my phone. I watch myself.<br />
<br />
Almost nothing else is possible if you really want to be present for your kids. Not really. None of us can multitask. I am particularly bad at it.<br />
<br />
You sure as hell can't quilt or bake or make jelly or any of those storybook grandma things I find appealing. It doesn't matter if it's facebook or lace making. Not really. We all want desperately to escape. I struggle. I have stopped thrifting. I try to only write at night or do yoga before the kids awake.<br />
<br />
And in regards to your last post... maybe I am an entrepreneur or maybe an artist or maybe a fill in the blank. It doesn't matter to me really. Yes money needs to come in the house to survive, but beyond that I don't care much. My path is to try and be an attentive mom. That's all. I want to be the kind of parent (and grandparent) who is around and useful and can make eye contact. This may sound easy and simplistic, and god love the people who find this so, but for me it means unlearning generations of failure and neglect. It means giving up on storybook idealism. I want to undo the cycle. I just do. And it's crazy hard.<br />
<br />
I cried when I read your grandmother's obituary. I was going to put a link here on the blog but I thought maybe you should decide if that's appropriate. I cried particularly here,<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Marilyn loved babies. Nothing delighted her as much as rocking, reading to, and caring</i><br />
<i>for the babies in her family. She never forgot a grandchild’s birthday and attended many of their</i><br />
<i>performances, school and sporting events. </i><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now that's a good thing to have written about you at the end of the day. That's the best. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I will report that attentiveness has gotten easier since moving to San Diego. I find it much simpler to focus in on family without all the distractions of an extended community. Maybe this has more to say about my own introverted qualities, but I definitely find more delight in parenting outside of the hubbub of Madison and other adult friendships. I was interested in your Grandma Marilyn's experience being so very different from my own. She found community and nurturing synonymous. How lucky. Perhaps this is where some of your own instincts arise MB?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I have found myself at many parks with Charlie over the past year. The mom groups seated together on the grass always interest me because they resemble the old me, the Madison me. The moms sort of ignore their kids, talking fast with their girlfriends (sometimes about their own kids who are present), desperate it seems to communicate all the minutia of their lives. Their general repose is the opposite of what I want. It is delightful to be at a park with your child. It is delightful to talk with friends. It is really hard to do both things at once delightfully. The distraction of friendships is the same as looking away at your phone. It is trying to be absent and present at the same time. It seems impossible even though I did it through ten years of parenting. I am happy that I have had this last year with Charlie to show him my best self. I believe I will be working on all this for a lifetime.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Please slap me if when I am an old grandma I have moved away from my children to an ashram or some such bullshit. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-17350012724337424012012-05-20T09:27:00.005-07:002012-06-07T21:18:24.085-07:00I Think We Are Entrepreneurs (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I haven't historically been that into Myers Briggs types. Similar to my reaction to horoscopes and signs of the Zodiac, I gobble up fun insights and true-ringing characterizations that can come from these types of things, but I never think to ask people what type or sign they are, and I haven't memorized much at all about various types or characteristics in either case. I do realize Myers Briggs and the Zodiac are completely different. I only compare because of my very amateur knowledge of both. <br />
<br />
I took the Myers Briggs test as you requested, and I am an <a href="http://typelogic.com/enfj.html">ENFJ</a>. I am not sure about this. I think I took the test years ago and put in a bunch of different answers -- still honest, mind you, but I think I am a changing person. But I do admit I think I got the same result. I think being an ENFJ feels like pressure. (I am a tired ENFJ, okay!) I often ruminate on the fact that I'm NOT as giving or empathetic as I would like to be. So, I'm not sure if I'm the best ENFJ around. Well, I guess that's obvious, considering Abraham Lincoln was an ENFJ. <br />
Here are the parts I like about your INFJ profile description, Ab: <br />
"The INFJ individual is gifted in ways that other types are not. Life is not
necessarily easy for the INFJ, but they are capable of great depth of feeling
and personal achievement."<br />
and<br />
". . . they have very high expectations of themselves, and frequently of their
families. They don't believe in compromising their ideals." <br />
<br />
The part about your description I do NOT agree with, at least as it pertains to you, is: "They are not good at dealing with minutia or very detailed tasks."<br />
I believe I have observed you organize about four (4) large Rubbermaid containers full of legos for an entire day, and have also seen an entire felted vegetable set you created for Charlie, complete with realistic stems and seed stitches. I would say you have a gift for (creative) minutia.<br />
<br />
I think in your passionate and frank last post, regarding your dream, you talk about uncertainties, but they are not really uncertainties about your dream. Thing is, you articulate gloriously what your dream is: <br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"My dream is not a destination but a style of living. I want to keep things simple and graceful."<o:p></o:p></span></span></o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">". . . To find beauty and magic in all the little things. . ."<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">". . . to live effortlessly. . . "</span><br />
". . . [for] my kids to have time to figure out what's interesting to them. . . "<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I spent last night working on some things at home and intermittently weeping over the loss of a community member here in Madison who died of colon cancer. I didn't even know she had colon cancer. She was a mom a bit older than us, with kids about the same age as Peter and Henry. She had gone back to law school as a non-traditional student and was kicking ass all over the place, involved in stuff, engaged. And within a year and half from diagnosis she was gone. We can set dreams to the highest hilt, to the most detailed degree, but life is more powerful than us. But, we can't live limiting ourselves, cowering in the looming possibility that life won't let us play out our dreams, either. It seems we must set our dreams in a way that simultaneously allows us the greatest possibility to run our lives out for the full long haul, actualized, fulfilled, contributing, and positive, while not compromising the days between, should -- God forbid -- life have different plans for us. <br />
<br />
It's a much more true-to-life description to say your dream is to live gracefully and effortlessly, and for your kids to find their own passions, than to say you hope to sack away a million bucks by the time you're fifty (50) or that you want to build a house in Mexico or that you want to start your own art gallery or pilates studio or whatever. You have a good chance of realizing your dream and being sure your dream is accurately what you want under this approach.<br />
<br />
In short, contrary to the title of your last post, I think you DO have a clue what your dream is, I think it is a good one, and I think you might be getting to it. But I think, like me, you get jammed up on all the uncertainties and steps and drudgery and decisions to be made on the actual path of moving forward on this dream. Your last post focuses a lot on jobs and identities defined by jobs, and making money. To me, these acts -- the work we do and how we pay the bills -- these are the steps we take to realize our dreams. But they're not our dreams. <br />
<br />
Remember that epic emotion ballad by the Verve "Bittersweet Symphony"? Here, you can watch them play it in Glastonbury (another story, but I camped there once when I was pregnant with Peter and got to go to the famed tor and medieval fountain of youth that brings pilgrammages of readers of <u><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mists_of_Avalon">The Mists of Avalon</a></u> there): <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GnWRjoP9mQ">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GnWRjoP9mQ</a>. Anyway, as a young person I was extremely moved by the inherent, deep, universal-feeling sound and sentiment of this song. But I was always confused by the line "try to make ends meet, you're a slave to money, then you die." Now, say what you will about the extremely melodramatic nature of that line, and whether a bunch of world-famous UK singers can pull off singing it, but now that I'm older, I kind of smile when I hear it because sometimes life CAN slightly feel like that. I mean for those of us without a trust fund, aren't we bascially always thinking about how we're going to make the money we need, and doesn't that issue have at least the power and potential to really have us by the balls? This is a part of the paralysis we can feel about our dreams when what we're really stuck on is the steps we're taking to get there.<br />
<br />
It sounds like the question of "what you're doing" is making you sweat when you're answering the question of "what's your dream." But I think I have a solution for that -- for both of us.<br />
<br />
Here is the part I like about my profile description, Ab:<br />
"Many ENFJs have tremendous entrepreneurial ability."<br />
<br />
I like this part best because I often feel that if I could just put all my good ENFJ intentions out in the world in my own format, under my own vision, and according to my own principles, I'm fairly certain I could be very successful in creating some great stuff. It's all the damn rules and unavoidable conflicting responsibilities that get in the way! I, too, am hung up on the steps of getting to the dream, instead of the dream. In an effortless world where all things fall into place, I have a dream (or 100!), and I'm certain I could reach the dream famously.<br />
<br />
I guess what we both need to work on is not only answering the question "what's your dream?" in a way that contemplates all the uncertainties of life, but also answering the question "what are you going to do about it?" And your last post certainly also explores the question of "how do I define what I'm doing now?" You have your ample share of variety and breadth in the various professions and experiments and accomplishments you have taken on, from artist to pilates instructor to baker to illustrator to home renovator to host of art club and so many things I can't do justice here. I've already articulated through this blog and otherwise that I believe in your primary profession -- MOM -- you kick serious ass. But, through all of those accomplishments and roles, you're left feeling empty about that one, consistent role that others seem to have. Some people can define themselves as writers or teachers or doctors or artists. Although I may be defined often as a lawyer, single mom, non-profit Executive, etc., even I feel this same anxiety about not being quite able to put my finger on whether any of those roles should really define me, whether any of them can properly encapsulate the dream I would like to live, if only these pesky daily responsibilities and money-making and dish-washing and negotiating-the-phone bill could get out of my way. The roles we've played are steps toward the dream, but they're not the dream. Maybe we should forget about defining who-we-are and what-we-do and just get down to business on the dream, but I fear we humans have a gluttonous desire for definitions (at least I do). I want to give things a name, and have a clear response when asked (even if only by myself) what the hell I am doing.<br />
<br />
I think if we must define who we are and what we do in a universal sense, in a way that can carry the dream forward for each of us, I suggest we think about it like this:<br />
<br />
"We are entrepreneurs". Here is a nice thorough wiki post about the full meaning and history of the word and concept: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Entrepreneur">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Entrepreneur</a><br />
<br />
I'll let you take a look and consider all the ways this word might apply to what you have been doing, what you are doing, and similarly, what I'm up to -- not only in the work force, but as moms, seekers, lovers of life, and artists. The Webster definitition of the word goes something like this: "one who organizes, manages and assumes the risk of a business or enterprise."<br />
<br />
Our enterprise is the dream; and we are certainly doing nothing if not organizing, managing, and assuming risk related to that enterprise. You have fairly well defined your enterprise, your dream, as I've summarized above. I still need to work on how to explain my dream. It's in there somewhere but I'll get it out in a future post. For now, if we wish to seek comfort in a definition about who-we-are and what-we-do, I'm inclined to embrace the term "entrepreneur", an all-encompassing definition of all the steps we're taking, things we're learning, and progress we're making on the dream, rather than try to pinpoint what role or act or creation or single profession that could possibly define us or what we do.<br />
<br />
I think <a href="http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/">Penelope Trunk</a>, fellow former Madison resident (who -- fun fact -- lived in the house that my family lived in while I was in law school, after we moved out), acquaintance of yours, and source of much good blogging entertainment for both of us, would approve (PS I just looked at her blog again and was reminded: she is <em>OUTRAGEOUS</em>!).<br />
<br />
And, I do believe "entrepreneur" might fit for both INFJ and ENFJ. But I welcome your thoughts.<br />
With total appreciation.<br />
<br /></div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-29111757121643279652012-05-18T18:23:00.004-07:002012-12-06T10:33:42.473-08:00I Don't Have a Clue What My Dream Is<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Do you geek out on Myers Briggs types Mary Beth? I am an <a href="http://www.personalitypage.com/INFJ.html">INFJ</a>,
which is just to say, that I am intuitive and introverted. I have a
hard time explaining myself but feel and judge things constantly and
intensely. It has given me great solace as an adult to understand why
my motivations are different from other peoples. INFJs make bad employees and tend to devalue money. INFJs are creative and good at meeting their own needs. INFJs need to trust their own instincts. You
should take the test <a href="http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/jtypes2.asp">here</a>. I wonder what type you are? <br />
<br />
I have spent a lot of time not understanding my own motivations but trusting my gut. Quite often I feel lost when I compare myself with other people. Now I learn that INFJs are only one percent
of the population. Go figure.<br />
<br />
<br />
So you asked me about my dreams? Somehow the question makes me nervous and sweaty. I feel like I have to explain myself. I'm an INFJ. Right? To me this means that I will continue to try and order my dreams around strong ideals and intuition. I will get lost and actually that's ok with me. I will always be creative. I will focus on process more than destination. It means I don't know.<br />
<br />
I have tried being an <a href="http://apps.carleton.edu/curricular/arts/majors/hist/">art historian</a>. A <a href="http://www.letoile-restaurant.com/">baker</a>. An <a href="http://www.abbysartclub.blogspot.com/">arts educator</a>. A <a href="http://pilatespa.com/">Pilates</a> instructor. A seller of <a href="http://www.gayfeatherfabrics.com/">fine fabrics</a>. An <a href="http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1G1-122682504.html">artist</a>. A <a href="http://yobiddy.blogspot.com/">blogger</a>. A <a href="http://www.zaziesf.com/zazie/home.html">waitress</a>. A <a href="http://lasthouseproductions.com/TheBully.html">stagemom</a>. <br />
<br />
<i>sigh.</i><br />
<br />
It always goes something like this.........<br />
<br />
<i>When I went to college I had no idea what I wanted to do. Then I attended a lecture given by a beautiful woman in the dark. She flashed sultry images like some sort of fever dream. Fleshy Rubens
nudes made me want to lick something. All my muscles relaxed. I
decided a major in art history was the most sensual thing I could possibly do with my life.</i><br />
<br />
<i>But later, when I try to turn art history into a
job, everything seems hopeless. At The Art Institute of Chicago crabby
women scuttle around frowning about grants and docents. In graduate school professors make art theory sound like some sort
of political diatribe. Tension crackles through hunched shoulders. Overly clever words beg for relief. I am in the wrong place. Change scene.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I have changed scene my fair share of times. I think this seems lucky.<br />
<br />
Mary Beth, I want to tell you all these stutter steps are totally fine with me and make perfect sense. That would be my 1A.M. lie in the mirror. What's the point? Self doubt sinks in constantly. I feel like I should pursue a practical thing like nursing and help take some pressure off Frank. Currently my sweet workaholic husband is having a meltdown over his job. He feels the corporate suck. He would like a break. Talk about drawing a bad hand. I was hoping if Frank liked his work I could fly under the radar. No such luck.<br />
<br />
I often believe I am a huge fraud at 1A.M. Really. And selfish.<br />
<br />
I like to write and I want to tell you that my dream is to be a writer. I have no clue. It sounds weird to say it. But I do write. I also draw. Does this mean I should be an illustrator? It just doesn't follow in my brain. I recently had a friend who was making a line of herbal essences with animal themes. She needed images for all the little bottles. I drew her the animals. She loved them and couldn't believe I could draw like that. I laughed because I can't believe it's anything special. People can't draw animals? Why? It's really just that my skills don't seem to equal cash money. <br />
<br />
Money is an issue for me currently. I feel guilty about not earning any. It helps that we don't have a mortgage anymore. I am slowly getting rid of things. I want to live more and more monastic. I have realized that in order to not value money you have to live cheap. This is not easy in California. In California children are luxury items because rent goes up by a grand with each extra bedroom. Why can't we all just sleep together I wonder? The older children cringe.<br />
<br />
I haven't been spending hardly any money lately.<br />
<br />
My favorite place in Los Angeles is called <a href="http://clementineonline.com/">Clementines</a>.
I go there every Saturday and buy myself a special pastry and tea. I
try not to blanch at the $10 price tag. Last week I was in line behind a beautiful California style family with two kids and they were ordering food for the entire weekend for pickup. They were using Clementines like a grocery store. They left with almost $400 dollars worth of seasonal soups and breads and little delights for their weekend. Done. I wanted to tear my eyes out -- not because I thought they were silly, but because I wanted to be them and I hated myself for it. When I sat down I made myself pause and feel super grateful for my ten dollar afternoon tea. It really was enough.<br />
<br />
My dream is to transcend. To find beauty and magic in all the little things. To stop asking myself such hard questions about what I'm going to be when I grow up as if I'm ever going to come up with the answer to that riddle.<br />
<br />
<br />
I just want to live effortlessly, you know? This may sound like
Zen spiritual mumbo jumbo, but I can't really put it any other way. My
dream is not a destination but a style of living. I want
to keep things simple and graceful. Everything I have ever pursued has
been about grace and a real aversion to struggle. I can't compare myself with the Beverly Hills types, but I certainly admire their taste. I hope taste isn't just about money. I don't think it is.<br />
<br />
On the subject of education, we all need to bring more grace to the table, right? We are all losing it. Fear reigns supreme. The expectations we place on our kids are crazy unreal. There are Mandarin lessons being taught after school all over the place. Private tutors galore. Are there high school classes that aren't advanced placement? I know of two month SAT prep classes over the summer. Two months. These kids are getting perfect scores on the SAT after taking these classes. So then what is the value of the test? Do all college bound kids need to take these courses just to keep up? Kids need to read before entering kindergarten. Really? Shit. <i>I better get Charlie to work</i>. There is this huge inflation bubble hanging over higher education that could burst at any moment. I used to be the person thinking that we were not doing enough. I know. I have changed my mind. Now I just think kids need to find themselves <a href="http://homeschooling.penelopetrunk.com/2012/04/27/top-universities-want-you-to-homeschool/">outside of school</a>. And forget about concepts like permanence and financial aid. I don't even think that home school is necessarily the answer for everyone (especially not for extroverts), but I think that having time and fluid expectations will ease the pain.<br />
<br />
And kids should not look stressed out. We need our kids to look beautiful and lithe, otherwise who will? I am so happy to hear that Peter is six feet tall. Amazing. <br />
<br />
I just want my kids to have time to figure out what's interesting to them. Time to figure out self worth and style beyond grades and transcripts. I am not signing them up for enrichment classes or telling them what classes to take. Jimmy is going back to public school next year. If we move to LA they will all be in the craziest public school system in the country --- <a href="http://school-ratings.com/cities/Los_Angeles.html">LAUSD</a>. <i>gasp</i>. This should be some awesome new material for our blog at the very least. The bottom line is I'm not a tiger mom. I just can't fake it.<br />
<br />
I also want to respect my kids if they don't have dreams or ambitions that are traditionally predictable. The Myers Briggs test can also be taken by children (after a certain age of course). If you have a kid like me, there's no education formula obviously. Remember in college I just wanted to lick things and look at sexy <a href="https://www.google.com/search?tbm=isch&hl=en&source=hp&biw=1120&bih=566&q=rubens+nudes&gbv=2&oq=rubens+nudes&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&gs_l=img.3...3611.6686.0.7265.12.9.0.3.0.0.139.651.8j1.9.0...0.0.Oj6yu2n1tzM">Rubens nudes</a>. Do I want to pay for that fun if one of my kids is an INFJ? I think in the future any INFJ child-o-mine will be encouraged to follow their intuition outside of the bounds of traditional education.<br />
<br />
More later. Miss you.<br />
Abby <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-40216058677163406042012-05-17T06:02:00.001-07:002012-06-07T21:18:35.677-07:00Mirror Under Florescent Lights at 1 a.m. (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hey again, Abigale. Just letting you know that ever since I read your last post, and wrote my response, I've realized I've been harping on the "work and toil and figure out the main game" theme way too hard with myself and my kids. I think my last post tries to emphasize the importance of the balance between instilling and honoring basic work values and the ability to play by the rules to ensure survival, versus encouraging and inspiring the outlandish dreams that might be seeds of greatness. But in reality, I've been way more concerned about me and my kids playing by the rules, and -- true confession -- I have become quite the nagging mother about it all. I guess even after reflection these last days, I stand by my pleas for balance between the two approaches -- get your bearings on the main game and hard work while never abandoning crazy dreams. But I've started a new mantra at home, and as I speak it, I realize how unfamiliar it feels: "What's your dream?" My little family has been missing that, at least as a legitimate way to talk about things, for a little while now, what with the onset of high school and those damn permanent transcripts (Peter), the start of middle school and real deadlines and grades (Madeline), and the 7-year-itch in the work force since law school graduation (Me -- trying like hell to play by the rules since 2005). Not to mention the constant pounding of the radio news and TV news telling us about how much harder it is to make it these days, talking about kids living at home til they are thirty (30) years old, talking about this and future generations not being able to own their own house, talking about college being so hard and expensive to get into . . . .but perhaps this context, this horrible economy, actually makes your case. If we're facing such poor odds on such hard work, why not roll the dice on the dream? Thanks for the reminder, my mirror under florescent lights at 1 a.m. We mustn't forget the possibility of those rare and special dreams and the rare and special ways we may just pull off a good con. Lord knows playing by the rules isn't a cakewalk either way. <br />
<br />
What's your dream, baby?</div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-66694242026775044812012-05-13T20:03:00.000-07:002012-06-07T21:18:47.411-07:00Mother's Day from Wisconsin (and, the long haul) (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Aw baby! Why did I abandon this blog for over two (2) months? You just made my adrenaline level go up a little higher than it's been for probably the whole time since I last checked in, Ab. You're a hell of a writer, and I realize why life has been just a bit drabber since you left for the Coast. You are a mirror under florescent lights at 1 a.m. for me -- and I mean that in the best possible way. You always provide a solid challenge to my comfortable assumptions, and that's why I love you.
Due to the sheer delay on my part in getting back to you, this post is going to have a little bit of housekeeping before I get at the very important themes of your last post.<br />
<br />
First, obviously no April Spring Break trip to see you ever did happen. We took a more standard route to visit friends and family on the east coast. You might say it was a safe choice, and pleasant. Would have been great to get there with y'all but thing is, your kids and my kids were not off school same time, so it seemed like it might not work, and the logistics and money were making me a bit trigger-shy. We got a great option to go east and it was easy to take. It was a good get-away. Maybe that's another post.<br />
<br />
Second, our birthdays are coming. And, through the minimal email that has occurred between us I have surmised that you guys may be back in Sconnie for it. (Dear readers, if you are out there, Abigale and I do in fact commit to focus our communication solely on this blog, thus keeping its true lady-friend letter-writing tradition-based authenticity in tact, but occasionally a simple blast from Ab to Henry's fan club back home or a quick exchange regarding potential travel plans does happen via email). Regarding our upcoming birth date, potentially in Wisconsin, do I feel another DJ Frank dance party coming on? I will never forget the one a few years ago when many of my relatives, including my parents, and many of our East Side friends came on down to the Mercury for a true throw-down including full blown chanting in unison to "Don't You Want Me Baby" that old call-and-response 80s tune (classic).<br />
<br />
Third, you have had quite the whirlwind of call-backs and potentially life-changing developments in Henry's young acting career since you last wrote. I am not actually sure if good "luck", as you would term it, has won the day. You'll have to fill me in.<br />
<br />
Fourth, it's Mother's Day, and that should not go un-acknowledged. How was yours? You certainly deserve to be showered with love and affection today. As your last post most eloquently details, you have put your boys' education (I think I mean that in the Spanish sense, educacion, "raising") first and in fact made it your passionate life pursuit. As for my Mother's Day, it's been good and it seems like everyone else's has too. When I say everyone, I mean the ladies I most wish a happy Mother's Day for -- my mom, grandma, sisters, and friends. But, I also mean "everyone". I have recently made the mistake of starting to read Facebook on my phone (I previously set up an account in the early days, accepted several hundred friend requests, then promptly abandoned the email linked to it and ignored it for six-month intervals; now, I can read the news feed at any damn time of the day). According to Facebook, it seems just about everyone is having an amazing Mother's Day, complete with documentation of every breakfast in bed and gift given and many overtures about the greatness of individual and all moms ever to live. Mine, as I mentioned, was quite pleasant, especially when considered historically. I could tell you some stories about the trials and tribulations of Mother's Day as a single mom. There have been some pretty solid ones (for example, when I had law firm tickets to the luxury box at Miller Park) and some pretty shaky ones, of which an entire memoir could be written, that could basically represent the dysfunction of a tight-knit single parent family. These shaky Mother's Days generally include me planning something that I want to do with the kids, and then spending the whole day fighting with them about how they should be trying to be nice and enjoy it and do what I want to do because it's Mother's Day. This has included brunches in cute Mother's Day spots, day-trips for a hike, and even a ferry ride to Uruguay from Buenos Aires when we were living in Argentina. In all of these "shaky" cases the worst part is that inevitably there are families nearby who are going through the motions of a pretty pleasant Mother's Day experience, and whose presence reminds me how pathetic our Bridget Jones version of the holiday is. Now that Facebook exists on my phone, that contrast was slightly present today despite the fact that we -- purposely -- spent most of today around the house ("my hubby surprised me with. . . /I am chillin by the pool in a tropical destination on Mother's Day!/my cutest ever kids are cuddled up in my king-sized bed with me with a well-planned gift"). All in all this one was right in the middle, and I feel pretty pleased about it. Started the day with nine 12-year-old girls in the house for Madeline's birthday sleepover, and by 11 a.m. we were mostly cleared out, no worse for the wear, house NOT trashed (!). Managed to get both kids involved in mowing and yard stuff and getting the garden ready on a most beautiful May day. I had a few moments of listening to my own music and also reading the hilarious book I am on right now, <i><u>The Dud Avocado</u><i></i></i> (have you read it?). I did have some Bridget Jones moments including several outbursts by me similar to the most recent one "I am going to sing Aretha Franklin if I want to today because it's Mother's Day and I don't CARE if you think I am annoying!" You get the point. Pretty solid. I hope you got to do something fun or for yourself.<br />
<br />
Okay, now on to the real post -- the response to yours, that is. I get what you mean about the long-con, and all the opportunity that you have in your California existence to educate your boys on the glimmery, shimmery, luck-drives it, path-less-traveled, risk-taking, charm-your-way-through side of life. And I support you using California time for that. For sure. You ask if any of your comments about it resonate with me. In short, absolutely. Maybe too much. I was raised by a dad who frequently captured his philosophy on life with one phrase: "I'd rather be lucky than good." (The context usually gave the comment the additional meaning of "and I am -- lucky.")<br />
<br />
And, as you know, I trust (or I think we would not still be friends after all these years) I have a pretty insatiable appetite for all that the world has to offer. And we all know that the interesting stories from life, and life's biggest stars, seem to play by a different set of rules than what the conventional wisdom would tell us is safe and right. And I've definitely rolled the dice on taking the riskier path. I did it when I was 18 and ran off to California for my first year of college, I did it when I went hitchhiking across the country with my first post-high school boyfriend, and I did it when I followed through with starting a family with that boyfriend at an age when most of my contemporaries were simply moving in their first college apartment. Then, I did it again after getting divorced when I went to law school and started taking my kids on international adventures while working on research projects. I think a certain sense of trying to defy the odds (what the hell?) drove that.<br />
<br />
But, I must say, the last six or seven years have been a true lesson in the other side of life. I've been here, in Wisconsin, and I've been somewhat run out of special tricks like the ones I was able to come up with as a younger person and as a student. I've got to pay the bills and raise the kids. I haven't found a way to ease up on those responsibilities or the work required to get it done. I still dream that a break will come, but truth is once you get busy with the work and family schedule it's hard to find time or energy for the dreamier things that might bring something my way. So, with full knowledge that it may be a phase and it may be an overly hardened perspective and I may even be in denial about how I could really be living better, but -- I would say my orientation these days is a bit more toward the hard work and gaining some basic skills that people are willing to pay you for, no matter if you can charm your way through or not. I have found that being able and willing to work hard and having some marketable skill is what will save you from utter failure when the tricks up your sleeve run out or are on "pause".<br />
<br />
What's more, I do think the working Wisconsin values have set in -- gracefully, not harshly -- in my world view since I have settled into just being a Wisconsin mom here. I look around and truly admire the hell out of the people who I observe that have done their honest day's work and paid their dues, so to speak. And I see a lot of beauty and satisfaction in that, not just fulfillment of a cultural obligation.<br />
<br />
Now as for Peter and Madeline, first -- they are great. And as you know, Peter could charm a damn snake out of a tree and still has his gorgeous face but now on a 6-foot-tall lean tall frame. Madeline is so exceedingly competent and on top of everything and now sassy-cute and stylish in her tween-ness that I think people just sort of get out of her way and accept her. So yeah, they've got some things working in their favor to follow in a certain family tradition of pushing the limits and taking some risks that could pay off. But I find myself emphasizing the work and sensibility, <i>while </i> emphasizing that <i style="font-style: italic;">of course they can do whatever they want to in life, and anything is possible! </i><br />
<br />
<i style="font-style: italic;"></i>I guess it's that persistence thing you're talking about. I also translate that principle to willingness-to-do-what-it-takes. My thing is if you've got something that's your con-job, the thing that makes you most glowingly happy and is your dream to shoot for -- then yeah, let's go. But, you've got to be willing to take the steps it takes to get there, and you can't abandon the basic underlying facts (hard ground) that lie beneath every such shot at a dream (tight rope walk). Better have some humble skills and the ability to do the grind if and when the time comes.<br />
<br />
My current example is Peter. He's golfing, and golfing pretty well, and as you know, the kid was always going to play a sport and this is the one that he's narrowed down to and is probably going to excel in the most. So, this pro in town tells him he may have what it takes to play in college, etc, but he actually has to get the grades and have good character and not make any boneheaded mistakes in high school, or he'll significantly sabotage his chances of getting a scholarship or playing in college. This is an "aha" moment for me because it perfectly captures (coincidentally) the thought process I have about it. Will I support the dream, and just today, did Peter and I watch a tall lanky guy built much like himself win the Players Tournament, and did I see the guy high-fiving his mom after he won and feel a few happy tears running down my face? Hell yeah. And when this golf pro tells me we need to get Peter new clubs that I can't afford do I do it anyway? Yes. But when Peter plays the "Mom, won't you support my dream?" card when he's lobbying for a membership to a course or some such access to MORE golf that I am supposed to pay for, I'm like: 1. Do your part dude, and show me the grades; and 2. You're still gonna need to get a job and pitch in because I'll be damned if you're not gonna know how to scrape a grill or carry some elder golfer's clubs around because in that great pursuit of a dream you gotta know how to work FOR it, and you gotta know how to work well in CASE you need back up.<br />
<br />
And unfortunately with that little snake-charmer Peter with those big brown eyes and savvy smile and good humor I have to hit these points over and over again because he will con me, and he will con the world -- to a point. He takes after his mom, and I seem to have run my con for the short term (carried myself from age 18 to age about 28 on the whimsy), but then the pause button hit and ever since, I have really needed those skills and work and to be honest I kind of had to learn it all over again, you know? But I am better for it.
<br />
<br />
And there is for sure some hard work and hard face lines and grubby hands running through our Wisconsin tradition here. But there's a lot of love and pleasure, and of course, in the midst of all that tradition, there's certainly the shot at a dream. Always. I just think my view, and the Wisconsin view, may be that it's a pretty long haul, and there's definitely some hard work in there somewhere. Hardly anybody gets around it if they are to really live well. I think the fact that your boys had once lived here makes it easier for "LA Education" to be a thing, and not a life front-to-back, and that's all the more reason to go after it while you can. Not that you're coming back, but you can always send them back to me for a summer if we need to straighten one of them out.<br />
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Other cool thing about Wisconsin -- that hard work, basic skill thing? It's become stylish, you know? All the local food and cheese and beer and artisanship and all the handcrafted everything. So en vogue, and so HERE (holy Farmer's market and local organic regional cuisine restaurants -- we are saturated!) -- and so NOT possible through a con. There is something so damn admirable and virtuous about that.<br />
<br />
I may have been raised in Wisconsin, and one would think I would have started out with those persistent, skilled, hard-working values, but I think I came of age in a somewhat quirky family and knowing I could work a good con, and so avidly seeking that kind of spice in my life. At the moment, though, I am thinking a lot about good honest work and warning my kids a whole lot about the need to be thorough, work well, do their best, and play the main game well. But you have astutely reminded me that I should be telling them that while they should master that main game well (chess), they should do because it might well serve their <i>dream</i> (poker, L.A.-style, the long-con). And, it can offer a solid life true to the virtue of their Wisconsin tradition, in the event they are not a poker player, or in the event they ever need to recover from a bad hand.<br />
<br />
Remind me to dream again, and encourage my kids to do so, just in case this grind has me a little bogged down. I'll make sure if you go too far with the long-con we pull you back here for some meat, cheese, beer, and diggin in the garden.<br />
<br />
Should I be worried that Charlie has already quit a hippie preschool? Did he flip off the macrobiotic lunch lady?
xooxoxoxoxoxo</div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-81140195337741934262012-03-02T08:48:00.004-08:002012-03-02T11:09:01.662-08:00LA Education (the long con)I like poker players. Hustlers. Artists. Actors. Entrepreneurs. Professional athletes. Authors. Musicians. Anyone who does freelance anything (so I am all about your hangin' a shingle approach). Comedians. Absolutely. Love those guys. Con artists all. Drug dealers and criminals you ask? <span style="font-style: italic;">You would need to see the look on my face to know how difficult and interesting I find that question.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">for another post...</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />I don't take any sort of pride or interest in the subject of work. I never have. All my heroes and mentors have found some way to avoid it, and so it goes. I often sit mute in groups when conversation turns to work life, because I have nothing to add, and feel bored out of my skull. (<span style="font-style: italic;">The subject makes me want to drink and stand over a breezy grate in sexy underpants.</span>) One of the things I was fleeing when I left the midwest -- a sense that good old fashioned hard work was so highly prized that my kids might get the wrong idea. I wanted to show my children some California fools gold. <br /><br />Of course, I don't support myself and would have a seriously hard time of it if I tried. I like money, don't get me wrong, so my position is often contradictory and dishonest. Frank and I try to limit our debt so that anything seems possible, but Frank working a corporate soul sucking job for the past fifteen years is really what has afforded me the luxury of my views.<br /><br />I have never had the drive, ambition or talent for any of the lofty long-con careers I so esteem. Not really. In my 20s the artist life appealed to me certainly, but lack of fortitude and vision caused me to stumble and doubt. I also got pregnant at 24, not that I don't love the stories of single moms who struggle through and make a go of it. <span style="font-style: italic;">fuck yeah J. K Rowling. work it M.B. Collins.</span> Love those -- but that's not my story. Today I'm sure that many screenplays and novels rest unharvested in my soul, and yet the ability to sit down and write everyday in earnest just isn't appealing enough. I'm not hungry for it. I'd rather help my kid Henry with an education about the long con. <br /><br />So the thing with Henry is not about work. It's about Henry learning how charm, beauty, hustle and talent can be used to make money. And it's fun. LA professional acting is not a game that can be won with pure strategy. (<span style="font-style: italic;">It's not chess, a game I find as tedious as work.</span>) This is poker. You need some skills but the whole LA thing relies heavily on bluffing and luck. But the payoff is big and most importantly, you get used to losing a lot and trying again. I feel so happy to teach this to my kid. Not the acting dream. I don't care about that. I am so glad to share the con game with him. LA is an opportunity to learn about systems that reward without reason. <br /><br />I believe life rewards without reason and you have to be charming and flexible to play. Most people get really confused and angry and trudge through life like big boobs, believing that reason will save them and then getting pissed when it doesn't.<br /><br />I'm trying to teach my kids not to be boobs. And I'm not just talking about semantics. When Henry gets a commercial job I say, "you won the lottery". We celebrate luck. Every time we drive to an audition I believe we are playing the lottery. I don't take any sort of pride in that. I don't want Henry to confuse ego and luck. We are playing a game. We are risk takers. We have perseverance, but everyone needs that to win at anything. Perseverance is a given. I find great satisfaction in this idea -- I have turned the LA adventure into a perfect educational tool.<br /><br />Of course I also think Henry has talent and has worked hard over the years, but so has everyone in LA. Talent becomes another given.<br /><br />I think we have it all wrong, the way we educate our kids. Our national message to teenagers is to stay in school, obey the rules, get good grades and go to college. The best they can hope for is to ace their exams and get scholarships. <span style="font-style: italic;">And then gasp</span>. They get into a good college. <span style="font-style: italic;">Hooray.</span> And then they protest vigorously because their degrees are meaningless and they are in debt. <span style="font-style: italic;">But I digress</span>. The main point is that the traditional approach is boring and doesn't reward risk taking or creativity. Also the game is too easy. Also the game rewards only a very small slice of potential talents. Also the game says nothing about realistic potential and the end game. I could go on and on here........ Does any of this ring true to you MB? I wonder how you view the system for Peter and Maddie. How do you talk to them about school stuff? What are your expectations for them in regards to grades and future goals? <br /><br />I know Peter and Maddie possess more charm in their little pinkies than most children...that was always very apparent. Miss those two. <span style="font-style: italic;">sigh.</span><br /><br />Anyway, I have found a way to avoid an educational system I don't respect with Henry. I will try to scheme similar paths with my other two kids as they grow older. Of course, I will need different strategies because they are motivated by different factors. I try to pay attention. What makes Jimmy's eyes gleam and sparkle? Where does Charlie want to take risks? What do they do every day for pleasure that could be turned to profit? On what do they obsess? <br /><br />So yes, currently both Jimmy and Henry are in school. Henry is going to a public high school with 5,000 kids and he is doing the bare minimum. He has two gym classes! Jimmy is going to a private big brain school because I think public middle school is pretty toxic and I wanted him to make friends with nerdy children. Jimmy still seems to want close friendships outside of the family and he has had more success making friends than any of the rest of us. There is part of me that really wants to unschool, but the reality is both Henry and Jimmy wanted to get out and meet people and look around a bit. Makes sense to me.<br /><br />Charlie just quit a hippie preschool. <span style="font-style: italic;">another post on this for sure..........</span><br /><br />I know we could figure out some sort of awesome adventure in April if you are still in. Call me sometime for talk of details. <br /><br />Best. Best. Best.<br />AbbyUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-57149711777967225672012-02-26T10:59:00.001-08:002012-06-07T21:18:59.926-07:00Work Life (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I loved loved loved hearing about your current work life, dear. Because that is what you are doing when you are getting butt cramps driving back and forth to L.A. and cleaning up vomit and being stage mom -- well, just being a mom, for that matter, because the thing is no mom doing their job can rightfully turn away from the labor of nurturing a kid's God-given talent and willingness to put it to good use. And, I just want to say for the record that you are very, very good at your job.<br />
<br />
When I saw the VW commercial starring Henry, my first comments to family and friends were "Holy Shit! They've only been out there, like, 8 months!" and "Abby obviously knows what she's doing." Now, that's not to take away from Henry's obvious God-given talent. I've been a groupie for years, and I'm a believer. But you only need to go to L.A. once to discover that there is an entire world of wishful could-be stars who just DON'T get their break for whatever reason. And I gotta believe that as learning curves and access issues go, a mom and son driving into Southern California from Wisconsin are extremely disadvantaged as compared to the Real Orange County housewife types who have lived around this stuff their entire life and who know some people and who have way more cash means to just get access and have had their kids involved in the right stuff since Day 1. <br />
<br />
So, I am incredibly impressed that Henry already has had the awesome Jetta commercial -- which they are playing all the freakin' time -- and he looks so good and grown up and cute and he does just so perfectly well in that damn thing. And, I've received your simple email letting me know that Henry GOT the Verizon commercial which was one of the two call-backs you were painstakingly driving to L.A. for . . . . my distanced assessment is that you are achieving great success in your current endeavor. And I know, just know that you used your shrewd ability to figure out how to get something done right to accomplish this success. Congrats!<br />
<br />
I just met yesterday for casual drinks with a client/friend who is also a young Executive Director (although the organization she runs is much, much bigger and has more infrastructure than the one that I direct). We decided, based on the recommendation from a super-ambitious law school friend of mine who now lives in Portland, to start a small group of gals who are finding their way in professional leadership roles, who can get together once in a while to hash out questions, issues, etc. For example, one question I always run into -- in a small organization with a staff of four, including me, how the hell is one supposed to do performance reviews? And is it even necessary? I mean, we're all on top of each other all the time, and in constant contact. So, my default position on this is: if there's a problem, we're going to talk about it, and the need to step back and do a cold calculating analysis of "performance" seems like a tactic to unnecessarily emphasize hierarchy or something. I recognize the need for people to be able to step back and think about how they do their jobs, and what they can focus on for the next year or whatever. So, just an example of reasons why it would be good to have a sounding board of other ladies who are not related to my job, who I can specifically get together with to safely hash out dynamics and tactics and ways to get from point A to point B in one's work life. <br />
<br />
Reflecting on all the challenges I can infer that you must be facing in yoru current work life, I imagine you could use something like this too. I imagine that all the classic issues that face any professional are there for you: power dynamics (which agent has which connections, who has an advantage based on personal relationships), management issues (what if Henry really needs to do something to be successful but he's just not into it?), time management and need for support and infrastructure issues (I know you could use a secretary or driver right about now, but you're not there yet with the income, right?), etc. Anyway, work life is tough, and it seems we could all live and work 100 years and still be learning and mastering all the while.<br />
<br />
I realized that a lot of my prior entries have been about really personal emotional family type stuff. But my outside-the-home work is a big part of my life these days too, of course. And things are going pretty well. But it took a long time for things to feel "normal" in my new work life. It's been about two and a half years since I switched from being an overpaid and undercommitted associate in a large law firm to becoming a "part time" Executive Director of a tiny non-profit agency, and, simultaneously, opening my own small independent law practice. At first when I made this switch, there was not a financial impact because I had a little cushion, but there was a pretty big sense that I was creating EVERYTHING from scratch in the non-profit and in the law firm. So, every communications piece I wrote for the non-profit, every Board of Directors meeting, every court hearing, every client bill, was like a new project -- no template, having to question every impulse or instinct I had and having to figure out if I really understood the power dynamics, process, authorities at hand, etc. It was more tiring than I realized, I think. And juggling both things was a bit of a challenge -- I needed the money from my client work but my Executive Director job never really "turned off." If there was an issue in the non-profit, I had to handle it, you know? And the fundraising -- oh, the fundraising. It's a small organization but let's just say I've done enough special events planning, and grant reporting, and grant writing, than I needed in my entire lifetime. <br />
<br />
Over the last two years, things have gotten much, much more efficient. I've just done everything at the non-profit at least once before, you know? So it's not so cumbersome. The law practice just ticks along -- it's true what they say. Once you hang a shingle and get yourself out there a bit, the work comes. It's very liberating having these two positions in which I am the boss, I can figure out how I want to get things done, and I have a lot of flexibility to figure out how to raise my kids in the background of all this. I am absolutely thrilled that I never feel like I have to sneak out the back door of the law firm to go see my kid get an award at school again. I've also grown that little organization to a point where soon, I will not bear the burden of all of the work that bogs me down. I'm hiring contractors to help and will be hiring more employees before long. The drudgery that really ate up a lot of time -- filling out forms, making copies, composing letters to donors -- is becoming more and more delegable. We have templates, and we have raised enough money to hire some of that stuff out. Thank goodness! In the meantime, my only complaint about my work life of late has really just been that the money is tight. Working the way you want to comes at a price, of course -- there's a reason why people put up with the misery of working at a big law firm, and it's a six-figure reason. But I'm even rounding the bend on that issue, I think. It's just been an adjustment.<br />
<br />
This weekend I am feeling particularly good about work -- perhaps before long I'll be writing in a more cynical state -- but, Friday we had an awesome fancy cocktail affair for the non-profit. It was WAY more grown up than any event we've ever had, and I ended up finding an 85% off Calvin Klein slinky but appropriate fire engine red dress to wear to it, a ton of interesting people with means showed up and partied down, and we were surrounded by ice sculputres and 20-foot tall flower arrangements. Hey -- that's some pretty fun stuff. Add to that amazing specialty cocktails, my time on the mic talking about the organization going fairly well, and some serious action on the dance floor to MJ and Salt and Pepa classics, and ample comments about how good that 85% off dress looked, and it was a pretty overall kick-ass night. Above all, it is so, so good to see our little-engine-that-could non-profit, which I inherited as a little-known organization that had just broken the six-figure budget benchmark, in this new state of legitimacy. We are basically rocking it.<br />
<br />
On a funnier note, I have a good story that actually throws back to my law firm days but I've never really told anybody about it and I thought you would appreciate it. So, wearing my lawyer hat recently, I was helping a client deal with some intellectual property issues. I was able to usher them through some initial analysis of the issues and clarify objectives, but it was clear we needed to consult an intellectual property attorney from a larger firm to check our strategy and provide expertise on the specifics. So my client goes to this attorney we work with on these issues at the firm I actually used to work at. That's not a coincidence -- the whole way this client is my client is that I worked with them when I was at the firm, and for general counsel matters they came with me when I went to my own practice. But there are still specialized issues that they'll go back to the firm for -- retirement benefits, intellectual property, etc. <br />
<br />
So we schedule this meeting with this partner from the firm, and it was pretty fun to go in there and consult with him as equals and run our strategy by him and basically get feedback that we were right on; kind of validating, you know, because when we were both under the same roof at the firm I was just this peon and now here we are working out a strategy as lawyers together.<br />
<br />
But the point is the whole thing brought back this funny memory from when I was at the firm. It's hard to explain but there was this pressure to attend social stuff related to the firm, even when it didn't make sense in my schedule, wasn't the way I wanted to spend my social time, etc. It's a pretty universal theme of the lawyer world, at least in Madison. You sort of feel like you have to participate in the whole bit, inclduing these social obligations, to do well. And for me -- single mom with kids at home and generally super cynical about these sort of business politics games -- it's funny to think I even played along as much as I did.<br />
<br />
But one happy hour after work in the summertime back then I went, and there was a mix of partners and associates, and this lawyer that I had to meet with recently was there. We all got just a bit loosened up and when it came time to head home from the drinking establishment, I walked out ahead of him and another partner and just as I was about to turn the the corner at the end of the block, I stepped on a street vent (the purpose of which to this day I am still unsure of). Before I know it my cotton H&M dress with cute 1960s stylings (tight boddess and full skirt -- very appropriate for work with a cardigan) flies up around my torso. Yes, the vent fully blew my skirt up, exposing all that was underneath to the law firm parnters behind me. <br />
<br />
So, in that moment -- what can you do? Absolutely nothing. I hopped off the vent, batted down the skirt and impulsively whipped my head back to see if the gentlemen behind me had seen. Oh yes, yes they had. We all struck a balance between a healthy laugh and trying not to play it up too much. There were drinks involved so I'm not certain at this point if anyone said anything or what but let's just say it was acknowledged. Then, I had to continue walking down the street with them behind me, and the incident behind me, and all I could think about was "what the hell underwear am I wearing? what the hell underwear am I wearing?" I guess I just wanted to know the reality of what they saw. I think I figured it out before having to physically check, and -- it was my most expensive flame-red fancy pair from Victoria's Secret, of a styling that did not leave much up for question in terms of what my actual rear end looked like under that skirt. I couldn't tell (and am still not sure) what would have been worse -- that I be wearing something like that, which might make it seem like I was TRYING to be sexy, or if I had been wearing some tattered old thing that would have been clearly NOT sexy but still embarassing for other reasons, you know? Anyway.<br />
<br />
The happy hour was on a Friday and on Monday I was in the office early and the first call I get on my phone is from that partner's office extension. I decide to just head off the awkwardness and picked up the phone saying "I hope you're not calling me to give me a hard time about the little incident on Friday, because I can tell you I am embarrassed enough about that."<br />
<br />
And, it turns out he is calling for a completely different, legitimate work related reason, but after having explained that says, "but you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about" in this very pointed, slow way, to which I had absolutely no response. One of those moments when you're like, do I acknowledge that this may be a really inappropriate comment? I think he meant well, and wasn't creepy, and was trying to be nice, but -- it seems slightly suggestive, yes?<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm glad those butt-flashing law firm days are over and my sleeves are rolled up on my own work, in my own way, and I can see slow but real progress with what I'm trying to do.<br />
<br />
I think you and Henry are seeing some serious progress with your work already and even if it's hard to see why you're driving carsick kids back and forth so much and why Henry has to dwell in commercial land for so long before a feature, from the outside it looks like you are seriously executing on a plan. Things just seem to take longer than one hopes.<br />
<br />
So glad Hen and Peter are in touch. I wonder what Jimmy is up to? Is Charlie still an artist? How is Frank doing with HIS new work life, speak of the devil?<br />
<br />
Anyway, I hope we get to catch up on these things soon in person. Still trying to figure out spring break. Our kids' weeks off of school don't match. Mine are off the week before yours. So. And, by the way, does this mean your kids are in school? Fill me in!<br />
<br />
love love love<br />
<br />
MBC</div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-6528483344327820932012-02-17T18:09:00.000-08:002012-06-07T21:19:50.228-07:00Different Worlds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I had to laugh out loud when I read that you had a good Valentines Day. My Valentines Day was whacked out.<br />
<br />
First of all, the stage mom thing is currently all consuming. We found out on Valentines Day that after two callbacks Henry does not look good eating chicken. <span style="font-style: italic;">Bojangles</span> decided to go with another kid actor for their national campaign to eat more fried chicken. I actually never thought Henry should be submitted for chicken eating because he has braces and who wants to see that shit (?), but all said we had to drive to LA three times just to get turned down on Valentines Day.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
__________________________</div>
<br />
At some point on Valentines Day Charlie hears me say it is Valentines Day and he asks if it really is Valentines Day in a disbelieving little voice. "What are we going to do for it?"' he muses.<br />
<br />
"Nothing," I reply, "we're driving to LA."<br />
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"I hate driving to LA," he screams. I shove him in the car with the mobile dvd player. Problem solved.<br />
<br />
After three hours of hard, aggressive driving (me whirling dervish style between lanes trying to make the call time) we get there with minutes to spare. I drop Henry at the door and try to find parking, carefully avoiding the block where several dozen junkies congregate. Charlie gets in the front seat and looks green. And then yes, he does. He throws up all over the front seat and dashboard. Happy Valentines Day. Carsick kid. Three hour drive home in a vomit car.<br />
<br />
When I get home Frank is already asleep. I carry Charlie in from the car sleeping and sticky.<br />
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I shove five chocolates in my mouth and forget to brush my teeth.<br />
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______________________</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
We drove up to LA several more times this week and after the fifth day my ass had such a cramp I had to get off the 405 during rush hour and cry. This morning I thought it was all for nothing but then (hooray) at about 4 this afternoon Henry got two callbacks for commercials -- one for Verizon (because he can act like he can text) and one for Cedar Point Amusement Park (because he looks good screaming?). <span style="font-style: italic;">sigh</span>. Next week looks like another butt cramp. If you are wondering wtf with all the commercials, the kids gotta cook a half dozen before theatrical casting will even look at him, or so we're told. That's a lot of fried chicken.<br />
<br />
I don't bake or hardly cook anymore. I eat smoothies on the go. I forget holidays and drive like a maniac.<br />
<br />
For what?<br />
<br />
A dream.<br />
<br />
I want my kid to see that if he wants something dreamy he has to work like hell.<br />
<br />
And it can get messy and complicated and you only quit if you don't care anymore<span style="font-style: italic;"></span>.<br />
<br />
Henry still cares so we are full on in it right now. In the shit. It actually feels pretty damn good. I hope we're not crazy. I really do. My butt says yes but my heart says no. Intuition? Or more likely I just have a soft spot for people with big dreams.<br />
<br />
I wonder why I have never been able to work this hard for myself? I have never had such clear headed ambition for anything in my life that concerns my own creative spirit. This blog project for example. <span style="font-style: italic;">mea culpa</span>.<br />
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I would love it if you could visit. love love love.<br />
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Henry also really misses Peter. They text a lot. We did something good for those two I think. They have a familial bond that we helped set up. <span style="font-style: italic;">nice</span>.<br />
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I haven't met anyone in San Diego who can do a Valentine Cookie Drop like you my dear. I miss your bakery love. You do your Grandma proud.<br />
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Best. Ab</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-32638216837634376762012-02-15T21:31:00.000-08:002012-06-07T21:19:22.484-07:00A Good Valentine's Day -- and a Great VW Commercial (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After writing my last posts I felt pretty guilty for blasting such melancholy all over the place. I was clearly misplacing my energy. I have improved my outlook significantly, and my Valentine's Day is a good snapshot of all that is good and how easy it is to see that with things in the proper perspective.<br />
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The truth is, I was in Kinko's for almost two hours yesterday evening, yes, Valentine's Day. This sounds like a disaster, but in actuality, it was part of a good Valentine's Day.<br />
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The evening before the big V-Day I baked some beautiful cut-out cookies for the kids and some friends. I don't know if you remember this but I do believe a bag of Valentine cut-out cookies was one of my first excuses for randomly coming to your door after having met you a few times when I was new to the Jenifer Street neighborhood and putting myself out there. <br />
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I decorated paper bags for the kids, taped some old valentines from the basement on, and filled them with chocolate and I-Tunes cards, put them sitting out for when they woke up.<br />
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In the morning I had a quick run with my running buddy and got the kids to school. Madeline was up without prompting and gussying up for the Valentine's Dance. Amazing how motivated a middle school girl can be to get out of bed when there's something to get ready for. <br />
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I took our small staff at the non-profit where I'm the director for a Valentine's coffee and got to find out what the other ladies' perspectives were on Valentine's day. The consensus -- good excuse to go for a decent meal. I ate a delicious huge Valentines mint brownie given to me by a co-worker for lunch at my desk. I got almost everything I wanted to get done at work done.<br />
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I got a positive update from some family members about my grandma, who was recently admitted to the hospital. Without getting into details, I'll say that she's doing much better, but in the midst of my baking on Monday night and my day on Tuesday, I said a lot of prayers that she would be okay, and I thought a lot about my sense of responsibility to follow through on what that woman (and others) gave to put me and these kids where we are. She was a teenage mom, had 7 kids with the love of her life (I think he was, anyway) and that dude disappeared from the family for a relationship with alcohol addiction by the time she was 30. She figured out a way to get a decent job despite limited education and worked her way through raising all those kids. She still figured out how to be a grandma, too -- inviting each of her 17 grandkids over for sleepovers, providing Christmas gifts for everybody, etc. Anyway, humbling to reflect on all she's done and how spoiled I and my kids are in perspective.<br />
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When I came home after work there was a nice card and gift card waiting for me -- again, without getting into detail let's say that it's not a very romantic Valentine's Day, and that's how it should be, but I still got a really nice gift from the guy, which I really appreciated.<br />
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I treated myself to a cooks' night off and let the kids get take-out for dinner before taxiing Madeline to her volleyball practice. She and I had a nice conversation on the way there AND back -- a real treat. I allowed Peter to stay home on his own during the practice which means he was psyched -- alone time. And I got over to Kinko's for some work stuff that just needed to get done. <br />
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When Mads and I got home, we got to watch "the Voice" with Peter -- all three of us, into it, together. <br />
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It was a great day, and I hope yours was too. <br />
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Today was a good day too, and I just settled myself in on the couch in the quiet house now that the kids are down. I flipped on the TV to watch the Daily Show and Colbert, and lo and behold -- I saw it! I had heard about your Henry in the VW commercial and I just randomly saw it now for the first time. It is a great commercial, Henry is so great and grown up and handsome, and -- wow! Will this be the reel they play when he is at the top of his fame and on the late night talk shows promoting a movie he stars in, and they ask about how he got started? I guess that new agent -- not to mention your commitment, and the kid's sheer talent -- are paying off!<br />
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So. . . . here's a question: what would you think about a visit from Peter, Mads, and myself over our spring break? I'll call you about that one. But you do need to respond to this blog post, honey.</div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-39992846542658612432012-01-17T08:05:00.000-08:002012-06-07T21:19:37.045-07:00TWO more thoughts (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Hey, I failed to mention:<br />
<br />
Yes, intuition is everything! In fact, I think how we even understand information starts with intuition. We should all be honing the hell out of intuition so we can be better, smarter, etc. Big thoughts and high intelligence are nothing (even hurtful) if you don't know how to put it somewhere toward your/your tribe's survival/well-being. Even now, even in these whack modern times.<br />
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Also, tell me more about your budding artist Charlie, and what the other three "boys" are doing. I really miss all of you. Peter keeps talking about coming out there -- he misses Henry more than he realized he would, I do believe.<br />
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love<br />
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<br /></div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-54776007492722087952012-01-17T07:53:00.000-08:002012-01-17T11:01:56.218-08:0010 Top Profound Thoughts for You Today, January 17th 2012<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Abby:<br />
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I am dying to write and this is what I can manage today. <br />
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<u><span style="color: #660000;">Top 10 Profound Thoughts for You Today</span></u><br />
<u><br />
</u><br />
1. You asked about community, in the context of Ancient Greece. I've been meaning to write a chez d'oeuvre on my views pertinent to this matter. These views were crystallized not only while I was walking around our formerly shared neighborhood on Halloween (talk about an occasion that will get you fired back up for the community spirit) and as I've conducted my business this fall/early winter, simultaneously sharing meaningful moments with family and friends and feeling it's a good thing to be held accountable to others while also knowing how important it is to have the choice to turn away from the mob once in a while. Here's where I'm at on that one, and this is to be continued: <span style="color: #660000;">Modern Community is defined by <i>choice</i> -- we can move to new communities, interact with our family in the way that we choose to, and define our individual selves within or by community. This modern freedom makes the way we take on "Community" an even greater responsibility or opportunity. </span><br />
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2. You mentioned the way you're enjoying your own little mini-community of just the family while you are out there finding your way. Can I just say for the record that: <span style="color: #660000;">Right now, there is no greater pleasure or sense of well-being for me than sitting in my house or being on some mundane errand with just me and one or both of my two kids -- ? </span>This is kind of scary, because I fully realize that this kind of time with them, as it is for us right now, is limited. And I just don't feel as "right" in any other context. Even when I have free time I feel better running their laundry or planning their dinner or arranging for our next weekend adventure than doing almost anything else. I suppose this is what happens to moms. What's become of me?<br />
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3. I heard yesterday that the third Monday in January is statistically the most depressing day of the year. Yesterday that day was the celebration of Martin Luther King's birthday, also my beau John's birthday, and I had the distinct pleasure of having my 3-year-old niece with me all day. It was warm and temperate and we went sledding. Birthday dinner plans were cancelled due to John's daughter being sick. We all had the day off of work and school. All was well. <span style="color: #660000;">Maybe it's just symbolized by the droopy Christmas Tree still sitting in my living room, or maybe it's just the Wisconsin sports killing us softly (Packers had an almost perfect season and just lost rather shockingly in the playoffs -- I know it's not your thing necessarily but it does affect morale for my greater community, and myself, and kind of pushes that "why is my life/sports team not perfect and beautiful and always toiling to no glorious end" button) but there is something a bit drab and gloomy about this time of year.</span><br />
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4. That being said, I did set a pretty kick-ass New Year's Resolution this year and it seems to be working out. So inspiration has not totally left the scene. It's all about time management. Idea being that I have actually created <span style="color: #660000;">blocks of time for my job, for my business, for my domestic stuff, for working out, etc. -- and plan to stick to those blocks to avoid what happened last year which was one big soup of simultaneous efforts and agendas going on. </span>I truly think this is already making a difference in my life. My friend Crystal says if you want to do something or want something to happen, you have to create space for it. So, in the interest of attending to all of my little mini-agendas, I'm creating special spots for each of them so they have "space" to develop. I'll keep you posted. But the fact that I am writing on this blog right now is one example of how this might work.<br />
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5. I think it might be okay in my time management plan, however, to<span style="color: #660000;"> replace work outs with shoveling</span>. I don't really know if it's an equivalent amount or quality of exercise, but it's something, and it's pretty much impossible to stick to a plan around here when you wake up and have an hour of shoveling to somehow fit into your schedule. I suppose you really relate to this right now out there in sunny California. Remember that whole game of feeling so accomplished and sticking your mittens on the heat vent to dry after shoveling, getting cleaned up and ready to go out to do something, getting your kids ready to go, then opening your front door with just enough time to get to your next engagement only to find that the plows had come and deposited eight inches of hard, dense, crusty mud-snow at the foot of your driveway. Yeah, you miss it here. I knew it.<br />
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6. I absolutely must become accomplished in writing now because it's my only hope to salvage respectability as someone with a hint of coolness and a chance at "making it" in any way more note-able than just being a decent professional and a great mom and a generally good person. I would be perfectly happy with that good person option, mind you, it's just that I am now 34.5 years old, too broke to have any style or plans for exotic adventures, and too happily sucked in to just being a mom and a normal middle American person (see number 2 above) to really even see a path toward any unique accomplishment or hip contribution or wild and crazy narrative. Except, of course, <span style="color: #660000;">sitting my ass in front of this laptop and starting to say something worthwhile that might actually get me somewhere unexpected. I think I may have the ability and some decent things to say. Let me know if you have any thoughts on this.</span><br />
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7. Relevant to numbers 1 through 4 above, <span style="color: #660000;">I miss you.</span> I'm not hangin with too many women these days, and you may recall that the moms that I hang with are mostly 10 years older than me. I need somebody who really knows me and cares about me and gets that my narrative is a little off the beaten path to help me figure some things out these days. For example, how the hell should I look at my life trajectory right now? Should I try to get some form of "settled down" established so that my kids can go off to college with a feeling that they have that stable base that middle-class kids are supposed to feel? Or should I say -- when I turn 40, my two kids will already be in college so I am going to go do some crazy shit that I didn't get to do when I was 25? Or -- ? Now I have a friend or two who are completely in favor of the latter (live for YOU and your one special life and adventure) and then have other very important people in my life who wouldn't even <i>understand </i>any option other than the married-with-a-house-and-a-401(K)-and-matching-dishes version of life -- which, I might add, I am still self-consciously far from. Again, I welcome your thoughts.<br />
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8. I picked up that book <u style="color: #660000;">Flow</u> again. I love the idea of engaged activity and I'm getting better at putting that whole theory to practice. Here's the part I'm hung up on. Best possible satisfaction and experience comes from the correct cross-section of adequately high expectations, and adequately high skills in reaching those expectations. So if you rock low expectations, not so satisfying. If you fail to meet inappropriately high expectations, also not good. This pertains to #7 above, but <span style="color: #660000;">how do we set high enough expectations to create adequate challenge but still have a good shot at reaching them? </span><br />
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9. <span style="color: #660000;">What the hell is the deal with long-term relationships? I have no idea what I am doing here. Help!</span><br />
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10. All of this expounding aside, I just want to say for the record that all I really want is for my family to be happy, healthy, and successful (in grounded terms), to get to spend time with interesting people who I love, to have enough money in the bank to not worry about it, and to be pretty sure I made things better in the world and not worse. I'd also like to create one thing to be proud of (in addition to my kids). And, I'd like to see the world a bit and learn more about this great mystery that we all experience, so I can create even better stuff based on all that exposure. <span style="color: #660000;">Considering these foundations and my desire to properly address #s 1, 2, 6, 7, 8, and 9 above, I've determined that I'd really, really like to get me and the kids out there in the next year or so, and possibly even convince you and the boys to take a drive over the border with us. Little MX adventure? </span><br />
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That's all for now, Ab. Life is good and never ceases to challenge. Glad I've got you, even if remotely for now.<br />
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</span></div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-52807502792309317952011-10-26T16:23:00.000-07:002011-10-28T23:10:52.368-07:00Ancient GreeceI recently listened to an online course by Yale University Professor Donald Kagan on Ancient Greek History. A major theme of the course was how Greek culture could not understand the individual outside of society. Banishment from a Greek community was considered the highest form of punishment. I could feel where the Greeks were coming from, if not from my own personal experience leaving Madison, then certainly from the horrified faces of many a Madisonian when I mentioned my upcoming move. Banished from paradise? Madison is nothing if not a model of the Greek <span style="font-style: italic;">polis</span>, no? I kept hearing the refrain, "you'll be back" which so many shared with me. Will I? At this point I can't say, but the strong reaction I got from so many people begs the question, "what's up?"<br /><br />Kagan's contention is that our shared Greek intellectual heritage conflicts with modern ideas of romantic individualism (think Thoreau or Huck Finn), the notion that deep truths can be found in the personal journey. Kagan goes on to say that our modern dilemma is reconciling these two conflicting positions: do we find comfort and safety in the group or by setting out on our own romantic quest? So much of what we do, especially as we decide how to raise our own children, depends on which model makes more sense. Kagan posits that this is a great litmus test when trying to understand someone and that it is very <span style="font-weight: bold;">un</span>likely that you fall directly in the middle on these utopian visions. So MB, what do you think? Ancient Greek or Romantic Individualism?<br /><br />This question brought up almost as many strong reactions in me as the Myers Briggs, but that's another story. What do I think about those Ancient Greeks and why the hell did I choose to banish myself from Madison? Why was my vow to get out of there before I had to deal with high school all over again?<br /><br />I would say that I am <span style="font-weight: bold;">2</span> parts Ancient Greek and <span style="font-weight: bold;">8</span> parts Romantic Individualist.<br /><br />Doing the tally, I had some serious gut reactions. I had to turn off the <span style="font-style: italic;">Iliad</span> audio tape the kids and I were listening to half way through due to boredom and horror at all the macho talk. I find Greek art and architecture super dull and overly obsessed with ideal ratios, bla, bla, bla (especially compared to Minoan art, have you seen their funky frescoes?). I love the Olympics, but when I actually learned about Ancient Greek competitive spirit it made me want to hurl.<br /><br />I have certainly inherited some of my beliefs. My own family is passionately individualized. Oh yeah, I wanted to tell you about the Ron Paul fervor going on in my family but that's for another chapter. The idea of living off the grid and cheating on your taxes seems like romantic individualism, no? My parents were unschooling me and my sibs before it even had a name (they just knew that driving to Mexico in a van every winter and romping on the pyramids was "way more important than any of that boring school crap"). And Carleton was a bastion of weirdness and romantic individualism. Truly, I was thinking about this the other day -- I'm not even sure if Carleton had a school mascot. I only remember one sports team name and that was a frisbee team called Black Lung. I think they called themselves that because they smoked up before throwing their own form of discus.<br /><br />I think most people in Madison would skew heavily on the side of Ancient Greek ideals. Needless to say, I often felt like a fish out of water. It took me a long time to admit that I was floundering. I seriously wanted to scream when I discovered Madisonians could go ape shit in their support of public schools and unions. Holy crap. I felt like the bad guy. But it happened way before that. I remember the election I voted for Nader. Damn. And the crazy reaction I felt when I took Henry off of one little kid soccer team (he was like 5) and switched him to another one where the coach favored quiet encouragement over raving. I felt like I had been banished. Henry and I didn't even give a shit about soccer, so why would anyone care on what team he practiced eye foot coordination? I digress. I am so glad that I didn't have to deal with Purgolderin.<br /><br />Encinitas is a romantic individualized paradise. There is no East/West side thing (actually I think it's just who can afford to live closest to the beach, but whatever). And when I was looking at high schools I got this really interesting story about how the sporty kids go to this one school where they spend money on sports and the academic kids tend to go here and this other school has more arts programs....<br /><br />I have yet to hear anyone recommend a school or neighborhood based on tribal enthusiasm.<br /><br />In a yoga class tonight my teacher talked about going beyond boundaries and binary thinking, and about intuition. Of course, I started this whole post with a binary comparison. <span style="font-style: italic;">sigh</span>. Writing is hard because I still haven't figured out how to write about any of the new things I'm thinking about without sounding wacked. Basically, I'm just happy to hear people talk about intuition like it's important. I feel like I have spent a lot of time around very hard thinkers and been found wanting.<br /><br />I hope that my kids appreciate what I believe in. I want them to be able to pick up and switch sides and vote independent and avoid team thinking. I want them to embrace getting lost. I hope this journey with them is good practice.<br /><br />I miss Madison friends terribly. I miss you. Thank you for starting the blog thing with me. It's fun to keep up like this.<br /><br />I love your stories about those two field trip kids. Wow. Keep it coming, friend.<br /><br />About your energy level. A long time ago I read that you should try to check in every once and a while and see how you feel after hanging out with an individual or group, even if they are old familiar friends or a friend group you have been with forever. Check in. See if you feel energized or depleted after being with them. Watch it for awhile. If you are depleted again and again, just take a break. You may be giving out way more than you receive in your social interactions.<br />Remember to hang out <span style="font-weight: bold;">more</span> with the people who help you feel great.<br /><br />To answer your question about California trash style: you can't put trash out in front of your house. Everyone pays for their own trash pick-up monthly. It costs $30 for a single large item removal and $15 for each additional item. They are serious about landfill. I had a rummage sale and hardly anyone came. I tried giving away my furniture to charity and it was difficult to find anyone interested. Don't bring extra furniture to California. Throw it off the wagon!<br /><br />The best thing in my life right now is Charlie is a budding artist. He only wants to draws pictures of me and rainbows.<br /><br />loveUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-64424873278635984052011-10-25T20:56:00.000-07:002012-06-07T21:20:09.605-07:00The Two-Way Street (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ah, yes. It begins. Now we banter. Thanks for playin. It's great to hear your voice, even if it's not us cackling around the kitchen table over dinner, so engrossed that we forget to feed half the kids dinner.<br />
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Condolences on the moving-again thing. That is rough. I am impressed that you have done away with more stuff. I wonder if you can just stack up your curb there like you can here, and let the treasure-hunters have their way? I haven't seen the pioneer period movie you mention but I guess I'll have to check that out. I especially appreiate the pioneer analogy in the context of the faux-dobe subdivision. That rocks.<br />
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I can totally picture and understand what you've got going on out there, though, Ab. OK, truly honest -- the fact that you would touch yoga sing-along with a ten-foot pole has me just a wee bit freaked out. But, truth is -- you've never been anything if you haven't been totally capable of the unexpected, the 180 degree turn, the passionate throwing of oneself at a new interest, the seeing the fun in something that others may categorically ignore, misunderstand, cast off. So, I'll trust that if you think that the yoga sing-along is cool, it's <em>obviously</em> because there is some serious fun in it. <br />
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I have to also admit that it's slightly difficult to imagine you and Frank pulling into Tennis Court Way every evening. What's NOT hard to imagine is that you are all relishing that carved-out family-time extended-vacation space you have right now. It's also not hard imagine that Jimmy cut his bangs. This IS the child that my family still holds in highest spitfire regard (something of legend) for flipping off the bus driver on the first day of kindgergarten.<br />
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Housing market out there sounds rough, from a renter's or buyer's perspective, frankly. Sounds like waiting it out a bit makes sense. The interest rates are surely enticing on the one hand but if you still think the prices are inflated wait it out. You'll know if you're ready for the 30-year ball and chain again or if you see some killer value that you just can't pass up -- you know? You'll figure it out. And maybe once those boys' braces come off you'll suddenly find yoursef attending an open house at Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore's place in Hollywood, which they will have had to sell in the divorce process, and you'll be thinking "I know we can afford it, but I wonder if I can wire the entire house to play voice-command podcasts in every room?"<br />
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Of course -- no surprise to you -- we are right in the thick of all the things you left behind here. East High School spirit, homcoming, sports teams, field trips, biology exams, trying to pick up mom-clues on the elusive lives of a 9th and 6th grader, carpools and all the other logistics, the insular nature of the near east side of this village we call Madison, etc. There is no escape from all the silly stress/pressure/worry/drama that comes with this sort of quintessential middle-American family life, but Madison is a good place to be trapped if one must be. The fall has been glorious with deep, wild colors and good crisp (but not cold) air. The kids -- not only mine but all the kids we know from this little tight-knit neighborhood -- are all figuring out so much and really growing into their own entire almost-adult layer of the community. It was pretty amazing sitting outside of East High after the homecoming dance and just watching this vastly broad spectrum of young people pouring out, looking fine, pretty grown up and in charge and confident. <br />
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In general right now I am looking around and realizing I have a decade's worth of relationships with some of these people in our neighborhood here, and -- like family -- even the folks that annoy me the most are also the ones that I've learned the most about and therefore, have a certain inescapable intimacy with, at least for as long as we are in each other's orbit.<br />
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Man, I have so many things I could tell you about, but now I'm getting tired and I can't possibly do them justice. The Brewers lost their chance at the World Series, tragically, and I cried pretty legitimately. It was super fun while it lasted. I went on a 50-mile relay run this past weekend in Door County with a bunch of moms (9 others to be exact) from the neighborhood (what was I saying about being in the thick of it?). It is beautiful up there on the lake and on the backroads where we were running and it's a good bunch of ladies (although I always feel a bit weird because I'm the only unmarried/divorced one, and I'm almost 10 years younger than the rest so I end up having to remind myself a lot when I'm with them all that they've had a lot more time to get certain things established and in order and. . . . what a recipe for a developing a complex) <br />
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Lately I've kind of been struggling with the realization of how much of my time is spent irritated, stressed, and feeling like I am just climbing a damn hill for heaven's sake, and there is not much of that youthful unadulterated pleasure or excitement that fills the tank, so to speak. Work is demanding in all sorts of ways, and I can't let up and it's not going to ease up anytime soon. The kids keep me on my toes because the thing is even when all is well there's just so much that you can worry about, and that you maybe <em>should</em> worry about, because wouldn't you feel like an asshole if you didn't worry about it and then something went horribly wrong? What were you saying about yoga? Sing-along chanting? Reiki?<br />
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OK -- one final storytelling indulgence to spare us all from any more of my Eyore-like moping and then I'm off to get some work done and hopefully get to bed before it gets too late.<br />
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So today I go out to this environmental center where Madeline is having her 6th grade field trip. I am helping out with these rotating small groups, at a pond where the kids are supposed to use nets to catch and look at insects, tadpoles, algae, etc. <br />
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The greatest thing about this pond activity is that -- even if all these kids might have attitudes or complications in some other context, I'm telling you -- give them a net and a slimy pond, and suddenly almost every single one of them is off and lunging after anything they find interesting, and running and scrambling and hopping fences as soon as somebody has a frog to look at. There's still a purity in them that emerges quite clearly when you get them out in a simple environment like that.<br />
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But the next greatest thing about this volunteer role I played on this field trip today is that I got to meet a bunch of new kids I had never met before, because -- since Madeline just started middle school, where several elementary schools merged, there are just tons of kids at her school from other elementary schools that I haven't met yet. So when the small groups of kids rotate through our pond activity, I'm kind of chatting up the kids who might be hanging back a little from the rest of the group, or those who just have such vivid personalities that you can't help but talk to them. I've got all kinds of hilarious anecdotes and quotes from today, but two popped out to me (names have been changed to protect identity):<br />
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1. Darius: Wearing Sean John rugby shirt and souped up jeans with orange detail on the pockets, Nike high tops -- also orange. We are walking with a small group of kids from the pond to the main lodge.<br />
I said to him "You've got a lot of orange on". <br />
He says, "Yeah, I love orange. I like the red and orange and that's all I want to wear. I'm just an orange and red kind of person. Today, I got orange shirt, orange jeans, orange shoes, and for tomorrow I brought all red." <br />
I said "Wow. You've got a pretty serious style goin' on if you are that coordinated both days like that. Even the shoes?"<br />
He says, "Yeah, even the shoes -- I match my shoes every day. I gotta have everything match."<br />
The kids around confirmed. <br />
He said "You know, sometimes I feel bad, though, my parents having to pay for all that."<br />
I said "Yeah, my daughter would love for me to buy her clothes all the time but I say no a lot."<br />
He says, "Yeah."<br />
I say "But it must be pretty important to you to match and stuff. Why is it?"<br />
He starts to say "Well, I mean, if I didn't, I just. . . . I mean, it wouldn't. . . " and I gather he might be looking around and realizing if he says what he wants to say it might slightly insult or hurt the feelings of the less stylish kids around him. <br />
So I help him out "you just wouldn't feel as good?"<br />
And he says "Yeah. I mean, if I didn't. . . " and he trails off again.<br />
So I say, "Well, if you didn't match one day, you'd probably be okay."<br />
And he says "Yeah, I'd just have to get up the next day and go back at it all over again."<br />
<br />
2. Shalia - Tiny little whisp of a sassy thing, flitting around the periphery of the pond activty, swooping in when there's something exciting going on like a caught frog, but otherwise off singing and doing aloof running commenetary on what's going on around her and with the activity to no person in particular.<br />
On our walk back from the pond, I say "How do you like the new middle school? Did you have an older brother or sister who went there before you did?'<br />
And she says "No. I only got one little brother and he off with my dad and we got no idea where they at but I don't care cause I get <em>everything</em> I want."<br />
And I say "Oh. So you only have a younger brother but he doesn't live with you?'<br />
And she says "Yeah because he live with my dad and we don't have no idea where they at but it don't matter because I get <em>everything</em> I want."<br />
So I try to move off the subject a little and we banter more mildly with some of the other kids around about school, the teacher we're with that day, the field trip, etc. There's a little pause in the conversation and everybody walks along for a bit and all of a sudden out of nowhere she blurts out, full of sass, "I tell you what I want; I want to go get me that o<em>tter!"</em><br />
<em> </em>And it's so completely out of the blue and unxpected I almost laugh but instead I say "You want to go get an otter? Oh -- did you see an otter out here earlier today?"<br />
She says, "Uh-huh."<br />
"Was it cute?"<br />
"Oh yes it was," she says. <br />
"So you want to go get it and take it home?" I ask.<br />
"Uh-huh" (with extra sass).<br />
"But don't you think that'd be kind of a disaster if you brought that otter home?" I ask.<br />
And she says "Oh no I do not think so -- not if I put it in a <em>tub</em> first, or a <em>sink</em> or somethin, before I can get a big <em>tank</em> for my bedroom to put it in."<br />
I would like to say for the record that I think, based on my conversations with her today, there is a chance this young lady could in fact get just about everything she wants. <br />
<br />
OK, that's all for now. Miss you a lot but reading your letter is great. </div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-50567467111907414802011-10-23T19:21:00.000-07:002011-10-23T21:11:49.043-07:00EncinitasI just moved again. Whoa. Two moves in six months, one across country. I'm getting good at this. I think I gave away more this time than when we moved from Madison. Something about the company paying for all our shipping costs made me hold on to more shit. Anyway, when I had to pay for this last move myself, I cut to the bone. I imagine myself somewhat of a pioneer girl, although certainly my crap could still fill a wagon train. Have you seen <span style="font-style: italic;">Meek's Cutoff </span>by the way? The pioneer outfits in that movie are to die for. Seriously. You gotta see it if only for the fashion.<br /><br />My new house is modern condo style. Can you believe it? I have never lived in a home built before 1912. Southern California. Lots of horrible houses. Think <span style="font-style: italic;">Weeds</span>. It's not that there aren't some old houses around. The first place I rented was a cute little cottage by the sea. But it had mold issues. Alas. And it cost $4 grand a month. Thus the move after only six months!<br /><br />Most of the homes here are what I call faux dobe. Adobe wannabees. They're awful. Again. Think <span style="font-style: italic;">Weeds (little houses made of ticky tacky). </span>I rented this condo because the whole place is super neutral and clean with bamboo floors and high ceilings. Low maintenance. Did I mention the place doesn't smell like mold or dog? You can't believe how many places smell crappy the minute you walk in them. Anyway, our new rental will serve as a blank (clean) canvas for us while we try to figure out these new surroundings. The gated community shares a pool and hot tub, which the kids love, and two tennis court areas. My street is called Tennis Match Way. Can you believe that? Where's the creativity, people? Swimming Pool Approximate Way? Right Next to Trader Joe's Way? A Hop Skip and a Jump to TJ Maxx Way? I better learn to play tennis in any case.<br /><br />Everyone says this is a great time to buy in California, but I'm not seeing it. There are way too many for sale signs around and the prices are crazy when you look at what people really earn. I feel like the current low interest rates are a last gasp attempt to fix a really broken system. The 30 year mortgage is a huge noose around your neck. You're stuck for 30 years. Blah. Boring. I feel like our generation and the ones coming up after us might prefer to let the baby boomers choke on their ridiculous equity and all of it. I don't want to bail them out. And that goes for wall street too. I got my money in my mattress. Oh yeah. Buy gold and toilet paper.<br /><br />That's it for politics because my current passion is navel gazing. That's right. I am in yoga bliss. Encinitas. Yoga capital of the USA. Someone in Madison once made a snarky comment to me about how Southern California was obsessed with yoga and fashion, as if I don't LOVE those two things. I am finding both very satisfying. Things I could talk about now with a straight face after only being in California for six months: reiki, the soul, crystal bowl healing, the Mayan calendar, the word mysticism, the many limbs of yoga, kirtan (aka yoga sing-alongs), crystals, hot tubbin', and the healing power of laughter. All fun stuff. I've stopped eating meat.<br /><br />Of course, Southern California is also the place where everyone should have at least one screenplay in the works. I am no different. Just took an adult learning class and jump started my first act. Now I need to write the second and third acts on my own. Naturally, I am writing about Hinckley, Minnesota -- the scariest town ever to grow up in. They say you should write about what you know, so I am digging deep into small town horror. Bottom line -- an empty social calendar begs for adult learning classes. Next class? Bonsai gardening? Deep sea diving? Stay tuned.......<br /><br />The boys and I are still involved in the LA project. I am learning that the whole business is really more of a marathon than a sprint. And the kids both have braces right now, so there's a certain disadvantage to that. We go up for commercial auditions every other week or so and Henry is enrolled in a class every Saturday. The competition is intense and they have yet to land a gig, but we are in for the long haul, especially Henry. LA is super entertaining to me, so the trips are actually a welcome adventure. Last week I spent two hours shopping for fabric in the garment district while Henry was at class. It was like I was on <span style="font-style: italic;">Project Runway</span> or something. I am still obsessed with a number of podcasts, so the driving is no problem. The other day I got home and Jimmy had decided to give his bangs a little trim (wtf, right?) and my first thought was his agent is going to kill me. This part of our lives is a little whack I will admit.<br /><br />The boys are both doing K12 online school. The curriculum is pretty awesome and I am impressed by the efficiency of the whole system. Jimmy, for example, has completed a year of Spanish in just two months because he likes the subject. Henry is able to rock out math and science at his own pace. They can do independent fitness. I don't think it's the answer for everyone, and maybe not for my kids all the way through, but damn I am thankful that it exists as an alternative choice to the box schools. My whole thing now is to think about education as a blend of choices and to expose my kids to as many styles as I can and just see what sticks. I hope they learn from this to be flexible and not attach themselves to any one identity based solely on what type of school they attend or whatever. There's nothing I have less patience for than school pride hoopla. K12 is much like my new condo now that I think about it. Clean. Efficient. Doesn't smell. Low maintenance. Much less than $4k per month!<br /><br />The boys' totally open social calendar means we all have a lot more family time. I know at some point they will want to make friends and have a life outside the family unit, but for right now I feel like we were given this extra time to all hang out, like on an extended family vacation or something, and it totally rocks. I felt like in Madison it was starting to get tricky. I always had an extra kid or kid's social engagement to wrangle, and I found it really exhausting. Right now we all just have each other and that makes things really simple.<br /><br />All for now. Thanks for getting this started. Quite fun writing to you this way.<br /><br />We miss you!<br /><br />Love.<br />AbbyUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6829709927371928146.post-82637533968595114322011-10-09T17:06:00.000-07:002012-06-07T21:20:25.644-07:00Off the Road (MB)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hey, Ab:<br />
<br />
Well, we didn't exactly get off to a vigorous start with our blog concept. But, I am determined to keep trying. You have now been off the road and settled in the San Diego area for months! I know you are homeschooling the boys, the elder two have an agent in LA (!), and you have a pretty snazzy apartment that may not be a long-term option but is a good place to be while getting oriented out there. I also know you were digging the climate and the bad-ass feeling of driving through LA to take the boys to appointments with their pretty serious agent out there. I love it.<br />
<br />
We definitely miss you guys. I have seen glimpses of the people who have moved into your house and I know you are so far beyond even thinking about this now, but it is really weird to see a different family calling that place home, and slowly evolving it to be their own.<br />
<br />
With the falling leaves, I can't help but think of Halloween, and how that will be a true landmark in your first year away -- we won't have our usual motley crew of neighbors and family members gathering in last-minute costumes to eat chili, gorge on candy, hit the bourbon, and take turns with our cute kids out in the trick-or-treating paradise that is the Jenifer Street neighborhood.<br />
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I don't mean to get all sappy. I guess I'm just pointing out that -- despite limited contact these last few months -- you and your fam are always a present force for me, and I do miss having your refreshing perspective in person here. I need to get in a routine drawing on it by phone, or -- hopefully -- through this blog.<br />
<br />
Here's the quick-and-dirty on me for the moment. I feel a little "off-the-road" myself, to be honest with you. I'm doin' it, keepin' it all going, scrapin' by, raisin' kids, payin' bills. But. Not sure where exactly I'm going or if I'm moving forward. I won't elaborate too much more on that other than to fill you in on the basics of what's been going on lately. We'll get back to the bigger philosophical aspects of it all in future posts if we ever finally get this blog rolling.<br />
<br />
First, I am relatively blissed out and getting way in touch with my roots these last several weeks as my life-long and tormented love affair with Milwaukee Brewers Baseball has taken a dramatic turn for the better. They are currently playing for the National League Championship and have a damn viable chance at playing in the World Series. It's been divine. This remarkable circumstance (last time they got this far I was 5 years old; I vaguely remember it and strongly romaticize that team; we've barely broken .500 a season since) has been accompanied by across-the-board success on the part of Wisconsin sports teams all fall. It's been delicious fun -- in the way that those summers and winters when we obsessed about the Olympics on TV we found a certain wonderful escape and diversion from the ordinary -- except even better, because in this case it's all about Wisconsin loyalty, tradition, my personal and family history with these teams, and how happy this shit makes a vast majority of people I am related to.<br />
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Second, and more importantly, Peter started high school and Madeline started middle school -- I could write a lengthy essay of observations about this but for now let's just say they were both more than ready and are doing great, and I am loving the transition to higher expectations of them, and more responsibility on their part in general, etc.<br />
<br />
Third, I have a new neice and a new nephew! My sister Anna had her second baby in Paris -- Livia -- on April 26th; my sister Julie had her first just last Sunday on October 2nd -- Benjamin David! Madeline and I happened to be in Chicago on the night that Julie went into labor so we were sort of along for the ride on the dramatic turns of the situation (she went into labor almost a month early but baby has done great and went home from the NICU today).<br />
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Fourth -- I remain in relative single mom stress and uncertainty about money, work, and relationships. I know -- what the hell? I don't know, Ab -- I could use some help on this one. Running a single-income family/household with kids who are only getting older and more expensive remains a significant challenge. On the other hand, I've become so damn independent and intolerant of any inconvenience when it comes to relationships, I'm not exactly on a steady progression toward life-long partnership. This notwithstanding the fact that, as you know, there's a guy who's interested in pursuing that with me. It's all quite confusing. I am truly enjoying many aspects of my work life -- I have been learning a ton and developing a lot in my role as an agency executive. My law practice also plugs along fairly loosely, and I have a few great clients that I get to do pretty fun work for. I'm not charging enough which leads me to a certain squeeze fairly frequently. Argh. I could use a lucky lottery ticket, a sugar daddy, something. How did I get through all those years of law school on student loans, grants, and a small part-time teaching salary? It seems things have just gotten a lot more complicated since then. I know I can make it all work, but I'll tell you -- securing a partner in this most basic anthropological proposition of modern middle class living (keeping the lights on and providing your kids with some basic opportunities) definitely makes a difference, and sometimes I feel like that ship has just sailed for me. Dating a guy who is nice, but also has his own kids and his own single-income household to worry about, has not helped simplify the issue. We continue to spend time together and at times it looks a hell of a lot like a committed long term relationship, but I just don't see where it's going, or how. More and more I feel like I just need to buck up and realize that I will be doing this single mom thing indefinitely, and I just need to keep getting better and better to be sure that enough income's coming in and I can simultaneously continue to be at least as attentive to these kids in that classic way that I inherited from my own mom as I have been these last couple of years.<br />
<br />
Man. You and Frank have seen me through a lot of stages in this adventure, and you've always been so good to me. How many crappy meals have I prepared for you due to my general state of exhaustion and distraction in the midst of all that's going on; how many pots of your beans have my kids and I eaten, how many times did Frank un-clog my disgusting rental property sink for me, how long did you put up with my kids and I staying with you guys before we went to Argentina -- you guys are freakin' saints! I swear.<br />
<br />
It's a gorgeous fall here. Bright colors, and is if in response to a request I made quietly many times this summer, it seems we're getting a gentle Indian summer into the month of October. June was cold for almost the full month, so my quiet request came from a sense of justice -- if we're not going to get a warm June, we sure as hell better get a long warm late summer/early fall before stuff hits the fan.<br />
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Kids and I went camping with the Elizabeth Street neighborhood crew at Wyalusing State Park this past weekend and it was delightful. I nursed a few PBR tall boys around the fire and talked big ideas with a bunch of the smart folks from that neighborhood group, we took a great hike this morning and saw a cool cave and the kids all put pennies on the railroad track and waited to see what they got after the train came by. Peter and all the teenagers had one cabin and were super cute and seem so innocent compared to the shenanigans we were getting into at that age (famous last words, I know). Mads and a posse of middle schoolers essentially did the same thing -- strewed their personal items all over the inside of their own bunk house, played into the night and then crashed and were up again by 7 eating pancakes on lunch trays in the mess hall at the group camp we were at. <br />
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The next couple of weeks we'll be running around trying to keep up with the Brewers, East High Homecoming, and seeing my sisters and their little ones (Anna and her girls are visiting). Work will not ease up, nor will school, for these extra-curriculars, so it'll be another busy time. What's new though? You should've seen me this past spring/summer while you've been gone. I over-committed myself like never before -- 5th and 8th grade graduations, All-City Dive Meet (Mads did great by the way!), tons of work stuff, baseball team mom, visitors staying with us from out of town, blah blah blah. All fun and good but I burned myself out big time. Late summer and early fall I've been pretty anti-social as a result. <br />
<br />
Oh, fun tidbit -- I did take the kids to NYC for the first time in August. I'll fill you in more on that soon. We had a blast. We just tooled around without major plans. They were ready to ditch me and ride the subway on their own within about 24 hours. Made me proud.<br />
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I'm thinkin of you guys. Be in touch. Write!</div>MB Madisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14841620640573480888noreply@blogger.com0