Never Worry Alone.

Tonight is the first night I have felt like crying. I'm not someone who cries. My Scandinavian heritage keeps that in check. But tonight I feel despair. And it's only been five fucking days. It just feels like there is no stopping this freight train that is running through all of our lives. 

Add to that I’m having a little PTSD – so reminiscent of eight years ago. When each day is a fricking roller coaster of being pissed off, being sad, being worried, being anxious and then being thoroughly pissed off again. The feeling of helplessness can be overwhelming.

And I’m one of the lucky ones. The only thing I have going against me is that I’m a woman. So many have it so much worse. 

My Many Paws bring welcome distractions and entertainment and comfort. Thank god my partner for life is on the exact same page so we can commiserate. Same goes for my close friends. They all bring empathy but also diversions and laughter. And omg we need laughter now more than ever. My creative outlets are the biggest blessing; I am never bored.

Although the country’s situation is never far from my mind I do find some comfort, some hope in people like Dan Harris who doles out wise words that inspire me. 

“Action absorbs anxiety.” I don’t know what kind of action to take right now but as this whole situation becomes darker – and it will become darker – I believe opportunities for action will begin to arise. 

For now action to me is staying aware (although it can be a challenge when things change every five minutes); but more importantly staying involved in life in general.

Which brings to mind another thing Dan said that brought comfort. “Never worry alone.” That’s where my BFF husband life partner comes in and my close friends. Text streams and lunches and messaging and, yes, even the occasional real phone conversation. Video chats with my sons and their families, especially those little munchkin grandkiddos who grow and change by the minute. 

Another inspiration lies in Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde who gave a truly honest Inaugural Sermon on January 21. She was gentle, soft spoken and eloquent in her plea directly to the President for mercy. Mercy for the gay, lesbian and transgender population and immigrants who fear for their lives. The bravery she shared is unmatched.

So it’s hard sometimes, but try to hold on to the good things, the inspiring things, the things that make your heart beat. 

Because at times it seems like that is all that will keep us putting one foot in front of the other. Take a breath. Get outside. Fall in love with nature; she shares infinite ways to heal.

And take a puppy for a walk. 

Namaste

Sanity.

 Processing everything that has happened in the last 36+ hours (is that all???) has been  - for the lack of a better word - confusing. And exhausting. And depressing. And fricking scary. 

To me this feels like our future.

Ominous

Doom

Did I mention ominous?

Isolated

But I can't live that way. Or I will lose my mind. Although I have to admit, it will always be hiding in the way back corners of said mind. I'm not sleeping on this one. 

But I have to fill my life with nature 

and the little people in my life 

and cats 

and dogs 

and brunch and art and cocktails with friends 

and creativity 

and love 

to keep my mind sane. 

So one day at a time. Because thinking beyond that is waaaay too overwhelming. 

Namaste

Storm's Comin'

 Years ago I would walk my Simba dog in a local park every morning. We often ran into Thomas and his dog and we would stop and chat. I remember one particularly cloudy morning with ominous looking clouds. The white pelicans were circling overhead. 

“Storm’s comin’,” Thomas said.  

Storm’s comin’... 

I’m thinking about that tonight as we sit on the precipice of something so ominous. What will the country we see at Noon EST tomorrow be? It will be turned upside down and will remain that way for the foreseeable future. It’s terrifying. 

We know for sure we're in for a rough go of it for a few years. Because the richest man in the world told us so. HE TOLD US SO. And almost half the country said, "Ok." 

We're all flipping exhausted and haven't caught our breath from the last time. And the Pandemic that was a total shitshow.  So take a beat, but not too long. Because autocracy, like the fog, comes in on little cat feet.

And before you know it - the fog has enveloped everything. Everyone. 

But we are still here, dammit. 

Please don't give up. Our way of life, our country that so many of our family members fought for is still worth fighting for. In any way we can. 

On November 6, 2024, Vice President Kamala Harris said this:

I find such great inspiration in Andra Day's "Rise Up." Because we are going to need to. 

Namaste

We are more alike than we are different

 “Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”  *Mark Twain*

Sometimes the smallest act of kindness can make the difference in someone’s day. Hold the door for the person behind you. Let the car desperately trying to get in your lane in. 

Stop a stranger on the street to give them a compliment. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve done this when I see a hairdo I like (it’s all about the hair). Or compliment a woman in Target on her sparkle sandals. I did that once and she was so surprised and so happy. 

Tell a friend how much it means that they noticed you were a bit down “do you want to talk?.” Tell a colleague how much you admire the work they do. 

Text your bestie every morning to say “Good Morning! How are you? What’s on tap for today?”  Call your Mom -  if you are lucky enough to still have her with you. Write a letter to your grandkids – I mean snail mail. It will blow their minds. 

Surprise your Vet or your Doctor with some home baked goods for them and their staff. Theirs is not an easy path; let them know they are appreciated. Leave snacks on your front porch for the delivery folks - especially during the holidays when they work so hard. 

Donate to a cause that speaks to you – whether that be with your time, your talent or financially. 

It’s not hard. This being kind thing. Sometimes it takes two minutes. And it can be a bit addictive. In the best of ways. 

I always remind myself that we are more alike than we are different. On any given day you may be standing next to someone who is trying their best not to fall apart. Barely holding it together. Keep kindness in your heart. 

Namaste

What will you do with your one wild and precious life?

 Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? 

                                                                            *Mary Oliver*

I never had a plan. If I had would my life have been better? Maybe. Would it have been worse? Maybe. One thing for sure, it would have been different. 

For the longest time I regretted not getting a college degree. The world puts a lot of value on that. Well I had a two year degree from a community college but ~ big deal. For the longest time I felt "less than" because that’s all I had. 

I didn’t have a big career. I married young. I bounced around working in public schools for awhile. Worked in a small PR firm. Worked for a cable programmer. Went on to a large cable network in PR and Programming. Back to a public school ~ because I thought that would make me happy. It didn’t.

Then came the gift of time that Charlie gave me. “Do what you love.” 

So I created, designed and marketed a line of stuffed animals because there is a strong childhood connection with my little plush buddies. But that’s another story for another day. I digress. 

I got married at 19 because I wanted out of the Midwest and that seemed to be the easiest way to do it. I wasn't messing around. I moved to Canada. So, as you can see, I had no plan. 

What I didn't realize was in all of that scurrying around, I was making a life and I didn't even realize it. My wild and precious (emphasis on precious) started when I was 21. 

I had my first son when I was 21. I had no clue what I was doing and the nearest family was 700 miles away. So I just winged it. Being in unchartered waters I did my best.  And despite the fear of screwing this child up, it was delightful. And so was he. 

So enjoyable that I wanted to do it again so my second son was born when I was 24. He was a character and made me laugh every day. 

So that journey began. And what a ride it has been. I wouldn’t change a thing. Now, both fathers with children of their own, I am so proud of them. So lucky to be their Mom and Mimi to their precious children…

I met Charlie in 1991. We had a lot of fun and by 1993 we sealed the deal and here we are 32 years later. Ups and downs and all arounds.

It has been, and continues to be, what I am so happy to say is my one wild and precious life.

Namaste. 

BAKE!

 Don’t let a recipe tell you how many chocolate chips to use. You do you, girl. 

My Mom was a wonderful home baker. Her cooking? Ummm… not so much. I mean we didn’t starve but meals were pretty much meat ‘n potatoes, Midwestern style. I didn’t even have spaghetti until I was married with kids of my own and bought a cookbook. 

Remember cookbooks? Before every recipe known to man was on the internet? Have to admit I’m guilty of store housing my recipes in folders in cyberspace. And remember recipe cards? I do miss the tactical feel of a recipe card. When I helped my Mom and Dad go thru a lifetime of things in their home preparing to move to a retirement apartment I came across Mom’s very old, falling apart wooden recipe box, full of handwritten recipes of hers, my aunts, maybe even my grandmother. She said, “Oh just toss that; no one wants that.” 

“Mom! I do! This is priceless!” 

“Ok, it’s yours.” 

But I digress. My Mom baked the best cinnamon rolls. Charlie requested them every time we visited. Kringla – a Norwegian kind of shortbread thingie – was a staple in our house. 

She made the most delicious pies – with crusts created with lard – the old school way. Cherry pies with the lattice top. Lemon meringue with the perfect meringue. Rhubarb… omg my tongue twitches with the tartness of the yummy rhubarb freshly harvested from my Aunt’s garden. Pumpkin pie every Thanksgiving. 

She made a frozen ice cream cake – chocolate cake with ice cream in the middle, then rolled, frozen and sliced off. Omg. Yummo. And the most moist and delish carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.

My younger son is the one who inherited the real baking gene. I mean, he’s a fancy pants baker man who could probably be on a baking show. I’m not the baker Mom was but I do enjoy baking. I love trying new recipes and am happy when they turn out. 

When Mom passed I collected some of her better known and loved recipes, matched them with some photos of Mom and put together a book for my siblings, my sons and my nieces and nephews. It was challenging because most of Mom’s recipes were in her head so it was “I think this is the measurement… not sure, ”Not sure what she meant by ‘a handful’ but good luck.” 

I never really understood why I have this thing for baking. Maybe it’s Mom living thru me. How lucky I am to be her daughter. 

Go forth and BAKE!

Namaste.