Off kilter

Something's amiss when I get this in the mail

before the kids even get out for summer vacation.

Or put on their new swimsuits.

Four more days (and counting)!

Both of my daughters are heavily ensconced in studying for finals

all the way through Thursday.

On the other hand, Mother Nature has cooperated by giving us entirely UNsummery weather.

The better to study for tests, my dear.

Get me to a nunnery?

I am, at heart, a bit of a loner.  That’s not to say I don’t enjoy a good friendship or gathering or love my people or crave connection.  But, it’s true, if I were banished to a desert island somewhere, upon receiving the news I would happily get up, say a little too cheerfully “Really?” and run to pack my things.  I don’t mind alone time is all I’m saying.

In fact, when I used to read about someone sentenced to jail time (or even solitary confinement) I felt a teensy bit jealous of all that quality time & mused “Eh…that wouldn’t be so bad…especially if I had my own cell” (sharing a cell? Not so much).  In another place (and religion) I might have been well suited to the nunnery.

I trace this back to when I became a mother.

For example. When I was about to turn 30, G asked what my heart’s desire would be.  I knew exactly what I wanted but I hemmed and hawed a bit before he got it out of me (I didn’t want to hurt his feelings!).  What I really wanted more than any thing on earth was a weekend by myself.  Keep in mind that at the time I had three kids under the age of five and a traveling, working-overtime husband.  I didn’t want any demands or agendas, not even a romantic weekend with my husband.  Just me, a stack of books, and 36 hours of my own free will and choice.  G (knowing me as he does) didn’t blink twice, just cleared his schedule and carried my bags to the car, waving as I headed south to an inn in rural Virginia.  I slept in, stayed up late, walked, took long drives around horse country, readreadread, and wrote pages and pages.  I wanted to figure myself out a bit, this new 30 version of me.

Nowadays I get my fill of me, of aloneness.  The kids are all gone during the day and now I miss having a little buddy tagging along with me.  Lately—probably because I’m past the high-intensity early years of mommying with those constant needs, full body contact, and sticky hands, beloved but constant—I’m going back to my more social roots (my parents attest that I was a very social girl!). My 40^th birthday happens this year and I'm finding that my dream of an ideal celebration has changed over the last ten years.  Now I’m dreaming of a getaway with a gaggle of people, much loud laughter and breezy conversation. 

 

With some quiet alone time built into the schedule, of course.

Do you know of any nunneries that host that kind of weekend?

Or maybe the lovely island of Alcatraz, with its private suites and city views?

It turns out...

  l that hosting a teenage sleep-over on the weekend of the "spring forward" time change is a recipe for a very lethargic and sleepy Monday.

 l  that Miss Saigon was powerful and the lead voices really rose to the challenge (in particular our extremely talented neighbor who played Kim and the boy who played John--his "Bui Doi" was amazing and every bit as good as the one below...it's an amazing number. Have you seen it?-->)

...but I still feel like the production is beyond the developmental appropriateness for high schoolers (as young as 14).  Even though the message of the play is to criticize the objectification of women in that way, it's still wacko to ask young girls to dress and play prostitutes in the same mature way the West End and Broadway productions did.  In my humble opinion.

l that just because it's 55 degrees and sunny on Sunday doesn't mean you're immune to a Monday morning sleet and snowstorm.

l that having a "spring break" that is a different week from your kids' spring break is not a terrible thing.  (Although difficult when their week rolls around next month.)  I'm enjoying a relaxed schedule this week and catching up on some much-neglected house projects and reading (both for school and for fun).  Oh, who am I kidding?  I still have a to-do list a mile long but am giving myself a few moments of vacation-like indulgence.

l that I really enjoy trying some new recipes for the family (who knew?).  This is a new development, folks. Recent hits:

1. cinnamon waffles with caramelized apples
   
2. cauliflower soup (although the kids didn't love it)
   
3. Ina Garten's shrimp scampi
   
4. Sopa de lima from the Turtle Bay Tacqueria cookbook (one of our faves when we go to Pacific Grove)

Um...we won't talk about the quiche I made last night that somehow ended up with broken glass in it.  The only thing I can think of is the frozen spinach must have had some shards in it, since everything else (half-and-half? grated cheese? chopped onions?) was fine.

l that, in order to take advantage of an offer of two free airline tickets, we would have to charge $500 on our AmEx by tomorrow. Our own little economic stimulus package (or, rather, AmEx's). Not sure we're up for that, but just for the sake of discussion, what would you spend it on?

The middle place

I just finished reading Kelly Corrigan's The Middle Place this morning, a memoir about the middle place where being a mother and being a daughter overlap. At the end she includes this fabulous essay on the transcendence of women's friendships. As luck would have it, I found a video of her reading it aloud and had to share {hanky warning--but it's worth the 5 minutes}:

I can't help but think of my grandmother and her 8 sisters, my mom and her 4 sisters, my mom and her long-standing group of friends who have seen each other through...well...everything.

I, too, have one of those milestone birthdays coming up this year.  I have been lucky to have some really incredible women to call dear friends.  But I've moved a lot.  And so have my friends.  I have to admit I've felt a little forlorn and lonely lately, since most of those close friendships--formed in my own growing up years, or at the playground, in play groups and babysitting groups with my children--are now far away.  

Somehow I find myself in this other, "middle place" where the demographics of my neighborhood, church congregation, and school make me the outsider, the other.  I'm at an awkward age for new friendships, like a 14-year-old in kindergarten.  I'm not young enough to be included and invited on the get-togethers with the young moms or grad students (and I realize they consider me practically ancient, with a 15-year-old and all) and most of the women my age in town have lived here forever and already have their go-to people long established, including extended family, those luckies.

So I'm left with a long Christmas card list of long-distance-yet-close connections, people who would step in, give me a hug, recommend a doctor/hairstylist/parenting tip, watch my kids, and vice versa, if only we lived closer.  These relationships transcend distance, except when they don't. When I just want to go to a movie with a girl friend who really gets me.  

So this is for the group of women who don't even know each other--my posse of lifelong "Pigeons" who I'm sure would love each other if ever we got in one big room: 

Shelly~Debbie~Sue~JenA~Kelly~JenW~Trina~Christin~

JenJ~Deirdre~Christie~Jessica

{plus a few more iFriends whose friendships

 sustain me although we've never really met}

I would totally jump on a red-eye flight and fly anywhere for any one of you.  Looking at that list, I realize I really don't have anything to complain about.  I'm blessed to know each of you. But the world's on notice: I've got my eye out for some new Pigeons...come out, come out, wherever you are.

Oh, to be famous...

Lately my friend Therese (okay...she was first my brother's friend but now I've poached her to become my friend, too) has had lots of celebrity sightings. Apparently Hugh Grant lives in her neighborhood in London and she has crossed paths with him. And (who knew?) Jimmy Osmond the other day. And Kate Middleton, Prince William's girlfriend. And (correct me if I'm wrong here Therese) French President Nicolas Sarkozy.

Which has made me wonder...what do you say to a celebrity?

Quote a line from his movie (don't you think she should say to Hugh "I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love me")? Pretend like you don't know who he is? Give a compliment? Bravely ask for a photo (or cunningly snap one with your phone on the sly)?

Famously (in our family anyway) my sister said to Alec Baldwin when she met him years ago, "Oh, to be famous!" That's it, just the wistful statement, which I think is classic. It's an all-purpose celebrity greeting! I don't think she'd mind if you used it, too. And I wonder if he remembers it?

Me, I do the ignoring thing. I don't know why. I guess I don't want to turn into a puddle of Beatles-come-to-America swooning & crying. Last year when I went through the Boston Museum of Fine Arts with Victor Garber I smiled coolly and then giggled and twittered behind his back. Repeated for each room of the exhibit. And in the cafe afterwards. That was pretty subtle, right?

So here are my celebrity sightings, what I did and what I maybe should have done:

• Princess Diana (3x): waved once, acted cool the other two times. Now I wish I had reached out to her. It turns out it was a tough time for her around then. I should have helped her see how unhealthy life was for her at the palace. I could make her feel great about her body and talk her out of colonics and other crazy schemes. Sorry, Diana.
  
• Prince Charles: looked sideways at him and then kept walking (plus there were bodyguards). I should have asked him for an internship, since I was an undergrad at the time desperate for a reason to stay in London. Darn. There's one window that's now permanently closed.
  
• Merrill Osmond: Okay, to my 6th grade self it was a celebrity sighting. He kissed my cheek. Or was it Wayne? I should have asked about the big adam's apple. I've always wondered if he felt bad that it stuck out so much.
• Robert Redford: My grandparents have a cabin near Sundance so I've seen him from afar a few times. Rumor has it that he used to stop by the side of the highway and take a ride on our rope swing out over the river. He's shorter than you imagine.
  
• Victor Garber: see above. I should have impressed him with my spy skills and asked for a part in the next incarnation of Alias. I loved that show but I always thought Sidney was a bit too flamboyant and noticable for a spy. You know who wouldn't be looked at twice and could pass through security without being glanced at? Me, a thirtysomething mom, that's who.
  
• Stephen Sondheim: (I know! Cool, huh?) Just watched him and soaked up his brilliance. I sat behind him in a play so I got to know the back of his head really well. That was enough, honestly. I wouldn't want to risk doing anything stupid. Although maybe if I hummed a little ditty he would be inspired to write another brilliant musical. You never know.
  
• Senator Ted Kennedy: I watched him watch a basketball game. He was much more bent over in person. I'm pretty sure he didn't want to be bothered so I was right to keep away.
  
• Karl Malone: I worked in PR in the hospital where his wife had a baby so I got to take a special gift and welcome them. I'm sure that's exactly what they wanted coming through that door in the middle of labor. (But there's one I actually spoke to!)

That's it I think. I know they're just people (the magazines tell me they do their shopping! they take their kids to school! they floss their teeth!). But it's still fun to spot someone you only know through the screen, like a big world-scale Where's Waldo.

Now that I think about it, I could have been instrumental in getting together a Sondheim/Osmond/Redford/Garber project launched since obviously I'm a link in their six degrees of separation! Ah, opportunities missed. Please tell me your celebrity stories. Make me feel better. Or school me in the ways of celebrity chat. Clearly I need it.